I've Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm (The Lords of Worth) (27 page)

Gisele laughed softly and he held out his elbow. Her fingers curled around his forearm. “Lead the way, Mr. Montcrief,” she said, and he heard the determination in her voice. “Let’s go and create a scandal the likes of which London has never seen.”

Chapter 27

G
isele entered the ballroom on Jamie’s arm and immediately there were whispers. She almost laughed at the sheer lunacy of it. A woman who had faked her death and stolen a fortune in diamonds, on the arm of a penniless, illegitimate ex-cavalry captain, and they were the most talked-about couple in London society.

Gisele caught sight of the Duke of Worth, standing just inside the ballroom entrance welcoming his guests. Even behind his simple black mask, his height and dark coloring set him apart. And if there was any further doubt, he was looking around at the ballroom with boyish delight at the stunning greenery and ribbons and flowers and twinkling lights as though he couldn’t believe that he had pulled it off. Or rather, that his staff had pulled it off.

“Mr. Montcrief!” the Duke of Worth exclaimed, catching sight of Jamie and Gisele. He clapped a hand on Jamie’s back, beaming. “I almost didn’t believe it when I was informed you were to be married. I had no idea. And a love match at that! Congratulations!” His attention focused on Gisele. “And this, I must believe, is the beautiful woman who has made the captain here a very happy man.”

Gisele extended her hand, and Worth took it politely. “An honor to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” she said.

“Might I have the pleasure of your name?” he asked Gisele.

“Not until midnight,” said Jamie with an easy smile, drawing Gisele a little closer to him. “The intrigue will help divert attention from any unpleasantness that may still linger from yesterday and give the gossips something else to talk about.”

Worth sent Jamie a look of gratitude before a shadow passed over his face. “I just don’t understand,” he said in a low voice. “Lord Valence is acting very strangely, and Boden has dug in his heels. And it is Huston and his sisters caught in the middle, and I can’t see that they have set a foot wrong in any of this.”

“Then you’ve done a good thing here,” Jamie told the duke. “Having this ball. Standing up for what you know to be right. Standing up for the people you care for.”

The duke straightened. “Thank you, Montcrief.” His face creased into another easy grin. “Now, please, enjoy yourselves. And if you have time on the morrow, Mr. Montcrief, I would still like your opinion on that mare of mine.”

“Of course,” Jamie replied, and the duke drifted off to greet another group of guests.

“Have you seen Valence yet?” Gisele asked as they turned toward the crush of people milling before them in Breckenridge’s impressive ballroom. Her insides twisted uneasily despite her determination to remain composed.

“No. But Sebastien tells me he is indeed here. The marquess arrived with the Earl of Boden and his family.”

“Well, then at least Lady Julia’s reputation is safe for the moment.” Gisele closed her eyes, a temporary feeling of relief combating her disquiet.

“Yes.”

Gisele surveyed the swirl of color and glitter and light before her with a sense of irony. She’d been to a handful of balls just like this when she was newly Lady Valence. She’d been isolated then, watching everything at a distance, yearning to be part of the excitement. Tonight Gisele found herself again at a ball, the Marquess of Valence also in attendance, but on this night she would not be watching from the side. Four years later Gisele would get her wish. She would indeed be part of the excitement.

They’d made it not a dozen steps into the dazzling room when Malcolm joined them, flanking Gisele. Jamie had never been so relieved to have his brother at his side as he was at that moment.

“You clean up well, little brother,” Jamie said casually, even as his eyes raked the crowd around them.

“I like to think so.” Malcolm grinned at a group of young ladies who drifted by, giggling and shooting not-so-subtle glances in the duke’s direction.

“I am under the impression you are very popular tonight, Your Grace,” Gisele said dryly between them.

“But of course. Charm, wit, and dashing good looks run in the family. And since Jamie here has gone and gotten himself engaged and disappointed every daughter who aimed to take him to the altar and every widow who aimed to take him to bed, the women of London
have had to settle for me.” He leaned closer to Gisele. “And I even come with a title thrown in for good measure,” he whispered loudly. “Do you wish to reconsider your choice?”

“My thanks for your kind offer, but I am quite happy with the Montcrief I have.”

She grinned at his brother and Jamie was relieved to see it. Her grip on his arm was crushing, and Jamie knew she wasn’t nearly as at ease as she pretended. Which was probably just as well. Her apprehension would serve her well and keep her safe.

“Have you seen the man?” Jamie asked Malcolm.

“Indeed. The duchess pointed him out to me.” The teasing manner disappeared.

“And?”

“And he is skulking around the ballroom like a hunted cockroach. I am made to understand he’s barely said a word to anyone since he’s arrived. People are talking.”

“Good.” The bastard was leaving here tonight in either chains or a coffin.

“Ah, Reddyck, there you are.” The address came from just behind Malcolm, and they all turned to find a distinguished-looking gentleman with silver hair smiling pleasantly at the group.

“Havockburn,” Malcolm said with pleasure. “I did not expect to have the good fortune to see you again so soon.” He stepped forward. “Since I am sworn to keep this lovely woman’s identity a secret, at least for the next hour, please excuse my awkward lack of presentation.” He winked at Gisele. “However, I am delighted to present to you my brother, Mr. James Montcrief. James, His Grace, the Duke of Havockburn.”

The gentleman smiled and pushed his mask up off his face. “Happy to make your acquaintance, Mr. Montcrief,” he said. “And best wishes on your upcoming wedding.”

“Thank you very much, Your Grace,” Jamie said with a slight bow.

