I Dared the Duke

by Anna Bennett

  “Er, I suppose.” Alex still couldn’t find Beth.

  Darby leaned on the mezzanine railing. “Has Haversham fallen down yet? Or better yet, casted up his accounts?”

  “No. He’s been consorting with the gypsy and another woman, who is wearing man’s breeches.”

  Intrigued, Darby nodded. “My fondness for masquerade balls grows by the minute.”

  Alex snorted. “Don’t let a woman in breeches make you forget the plan.” Although, even he was beginning to wonder if their machinations were necessary. The ball had been blessedly uneventful, and it seemed highly unlikely that the villain would be bold enough to attempt murder while two hundred of London’s most elite looked on.

  Still, he’d feel better if he knew where Beth was.

  “Newton’s heading toward the refreshment table,” Darby said. “I’d better go and make sure he doesn’t slip anything into the champagne. I’ll meet you back here in an hour.”

  Alex gave him a grateful slap on the shoulder as he left. “See you at half past eleven.”

  As he scanned the ballroom below from left to right, a glimpse of red drew his eye.

  Beth.

  She stood in a small circle comprised of two women in light-colored gowns—her sisters, if he had to guess—and a Templar knight.

  Alex studied the man, finding something familiar about his athletic stance and confident bearing. And then he placed him—Richard Coulsen.

  He recalled the conversation he’d had with Darby at the pub a week ago. Coulsen did stand to gain a dukedom if Alex died. Was Alex being naïve to think that his cousin was above suspicion?

  But his gut told him Coulsen wasn’t a threat to him—at least not in a physical sense. Honorable and hard-working, his cousin presented a different sort of threat, perhaps more dangerous. Because he seemed less interested in Alex’s title and fortune than he did in Beth.

  But surely Alex’s worries were unfounded. It was true that he’d been consumed with finding his would-be killer, but Beth understood that and would wait for him.

  Swallowing his doubts, he flicked his gaze to Haversham. Good God. The gypsy that the marquess had been fawning over for much of the night stroked his long, fake beard, and the two were slyly making their way toward the tall doors leading out to the verandah.

  The skin between Alex’s shoulder blades prickled. What if Haversham only pretended to be drunk? What if he was using the gypsy as an alibi for nefarious activities that were underway at this very moment? Alex had to follow him.

  He took one last, long look at Beth, willing her to look up him so he could give her a sign that he was thinking of her. So she’d know he was counting the minutes until this godforsaken ball was over so that he could go to her and tell her what he should have told her yesterday.

  That he wanted to marry her.

  Haversham and the gypsy staggered toward the verandah, laughing.

  Please, Beth, look at me.

  Time was running out. Even now, the marquess and his companion slipped outside, disappearing from view.

  Damn it. Beth couldn’t know he was up there on the mezzanine, but he desperately wanted to believe that she heard his silent plea. I’m here. Don’t give up on me. Believe in us.

  Just as he was about to leave and chase after Haversham, Beth turned her face up, gazing at the chandeliers, the silk bunting draped along the mezzanine railing—and finally, at him.

  He nodded his head and held his breath, waiting for some form of recognition. A signal that all was well with her—and with them.

  She froze momentarily, then timidly raised her hand and waved.

  Smiling, he exhaled. “This is real,” he murmured, hoping the words echoed in her heart.

  He lingered one more moment before striding toward the verandah.

  * * *

  Beth’s belly fluttered as she watched Alex walk away. For one second, while he’d smiled at her, the music had silenced, the dancers had paused, and the revelers had stilled. In the midst of the bustling ballroom, she and Alex had found each other.

  Hope blossomed in her chest.

  Julie jabbed an elbow into her side.

  “Ow,” she mumbled, glancing at the faces around her. Both of her sisters stared at her, eyes narrowed, as though they were starting to piece the puzzle together. Mr. Coulsen’s gaze flicked to the now empty spot where Alex had stood and back to Beth.

  And she thought she’d been subtle. Blast.

  “Mr. Coulsen asked you a question,” Meg whispered.

