What a Devilish Duke Desires (12 page)

When he strode toward her, she eyed him warily. He set the half-finished glass of lemonade on the table and leaned closer to her.

“I want to see you again. Meet me at Green Park tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know more about you.”

She shook her head. “I do not think it is a good idea.”

“Who will know but us?” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. “What if one of your friends saw me with you? I can well imagine what they would think of me.”

“They’ll be at Rotten Row during the fashionable hour. No need to worry.”

A roar went up within the ballroom, followed by thunderous clapping. Harry turned around and saw his eldest cousin Mina and Lord Everleigh standing on the dais. “I had better go.”

“Yes, go, and please do not jeopardize my job again.”

He grinned. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“You’re awfully confident, but you are bound for disappointment.”

He looked at her over his shoulder, winked, and walked into the ballroom.

Lucy released her breath as she wiped up the condensation from his glass of lemonade. When he’d first approached, her face had grown hot. She didn’t care that he’d seen her serving. He’d been to her home after all, and serving lemonade was honest work. But she’d been uneasy with his flirtation while she was working. It was just her luck that Mrs. Thompson, the head maid, would see him with her. Lucy ought to have known he would attend Almack’s. Only the crème de la crème received vouchers, and he most certainly was one of them.

When Mrs. Thompson approached, Lucy’s muscles stiffened. Would the head maid chastise her for unseemly conduct? Or worse, sack her?

“Do you know who that gent was?” Mrs. Thompson asked with her ham of a hand on her hip.

“No.” God forgive her for the lie, but it would hurt no one, and she would have a difficult time explaining how she knew him.

“I heard one of the society ladies talkin’ ’bout him. He’s the Duke of Granfield,” Mrs. Thompson said.

She pretended ignorance. “Oh?”

Mrs. Thompson snorted. “Oh,” she says. “He’s the bleedin’ Duke of Granfield, the one what inherited his uncle’s fortune. He’s the catch of the season or so one of the hoity-toity ladies said. If you don’t believe me, have a look at those ladies circlin’ him like vultures.”

Ladies dressed in silk and satin thronged him. Their well-bred laughter drifted to Lucy.

She recalled his words the night he’d kissed her
. From the first moment we met, I could not get you out of my head.

He’d spoken as if she were special to him, but the women surrounding him told an entirely different story.

Something hot rushed up her throat. She’d known they could never be anything more than temporary acquaintances. But it was one thing to know in the abstract that he was considered the most eligible bachelor and quite another to watch the ladies flirt with him. From all appearances, he was enjoying their attention.

Lucy pressed her nails into her palms. Jealousy flared inside her chest. She hated that she cared. Of course it was foolish, but the emotions swirled red-hot inside of her. She could never compete with those ladies.

Why was she comparing herself unfavorably to them? She knew plenty about young ladies of the ton. She’d hooked, fitted, and pinned enough spoiled aristo girls to know many of them acted like petulant and sulky children. If that’s what he wanted in a woman, he was welcome to them.

She told herself her jealousy had been nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment. Now she was doubly glad she’d refused to meet him in the park again. But the night he’d kissed her, she’d thought there was something between them. She’d felt the tension and her own yearning. Now she was confused and unsure what to make of his interest in her. He’d been so determined that first time they met in the park, but now watching him with the society ladies, she doubted him and herself.

“Best be wary, my girl,” Mrs. Thompson said. “He looked at you with those blue eyes as if he was undressin’ you. Toffs like him use a girl and leave her after they gets what they want. Nobody hires a gel what has a bun in the oven.”

“That will never happen.”

“See that you remember it,” Mrs. Thompson said, and returned to the kitchen.

Lucy made herself watch him so that she wouldn’t forget that she could never be anyone to him other than a passing flirtation. The trouble was she’d let him into her life, and she couldn’t forget his kiss. Now she was torn between wanting nothing to do with him and wanting him to call on her again. If she was smart, she would shove him out of her thoughts forever. She’d known no good could come from an acquaintance with him, but she couldn’t help wanting to be with him, even though she feared he would hurt her again.

“The dancing competition was splendid,” Mrs. Norcliffe said as Harry’s carriage rolled along the streets of Mayfair. “Mina, you and Lord Everleigh were the darlings of the night. I’m delighted
you
were chosen to advance in the competition.”

