My Dark Duke (12 page)

‘I do not believe he is the violent sort, Marcus. I would have sensed it by now.'

Her brother looked at her, his expression grim. At that moment he looked nothing like his usual smiling, carefree self. Despite herself, she experienced a feeling of apprehension. ‘Don't be naïve, Thea. There is violence in everyone, and it only takes a certain situation for that violence to emerge. Do not think that just because he is charming and kind, he is harmless. He has been the Duke of Trent since he was twenty-two. I would not be surprised if his wealth and holdings surpass ours. It takes immense intelligence, willpower and a certain ruthlessness to amass such power and wealth as Trent has. Do not fall for his wiles.'

She swallowed. ‘Are you telling me to stay away from him?' She wasn't sure if that was even possible.

At her question, Marcus's jaw relaxed. ‘No, you are old enough to make your own decisions, Alethea. I just ask that you be attentive and take a care.'

Alethea felt the tension drain out of her body. ‘I will.'

Her brother smiled. ‘Good. Now, where is the footman? Ah, there you are, Brown, my good man. Beef, eggs and ale if you please. Aunt, you don't mind do you?' He grinned when she smiled and shook her head. ‘I do hope your pantry is fully stocked, Aunt. All this lord of the manor business has made me incredibly famished.'

‘So, why did you not write me about Trent?' Marcus's tone was conversational as they strolled about the Pump Room, her hand on his arm.

‘I was worried about what you would think. I know I am no great beauty and I am much older than a bride would usually be. Especially when everyone knows he needs an heir. I understand his brother has no interest in succeeding him.'

‘Any man would be honoured to have you as a wife, Alethea. And yes, I am concerned about Trent's intentions towards you, but you know you can speak to me about anything. I am your brother, after all.'

She threw him an apologetic look. ‘I know, and I am sorry. I didn't want you to advise me to cease seeing him because, the truth is, I am afraid I have been silly enough to form an attachment to him.'

The marquess frowned. To her relief, he neither scolded nor censured her. ‘It is difficult for a rational mind to dictate what one's heart desires. Or to fathom why one's heart does as it does.'

‘I have never felt like this before,' she admitted.

‘If it is a hundredth what I feel for Marie-Helene, then you are fortunate. Or perhaps cursed. Both, I think.' He met her eyes. ‘I pray that he feels the same for you. Loving someone who does not love you in return must be wretched indeed. I am fortunate that I never had to experience it.'

Alethea was about to reply when she saw him stiffen. Even without turning around, she knew that Trent had arrived. The now-familiar feeling of intense awareness which made every nerve in her body stand at high alert made her tense. She slowly turned around to face him. The duke looked at her, his face and eyes inscrutable. For some reason, though, she felt that underneath his impassive facade lay immense turbulence. Violent and unpredictable turbulence. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

‘Lady Alethea.' Trent bowed and she curtsied.

‘Your Grace.'

The duke's eyes were hard and cold as they landed on Marcus. She had never seen him like this and for the first time she was beginning to understand what Henry and her brother had been trying to tell her.

‘Your Grace, this is my brother, Marcus, the Marquess of Ashbourne. He is in Bath to visit my aunt.'

Though she could sense the turbulence fading, Trent's unreadable expression remained the same. ‘Ashbourne.'

‘Trent.' Marcus's tone was curt. Alethea knew that he was studying the duke, trying to gauge his intentions towards her. ‘Are you in Bath to take the waters?'

‘No, I have no need for health restoratives. I am here to see my new purchase in Queen Square. It was an opportunity too good to miss.'

‘Is that where you are residing while in town?' asked Alethea.

‘No, it is still being refurbished. The previous owner had taken a rather unfortunate liking to black-and-white striped wallpaper. Wealth seldom indicates taste.' Trent inclined his head. ‘I'm sure many members of the
beau monde
would say the same of me.'

