The Lady and the Duke (7 page)

"I don't understand. I thought you wanted to be with me." He dropped her hands and she smothered the urge to protest. "Was I wrong?"

"No. No, you were not, and yet..." At his obvious confusion, she shook her head in despair. How could she explain it to him, when she wasn't sure of herself? What a muddle.

"I like you very much, Will. You are intelligent and interesting, and diverting and handsome and wonderful, but—"

"It’s not me, it’s you?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, no. It’s you." He looked affronted at her statement and she rushed to explain. "I mean, it’s your title. The dukedom."

"That’s the first time I’ve ever heard of my being a duke actually being seen as a drawback."

"I’m not explaining it well." She sighed. Will’s expression had stiffened and he paced away, just beyond her grasp. Audrey knew she shouldn’t feel hurt by his defensive gesture, but she did. Couldn’t he understand this was difficult for her?

Audrey lifted her chin a little, embarrassed at having to put her insecurities on display, and met his gaze. "I'm too tall. I'm not graceful in the least. I trip over my own feet with alarming regularity. I have a devil of a temper."

Will opened his mouth, but she ignored him and pushed on, waving her hands as she spoke to illustrate her point. "I don't enjoy mindlessly chattering on about fashion or wondering what Prinny will get up to next. I’m too sarcastic by half and I don't enjoy Town."

Will was studying her with an unreadable expression that made her chest tight. "I like that you’re tall, Audrey. I’m tall, or haven’t you noticed?"

"Yes, but—"

"You are not
un
graceful. It's only when you're distracted that your feet seem to...get ahead of you a bit." He stepped closer, dark eyes caressing her. "I don’t mind a bit of shouting now and then. It keeps things lively. I couldn’t care less about fashion, and believe it or not, even less than that about Prinny and his escapades. I will say this—a woman with a quick wit, and a quicker tongue, fascinates me."

Audrey felt her cheeks heat at his sly statement, and despite the situation, she wanted to laugh. It was a wonder that he could always keep her so off balance.

"You, sir, have a dirty mind."

"Yes, I do."

Now she did laugh, startled by the boyish grin he sent her. His eyes crinkled at the edges and he took those few steps back to her.

"I like you just the way you are, Audrey. I am not asking you to change. I don’t
want
you to change." His arm slipped round her waist, and the heat of his body infused her, chasing the chill of uncertainty away. "Do you think you might be able to place your trust in me? Because I think we could be very—"

He lowered his head and nipped her lip. "—very good together."

She couldn’t think when his mouth was on hers.

"Mmm."

He drew back slightly. "Is that a yes? Will you at least consider giving us a chance, then?"

Faith sometimes required a leap. What Will represented frightened her, the way he lived, what being his duchess would entail. But the idea of a life bereft of him left an empty ache in her chest.

"Yes."

"Yes, you will consider it?"

"Yes, I promise to think on it." Audrey smiled at him, unable to do otherwise. She owed it to herself, and to him, to reconsider her plans. If she had a chance at love, she would be a fool to walk away from it.

Blowing out a breath, Will grinned at her. "Then I shall see you tonight, at the masquerade.

Chapter Eight

Will stepped out of Claremont House and paused to regroup.

He just stood for a moment on the top step, trying to absorb the fact that he had almost blurted out a marriage proposal to Audrey as if he were offering take her for a carriage drive. While he may not have had legions of lovers, he had hoped that he was experienced enough to be smoother than
that
.

 Apparently not.

No wonder she needed time to consider his suit. When it came time to formally propose, he would do better. Wincing, Will rubbed the back of his neck as he descended the steps to his curricle. He resolutely turned his mind from Audrey to consider a more immediate problem as he climbed into the vehicle.

He had waited an hour and a quarter at the east entrance to Hyde Park that morning, but Claremont had not shown.