“Lord Everleigh is a wonderful dance partner,” Mina said. “Of course, Miss Fothergill and Mr. Castelle acquitted themselves very well tonight.”

“You are entirely too modest, Mina,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

Mina sighed. “I do wish Amelia and Helena would have danced.”

“You are the brave one, Mina,” Amelia said. “Helena and I purposely faded into the background.”

“I could not bear for others to study me while I dance,” Helena said.

“I would have been terrified,” Amelia said, “but, Mina, you looked happy.”

“I suppose one’s partner makes a difference,” Mina said, lowering her lashes.

Harry had seen Mina’s bright eyes and flushed face when the dancing ended. Clearly Mina liked Everleigh. Harry made a note to meet the man at White’s for a drink. He meant to take Everleigh’s measure before allowing him to court Mina, although most courting actually took place on the dance floor—or so he’d been told.

“Harry, we missed seeing you nearly the entire ball,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I heard you were in the gaming room with your friends.”

One thing he could always count on. His mother knew everything about everybody, including him. Mrs. Norcliffe and her haughty friends were known for gossiping, something he found more than a little disagreeable.

“I was disappointed that Miss Osterham grew ill,” his mother continued, “but next week, she will be recovered, and you will dance with her.”

“No, I will not,” he said. “I must be nearly twice her age. If I wish to dance, I will choose my own partner.” His mother was determined that he would participate in this ridiculous dancing competition, but she would not get her way.

Tonight, he’d been perilously close to being trapped into dancing with Miss Osterham all evening. No doubt the other patronesses would have agreed with his mother that he and Miss Osterham should advance in the competition next Wednesday. Then his mother would have said that Miss Osterham expected him to dance with her every week.

He most definitely would not set foot inside Almack’s again.

“Harry, you did not dance at all,” Mrs. Norcliffe said in an irritated tone. “The other patronesses took exception to your disappearance in the game rooms.”

“According to their rules, I would have been required to dance the entire evening with the same partner. I did not wish to do so. Furthermore, I have no wish to be a part of the competition.”

“Harry, you are the most eligible bachelor this season,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.

“Mama, you may spread the word that I’m the most
ineligible
bachelor this season.”

“You are a never-ending cause of my vexation, Harry.”

“Sorry to disappoint you.”

She huffed. “You enjoy it.”

One year ago, no one would have ever considered him marriage material. He’d always had pockets to let and possessed neither title nor fortune, both requisite necessities to winning the heart of the latest diamond of the first water. His cousins had once explained to him that meant a great beauty, but he’d no idea what first water was all about. It sounded ridiculous to him.

He intended to wed when the time was right. Lately, there had been too much upheaval in his life. He needed time to adjust to the numerous changes in his circumstances first.

He thought about his preferences for a wife. Naturally he wished for a woman who would shed all inhibitions in bed, but a virginal bride would likely be skittish. He was confident he could coax a shy bride. All the same, he would prefer someone who was clever and not easily conquered.

Such as a petite, strong-willed redhead who gave him no quarter.

He remained curious about her. How in the world was she earning enough money to support herself and her grandmother? And why would she take a lowly position serving at Almack’s when she was clearly educated. He knew she’d not been in London very long and probably had few connections.

He could help her if she would allow it. Hopefully she would meet him at the park tomorrow. Since the first night he’d met her, he’d not been able to shove her out of his thoughts. That had never happened to him before. He’d teased and bedded more than a few women. Always he’d tired of them, usually rather quickly, and walked away with no regrets.

No woman had ever captivated him the way Lucy had done. He didn’t know why he couldn’t forget her, the way he’d forgotten so many others. Perhaps it was the combination of her saucy retorts mingled with her vulnerability. She
was
vulnerable, whether she admitted it or not. He wanted to protect her, but she was no hot-house flower like most of the women of the ton. Her bravery had stunned him the first night he’d met her when she’d flashed her wicked blade.

He had to admit he wanted her in his arms. He couldn’t make himself stop wanting her, but instinct told him she wasn’t the sort of woman who would take a man into her bed.

She was an original, nothing like the women he’d met in the ton. She was clever, determined, and independent in ways that no lady of the ton would ever dare. He liked that she was unique, and nothing like the vain ladies who expected compliments about their beauty. Lucy didn’t simper and lower her eyes. She didn’t hesitate to speak her mind.

