The Duchess of Love (6 page)

Her large brown eyes flashed with temper, and it looked as if steam might come out of her ears at any moment. “You know very well what I wish to discuss. And do come here behind the hedge. Do you want to be discovered?”

“Perhaps I fear for my safety,” he said, stepping behind the vegetative screen. They were in the beginning of the maze. He'd seen it from his bedroom window, but he hadn't yet had time to explore it. “You were flinging rocks at me, after all.”

“Oh, don't be a cabbage-head.”

If he remembered correctly, the maze's center had a sizable tree that looked as if it would shield anyone under it from prying eyes very nicely. Chances were slim he could take advantage of it, but hope sprang eternal. Perhaps he could discover how she felt about him now and then steal a proper kiss before confessing his sins. “Do you know the key to this maze?”

“Of course—and don't change the subject.”

“I wouldn't think of it. Let's stroll to the center and you can show me the way of it.” He tried to take her arm, but she shook him off.

“I'm more likely to show you the way to perdition, you lying blackguard,” she said, “not that you need any directions to
that
destination.” She strode off.

He followed her, addressing her back. “Here, now, I never actually lied. I may have let you assume—”

“Let me
assume
!” She whirled around and pinned him with a venomous look before turning and continuing her brisk pace forward. Her hips swished back and forth in a very enticing manner. “You more than let me assume. I thought the whole point of this garden party was to further Ditee's match with the duke.”

“Er, yes …” He cleared his throat. What exactly were they speaking of? Best to proceed cautiously. “That is, yes, of course. I think your sister and my cousin would make an excellent match.”

“Ha!”

She walked even faster. She had long legs, but his were longer. Still, she was obviously used to walking distances in the country; he had to hurry to keep up with her.

“Is there a problem?” A stupid question. Obviously there was a problem, but for the life of him, he couldn't discern what it was.

“Yes!”

They reached the center of the maze. As he'd hoped, there was a bench underneath a splendidly leafy tree. Anyone—or two—sitting on the bench would be completely invisible to someone in the house or on the grounds. Unfortunately, even the most inveterate gambler wouldn't take odds on his chances of persuading Venus to join him for a protracted bit of lovemaking. From the sharpness of her glare, he'd be lucky to emerge with all his body parts intact.

He clasped his hands behind his back, but quickly thought better of it—that position left his tender bits too unprotected—and dropped his hands back to his sides. “I'm afraid I don't follow. Could you explain the difficulty?”

He'd never really thought looks could kill, but he might have to revise his opinion.

“Your London
friends
stopped in the village looking for you,” she said.

Damn. “Do you mean Lady Mary and Mrs. Blackburn?”

“Whom else could I mean? Little Huffington is not exactly littered with Londoners.”

“Well, I wasn't certain since I wouldn't consider them friends, precisely.”

This was the wrong thing to say. If Venus had been angry before, she was now utterly furious. He half expected her hair to transform into snakes and her eyes to shoot lightning bolts. He glanced around the clearing to be sure there weren't any other, more prosaic weapons at hand.

“Oh, no.” She spat the words as if they were some vile-tasting tonic. “They are far more than friends.”

“They are?” What the hell had those two harpies said?

“Don't try to deny it. Lady Mary told us she is betrothed to the duke.”

“She is not!” He saw red for a moment. He'd like to shake that lying jade until her teeth rattled in her head. How dare she say they were betrothed? He might—perhaps—expect her to try such a lie on poor Mrs. Edgemoor: Lady Mary wouldn't see a housekeeper as meriting any respect. But to lie to Venus …

Venus waved her hand, as if she didn't really care. “And”—now her voice started to break—“she said Mrs. Blackburn is affianced to
you
!” The last word came out on a wail.

What? But Venus had just said Lady Mary claimed to be his—oh, right, Venus thought he was Nigel.

He'd waited a fateful moment too long before stepping toward her and extending his hand. “Venus—”

She slapped his fingers away. “Don't touch me, you despicable blackguard.”

He was not used to being insulted. Anger flared in his gut. He tried to swallow it, but his voice sharpened. “Be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?!”
She swiped at her nose with her sleeve. “You want me to be reasonable?”

“At least lower your voice. You're shrieking like a fishwife.”

“What? Are you afraid everyone will discover what a disgusting, dishonorable liar you are?”

How dare she call his honor into question? If she were a man, she'd be meeting him in a duel. “I haven't lied to you.” Perhaps he'd let her assume a few things, but he'd never out and out lied.

She swiped at her face again. Didn't the girl carry a handkerchief? He reached for his.

“So you've always been completely honest with me?” She sounded just a little hopeful.

