The Duke of Distraction

by Darcy Burke

  All heads turned toward her, and she waved her fan in an effort to cool her reddening cheeks.

  Felix moved on to the next person and so on until he reached Sarah on the settee. She took a moment to survey the room, but not as long as anyone else had done. “Viscount Blakesley.”

  The viscount gave her a wicked stare, and Anthony let out a very low growl that likely only Felix and Beck could hear. Felix shot him a quelling glance, and Anthony frowned in response.

  Rolling his eyes, Felix went back to asking the rest of the guests to guess their kisser. He went last and decided to choose the only lady who hadn’t been chosen—the game had turned into an exercise in deduction. “Miss Reynolds,” he said, wondering if he was right. And also wondering if there was anything to be done about it, for he would certainly dream of her tonight.

  “Now it’s time to reveal what number room you were in or went to,” Felix said. Everyone seemed to lean forward, and the tension in the room climbed. “Number one. Who was the lady?”

  Miss Elinor Conwyn raised her hand. “It was me.”

  “Damn,” Sherington said, and everyone laughed.

  “And who was the gentleman?” Felix asked.

  “Me.” Mr. Winston-Whit waved at Miss Conwyn, who blushed profusely again and worked her fan.

  Her sister patted Miss Conwyn’s shoulder, and Felix continued. “Who was the lady in room two?” He already knew, of course.

  “Me.” Mrs. Alnwick batted her lashes at Felix.

  “And who was the gentleman?”

  “I was,” Baron Hardwick responded, causing Mrs. Alnwick’s eyes to widen and her lips to form a small, brief pout. She quickly recovered and sent a wave to the baron, who chortled with glee. “I was correct in my guess,” he said.

  “You were indeed,” Felix said. “No forfeit for you.”

  They continued on with the occupants of room three and four, the latter of which the younger Miss Christie and Mr. Lytton guessed each other correctly. There was much laughter over this as well as a few wagers that they would be wed by fall. Both turned pink, and Felix worried he would actually gain a reputation as a matchmaker. Because of that, he said, “I feel bound to remind you that these assignments were completely random.” Almost completely.

  And now he was to room five. His heart sped as he anxiously awaited the identity of the woman who’d stolen his equilibrium and probably his sleep for at least tonight. “Who was the lady in room five?”

  “Me.”

  The voice slammed into him, upsetting his composure once more. Felix hadn’t been looking at her. Why would he? She was one of two women who could not have been in that closet. And yet he knew her voice.

  His gaze snapped to Sarah. “It was you?”

  “Yes.” Her answer was hesitant, almost worried. “Who was the gentleman?” But she seemed to already know as the color drained from her face.

  “Me.” Felix’s answer was flat and completely at odds with the storm crashing inside him. How had this happened? How had he kissed Sarah?

  He didn’t dare look at Anthony. He couldn’t. He’d thoroughly kissed his best friend’s sister, and worse? He’d enjoyed it more than any other kiss in his life.

  Sarah stared at Felix in disbelief. She’d kissed him. Twice. And touched him places. And he’d touched her. She thought about what Lavinia had told her about what it felt like to kiss the right man.

  No, no, no. Not Felix. He was like a brother.

  Her gaze strayed to Anthony, who was glaring at Felix in what had to be an exact mirror of her own shock. Well, maybe not exact. Anthony’s mouth was pulled tight, and there was a slight narrowing to his eyes. He looked…displeased.

  It was all her fault. She’d bumped into Miss Reynolds as they made their way from the drawing room, and they’d both dropped their numbers. Sarah had thought Felix had given her number nine but hadn’t been positive. Besides, she couldn’t have changed numbers because Miss Reynolds had scooped up her number and gone to the footman to be directed to the correct room. Sarah had briefly worried that she wouldn’t kiss Blakesley but decided it didn’t really matter.

  Only it had.

  How was she to know Felix was going to be in a room! He was supposed to be overseeing the activity, not participating in it. He certainly wasn’t supposed to be kissing her senseless and making her ache for more.

