My Dark Duke (4 page)

The duchess's eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. ‘Alethea? You came to ask about Alethea?' She looked incredulous.

‘Yes, Your Grace.' He kept his expression impassive, even though he was quietly fuming that despite being a grown man, of his station, he still found himself in the mortifying position of having to ask Alethea's mother for permission to court her daughter. It had been a long time since he had had to do so. ‘Is Lady Alethea otherwise engaged at that time?'

The duchess blinked twice. ‘No, no,' she answered hurriedly before forcing a smile. ‘Alethea is available tomorrow afternoon, of course.'

James saw Alethea's folded hands clench, and his jaw tightened at the duchess's ‘of course', intimating that no man would be interested in her daughter. He felt an unexpected urge to defend her. But this was not the time nor the place. Not unless he wanted to cause offence and give the impression that he was smitten. Which he most certainly wasn't.

Not even a scintilla.

‘Thank you, Your Grace. I will come at five tomorrow afternoon.' He stood up, the three ladies immediately following suit. ‘I must take leave of you now. Good afternoon, Your Grace, Lady Alethea, Lady Ruth.' He bowed; the women curtsied.

As he stepped into his carriage, he couldn't deny his feelings any further. He was looking forward to seeing Alethea tomorrow. To holding an actual conversation with her and being able to look into her dark eyes while they spoke. He suddenly realised that he was smiling. It was a good thing Cole wasn't present. He would have had a very hearty laugh at James's expense. He could just hear his friend now. The Dark Duke smiling? Surely it must be love.

Our Hero and Heroine Have a Scintillating Conversation

‘Papa!' Alethea hurried across the small salon, beaming as she stood on her tiptoes and exchanged a kiss with her father.

‘Alethea, my dear. Let me have a look at you. Have you grown taller since I left five days ago?'

‘Oh Papa,' laughed Alethea. ‘You've been saying that since I was a small child. You know
very
well that I stopped growing years ago.' She linked her arm with his and they walked to the long settee together and sat down. ‘I am glad to be an adult, but I must admit to a certain sadness that I am your precious little girl no longer.' She gave the duke a rueful look.

‘Alethea, you will always, always be my precious little girl. I can promise you that. Even when you have children of your own, you will still be my little girl.' He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

She blinked back the tears that had formed. ‘Oh, Papa. Tell me, how is Marcus?'

He gave her a gentle smile. ‘He is well, busy helping the tenants repair their roofs after the storm last week. I helped him as much as I could while I was there, but I'm no longer as young as I was.'

Her mother's voice interrupted them. ‘Darling, have you told your father about your little engagement tomorrow afternoon?'

Father and daughter looked up to see the Duchess of Alton walk into the salon, dressed in a wine-coloured silk gown, diamonds glittering at her throat and ears, her powdered hair piled up high atop her head.

‘Are you going out, Mother?'

‘Yes, I am attending a small soiree hosted by the Marchioness of Kentbridge.'

‘Lady Kentbridge? Really, Mother?' Alethea rolled her eyes.

‘Is there something I should be aware of?' The duke's brow knitted into a frown.

‘Oh, Mother is poking about to see if Lord Bentley is in fact as interested in Charlotte as he appeared to be at Uncle Arthur's ball last night.'

‘Alethea!' Victoria Sinclair looked highly annoyed.

Her father spoke. ‘Victoria, this is Charlotte's first season. She's not even eighteen yet, for God's sake. Let her enjoy herself before you have her leg-shackled and raising five children.'

‘
Enjoy herself?
' The duchess gave her husband an incredulous look. ‘I hope you are jesting, Sinclair. Or do you wish Charlotte to end up like Alethea?'

The duke's expression darkened. ‘Woman, hold your tongue. Alethea does not have to marry if she is not of a mind to. She is perfectly happy as she is.'

‘Are you, Alethea?' Her mother's eyes drilled into her as Alethea remained silent.

Her father's eyebrows drew together. ‘Alethea? Are you not happy, sweetheart?'

She tried to smile. ‘Oh Papa, of course I am. There is nothing I lack. I'm very happy.'

‘Sinclair, I have told you this many times now, but you persist in ignoring me. It is past time Alethea marries and has a family of her own. Why, if she had taken my advice and married Hall, she would have a brood of children by now.'

Alethea looked away from her parents' gazes. ‘I couldn't marry Lord Hall, Mother. I did not have any feelings toward him.'

‘The feelings will grow after the marriage. Love is not an essential ingredient for marriage, Alethea, as I have told you time and time again. Real life is nothing like the romantic ideal you have read in your novels.' The duchess sighed. ‘In any case, that is all in the past, so let us not dwell on that any longer.'

