by Darcy Burke
He knew she thought it would be best if George were away from Sutton Park so that Ned could take a wife without having to make sure she could support George’s presence. “And what about after I left him at the facility? You see what happens when I’m not here.” Episodes of this magnitude almost never occurred when he was at home.
She nodded, her gaze trailing off to the tea tray. “Yes. Just as I see how dedicated you are. However, you mustn’t let him control your life.” She turned her attention back to him, her eyes—the same shade of blue his mother’s had been—piercing. “You deserve to be happy. You deserve a wife and children. You need those things to preserve the title.”
He looked at her in mild amusement. “It’s not as if I’m not looking.”
She allowed a small smile. “Yes, but it’s been years now, and you’re no closer to finding a countess. I sometimes wonder if this test you’ve concocted is for George or for you.” Her stare dug into him, searching for the truth. Unfortunately, Ned wasn’t sure he knew the truth. He wanted a wife. No, he needed one. Aunt Susannah had worded that quite right. Maybe she had a point. Maybe he really didn’t want one and so he manufactured reasons not to find one.
“You’ll be pleased to know I’ve encountered a new candidate, and I’m quite optimistic about her chances.”
Aunt Susannah’s eyes danced with interest. She leaned forward. “Do tell me, please.”
“Miss Aquilla Knox.”
Aunt Susannah frowned slightly, not in distaste, but perhaps in confusion. “Was she at the dinner party last night?”
“Yes. She is the ward of Lord and Lady Satterfield.”
“That sounds vaguely familiar.” Aunt Susannah tapped a finger against her chin. “I’m trying to recall why she’s their ward.”
“That would be good to know, along with the usual information.” Including whether she was active in any charitable endeavors. Ned required a wife who recognized the plight of those less fortunate and strove to help them. He also needed a wife who was discreet, mature, and, above all, completely trustworthy.
“Of course. You know I shall do all I can to help you ascertain her character. But—” She looked at him for a moment as if she was deciding whether to continue.
“Go on,” he said, readjusting his position in the chair so that he sat straight, pulling his legs in. “Say what you want to say.”
“If you moved George out of the house and kept her from spending time with him, you wouldn’t have to entrust your wife with anything but the bare minimum. Especially not at first. In time, when you’ve grown comfortable together, you can introduce George into her life.”
“My plan has always been to gradually expose her to him.” And therein lay his concerns. What if he married someone who was horrified by George’s state? Or who was frightened? Or who couldn’t tolerate his presence? Or who told everyone she knew about him? This was why he had such a rigorous “test,” as his aunt was fond of calling it, to ensure he chose wisely.
“Yes, you and your plans.” She picked up her tea and took a sip. “All right, then, let us move on to Miss Knox. I’ll find out what I can. Are we still returning to London in the morning?”
“I must. I have a meeting in the afternoon, and aren’t we committed to some ball or other?”
“We are. I shall have to ascertain whether Miss Knox will be there.” She took another sip of tea. “I hope so.”
Ned hoped so too. Not just because he was eager to start on his test, but because he wanted to see her again. He’d ask her to dance and he would talk with her, and he’d determine if she possessed the necessary attributes to be his countess. He had yet to find a woman who met his standards, who would be worthy of George.
Perhaps Miss Knox was that woman.
The Overton ball was an absolute crush. Thousands of candles lent light and heat, while the crowd and the noise overwhelmed the rest of one’s senses. Aquilla had become quite used to such a press, but that didn’t mean she enjoyed it. The fact that this could be her last such event filled her with a bit of relief and maybe a dash of excitement. She was ready for something new. Something different.
Knowing tonight was likely her last social occasion made it easier to endure a dance with Lord Lindsell, which would inevitably happen. Thankfully, she had yet to see him in the hour or so since she’d arrived with Lord and Lady Satterfield.
The latter stood maybe twenty feet away, conversing with a friend. She darted periodic looks in Aquilla’s direction, and each time, Aquilla smiled in return.