Alethea privately disagreed, but it would have been inappropriate to say so in the presence of her brother. She thought the duke looked very well indeed in his black coat, black breeches and forest-green waistcoat.

‘How is your aunt, Lady Alethea?' asked Trent.

‘She is quite well. I think living in Bath has proved extremely beneficial to her health.'

‘That is pleasing to hear.'

There was an awkward silence as Alethea stood there, watching the two men size each other up. What her brother uttered next made her gasp.

‘Trent, I don't know what your intentions are towards my sister, but if they are anything less than honourable, I swear I will come after you.'

‘Marcus!' Alethea had never felt so mortified. She could feel the eyes of the visitors around them.

‘It's fine,' Trent said to her. To her surprise, he didn't appear angered by Marcus's threat. ‘You have my word that I have nothing but the utmost respect for Lady Alethea. I would fall on my own sword rather than cause her dishonour.'

She held her breath as her brother gazed at the duke with narrowed eyes. After a long moment, the tension drained out of his shoulders. ‘I believe you. But be warned, if Alethea is hurt in any way, you will regret it.'

Trent smiled and inclined his head. ‘I have been suitably warned.'

Marcus was silent for a moment before he finally spoke. ‘I will go and fetch some of that miraculous water that everyone has been bathing in to see if it is still as horrible as it used to taste. I shall return shortly.'

After he departed, the couple stood there without speaking while music played around them and the loud buzz of conversation assaulted their ears.

Finally, the duke spoke. ‘Your journey to Bath was comfortable, I trust?'

‘Yes, it was. And yours?' Her tone was polite. She struggled to make conversation when all the while the only thing in her mind was the memory of being in the conservatory, his fingers unfastening her glove with almost unbearable slowness.

‘The ride was pleasant if somewhat dusty. I understand it has been unseasonably dry.' His dark eyes held hers captive and, yet again, she couldn't seem to breathe. It would not do for her to faint now, in front of a hundred and one pairs of curious eyes. She didn't need to hear to know that they were the main topic of conversation. ‘You should stop looking at me like that unless you want me to kiss you in front of everyone present.' His voice was low and pleasant, as if he had continued to converse about the weather. Only his eyes burnt with suppressed desire.

Alethea gulped quietly and pulled herself together. It took a tremendous effort. ‘I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I will try not to . . . look at you in such a way in the future.' This was an outright lie. She didn't even
know
how she was looking at him.

He smiled faintly. ‘That would be much appreciated. If only to prevent injury caused by the stampede of people trying to catch a view of us. I'm afraid I am engaged with my solicitor tomorrow; however, my friends and I propose to visit the cathedral in Wells on Friday, and I was wondering if perhaps you would like to accompany us.'

Elation soared through her. He wanted to see her again. ‘I have always wanted to visit the town. It is some distance away, is it not?'

‘It is not too far. Some two hours by carriage. We will be able to make it there and back easily within a day. Would you care to bring a companion, perhaps someone from your aunt's household?'

If there had been any way at all to avoid having a chaperone, she would have done so. She wanted him all to herself. ‘Thank you, Your Grace, I will.'

‘In that case, perhaps we could call at your aunt's residence at eleven on Thursday, in order that you might all become acquainted.'

‘Of course.' Alethea sighed in resignation when she spied her brother's return. ‘Wonderful,' she muttered. ‘Here I was hoping he would be considerate enough to forget my share of water. He had to choose today to act the loving sibling.'

‘Perhaps it is best you took some of the water. You will need all your wits about you when we travel on Friday,' murmured the duke.

Alethea lifted startled eyes to his teasing ones. Oh dear. It looked as if she was going to need Marcus's share of water as well. Whatever was she letting herself in for?

