Dusk With a Dangerous Duke (12 page)

Lady Grace had noticed him as well. The young woman abruptly grew silent, and her shoulders stiffened at his approach. The female servant had noticed him, too. She moved in front of her charge before he had reached them.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” Hunter said, cradling his flower bouquets in his left arm while he tipped his hat and bowed. “I see you have a fondness for beasts.”

Lady Grace stared blankly at him. “I—I beg your pardon?”

His confidence rose in the face of her befuddled state. He often had this effect on young ladies, which was one of the reasons why he tried to avoid ballrooms and matchmakers. Normally, he just excused himself and headed for the nearest card room or sent his apologies to his host before his hasty departure. For some reason, it pleased him that his presence muddled his duchess’s tongue.

“I was referring to the monkey.” To the owner, Hunter asked, “Does the creature bite?”

“Only those he doesn’t like, milord,” was the man’s hoarse reply. He reached into a pocket and retrieved a small nut. “As I was saying, would you care to feed him, miss?”

The question gave her an excuse to dismiss him. “Yes. Yes, I would, if you do not mind.”

Hunter liked the sound of her voice. It did not have the nasal quality that his last mistress had. Those melodious tones carried a hint of sophistication that seemed at odds with her youth.

The man with the monkey placed a small nut in her gloved hand. “Mind? The rascal practically begs me for a treat every few minutes. You will be doing me a favor if you feed him for me.”

The man winked at Hunter, inviting him to share in the jest. He concluded that this was not the first pretty lady his pet had lured to his side.

Lady Grace glanced warily at the monkey, who was staring at the nut between her fingers with keen interest. The beast knew what came next, and he was literally bobbing up and down with excitement.

“Have a care, my girl,” her female companion murmured, not wanting to startle the animal into biting her charge.

“Here you go, little one,” Lady Grace said as she held up her offering. “Is this what you want?”

The monkey moved quickly and plucked the nut from her fingers. Startled by its speed, she gasped. The sound caused the animal to jump over the old man’s head to land on the opposite shoulder.

Believing it was a trick, several people around them applauded. Lady Grace reddened in embarrassment as her chaperone laughed.

“I suspect the beast is more frightened of you than you are of him.”

She wrinkled her nose and smiled. “I suppose so.”

As if to prove the chaperone wrong, the monkey jumped again, this time leaping onto Lady Grace’s slender shoulder. She took a step back to balance her stance, but her composure was remarkable. Most ladies would have been screaming their heads off by now.

“I see he likes you.” The old man grinned at her. He did not make any attempt to retrieve his pet.

The monkey indeed seemed to be enjoying his new perch. It sniffed her bonnet and took a tentative bite. Satisfied it was inedible, it circled once before clapping its tiny paws together.

“Is he … does he want another nut?” Lady Grace asked, turning her face away to avoid being scratched.

Her servant was less polite about the situation. “Do not just stand there. Retrieve your filthy beast before it gives my lady fleas!”

“Tom does not have fleas!” the owner yelled back. “He likes to play in his bath.”

“You named your monkey Tom? What a ridiculous name.” For no reason at all, Hunter found the notion hilarious. And then the second admission sank in. “Uh, Tom takes baths with you?”

The old man gave Hunter a withering look. “Not always. He often insists on taking one on his own.”

Hunter and several other men could not contain their laughter. Meanwhile, Tom had definitely taken a liking to his new friend. The creature had curled its tail around the blonde’s neck as it inspected the decorations on her bonnet.

“He’s a marvelous beast,” the young woman said, infusing enough cheer that Hunter almost believed her if she did not have a small animal eating her hat. “Perhaps you should take him, good sir. I do not wish to frighten him.”

“Do not fret, little miss. Tom is a good judge of character,” the owner assured her.

Hunter decided to step in and rescue his brave lady. “With your permission?”

Green eyes as mysterious as a warm sea met his. “Please” was her faint reply.

Hunter merely grunted, pushing his wrapped bouquets into a stranger’s hands. “Hold this.” He gently untangled the monkey from its lovely perch. Both the animal and its owner chattered at him, but he ignored them. “There, there … almost done.” He handed the excited animal back to its owner. “Your beast is unharmed.”