Will cursed himself for imagining that the viscount would be man enough to stick to his word. But what did Claremont hope to achieve by holding onto the letters now? He would never get any money for them, and couldn’t show his face in polite society while Will was still hunting him. Will had come to the dowager countess’s home, thinking perhaps the man was stupid enough, or arrogant enough, to show at his mother’s garden party.

Claremont had not shown, but Audrey was there, and Will had allowed himself to become distracted. Although he hadn't acquired the letters, he couldn't count the afternoon as wasted time. Not when he had secured Audrey's word that she would consider his courtship.

It did puzzle Will that the viscount should resort to blackmail in the first place, though. Claremont House was in fine shape. The furnishings of high quality and everything looking exactly as it should in the home of a wealthy English aristocrat. It made no sense that he should chose to blackmail
Lisle
, whose yearly allowance was generous, but not outrageous. What the viscount could have milked from her should be a pittance compared to his own income.

And his sister was not the type to do anything that was blackmail worthy. Other than having exceptionally bad taste in lovers, that is.

It was more likely that Lisle had been the one to break things off with Claremont, who obviously had not taken it well. His attempt to squeeze her for funds must be in revenge for his bruised pride. Still, Will couldn’t shake the niggling though that he had been misled. Lisle's story had always seemed a little shaky, but he had assumed that she just didn't want to share any delicate details with her younger brother. But the effort Claremont was putting into ducking him had all his instincts pricking. There was more to this mess then a parcel of lovelorn missives.

Whatever the case, Will wanted those letters back.

If Lisle's story
was
true, well, she shouldn’t have to worry about her private affairs being aired to the whole of society, and Will shouldn’t have to worry about what such a scandal would do to his mother…and his marital prospects. When he had come up to Town, he had had no intentions of looking for a bride but then he met Audrey. Everything had changed. He still wasn’t interested in marriage for marriage’s sake—but the prospect of settling down was infinitely more appealing when he thought of a certain cheeky debutante.

Will was a little stunned at how quickly she became the only one he could see filling the role of his duchess.

It was a sticky situation, however. He had no intention of sending Lisle from the family home or doing anything to distance himself from his beloved sister. If there was a scandal it would touch everyone connected to Halford House. For some families, even the lure of marrying their daughter to a duke would not offset the humiliation and censure they would be forced to endure if their name was linked to such a predicament.

He did not think Lord and Lady Witte were such a couple, given the lengths the baroness had gone through to secure his interest in her daughter, but one could never be too cautious.

Still turning over the problem in his mind, Will drew up to Halford House and tossed the reins to the footman who stepped to the curb. He trotted up the stairs, nodding to his butler as he entered. Handing the man his hat, Will ran his hand through his hair, grimacing at how sweat had matted it to his skull.

"It’s brutal out there, McCullen. This heat’s damn irritating, makes the dirt from the road stick to everything," he said, patting his face with the cloth the butler handed him.

The toweling was grey with dust from the street, and soot from the air, when he finished but there was no time for a full bath at the moment. He had correspondence to catch up on and his estate manager would have arrived by now. The man had travelled far with the reports from four out of seven of his holdings, all which would require his attention before he could bathe for dinner. He started for the stairs, but paused as McCullen discreetly cleared his throat.

Will glanced over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow in inquiry. "Is there something?"

"Yes, Your Grace. Lady Morgan is here. She is waiting for you in the blue drawing room," the butler said, tipping his head slightly toward the south corridor.

"My sister is here? In London?" Will frowned, rubbing his hand over his jaw absently. He needed a shave before he left for the evening.

 "So it seems, Your Grace."

What the devil? Perhaps she felt her scolding letter hadn’t done a well enough job and had come to finish her tongue lashing in person. That would be pleasant.

"When did she get here?"

"Late morning, Your Grace, not long after your departure for your club."

Lisle must have left directly after sending her letter to have gotten here so quickly. The urgency in which she was treating this attempt to dissuade him from involving himself in her problem with Claremont was revealing.

She was most definitely hiding something.