An Exciting Adventure is had by our Intrepid Travellers

Friday dawned bright and clear and despite retiring late the evening before, Alethea was awake as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. The previous day, as promised, Trent had introduced her aunt, Letty and herself to his friends, Mr and Mrs Edward Collier. Mr Collier was the son of the previous duke's steward, and the two boys had grown up together. Alethea was not surprised to hear from Mr Collier that it was due to the duke's influence and financial assistance that Mr Collier was able to establish a business selling wallpaper and drapery. Trent tried to deny the extent of his involvement, but Alethea knew from his friend's appreciative words that the duke had indeed done a great deal. It only served to underline to her that he was a man of good character and a loyal friend.

After a leisurely breakfast in her room consisting mainly of bread and marmalade and almost an entire pot of tea, it was time to dress. She finally settled on a pale green gown with a modest neckline and a green-and-white striped skirt, trimmed with lace at the sleeves, which ended at the elbows. She asked Lucy, her aunt's maid, not to bother with a complicated coiffure, and so the maid coiled her hair up into a simple knot and secured it with hairpins.

Thankfully, Letty and her aunt were still abed when Trent arrived. She had no wish to engage in small talk after anticipating this outing with him for two nights and one whole day. She felt rather silly, actually. After all, she was five and twenty, not a young girl who had just had her coming out and still had stars in her eyes. And he was far from her first suitor. It was true that she had found none of her previous suitors a suitable candidate for marriage, but she had been courted by almost all of them. She was not new at this game. Yet she had never felt a fraction of the feelings the duke roused in her for any other man she had met.

‘My lady, the Duke of Trent has arrived,' announced her aunt's butler.

Her heart in her throat, Alethea stepped out into the foyer. ‘Your Grace.' She curtsied and Trent bowed in reply.

‘My lady.' She felt as if his dark eyes were staring into her very soul. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from a long way away. ‘Are you ready to depart?'

She gave him a brilliant smile. Was she ready for a whole day to be spent in his company? ‘Absolutely. Oh, I almost forgot. My aunt's maid, Lucy, will be accompanying me. Letty has a bad cold and my maid, Martha, must visit the tooth-drawer.'

Lucy curtsied when Trent turned to look at her.

‘Come,' said the duke. ‘My carriage is waiting.'

The journey was uneventful and Alethea and Trent spent the majority of it discussing the current gossip about town and discovering each other's likes and dislikes. The duke, it seemed, had a penchant for chocolate bonbons, which made Alethea fall into a fit of giggles. When he assumed a look of affront, she admitted that it was because she couldn't imagine him having a weakness for anything, much less for a sweet. His retort was to inform her that he in fact had only two weaknesses, one for the chocolate confectionary and the other for ladies who fell off ladders. And only for one lady in particular. She had blushed then, both at that statement and at the look in his eyes.

Arriving at Wells, they lost no time in taking a tour of the cathedral and admiring the clock. Later, after their tour, they strolled through the grounds surrounding the Bishop's Palace, where the bishops of Bath and Wells resided. Mr Collier, Mrs Collier and Lucy were further behind, having lingered to admire the view of the cathedral.

‘Did you enjoy yourself?' Trent smiled at her.

‘Very much. The cathedral is a most impressive architectural work. Thank you for taking me, Your Grace. I must admit I never expected to be given a personal tour of the cathedral by a bishop.'

‘Bishop Brendon has long been a friend of the family. Did you know that the bishops' residence was constructed in the beginning of the thirteenth century? It even has a working moat. See, over there?'

‘That is old indeed. Oh look at the swans!' Alethea paused and watched with fascination as the graceful white creatures glided majestically upon the dark water.

They continued to walk towards the carriages and Alethea could not prevent a sigh of relief when they finally reached the conveyances. ‘Oh, I must admit to being glad to see your carriage.'

At his enquiring look, she explained. ‘It was most unwise of me, but we retired very late last night, after attending Lady Forde's musicale.' She looked towards the cathedral and could only just make out the tiny figures of their companions. An idea struck, but she hesitated. She knew it was risky, but oh, it was so very tempting.

‘Is something the matter?' Trent was nothing if not perceptive.