He froze, his hand still in his pocket. He wanted to say yes. If he said yes, maybe she'd calm down and let him put his arms around her and explain. Maybe they would end up on that lovely bench doing delightful things with their hands and lips.

But the truth was she thought he was Nigel.

She wasn't stupid; she saw his answer on his face. “You, you …
toad
.” She snatched up her skirts and ran.

He let her go. Catching her would only lead to more shouting. She didn't want to hear him—and, frankly, he didn't know what to say.

He sat down on the bench and dropped his head into his hands.

His life was a complete mess.

He
hadn't
lied to her; he just hadn't corrected her. She'd been naked, for God's sake. He couldn't be expected to think rationally in such a situation. It wasn't his fault she'd assumed he was Nigel.

He leaned his head back against the tree trunk. No, he should be honest with himself for once. He
had
misled her—and he'd do it again in a heartbeat. He'd wanted her to see him, not his title.

Unfortunately now all she saw was a lying rogue, and that bothered him far more than he could have imagined.

Bloody hell.

He must beg her pardon, grovel if he had to—and after their brangle just now, he'd probably have to. Today. He couldn't put it off. If she discovered his identity at the garden party tomorrow—especially with Lady Mary watching—she'd never forgive him.

It was getting late, but there were still some hours of daylight left. He'd ride over to the vicarage as soon as he left the maze.

He stood, his mind made up, and strode out of the clearing. He turned right and then right again and then—damn it, he was back in the center. Very well, he'd turn left instead. Or … left, then right. Or right, left, left …

Nothing worked. He was trapped like a rat—Venus would surely find that most appropriate.

He stood in the bloody clearing and shouted for help.

Venus never cried. Crying was a stupid waste of energy. It made her eyes ache and her head throb.

She sniffed. And her nose run, too, damn it. Of course she didn't have a handkerchief.

She stopped and took a deep, shuddery breath.

What was the matter with her? She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. Had she completely lost her mind? She'd certainly lost her temper. Mr. Valentine had been correct. She
had
sounded like a fishwife. He must be laughing at her, the silly rustic who'd fallen in love with—

Oh, God, she wasn't in love with the villain, was she?

Her knees folded, and she sat down abruptly on the grass.

She couldn't be—she'd only just met him. Yes, he was sinfully handsome with his blue eyes and wicked smile and naked—She slapped her hands over her burning cheeks.

He'd haunted her dreams, but it wasn't just his appearance that attracted her. It was everything about him. Just talking to him—arguing with him more often than not—thrilled her. She was always thinking of him, always wondering what he would say about something, how he would smile …

Bah—she'd been building air castles. All this time, he'd been betrothed to Mrs. Blackburn, who must be several years older than he. Not that it was any of her business. He could marry old Mrs. Fedderly with her blessing if he wished.

She stood up, scrubbed her hands over her face to get rid of any lingering tears, and brushed off her skirt. Enough. She must think of Ditee. She needed to tell her Lady Mary had lied: she was not betrothed to Greycliffe. Mr. Valentine had looked genuinely horrified at the notion, and no matter how slimy and disgusting he was, he couldn't be that good an actor.

It was past suppertime when she let herself into the vicarage.

“There you are,” Mrs. Shipley said. “Your mama has been asking for you.”

“Oh.” Venus sniffed and tried to smile. “I was out walking.”

“Been crying, have you?”

She ducked her head to avoid Mrs. Shipley's eyes. “Don't be ridiculous. Why would I be crying?”

“I don't know. Maybe for the same reason your sister's bawling her eyes out.”

Venus's stomach knotted. “Ditee's crying?”

“I just said so, didn't I? She's been locked in her room since she came home from the village.”

“Oh, dear. I'd best go talk to her.”

“Good. Shall I tell your mama you're home?”

“Oh, no, no need to disturb Mama. I'll just go up and see Ditee, and then I think I'll go to bed myself.”

Venus could feel Mrs. Shipley's eyes boring into her back as she went up the stairs.

She tapped on Ditee's door.

“Go away.” Ditee's voice was muffled as if she had her face buried in her pillow.

“Ditee, it's me, Venus. Let me in.”

“No. Go
away
.”

“Ditee, I spoke to Mr. Valentine.” Venus paused; she could almost feel Ditee listening. “He said the duke is not betrothed to Lady Mary, and I think he was telling the truth.”
About that at least.

Silence, and then she heard feet hurrying over the floor. The door flew open so quickly, Venus almost fell into the room.

“You're certain?” Ditee asked. Her face was blotchy and red, but she still looked beautiful.

Venus nodded. “Mr. Valentine was quite definite on the subject.”