The elderly man dug into his pocket for a nut. “Here you go, Tom. I have plenty more.”

“You’re lucky my lady wasn’t bitten.” The fire was back in the dragon’s eyes and mouth.

“Rosemary, please.”

Hunter was impressed that Lady Grace had managed to silence the angry woman with her soft plea.

She adjusted her bonnet and smiled at the man. “Thank you and Tom for an interesting afternoon. I have never touched a monkey before, and it was quite an experience. Good day, gentlemen.” With a glance, she indicated to her servant that she was ready to depart.

“And good day to you, young miss,” the old man called after her. “Come visit Tom again.” He glared at Hunter and gave his pet an affectionate pat.

Tom quietly chewed his nut.

Hunter’s gaze shifted back to Lady Grace, who seemed determined to disappear into the crowd without bothering to thank him for his part in rescuing her from that damn monkey. With a muttered curse on his lips, he collected his wrapped flowers and chased after the young woman and her servant.

Chapter Eleven

“Slow down,” Rosemary said, a slight catch in her breath. “It isn’t healthy to be rushing like this.”

Grace ignored her companion’s order as both her head and heart were racing. She could not believe what had just occurred. Had Hunter been following them? And then there was the monkey—could her awkward predicament have been any more humiliating? “If you wish to purchase those pineapples, we must hurry. At this time of day, there might not be any left.”

“In a rush, are we?” Hunter asked with an easy smile. He carried several bundles of what looked to be flowers in the crook of his left arm, and he slowed his pace as he closed the distance between them. “I hope the monkey did not frighten you off.”

Oh, he was a handsome scoundrel. Dangerous, too, she mused, noting the thick muscle covering his limbs. He towered over her and Rosemary, and she guessed his height to be slightly over six feet. However, it was his eyes that Grace first noticed. They were a light brown, and in the sunlight the color reminded her of a chunk of amber that was collecting dust in the library of Frethwell Hall. The shade was truly remarkable, and with his thick black eyelashes his gaze could indeed seduce a lady.

“It seemed best to take my leave before the beast devoured the rest of my bonnet,” she said, striving for practicality with a hint of humor.

Rosemary gave her an odd glance but said nothing. Grace did not blame her. Her voice sounded strange even to her ears. She could not explain her reaction to the duke’s proximity.

“Forgive me if I did not thank you properly,” she continued. “I did not mean to be rude, but we have several other calls to make this afternoon.”

A light breeze teased the bluntly cut ends of his hair that brushed against the line of his jaw. The color was a rich black without a hint of silver. How old was Hunter? He had been twelve when his grandmother had announced their betrothal. That meant he was slightly older than thirty. A seasoned gentleman, as Rosemary often remarked.

“I understand.”

He gave her an appraising look and grinned. Had he noticed that she had been staring? Of course he had. He was probably used to ladies gazing adoringly up into his beautiful amber eyes.

Grace shifted her gaze so she was staring at his shoulder. She could not get into much trouble admiring his frock coat. “I should not have stopped to admire the monkey. I just had never seen a living one before.”

His eyebrows came together in puzzlement. “Living?”

“She is referring to taxidermy, Your Grace,” Rosemary explained. “One of our neighbors has a house filled with a menagerie of stuffed beasts. Some natural and others not quite.”

Hunter appeared fascinated. “Not quite what, dear lady?”

“As God intended,” her companion replied, her eyes rolling heavenward as if waiting for
his
opinion on the subject.

Before Hunter could ask her to elaborate further, Grace interjected, “My neighbor has a sense of humor. And an artist’s touch when he works on his creations.”

“Abominations are more like it.”

Grace glared at her friend. “We will have none of that. Not everyone appreciates Arthur’s work.”

“Arthur?”

Grace took a fortifying breath before she raised her head to face the amusement in his gaze. “My neighbor,” she clarified.

Sensing her curiosity on why he appeared to be following her, Hunter got down to business. “I do not make a habit of chasing after beautiful young ladies—”

Grace exchanged knowing glances with Rosemary at the obvious falsehood.

“And I have appointments, as well,” he said, his features darkening when he stared down at the wrapped bouquets. “Or did. These are for you.”

