Dusk With a Dangerous Duke (3 page)

Her uncle ran two fingers over one of the tables and examined them. He made a soft disgruntled noise as he rubbed the imaginary dust from his finger.

His eyebrows lifted as he glanced in her direction. “Ah, so you have heard from him recently.”

Grace tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. “His solicitor visited last month.”

“You are referring to astute Mr. Porter, are you not?”

The duke’s tone implied that he did not think the man was astute at all.

“Mr. Porter is fully capable of conveying my wishes to the Duke of Huntsley. If you must know the truth, I am quite spoiled by His Grace’s generosity.”

She wanted for nothing except the man himself. In that instance, the duke was downright miserly, giving everyone but her his personal attention.

Her uncle extended his hand, inviting her to join him on the sofa. “You are indeed fortunate, my dear.”

She placed her hand on his and they sat down together.

“I heard gossip about Huntsley when I was in London last month.”

“You surprise me, Uncle. I would not take you as one who would pay attention to such tripe.”

His mouth thinned at her light rebuke, but it did not prevent him from sharing what he had heard. “Normally, I do not bother. However, I have discovered over the years that most of the gossip I have heard about Huntsley and his acquaintances is true. In fact, most of the stories are understated in a useless attempt to protect their families and the innocent who have the misfortune to be connected to these scurrilous gentlemen.”

Grace looked down at her hands. She doubted her uncle’s news about Huntsley was anything she wished to hear. She had deduced years ago that the gentleman took a perverse pleasure in sharing personal details about the duke that would inevitably hurt her feelings. She subtly straightened her posture and awaited the verbal blow.

“Your concern is touching, but unnecessary,” she said, offering him a faint smile. “I may be sheltered here at Frethwell Hall, but the London gossip does make its way out to the country.”

Any hope that her uncle would drop the subject was dashed at his next words. “I only intended to share good news. Rumor has it that Huntsley has parted ways with his latest mistress. Granted, these soiled doves only share his bed briefly, but this particular woman had managed to dig her tender hooks into the duke. Their arrangement lasted for several months, and the woman was quite devastated to lose such a flush protector.”

Protector.

Grace had grown to despise the word. She wondered how many women the Duke of Huntsley had taken as mistresses over the years. Since the subject was viewed as inappropriate drawing room conversation, she was not well versed in the rules of engagement. For instance, how did one go about procuring a mistress? And once the gentleman tired of the relationship, how did he end it? Did the duke send Mr. Porter to deliver the unfortunate news to the poor woman?

Her silence seemed to please her uncle. He had come to stir the pot of mischief by revealing the sordid nature of her betrothed, and he had succeeded. Grace could have pinched herself for falling for her uncle’s predictable ruse. She raised her chin and met his gaze to prove that his news had not upset her as he had hoped. When she was alone, she could allow herself to cry.

“Is it wrong for me to pity the scorned woman, Uncle?” she inquired. “A part of me does, though her loss was inevitable. As you know, my twenty-first birthday approaches, and the time has come for the Duke of Huntsley to clean house if he plans on honoring the marriage pact his grandmother and my grandfather arranged.”

For the first time, the Duke of Strangham struggled with his words. He had presented her with a clear case of the Duke of Huntsley’s infidelity, and she, in turn, had praised the scoundrel for ending the affair.

“My dear, I do not believe you comprehend the man’s true nature.”

“Most brides do not,” she said, her voice hardening ever so slightly. “Otherwise, we would not be so eager to legally bind ourselves to one man.”

“And knowing this, you are still prepared to marry Huntsley?”

Grace shrugged. “An agreement was struck. I am prepared to see it through. Our family honor is at stake.”

“What if I told you that I fear Huntsley has no intention of marrying you.”

Nineteen years had passed since her marriage to the Duke of Huntsley had been arranged. As a child, the duke’s absence had not troubled her, but the woman she had become understood the implications.

The duke rejected her as his duchess.

Once she had believed him to be a man of honor. However, she suspected a marriage born out of duty made for a cold marriage bed. Besides, the Duke of Huntsley’s bed was filled with so many women, there was no room for her.