“Aquilla, there you are.” Eleanor St. John, Duchess of Kendal, leaned close and blew a kiss against Aquilla’s cheek. “You look splendid this evening, but then you always do.”
Aquilla smoothed her hand over the skirt of her ball gown. The pale yellow silk was light and flowed like a cloud puffing through the sky. It was one of two evening gowns she’d accepted from Lady Satterfield at the start of the Season. She hadn’t wanted any new clothing, but Lady Satterfield had been rather vigorous in her insistence.
“Thank you. You look lovely too. That coral necklace is particularly fetching.”
Nora’s hand went to the single strand adorning her throat. “Isn’t it? It’s somewhat new. Kendal has excellent taste.”
“Is he here this evening?”
Nora shook her head. “You know how he dislikes these sorts of things. He attends a few here and there—for me and his stepmother—but he’s quite content to stay at home and tuck the children into bed.”
Aquilla smiled at that image, thinking it was both charming and peculiar. She had a hard time believing gentlemen behaved in such a way, but clearly they did. Just not in her experience. No, her father—and now her brother—wouldn’t be caught anywhere near their small children.
“You don’t come to many events either,” Aquilla noted. “Not really.”
Nora chuckled softly. “That’s true, I’m afraid. But Lady Overton’s ball is always special, and I knew you and Lady Satterfield would be here.”
As if she’d heard them, and maybe she had, Lady Satterfield turned and came toward them. “Nora, dear, I’m so glad you’ve come. Did you talk Kendal into accompanying you?”
“I’m afraid not. Christopher had the sniffles this afternoon, and so Kendal insisted on staying at home.”
Lady Satterfield’s eyes rounded slightly. “Oh dear, please tell me it isn’t serious.” She inhaled sharply and waved her hand. “Of course it isn’t. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.” She smiled. “Please keep us updated. I hate thinking my grandson is ill.”
“He’s not ill. He sneezed twice—that was all the excuse Kendal needed.” Nora rolled her eyes and laughed.
Aquilla and Lady Satterfield joined her.
Nora clasped her hands together and looked between her friend and her mother-in-law. “What is tonight’s plan? Is Lindsell still dangling after you?” She settled her gaze on Aquilla.
Aquilla suppressed a twitch of disgust. “Probably, but I’m not interested.”
Lady Satterfield looked at her stepdaughter-in-law. “We’ve learned some things about him. He’s what we might call unacceptable.”
Aquilla and Nora snapped their gazes to each other. Mirth danced in their eyes and tugged at their lips, but they didn’t say anything. Lady Satterfield didn’t know about them calling certain gentlemen of the ton “Untouchable,” a word coined by Nora. Her husband, who’d once been called “the forbidden duke,” bore the distinction of being the very first one.
“What is it?” Lady Satterfield asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No, not at all. I think Unacceptable fits him perfectly,” Aquilla said, smiling broadly.
Nora tugged at her glove, realigning it over her wrist. “Well then, I daresay it’s time to set our sights elsewhere. Who else are you considering?”
Aquilla nearly laughed. She made it sound as if Aquilla could have her choice of husband—if she even wanted one. “No one.”
Lady Satterfield made a
small sound but didn’t say anything. However, she looked from Aquilla to Nora as if she did want to say something.
“Is there someone?” Nora asked, directing her attention first to her stepmother-in-law and then to Aquilla.
Aquilla had no idea what Lady Satterfield could be about.
The countess edged closer, which caused their little conversation circle to tighten. “It just occurred to me, actually. Aquilla sat next to the Earl of Sutton the other night. I saw them talking a bit. And then…” She didn’t finish, but Aquilla knew what she was thinking—that they’d met under odd circumstances. “Is there a connection, I wonder?” Lady Satterfield asked. She watched Aquilla expectantly.
“No,” Aquilla said quickly. “We merely sat together by chance. I will say he was far more engaging than Lindsell.”