“Oh.” Ditee stared at her for a full minute and then made an odd sound—a cross between a sob and a laugh—and threw her arms around Venus, hugging her so tightly Venus could barely breathe. “Oh, that's wonderful. Thank you so much.”

Venus hugged her back. At least one of them was happy.

 

“Sleep well?” Nigel asked as he strolled into the breakfast room.

Drew looked up from the table and considered winging his slice of ham at his cousin. “Not particularly.”

“I did,” Nigel said, filling his plate with roast beef, smoked herring, cheese, and eggs. “A clear conscience is a wonderful thing.” He sat down next to Drew. “I'm going to tell Aphrodite that I'm not the duke at the garden party today.”

“I see.” Drew stared at Nigel's breakfast and then looked at his own food. What had possessed him to select this nauseating collection of items? He wasn't the least bit hungry. He pushed the plate away and took a sip of coffee.

He'd meant to tell Venus yesterday who he was, but it had taken a good half hour to get free of the maze. After Bugden had rescued him—and told him the key so he wouldn't get trapped again—he'd dragged Drew off to see how he'd fixed the caterpillar catastrophe. While Drew was talking to Bugden, Mrs. Edgemoor appeared and begged him to come see if he thought the music room now looked too bare. He'd gone with her and assured her it was fine, but then she'd wondered if she should get the duke's opinion at which point he confessed
he
was the duke. That revelation caused her to scream and throw her apron over her head.

By the time he'd got Mrs. Edgemoor's ruffled feathers smoothed and had convinced her the whole scheme had been a harmless, pointless male joke, it had been time for supper. He hadn't been about to further upset her feelings by skipping the meal. Unfortunately, Cook had had an issue in the kitchen, so supper had been delayed, and once they finally finished eating, the light was gone. There was no moon; he wasn't familiar with the terrain; and, really, what would Venus's parents have said if he showed up at their front door so late? So he hadn't gone.

He'd been haunted all night by bizarre dreams of towering hedges, vicious caterpillars, and a beautiful, very naked Venus constantly running away from him. He'd woken painfully aroused, completely exhausted, and deeply depressed.

He was in serious trouble.

“You really should tell Venus today.”

“I
know
.” Drew pressed his fingers to his forehead. “Sorry. Didn't mean to shout.”

Nigel regarded him as he chewed his damn roast beef. “It's very tempting to say I told you so.”

“I'm sure it is.”

“I won't say it though.”

Drew grunted. Damn it, Nigel was laughing at him. “It's not amusing.”

“On the contrary, it is. You've got yourself into quite the pickle, haven't you?”

“You're in a bit of a fix yourself.”

Nigel swallowed a forkful of eggs. “No, I don't believe I am. I gave the matter much consideration last night. I've only met Aphrodite once and then only briefly. I shall simply apologize for any confusion”—he grinned—“and blame everything on you.”

“Thanks so much.”

Nigel finally finished consuming his disgusting breakfast. “It
is
your fault, you know, but don't worry. We all make mistakes in our salad days.” He grinned. “And you
are
a duke. Much as you might hate it, your title does forgive a multitude of sins.” He stood. “I'll see you later.”

He went off whistling, the blackguard.

Drew took another sip of coffee. Blech! He spat it back into the cup. It was cold.

No matter what Nigel said, Drew couldn't laugh this off as a youthful indiscretion. Venus certainly wouldn't see it that way.

Hell, he didn't have youthful indiscretions. He'd always been a serious child, but once he'd been saddled with the title, he'd had to grow up all at once—Nigel's father, Drew's guardian, had seen to that. He'd told Drew countless times it was his duty to care for his dependents, invest wisely, take a wife, and have many sons. And to stay out of dangerous places like gambling dens. This was the first time he'd done anything at all foolish.

Damn it, he was too young for this. He should have years before he needed to think of finding a wife and starting his nursery. But there was no point in fighting it. He felt what he felt. Even if he hadn't compromised Venus, he would want to marry her. He only hoped she would have him.

 

“I'm not feeling well, Mama,” Venus said, standing in the doorway to her sister's room. “I think I should stay home.”

“Nonsense.” Mama pinned up a loose curl of Ditee's hair. “You're never sick.”

“I am today.” Her head was pounding, and her eyes felt dry and scratchy. She couldn't have slept more than an hour or two last night.

“Oh, Venus, you can't be sick.” Ditee twisted around to look at her. “You can't miss the duke's garden party.”

“Of course I can.”

“Sit still, Aphrodite,” Mama said, “or I'll never get this hair pinned properly.” She glanced over at Venus. “You'll be fine; it's probably just nerves.”

