A Duke of Her Own (4 page)

“Because it might be a factor.”

“Handsome and a good kisser,” Jenny said. “So let’s move on to the next requirement, which is large hands.”

Louisa glowered at her. “You are making sport of me.”

“No, not at all. Although in truth, I’ve never had a man touch me intimately, but when I think of him doing so, I think of large, strong hands, hands capable of delivering passion.”

Louisa cleared her throat. “I think we need to concentrate on something a bit more measurable from a distance.”

“Such as?”

“His sense of humor, his wit, his ability to converse on interesting topics—”

“Where is the passion in all of that?” Jenny asked.

“Passion is not simply physical,” Louisa said. “It is the way a man looks at his estate and sees the generations that have come before him. It is his appreciation of Shakespeare. It is his standing by his obligations. It is his courteous nature. His
respect for his elders. So much can be determined from a distance.”

Jenny sighed. “You’re not going to let me slip away to kiss a man, are you?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Our gentlemen require very proper behavior in the ladies they are considering to marry, and I must ensure them that you are as suitable for them as they are for you. I’m beginning to think I must give you an appreciation for our heritage.”

“I don’t want lessons,” Jenny said. “I’ve had far too many lessons.” She pointed to the invitations in Louisa’s lap. “So which balls should we attend?”

Louisa began sorting through the invitations again, wondering if she had not set an impossible task for herself.

T
he very thought of marriage sent a chill skittering down his spine, but Hawk knew he had reached the point in his life where he no longer had a choice. At four-and-thirty—as his mother constantly reminded him—he wasn’t getting any younger. He had a duty to provide a legitimate heir, and he was also obligated to arrange some sort of financial security for those to whom he was responsible. An American heiress would provide him adequately with both.

While the Rose sisters weren’t the only heiresses in London this Season, Lady Louisa had tossed down a gauntlet, whether intentional or not. He had decided he
would
marry one of them by God, simply because Lady Louisa was so determined that he wouldn’t.

He did love to embrace a challenge.

Standing unobserved near the glass-paned door that led to the terrace, Hawk had watched Lady Louisa elegantly circling the room, introducing her charges to a number of gentlemen of her choosing, men she no doubt considered suitable. Boring and unadventuresome. A pity none of those staid, proper, and well-behaved gentlemen had taken her to wife. Then he would not have to deal with her high idealism now.

The first ball was without a doubt quite important. The impression the ladies made would have an impact on the remainder of their Season. From his observations, he’d managed to deduce that both ladies were exceedingly lovely, graceful, and poised.

But then what American heiress wasn’t?

They had money at their disposal, and money was power. Of course, so was a title. Mix the two, and he would be unconquerable. He would be able to do anything he damned well pleased where he damned well pleased when he damned well pleased. Life would be what it hadn’t been in a good long while: enjoyable. His burdens would be lifted, his responsibilities would be easier to bear.

He’d spent considerable time plotting the strategy that would result in his achieving his goal of marrying one of the Rose sisters. All that remained was for him to put his plan into action.

The music for the quadrille eased into silence. He watched as each Rose sister in turn was escorted back to her chaperone. He waited while
gentlemen approached, Lady Louisa gave her charges into their protection, and the ladies were escorted back to the dance floor. It was time for Hawk to make his move.

He enjoyed nothing more than he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.

She was aware of his approach long before he came into her field of vision. She felt his gaze, his attention focused on her as though he had sighted his prey. She didn’t know where that thought had come from. She knew only that it was the way she felt.

She shifted her gaze slightly and could clearly see him striding lithely toward her, something predatory about his movements. He was a civilized man who suddenly appeared quite uncivilized. He was so incredibly dark, not only in his looks but in his manner. The name his intimates used when referring to him—Hawk—seemed quite appropriate. She’d never referred to him as such, would never take it upon herself to be that informal with him.

She could fully understand the reason he’d gained a reputation for being a man with whom ladies’ hearts were far from safe. As he came to stand before her, he suddenly appeared to be quite dangerous.

His eyes darkened, his mouth curved up into a slow, sensual smile. She’d never before noticed a man’s lips. How soft they looked, how inviting. She was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe,
as though invisible fingers were slowly tightening the laces on her corset.