“Indeed?” Lady Satterfield answered. Her gaze turned shrewd, and Aquilla knew she’d be digging deeper into this topic if they weren’t in a ballroom with too many ears.
And then, the unimaginable happened. Sutton strode straight toward them, approaching from behind Lady Satterfield.
“He’s here,” Nora whispered, her head swiveling toward the earl as he bore down on them.
Lady Satterfield moved backward, opening their circle. She pivoted just as he arrived. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening.” He offered a bow first to Nora, as decorum demanded since she was the highest-ranking lady present, and then to Lady Satterfield. Lastly, he bowed toward Aquilla. “I was hoping you might be free for the next dance. It is a waltz, if you’re permitted.” He looked toward Lady Satterfield, who nodded her assent.
He turned his attention back to Aquilla and offered his arm.
She could decline. She should decline. But given the look of absolute rapture on Lady Satterfield’s face, she would do no such thing. “Thank you, my lord.” She dipped a brief curtsey before taking his arm.
Lady Satterfield grinned her approval as they walked toward the dance floor.
Well, this is unexpected, Aquilla thought. She’d spent most of her mental energy on how she might avoid Lindsell this evening and hadn’t given a thought as to whether another gentleman might ask her to dance. And she certainly hadn’t considered Sutton. He was the most Untouchable of Untouchables given his reputation for not following through with courtship. Even if she were a desirable catch on the Marriage Mart, she would have every expectation that he would find her lacking.
And yet here he was. Which meant she ought to mount her defense.
She instantly and unabashedly adopted her scatterbrained, overtalkative, silly mien. “To what do I owe this pleasure, my lord?”
He darted her a quizzical glance as he led her onto the dance floor. “You seem surprised that I asked.”
She blinked up at him, feigning shock. “I am.”
“Why? You’re a charming young woman. We’ve met twice before. It seemed we should dance.”
She giggled and batted her lashes coyly. “Oh, then I am so fortunate! You see, I rarely dance. And it’s not because I can’t. On the contrary, I’m quite skilled. Just you wait.” She grinned up at him and for a moment felt bad about misleading him. Not bad enough to stop, however.
The music started, and he set his hand at her waist, his touch light. His other hand met hers, and he swept her into the dance.
Aquilla hadn’t been lying about being a good dancer, but she typically sought to step on her partner’s toes or miss a step or move too slowly or too quickly. In many cases, her mistake went unnoticed because her partner had committed worse.
This was not the case with Sutton. She could tell immediately that he was the best dancer who’d ever escorted her onto the floor. He was deft and nimble, and he made it look unbearably easy. If she had any doubt that he was an Untouchable, it had been utterly vanquished by his ability. And his confidence. He exuded it the way the scent of a flower drew bees to its nectar. She began to see why women didn’t care if his reputation was that of someone who wouldn’t commit.
She tried to stumble, but his grip tightened, keeping her upright and in time with the music.
He looked down at her in question, one dark blond brow bent. “You make me doubt your assertion.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Which one?”
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally. “That you’re a skilled dancer.”
“Oh. Yes. I may have exaggerated the slightest bit. I do that sometimes. It makes life more interesting, don’t you think?” She barely took a breath before barreling forward with one of her stories that was sure to bore him. “I once taught our cats how to dance. We had several who lived in the stables. I lined them up and hummed the music. It took them a bit to learn to take turns, but they got there!” She laughed gleefully.
He looked utterly nonplussed, his eyes glazing slightly. “Now you’re exaggerating.”
“Very well, you caught me.” She lowered her voice as if she were imparting a dire secret. “It actually took me a year.”
“Miss Knox, I hope you won’t think me overbold, but I must ask what you’re about. You’re quite different than you were during our other meetings. I am…surprised.”
And disappointed. She could hear it in his voice. Normally, this gave her a jolt of delight. She knew the gentleman would likely never trouble her again. Sutton, however, had seen her in another light. That was a mistake she hoped to fix.
She pursed her lips, sticking them out so that she looked like a fish. “I’m the same, I think.”