Unfortunately for her, it just hardened his resolve to find out what.

Striding down the hall, Will pushed open the door to the salon. Lisle had been standing with her back to him, staring out the window, but at his entrance she turned. For a moment, Will was stunned at the change that had come over his always strong and capable sister in the few weeks since he had last seen her.

Her once shining blond hair was dulled and lusterless, tucked into a simple knot at the base of her neck. She gazed at him with eyes so sad, and for just a moment, fearful. Not of him he was sure, but of something.

This was not simple matter of blackmail. Widows in the
ton
took lovers all the time. Yes, to flaunt it would be considered scandalous and common for a duke’s sister, but it was nothing she could not endure and come through. Knowing her as he did, Will knew the worst of it would be causing her family humiliation, and injuring his marital chances.

The silence between them stretched as his gaze travelled down, taking in the gown that hung loosely on her frame, further evidence that there was more to this mess than he had been informed. Staring at his sister, Will wished he was back in that alley with Claremont. This time he wouldn’t have left him alone until the man had taken him to wherever it was he was keeping those letters and handed them over, ensuring Lisle would have some measure of peace. It was obvious the entire affair was making her ill.

He made a vow to himself at that moment. After retrieving the letters, he was going to beat Claremont within an inch of his life. Violence bubbled within him at his sister’s fragile appearance.

"What are you doing here?" Will crossed the room and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face to the light, revealing purple circles under her eyes. She clearly wasn’t sleeping well either.

She jerked away and glared at him, the despair in her green eyes clearing with a spark of anger. "I am here to remind my little brother that I am a grown woman and that my business is
my
business. If I hadn’t had a third glass of wine that night, I never would have told you any of this."

Her flat rejection poked at him, but he pushed it back. No time for wounded feelings. He was going to fix this mess of hers whether she liked it or not.

"I do not require your assistance, Will."

Her tone might have sounded confident to one who didn’t know her, but he could hear the slight tremor in it that gave her away. It only solidified his commitment to seeing this whole mess resolved.

"That’s too bad, because I am already giving it."

Will strolled to the sideboard. His throat was dry from the dust of the road, and the fragility of his sister’s thin frame. "And it’s a little too late for me to ignore the situation."

He poured a glass of brandy and sipped, looking at her over it.

"What have you done?" Lisle braced herself with one hand on the back of the sofa. "I told you I had it under control!"

"Yes, if control means paying the bastard off. That’s not going to happen, Lissy," He slammed his glass down on the sideboard. "We’ve…spoken. He understands that he will be handing over those letters, without any payment rendered. You don’t need to be involved anymore."

"My God. You’ll only make it worse," she moaned, coming around the sofa and sinking down onto one of the cushions, burying her face in her hands. Will crossed to her. Crouching down, he tugged her hands away with concern. Her reactions were damning. This was not the behavior of a woman whose affair had gone sour. He was worried now, worried that even his influence may not be enough to slip her out of whatever she had fallen into.

"Lissy, what is really going on?" She shook her head, and he drew in a deep breath. He couldn’t fix things if she wouldn’t confide in him, but losing his temper would accomplish nothing. "I cannot help unless I know just what I am dealing with."

"I told you, I don’t want your help,’ she said dully, pulling her hands out of his. She pushed him away, moving back as she stood. "Please, Will.
Just leave it alone
."

Moving like a woman forty years her senior, her steps measured and hopeless, his sister left the room. As he watched her go, Will clenched his fists at his side and smothered the urge to pound the wall in his frustration. She wouldn’t tell him what was really going on, and he was more determined than ever to get those letters back.

Lord and Lady Bentham’s masked ball was this evening, and the guests were required to go in fancy dress. There was a good chance the viscount would make an appearance, given the anonymity afforded by a costume. Will intended to show him just how wrong he was to expect security in a crowd.

And if the man didn't show, surely some of his friends would. Will could at least have the satisfaction of wringing the viscount's location out of one of them.