She challenged him, made him laugh, and refused to give him any quarter. She’d insisted there could be nothing between them because of class distinctions, but he refused to let some arbitrary social rules stand in his way. When she was near him, he felt exhilarated and excited. For the first time in all the years he’d sought out women, he could not forget and walk away.

She was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night.

There was only one answer. He would pursue her and before it was all over, he would make her his.

H
arry’s day had not gone well. He’d gotten a letter from the estate manager at Havenwood letting him know of several
inconvenient incidences
. The bridge needed repairs, four of the pigs had somehow escaped the pens, and the kitchen range had to be replaced. To top it all off, he’d gotten a headache in parliament over a nasty divorce petition. At the end of the day, he’d gone to Green Park only to find that Lucy had not gone there to meet him. Damn it all, he’d been disappointed.

The last thing he’d wanted was to go out this evening, but he’d agreed to meet Lord Everleigh at White’s for a brandy. Harry was fairly certain the ginger-haired Everleigh held tender feelings for Mina, but he wanted to be sure. Harry was the only male figure in his cousin’s lives. As such, he felt it was his responsibility to protect them and ensure their happiness to the degree possible.

Everleigh seemed a decent chap, although he was a bit tongue-tied at times. More important, Harry didn’t want Mina and Everleigh to feel obliged to dance the entire evening at Almack’s week after week, unless both truly wanted to continue in the ridiculous competition. If they continued, others might think the pair was headed for the altar.

The situation was unusual to say the least. Everyone in the ton knew they had won the first night’s competition, and Harry feared Everleigh and Mina might feel pressed to marry if they continued dancing together all season. The last thing he wanted was for the two of them to feel obligated to wed.

His fears were real ones. He knew of men and women who had felt obligated to marry for one reason or another. It had happened to Wellington of all people. Harry didn’t want Mina or Everleigh to feel trapped by the weight of others’ expectations. Tonight he meant to broach the topic of the dancing competition with Everleigh to prevent something similar happening to Mina.

After a brief discussion of today’s events in parliament, Harry ordered two more brandies and raised his glass. “Cheers,” he said.

“To you as well,” Everleigh said.

“So, are you planning to attend Almack’s next week?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Harry set his glass aside. “In normal circumstances, a lady does not dance more than two dances with one gentleman.” Harry leaned back in his chair. “However, the patronesses changed the rules for Almack’s this particular season.”

“Indeed, they surprised us all,” Everleigh said.

“Are you planning to continue in the dancing competition?”

“Yes.” He frowned and added, “With your permission, I wish to ask Miss Radburn to dance again, provided she is amenable.”

Harry couldn’t tell for certain if Everleigh truly wished to partner with Mina or if he felt obligated. The latter concerned him. He took a deep breath and said, “I imagine there are ways to bow out, if you or my cousin so desire,” Harry said. “After all, it is highly unusual to dance with the same partner for an entire evening, much less week after week.”

Everleigh stared into his brandy glass as if looking for a suitable response. “Well, I certainly would be most honored to dance with Miss Radburn every Wednesday night, provided she accepts my request—with your permission of course.”

Harry sipped his brandy. “Let us metaphorically lay our cards faceup on the table, shall we?”

“Of course,” Everleigh said. “What do you wish to know?”

Harry set his glass aside. “First, it cannot have escaped your notice that partnering my cousin several times this season will result in…shall we say
expectations
.”

Everleigh frowned. “Well, I had hoped, er, I very much…”

Harry leaned forward. “The cards are faceup, Everleigh. Now is the time to be honest.”

The tops of Everleigh’s ears grew red as he looked at the table. “With your approval and that of Miss Radburn, I very much wish to continue as her dancing partner.”

“Everleigh,” Harry said, and waited for him to look him in the eyes.

When the man met his gaze, Harry sighed. “If you continue to dance exclusively with my cousin, everyone will likely expect you to propose to Mina for honor’s sake. Are you prepared for that eventuality?”

“Of course,” Everleigh said, a little too quickly.

Harry considered Everleigh’s response. “Are you certain? If that is not your wish, we will contrive a reason for you to bow out, such as a sudden illness of one of your relatives.”

“I intend to continue,” Everleigh said.

“Let me emphasize that I’m not trying to press you,” Harry said. “You might as well know I won’t let her wed unless I’m absolutely certain that the man adores her. Mina lost her parents when she was only ten years old. I’ll not see her suffer again.”

