Ducal Encounters 03 - Portrait of a Duke (18 page)

“Happy to oblige,” Nate replied, grinning.

The double doors opened and Faraday stood on the threshold, clearing his throat. All heads turned in his direction.

“Mr. Trafford, Mr. Trafford, Miss Trafford and Miss Ash, Your Grace.”

He stood back, and the party entered the room. Vince’s gaze immediately fixed upon Nia, who was on her brother’s arm. At least he assumed it was she. He inhaled sharply, scarcely recognising the transformation that had taken place in the grubby gardener from the day before. Tonight she wore a gown of emerald green, reinforcing Vince’s conviction that emeralds were the only jewels that would be right for her. There was a visible underskirt beneath the gown of a lighter shade of green, fashioned from what he thought must be sarsnet. Growing up with a fashion conscious mother and two sisters, he had learned more about ladies’ apparel than had ever been his intention.

The bust line of Nia’s gown was low, giving Vince a graphic idea of the treasures concealed beneath it. Quite without his permission, his gaze lingered on her décolletage and his breeches suddenly felt too tight. God forbid that she, or anyone else, should notice his physical reaction! Crystal beads decorated the bodice and short sleeves of Nia’s gown, but Vince’s knowledge of feminine attire failed him when he attempted to name the lace flounces that trimmed her hemline. Her hair had been tamed into a fashionable waterfall of shimmering curls, held in place with a tortoiseshell clip. Her cheeks were rosy pink and those temptingly plump lips of hers were shiny and moist, crying out for the kiss he had been deprived of delivering the previous day.

She levelled a cool gaze in his direction, but looked away again almost immediately. Vince felt no inclination to follow her example and continued to look exclusively at her until Zach, still standing beside him, gave him a sharp nudge in the ribs.

“Miss Ash is playing up her role,” Zach remarked in an amused undertone.

And so she was. In figure-hugging scarlet silk, she deferred to the duchess with decorum that belied her attire. Her poise hinted at being accustomed to meeting people from all walks of life and not feeling intimidated by them or their opinions of her. Vince wondered if, through her choice of gown, she was trying to make some sort of obscure point. People had preconceived ideas about her, and she tried not to disappoint.

“How is your grandfather this evening?” Vince asked Nia as they shook hands.

“You don’t need to worry about him, my lord. He is having another good day. He rested for a long time this afternoon, so ought to see the evening through without embarrassing anyone.”

Vince glanced at the old gentleman and could see for himself that his eyes were bright and clear. “That was not my purpose in asking the question. I was thinking more of your enjoyment. You will not relax, I suspect, unless you are sure your grandfather is comfortable being with us.”

She sighed. “I’m sorry, Lord Vincent. That was unpardonably rude of me. You have gone out of your way to be of service to my family and I cannot seem to find a civil tongue in my head. Please forgive me.”

“There is absolutely nothing to forgive,” Vince replied, taking two glasses of champagne from the tray Faraday proffered and handing one to her. “Unlike mine, your life is not one of idleness and dissipation.”

She took a sip of champagne, and choked on it when his words registered with her. “I cannot believe you expect me to believe you live that way.”

“But it is what you think of me.” He sent her a taunting smile. “Part of you is intrigued, at least in regard to the dissipation, which infuriates you because you want very much to disapprove of what you see in me.”

She arched a brow, hiding the lower half of her face behind her raised glass. “Do not suppose to know what I think, Lord Vincent.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Even if you were not, I should never admit it. Allow me a little mystique, if you please.”

“Anything you desire, you have but to say the word.”

She clearly realised he was referring to their almost-kiss and blushed. “There is nothing you have that I personally require.”

“You really should not have said that,” he replied softly.

She blinked up at him. “Why ever not?”

“Because I cannot resist a challenge.” He shrugged. “It is a family failing.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“What is wrong with being competitive?” he asked innocently, speaking in a smoky, provocative tone that was anything but innocent.

“Are you flirting with me, Lord Vincent?”

“I believe I am, Miss Trafford.”

“Well, please don’t. If you feel the need to flirt, I will gladly excuse you so that you can converse with Sophia. I am sure she will oblige you
and
give you a good run for your money. Unlike me, she knows how these games are played.”

