Dusk With a Dangerous Duke (4 page)

He was truly the most handsome man Grace had ever encountered.

Her throat tightened with warring emotions.

The gentleman gestured toward the street. “Is that your coach?”

“Yes, it is.”

Grace avoided meeting the stranger’s gaze out of fear that he might become emboldened by her interest. The instinctive gesture disconcerted her, causing her to freeze midstep. It was then that it occurred to her that she had spent most of her life discouraging her admirers because she was betrothed to the Duke of Huntsley.

It was a habit she intended to discard immediately.

Especially when staring at such a beautiful man gave her a sense of power and pleasure. She raised her chin, and was not surprised that her companion had no qualms when it came to staring at
her.
He had been patiently waiting for her to acknowledge him, and his polite smile widened into genuine delight that her admiration was undisguised.

Good grief, he was tall. And mightily handsome. From beneath the brim of his hat, those amazing light brown eyes shimmered and glinted like gold in the sunshine. His face was without blemish, but his strong features marked him as a seasoned gentleman. She doubted she had ever behaved so brazenly with a complete stranger, let alone a man.

“Will you permit me the pleasure of escorting you to your coach?”

Grace glanced in the direction of the coach, and she saw that the coachman had also noticed the stranger’s open interest in his mistress. She shook her head, signaling to the servant that all was well. She highly doubted the man would accost her on the street when there were so many pedestrians about.

“Yes,” she said, discovering her tongue felt thick in her mouth. No man had stirred such a response from her before. It was a novel experience. “I would like that.”

Out of courtesy, he offered her his arm, and she placed her hand on his sleeve. The strength she felt beneath her gloved fingers suddenly made her awkward and shy. She paused again after a few steps. “Did I thank you for the flowers?”

“No,” he said, sounding unconcerned by her rudeness. “You were too busy trying to reimburse me for the flowers.”

Grace winced at her uncharacteristically ungracious behavior. “Then please accept my sincere gratitude. My friend will appreciate them.”

The dark-haired gentleman with the easy smile shook his head. “Generous and beautiful,” he marveled. “What would you say if I returned to the stall and bought you a bouquet as well?”

Grace clutched Lady Netherley’s lilacs to her chest. No gentleman had ever brought her flowers. If she had accepted such a sweet token, she would have plucked a few blooms and pressed them in her favorite book of poetry.

It was with heavy regret in her heart that she shook her head. “I could not impose on you further, sir. Nevertheless, I thank you for the thought.”

They had reached the side of her coach. There was no reason for them to continue their light flirtation. The coachman had his hand on the open door and was sizing up her male companion as if he expected trouble from the gentleman.

“Step aside, Yer Lordship,” the coachman said, deciding his mistress was too young and foolish not to recognize a fortune hunter when she encountered one. “My lady has appointments to keep.”

There was nothing more to say. “Ah, yes … I must go. Thank you again for the flowers.”

“It is not too late for me to procure a bouquet for you,” he said, giving her an excuse to linger if she chose to accept.

“I’ll take these, milady,” the coachman said, relieving her of the flowers and practically pushing her into the coach. Once he was satisfied that she was settled, he handed her the wrapped bouquet.

“I wish—” She stopped herself before she said something foolish. A lady did not flirt with strangers on the street. Besides, it was unfair to lead this man astray when she needed to settle matters with the Duke of Huntsley. “I really must leave. My friend is expecting me.”

The gentleman startled her by grasping her hand. He brought it to his lips and gallantly brushed a kiss against her knuckles. She felt the heat of his lips even through her kid gloves.

“Farewell, my beauty,” he said, his voice rough with regret before he released her hand. “Perhaps fate will be merciful and bring us together again.”

The coachman deliberately snapped his whip in the gentleman’s direction, forcing the man to leap backward to avoid the stinging lash.

The coach lurched forward, drowning out the gentleman’s curses. With her heart weighted with regret, she raised her hand in farewell as she wondered if she would encounter him again.

Grace could not explain the tears that suddenly stung her eyes. She was behaving foolishly. She had just met the gentleman. No one fell in love after a brief flirtation over a bouquet of flowers!

