The Forbidden Duke (4 page)

“Gads no, but then I can barely tolerate this sort of thing either.”

“So why are you here?”

Satterfield pivoted so that his back was to the window and he faced the room at large. “Same reason as you, I expect. I love your stepmother, and I want to support her. Did you meet Miss Lockhart?”

At the mention of her name, Titus had to reassess his behavior. Perhaps he
had
been brooding after all. “I did.”

“She and Genie get on quite well. I wasn’t certain this would be a good idea, but I have to admit, it seems to be working out.”

Titus was glad for that—no one deserved happiness more than his stepmother. She’d accepted him as her own son the moment she’d married Titus’s father and hadn’t treated him any differently once she’d finally had her own child. The loss of that child, Titus’s sister, was only one of the reasons Titus was eager to see her happy. He’d do anything for her, in fact. Anything except take a duchess.

Maybe someday. Just not now.

“And did your evening find a satisfying end?” Satterfield asked.

It was his polite way of asking if Titus had secured his mistress for the Season. He had. Isabelle Francis was incomparably beautiful—or so Titus had thought last night. However, she now seemed a trifle…colorless next to Miss Lockhart. Her hair was pale blond, while Miss Lockhart’s was a vivid auburn. Isabelle’s eyes were an incandescent blue—beautiful—but simple, as if she were only capable of a studied range of emotions. Miss Lockhart’s had possessed a feral quality. Somehow he’d detected a fierce independence buried in their depths.

Titus turned his head to look at Satterfield and to see if he could catch a glimpse of Miss Lockhart. She stood on the other side of the room, engaged in conversation—a vibrant addition to the mundane tea. Indeed, she didn’t look much like a companion at all. Weren’t they supposed to sit out of the way and observe?

“Kendal?”

Feeling as though he’d been caught stealing a biscuit from the kitchen when he was six, he snapped his attention back to his stepfather. “Yes. Last night proved most favorable.”

Today, however, was proving strange. Miss Lockhart was provoking him to feel things he hadn’t in years. First was his inconvenient attraction to someone who wasn’t his mistress. He hadn’t been beleaguered with such nonsense in an age, and he’d be damned if he’d start now. No, that nuisance could be thwarted or at least ignored.

Second, however, was the memory of who he used to be. How, once upon a time, he might have flirted with Miss Lockhart, perhaps stolen a kiss in a dark garden, and never given her another thought.

He inwardly flinched, despising that callow young man. He caught his stepmother looking toward them meaningfully.

“Genie’s giving us the evil eye,” Satterfield said. “I’d best go and smooth her feathers. I’d ask you to join me, but I know what your answer will be.” He clapped a hand on Titus’s shoulder. “Never you mind. She’s just happy you’re here.”

Titus watched Satterfield join the group, then turned his gaze back to the street where it was safer. However, despite his intentions, he found himself sneaking looks at Miss Lockhart several times throughout the tea.

And that simply would not do.

Chapter Three

N
ora’s heart had been racing at the outset of the tea this afternoon. This was her first official foray into Society, and she’d worried about how people might react when they saw her again. So far, however, things had gone swimmingly. In fact, she hadn’t expected Lady Satterfield to include her quite so…robustly. As a paid companion, she’d expected to help serve tea or ensure that no one was excluded from conversation. Instead, Lady Satterfield had introduced her to everyone who arrived. It had felt—just a bit—like her first Season.

Except she was ten years older and far wiser. She hoped.

Lady Satterfield interrupted Nora’s thoughts by introducing her to a new arrival, Lady Dunn. Past middle age with dark gray hair swept into an elegant style, Lady Dunn raised her quizzing glass and surveyed Nora from the top of her head to the tip of her shoe. “I remember you, gel.”

Nora braced herself for what might come next. So far no one had come out and said whether they recalled who Nora was. And Nora didn’t remember Lady Dunn.

Lady Satterfield opened her mouth, but Lady Dunn spoke first. “It’s good that you came back.”

It was? Nora felt a surge of relief and smiled.

Lady Dunn lowered her glass. “Come and sit with me for a few minutes.” She led Nora to an empty settee.

Nora glanced at Lady Satterfield, who nodded encouragingly.

Lady Dunn sat on the pale gold brocade and patted the space next to her.

Nora dropped down beside her. She had the sense Lady Dunn wanted to impart some bit of wisdom or advice.

“You’re a brave young lady,” Lady Dunn said without preamble. “I recall precisely what trouble you found however many years ago that was, and I can only hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

Nora wasn’t sure what to make of the woman’s candor. On the one hand, it was comforting to have things out in the open, but on the other, she felt more vulnerable than she had all day. “Yes, my lady. Quite.”

Lady Dunn nodded her head in one sharp bob of acknowledgment. Her gaze surveyed the room, then arrested. Her lips parted. “My goodness. The Forbidden Duke.” Her tone was soft, almost breathy.

Nora followed Lady Dunn’s line of sight and ended up at…the Duke of Kendal, Lady Satterfield’s stepson. She looked at Lady Dunn. “The who?”
 

Lady Dunn blinked at Nora as if she’d grown a second head. “The Duke of Kendal. Surely you know that, since you are Lady Satterfield’s companion.” She pursed her lips together. “However, I suppose you wouldn’t hear what’s said about him from his stepmother.”

Nora shouldn’t want to hear what was said about him at all. She was trying to behave in the most exemplary fashion possible—no gossip, no scandal. Still, she was dying to know why he was
forbidden
.
 

