Page 14 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

L ord Bryton’s ball was the most lavish affair of the Season thus far. By Gerard’s wry estimation, there was enough gold in the ballroom to feed the entire population of Britain for at least a decade.

Gold had been painted over the roses, which sat atop gilded columns.

The tables laden with lemonade and other delicacies were sprinkled with delicate gold leaf, and three golden chandeliers decorated the space.

Gerard was a man of expensive tastes who enjoyed extravagance, but this was simply tawdry.

Perhaps it was all the design of Lord Bryton’s wife, who was an American heiress. Lady Bryton was known for being a little unusual. Gerard’s eyes swept the ballroom, searching instinctively for Lady Dorothy. It was Saturday, and he wanted his answer.

He did not see her.

“Layton!” Pontoun waved at him from across the ballroom.

Gerard smiled. As he approached his friend, a shiver of unease curled inside his chest.

“ Aside from him, you seem largely uninterested in having any attachments with men either. You have many acquaintances, and you enjoy the company of others. But you have so few friends of either sex.”

Lady Everleigh’s words echoed in his mind, as if they were some well-memorized Shakespearean sonnet. A better man might have taken her advice, but that man was not Gerard. Instead, he wondered if he had made a fatal error in letting Pontoun become so close to him.

Gerard’s instincts were at war with one another.

On one hand, he thought that he might be able to stop being Pontoun’s friend.

He could stop calling on the man and find convenient excuses not to see him.

Gerard could occupy his attention instead with ladies, who asked nothing more of him than pleasure.

That was the beauty of having lovers. They did not care if he was unmarried or an improper duke.

But he also found himself wanting to enjoy Pontoun’s friendship. He was possibly the only person on earth with whom Gerard felt that he could be wholly honest.

“These decorations are something, aren’t they?” Pontoun asked, handing Gerard a flute of champagne.

“Indeed.”

Gerard emptied his glass in a single gulp, drawing a concerned look from his friend.

“Was it a difficult day? If so, I imagine you will need something stronger than champagne,” Pontoun said.

“Difficult week,” Gerard replied. “What about you?”

Pontoun shrugged. “I am still searching for my love-match, and I suppose that is it. I have made a handful of calls on Lady Agatha.”

Gerard vaguely recalled her as one of the unmarried misses whom he had seen with Lady Bridget.

“A wise pursuit,” Gerard said. “You are more likely to win her heart with all the others pursuing Lady Bridget.”

“I find it peculiar how quick you are to offer me advice on whom I ought to wed,” Pontoun said, “given that you remain unwed yourself.”

Gerard tried to silence Lady Everleigh’s voice echoing in his head. He forced a smile, feigning rakish indifference. “That is by choice. If I wished to marry, I am certain that I could have a wife. I am a duke, after all.”

“Such a romantic,” Pontoun said dryly.

“If you want a romantic, you should talk with Byron.”

“He is on the continent,” Pontoun said. “I suppose I will have to settle for you.”

Gerard chuckled. “You poor soul.”

Leedway entered the ballroom, escorting his sisters.

Gerard’s breath caught in his throat as he beheld Lady Dorothy.

She wore a pale blue gown with a white sash, displaying her slender waist and hips to their best effect.

Seeing their entrance, a few gentlemen slyly began to approach.

Their prey was doubtlessly Lady Bridget.

Gerard’s blood roared in his ears. “I should greet Leedway.”

“Is it Leedway who you are greeting? Or is it Lady Bridget?”

Gerard grinned. “Leedway, of course.”

Neither , of course. Gerard placed his empty champagne flute onto a table that he passed and crossed the room, weaving adeptly through the crowd of lords and ladies. Lady Dorothy spied him before he reached her, and their eyes met.

Gerard frantically searched her face for the smallest clue as to what her answer might be, but he found nothing.

He supposed he would learn soon enough, but first, he would have to separate her from Leedway and Lady Bridget.

Being a mostly respectable spinster, Lady Dorothy would not wish to speak of their affair before her siblings.

“Leedway,” Gerard greeted.

It was best to pretend as though he had come to speak to their brother. He would greet the ladies only out of courtesy, which would not arouse suspicions.

“Layton,” Leedway said, his face stern. “Good evening.”

Gerard assumed that the man suspected him of pursuing Lady Bridget, despite his promise not to. To be fair, Leedway was not entirely wrong to be concerned; it was only that he assumed the wrong sister was being pursued.

Lady Dorothy was watching him carefully. Even without turning to look, Gerard sensed her eyes upon him. Good . Regardless of what she had decided to say in response to his proposal, he liked that she was looking at him.

“Good evening,” Gerard echoed. “I wanted to tell you that you presented an excellent proposal before parliament. I was deeply impressed.”

Leedway’s expression brightened. “Thank you.”

“But I will not take all of your time tonight,” Gerard said. “I am certain that you are not here to discuss politics all night.”

“I would not be opposed to that,” Leedway said, glancing at his sisters.

Gerard followed his gaze. Lady Bridget had her dance card at the ready and was dutifully adding names to it under the watchful gaze of Lady Dorothy.

“I see that your youngest sister is quite desired,” Gerard said, choosing his words with care. “It is fortunate that she has Lady Dorothy to ensure that she does not fall prey to a rake.”

“Very fortunate.”

At last, Lady Dorothy glanced his way.

