How to Catch a Devilish Duke: The Disreputable Debutantes

by Bennett, Amy Rose

  “Well, yes.” She grimaced and twisted her hands again, willing herself to confess all. “Actually, I think I’ve just done something beyond foolish. Something that you might hate me for.”

  “I seriously doubt that,” he said, concern creasing his brow. “But come, let’s sit by the fire, and you can tell me all about it.”

  By the time Charlie finished recounting what had happened at Gunter’s Tea Shop, Max’s frown had descended into ferocious territory. “I can’t believe Erasmus Silver was at my mother’s house,” he said, his voice hard with anger. “If she’s had anything at all to do with this concerted campaign to discredit you since our engagement, by God…” He thumped his curled fist on the arm of his wingback chair and shook his head. “As for Rochfort, it doesn’t surprise me at all that he and Silver are on friendly terms. But my mother?” He shook his head, his expression grim. “I agree with you. That slippery, soulless eel Silver appears to be protecting her. The pertinent question is why? Why is the Dowager Duchess of Exmoor so special? You’d think a salacious story about a high-ranking member of the ton would be impossible for him to ignore.”

  “You’re…you’re not angry at me for attempting to spread false gossip about your mother?” Charlie asked. “If Erasmus Silver does take the bait after all…”

  Max met her eyes. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Your reasoning and method for testing your hypothesis were sound. And to put your mind at ease, I’m certain Silver won’t do a thing. If he really did want to publish the story, he would have jumped at the chance to gather every last little detail from you. But he didn’t, and that is decidedly odd. Of course, Silver could just be protecting Rochfort, the other subject of your story…” Max sighed heavily. “Damn it. I wish I knew more about the company that owns the Beau Monde Mirror. My man of affairs and an inquiry agent have been trying to dig up information on them, but to date, their inquiries have yielded nothing helpful.”

  “I’m also worried about the fact that I’ve just poked a dangerous bear with a terribly big stick,” said Charlie. “If Erasmus Silver goes to your mother or Rochfort and tells them what I tried to do…” A shiver raced down her spine. “I can’t imagine either of them shrugging it off.”

  Max reached out and clasped her hand. “You’ve nothing to fear, Charlie. I’ll protect you.”

  Alarm flared inside Charlie. “Please promise me you won’t do anything rash. I’ve caused enough trouble as it is.”

  “I won’t. And you haven’t done anything wrong. Well”—Max’s mouth quirked with a smile—“that’s not entirely true. You did walk in on me as I was about to take a bath. Imagine the field day the Beau Monde Mirror would have with a story like that if it ever got out.”

  Charlie clutched her throat in mock horror. “Perish the thought. But in all seriousness, Max, I’m so sorry for barging in. Again. And your bathwater is probably cold by now, so I should go. I have to get ready for this evening too.” She stood. “I don’t want to be late for whatever it is you have planned. Actually”—she gave him a reproving look—“you said you were going to send word to me about all of the details, but you haven’t.”

  Max rose too. Cocking a brow, he said, “Actually, I have. However, you came barging into my private rooms—your words, not mine—rather than returning home to Hastings House, didn’t you? But I agree. You should go before I decide to drag you into the bath with me.”

  Charlie laughed. “Silly man. And you think that sort of threat will scare me away? You know I’m not a shrinking violet.”

  “No, you’re not.” Catching her hand against his chest, Max swooped down and gave her a swift, hard kiss. “I’m serious, though. If you don’t leave now, I will have my wicked way with you, and then we’ll both be very late…” His mouth kicked into a grin. “For Almack’s.”

  “Almack’s?” Charlie gasped. “How on earth did you manage to procure vouchers?”

  “I’m a duke.” He winked. “I can have whatever I want, whenever I want it, don’t you know?”

  I wish you truly wanted me. For your wife. Charlie swallowed a sigh. Even if Max never professed his undying love for her, she would take what she could get from this new, oh-so-devilish, willing-to-take-chances Max rather than the keep-you-at-a-distance Max of old. “I’m beginning to suspect that you’re working your way through my not-so-secret list, Maximilian Devereux.”

