Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3 (6 page)

“Then please allow me to see the extent of your injury.”

Hope cautiously lifted her gown high enough to expose her foot and ankle as the duke knelt at her feet.

She muffled a gasp as his gloved fingers took a gentle hold of her ankle and his dark head bent over her foot. Her skin tingled where he touched her. The only man who had ever paid attention to her ankle was the groom who’d taught her to ride. The duke removed her slipper, revealing an obvious swelling beneath her damaged stocking.

“You’ll have a nasty bruise, but I don’t think you’ve broken a bone,” he said, lifting his head and pinning her with his deep, soulful dark brown eyes.

She sucked in a breath and fought to compose herself. He didn’t look beguiled. In fact, he sounded like their doctor. She’d thought him quite sociable when they’d last danced, but tonight, there was more distance between them despite his proximity. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. She supposed she didn’t present well from this angle. She now had a big hole in her soiled stocking. “I was to ride in Hyde Park on Sunday. I suppose I shan’t be able to, now,” she said. “And I was looking forward to it.” She closed her mouth firmly, aware she was rambling.

“I doubt this injury will prevent you. You like to ride?”

“I do. Riding gives one a wonderful sense of freedom.”

“Well put.”

“Although Rotten Row is a little restricting. One cannot gallop there. My father disapproves of women galloping. He says sidesaddles are dangerous.” She pressed her lips together.

“They have been proved so.”

“I would love to ride astride, like men. I don’t see why women cannot.”
Rambling and opinionated.
She was so nervous she seemed unable to stop.

“In the future perhaps, when you marry.” He straightened, but having him stand so close didn’t improve her breathing.

“A husband would permit it?”

“I don’t see why not in the privacy of his estate.”

“Then you agree?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “You would allow your wife to ride astride, I mean.”

He paused to consider it. “It would be entirely my wife’s decision.” His smile softened the firm set of his jaw and turned his eyes to brown satin. “But I imagine you could persuade your husband without a great deal of difficulty, Lady Hope.”

It wasn’t a criticism, for his tone was warm. He might even like her a little. In fact, his gaze was a soft caress, and oddly, it seemed to bring him closer, although he hadn’t moved an inch. A lurch of excitement shocked her and brought her back to the present. They were at a rout, surrounded by the beau monde. Her dress was rucked up, and he was holding her shoe!

“We’d best replace your shoe before your foot swells.” The duke dropped down again and returned to his task.

He was holding her ankle in his long fingers while slipping on her shoe when her father stormed out of the door with her mother following on his heels.

For a moment, Hope held her breath as her father surveyed the scene. Thankfully, he did not rush to judgment. But neither was he pleased. His brows snapped together. “Thank you for rescuing my daughter from that infuriating melee, Your Grace.” He strode over to Hope. “We feared you’d been trampled underfoot, my dear.” He eyed her foot. “It seems you have.”

Fortunately, she and the duke were not alone, for several guests had emerged from the gardens and approached the terrace steps.

Having replaced her shoe, the duke straightened. “Your daughter has suffered a slight injury.”

“I’m grateful for your assistance,” Father said, his tone brisk. He whipped the duke’s coat from Hope’s shoulders and held it out to him. “Most grateful.”

The duke shrugged into his coat. “Lady Hope finds it painful to walk.”

“Come, Hope.” Her father took hold of her arm and led her across the terrace.

A sharp pain shot through her instep, and she staggered. “I can’t walk, Father.”

“Dashed infernal entertainments
, so called
,” her father muttered. “How on earth are we going to get through that crowd?” He swung Hope up into his arms.

Hope held on to her father’s shoulder and peered around at the duke, who nodded to her as she was carried inside. “Thank you,” Hope mouthed.

Her father blustered his way through the throng, which was thankfully dispersing, her mother behind them. Reaching the front porch, he set Hope on her feet. “Never ask me to attend another of these ridiculous routs again,” he said to her mother through clenched teeth. “I’d rather brave Billingsgate fish wharf.”

“Are you overset my dear?” her mother asked. “He actually had his hand on your ankle! The French do not have the same sense of proprieties that we English do.”

“He wore gloves, Mama.”

“Nevertheless. He might have seen more than was fitting.”

“He did see my foot and my ankle. I believe he will recover from the experience.”

“Don’t be impertinent,” her father said. “Your mother is quite correct.”

At least her parents were now in agreement.

As they were led to their vehicle, the duke strolled onto the porch. Footmen stood to attention while others scurried for the carriage. His fingers on her ankle had been gentle and impersonal, and he’d showed no sign that he found her irresistible. Why would he? It had been kind of him to bother with her. He was a puzzle, however, welcomed with respect in English ballrooms and sought by those in high office, but at the same time, there seemed a wall between him and the rest of the world.

****

Daniel thought of Lady Hope as he guided his hack along the path in Hyde Park toward the Serpentine. She had a disturbing effect on him. Kneeling at her feet, he’d found it difficult to remain at a distance, when what he really wanted was to crush her within his embrace and kiss her, and assuage the hunger which suddenly had him in its grip. Unsettled and annoyed with himself, he gave up on the rout, which was a ridiculous affair, and spent the rest of the evening at White’s. While there, he’d sought recommendations for a mistress, and his friends, encouraged by his interest, had suggested visiting a well-run brothel. He hadn’t succumbed to the temptation, but saw them on their way and returned home.

He rode across the meadow. This didn’t come close to the pleasure of riding Tonnerre over his estate lands but would have to do until he could return home. News had come from France. With treatment, the horse continued to fare well, although Anton couldn’t promise the gelding would survive. He was employing a water treatment to strengthen Tonnerre’s injured leg.

A breeze whistled through the bare branches and stirred the leaves of the evergreens. It was too early for the
ton
to make an appearance. Many favored the afternoon, rising from their beds when half the day was over, a habit he didn’t adopt.

