The Forbidden Duke (14 page)

Kendal watched her approach, his green eyes dark and seductive, almost beckoning her. She felt a pull to walk directly to him, the memory of his lips on hers propelling her forward.

“Good evening, Miss Lockhart.” His voice was deep and captivating.

She offered him a curtsey. “Good evening, Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to see you here.” She didn’t intentionally infuse the comment with any sort of question, but dearly wanted to ask why he’d come. His attendance was bound to cause a stir.

The edge of his mouth ticked up. It wasn’t a smile, but she recognized it as him understanding her unasked query, particularly because his eyes seemed to glow with a suppressed emotion. She had the sense he was amused by this situation, and she longed to ask why.

“I was hoping to claim the next dance.”

Oh dear. Disappointment curled through her. Her popularity had never been more of a nuisance. “I am, unfortunately, already committed, Your Grace.”

The look in his eyes dampened. “Well then, I shall have to settle for a promenade.”

“Yes, after supper,” Lady Satterfield said.

Nora had all but forgotten her presence. In fact, she’d all but forgotten that they were at a ball. It had seemed that just she and Kendal existed. How absurdly delightful.

Lord Satterfield joined them. “Kendal, this is a shock. Are you trying to set the ton on its ear?” He grinned at his stepson before turning to his wife. “Shall we go in to supper?”

“Indeed.” Kendal presented his arm to Nora, and they preceded the Satterfields to the dining room, where a lavish table was set. Nora had never seen such a display. The sheer quantity of dishes, silver, and glasses was enough to make her head swim.

She tipped her head toward Kendal. “What a staggering amount of crockery.”
 

She kept her voice low, preferring their conversation to be as private as possible. She could feel the eyes of the room staring at them, could hear the questions and comments the guests were striving to keep quiet. She preferred to pretend that she and Kendal were alone in the garden at the Satterfields’. Or anywhere else, really.

He guided her to a chair next to Lady Satterfield. “I can’t imagine supporting an event of this size. My stepmother’s annual ball is quite daunting enough.” He situated Nora in the chair, and then his touch was gone, leaving her cold.

Lady Satterfield looked at Nora and then her stepson. “It isn’t so different. Of course, I don’t have the space or retainers to carry off a ball of this proportion. But if I did, I would.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Nora, when you are wed, you may find yourself the hostess of a ball like this.”

Nora had dreamed of such a thing in the early years following her ruin, but had never imagined it would come true. Even now, sitting amongst the ton’s most elite—the Untouchables—and enjoying a level of acceptance she’d never imagined, she couldn’t quite believe it was possible. Furthermore, now that it was, she wasn’t at all certain that was what she wanted.

Kendal indicated the footman should pour him some claret. He turned to Nora. “Claret or Madeira?”

She looked at the footman. “Madeira, please.”

A woman seated on the other side of Kendal spoke. “Kendal, it is such a boon to find you here this evening. You seem to be quite the man about town this Season.”

Nora hadn’t ever seen him converse with people. On the occasions she’d seen him publicly—at Lady Satterfield’s ball and the picnic—he’d spoken only with his stepparents and Nora. She waited to see what he would do.

He turned his head toward the woman, and Nora would’ve traded her pin money to see his expression. She strained to hear what he would say.

“Yes.”

The single word seemed to convey a wealth of meaning, the most important of which was,
Don’t speak to me again
.

Or so it seemed.

He turned his head toward Nora. “Have you enjoyed the ball?”

“Yes, thank you.” She darted a look across the table and saw that people, as expected, were watching them. She did her best to ignore them and wondered how Kendal did it. He seemed utterly immune to those around him. “How do you do it?” she whispered.

“What?” It wasn’t quite a whisper, but the word was soft, and the bass tone made her shiver.

“Shut them all out,” she said.

“Ah. That, I think, is a conversation for another time.” He barely smiled. “But I promise we shall have it.”

Lady Satterfield took over the bulk of the conversation while they ate supper. As the meal drew to a close, she peered around Nora. “Kendal, will you be staying?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been here long enough, don’t you think?” The elevation of his eyebrow lent a note of humor to his question.

His stepmother chuckled. “Indeed. It’s a shame you can’t dance with Nora, but I daresay she doesn’t require your assistance any longer.”
 

There it was. Nora had long suspected Kendal was only showing interest in her because Lady Satterfield had asked him to, and now she knew it was true. Why, then, had he kissed her? She dashed a glance at him, feeling suddenly unsettled.

Everyone began to stand from the table. Kendal helped Nora from her chair and led her from the dining room. Back in the ballroom, he kissed her hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Lockhart. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall.” But not nearly so much as the past hour. Until she’d begun to feel like an obligation. Or a favor the Forbidden Duke was doing for his beloved stepmother.

As she watched him retreat from the ballroom, a part of her protested. Perhaps his interest had started that way, but she didn’t think she’d misunderstood his ardor when they’d kissed or the humor they’d shared in conversation or the promise he’d just made her at dinner. No, he didn’t seem indifferent. But neither did that mean he wanted anything more than to help her on her way to success.

She danced with several more gentlemen, but with each one, she imagined green eyes and a seductive smile. By the time she climbed into the coach with Lady Satterfield, she was exhausted.

“How do people survive an entire Season of such entertainment?” Nora asked. She’d surely have to sleep the day away tomorrow, but likely wouldn’t. She rose early in the country, and had not yet broken that habit.

