The Wild Duchess/The Willful Duchess (The Duchess Club Book 1) (27 page)

B
lind
Aphrodite

T
HE JADED GENTLEMEN

Revenge Wears Rubies

Seduction Wears Sapphires

Ecstasy Wears Emeralds

Passion Wears Pearls

Obsession Wears Opals

Desire Wears Diamonds

T
HE BLACK ROSE TRILOGY

Lady Falls

Lady Rises

Lady Triumphs

T
HE MISTRESS TRILOGY

A Lady’s Pleasure

Madame’s Deception

A Rogue’s Game

A
lso with novellas
in these Anthologies:

The School for Heiresses – Mischief’s Holiday

A Very Matchmaker Christmas – To Win a Quiet Heart

M
ODERN PENNY DREADFULS Series
writing as A.R. Crimson:

The Beauty and the Buccaneer

The Viking and the Vixen
(Coming Soon!)

L
OST WORLD CHRONICLES
writing as Robin Geoffreys:

Treason’s Heart

B
ooks
in
The Eternity Gambit©
Series
:

Devil to Pay

Devil May Care

Devil of a Job
– Coming SOON!

Devil in the Details
– Coming October 2016

Azrael’s Girl
– Comic Book Available Now!

T
o Contact Renee
(the author loves to hear from readers and will do her best to respond if she can!)

http://www.FaceBook.com/ReneeBernardAuthor

Twitter: @ReneeBernard

http://www.reneebernardauthor.com

T
alon stepped
out from his carriage without a glance at the footman. It was late in the afternoon and he’d deliberately timed it so that he would be the last of the day’s social calls. He subtly straightened his coat as he assessed the house. The Blackwell home was more elegant and imposing than he’d expected for a family who’d made their fortunes in trade. Even so, he made his way easily up the steps where the door was opened and the butler stood at the ready.

Talon held out his card before submitting to the rituals of a call. He had not sent it ahead of time and given them warning of his arrival. He watched closely for the servant’s reaction to his title and was disappointed as the man calmly perused it as if dukes and princes of the realm were a daily occurrence.

“The ladies are in the ground floor salon. I’ll let them know you are here, Your Grace. If you’d be so kind as to wait here in the library.” The man led him from the foyer into a large and well-appointed library.

Talon wondered if his London home’s library were a match for it and then fought with a sense of irritation that it may not be. “Mr. Blackwell is fond of reading then?”

“Mrs. Blackwell loves her books and is a firm believer in the benefits of education.”

“Indeed. This is her entire collection?”

“No, Your Grace. The bulk of her collection is at Bellewood University.”

Talon said nothing, absorbing the new reality that a woman existed who would amass books and house them at a seat of learning. The butler left without a word to let the ladies know of his visit and Talon settled in confidently for the short wait. He circled the room, awed at the selections and the quality of the tomes, unsettled at the notion that Mr. Blackwell had not reined in his wife’s odd proclivities.
Not a slice of light fiction to be seen which makes it like no collection of books of any woman I have ever encountered. Is it all a show? A pretense to hide her rustic American manners? It is the most expensive window-dressing in history and a shameless waste since one conversation will out her weaker understanding of—

“If you’ll follow me, Your Grace.”

Talon dropped a self-conscious hand from a shelf of texts on the history of Rome and swept out after Blackwell’s butler. He braced himself for the call, silently marveling that he’d made so few social calls in his lifetime. It was generally the purview of women and his rank had exempted him from most of the tangle. Generally, people were calling on him, petitions in hand but this was different.

After Elgin had confessed his infatuation with one of the Blackwell Beauties, Talon had decided that it was not a matter to be put off. Rather than meet them in public on the pretense of chance, he was going to run directly into the line of fire. Except at the moment, as he neared the threshold, it struck him that he hadn’t really come up with a strategy for this social call. He wanted to see this girl for himself and assess the threat to his friend’s happiness but how one dissuaded a child from breaking an older man’s heart like a toy eluded him.

“The Duke of Stafford,” the butler announced solemnly.

The ladies rose to curtsey as he crossed the threshold and Talon’s steps slowed. The settee was occupied by two mature beauties.
I have no small talk for debutantes but probably less on hand for mothers. But such is the nature of the battlefield…

“I am Caroline Blackwell, Your Grace.” A petite woman in coral silks stepped forward to greet him, her smile warm. “This is my dearest friend, Mrs. Eleanor Hastings. She came to offer me moral support as I’m far too prone to speak without censure or worse, to forget to mind the clock and make strangely subtle signals to wonderful guests I don’t wish to see leave.”