  “I beg your pardon,” Beth said. “It’s difficult to hear above the orchestra.”

  Julie rolled her eyes. As if Beth didn’t already know how pathetic her excuse was.

  “I wondered if you might like to take a turn about the room,” he said smoothly.

  In spite of herself, Beth glanced at the mezzanine again. Alex was preoccupied with his investigation—as he should be.

  Mr. Coulsen was a gentleman, and she admired him—in the same way one might an older brother. Spending a few minutes in his company certainly couldn’t hurt. On the contrary, it would allow her to pass the time and to escape her sisters’ questions about the duke, which were coming just as surely as she stood there.

  “I’d be delighted to.” She smiled as she took the arm Mr. Coulsen offered. He made a polite bow to her sisters, who glared at her as though she had much explaining to do. Beth made a mental note to avoid them for as long as possible.

  Mr. Coulsen’s arm was solid—if not quite as hard as Alex’s—and his manners were impeccable. They strolled around the perimeter of the room, avoiding the clusters of guests and enjoying a respite from the merriment.

  “It was very kind of the dowager duchess to invite me tonight,” he said, his blue eyes earnest. “I’d concluded my business here and had planned to return to Kent yesterday but couldn’t turn down the opportunity to attend such a grand event … mostly because I wished to see you.”

  Oh dear. Beth swallowed and looked at the toes of her gold slippers peeking beneath the hem of her blue gown. She hated to hurt Mr. Coulsen’s feelings, but it wasn’t fair to raise his hopes.

  “I am honored that you would say such a—” she began.

  “It’s true.”

  She stopped near the corner of the room, where they had a modicum of privacy, and sighed regretfully. “While I hold you in the highest esteem, I feel obliged to tell you that … that my affections are elsewhere engaged.”

  He didn’t flinch, but his shoulders sloped ever so slightly. “I was afraid of that. I saw the look you exchanged with Blackshire. You care for him?”

  Beth ignored the question. “I’m sorry. And I do hope we may remain friends.” The words seemed so inadequate—almost trite—and yet she meant them with all her heart. She had few friends beyond her sisters and the seventy-something-year-old duchess. It would be nice to count Mr. Coulsen among them.

  “Of course we may,” he said sincerely. “I won’t pretend that I’m not disappointed, however I cannot say that I’m surprised. Someone as kind and beautiful as you should have a bevy of suitors.”

  “It’s not like that,” she assured him. “This … attachment … well, it developed rather spontaneously, when I least expected it.” Lord help her, why was she divulging these details to Mr. Coulsen? “In any event, I have reason to believe that the, ah … gentleman returns my affections.” Heat crept up her neck. She might as well come right out and tell Mr. Coulsen that only yesterday her suitor had ravished her in his wine cellar.

  “Any man who didn’t return your affections would be a fool,” he said matter-of-factly.

  For some reason, his blunt declaration brought tears to her eyes, and she sniffled. “Thank you.”

  “I hope that you believe me, Miss Lacey—Beth, if I may.”

  “Of course.” It seemed harmless enough.

  “I strongly believe that you deserve someone honorable and true,” he said. “And I suppose that’s why I feel obliged to divulge information
that I’ve recently learned.”

  A chill ran the length of Beth’s spine, and her stomach roiled. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s something you should know about the Duke of Blackshire.”

  Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

  Beth fought the urge to flee from Mr. Coulsen and the ballroom entirely. What could he possibly know about Alex that she did not?

  “If you are referring to the duke’s notorious reputation,” she said coolly, “I can assure you I am already aware of it.”

  “No, that’s not it.” He propped his hands on his hips, thoughtful yet fierce, looking every inch the noble knight. “I fear that the news may trouble you, and yet, I feel I must disclose it.”

  She doubted that he referred to the fire or Alex’s parents or even the attempts on his life. Instead, she had the sense that Mr. Coulsen was about to tell her something far more personal.

  “Please,” she said softly. “Whatever it is that you must tell me … just say it.”

