The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride (8 page)

Wilson came up to her dressing room to inform her that Mr. Warren was waiting for her in the drawing room. He’d come and gone while she was out and Wilson had told her that he’d conducted an inventory of the household items in her absence. She hadn’t expected Mr. Warren to come back.

Rouging her cheeks at her vanity—she’d give Warren no reason to think she had been ill—she left her room ready to face her current enemy.

“Darling,” she said, her voice animated as she brushed into the room with the grace of a dancer and took Mr. Warren’s hand. He bowed cordially if a little stiffly.

He was tall, hovering just over six feet. He was lean but fit, someone who spent time in an active life. Perhaps she’d find him handsome with his dark hair and sharp eyes if he weren’t usurping her from the life she’d grown used to.

“Good afternoon, Countess. I thought we had an understanding on the hour we would meet?”

Had he come back to chastise her?

She slipped her hand from his and tilted her chin up. “You stated the time you would arrive, inviting yourself into my home without my say-so.”

Warren narrowed his gaze on her.

She sat on the sofa, falling back elegantly on the cushions as she invited him to sit. “I
did
leave you a note that I was previously engaged.”

“Sending word of your intent to walk with the Duke of Alsborough would not have been a hardship. I shouldn’t have to find out you aren’t in residence once I’ve already arrived.”

Her husband had expected her to wait in the wings for his every bidding. It seemed that was what Warren wanted, too. She would not make taking the Fallon seat convenient for him. He was, after all, forcing her from her home.

“Have you concluded your business here? I really do have some things to attend to.”

“Don’t brush me off like one of the bloody sots that follow at your heels.”

She stood and stepped close to him. No one had the authority to diminish the position of her dearest friends. “If I had such a power as that, I would not have begged to stay in the dowager house.”

And she would never forgive herself for doing so. She’d humiliated herself deliberately, to a man she loathed. And it had all been for nothing. Never again would she stoop so low as that. Never again.

“You know this is how it has to be.”

She looked away, tears threatening her stance in this argument. She refused to cry, because it would only give him more power over her. “And your reasoning is pathetic. I’m glad I never worried so much about what others thought of me throughout my life.”

“Your husband is no longer here to protect your standing,” he reminded her, though she needed no reminder. “You might find yourself in a position not entirely to your liking if you continue being so narrow-minded.”

He wasn’t worth the energy that it took to fight, so she glared at him, hoping he felt a modicum of her hatred and disgust toward him. “At least I can say I have lived life. You, Mr. Warren, live life worried about the regard or contempt someone might hold over your actions. That is not the kind of life I would ever envy.”

Warren tapped his long, manicured fingers along the sideboard. It seemed her words had finally gotten under his skin, for he was silent for a whole two minutes. That silence was too short-lived for her liking, however.

“Yet, your actions and refusal to live by the rules of society have made you a pariah. I prefer my standing to yours.”

He came toward her suddenly, his intent dark and dangerous, though she was not threatened by him; there were so many things worse than him in life and she knew instinctually that he would not raise his hand against a lady.

“You’ve made yourself an outsider,” he said. “An outlander in the society you profess to care for so deeply. That you would beg for salvation from me…”

He grasped her wrist tightly in his hand. She didn’t flinch; the violence her husband had shown raging at the surface of his control so often was not present in the man before her. Mr. Warren wanted nothing more than to frighten her. Of course, she would never give him that satisfaction.

“And you’ll never amount to anything but the weasel you are.”

She wrenched her hand away from his and stepped so close to him that he was forced to take a step back. The look in his eyes said he was surprised by the boldness of her action. This would not be the first time a man had judged her wrong.

“Never lay your hands upon me again.”

He turned away and strode toward the door. “Don’t forget who holds all the cards in this little game, Jessica.”

“I’m not likely to lose a battle with you.” She tilted her chin up, refusing to cower, even knowing that he could throw her out of her own home today if he so wished it.

Instead of a retort, he gave her a heartless laugh as he picked up his hat from the sideboard. He turned and tipped it in her direction with a sardonic grimace.

“This is still my house and it’s ruled by my sole guidance,” she said. “I suggest you find the door without delay before I find someone more than happy to assist in your removal.”

She stepped toward him, a fury of rage so strong within her that she wanted to lash out as her husband had done far too often with her—Warren standing his ground only infuriated her further. She would never stoop so low as to strike at someone, even someone as deserving as Mr. Warren.

“Your friends cannot assist you as well as mine in our games with society. Ruin me, Warren, and I’ll ensure you never so much as marry and propagate, at least not someone worthy of the
ton
.”

“You dare threaten me?” He seemed more amused than angry. “I always did enjoy a good challenge. Consider your time in this house shortened. I want you out by the end of August. I want you well and gone before the little season starts.”

“The law is on my side in this instance. I have one year.”

His smile sickened her. Then he dared to further challenge her by grasping her arm.

“No, by my discretion and good grace you
had
one year.”

“Do your worst,” she challenged, yanking out of his hold.

His voice was low, dangerous even. “There will come a time in your lonely life that you will need me.”

“Not in this lifetime.”

“So be it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He opened the door to leave. “I guess this is adieu … until the morrow. I wish to review the ledgers in your care for the household items. I’ll need to make offers to the staff and put in some of my own trusted servants.”

Her heart fell. She wished it were within her power to take the current staff with her, but that would be impossible considering the size of house she was destined for with her meager annual income. “Are you asking my permission? A lack of it hasn’t stopped you from snooping around my home already.”