Perfect . Gerard bowed deeply. “Lady Dorothy,” he said. “Leedway and I were just discussing you.”

“Were you?”

Lady Dorothy glanced at Lady Bridget. The spinster seemed to mull over some decision for a heartbeat. Then, she moved away from her sister and curtsied.

“I hope it was pleasing, Your Grace.”

“As if I would ever share anything displeasing about you,” Leedway said. “We were discussing your devotion to Bridget.”

“Oh.”

“It is wholly admirable,” Gerard said.

“Thank you,” Lady Dorothy said.

“Ah, I must speak to Trevalyn,” Leedway said, giving his sister a final glance. “If you have need of me?—”

“I will find you,” she said.

“Layton,” Leedway said, giving Gerard a curt nod.

As the man departed, Gerard seized the opportunity that he had been given. “Good evening, my lady,” he purred, drawing a little closer to Lady Dorothy.

Her face flushed with color. “Do not speak to me too much in public, or people will gossip about us.”

“But you owe me an answer,” he said, keeping his voice low and sultry. “It is Saturday. Or have you forgotten what I am owed?”

“I have not,” she said, her eyes darting about her.

The poor woman looked as though she suspected the entire ton of treachery. To be fair, Gerard was not certain that her fears were unfounded. He had a reputation, and if he lingered by her side for much longer, he imagined that people would wonder what he might be doing or saying.

“And I will give you that answer,” she murmured. “But not here. Not now.”

Gerard smiled. “I see. Are you familiar with this house?”

“No.”

He tilted his head. “Do you see that doorway?”

“Yes.”

“I will leave through it in just a moment,” he said. “Wait an appropriate amount of time, so as not to arouse suspicion. Then, leave through that doorway yourself. I will be waiting for you in the third room on the left.”

“I see.”

“Do not keep me waiting for too long, my lady. If you do, I shall be most displeased.”

Lady Dorothy nodded. She gazed at him with wide eyes and slightly parted lips.

The impulse to seize her by the hips and kiss those luscious lips rose within him.

He buried his desires deep and winked roguishly at her.

Then, he departed. As he passed her, Gerard offered a polite nod to Lady Bridget. She did not seem to notice him.

Gerard’s pulse thundered as he crossed the room. He did not want to appear too eager to leave. Lady Everleigh brought him up short. Gerard halted, staring at her in something like disbelief.

“My lady.”

She smiled. “My lord. What a coincidence that I should see you here.”

“It does not feel like a coincidence,” he said.

Lady Everleigh fanned herself. The gesture did not seem as though it was meant to be seductive. Gerard found himself wondering at her motivations, though. She had declined social invitations all Season, only to appear at a ball directly following his visit.

“I am not here for you,” she said. “But I thought I would be cordial. I noticed you speaking to Lady Dorothy.”

“She was standing beside Leedway,” he said dismissively.

“Indeed.” Lady Everleigh did not look as though she really believed him. “Do be careful, though. The Duke of Reeds seems to be the protective sort, so if you were thinking of pursuing his sister…”

“It is no business of yours,” Gerard said. “In case you have forgotten, you would not even tell me who your lover is.”

“And I have no intention of telling you,” Lady Everleigh said. “But he is terribly jealous. I do hope he sees me speaking with you.”

Gerard arched an eyebrow. “Do you anticipate him confronting me?”

“On the contrary, I anticipate him confronting me .”

Then, she sauntered away, acting as though they had not spoken at all.

Gerard began to wonder what he might have brought upon himself.

He supposed that the encounter with Lady Everleigh might be useful, though.

If he spoke with many women over the course of the night, the ton was unlikely to notice that he had spent more time than was appropriate with Lady Dorothy.

He took care to speak to a few other gentlemen and two ladies before slipping away. A maid in the corridor bowed to him and passed quickly. The waiting footmen did not address him at all. Gerard found the corridor unoccupied. He entered the familiar room, closing the door behind him.

It was the library, a room spacious enough to hide if one happened to be stumbled upon by another guest seeking a private, amorous congress.

Gerard tread quietly past the tall shelves laden with volumes.

Once, he’d had an enjoyable encounter with Lady Everleigh in this room.

It had involved a particularly clever usage of a large, leatherbound volume and a chair by the fireside.

Since that night, Gerard had been especially fond of Geoffrey of Monmouth’s History of the Kings of Britain . He crossed the room and lowered himself into one of the armchairs by the dark fireplace. The room was not well-lit, which he enjoyed. It gave the library a more intimate atmosphere.

And he waited, his loins aching. If Lady Dorothy did not agree to submit to him, Gerard suspected it would be a rather miserable night. He had never been particularly good at handling rejection.

“Well,” he said softly. “I hope she does not take long.”

He spent what felt like an eternity waiting. At last, the door creaked open. Gerard straightened in his chair, watching as the young lady entered. “Are you here?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Lady Dorothy visibly startled and closed the door behind her. She stood in the dim, silvery moonlight like a fairy maiden come from her forest to see him. He stood languidly.

“My lady,” he greeted. “Have you come with my answer?”

She nodded. As he approached, Lady Dorothy tensed. She curled her fingers into the skirts of her gown, hitching the fabric up a few tantalizing inches. He sucked in a breath so sharply that it hurt.

“Well?” he asked.

She inhaled shakily. “Yes.”