Alethea's eyes widened in surprise. Her mother adored dwelling on things, to the point of making Alethea wish for death via lightning strike or some other supernatural event.

‘Alethea has been invited for a curricle drive with none other than Trent,' declared the duchess.

‘Trent?' The duke looked startled. ‘Trent asked Alethea out for a drive? I wasn't aware that he had even met her.'

‘They met last night, at the Mulgraves' ball. I must admit that I, too, was rather surprised when he called earlier today.'

Alethea's father frowned. ‘Victoria, are you not concerned? You have heard the rumours, surely.'

‘Oh, I'm sure there's hardly any truth to them. You know how people love to exaggerate,' the duchess replied, waving her hand dismissively.

Alethea's father shook his head. ‘Alethea, you
are
aware that you do not have to go on this ride with Trent if you don't wish to do so. Despite what your mother says.' He gave his wife a pointed look, which she ignored.

‘I know, Papa, but I do want to.' And she did, much more than she dared admit to herself. Ever since his invitation, her stomach had been filled with the wild flutter of a multitude of butterflies. So much so that she wasn't sure how she was going to sleep tonight. The moment their eyes met, she had felt a shiver travel up her spine. And she was
not
at
all
a fanciful woman.

The duke raised his eyebrows at her reply. ‘All right. I trust your judgement, my dear. But do be careful.'

‘Oh, for goodness sake, Sinclair. They will be in full view of everyone. What do you imagine could happen?'

‘You forget, my dear, that I managed to steal a kiss from you in the very same park three decades ago now,' retorted the duke in a mild tone.

Alethea watched, amazed, as colour rode high on her mother's cheeks, apparent even under the powder. The older woman gasped in embarrassment. ‘Charles!'

The duke opened his mouth, very likely about to tease his wife further, but to her obvious relief, the butler chose that moment to announce that dinner was served. As they walked towards the dining room, Alethea's father said one last thing to her. ‘Just be on guard, Alethea. Trent is nothing if not ruthless.'

‘I will be fine, Papa; please don't worry.' She did not doubt she would be able to protect herself from Trent, if she was required to. But who would protect her from herself?

Alethea was a tangle of wrecked nerves by the time the grandfather clock tolled five times. It was almost a relief when she heard Thompson announce the duke. One more minute and she might have been forced to strangle her mother, who had spent an intolerable period of time reminding her daughter of the proper way to behave in the company of a gentleman, as if she were some naïve, inexperienced girl instead of the mature young woman she knew herself to be.

Her breath suddenly stilled in her chest, because the door opened and there he was.

The Duke of Trent stood before her, as impeccably dressed as he had been on the previous two occasions that she had seen him. Today he was dressed in a rich, dark brown coat, under which was a cream-coloured waistcoat embroidered with
fleur-de-lis
patterns in the same dark brown as his coat. A white cravat lay in perfect folds at his throat and black boots polished to a high shine drew the eye, while under his left arm was a tricorn, and a black cane dangled from the fingers of the same arm.

He was magnificent.

Before today, she would not have thought the word could be used to describe a man. And yet it seemed oddly befitting.

‘Your Grace, Lady Alethea.' Trent bowed and Alethea curtsied in response.

‘Your Grace,' she murmured, hearing the breathless quality in her voice.

He turned, focusing his dark gaze on her, and she had to suppress a shiver at the tingle of awareness that ran through her. Her lips parted slightly and she saw his eyes narrow.

‘Lady Alethea, if you are ready, perhaps we should depart before it becomes too crowded?'

‘Yes, of course. Mother, I will see you in a short while,' she said, turning to her parent, who was watching them with speculative eyes.

‘Your Grace, you will take a care, won't you?' No-one could mistake the tone in the duchess's voice as anything other than a warning.

Alethea felt heat blossom in her cheeks at the indignity of the situation. She stared in wonder as the duke inclined his head gracefully despite the question.

‘Of course, Your Grace. I will return Lady Alethea to you in precisely the condition she is now in. You have my word.' She blinked. Had he just said what she thought he said? The duke left her no time to ruminate on the actual meaning of his words. He turned towards her, extending his arm. ‘Shall we?'

Alethea wordlessly took his arm and together they walked out of the small salon, leaving her mother staring after them.

As the duke's sleek black curricle conveyed them in the direction of Hyde Park, Alethea surreptitiously looked over at him. He handled the reins with confidence and almost careless grace, whilst his attention was divided between driving and their surroundings. The black tricorn covered his head, casting a shadow over his face, although that did not prevent her from admiring the strong line of his jaw and the strength of his profile.