“I must confess, when I saw Reddyck, I was rather hoping you would be here with him, Mr. Montcrief. If I might impose on your time for a moment? I wish to speak to you regarding a matter of… er, a sensitive nature.”

“Of course,” Jamie said, distracted. He met his brother’s eyes over Gisele’s head and sent a silent message.

“If you would do me the honor of a dance?” Malcolm made a ridiculous bow to Gisele, and she smiled prettily, though she glanced up at Jamie in question.

Jamie nodded briefly. She would be safe enough with Malcolm for the moment. Valence wouldn’t be looking for Malcolm. Valence would be looking for Jamie.

The pair moved off to join the dancers in the center of the ballroom, and Jamie turned back to the duke.

“I understand I am in some debt to you,” Havockburn said bluntly.

Jamie started, surprised. “You have no debt to me, Your Grace.”

“Well, perhaps not me, per se, but my son. I believe he lost his head at a card game against you some nights past.”

“Ah.” Jamie understood. “You may rest assured, Your Grace, your son owes me naught. His wager has been settled in full.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gisele and Malcolm twirl by before being swallowed by the crowd of dancers again.

The silver-haired man barked a gruff laugh, though he
shook his head. “My son did not pay his wager in full as it was made, Mr. Montcrief. Your principles allowed him to walk away from that table with his honor and his pride intact. As well as his property.” The last words were spoken grimly.

“We were both young once, Your Grace, and I think we both can recall times when our judgment may not have been at its finest,” Jamie said lightly. “And besides, as I told him, I have not the means to maintain or keep such a finely matched team, nor the vehicle they were meant to pull. Owning such fine horses would have beggared me, for I wouldn’t have had the heart to sell them. He did me the favor.”

The duke gave Jamie a look that told him he didn’t believe a word. “You are still entitled to the value of his wager, Mr. Montcrief. As such, and knowing you are a superior horseman, I have brought one of my most exceptional stallions with me tonight in the hopes you will accept the animal in payment. The horse is of excellent conformation and breeding and has been raced most successfully these past three years. Indeed, it is one of the fastest horses I have ever owned.”

“While I appreciate the gesture, Your Grace, I cannot accept,” Jamie repeated stubbornly.

Havockburn shook his head. “Then we will have to agree to disagree, for—”

“Montcrief!”

Jamie’s name was almost snarled, and it interrupted the duke mid-sentence.

“I was wondering when you were going to show up here,” Valence said, shoving through the crowd and coming to stand directly in front of Jamie. The marquess
hadn’t bothered to don a mask, and even in the soft glow of the lanterns and candles, he looked pale and haggard.

“Good evening, Lord Valence,” Jamie said evenly, forcing his eyes to remain on the marquess and not dart out in the direction of the dance floor. He desperately hoped Malcolm was watching. “Is there something I can assist you with?”

“Where is she, you bastard?” the marquess hissed.

“I say, Lord Valence, are you quite all right?” Havockburn was frowning fiercely at the marquess’s rudeness.

Valence ignored the duke. “I know you have her, Montcrief. And I want her back. She belongs to me.”

“Perhaps I can get you a refreshment, Lord Valence?” Jamie asked with feigned concern. “You look a little pale.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Montcrief, except my wife.”

Jamie stared at Valence. “I have no idea what you are talking about, my lord.”

“Don’t push me too far, Montcrief,” Valence threatened. “You have no idea what I am capable of.”

“Lord Valence, calm yourself!” Havockburn was thoroughly annoyed.

“I will not calm myself,” Valence snapped. “Not when this man thinks he can steal my wife from me.”

“Lord Valence,” Havockburn said sternly, clearly trying to head off what he believed to be the makings of a duel, “Lady Julia is currently standing with her brother near the refreshment table. I can attest Mr. Montcrief has not laid an eye, much less a hand, on her. He is here with his own fiancée.”

Valence’s eyes took on a reptilian sheen. “And where might this woman be right now?”

Jamie forced himself to remain calm.
Dear God, Malcolm, look this way, please, please see what is happening
.

“Why, she is dancing with the Duke of Reddyck.”

No, no, no!
Jamie watched as Valence whipped his head around to stare at the dancers. The marquess made to move, but Jamie stepped in front of him, his eyes blazing.

“Is there something in particular you wanted with my lady?” Jamie asked.

“Get out of my way,” Valence hissed.

“I don’t believe I will,” Jamie replied. He was aware a number of people were staring now.

In a sudden movement, Valence shoved a nearby woman at Jamie and charged into the throng of dancers like a Smithfield drover. Jamie cursed, righted the woman among a number of startled screams, and set after the marquess.

He could see Malcolm’s head above the crowd, dipping in time with the music, though he couldn’t see Gisele. He hoped the duke didn’t mind blood on his polished ballroom floor. For if Valence touched a hair on Gisele’s head, he would kill the marquess where he stood.

A number of angry protests preceded Jamie as Valence pushed and shoved his way toward Malcolm. Jamie arrived just in time to see Valence crash into his brother with his shoulder, sending him staggering back. The dancers around them scattered as Valence reached for Gisele and yanked her around by her arm, grabbing for her mask.

Jamie was still three steps behind, his heart in his throat, and he was preparing to do whatever it took to stop Valence from hurting Gisele.

Except it wasn’t Gisele.

The woman’s mask fell to the floor, broken beads clattering on the wooden surface. Valence, so caught up in what was to be his moment of victory, had yet to release his captive and was hanging on for all he was worth. In a movement so fast it defied believability, the woman stomped on Valence’s instep and, as he doubled over, sent her elbow smashing into the marquess’s face with an audible crunch.