He filled her arms with the flowers he had purchased.
Probably for another lady,
she thought furiously as she fought back the urge to toss them to the ground and stomp on them.

Before she did anything un-lady-like, she handed the bouquets to Rosemary.

“I feel inclined after your mishap with the monkey to invite you and your companions for some refreshments.”

An invitation to tea was the last thing she expected from Hunter. “A generous invitation. However, I—”

“Have appointments,” he replied, sounding irritated. “I heard you the first time. Nevertheless, you and I have much to discuss. I had planned on calling on you later to discuss our upcoming marriage, but that is—”

“Completely unnecessary,” she put in sharply. “And I must regretfully decline. I am woefully late, and must excuse myself.” Grace curtsied. “Again, you have my gratitude for your timely rescue. Good day, Your Grace.”

“I have not finished with you, my lady.”

Grace might not be familiar with all of Hunter’s moods, but she had been around enough gentlemen to recognize that particular tone most men adopted when they were about to lose their temper.

“What you fail to understand, Your Grace, is the unpleasant fact that I am finished with you.” She nodded briskly. “Again, I wish you a good day.”

She grabbed Rosemary by the arm before the woman could protest, and they continued down the walkway. Their groom trailed after them, carrying their purchases.

“Well, that was extremely rude of you,” Rosemary huffed. “The gentleman was kindly inviting us to share a table with him.”

“That
gentleman,
” Grace said, enunciating every syllable. “Is the Duke of Huntsley!”

Rosemary abruptly halted and gaped in feigned astonishment at her mistress. “A fine time to tell me. I was considering whether to keep him for myself!”

“Oh, you can have him,” Grace replied tartly. “Undoubtedly, His Grace has not allowed anything as trivial as a betrothal to prevent him from flirting with every female in London.”

*   *   *

Hunter did not pursue Lady Grace, who seemed so determined to escape his company. If he caught up to her, he would have been tempted to paddle her backside to relieve some of the frustration he was feeling.

Or kiss her.

Hunter shook his head to rid himself of the thought. No, the spirited chit needed a firm hand. Kissing Lady Grace would only lead to trouble.

Not that Hunter didn’t enjoy playing with fire.

He often sought out danger. It was one of many things he and his friends had in common. It was with some reluctance that he turned his back on the lady and her servants and retraced his steps to find his coach. Despite his initial concerns that Lady Grace needed more servants, he was satisfied that the pair she had retained would see to it that she got home safely.

An hour later, he arrived on the door step of the Sainthill residence. Over the years, he and Saint had formed a deeper bond of friendship, which he supposed was natural considering how much they had in common. Both of them were essentially orphaned at an early age. After his grandmother died, Hunter had eschewed his distant cousins. While the dowager tolerated the greedy sycophants, he had little patience for them. Saint, on the other hand, had been abandoned by his mother after the sudden death of his father. She had gone on to remarry and bear other children, but Saint was not welcome in the new family she had built with her second husband.

Not that Saint gave a damn.

Before he met his wife, Saint had been content to be alone. Hunter had felt the same way, and they had passed many evenings together while the other Lords of Vice sacrificed their freedom for the marriage bed.

Willing or not, you’re next, gent.

Hunter ignored the taunt that whispered in his ear.

“Hunter,” Catherine said, smiling with open friendliness and affection. “What a pleasant surprise! I just sent one of the servants to fetch Saint. How are you?”

“I am well.” He had purchased a bouquet of roses, larkspurs, anemones, and tulips to apologize for interrupting the couple’s afternoon, but he had given it away to Lady Grace. “I went to the market and bought you flowers. However, I lost them along the way.”

“How very careless of you,” Catherine teased. “But I hope you know you are welcome in our home with or without flowers. Saint and I consider you family.”

She touched him briefly on the arm, and then was distracted by the servant who had entered the room to announce that Saint would be joining them shortly.

Catherine’s words warmed him. Hunter took a moment to study his friend’s wife as she gave the servant instructions. The new Marchioness of Sainthill was exquisite with her golden hair arranged into a riot of curls. Her dress was the height of fashion, and the large emerald surrounded by twelve rose-cut diamonds on her left hand signified Saint’s love and fidelity to his lady.