Then why did she want to order the coachman to halt so she could return to the handsome stranger and allow him to purchase her the flowers she so desperately wanted to accept?

*   *   *

The tip of the coachman’s whip had struck his hand.
Wily old bastard,
Hunter thought uncharitably as he rubbed the sting from his flesh. So he had bought flowers for a beautiful woman. That was no reason to lash a gent over a harmless flirtation.

Purchasing the flowers had been an impulsive gesture on his part. The blonde had looked troubled as her gaze drifted over the buckets stuffed with flowers; he had wondered if she did not possess the funds to pay for her purchase. He had wanted to do something to make her smile, and she had rewarded him handsomely.

It had been enough.

Or it should have been. In truth, he had been smitten even before he had glimpsed her face. There was something about the lady that had called to him. Something buried deep in his chest. He absently rubbed the spot over his heart, wishing they had had more time.

It was for the best.

The feeling of loss would pass. If he had desired more from the lady, Hunter would have charmed her into revealing her name so he could see her again. However, his days of flirting with inappropriate females were coming to an end. The sad blonde would have to seek out another gent for comfort. He had a bride to claim.

*   *   *

“The weather is too agreeable to remain indoors, do you not agree?”

Grace turned her head away from the attractive view of Lord and Lady Netherley’s town garden to address the elderly marchioness. They were seated at a linen-draped round table one of the servants had procured at her request.

“Indeed, my lady,” she said, returning to the table to join her hostess. “Since my arrival, I have been so busy with dress fittings and other tasks that I have missed my daily outdoor walks.”

“And I daresay that you need a little more excitement than taking refreshments with an old woman,” Lady Netherley said, her knowing expression daring her to protest. “This will simply not do, and you are fortunate to have come to me first. After all, my connections in the
ton
are noteworthy. I would not be exaggerating to say that I know everyone.”

“Of this, I have no doubt,” murmured Grace, though her response was unnecessary. The elderly marchioness was fully capable of carrying on both sides of the conversation without any assistance from her.

The older woman clasped her hands together with enthusiasm. “Once you have settled into your residence, I would encourage you to tour London’s numerous parks and pleasure gardens. If you would prefer, I could arrange an outing with my daughter and daughter-in-law. My girls are slightly older, but I am certain they would be preferable companions rather than spending all of your afternoons with an old fossil like me.”

“Nonsense,” Grace countered with polite sincerity. “While I will enjoy meeting more of your family, you have the distinct honor of being the first friend that I have made in London. You will soon discover that I do not neglect my friends. Besides, it’s rare these days for me to encounter someone who knew my grandfather. Sitting here with you makes me feel closer to him. Does that make any sense, or am I rambling?”

Lady Netherley’s eyes glowed with pleasure and approval. “You are a treasure, Lady Grace. Sir Auden would be proud of the lady you have become.”

The older woman’s praise summoned unexpected tears. Grace weakly smiled at her companion. “Your certainty shames me, Lady Netherley.”

“How so, dear?”

Grace picked up her glass of lemonade and took a sip to moisten her dry throat. “Perhaps I should clarify the reasons that have brought me to London.” She sipped her lemonade, taking a moment to enjoy the cool tartness. “If you were a friend of my grandfather’s, then you are aware of the numerous losses he endured … my parents … his wife.”

Lady Netherley’s face softened with sympathy. “I am. If I had not been distracted by my own troubles, I might have been a better friend.”

“Over the years, I have read his papers and journals, my lady. Despite the distance, he valued your friendship.”

“Thank you, my dear. It is kind of you to ease my guilt. Even so, I blame myself for allowing our friendship to wither when your grandfather was alive. The least I can do is look after his granddaughter.”

“Your generosity is overwhelming, Lady Netherley,” Grace said, a single tear slipping down her cheek.

The marchioness handed her a handkerchief edged with lace. “There, there. Take this and dry your cheeks. Whatever has brought you to London cannot be insurmountable. I will naturally assist you where I am able, and then there is Hunter.”

Grace quieted at the name, clutching the handkerchief in her fist. “Hunter?”