Her stomach twisted. Yes, it was nerves; her nerves had kept her from eating breakfast and would probably cause her to burst into tears the moment she saw Mr. Valentine. Then she could conveniently die of mortification. “I truly feel ill.”

Mama lifted an eyebrow. “Is it that time of the month, then?”

“No!” She pressed her fingers to her forehead. She should have lied, but Mama would have caught her out in that too soon. “Perhaps I am just tired.”

“You'll perk up once we arrive,” Mama said, finishing with Ditee's hair. “After all, you're the one who's always telling me we should take a greater interest in society, aren't you?”

“Yes, but—”

“You
have
to go, Venus. Please?” Ditee looked beautiful in her old gown furbished with new ribbon, but she looked very anxious, too. “I don't think I can go without you.”

Ditee hadn't asked Venus for anything—besides a pencil and scrap of paper—in years. And besides, it looked very much as if Venus's matchmaking plans were going to come to splendid fruition. She would love to see that. She wanted to say yes—but she wanted more not to see Mr. Valentine. “Oh, Ditee, you'll be fine without me.”

Mama looked from Ditee to Venus and back again. She might spend most of her time wading through Latin and Greek texts, but she wasn't completely oblivious to her surroundings. “Girls, is there something I should be aware of?”

Ditee paled and opened her mouth, surely on the verge of spilling the entire story.

“No, of course not, Mama,” Venus said before Ditee could find her voice.

Poor Ditee looked back at her. Her sister was as white as snow—was she going to faint? She couldn't miss the party; Venus didn't trust Lady Mary not to compromise the duke somehow. And really, sometimes with men it was a matter of out of sight, out of mind. Ditee
had
to go to Hyndon House. Things were still too uncertain to rely on the duke's brief meeting with her to cement the match.

Venus's stomach clenched into a tight knot, but she made herself smile. “I guess I'm feeling better. I'll go get ready.”

“Oh, thank you.” Ditee might as well have thrown herself at Venus's feet and kissed her shoes, her relief was so obvious.

Mama's frown grew. “What have you two been up to?”

“Up to? What could we possibly have been up to?” Venus asked. She glared at Ditee and gave the slightest shake of her head when it looked as if her sister would explain. “We've only been into the village to buy ribbon, and you know nothing ever happens in Little Huffington. Isn't that right, Ditee?”

Ditee got her message. “Oh, er, yes. That's right. There's nothing to tell. Not really.”

Mama's brows met over her nose now. “But—”

“If I'm going,” Venus said, “I'd better hurry. We don't want to be late.”

Since all Venus had to do was pull on her old dress, Mama might be forgiven if she pursued her for further information, but she apparently decided to leave well enough alone. She just nodded. “I'll come in a moment to help you with your hair.”

By the time Venus climbed into the carriage, she'd got a better hold on her emotions. There wouldn't be a huge crowd of people at the party—Little Huffington was little, after all—but there should be enough of a crowd that she could stay on the fringes of it until Mama and Papa were ready to go. And if they wanted to stay longer than Venus could bear—a somewhat unlikely situation as Mama and Papa had never attended a party, to her knowledge—she could always walk home.

It was a very short drive to Hyndon House, but there was a long line of coaches waiting to disgorge their passengers.

“Good heavens,” Mama said, “where have all these people come from?”

“Demmed if I know,” Papa said. He looked distinctly uncomfortable in his best clothes.

When they finally reached the front of the house, Mr. Bugden opened the carriage door and let down the steps.

“What are you doing here?” Papa said. “I thought you dealt with plants, not people.”

“Aye, Mr. Collingswood, but we've many more guests than expected. Mrs. Edgemoor believes the London ladies sent word to their friends.”

“The London ladies?” Mama asked as she descended.

“Lady Mary Detluck and Mrs. Blackburn, madam.” He leaned a little closer and dropped his voice. “His grace and Mr. Valentine were none too happy, I'll tell ye.”

“Maybe you were right, Venus,” Ditee whispered, hesitating in the carriage. “We both should have stayed home.”

“Nonsense,” Venus whispered back. “I'm certain the duke is not the least bit interested in these women. You heard Mr. Bugden; he's not happy they are here.” She gave Ditee a little push to get her moving.

“But, Venus,” Ditee said once Venus joined her on the ground, “look how beautiful their gowns are.” Five or six very elegant women stood in front of them waiting to enter Hyndon House.

“They can't hold a candle to you, Ditee.” The other women's dresses might be finer, but the women themselves had not half Ditee's beauty, if Venus did say so herself, and likely none of her sweet disposition.

They made their way slowly over the drive, up the steps, and into the house. As soon as they stepped through the front door, Venus saw the duke catch sight of Ditee. His whole face brightened.