  Sarah stared at her lap as Felix continued with the revelations. He sounded a bit off, as if he couldn’t focus on what he was doing. Good. He deserved that.

  Wait, was she angry with him? It had been a mistake. A complete and utter accident. Surely they could laugh about it.

  Someday. Maybe.

  For now, she would try not to think about how much she’d liked it. Or about how she’d left the room and prayed she’d have occasion to kiss that man again.

  She never, ever would.

  And that was maybe the source of her distress. Oh, bloody, bloody hell.

  Felix finished with room nine, which was Blakesley and Miss Reynolds. “Lady Northam, who escaped a forfeit this round?” Felix asked.

  “Mr. Lytton, Miss Christie, Baron Hardwick, and Miss Smithson,” Lavinia answered. Her gaze connected with Sarah, and it was clear she was quite interested in talking to her about whom she’d kissed.

  “Well done,” Felix said.

  “Mr. Lytton has escaped forfeiture all evening,” Lavinia said.

  Lytton’s good friend, Baron Hardwick, hooted with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “For that, he should get to assign the punishments.”

  There was a wave of agreement, and Felix motioned for the footman to come forward. He held a bowl, presumably full of the penalties. “I’ll leave it to you, then,” Felix said to Lytton, taking himself to a corner by himself instead of joining Anthony and Beck. Anthony was still sending him perturbed stares.

  Lytton went to where Felix had stood in front of the main doorway and rubbed his hands together, grinning. “This will be terribly fun.”

  “Be kind!” Blakesley called.

  “For that, I will be particularly harsh with you, sir,” Lytton said with a humorous glint in his eye. This was greeted with laughter, and Lytton seemed to bask in the attention. He turned toward Lavinia at the table. “Lady Northam, will you mark off the penalties as I assign them?”

  “I will.”

  Lytton drew the first paper and chuckled softly. “I should review the list of forfeits to see who has how many,” he said, moving to the table to stand beside Lavinia. The footman followed him. “Feel free to set the bowl down,” Lytton directed. The footman did so and retreated to the doorway.

  “The first punishment is The Dumb Orator, and it’s clearly going to be Blakesley doing the talking,” Lytton announced. This was met with guffaws as Blakesley moved to the center of the room. He bowed in grandiose fashion and laughed as he straightened.

  “I’ll choose Miss Saunders to be his arms.”

  She bounded from her chair with a giggle and moved to stand behind the viscount, who was considerably taller.

  “Fetch him a chair,” someone called.

  The footman produced a chair, and Blakesley sat. Miss Saunders was visible over his head, but that only made it more humorous. “The two-headed Dumb Orator,” Fielding cracked, much to everyone’s continued amusement.

  Blakesley began an incredibly dull, monotone oration on the color of grass, of all things, while Miss Saunders gestured wildly with her arms. By the time they were finished, everyone was laughing so hard, they were crying.

  Except Felix.

  Sarah glanced toward the corner, and he was staring at her, his mouth in a tight, unforgiving line. Was he angry with her? Why should he be? Because she’d gone to the wrong room? It was an honest mistake.

  “Time for the next penalty,” Lytton said, drawing another paper from the bowl. “Oh, this is delightful. Le Baiser à la Capucine. Kiss the Monkey.” He looked down at the list in front of Lavinia and then circled the room to survey the guests. �
�I must choose just the right pair.” He stopped in front of Felix, and Sarah’s pulse sped.

  “Lord Ware,” Lytton said. Then he spun on his heel and looked straight at Sarah. “And Miss Colton. Clearly, their meeting in room five was unexpected.”

  Clearly. Because they’d both reacted with utter shock. Oh, this was bad, bad, bad. She didn’t dare look at Anthony. Would he try to stop it?

  She also ignored Lavinia. Sarah didn’t want encouragement or laughter or horror or anything but for this to be over as quickly as possible. Yes, she’d wanted to kiss the man in room five again. But to learn it was Felix and to have to kiss him again in front of so many people was absolutely horrifying.

  Sarah stood, her legs quivering. She prayed no one would notice. Felix moved toward the center of the room. Their eyes connected, and she tried to read something—anything—in the depths of his green eyes. But he was utterly inscrutable.

  Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she tried to wipe all emotion from her face. She knelt on the floor.

  “Do you need a cushion?” Felix asked softly.

  “No.” She was glad her voice sounded calm.

  He knelt with his back to hers, and they both turned their heads toward each other. He was so close… The movement pushed her off-balance, and he twined his arm around hers to grasp her hand, keeping her upright. It was an awkward but also intimate position—their hands clasped, their arms entwined, their backs pressed together, their faces so close, she could see every detail of his dark lashes and the way his green eyes darkened toward the pupil.

  Then he closed his eyes, and she did the same. His lips connected with hers, moving softly, gently, so unlike what had happened between them in the dark closet. But for the briefest moment, she was right back there, her body heating with desire.

  It was over as quickly as it had begun, and as quickly as it needed to be. Felix pulled his mouth from hers, and she opened her eyes to see him staring intently at her. She caught a flash of something, but it was gone so quickly, she doubted what she’d seen. He went back to being unreadable. She was vaguely aware of people applauding.

  He released her hand and unwound his arm from hers, then stood and helped her up. She touched him as fleetingly as possible, too aware of how different it suddenly felt. She’d touched him countless times before, but now it carried a sensual heat that was impossible to ignore.

  How were they going to carry on after this?

  Sarah again avoided looking at her brother or Lavinia as she made her way back to the settee. She sat stiff-straight as she waited for Lytton to assign the remaining punishments and prayed he wouldn’t give her another kissing penalty. Thankfully, she had only one more.

  As it happened, Lytton chose her to be one of the Living Statues. Miss Saunders positioned Sarah in a crouching position with her arms wrapped around herself. It was difficult to keep her balance, but fortunately, she was one of the last to be placed and didn’t have to hold her statue for long.

  During the last set of punishments—a quadrille with eight guests wearing blindfolds and four guests playing the instruments in a quartet—Felix left. Sarah chided herself to stop paying attention to him as Lavinia joined her on the settee.

  “I’m so glad to be done with the record keeping,” she said. “I never would have agreed had I known what would happen. I’ve been positively burning to come talk to you.” She lowered her voice to a soft whisper. “I can’t believe you ended up kissing Felix. You had no idea?”

  Sarah was torn between wanting to tell Lavinia about the kiss and how she’d felt about it and hoping the floor would open up and swallow her whole. “No.”

  “I had that impression. It didn’t seem Felix knew either.”

  No, he would have been just as surprised—he’d expected her to be in a room with Blakesley. And even if he had known, he presumably wouldn’t have kissed or touched her like that. When she thought of the way his tongue had explored her mouth or his hands had caressed her back and neck… She’d best not think of it.

  “Where did he go?” Lavinia asked, then shrugged. “Anthony looked a bit displeased, didn’t he?”

  Sarah shot a glance toward her brother. He was still frowning. “Yes,” she murmured. “And poor Beck looks bored.”

  “He is,” Lavinia said with a laugh. “He’d rather be writing a poem or creating new music.”

  “I’m sure he finds the quartet’s ‘music’ rather ghastly.” Sarah began to relax in the company of her friend. Maybe it wasn’t so bad. Hopefully, they could all behave as if it had never happened.

  But then Felix was beside the settee—she hadn’t seen him return—and her heart threatened to leap from her chest. Pretend it had never happened…ha!

  “Sarah, will you come with me?” he asked, offering her his hand.

  His demeanor was overtly gentle, his face creased with concern and, truthfully, a bit pale. Curious—and a bit anxious—she put her fingers in his and stood. He kept hold of her, which she found utterly surprising, and led her to Anthony, which she also found shocking.

  “Anthony, come out with us.”

  “Yes,” he said sternly, his dark brows dipping over his irritated gaze. He stalked from the room, and Felix and Sarah followed.

  The drawing room exited into a sitting room, but Felix didn’t stop when Anthony did. “Come with me,” he said, and she noted a catch in his voice. What the devil was going on?