Everleigh inhaled. “When I asked about her family, she told me about the tragedy. I very much wish to continue in the dancing competition with her, provided it is still her wish.”

“I suspect that it is.”

After a long pause, Everleigh’s expression grew anxious. “I fear I have given the wrong impression.”

“I see.” Mina would be terribly disappointed, but better that than enter into a marriage because one or the other felt obligated. Mina deserved someone who loved her dearly.

Everleigh drew in a sharp breath. “I wish…I mean I hope by the end of the dancing competition that Miss Radburn will do me a great honor.” Everleigh’s cheeks grew as red as his hair.

Harry’s brows rose. “You’re certain.”

“Yes, I am,” Everleigh said. “I couldn’t bear it if she married another man.”

Harry smiled. “Well, then, you are free to court her. Care for another round?” Harry asked. “The night is still early.”

“No thanks,” Everleigh said. “Another time, perhaps?”

“Yes, of course.”

Harry sipped his brandy. Everleigh’s certainty about marrying Mina made him think about his own life. He’d been a bachelor for thirteen long years. Back when he was eighteen, he and Colin had gotten into one scrape after another. They’d sneaked women and bottles into their rooms at Oxford and later at the Albany. While some of it was hilarious in retrospect, he didn’t miss puking his guts out after a hard night’s drinking and the inevitable morning after where he had the devil of a headache. Ye gods, had he really ever thought that was amusing?

He walked to the foyer, wrapped his scarf around his neck, and stepped outside of White’s. His carriage waited for him a block away. He couldn’t help remembering that first night he’d met Lucy on the street and her advice to him. Damn, she’d surprised and intrigued him that night, and she’d continued to do so every time they’d met since then.

When he climbed into his carriage, he picked up the cane and tapped it on the ceiling. He was all too aware of how much he thought about Lucy. It was like a madness of sorts. The women in his past had been jaded widows who lasted no longer than a night or two in his bed. Back then, he’d just been looking to slake his lust with a willing widow.

What he felt for Lucy was not simple lust. There was nothing simple about his feelings. He desired her, but he also felt protective of her. He worried about her safety, and yet he admired her courage. Then, there were the external obstacles that she insisted they could not cross. Those obstacles never gave him pause, but she was adamant that they could not overcome class barriers. He didn’t believe it, but she did, and that was a problem, one he meant to overcome.

Harry envied Everleigh and wished matters with Lucy weren’t so blasted complicated. But he vowed to pursue her. He would never give up and he would never let her go.

Friday morning

Lucy kissed her grandmother’s cheek. “You are almost finished knitting the left mitten.”

“Yes, I am close. Once this one is done, I’ll start the other. When I finish one dozen, will you take them to the workhouse for me?”

“I will.” She was amazed by and very proud of her grandmother. Because of her lack of sight, she’d taught herself to knit by touch.

Lucy walked to the peg to retrieve her cloak. She sighed, wishing she didn’t have to leave her grandmother alone today.

“Are you tired, dear? You arrived home after midnight.”

“I’m fine. The walk will leave me feeling energetic,” Lucy said.

“I suppose the duke was among the crème de la crème at Almack’s.”

“Yes, I saw him there,” Lucy said.

“You sound disappointed,” Grandmama said.

“Not at all. It was as I expected. He was quite popular with the wealthy ladies. I’d better hurry. Tonight, I will tell you about last night’s dance competition.”

“I look forward to hearing about it,” Grandmama said. “How very strange that the quality is holding a dance competition. I wonder what prompted such an odd turn of events.”

“Perhaps they are bored with their too perfect lives and must invent new amusements.”

Grandmama chuckled. “Undoubtedly, you are correct. And you are giving dance lessons to Mrs. Vernon’s daughters?”

“Yes, I am. The girls will repeat last week’s lesson to ensure they have the steps memorized, and then we will work on hops and jetés. Directly afterward, I’m teaching Mrs. Rohan’s children. Then it’s off to the Albany. Next week, I’ll be teaching the Rylander children as well. I’m obliged to Mrs. Vernon for recommending me to her friends.” But she needed far more clients if she were to support herself teaching dance. There would always be those who dropped the instruction or left the city for a holiday at Brighton. She had an opportunity now thanks to Mrs. Vernon, and she must seize additional ones.