Miles Cosgrove appeared at Daniel’s left, riding through the trees on a roan. He brought his horse alongside Daniel’s mount. “Bit chilly, Your Grace. The sun is barely over the yardarm.”

“Good for the constitution,” Daniel said. “What news?”

“Little has changed. Britain does not wish to fight for Spain, and Canning intends to keep France guessing as to his government’s intentions, for as long as possible.”

“Then I shall leave matters to the French ambassador and return to France.” Daniel felt a swift rush of regret.

“Hold fire. Canning will wish to see you again.”

Daniel nodded, wondering how long it would be before he was told what was expected of him. “I fancy a gallop, shall we?”

Miles nodded, his eyes holding a hint of sympathy. “I daresay you are eager to return to France to oversee the restoration.”

“The rebuilding continues, with or without me,” Daniel said, releasing the reins.

They galloped across the grass, with no one around to object. It was past midday when they walked their horses back toward the park gates. Miles invited him to partake of luncheon with him at his favorite hotel.

Daniel declined, suggesting they dine together soon. The hotel food would likely be horrid English fare washed down with ale, and he had some other business to attend to before he left Hyde Park. He turned his horse to ride down Rotten Row. There were more riders about, and some early enthusiasts traveling in their vehicles along the South Carriage Drive.

He found her conversing with two other ladies as they walked their hacks. Hope, in a voluminous dark-blue riding habit, a wisp of white veil tailing from her high-crowned hat, turned his way. Seeing him, she smiled.

Daniel would long remember the warmth of her smile when he returned to France. He pulled his mount in beside hers and touched his hat with his crop. “Good afternoon, Lady Hope, ladies.”

“Good afternoon, Your Grace. Allow me to introduce my friends to you.”

Both ladies greeted him with broad smiles then excused themselves and rode on.

“I wondered how your unfortunate injury fared. But I see you are restored to health,” he said.

“Just a small bruise. I must thank you for your assistance.”

He raised a brow, recalling her father’s thunderous expression. “I wasn’t required to do much. Your father had the situation well in hand.”

Hope grinned. “Or one might say well in foot.”

Daniel laughed. “I’m relieved that you haven’t suffered permanent injury. I believe you will be pleased to hear that I’ve received news from France. My horse fares better.”

“Oh, does he? I am glad to hear it. I just knew it would be so.”

He smiled at her optimism. “Did you?”

“I could not conceive of another outcome. It was too sad to contemplate.”

He would have liked to remain, to spend more time with her, but her friends waited farther down the Row. And really, what was the point? “I shall take my leave. I’m not sure why the
ton
persists with those foolish routs.”

“You share my father’s view, Your Grace.”

“It seems I do.” Daniel bowed in the saddle. “Enjoy your ride.”

“Thank you.” Hope turned her horse to join her friends.

Daniel rode back toward the stables. Lady Hope’s optimism was infectious. But she was an innocent without any idea of how cruel life could be. She would make a very good match, at least on paper, of that he had no doubt. He’d enjoyed coming to her aid, though she was hardly in mortal danger. He fully understood why he did; it was due to his own sense of failure, which seemed now to be engraved deep in his psyche. He could only pray that the man Hope married was capable of a deep, abiding love, for that was what she deserved. Daniel held little faith that Winslow was that man.

As he left the park and walked home, he managed to dismiss Lady Hope from his mind and turn his attention to his newly acquired half-sister. He hoped Sophie would allow him to finance her. When she returned to London from York in response to his letter, the matter must be settled between them. He wanted no further regrets to follow him back to France.

****

Hope groaned under her breath as she rode to where her companions, Miss Amanda Higgins and Lady Susan, waited for her. Their faces revealed what they’d been discussing and verged on the hopeful. They expected her to entertain them, tell them all about her conversation with the duke. What could she say? Had she made a fool of herself, saying that about her foot? He’d laughed, but he must have thought her an idiot. She’d needed to say something droll, to counteract what she thought was tender concern in his dark gaze. How silly to imagine he felt any such thing when he’d not so much as flirted with her. While other men said her eyes were like stars and her hair like gold, no such flattery had occurred to him. She frowned.

Let that be the end to it. No doubt, he considered her too silly to bother with. She tightened the reins in her gloved fingers and sighed. Nothing in life had quite prepared her for the Duc du Ténèbres. He exhibited excellent manners, but something smoldered beneath the surface, like glowing embers about to erupt into flames. Her foolish body reacted, and her brain went to mush. She had to admit she wanted to impress him, to see warm approval in his eyes when he looked at her, although why she did, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Well?” Lady Susan asked, tilting her head with a crafty smile. “Have you stolen the handsome duke’s heart?”

“No. He’s not smitten with me, I assure you,” Hope said. “He just came to my rescue the other evening, as I told you.”

“What a pity.” Miss Higgins’ eager smile faded. “He is very handsome, and a duke. He can whisk me off to France any time he chooses.”

“But here comes an English duke,” Lady Susan said in a breathy tone.

They turned as the Duke of Winslow rode toward them atop a chestnut with two members of his entourage riding abreast. The two men dropped back as the duke joined them. He bowed in the saddle with his careful smile. “Lady Hope, it’s good to see you braving the cool weather for some exercise.”

After Hope introduced them, Lady Susan edged her horse closer to his. “We are very keen on exercise, Your Grace.” She patted her cheek. “It’s wonderful for the complexion.”

If Lady Susan hoped Winslow might take note of her perfect skin, she was disappointed, for another rider had joined them.

Pamela, in a stylish green habit, reined in beside them, her groom a respectful distance behind. “How very pleasant to find friends,” she said, pointedly looking past Hope to smile at Winslow.