“Lady Louisa,” he said with a sultry purr that closely resembled the low growl she’d once heard a lion emit during one of her visits to the zoological gardens. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

Her cheeks warmed, and she wondered if her flush was visible. “Your Grace, as I’m sure you are well aware, I’m in attendance this eve as a chaperone, not an invited guest.” Initially an embarrassing predicament as acquaintances greeted her and began to comprehend her role. She had effectively taken herself off the marriage market and suffered through looks of pity from those with whom she’d once shared the dream of marriage. They had acquired the dream, while she was left with nothing but a nightmare. But the damage was done, the rumors would spread, and she was certain making an appearance at the next ball would be much easier, and by Season’s end all would forget she’d once had hopes of marriage and family.

“I daresay you’ve done a remarkable job in seeing that your charges are otherwise occupied, in no need of your services at this moment. I can see no harm in your taking a turn about the dance floor as well.”

How she longed to accept his invitation, to be whirled across the polished floor as though she hadn’t a care in the world. But she couldn’t help
but wonder:
Why now? Why ask me to dance now when you have never before asked?

“It would not be appropriate,” she insisted, striving to convince herself as well as him. What would it hurt for two minutes, three at the most, to simply enjoy the evening and the attentions of a man?

“I can think of nothing more appropriate than to dance with a lovely lady.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to, Your Grace?”

He extended his elbow. “You seem to be of the opinion that I’m not good husband material, and so I thought a simple demonstration was in order: merely to prove I can be most charming when I set my mind to it. I would ask you be equally charming. If you don’t place your hand on my arm and allow me to escort you to the dance floor, all will know you have snubbed me. Not exactly an enviable position for a chaperone to be in, now is it?”

“You have backed me into a rather uncomfortable corner.”

Tilting his head slightly, he gave her a devastatingly dangerous smile. “Then allow me to lead you out of it.”

Truly, what choice did she have other than to accept his invitation? She tried not to look too pleased that she was going to have an opportunity to move with the rhythm of the music. Without a word, she placed her hand on his arm and
allowed him to escort her to the dance floor and into a waltz.

She’d not danced since the Christmas holidays. It felt wonderful again to have her slippers following where a gentleman led. She’d not considered this aspect when she’d made her decision to seek a position as a social chaperone: that she would be relegated to observing the merriment rather than being ensconced in the midst of it. While she’d never had any serious suitors, neither had she ever been relegated to wallflower. She’d had dance partners and a dance card often more full than not.

“How are you enjoying your recently acquired role of chaperone?” Hawkhurst asked.

She nearly tripped over her feet. Had he somehow managed to read her mind? Was her face more expressive than she realized?

“I am enjoying it quite well, thank you.”

“It comes with a great deal of responsibility.”

“Indeed it does.”

“It did not escape my notice that you introduced one of the ladies to Lord Ainsley.”

“Yes. Jenny.”

“Mmm.” He pressed his lips together as though to stop himself from speaking.

“What exactly does that mean?”

“Forgive my boldness, but your brother mentioned that
you
mentioned that Miss Jenny Rose was searching for passion.”

Damn her brother! Was nothing spoken be
tween them sacred? She’d worried about the servants gossiping, and apparently it was Alex with whom she should be concerned.

“She does feel that passion is important,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Then I daresay it will be a miracle if she finds it with Ainsley.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“It is well-known”—he’d lowered his voice slightly, which had her stretching up on her toes to hear him—“that Ainsley has yet to…experience passion himself.”

“Are you implying he has no mistress?”

“I am implying far more than that. I’m implying he has never known the intimate touch of a woman.”

She fought not to blush at words so brashly spoken and forced herself to imitate a smile laced with satisfaction. “Then in my book, he is quite the catch: a man who does not seek frivolous dalliances.”

“Is there no passion in your book?” he asked, with a seductive voice that sent warm shivers cascading down to the heels of her slippers.

Why was he having such an effect on her? She had no doubt he was intentionally seeking to rattle her with his inappropriate conversation and sweltering looks that belonged in the bedchamber, not on the dance floor.

“Of course there is passion.” She sounded breathless. Surely, they must be dancing too
swiftly, and yet she hardly felt her feet touching the floor. “But I don’t see that a man needs to be promiscuous in order to be passionate.”