“No, not at all, and please don’t insult me—or yourself—by saying otherwise. Tell me, what is the matter?” His tone was direct and possessed a touch of hardness as well as concern. There was more of the latter, actually, but perhaps that was due to the way he was looking at her. As if he peered straight though her ruse and saw her.
This time when she stumbled, it wasn’t an act.
“Pardon me,” she murmured.
Again he held her steady, his hands warm and secure.
“Tell me,” he repeated. “Please.”
She couldn’t bear to look at him, so she fixed her gaze over his shoulder at the swirling ballroom. “I thought men liked vapid women.”
“Not smart men.” His fingertips skimmed the space above her waist. Tingles of awareness danced up her spine. “Not the ones worth having,” he said softly.
She couldn’t keep from looking at him then. His gray eyes watched her intently, captivating her while he steered them about the floor with precision and grace.
She should keep up the act or do something else to deter him. But why bother? It wasn’t as if he would marry her. He didn’t marry anyone. So he might pay her attention for a while, but he would move on. That could not be disputed.
Aquilla allowed herself to relax. He was safe. Especially since her time on the Marriage Mart was nearly at an end. First thing tomorrow, she’d tell Lady Satterfield about her plan to become a companion.
“Why did you really ask me to dance?” she asked. If he could be unflinchingly honest, so could she. It felt good actually.
He lifted a shoulder. “Because I wanted to. I’ve enjoyed your company. It also seemed you owed me a favor.” The side of his mouth curved up, but only briefly, as if he were trying to suppress a smile. Was he flirting with her?
“Did I?”
He leaned his head a trifle too close and whispered, “Because I rescued you.”
Of course. She smiled. “Indeed you did. May we consider the debt repaid?”
He pondered this a moment, his gaze lifting toward the chandelier for a step or two. “I’m not certain that’s fair. You did falter, and your foot nearly trampled mine. I think I’ll have to demand another dance.”
“Demand? I’m not at all sure I enjoy autocratic gentlemen.”
He looked suddenly terrified. “Do you mean to change my nickname to the Duke of Demanding?”
“You’re joking.” She hadn’t been sure, but the crinkles next to his eyes gave him away. �
�Yes, you’re joking. Just for that I’m going to call you the Duke of Disagreeable.”
He laughed. “This is much better, thank you. I was horrified for a moment there that I’d misjudged you. I’m glad I did not.”
His gaze delved into hers, and she heard his words in her mind: Not the ones worth having. Were there truly any of those?
She doubted it very much, but for the first time wondered if there just might be. Could Sutton be one of them?
That she even entertained the thought filled her with trepidation. He was charming and clever, but he was still the Duke of Deception. He could be worth having, or he could be an utter fiend.
Neither mattered to her because she never planned to find out.
Chapter Five
As the music drew to a close, Ned was sorry to see their dance end. It had been a combination of alarm, frustration, and amusement. One thing he would say about Miss Knox—she wasn’t dull.
He was still trying to make sense of her bizarre behavior. Completely at odds with their previous interactions, she’d looked at him with wide-eyed fervor. Her voice had taken on a singsong lilt that made her sound far younger than he knew her to be. That she’d bragged of her dancing prowess and proceeded to stumble not once but twice had been particularly confusing. Until he’d realized there was something wrong. Either she’d undergone a complete change of personality, he’d misjudged her, or she’d been putting on an act. He was pleased to discover it was the latter.
Her reasoning—that men liked that sort of behavior—didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t entirely sure he believed her. Yet that didn’t deter him. On the contrary, it intrigued the hell out of him. He just knew there was much more to Miss Knox than met the eye.
He looked toward where Lady Satterfield was standing with the Duchess of Kendal and was glad to see his aunt with them. She was an excellent ally and an even better spy.
She wasn’t really spying, he told himself. He was merely utilizing her help so that he could be diligent. Whatever he wanted to call it, ensuring his potential wife would meet his requirements was essential.