  “Felix, this isn’t necessary,” she said, hoping to defuse the tension. “Neither one of us meant for that…” she couldn’t bring herself to say kiss, “to happen. And Anthony, you mustn’t be angry with Felix. Or me.”

  “I knew kissing games were a bad idea,” Anthony said.

  “You were more than happy to participate last night,” Sarah said wryly.

  Felix led them into the library. Once they were inside, he turned and closed the door. He looked at Sarah with grave concern. “This isn’t about us kissing. A note was just delivered. Dartford thought it best that I read it first and then tell you the news. I agreed that it might be easier—”

  “What’s wrong?” Anthony’s voice was flat and completely at odds with the fire in his blue eyes.

  “There’s been a—” Felix ran his hand through his hair. “Hell, there is no good way to say this. Maybe you should just read it.” He thrust the paper, which Sarah hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, toward Anthony.

  “Tell me,” she said, her heart racing for an altogether different reason than it had been earlier. Fear laced through her, chilling her body.

  “Your parents are dead.” Felix came toward her, his gaze warm with compassion. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. They were on their way to Oaklands, and there was trouble.”

  “Trouble? Fucking highwaymen,” Anthony growled. He crumpled the paper and threw it. Then he looked about the room wildly before striding toward the wall.

  Sarah didn’t pay attention to what he was doing. She could only stare at Felix—and he at her. He reached for her, and she clasped his forearms to steady herself since her legs had begun to shake. “They’re dead?”

  “Killed,” Anthony said from across the room against the sound of clinking glass. “Bloody killed.” His voice broke, and Sarah turned from Felix, rushing to her brother, who stood with his hands braced on the sideboard and his head bent.

  She gently touched his shoulder, and he turned and wrapped her in his arms.

  They gave in to the crushing grief, sobbing, knowing nothing would ever be the same.

  Chapter 6

  “Time for a walk!” Felix called as he entered the drawing room at the Coltons’ London town house. Every day for the past twenty-four days, he’d come here and done his best to cheer Anthony and Sarah, and every day, he left feeling helpless.

  Anthony was racked with guilt since he was the one who was supposed to travel to Oaklands. Instead, he’d delayed the trip so he could attend Felix’s frivolous party. His anger toward Felix had been white-hot at first, which Felix h
ad been more than willing to endure. It was the least he could do.

  Sarah, on the other hand, had withdrawn. Lavinia had visited just about every day, but she’d left feeling as dejected as Felix. And now she was gone, having traveled to Suffolk for their friend Fanny’s wedding to the Earl of St. Ives.

  Today, Sarah sat near the windows that overlooked the street below. She glanced over at Felix as he entered and offered him a wan smile. “Good afternoon.”

  She’d grown a bit thin, and her eyes lacked their familiar sparkle. He tried, with every visit—at least every visit when he saw her—to make her smile. Sometimes he succeeded, and sometimes he didn’t. That she smiled upon his arrival today was an improvement. He took it as encouragement and decided to see if she was ready to talk about the future.

  “The space on Vigo Lane is still available,” he said, dragging a chair to sit near her in front of the windows. “Would you like to go see it tomorrow?”

  She didn’t register she’d even heard him. He said her name, and she turned her head toward him. “I’ve given up on the shop. It was a silly dream anyway.”

  He hated hearing the sadness in her voice. “It wasn’t. Why are you giving up?”

  “Why would I need the shop now? There’s no one to care that I become a spinster.” Her jaw tightened, and she looked back at the window.

  “I care. So does Anthony.”

  She tossed him a skeptical glance. “Are you certain about that? The only thing Anthony seems to care about is a bottle that holds alcohol.”

  That much was true. Felix had tried to drag him out of the house, but he simply wouldn’t budge. Not even for a trip to the Red Door. Not that Felix had been since the party.

  Since the Coltons had died.

  They’d been like family to him, but he couldn’t possibly feel the loss as deeply as Sarah or Anthony.

  Felix tried another tack regarding the shop. “What of your assistant? Isn’t she expecting to manage the shop?”

  “I sent a note to Dolly explaining everything. She understands.”