“Then where would the fun be in that?”

She didn’t answer him. Instead she glanced towards Sophia, who was in conversation with his mother, while her grandfather’s attention had been claimed by Amos. “You can relax, Nia. Everyone is comfortable.” He paused. “Everyone except for you. I wonder why that is.”

“You may wonder all you wish.” Her eyes sparkled as she levelled them upon his face and responded to him with lively playfulness. “I have not the slightest intention of enlightening you.”

“Are you absolutely sure about that?”

She shook her head, setting her curls dancing around her face, but remained silent.

“What is it?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”

“Believe me, Lord Vincent, it would be a great deal better if you did not know.”

His lips quirked. “I am not afraid of your thoughts.”

“Very well then.” She focused her entire attention upon him, the light of battle shining from her eyes. “Since you insist upon knowing, I was wondering if anyone has ever told you how insufferably arrogant you can seem at times.” She was clearly doing her very best to appear severe, but a tiny smile slipped past her guard, spoiling the effect.

“Quite a few jealous husbands,” he replied, grinning.

“I should only be surprised if that were not the case.”

“Because you have already formed an opinion of my behaviour that is entirely without foundation.”

She huffed indignantly. “How can it be without foundation when you have just admitted that you dally with other men’s wives?”

“I admitted no such thing. I merely suggested that I might have invoked husbands’ jealousies. I did not say their reactions were justified. It is hardly my fault if they cannot keep proper control of their wives.”

This time she did manage to look disapproving. “I don’t think I like you very much, Lord Vincent.”

He lifted one finger and placed it gently against her lips; removing it again almost immediately. “Yes you do,” he said, in a soft, melodious tone. “You may not want to, but you can’t help yourself.”

“Definitely arrogant,” she muttered with less conviction than previously.

“Go with your instincts, Nia,” he added in an undertone. “I promise not to bite.”

“Go to the devil!”

He roared with laughter, attracting curious glances from others in the room. “I very likely shall.”

Vince sobered when she appeared on the point of walking away from him. That could not be allowed to happen. He was almost sure she was enjoying their lively exchange as much as he was. He admired the way she stood up to him and gave as good as she got. But enough was enough—for the time being. Rather than lose her, he changed the subject, moving their conversation onto safer ground.

“What is your grandfather doing?” he asked.

Nia turned her head abruptly, tension radiating through her body. Then she smiled and he sensed it drain out of her again. “He obviously remembers he is to paint the duke’s portrait. Good, I am glad that did not slip his mind.”

“But if you only just told him, and he is having a lucid day—”

“Means nothing. Grandpapa has perfect recall about things that happened before I was born. You will discover that for yourself later since I dare say he will insist upon telling the most outrageously exaggerated stories.” She shook her head, a tiny smile playing about her lips. “There is no help for that, I’m afraid.”

“I, on the other hand, am not in the least afraid. I look forward to hearing what he has to say for himself. It might teach me more about you.”

“But, you see, even on good days, if you ask Grandpapa what was said to him half an hour ago, he would be hard-pressed to answer you.” She sighed. “I am told that is not uncommon for people with Grandpapa’s affliction. Short-term memory is the first thing to go.”

“I am sorry, Nia. It must be very hard for you.”

“I did not tell you in order to invoke your sympathy. And to answer your original question, Grandpapa is observing the duke’s profile from all angles, committing his features to memory. Amazingly, he will not forget them. The mysteries of the human brain never fail to astonish me. However, I am willing to wager that at some point during this evening, Grandpapa will call for paper and dash off a sketch of his grace without again looking at him, and it will bear a remarkable likeness.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes, I cannot recall a time when Grandpapa has not done random sketches. We have had to persuade him not to sign them because he always gives them away and the recipients sell them for a lot of money simply because—”

“Because they bear his signature.” Vince sighed. “Does absolutely everyone take advantage of his good nature?”

She spread her hands. “Sometimes it seems that way.”

Faraday appeared in the open doorway and announced dinner.

