Authors: Lavinia Kent
“Are you even listening to me?” Angela complained.
“Sorry—and yes. It’s just that every time I think about what my brother is trying to do, my mind freezes like a butterfly in December. I think it’s really all about land. My father owns some finger of land that used to be part of Duldon’s estate and he wants it back. I don’t think either of them even cares about me.” Duldon certainly didn’t. He’d made that clear years ago. It could only be the land that he wanted. Now if only he would quit watching her.
“You know that isn’t true. Your brother cares a great deal about you.”
Bliss did not miss that Angela said nothing about Duldon. “Sometimes I think Swanston does care and then at other times I am not so sure.”
“I don’t think your brother would spend so much time trying to watch over you if he did not care.”
Bliss supposed that was true, although perhaps he was just protecting the family name. That thought was enough to bring a smile to her lips. Protect the Danser name? Dansers had been causing trouble since before anyone could remember. Her father might be the Duke of Mirth, but that didn’t make him respectable. The man had taken up raising llamas. What kind of duke took an interest in livestock that spat? She’d heard of titled gentlemen being proud of their cattle and their horses, but the animals in question were always well washed when displayed. She doubted there was a man brave enough to get near enough to one of her father’s wooly beasts to scrub the thing down.
The creatures did seem fond of her father, but she’d always imagined that had more to do with his pocket full of apples than the man himself.
“You are not paying attention again. Anyone would think you did not care. Perhaps Swanston believes he will marry you off to Duldon and you won’t even notice.” Angela smiled, but there was bite to her words.
“I would notice.” Her heart fluttered in her chest as she spoke, the thought of a wedding night with Duldon flitting at the edges of her mind. No, she would not think of that. That was a forbidden thought. She might be endlessly curious to understand more of what happened between men and women, might long for Lady Ormande to return and give her instruction, but none of that had anything to do with Duldon. She refused to even let her thoughts wander in that direction. She bit once again on her already sore lip. It was far better to come back to the moment. “And to answer your earlier statement, Swanston isn’t paying nearly as much attention to me since he married Louisa. I think that now that she is in his life he doesn’t have as much time for the rest of us. It makes me wonder if he ever truly cared.”
“Now you are talking nonsense.” Angela spoke with absolute authority.
“I know.” Bliss let out a long sigh. “I am being melodramatic. I think I should be allowed a good wallow in self-pity. I have just been informed by my oldest brother that he intends to marry me to Dull-Don if I am not engaged by the end of the summer. He already has the contracts drawn up.” Bliss forced herself to say the dreaded name even though she had just chided Angela for it. It was best to remember what was coming if she did not apply herself to her task. She must find another husband, an easy husband, by the end of the summer, she simply must. And Lady Perse’s teas would surely be the fastest way to accomplish that.
“You didn’t tell me that. I thought it was merely a threat, not a plan. I know you said he planned it, but I didn’t realize he’d actually made a specific plan. I thought it was just a figure of speech. Your brother never lets his plans go. Everybody knows that. Once he begins he is relentless.”
“I know.” Another stone dropped onto the pile still residing in her belly.
“Hmmm.” Angela suddenly smiled. “Perhaps you could convince Swanston that Duldon should marry Dahlia or Felicity. If it really is about a piece of land then what does it matter which of you he marries?”
For the briefest of seconds Bliss considered the option, despite the shiver of distaste that it caused. Her sisters? Why hadn’t she thought of that? Dahlia was so studious that she might very well not mind marrying any intelligent man. She might not even notice. And the earl was known for having a wonderful library. Strangely another rock dropped at the thought. “No, Felicity is still far too young. And Mirth has promised Dahlia a European adventure. I believe that he hopes to add a little life to her. He doesn’t know what to do with a child who doesn’t cause trouble. I doubt that Duldon wants to wait for either of them and as you say, once my brother begins a plan he is unmovable. No, I must find another husband or marry Duldon.”
“And that is why you want one of Lady Perse’s invitations?” Angela asked, putting the whole conversation together.