‘I was wondering,' Alethea said slowly, ‘if we could leave first? The Colliers and Lucy are still some way off. Perhaps your friends could bring Lucy back to Bath.' Yes, it was completely against social conventions, but she wanted to be alone with him. Alethea held her breath as Trent regarded her in silence. His expression was unrevealing and she had no idea what he was thinking.
Please, say yes.

It felt like an eternity before he finally inclined his head in agreement and her heart leapt with excitement. After informing the driver of the other coach of their plans, he helped her into the carriage and sat down beside her. Then, without further ado, he rapped the handle of his cane on the roof.

‘Are you comfortable?' he asked solicitously as the carriage set off.

‘Thank you, yes. Your carriage is extremely well appointed.'

He followed her line of sight and smiled. ‘You're referring to the fur blanket?'

She nodded, returning his smile. ‘It is a warm midsummer's day.'

‘I like to be prepared for all contingencies. You never know when there could be inclement weather. We do live in England, after all.'

‘Well, that explains the blanket, but what is in the basket?'

‘Why am I not surprised that you are a curious sort?' The duke reached over and picked up the large basket. Resting it on his lap, he removed the cloth. ‘I thought it prudent to bring along some refreshments. Bread, wine, a variety of cheeses, grapes and peaches. In case you are suddenly overcome by thirst or hunger.'

‘Overcome? Me? Your Grace, a lady is never overcome by any bodily urges, much less hunger.'

Trent's mouth twitched. ‘I am impressed. I had no idea that suppressing your natural . . . desires was part of a young lady's deportment training.'

Alethea's eyes narrowed. His pause had been deliberate. ‘Fortunately for you, I had a very strict governess and an exacting parent. Otherwise that perfectly tied cravat of yours would be in disarray now.'

‘Oh?' Laughter danced wickedly in his eyes. ‘Am I to fear for my virtue then?'

Alethea laughed. ‘You speak as though you have some virtue left. No, I just have an overwhelming urge to see you dishevelled in some form. You are so immaculately turned out every time we meet.'

‘No virtue? I am crushed by your opinion of me, my lady.' The duke's mouth was curved in a smile. ‘My valet is half French. He is a deuced pain, but I cannot fault his taste. You approve of my attire, then?' He was teasing again.

She gave him a chastising look. ‘You look very well in that shade of grey, Your Grace, as you well know.' In fact, he looked extraordinarily well in his dove-grey silk jacket. It was teamed with a black silk embroidered waistcoat which showcased some of the most exquisite Oriental embroidery she had ever seen. Silver geese in varying shades of silver appeared to be mid-flight, in the midst of the greens and blues of the trees, the pale pink of the flowers and the dark grey of the river flowing beneath. It was difficult to tear her eyes away from the sumptuous scene.

‘You look very well too, my lady.' He placed the basket back on the opposite seat. ‘In fact, I should say that you look extraordinarily lovely today.'

She blushed. Although his tone was light, his eyes were frankly admiring. Not knowing what to say, she sought to change the subject. ‘Had you been to Wells before today?'

‘Yes, once, a long time ago.' To her surprise, his expression became shuttered, as if he had withdrawn into himself.

‘Were you . . . with someone?' Her voice was tentative. Perhaps he had been with his wife. In any case, it was too late to withdraw her earlier question.

Trent was silent for a while, his eyes no longer on her, but staring into space. She had thought he had decided not to reply when he spoke, startling her. ‘I was with my mother. It was the last time we went on an outing together. After that she fell ill, and was unable to travel any longer. She passed on some eight months later.' His jaw was hard, the pain he felt still palpable.

‘I am so very sorry,' she said softly. Unable to help herself, she reached out and covered the hand that was resting on his thigh with hers.

He slowly looked down at their joined hands, and then closed his fingers around hers. ‘It's been eight years, and I still miss her dreadfully.'

‘What was she like?' She almost couldn't believe that he was sharing his thoughts with her.