She kept her doubts to herself. To her uncle, she said, “Mr. Porter assured me that His Grace will return to Frethwell Hall before my birthday, and our marriage will take place. I assume it will be an intimate affair, but I pray you will attend.”

“Damn Porter, and to Hades with Huntsley!”

Grace gasped in surprise as her uncle seized her by the shoulders. “Your Grace!”

“See here, girl,” he said, his fingers digging into her flesh. “The Kearlys do not breed dimwits, and my encounters with you have revealed that you do possess an intellect higher than most ladies your age.”

“Thank you—”

“Silence!” he shouted, and her eyes widened at his outburst. “I have tried to reason with kindness, but I see that I must be blunt. Huntsley will never marry you. His grandmother and your stubborn grandfather foisted you off on him because your impeccable bloodlines and wealth were considered an asset to the Towers family.”

Her throat tightened as he gave her private fears a voice. “Nothing has changed.”

Her uncle gave her an incredulous look. “Everything has changed. The dowager is dead, and Huntsley has no desire to take a bride—particularly one not of his own choosing. You must face the truth, my dear niece. Huntsley has abandoned you. Even now, he scours London for a new lady to fill his empty bed. Any lady will do as long as it is not you.”

His words were so beyond cruel, Grace blindly pushed her uncle aside and rose from the sofa. Was it all true? Had Mr. Porter been lying to her all of these long years so the duke had use of her fortune? What would happen to her once she turned twenty-one and the terms of the arranged marriage went unfulfilled?

“I see that I have distressed you.” He stood and strode to her side. When he placed his hands on her, the touch was tender. “Forgive me, my child. It is a harsh truth to burden an innocent heart.”

Still in denial, Grace shook her head. “I will write Mr. Porter. No … I will write the duke directly. I will demand an audience immediately.”

“How many times have you written Huntsley over the years?” he gently countered. “How many times were you denied the courtesy of a reply?”

Too many.

Grace felt the brush of her uncle’s fingers as he pressed a handkerchief into her hand. She silently cursed, realizing she had tears on her cheeks. “I am not crying,” she muttered as she wiped away the wetness.

“Of course not, child.”

She discreetly studied her uncle as she tended to her face. Although his voice and touch had been gentle, it was the fierce triumph in his eyes that troubled her. Her grandfather’s warning that her uncle could not be trusted soothed her bruised heart.

“You are too kind, Uncle,” she said, returning his handkerchief to him. “It dismays me to disagree with you, but I believe you are wrong about the Duke of Huntsley. He will come for me.”

“And if you are wrong?”

“Then I will not marry him,” she said simply. “I will be of age, and have control over my inheritance. London’s polite society will eagerly embrace a titled heiress.”

“Not precisely, dear niece.” The Duke of Strangham’s gaunt visage hardened, emphasizing the lines time had furrowed into his flesh. “If Huntsley fails to marry you by your twenty-first birthday, then your lands and investments are placed in my hands as your only living male relative.”

She could not believe it. Why had no one told her?

Grace offered him a practiced smile. “I am no longer a child, Uncle. I can manage my own lands.”

Her steward and Mr. Porter had been offering their guidance for years. There was no reason why they could not continue to do so.

“That is not how the courts will see it,” he said pointedly. “If Huntsley cries off, you will no longer have the protection of the Towers name and influence. I am confident that the courts will see things my way. Besides, my brother would wish me to look after his daughter.”

Grace felt cornered, but she managed not to react to her uncle’s baiting. “I appreciate your generous offer. However, in the coming weeks you will see that your concern is unwarranted. The Duke of Huntsley will marry me.”

Her uncle chuckled softly and shook his head. “Foolish child. Very well, we will see this through to its humiliating end. I will visit you again.”

Grace turned away, avoiding the chaste kiss her uncle attempted to place on her cheek. “Good afternoon, Uncle. Shall I send you an invitation to the wedding?”

He gave her a pitying glance. “Huntsley is likely rutting between the fleshy thighs of his latest conquest, and you stand before me feathering your dreams with the misguided hope that the man possesses honor where you are concerned. I pray that you will be more sensible the next time we speak.”