“Yes.” Bliss turned away and surveyed the growing crowd. Surely she would have received one by now if she was going to. A boulder swayed on the precipice, waiting to plunge. Her teeth sliced into her already swollen lip. If she was not careful she would draw blood. She looked about with care, noting those young ladies who bounced and swayed with that extra portion of joy. Miss Strong had received one, and she was most noted for frequently looking like a piece of fruit, her gowns incredibly ill-chosen. Even Miss Swilp was dancing on tiptoes. As if sensing Bliss’s gaze, Miss Swilp turned and wrinkled her nose in Bliss’s direction, her green eyes narrowing as she glanced back across the room. There was no way that Miss Swilp could know that Bliss had not received an invitation and yet Bliss could sense her feelings of superiority across the room. “Sarah Swilp has received one.”
“I can’t imagine that even Lady Perse can find her a husband. Perhaps she cannot resist a challenge.” Angela smiled at her own words.
And then it hit her; Bliss turned and stared at her friend. Angela had been bursting with happiness when she’d first spoken. “You received one also, didn’t you, Angel?”
Silence.
Angela’s voice dropped. “Yes, I think I may have been the first. I didn’t want to tell you until you received yours. I was so sure you were going to. You are always part of everything.”
That was because she always demanded to be part of everything and who would refuse the daughter of the Duke of Mirth? People might laugh behind her father’s back, but never to his face. Nobody would refuse him, and so nobody would refuse her.
Raising her head, Bliss glanced across the room to where Lady Perse stood surrounded by cronies, her eagle eyes picking out each lady who had received one of her invites. Lady Perse’s gaze fell upon Angela, and a soft smile lifted the thin lips and the gray eyes warmed beneath the white fluff of hair that resembled a cat asleep upon her head—and then her gaze landed upon Bliss.
For a moment she smiled—she had always been kind to Bliss—but then her lips thinned as if an unpleasant taste had filled her mouth.
Bliss could feel Lady Perse consider her deep rose gown, much too deep in color for one so young, the skirts forming a bell far more exaggerated than any other in the room. Bliss knew the dress was extreme, but it was so perfect for twirling, the skirts skimming about like a flower, but never rising above her ankles no matter how fast the dance. That was one mistake Bliss never intended to make again.
Lady Perse clearly did not see the sense of the design. Her eyes glided up Bliss’s body until their eyes met.
Lady Perse gave one sharp shake of her head, her eyes narrowed, her rejection clear.
Evidently there was one person who could refuse Bliss.
The boulder crashed down, almost bringing Bliss to her knees.
And then she stiffened. She’d never let public opinion bring her down before, and she would not allow the opinion of one old woman sway her, even if that woman was Lady Perse.
“I need to dance,” she said, turning back to Angela. “Fast and then faster. I want to spin until I cannot stand.”
“Bliss…”
She ignored the concern in her friend’s tone and turned into the crowd. She would find a man, any man, and flirt and dance until her feet ached. She would not think of the future, she would not.
—
She was looking for trouble. As usual.
From the moment he’d arrived at the ball and discovered she was here, Duldon’s attention had been consumed by Bliss, consumed by her lush curves contained in the tight pink gown, consumed by the soft glint of her corn silk hair in the light of the hundred candles, consumed with the carefree smile that couldn’t quite hide the shadows in her eyes. He drew in a deep breath as he watched those eyes flit over the gathering, looking, seeking.
A deep sigh. He hadn’t yet even greeted his aunt. Duty must be attended to before he could begin his own search—for the attention of certain delicate blonde.
He smiled as he observed Bliss rise on her toes as her eyes continued to wander—and then he frowned. He knew that furrow of brow far too well. He’d first seen it when Bliss was six and her father had told her she couldn’t have a cat because he wanted to raise rabbits and was afraid the cat might eat them. Bliss had nodded her agreement and come home with a puppy, one that grew to be the size of a small cow. She’d stared up at her father with just that narrowing of lips and glare of eyes, daring anybody to put the pup out.