“It’s just a courtesy.” And with that he left.

Jessica leaned her head back against the paneled door and looked heavenward. She needed to pull herself together, find another husband, one either young and rich—far too hard to come by for her liking—or too old to so much as get out of a chair.

Hayden would be disappointed with her for upsetting Warren enough that he’d shortened the period of time she had in her home. Perhaps she should write an apologetic letter to Warren? He might let her at least stay the remainder of the year if she showed an ounce of contrition. Surely he had enough kindness in him that he wouldn’t toss her into the street with no place to go. Damn her quick temper. She’d make do; she always had even in the worst of circumstances.

*   *   *

Tonight would be her first foray into society since the night of the funeral. The invitation had been addressed to her husband and received well before his death. She’d found it in his personal effects and it was too delicious an event to consider ignoring.

She pinched her eyes shut.

It was about time she was more adventurous with her life.

Tomorrow she’d tell Hayden about the outcome of her conversation with Warren. Tonight she’d live wildly and enjoy herself to the fullest.

She opened the parlor door and called for Wilson. “Could you please send up Louise? I need her assistance if I’m to attend a ball tonight.”

Wilson gave nothing away in his expression, but she knew she’d surprised him. “Of course, my lady. I’ll send Claudia up to prepare your clothes as well.”

“Thank you, Wilson. I’ll need a hired carriage for nine.”

“Consider it done, my lady.”

Jessica flicked through the letters stacked neatly on the tall marble-topped table in the foyer and found the invite for the masked ball that she’d tossed there. What would Hayden think if he knew where she planned to take him tonight? Would he convince her to go elsewhere? All the more reason not to tell him. He’d figure out where they were once they arrived.

She smiled to herself as she made her way up to her room. She had time enough for a nap before she readied.

“Louise,” she said as her maid came into the room, a curious look on the young woman’s face.”I’ll be attending a masquerade tonight.”

Louise’s eyes went wide and her smile beamed so much that her dimples dotted her cheeks. “This is wonderful news, my lady. Which mask shall I unpack?”

“The gold Venetian half mask for me. I will need you and Claudia to pull the men’s masks from the attic—some clothes, too, that might fit the duke, since he is in for a surprise when I tell him where we are going tonight.”

Louise clapped her hands together excitedly. “We’ve plenty of time to ready you both.”

“Yes. Have Claudia see what she can dig out for me. I’m thinking eighteenth century.” Jessica lifted a lock of hair, twisting it around her finger. The red was character defining. “We’ll have to powder my hair so I’m not recognizable.”

While her maid went off to see to her instructions, Jessica sat at her writing desk. Hayden would have to arrive earlier than she had originally planned if he was to dress here. She felt an excitement bloom deep in her belly as she planned out her evening. It had been so long since she’d been excited to do anything.

Perhaps this was her first step to building a better life for herself. The past would need to stay right where it was; she hoped her secrets stayed buried, too.

She finished her note to Hayden and stuffed it into an ivory-colored envelope. Sometime during her walk with Hayden she’d decided that life was too short not to fully experience all it had to offer. She could make better memories. And who better to create them with than Hayden?

*   *   *

The note Hayden had received was rather curious. He patted his hand over his breast pocket where the parchment was neatly tucked away. It was a marvel that he’d so easily drawn Jez out tonight. Before his hand could reach for the brass knocker, Wilson opened the front door, stepping aside to let Hayden inside.

“Good evening, Wilson. I gather Your Ladyship wants me to wait in the parlor?” He handed the man his cane and hat, which were stowed next to the entrance.

“Not tonight, Your Grace. Lady Fallon has asked that you attend to her in her boudoir.”

Hayden barely managed to keep the shock from showing at the request. It had been months since she’d asked anyone into her boudoir. What did she have planned tonight? Certainly it was more elaborate than he originally expected. Was he wrong to assume that a gaming hell and a crashed ball would be enough to amuse his friend?

“Right, good man. I remember the way, so you needn’t escort me.”

Wilson bowed as Hayden turned toward the stairs. Jez was in a far better mood than he could have guessed. It shouldn’t have surprised him after their afternoon walk. Seeing her at the vanity, both her maids readying her for the evening and working on an elaborately powdered style to her hair, was like old times.

Minus the husband.

“I feel underdressed.” Hayden motioned toward his clothes, indicating his tails and simpler attire.

She stood from her stool and came toward him. Though he was used to seeing her in a state of dishabille, her corset was nearly indecent the way it cinched in her waist and emphasized the delectable flare of her hips and bosom. Layers of lace covered her beneath and over the corset. The cut was low and pushed her breasts up so high he swore he could see the edges of her areolas.

He swallowed back the rising discomfort that was closing up his throat. Perhaps “discomfort” was the wrong word; what he had was a desire to tear her clothes off and do very wicked things to her. Scandalous things he’d never consider doing with another.

For probably the first time ever, he was struck speechless in her presence. The things he’d give to keep her here tonight. He didn’t want any other man seeing what he saw; he didn’t want any other man fawning over her.

And tonight he planned on showing her exactly how he felt about her. She’d not brush off his offer of marriage a second time.

“Darling, I’m so happy you arrived early.” She took his hands in hers. “I wanted to surprise you, so I had the maids look through the trunks in the attic to see if we could sport matching costumes.”

She motioned toward her bed where a hunter-green silk dress was spread out and a black-and-gold cloak with a harlequin laid out beside it.

“Why didn’t you tell me we were to attend a masked ball?” He searched her eyes, wondering what mischief she was up to.