“Mrs. Blackwell. Mrs. Hastings.” He nodded to each, fighting not to grin back at Mrs. Blackwell. She was a woman without guile but with such natural charm, it was nearly impossible not to be immediately disarmed.

“My friend’s candor is a talent we treasure in her, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hastings said. “And punctuality is a weakness of mine so I am happy to be of service.”

“It is for the guest to mind the time and not overstay. I will not be long, Mrs. Blackwell.”

“These are my daughters, Scarlett and Starr,” Caroline said gesturing to the two young ladies who had been perched quietly in the window seat. Talon shifted to accept that he’d failed to see them there and then marveled that he hadn’t spotted them instantly.

The Blackwell Beauties didn’t disappoint. Taller than their mother, they were breath-taking cameos in patrician lines, with the coloring of English roses in afternoon dresses of sea foam green and enigmatic blue. Blonde curls of burnished-gold framed identical faces with huge eyes the color of amber and each young woman gazed at him with open intelligence and a sweet curiosity.

Damn it. Elgin is…no fool.

“It is a pleasure to meet you both,” he said. “Which is Scarlett? And which Starr?”

“The question of the day,” one of them said. “I know if we embroidered our names on our blouses we’d save everyone a great deal of worry but I’m too stubborn and my sister is extremely averse to drawing attention to her décolletage.” She stepped forward fearlessly and did not curtsey. “I am Scarlett Blackwell, Your Grace. I am the eldest by minutes I am told but at introductions such as these, it is a good chance to mention it and watch Starr’s color change, wouldn’t you agree?”

“She has no proof of being eldest and it’s largely a fable up for debate,” Starr countered smoothly. “But now that we’ve revealed what contentious creatures we are, I think she deserves a demotion to youngest.”

Hell, best not to let that beautiful exterior deceive a man—the Blackwell twins could hold their own and were not hollow fragile shells of feminine beauty. Nor were they as demure and restrained as one expected in good society…

“Girls,” Caroline said as firmly as she could. “Stop showing off.” She gestured toward an empty chair across from the settee. “I apologize, Your Grace. It’s been a long afternoon and my daughters are inherently lively company on any given day but today has been particularly…entertaining.”

Everyone took their seats and Talon watched in fascination at the interplay of the women.

Scarlett shifted her skirts to sit back down next to her sister. “We were merely trying to participate.”

“A mistake, I suspect,” Starr said as she pushed a rebellious curl from her forehead. “We meant to lighten the mood of our visitors but have learned that not everyone appreciates witty humor in a woman.”

“Or a lengthy treatise on the components of western civilization.” Scarlett added wryly making her twin’s cheeks flush pink. “Though I’m sure Mrs. Saltzman was much improved after her visit and grateful for the education.”

Starr playfully swiped at her sister’s shoulder, as if they would wrestle like bear cubs. “One cannot lump the Greeks and Romans into one philosophical soup.”

“Not in your presence in any case,” Scarlett quipped.

“Your daughters are…quite educated,” Talon said to Mrs. Blackwell. “How unique.”

A strange hush fell over the room and finally Caroline Blackwell answered him. “It is my belief that it is a tragedy to give girls only a passing acquaintance with education and that ignorance does not enhance a woman’s appeal. Or a man’s for that matter.”

“I see.” It was all Talon could manage at that moment. He didn’t really see the point in overeducating women but he was not stupid enough to argue politics and social reforms on a social call.

“Were you introduced at Aldridge’s?” Mrs. Hastings asked directly.

“I did not have that pleasure.” Talon tried not to look at the twins as he spoke. “I was not at the ball but my good friend met one of your daughters and I…” This was the moment when he should make his disapproval clear or hint that Chesterton’s act had more to do with temporary insanity than a young woman’s social graces but words failed him.

Caroline smiled unaware of his dilemma. “Curiosity is a powerful force. It feels as if half of London has been similarly inspired to call. I wonder if we disappoint after closer inspection.”

“No. I am sure that you could not. But it must seem intrusive, the parade of gawking well-wishers and the socially ambitious.”

“Oh, I would not describe them so unkindly,” Caroline said. “I am sure they meant well.”

Talon was not confident of the altruistic nature of the peerage but he did not correct her openly.

“What brings you here, Your Grace?” Scarlett asked. “Surely not ambition.”

Starr gasped, but Talon was grateful for the excuse to look at her directly and seized the opportunity. “No, not ambition.”