“Then how, pray tell, is he to learn how to pleasure a woman?”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed at his audacity. “So you justify visiting brothels as a learning experience? Some sort of school—”

“Quite. Ladies of the evening serve an important function in our society that is seldom appreciated. They ensure a man does not bumble about on his wedding night. They instruct him on how to touch a woman.” He lowered his head slightly, the warmth of his breath wafting over her cheek. “
Where
to touch a woman so the act of making love is as satisfying for her as it is for him.”

She was suddenly acutely aware of just how large his gloved hands were, how long his fingers. She wondered at the passion they might elicit and exactly how he might use them. What had he been taught? She had little doubt he’d been an adept student. Even now, with only his eyes, his voice, his nearness, his gloved hands, he was managing to create unsettling carnal images in her mind.

“Based on what my brother has revealed about your endeavors, you are no doubt quite the expert.”

“I do consider myself such, yes. Would you want a man who did not know the way to lead you on a journey into passion?”

Jerking her head back, she came to a stunned
standstill. “That is quite enough, Your Grace. It is entirely inappropriate for you to speak of such things to me.”

“My apologies, but you seemed unable to decipher why Lord Ainsley would be incapable of giving Miss Jenny Rose what she desires, and unable to fathom why it is not such a horrendous thing that men such as your brother, Falconridge, and I do seek pleasure before marriage.”

“For the sole benefit of your future wives?” she asked incredulously.

He gave her a decidedly wicked grin and a wink that caused her heart to flutter madly as though it were a trapped bird seeking freedom. “Not solely, of course, but I do think one can argue that at some point, the benefits will accrue to the wife. Now come, the music continues, as should we before we become the fodder for gossip.”

He tightened his hold on her and swept her along, giving her no choice except to follow.

“You may justify your behavior as much as you like,” she finally managed to say after a while. “I shall not consider you a suitable match for these ladies.”

“Then it seems the way to one of the ladies’ hearts is through you.”

She wasn’t exactly certain what he meant by those words, but they definitely carried a hint of a challenge and perhaps a bit of warning. She couldn’t have been more grateful when the final strains of the music drifted into silence. He placed her gloved hand on his arm and began to lead her
toward the chairs where she’d been when he first approached.

“I must confess that I do not blame you for considering me such a bad influence. In my youth, I was quite the rabble-rouser, and on more than one occasion you caught me engaged in activities that were questionable. Still, I assure you that with the years has come maturity. I would like very much to gain an introduction to Miss Jenny Rose.”

“Your Grace—”

“Before you deny me such a simple request, may I remind you that you vowed you would not encourage the lady to favor me, but neither would you undermine my efforts. Not introducing me undermines my efforts, and, therefore, causes you to break your promise. Hardly commendable behavior for a woman who is charged with guarding others. I daresay the Rose family might look upon you with less favor if they thought you weren’t a woman of your word.”

“Oh, you are ever so clever,” she said.

“So I’m told.” He winked at her. “Not only clever with my words, but with my hands. Think on that, Lady Louisa. Would you truly deny your charges what I can offer?”

“Arrogance? I believe I would.”

“Do not confuse arrogance with confidence.”

Before she could comment, she was met by Jenny, whose gaze slowly swept over Hawkhurst as though he were a delicacy she was consider
ing tasting. These Americans were so incredibly brash. It was little wonder they required a chaperone.

They also required an introduction, and while Louisa was hesitant to provide one, she knew it would indeed be an insult to Hawkhurst now that he was here not to introduce him. Of course, as soon as introductions were made, he invited Jenny to dance, and unfortunately, she was available.

Louisa was hesitant to admit that they looked quite remarkable together. Jenny was tall and willowy, the top of her head even with his shoulder. He wouldn’t have to lower his head to speak quietly to her. He’d barely have to lower his head in order to kiss her.

Where had that irritating thought come from? She’d definitely not allow any kissing.

“He’s certainly a tall drink of water.”

Jerking her head around, she discovered Kate was standing beside her. What sort of irresponsible chaperone was she not to have been aware of Kate’s approach?

“I beg your pardon?”

Kate nodded toward the dance floor. “The intriguing gentleman with whom Jenny is dancing. Who is he?”

“The Duke of Hawkhurst.”

“You don’t approve of him.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not in so many words no, but the way you were watching him: like you expected him to
misbehave. Quite honestly, Lady Louisa, you don’t need to worry about Jenny. She can take care of herself.”

Perhaps that was the reason Louisa worried so: She feared she would discover she wasn’t needed at all.