“Why, yes. His Grace, the Duke of Huntsley,” the older woman said, sounding mildly surprised. “My friendship with his grandmother goes back to when we were both young ladies, but it’s not as if your arranged marriage to Hunter was made in secret. The news even reached London that summer.”

So the duke was called Hunter by his friends. It dismayed her to realize how little she knew of the gentleman she was supposed to marry.

Grace lowered her gaze to her lap. “I suspect the Duke of Huntsley will be displeased when he learns that I have traveled to London.”

The marchioness made a soft noise of disbelief. “What rubbish! Hunter is a sensible man. There is a wedding to plan, and there is a new wardrobe to consider—” Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. The marchioness clapped her hands together in her excitement. “That is it! You and Hunter are planning to wed in town this season. Of course! It is the perfect setting where family and friends can join in the festivities. And the dear boy never said a word … the scoundrel!”

Grace studiously admired the lace edges of the handkerchief in her grasp. “The duke is unaware of my arrival, my lady. In fact, he will likely view my presence in town as defiance.”

“Defiance?” Lady Netherley said weakly. “Hunter is a reasonable gentleman. Even he would agree that you need a proper wardrobe for London.”

Perhaps it had been a mistake to approach the marchioness. Grace sighed. “My wardrobe is the least of his concerns, my lady.”

The older woman was disappointed by the news. “Then you have not come to ask my assistance with your wedding.”

“Not exactly,” Grace said, lifting her gaze and meeting the marchioness’s puzzled stare. “I’ve come to ask your help in ending this betrothal. I wish to sever all ties to the Duke of Huntsley.”

Lady Netherley was struck speechless by Grace’s declaration. Her mouth parted in amazement and her spine lost some of its aristocratic starch as her back sagged against the back of her chair.

Grace left her seat to kneel in front of the older woman. Gently, she clasped her hand. “Forgive me, I did not mean to upset you. If you wish, I will summon the servant. I did not consider that you might count the duke as one of your friends—”

The marchioness silenced Grace’s protests with a dismissive wave of her other hand.

“Oh, do not fret. I am quite well, thank you,” Lady Netherley assured her. “So if you manage to free yourself from your arranged marriage, what do you intend to do with your newfound freedom?”

Grace took a sip of her lemonade to wet her dry throat. “This is precisely why I seek your advice, my lady. I have traveled to London in search of a husband.”

“Oh good heavens!” Lady Netherley blurted out at Grace’s declaration. “Why do you need me to find you a husband when you have a perfectly respectable match arranged?”

“I have it on good authority that His Grace has no interest in honoring the contract,” she confessed.

“I do not believe it,” the marchioness protested, her voice strengthening with her annoyance. “Despite appearances, Hunter would never dishonor the memory of his grandmother in such a manner. He made a promise to take you as wife, and by all that is holy I will see to it that he does right by you.”

“No.”

“Good! Then we will—uh, no, you say?” The marchioness called out for her servant. When the man appeared, she said, “Would you be so kind as to bring me my smelling salts?”

Grace glanced warily at her elderly companion. “Lady Netherley?”

The marchioness was in no mood to be coddled. “Do not mind me, child. I have a feeling one of us will need them before our visit has concluded. Now let me see if I understand all of this. You do not wish to marry Hunter.”

“What I desire no longer matters,” Grace argued. “The Duke of Huntsley has had nineteen years to fulfill the terms of the contract. Do you realize that in all these years, he has never once called on me at Frethwell Hall? Does this sound like the action of an honorable man who intends to do his duty by marrying me? I think not. I could pass him on Bond Street and he would not recognize me.”

“But you still wish to marry?”

“Yes. However, it must take place before my twenty-first birthday.”

“We have mere weeks to find you a husband,” the marchioness mildly protested.

The servant returned with the smelling salts, and she murmured her appreciation as she grasped the small amethyst bottle in her delicate hand.

Sensing she could sway the marchioness, Grace leaned forward. “I am the daughter of a duke and an heiress. Surely, someone with your extraordinary connections could find me a respectable gentleman who is eager to settle down?”