‘She was beautiful. A diamond of the first order in her time. Witty, charming and the most gentle soul you could ever imagine. And then she married my father.' He fell silent.

Alethea didn't probe. Nor did she remove her hand from his clasp. She knew it was utterly improper, but she didn't care about social conventions at that very moment. She almost jumped when he turned and looked directly into her eyes.

‘I need you to know something. My father was not a good man. He hurt my mother when she did nothing but love him.' His eyes were turbulent and his mouth was strained. ‘That same blood runs in my veins. So if you do not wish to see me again, all you need to do is tell me.'

If only she could. It was much, much too late for that. She tried to smile, but it was a dismal attempt. ‘You will need to do much more than that if your intention is to scare me away.'

‘I am not jesting, Lady Alethea.' His tone was abrupt and deliberately hard, but it mattered not to her. His face was as immovable as stone, and yet she could somehow sense that her answer was important to him.

She reached up and gently cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. ‘Your father's blood may run in your veins, but you are not your father.'

Something flashed in his eyes, but it was gone before she could decipher the emotion. ‘You have barely spent any time with me. You cannot know that.'

‘I do know. You are a good man. I know it in my heart.'

Trent shook his head in denial. ‘You should not trust something as fickle as that.'

It was the voice of someone who had been betrayed by that same organ. Her voice was soft when she replied. ‘You are correct, no doubt. Still, I would like to make my own choice.'

He closed his eyes and started to turn his head, as if he was about to put his mouth to the palm of her hand, then stopped. With his free hand, he took her hand away from his cheek and lifted her other hand, so that he was holding her hands between them. ‘You should stay away from me.' He said this without looking at her, his gaze trained upon their clasped hands.

‘Do you want me to?' She held her breath as she waited for his answer.

The duke finally looked up and met her eyes. ‘That is an impossible question to which I cannot presume an answer.'

She didn't know whether to be pleased or frustrated at his evasiveness. ‘That is no real answer.'
Tell me what you want.

‘The truth in this case will not set you free.'

Alethea frowned as he released her hands. What did he mean by that? But she was not able to ponder the question any further as Trent reached over and pulled out a bunch of grapes from the basket.

He broke off a cluster for her and she accepted. ‘Come, let us discuss another subject. One that is less weighty.'

‘Of course.' She was more than willing to follow his lead, unsure of what to make of their recent conversation. It seemed that even if he were attracted to her physically, he might not be as willing in spirit. The thought hurt more than she had expected it to.

‘Tell me about your brother. Is he always like a terrier with a bone when it comes to you?'

Alethea smiled faintly. ‘Always. He is extremely protective. I pray you took no offence at his behaviour at our last meeting.'

Trent shrugged. ‘I can understand his actions. I would do the same if I had a sister.' He grimaced. ‘In truth, I hope I am never blessed with daughters. I will be forced to send them off to a convent for their own protection and they would spend the rest of their lives cursing me, putting their souls in mortal danger.'

Alethea couldn't help laughing. His dry wit, genuine observation though it was, was utterly charming. She succumbed to it willingly. ‘Oh, I do hope that you are blessed with many daughters. That will be your penance for being such a wickedly charming rogue.'

The duke lifted an eyebrow, embodying that exact description. ‘Wickedly charming you say? Please do elaborate.'

‘Oh, no, no. I have no wish to puff up your already gigantic sense of self-regard. Besides, I thought we were discussing my brother.' She popped a grape into her mouth.

‘Of course.' Trent smiled. His voice was politely conversational when he spoke. ‘And how great is
his
sense of self-regard?'

They had been travelling for almost an hour when rain started to fall, at first lightly, but then gradually more heavily, until the raindrops were deafeningly loud against the roof of the carriage. When Alethea looked over at the duke, she saw that he was frowning as he gazed out of the window.

Sensing her gaze upon him, he turned towards her. ‘If the rain continues to pelt down like this, we may encounter some difficulties travelling back to Bath.'