  He let out a long, slow breath, as if the revelation would pain him too. “After we spoke at Lord and Lady Claville’s ball, I found myself dwelling on our conversation, specifically the part where you told me that you and your sisters were known throughout the ton as the Wilting Wallflowers. Once I recovered from my shock, I couldn’t help being appalled … and angry.”

  His outrage on her behalf warmed her. “I appreciate your concern for our reputations. But we’ve learned to ignore the vicious barbs and superior stares. You needn’t fret on our account.” Still, it was nice to know someone did.

  “I made some inquiries,” he said. “To try and discover the source of the ridiculous label. I was determined to confront the scoundrel. Anyone who would treat three young ladies so cruelly and callously deserves to be called out for his behavior.”

  Icy dread filled her veins. “What does this have to do with the duke?”

  Mr. Coulsen’s jaw clenched. “He is the one who gave you and your sisters the name, Beth. He dubbed you the Wilting Wallflowers.”

  She blinked, dumbfounded. It simply couldn’t be true. Alex would never have been so malicious. Mr. Coulsen was probably just maligning him in order to gain favor with her. Perhaps he was jealous of Alex or held some sort of grudge.

  “I … I don’t know what to say.” Suddenly chilled, she rubbed the tops of her arms.

  As though privy to her thoughts, he said, “I wouldn’t blame you for doubting me. And I won’t deny that I had hoped to further our acquaintance. Of course, I’m disappointed to learn that your affections are otherwise engaged, but I tell you the truth only so that you may be armed with the facts.”

  “I understand,” she said numbly—even though she understood nothing. Mr. Coulsen had essentially accused the man she loved of causing her and her sisters years of untold pain. Her heart simply refused to accept it.

  Snippets of intimate conversations with Alex echoed in her head.

  Promise me something. The next time someone calls you a wallflower, see yourself the way I’m seeing you right now … Don’t give that word an ounce of power over you. Don’t let it define you.

  She swallowed the painful knot in her throat. No, no. He’d defended her. He’d helped her break free from the name. He couldn’t have been the one to launch the horrible, hateful name that had haunted her and her sisters for the last three years.

  “I appreciate your candor and do not doubt that you are well-intentioned,” she said stiffly. “However, is it not possible that you were misinformed in this instance?” After all, the ton had been incorrect about Alex’s reputation as the prince of rakes. They could be wrong about this too, couldn’t they?

  “I don’t think so,” Mr. Coulsen said regretfully. “The person who confirmed the fact for me is a close friend of the duke’s—none other than Lord Darberville. He happened to be present on that dubious occasion. You may ask him yourself if you’d like.”

  Beth didn’t want to hear any more. Alex trusted Lord Darberville more than anyone. And if he claimed that Alex had done it … Oh, God.

  It must be true.

  The ballroom tilted, her fingers went numb, and a low buzz started in her ears. “I think I require a bit of time to consider all you’ve said.”

  “Of course.” His forehead creased in concern. “Forgive me if I’ve spoiled your evening. Shall I return you to your sisters?”

  Her mouth turned dry as burnt toast. “No … thank you. I think I shall take a moment to freshen up. Please excuse me.”

  Her heart galloping, she fled toward the nearest door, amazed that her wobbly legs carried her out of the ballroom. Once in the hall, she hastily shrugged off the red cloak that seemed to be choking her, slumped her back against the wall, and gulped air.

  She mustn’t swoon. Closing her eyes, she willed her heart to slow and the floor to cease rocking.

  It worked. After a minute she no longer felt like she might faint … but it took every ounce of self-control she possessed to keep from bursting into tears.

  How could she have been so terribly wrong about Alex? Had she been so desperate to believe that someone needed and cared for her that she’d fallen into bed with the first man who’d paid her a compliment or two?

  She’d thought that what they’d shared was real. But he’d lied to her. Perhaps, as they’d made love, he’d been chuckling at the irony of it all. He’d dubbed her a wallflower and then bedded her.