  His wicked grin was back. “I might be. You deserve to be happy, Charlie. I might not be able to give you everything you want, but I’m going to try my damnedest to make you smile.”

  “Well, how can I take issue with that?” she returned. “And thank you. Not only for the Almack’s voucher, but for believing in me.” Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him on the cheek. Stubble prickled her lips, and she smiled. “I’ll see you tonight, Your Grace,” she whispered against his ear while she trailed her fingers down his bare chest.

  As she turned to go, she swore that she heard Max mutter, “Minx.” But she didn’t mind at all because she knew without a doubt that he liked her just the way she was.

  As soon as the door shut, Max uttered a string of the worst curse words he knew.

  What the bloody, blazing hell was his mother up to? He had to find out.

  After washing and dressing rapidly, he marched over to Devereux House. He found his mother in her private study, dictating a letter to her secretary. Diana sat by the fire, reading a novel. Everyone looked up the moment he walked in.

  “Maximilian.” His mother’s smile quickly disappeared when she noted the thunderous expression on his face. Her private secretary and Diana quickly disappeared too.

  “Now, what can I do for you?” she asked when they were alone. Leaning back in the elegant shepherdess chair behind her desk, she didn’t look the least bit perturbed. It was almost as though she’d been anticipating both his arrival and his foul mood.

  “I think you know why I’m here,” he growled.

  “My secretary tells me you picked up your Almack’s vouchers this morning, so I haven’t the slightest idea why you’ve come back again so soon, my son,” she said smoothly. “However, judging by the look on your face, you clearly don’t wish to take tea with me and chat about the weather. So why don’t you enlighten me?”

  By God, she was cold-blooded. But then she always had been. Max fought to rein in his anger and modulate his voice. “Why are you consorting with the likes of Erasmus Silver? And to what end?”

  His mother’s brow descended into a puzzled frown. “Erasmus Silver? I’m not sure if I’ve heard—”

  Max raised an admonitory finger. “Don’t. Don’t you dare tell me that you don’t know exactly who Erasmus Silver is, or that he’s the head editor of the Beau Monde Mirror, the most scurrilous scandalmongering rag in the country that has published harmful gossip, not just about me and my closest friends, but all but ruined my fiancée on multiple occasions.”

  His mother’s already pale complexion blanched to the shade of the parchment paper on the blotter before her. “You’re right,” she said. “I do know who he is.”

  “And would you care to explain how you came to know him?”

  His mother seemed to rally. Leaning forward, she placed her hands carefully on the blotter and met his gaze. “In keeping with my station as the Dowager Duchess of Exmoor, I support a number of prominent charities and societies by serving as a patroness or a trustee. One of these groups is the London Royal Academy of Art, and in less than two weeks, their annual exhibition opens. I recently met with Mr. Erasmus to discuss promoting the exhibition’s opening in the newspaper’s society pages. That’s all. You may not like it, but the Beau Monde Mirror does have a significant readership.”

  Max gave a derisive snort. “Not good enough, Mother. Why couldn’t your personal secretary undertake such a task for you? Have you never heard of writing a letter? I’ve also been informed that Mr. Silver visited Devereux House several weeks ago. Was that to discuss the Royal Academy of Art Exhibition or another matter
entirely?”

  His mother’s eyes glittered. “Are you spying on my movements again, Max? Like I’m some common sneak-thief? How dare you!”

  “And how dare you consort with gutter-dwelling creatures like Erasmus Silver and Lord Rochfort. You’re the Dowager Duchess of Exmoor, for God’s sake. And you accuse my fiancée of having a disreputable reputation.”

  “Your busybody of a fiancée should keep her pesky nose—” She broke off and clamped her lips together.

  “Out of your business? Is that what you were going to say? Did your friend Mr. Silver come by to tell you about a certain conversation he had with Lady Charlotte this afternoon?” Max planted his hands on the blotter and leaned forward. “I thought you barely knew Silver, so why would he do such a thing?”

  “You are making a gross assumption with no evidence to support—”

  “But it’s a logical assumption, no? For some reason I can’t fathom, Erasmus Silver is protecting you. Why else would he refuse to publish a juicy piece of gossip about you? The man thrives on it.”

  “Erasmus Silver is a gentleman.”