Grace sank into the nearest chair the moment the door closed. Before she could bring her hands to her face, the door opened again.

Rosemary rushed into the room. “Well, blessed be that His Grace has finally departed. This visit was longer than the other ones. I cannot fathom how you—” Finally noting Grace’s blank expression, she put aside her diatribe on the Duke of Strangham. “You poor girl … what did your uncle say to you?”

One fact had become abundantly clear. The Duke of Huntsley could no longer protect her as her grandfather had intended. “Rosemary, tell the staff that preparations need to be made for a journey.”

The older woman stared down at her. “Where?”

“London.”

This time of year, it was perhaps unwise to visit the town while His Grace was in residence. Then again, it was the last place he would expect to find her.

The housekeeper’s jaw slackened and then snapped shut. “I thought you were waiting for the Duke of Huntsley?”

Her eyes and nostrils flared at the notion. “I have already waited nineteen years for the man. I refuse to sit here another day. The Duke of Huntsley can go to perdition. I am going to London.”

“But London. Why ever for?”

She recalled her uncle’s confidence in securing her inheritance, which in turn would guarantee her compliance. “Why else would I travel to London? I intend to secure a husband.”

And she knew just the lady who could assist her on her quest.

Chapter Three

Two weeks later, London

Grace refused to show up at Lady Netherley’s door empty-handed, so she had ordered the coachman to halt at the first flower stall or cart that he came across. Her request had extended her drive through town, but she did not mind. The weather was temperate, and she suspected the marchioness would appreciate the thoughtful gesture.

Grace also hoped the flowers would soften Lady Netherley’s disposition toward her since she was preparing to request a great boon from the lady.

The coachman found a stall not far from Covent Garden. While Grace longed to explore the market, this was not the day to do so. Another day, she promised herself. Rosemary would want to join her on such an outing as well.

“I could fetch yer posies if the sun is too strong for ye,” the gruff coachman offered when he opened the door.

“I thank you for your offer, but I have my parasol,” Grace said, though she made no attempt to open it. Instead she accepted the coachman’s hand as she stepped down from the coach. “I shall not be long.”

Since she did not want to be late for her appointment, Grace came to a decision quickly, choosing lilacs and ferns for Lady Netherley. The delicate blooms rarely lasted beyond a day, but the fragrance always managed to cheer her.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked the girl who was wrapping her flowers in paper to keep them fresh.

“I have it,” a deep masculine voice said beside her.

“A generous offer but unnecessary,” Grace said, glancing over her shoulder but what she glimpsed froze her in place. Her startled gaze locked with warm, light brown eyes that reminded her of colored glass illuminated by the morning sun. There was humor and intelligence, and something she could not quite define in those beautiful depths as he leaned forward to pay the owner of the flower stall.

“Oh … I,” she said, feeling flustered by his closeness so she focused on his dark coat sleeve as money exchanged hands.

Large hands, encased in expensive gloves. The fabric and precise fitting of his coat sleeves revealed wealth and a skilled tailor. Most impressive were the strong, muscular arms that filled out the fabric. Her mouth went dry at the thought of him turning, and those strong limbs wrapping around her, enfolding her in an embrace.

Her cheeks felt scalded by the unbidden desire to step closer and take scandalous liberties.

“A good afternoon to you both,” the girl said, slipping the coins into a pocket as she placed the wrapped flowers into Grace’s hands. With a distracted expression on her face, the girl turned to greet another patron, leaving Grace alone with the gentleman.

“Permit me to pay you for the flowers,” Grace said, uncomfortable with her unexpected reaction to this man. Nor did she require his charity. Mr. Porter had told her often enough that she was an heiress. She could have bought the entire flower stall, if that had been her desire.

Desire. A troublesome word when this man was in her presence.

“I hate to deny a lady, but alas, I must refuse,” was the man’s cheerful reply.

Grace glanced up and noticed that she was not alone in her bemusement. With a brazenness that should have frightened her, the gentleman appeared to be taking the measure of her face. There was tenderness, longing, and even regret as he contemplated the delicate line of her nose, the shallow hollows of her cheeks, and the blush that most likely added a healthy glow to her cheeks.