  And if he’d been bold enough to lie about this, who knew what other falsehoods he’d told? He might have exaggerated the story about his parents’ death to gain her sympathy. He might have seduced her so she’d cooperate with his plan to move his grandmother to the country. And at every turn, she had willingly, nay, eagerly taken him at his word.

  He could have confessed the truth and she most likely would have forgiven him. But instead, he’d played her for the fool.

  Now, in the wake of Mr. Coulsen’s revelation, she felt beyond humiliated.

  For only the most naïve sort of person would ever believe in dragons.

  She swiped at her eyes. Whatever magic the masquerade had once held for her was lost. She had no wish to return to the ballroom, but she had little choice in the matter. The dowager would be looking for her, as would her sisters and Uncle Alistair, and she couldn’t worry them by disappearing for the rest of the evening.

  The worst part was that, in spite of his betrayal, Beth couldn’t completely turn her back on Alex either.

  His deception made her question everything … but tonight, she’d do what she could during the ball to help expose his would-be killer.

  Because while he might not deserve her love, he did not deserve to die.

  She would go to her bedchamber, splash a bit of cold water on her face, and gather herself for no more than a quarter of an hour. Then she would return to the ballroom and carry on, pretending that she wasn’t hollow inside—and that her foolish heart hadn’t shattered into a million tiny pieces.

  * * *

  After spending much of the last hour watching Haversham and the gypsy engage in drunken amorous activities on the verandah, Alex felt the need to scrub his eyes. Or at the very least, have a strong drink.

  But he could not let down his guard, especially as the evening grew late and the guests grew more raucous. At that very moment, the killer could be drinking his champagne, gliding across his dance floor, or, God forbid, talking with his grandmother.

  Moving briskly, Alex stalked to the meeting spot on the mezzanine and immediately scanned the throng below, sure that he’d be able to spot Beth from that vantage point. But he saw no sign of her bright red cape. He gripped the railing tightly and checked again. Surely, she wouldn’t have left the ballroom.

  Her sisters were both on the dance floor. Her uncle viewed the festivities from one of the chairs along the wall, not far from where Alex’s grandmother also sat. But Beth was not beside either of them, so where was she? And who was she with?

  Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth
, he scanned the crowd again, this time looking for Coulsen. Alex had defended him to Darby, but the way his cousin had been looking at Beth made Alex want to punch something—or someone. Maybe he’d been too hasty to dismiss him as a suspect.

  Alex spotted the knight with a group of other young bucks near the refreshment table. He stood slightly apart from his companions and wore a somber expression that Alex hoped resulted from being soundly rejected by Beth.

  But Alex no longer trusted him.

  He checked his pocket watch. Darby was five minutes late, and neither he nor Newton seemed to be in the ballroom, which meant he’d likely followed Newton somewhere, and Alex needed to find both of them—quickly, just in case Newton was up to no good.

  There were five ways to exit the ballroom. Alex could eliminate the verandah as a possible point of departure, which left the main doors, the side door, the tea room, and a back staircase.

  He left the mezzanine and headed toward the back staircase, looking for Darby’s black scarf—and any sign of trouble.

  Chapter THIRTY-SIX

  Beth’s legs still felt shaky, but she no longer feared she’d burst into tears. She pushed aside thoughts of Alex’s betrayal. There’d be plenty of time in the days, weeks, and months to come to dwell on the pain he’d caused her family.

  For now, she needed to focus on keeping Alex, his grandmother, and all the guests safe.

  Thus far, she’d had little time to do any investigating, a matter she intended to rectify as soon as possible. But first, she would see how the dowager was faring.

  Beth found her sitting on the side of the room, tapping her foot in time to the music.

  “I’d wondered where you’d gone,” the duchess said, without a hint of censure. “I’d rather hoped that the handsome Mr. Coulsen would claim you for a dance.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” she said lightly. “I was merely fetching your fan.” Beth handed it to her and sat beside her.

  “It has grown rather stuffy,” the dowager commented. “But then, every successful ball is.” She smiled smugly, her merry eyes crinkling behind her spectacles.