  “Good God, now I know you’re lying. Next you’ll be telling me that Lord Rochfort is a gentleman too.” Max straightened. “This is my final warning, Mother dearest. Stay away from Silver. But most of all, stop feeding him damaging gossip about Lady Charlotte. You’ll deny it, of course, but I know it’s you who’s been slandering her.”

  “Slandering?” His mother sniffed. “As if I’d ever engage in such vulgar behavior. Besides, I barely think about the girl.”

  “That young woman is going to be my wife whether you like it or not. And all of London will see that tonight when I waltz around Almack’s Assembly Rooms with her and no one else.” With that, Max turned on his booted heel and headed for the door. “Oh, and by the way, if we ever have to have a conversation like this again, you’ll be packing your trunks and departing for the dower house in Devonshire within the hour.”

  Max didn’t stay to observe his mother’s expression, but he did hear something smash after he shut the door behind him.

  Good.

  At long bloody last, she was taking him seriously.

  Chapter 21

  Do you have your voucher permitting you entry to Almack’s Assembly Rooms?

  We all know how exacting the vaunted Lady Patronesses of Almack’s can be. Read on for essential advice that will not only help you gain access to London’s most exclusive marriage-hunting ground, you’ll learn how to avoid being a wallflower.

  The Beau Monde Mirror: The Essential Style & Etiquette Guide

  Hastings House, Berkeley Square

  Charlie waited in the vestibule of Hastings House, checking her reflection one last time in the gilt-edged mirror. Her eyes glowed and her cheeks were so pink with excitement, she didn’t need to pinch them. But she might need to pinch herself elsewhere to make sure she was awake. She was going to Almack’s! With Max!

  How long had she dreamed of such a thing? If she were perfectly honest with herself, it would have been from the moment she’d met Max when she was only sixteen and he was twenty-two. She could recall the exact moment that long ago summer when Nate had showed his handsome-as-sin university chum into the grand entry hall of Elmstone Hall, their country manor in Gloucestershire. She’d been smitten instantly. With his dark golden hair, sparkling eyes of sapphire blue, and his square-jawed beauty, Maximilian Devereux was the epitome of the hero she’d always pictured in her fantasies.

  Indeed, tonight she at long last felt like a princess in a fairy tale waiting for the arrival of her very own prince charming. She’d certainly dressed for the occasion. With her curls piled high on her head, pearls at her throat, ears, and threaded through her hair, and a ballgown of soft shell-pink silk falling in graceful folds about her figure, she was certain the patronesses of London’s most exclusive venue would not take issue with her appearance and refuse her entry. And of course, she’d be on the arm of a powerful duke.

  Molly waited nearby with her gloves, fan, and matching reticule. “You look as fine as can be, my lady,” she sighed as she handed Charlie her gloves. “I’d be happy to accompany you in the carriage.”

  “No, you have the night off. You deserve it,” said Charlie as she tugged on her white satin gloves. No doubt Molly wished to gawk at all the other fine ladies as they arrived at the assembly rooms, but she didn’t want her maid shadowing her tonight. Max was sending one of his carriages around, and she was certain he’d ask Diana to accompany them for the sake of appearances. He wouldn’t ask his mother. Not after the goings-on at Gunter’s.

  As for her father, he was, as usual, elsewhere. In fact, Charlie had barely seen him of late, but she didn’t mind because he seemed so content and happy. The mantle of sadness he’d worn for so long was gone. If he wasn’t at one of his clubs, he was usually out and about with Lady Tilbury. Charlie strongly suspected it was only a matter of time before he announced that he’d proposed to the lovely widow. It was a day she looked forward to.

  Charlie had just finished fastening the pearl buttons at the tops of her gloves when there was a knock at the front door. The footman opened it to reveal her fiancé in all of his evening finery. But nothing was as fine as the smile that broke across his face as his warm gaze wandered over her with frank appreciation.

  “Lady Charlotte, I’ve never seen you looking so beautiful,” he said in such a smooth dark voice, Charlie’s toes curled in her pink satin slippers.

  “Why, thank you, Your Grace. And I could say the same about you,” she returned. “I mean, you look very handsome.”