“I reluctantly confess,” Mrs. Blackwell interjected. “I am exhausted but I don’t wish to seem rude. Why don’t you take the girls on a turn in the garden, Your Grace? Mrs. Hastings can keep an eye on you for decorum’s sake and accompany you all but I think a bit of fresh air wouldn’t hurt you girls after being confined for an afternoon.”

It was a forward suggestion and would have seemed crude except that Mrs. Blackwell did look pale and vaguely pained as her color changed and Talon did not doubt her discomfort.

Eleanor Hastings’ look of alarm was almost comical at the unexpected and unorthodox offer. “B-but…”

Caroline stood forcing all of them to follow suit and Talon struggled not to smile at the dilemma on Mrs. Hastings’ face but also the look of shocked horror on the twins’ faces as well. Most women would claw over each other to spend time with a titled bachelor caller but Scarlett and Starr were not apparently like most women.

Caroline gave her youngest an enigmatic look and suddenly all was motion.

“Yes, would you care to see the garden?” Starr offered. “The…fountain was just installed.”

“As my hostess is fatigued, it would be ungentlemanly to refuse and luckily I have always had a fascination with topiaries and outdoor water features.” He nodded to Mrs. Blackwell and stepped back to allow the women to lead the way.

For the space of one breath, he wondered if Scarlett Blackwell would refuse but Starr touched her hand and instead, she smiled. “Right this way.”

He was led from the house and out into the garden, doing his best not to look surprised at how lovely it was though moderate in size compared to his own estates. Talon began to compose a compliment to that effect when Starr abruptly halted her progress in front of him and nearly caused a collision.

“Pardon me, I need to go back in and retrieve our parasols, Your Grace. Scarlett, I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

“Wait—” Scarlett held up a hand in protest but her sister was far too quick in her retreat, ignoring even the helpless gasps of protest from their chaperone as she disappeared back into the house.

It was all Talon could do not to grin as his luck simply continued to improve and Scarlett Blackwell landed squarely in his nearly solitary company for his undivided attention. A chaperone was an ordinary restriction and while the red-headed Mrs. Hastings was doing her best to look formidable, he was not intimidated. Especially since he had no personal designs on the lovely goddess nervously leading him along the gravel lined walk.

Well, not the designs a chaperone would expect.

“Shall we?” He held out his arm for her to take, formally forcing her to stop walking ahead of him and slow to a more courteous pace.

Scarlett placed her hand as lightly as she could on his arm. Her goal was to touch him as little as possible. It was not that the man was repulsive but rather that he was so impossibly handsome he unsettled her. One dreamt of dashing men with titles but the Duke of Stafford was all too real and permeating her senses with potent force. He was tall enough to make her feel dainty but not so tall that she felt like cowering. Broad shouldered and lean, his hair was as dark as a raven’s wing, the duke’s sapphire blue eyes were more striking framed with coal black lashes any woman would envy. She wanted to maintain her equilibrium and not melt into a giggling mess, but the strange miracle of a second duke in her sphere was almost more than she could absorb.

And this duke is much closer to my age and…oh, dear. It’s like the most romantic dream I could ever have—and I feel giddy touching the man’s coat…

“As you wish.”

“Did I frighten your sister away?”

“No.” Scarlett didn’t wish to explain that Starr’s temperament was not inclined to social calls or walks in gardens with dukes nor that she’d probably rushed to their mother to ensure that all was well. “I feel I should apologize, Your Grace. We’ve never had earnest callers before and today was…overwhelming. Now, here you are and I cannot think of why I was ever intimidated by dowagers and matrons for you far outpace them for—I cannot think how one braces for such a surprise. You are an unexpected sight, Your Grace. I begin to think if I had a dozen sisters I would still have the sensation of needing reinforcements.”

“It is a social call, Miss Blackwell, not an invasion.”

“So you say but after all surely there is an element of the battlefield in ballrooms and sitting rooms.” Scarlett bit her lower lip. “We play for our lives, do we not?”

“I suppose we do.”

Eleanor Hastings followed behind them at a discreet distance to give the pair enough privacy to converse but stayed close enough so that she could see them both or come quickly if summoned.

In vain, Scarlett waited for him to say something else. It was generally more polite to allow a man to take the lead in things but Scarlett knew that in the Blackwell family such rules were largely ignored. Father loved to hear his girls’ opinions and had encouraged them in all things, often smiling to compare them with their mother. But silence was not a happy or familiar state for her and at last, she gave in to the compulsive need for conversation. “May I ask a forward question?”

“Of course,” he said.

“It seems unusual that you would make such a call to introduce yourself to a relatively unknown debutante, Your Grace. I know that there was a bit of…commotion over the events at Aldridge’s but I never thought that so many people would respond as they have.”