“May I have the pleasure?” Vince proffered his arm but Nia seemed reluctant to accept him as an escort. “My mother and your grandfather are going in together,” he pointed out. “Your brother is escorting my sister, Amos is escorting his wife, and my brother Nate is taking care of Sophia.” Vince bit back a smile. Nate was the youngest of the four boys, still earning his spurs in many respects—respects that Sophia would have recognised. Vince wasn’t the least bit surprised to notice his interest in a lady of Sophia’s persuasion. “And Zach is escorting Lady St. John. So, I am afraid you’re stuck with me, Nia.”

“How tiresome.”

But she was smiling when she finally placed her hand on his sleeve.

Nia felt a little dizzy as she walked into the sumptuous dining room on Lord Vincent’s arm. Her light-headedness had nothing to do with the effects of the champagne and everything to do with the intoxicating presence of the elegant predator escorting her into dinner. A hungry alpha male, stalking his prey and then toying with his catch before moving in for…for what precisely?

Why he chose to amuse himself with someone as unfashionable as her truly baffled Nia. Lord Vincent, she felt perfectly sure, never needed to look far for sophisticated female companionship. Perhaps being at home in Winchester restricted his hunting ground. She happened to be there, available, and had told him she had no expectations of matrimony. Dear God, did he imagine she was cut from the same cloth as Sophia and had made that admission to indicate her availability? She felt hot and cold all over when that possibility occurred to her. But now that she
had
thought of it, she was unable to imagine why he would not have misinterpreted her candour and decided to act upon it. The living arrangements in their household were rather unorthodox,
and
she and Sophia were staunch friends.

Now that she understood what drove him, Nia was unsure whether to be flattered or insulted. And what action could she expect him to take if she permitted that misconception to continue unchecked? She felt heat invade her face, and a tingle of anticipation trickle down her spine. Was she actually considering playing him at his own game?

Dare she?

How matters developed between them was up to her because, obviously, she was in complete control of the situation, and of her impulses. She absolutely was!

“What is so amusing?” he asked as he held her chair for her.

Damnation, she had not realised he was watching her quite so closely and had observed her wide smile as the foolish, unrealistic nature of her thoughts took hold. To even contemplate pitting her wits against such a master of seduction was extreme folly. She must be sickening for something. It was the only explanation that would account for such giddy contemplation. Nia sighed, thinking it exceedingly unfair that close proximity to Lord Vincent rendered her incapable of rational thought. Infuriatingly, he appeared to be in complete control of himself; insufferable man! Nia glanced around, frantically looking for something, anything, to explain her smile. He was already far too sure of himself and did not need to know the truth.

“I was wondering if Lord Nathaniel knows quite what he has let himself in for,” she said hastily, watching Sophia working her magic on the youngest Sheridan male. Lord Nathaniel seemed totally absorbed by her. She felt the dark weight of Lord Vincent’s gaze burning into her profile and inwardly groaned. By drawing attention to Sophia’s overt flirting, she had probably just reinforced Lord Vincent’s impression of her.

“Ah, I see.” His sculpted lips curved upwards as he waited for her to arrange her skirts to her satisfaction before taking the chair beside her. “That would explain it.”

She hadn’t deceived him for one moment, Nia realised. The task she had set herself to bring him down a peg or two would not be easily achieved, but he was not the only person in the room who did not back away from a challenge. If he continued to stalk her she would remain still, allowed herself to be captured, and then turn the tables on him by declining his advances. Yes, that was what he would do. She owed it to womankind in general to make him aware that not all of her sex were rendered helpless with desire if he deigned to focus his quite disgusting charm in her direction.

A frisson of awareness warmed her body. He would be a dangerous person to play mind games—or any other type of game—with. Perversely, she also felt perfectly safe with him. To a degree. Endeavouring to untangle her thoughts and feelings was so confusing that a headache threatened. All she knew was that the rebellious side of her character didn’t want to feel safe. In the spirit of private honesty, she was also willing to concede that her proposed course of action was not entirely selfless. Lord Vincent, all lithe muscle and graceful coordination, with his not entirely civilized male aura and cynical view of the world, had turned her meticulously planned existence on its head. Her curiosity was piqued; always a dangerous sign.