  He bowed and offered his arm. “Your chariot awaits, my lady,” he said. “Let us away to Almack’s, where we’ll dazzle the ton with our waltzing.”

  Charlie tucked her gloved hand into the crook of Max’s elbow. “I can hardly wait.”

  As Max handed her into his carriage, Charlie was astonished to discover that she was the cab’s only occupant. “I thought Diana would be joining us,” she said when Max climbed in and took the seat beside her.

  “I’m afraid I want you all to myself,” Max said with a rakish grin as the door shut and the carriage moved off. “Do you mind terribly? We are engaged, and so I thought that might give us a little bit of leeway when it comes to observing or not observing the rules, as the case may be.”

  “Ordinarily I would agree with you, but we are going to Almack’s. People are bound to talk if we arrive together in a closed carriage without a chaperone.”

  “They will regardless, Charlie.”

  “True,” she said with a sigh.

  “However, if you would prefer it, would you like to bring someone along? I saw your maid hovering about the vestibule. One word from you, and I’ll stop the carriage. We could even travel separately. I can hail a hackney coach easily enough.”

  “Now that would be beyond silly,” said Charlie. “No, you’re right. Let the ton talk if they want to. Besides, it’s a short drive, so even if Nate hears about our unchaperoned journey, he can hardly complain. It’s not as though we can get up to too much mischief in the space of ten minutes.”

  “Speak for yourself,” said Max with a devilish smile. He rested his large hand on her knee.

  Charlie rapped him lightly on the knuckles with her closed fan. “You must promise to behave, Your Grace. I won’t have you rumpling my gown or messing up my hair before we arrive.”

  He laughed. “I promise,” he said. “But your decree also begs the question: can I rumple your gown and mess up your hair afterward?”

  Charlie’s pulse raced faster than a Scotch reel. Did Max really mean that? Judging by the wicked gleam in his eyes, she suspected he might. “Perhaps,” she said with an arch smile. “If you sweep me off my feet tonight, who knows what might happen after the assembly.”

  In the shadowy cabin, Max’s heated gaze captured hers. “Well, now I’m the one who can hardly wait,” he murmured, and Charlie swore she blushed all over.

  It didn’t ta
ke long for them to reach King Street, where Almack’s was located. However, the thoroughfare was completely congested with traffic; Max’s carriage began to crawl toward their destination at a frustratingly slow snail’s pace.

  “I’m quite happy to walk the remaining distance,” said Charlie. “It’s not far.”

  “No, you shall arrive in style.” Max’s voice was firm. “I want everyone to know that you’re arriving with me, the Duke of Exmoor, and as my fiancée, you are not to be trifled with.”

  “Hmm.” Charlie looked out of the carriage window. She could see the gas lamps illuminating the rather plain façade of the much-vaunted assembly rooms. A small crowd of elegantly dressed attendees was milling out the front, waiting to be admitted. It wouldn’t do at all to arrive late. Indeed, the patronesses had been known to turn guests away for breaching their strict rules.

  And that was when Charlie was struck by the most novel thought. It was as though someone had just lit all the gas lamps in her own mind, bringing blazing clarity into her world.

  Her heart hammering, she turned to the man beside her, the duke of her dreams. “Max…” She bit her lip, suddenly beset with nerves.

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It’s all right, we won’t be late.”

  “No, that’s not…” She swallowed. “I…” She inhaled a bracing breath. “I don’t want to go. I’ve suddenly realized something about myself. This girlish dream of mine—to waltz at Almack’s—it’s not actually about the dancing at all. It’s really about my need—and I suspect the need of most young women—to be accepted by the doyens of Society. To gain their hard-to-win approval. But now, as I sit here with you, I’ve decided I don’t give a fat flying fig about the patronesses of Almack’s or what they think of me. I don’t want to adhere to their ridiculously strict rules or narrow views of what constitutes acceptable behavior. They don’t matter to me. At least, not anymore. Of course”—she cast him a smile—“waltzing about the assembly rooms in your arms would be lovely. But that’s only because I’d be sharing the experience with you. You, Maximilian Devereux, it’s your opinion of me that matters. And that of my own friends and family. All the rest is just…mindless noise. It means nothing.”