Their brief meeting had intrigued her. He was devastatingly attractive with black hair and piercing green eyes, and he’d looked at her with…interest. Or something. There had been a hint of heat in his gaze, which she’d recognized from her experience with Haywood. She ought to run screaming in the other direction, but she sensed that he possessed something Haywood hadn’t: self-control. “Why is he called that?” She immediately wished she could take the question back. She’d always been far too curious—and unable to keep her curiosity to herself.

Lady Dunn leaned forward slightly, displaying a keen interest in this topic. “Because he doesn’t engage in Society, and he doesn’t socialize. He holds himself apart. He isn’t seen, he isn’t approached, and he isn’t spoken to.”

He sounded like the quintessential Untouchable. She sneaked a look at him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his thick hair waving back from his wide forehead. She could only see his profile, but his chin was square and his lips supple.

Supple?

“Why is he here, then?” Despite her brain telling her to cease pursuit of this topic, she couldn’t seem to stop.

“I was hoping you could tell me, dear,” Lady Dunn said with an edge of humor. “Perhaps he’s on the hunt for his dance partner for Lady Satterfield’s ball. It’s the only event he goes to during the Season, and he always dances just once—the first dance—with a very special, and very lucky, lady.”

Since Lady Dunn was so keen to share information, Nora gave up trying to quash her interest. “Special how?” she asked.

“She’s invariably someone in need of attention—a spinster, a widow, the youngest daughter who’s been forgotten after her elder sisters were married. His selection of her elevates her position.”

He might be an Untouchable, but he sounded like a bit of a hero too.

Nora darted another look in his direction and nearly slipped off the settee. He was staring right at her, and she swore the heat in his gaze had intensified, as if he’d spent the last hour simmering over by the windows. Nora felt distinctly warm. And not uncomfortably so.

He turned his attention back to the windows, breaking their eye contact. Nora dropped her gaze and studied the small flowers on her dress in an effort to right her suddenly sideways equilibrium.

Until she’d caught him looking at her, she would’ve said he seemed to have no awareness of the people in the drawing room. Perhaps he should be called the Aloof Duke instead. Or maybe even the Arrogant Duke. That wasn’t fair. She had no idea if he was arrogant. Perhaps he had a fear of social gatherings or people in general. Perhaps he was really the Skittish Duke. Or the Paranoid Duke. She smiled to herself, thinking she could amuse herself all day coming up with alternate names for him. The Detached Duke. Oh yes, that might fit quite nicely.

“Why are you smiling, gel?” Lady Dunn asked.

Startled from her ridiculous reverie, Nora blinked before turning to look at Lady Dunn. “I’m just enjoying myself. Are you? Is there anything you require?”

“Not at all. It’s time for me to be on my way. I should like to be the first to share the news of the Forbidden Duke’s appearance, and I’ve several more calls to make.” She held out her hand. “Help me up, dear.”

Nora jumped to her feet and assisted Lady Dunn to stand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Even though Lady Dunn was shorter than Nora, she was somehow able to convey the effect of looking down her nose. “I’ll be keeping an eye on you, Miss Lockhart. I’ve decided to like you. Do not disappoint me.” She winked before taking herself off to bid farewell to Lady Satterfield.

Nora considered how to ask Lady Satterfield about her stepson’s nickname. Later, after the tea, she’d simply tell her what Lady Dunn had said.

“Oh my goodness, is it really Miss Eleanor Lockhart?” The shrill question hit Nora’s ears like a screeching falcon.
 

She pivoted and had to quash the look of disgust that immediately rose to her face.

Of all the people she might’ve chanced upon today, did it have to be Susannah Weycombe? No, she was Lady Abercrombie now. She’d been betrothed shortly after Nora had left London, and Nora had read about her lavish wedding breakfast in the newspaper.

Lady Abercrombie wasn’t alone either. Another woman who’d taken great delight in Nora’s disgrace, Miss Dorothy Cranley, stood beside her. At least Nora thought it was Dorothy. This woman was perhaps two stone heavier.

Nora forced a tight smile. “Good afternoon, Lady Abercrombie.”

“You remember Dorothy—she’s Lady Kipp-Landon now,” Lady Abercrombie said.

“Yes, of course. A pleasure to see you both again.” It wasn’t, but Nora wouldn’t say what it
really
was.

“Whatever are you doing in London?” Lady Abercrombie asked, her brown eyes wide and full to the brim with guile.

Nora inclined her head toward their hostess. “I’m companion to Lady Satterfield.”
 

“How…charming,” Lady Kipp-Landon all but sniggered. “I suppose you’re just happy to be back.”

Nora schooled her features into a serene mask. Her irritation was pricked, but she wouldn’t give in to it. She couldn’t. “I am, thank you.”
 

Lady Kipp-Landon edged closer to Nora. “Is that the Forbidden Duke over by the window?”

Nora wasn’t sure if she was talking to her or to Lady Abercrombie, so she didn’t answer.

“It
is
,” Lady Abercrombie said, her tone hushed. She turned her head to Nora. “What is he doing here?”

Nora couldn’t think of what to say that wasn’t
It’s none of your business
. She blinked at both of them and said only, “It’s his stepmother’s tea.”

Lady Kipp-Landon fidgeted with her earring. “I’ve never seen him anywhere other than his stepmother’s ball.” She glanced at Lady Abercrombie. “Do you suppose he’ll be there?” The ball was in just a few days. “And will he dance?”

Lady Abercrombie nodded gently. “I expect so. He always does. One ball. One dance. One lucky lady who never hears from him again.” There was a wistfulness to her tone that wedged its way into Nora’s chest.

Thankfully, Lady Satterfield looked toward her and motioned for Nora to join her. Relieved for the interruption, Nora flashed an insincere smile at the harpies. “Please excuse me.”