Trent made no move to break the silence that had begun since they left her home. As the minutes stretched on, Alethea felt the tension between them build to a level where she actually felt her folded hands tighten on her lap.
Oh, fiend seize it
. It appeared that it was up to her to say something. It was either that or scream. And that would not do.

‘The weather is fine today.'

There was a pause before the duke glanced across at her. ‘Yes, it's unseasonably warm for this time of the year.'

Silence reigned again. Alethea took a breath. ‘Perhaps there will be some rain soon.'

‘Perhaps.'

Alethea didn't dare look at the man beside her. All she could think of was that she had
fallen
on him. And then there had been the almost-kiss. At least, she thought he had been about to kiss her. Perhaps he hadn't. How in the blazes would she know? She had never been kissed before. She bit her lip as yet another uncomfortable silence fell between them. What did one talk about with a man one had almost flattened? A duke, no less. Not to mention one who was rather, well, luscious. She frowned. Or was that what men said about women? She had a feeling it was an expression she had learnt from Marcus. Never mind, at least she hadn't uttered it aloud.

The duke's voice interrupted her rambling thoughts. ‘I hear your father has returned to town. Is he well?'

Well, hallelujah.
He actually asked her a question of his own volition. ‘Yes, he's very well.'

‘Your . . . mother appears well.' His tone was stilted, unlike the smoothly warm baritone she had heard just two nights ago.

Alethea bit back a smile. She found it oddly comforting to know that one of the highest peers of the realm, whom she knew for a fact was not bacon-brained, was as ill at ease in this current situation as she was. ‘Yes, she is. And before you ask, Your Grace, my sister, my brother, my brother's wife, my niece, and the chambermaid, Milly, are all well.'

There was a stunned moment of silence and then Trent emitted a low chuckle, the sound making a shiver run down her spine. ‘Well, Lady Alethea, you have certainly caught me out on my inability to conduct a scintillating conversation. Nevertheless, I am pleased to hear that your entire family is well, including your chambermaid Milly.'

Alethea lifted laughing eyes to meet his. ‘As am I.'

‘Much as it pains me to say this, as I am thoroughly enjoying your smile, we are about to enter Hyde Park. I can guarantee that we will be quite the centre of attention. And for that, I do apologise.'

She blinked, feeling a surge of warmth at the compliment, even if it had been partially hidden. As their curricle entered the park, it joined the large number of carriages, curricles and barouches that were either travelling along or halted on the side. As Trent had predicted, they were the cynosure of many eyes. Alethea managed to smile and nod at the members of the
beau monde
that she recognised. She schooled her face in a pleasant expression, acting as if there was nothing unusual at all about her being seen in the company of the duke.

‘So tell me, how is it that you came about your grasp of Latin?' They were now travelling at almost a snail's pace with the line of conveyances in front of them, so he was able to look at her when he spoke.

‘My brother, Marcus, was given the best tutors in Latin and French, as well as mathematics, history and science. We are close in age, so I would attend his lessons. I am very fortunate that my father was different from other fathers. He encouraged me to pursue my love of languages, so much so that when Marcus attended Oxford, I continued to be given French, Latin and Italian lessons.' She gave him a glance, conscious of not wanting to appear the coquette. ‘I was very much the better student in languages. My brother still likes to remind me of how dismal I was in my understanding and practice of mathematics and science.'

‘My performance in scientific studies was severely lacking as well, although I did do somewhat better in mathematics. Well enough that I am able to ensure that I am not being bled dry by my estate manager.'

‘I must admit I am glad that there is no need for me to worry about such things,' replied Alethea. ‘I am sure I am about to sound like an empty-headed female with no thought except for which gown I should put on next, but trust me when I say that mathematics and I are mortal enemies.'

‘You are indeed the last person I would describe as empty-headed, but I will do my best to keep you away from any sort of numbers,' the duke replied and she looked up to see amusement on his face. It softened his hard features, making him appear even more pleasing than he already did. Oh dear, was this how it felt to be besotted with someone? ‘And speaking of gowns, may I say that you look most fetching this afternoon.'

She felt a blush warm her face. ‘Thank you, Your Grace.' She was extraordinarily glad she had decided on wearing her new pink and cream striped carriage gown, over which she had draped a lace fichu, held in place with an understated brooch.

‘I particularly like the hat,' he continued. ‘It . . . suits you.' She gazed up at him in some wonderment at the faint look of discomfiture on his countenance. He quickly broke eye contact, turning back to look ahead. She followed suit, a melting warmth spreading through her at the thought that he had appeared uncomfortable when he had given her that compliment. He didn't seem to be the sort who would flatter someone. With his position and wealth, there was no need to. And this made his compliments all the more precious.