The countess laughed. “You become used to it, but of course I don’t go out like this every night. I wouldn’t be able to manage. It was different when I was younger.” She studied Nora. “You don’t like it?”

Nora didn’t want to hurt Lady Satterfield’s feelings. She was, after all, providing Nora with an exceptional opportunity, and Nora didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “It’s not that… It’s just different.”

“You’ll get used to it. Once you’re wed, you can dictate your social calendar. Look at Kendal. He doesn’t bother with any of it.” She shook her head. “I’m astounded he came tonight. It will be the primary topic of conversation tomorrow. If it isn’t already.”

“You didn’t know he was coming?” Nora asked.

“No, and I didn’t ask him to. I told him we would be here, of course.”
 

She hadn’t asked him to come. Which meant he’d attended—sought her out—of his own accord. The unease she’d felt earlier dispelled, leaving a warm feeling of contentment in its wake.

Lady Satterfield tipped her head to the side. “You must think him very odd. I know some people do, but then others recall what he was like before—in his youth.”

Nora leaned slightly forward, eager to know more. “And how was that?”

“He was careless, an utter rake, truth be told. Then his father died, and he became the duke. Kendal—that is, Titus—felt his responsibility quite heavily and worked hard to be the sort of man his father would have wanted him to be.”

Nora was entranced. She longed to unravel the mysteries of the Forbidden Duke. “What sort of man was that?”

“Kendal—my husband, that is—was the smartest man I knew. He ran his estates impeccably and was always championing a cause or five in Parliament. He was a reformer.” She smiled, her gaze looking into the distance as if she were overcome with memories. “He had very little time for nonsense, or what he considered nonsense anyway.”

“What did he consider nonsense?”

Lady Satterfield’s lips curved up. “Balls like this one, though he would’ve made an appearance for supper as Satterfield did.”

Nora noted that Satterfield stayed longer than that before taking his leave. “Did he spend much time at his club?”

“In the same way that Titus does—keeping to his private room for the most part.”

Titus
. A strong name that recalled the Greek Titans, it fit him. Nora imagined him in solitude and was surprised to find the image enticing. But then any image with him made her stomach curl with anticipation. She tried to think of the younger Titus, the rake, and found it nearly impossible. “I can’t imagine Kendal as a reckless youth.”

“Yes, well, he was.” Lady Satterfield shook her head gently. “He drove his father mad with his antics.”
 

“What manner of antics?”
 

“He ran with a fast crowd—racing phaetons, gambling, everything you might expect. He cut quite a figure. I’m surprised you don’t remember him from when you were out. That would have been about the same time.”

Nora tried to recall him but couldn’t. “I didn’t move in the same circles.” Indeed, her only foray into the upper echelon had been when Haywood had paid her attention, and look at how that had turned out.

“He wasn’t Kendal of course then,” Lady Satterfield said. “He was the Marquess of Ravenglass.”

That name sparked a hint of memory, but Nora still couldn’t place him.

Lady Satterfield yawned as the coach stopped in front of their town house. “Goodness, but I am tired. We shall take a respite tomorrow. I need to summon my energy since I’m hosting a tea the following day.”

Nora was delighted to have a day of relaxation. Even so, she felt restless just now. The name Ravenglass nagged at the back of her mind, but she simply didn’t remember Kendal from her earlier Seasons. When she fell asleep that night, she thought of a rake named Ravenglass and couldn’t imagine how he’d become the Forbidden Duke.

Chapter Ten

T
itus went from the ball to his mistress’s house. Isabelle was out—at the theatre, according to her footman—so he waited for her. But after pouring a glass of whisky, instead of making himself comfortable, he paced.
 

She made a grand entrance into the small sitting room adjoining her bedchamber. Dressed in a gown of sparkling ruby satin decorated with gold ribbon, she looked like a gleaming jewel meant to be appreciated. Preened over.
 

He couldn’t help but contrast her to Nora. She’d worn a simple but elegant ball gown made of a rich amber that made her auburn hair seem redder and her tawny eyes more luminescent. Where Isabelle commanded attention, Nora quietly lured you into her orbit, and once there, you were sorely tempted to never leave.

But he
had
left. He’d possessed no other choice unless he wanted to give the ton even more fodder.

“Kendal,” Isabelle purred. “What a divine surprise.” She set her fur-lined shawl on the settee. “Give me a few minutes to prepare before you come in.” She started toward her bedchamber.

“Wait. I should like to…talk.” He took the armchair near the fireplace, beside which sat his whisky on a side table. He took a drink and gestured for her to sit too.

She perched on the settee, her expression bemused. “All right.” She tugged her gloves off and set them beside her. Then she reached up and unpinned the feather from her impressively dressed hair. “What are we to discuss?”

He shrugged. “The weather. Whatever you saw at the theatre. I care not.”

“I see. You came here to talk but haven’t a subject in mind.” She placed the feather atop her gloves. “I hope you’ll forgive my boldness—you’ve a terrible reputation for not suffering foolishness of any kind—but why ever did you employ me?”

He suppressed a scowl and took another drink of whisky. “No, I do not suffer fools.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You specifically told me that you chose me because I am blessedly bereft of the guile my
sisters
typically wield. Would you also prefer I hold my tongue? If memory serves, you quite liked that appendage.”