The duke had merely shrugged. Swanston might have sent the pup away if he’d been at home, but he’d been in London. Duldon, feeling the man at the grand age of fourteen, had considered removing the pup himself, but he’d never been able to resist that stubborn vulnerability, that look that dared the world while begging for affection.
He hadn’t been able to resist it then, and he doubted he could now.
Only he had to.
He intended to marry the girl and nothing was going to stand in his way. Nothing—not even Bliss herself.
Not even overhearing the minx call him Dull-Don. He’d heard it from her before and it always brought a smile to his lips. He wondered what she’d say if she knew the truth of how he had spent the earlier portion of the evening. He’d seen her gaze run over him on more than one occasion, seen the look that let him know she found him pleasing. Bliss might never admit it, not even to herself, but he knew she found him far from dull.
He smiled again, although only the barest crook of a lip made it to his mouth. Society might say many things if his full life, his full interests, were ever revealed, but he doubted “dull” would be among them.
Indulging himself, he allowed his eyes to follow Bliss as she slipped through the crowd. Her dress was dreadful, but then most often they were. He’d heard her give expert advice to others on fashion, so why did the chit insist on choosing the worst patterns for herself, dresses that hid every hint of her feminine shape? The dark rose monstrosity looked like she’d stepped into the middle of a molded aspic, the slick silk glistening like gelatin. And it moved the same way, disguising the graceful motion of her body.
Watching, he saw her approach a young man, stopping a few feet from him and shooting him an inviting glance with her deep blue eyes. The man, Lord Paul, he thought, blushed, and then as if moving under a spell held out his arm and led her toward the dance floor.
Bliss took a step forward, standing several inches too close to Lord Paul and peering up at him from beneath lowered lashes.
Duldon felt his palms begin to tingle.
Yes, the girl was looking for trouble and if she wasn’t careful she just might find it.
He sighed inwardly. He’d warned more than one young gentleman away from Bliss and by the end of this night it might be time to warn another.
His eyes swept about the room. Lord Dunston was busy flirting with one of Blankmore’s daughters. Mr. Middleham was at the punch bowl. Lord Temple—Lord Temple was staring at Bliss with a little too much fervor in his gaze. It might be time to have another chat with the man. He did seem to be about far too often for it to be merely coincidence.
Bliss was his.
She might not be ready to admit it, but she would soon.
She’d given herself to his care when she’d asked him to marry her and he’d never forgotten it. She might have been twelve at the time and convinced that marriage would gain her his best racer, but from that moment on she’d been his, his to protect, his to care for, his to…
When she’d been twelve and he twenty the feelings had been protective and brotherly.
They might still be protective, but there was nothing brotherly about them now, and hadn’t been for several years.
Bliss reached out and brushed something from Lord Paul’s cheek as the dance began.
Duldon slammed a palm hard against his thigh.
No, he was not dull and soon he’d be demonstrating to Miss Danser just how mistaken she’d been. He might never reveal his true inclinations to her, but that didn’t mean she would not know his displeasure.
Chapter Two
It wasn’t working. No matter how fast she spun, how fast she twirled, Lady Perse’s glance of disapproval stayed with her. And it wasn’t as if she could twirl in every dance. Most young ladies longed for waltzes, but Bliss dreaded them. They were so slow and required her to place far too much of her attention upon her companion. She was trying to forget about men, not…
Maybe that was where her plan had gone wrong. She shouldn’t be trying to forget about men, she should be trying to find one, to find the right one. She needed a man who was interesting, but not too interesting, a man who would leave her to be herself and place few demands upon her, a man who would be happy with her wealth and name and want nothing else. That was what she needed in a husband.
And how was a girl supposed to find a husband if she didn’t pay attention to the men about her? No, from now on she would consider each one carefully.
She glanced up at her companion, slightly surprised to find she was dancing with Lord Temple. How had that happened? She was normally more careful; he did have a habit of appearing far more often than she was comfortable with. The man had long fingers that reminded her of snakes in a bucket and like snakes they had a habit of slipping into places they did not belong. And he liked to pinch, and pinch hard. She never danced with him if she could help it. Just how distracted had she been?