“It does sound as if Mrs. Vernon is a sensible lady,” Grandmama said.

“Today marks the third time I’ve taught her daughters. Mrs. Vernon seems to be a fair and caring mother—unlike Lady Blenborough.”

“That poor child,” Grandmama said. “How could Lady Blenborough be so cruel?”

“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “It broke my heart to see Prudence’s misery.”

Lucy pulled the hood of her cape up. “After the dance lesson, I will report to the Albany and then I will return home late this afternoon.”

Grandmama frowned. “I wish you did not have to go into service.”

“I don’t mind. Really, a little cleaning never hurt anybody. Unlike those who work at the large country mansions, I’m able to leave after I finish for the day. Then I can spend the entire evening with you.”

Grandmama rose and used her stick as she followed Lucy to the door.

“Latch the door after me,” Lucy said, and hurried her step.

While the wind was a bit brisk, the sun was out, and that made her journey to Grosvenor Square pleasanter. The chirping of starlings in the trees made her wish she could take Grandmama to the park today, but if she were frugal, perhaps they could take a hackney to the park in a fortnight.

She turned into the square and saw Buckley leaning on a walking stick by the gates. His presence irritated her, but she was determined to ignore him. She avoided eye contact as she walked past, but he limped beside her. “Is this how you planned to get rid of me? By causing my fall so you could steal my clients?”

“You fell because you were unsteady from drinking spirits.”

“You spewed lies about me to Mrs. Vernon.”

She scoffed. “You must have hit your head and knocked your brains about. I had nothing to do with your dismissal.”

“If you mean to poach my clients, you had better watch your back. I’ll make you pay.”

She didn’t take his bluster seriously. “Buckley, you reek of spirits now. You brought trouble upon yourself. I had nothing to do with it.”

When he tried to grab her, Lucy scuttled out of his reach. “If you come near me again, I’ll scream my head off.”

Just then, a large footman opened the door. “Leave the lady be, sir, or I’ll send the watch after you.”

Buckley glared at her. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

When the footman strode toward them, Buckley hobbled off.

In the aftermath, Lucy shuddered. She would have to resort to carrying her knife in her basket again. While Buckley had never been violent before, she thought it best to be prepared. If anything happened to her, there would be no one to take care of her grandmother.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he, miss?” the footman asked.

“No, he did not. Thank you for your assistance,” she said. “I’ll go around to the servant’s entrance.”

“Mrs. Vernon bade me to tell you to come in through the foyer. She saw him by the gate and wanted me to escort you safely inside.”

She winced. “He’s liable to return again. Mrs. Vernon ought to know.”

“I believe she is aware of that possibility.”

“I’d best go up,” she said.

After she reached the drawing room, Lucy curtsied. “Thank you, Mrs. Vernon.”

“We will speak after the lesson,” she said, sliding her gaze to her daughters.

“Very well.” Lucy looked at the girls. “Shall we begin?”

The two girls stood before her.

“Today I will demonstrate the difference between a hop and a jeté. Are you familiar with them?”

“A little,” the elder sister said, “but we have not practiced for many months.”

“I fear I was a bit too indulgent during the winter months,” Mrs. Vernon said.

“I understand,” Lucy said. “Today’s lesson should be fairly straightforward. With a hop, you land on the same foot. A jeté involves taking off and landing on the opposite foot. Watch me and then you will practice.”

After the girls mastered the jeté, she clapped her hands. “Excellent. Your mother will be very proud of you. Since you did so well, we will work on the waltz traveling step. I’m sure you will both do very well. It is up, up, up, on the balls of your feet and down. That’s four counts up and one count down. When you sink to your heels, you will perform a plié. Now follow me and remember not to worry about making mistakes. Practice makes perfect.”

“You are always so nice to us,” Marie said.

She’d learned from watching her mother’s gentle teaching. “You are doing very well and encouragement is far more helpful than criticism,” Lucy said. “Imagine your arms are as light as air. Think of the gracefulness of a butterfly’s wings. Your wrists, elbows, and knees are pliant. When you perform the movements, you focus on the lightness of your steps. Now, my butterflies, we will practice the waltz traveling step once more with grace and lightness. Step up, up, up, on the balls of your feet and sink with lightness into a plié. Oh, that was wonderful, girls. I’m so proud of you,” Lucy said.