Page 6 of A Duchess Bound (Dukes of Dominance #2)

R egent’s Park was in bloom. Flowers blossomed, flaunting their bright hues in the early morning sunlight. Wind swept through the air, carrying their sweet perfume. It was unquestionably lovely. Picturesque, even. However, Gerard’s thoughts were fixed upon an entirely different manner of flower.

The pleasant weather had brought all the ladies out to promenade. Even better, the ladies were dressed with the intent of being seen . His lips twitched into a smirk as he walked past two ladies in exquisitely tailored gowns. Gerard silently praised the talents of their modistes.

Pontoun walked behind Gerard. The man had been quiet all morning, probably brooding.

“Have you seen any lady worth pursuing?” Gerard asked at last, unable to bear the silence any longer.

He did not truly care. It was obvious that Pontoun had not found a suitable lady. However, it was equally apparent that Pontoun wanted to talk about his ill fortune. Gerard was not always a great friend, and he tried not to be a needlessly cruel one.

Pontoun sighed. “Many,” he said. “But I find myself…encumbered by a certain dilemma.”

“Oh?”

“I must introduce myself to a lady and spend time with her to discern if I love her.”

“Yes.”

“But I do not want a lady to feel as though I have given her false hope,” Pontoun said. “What am I to do if I approach a lady and court her? If I pay calls to her and dance with her at balls and realize that I bear no real affection for her? She would most certainly be distraught.”

“As she should be,” Gerard said. “If a lady shows affections towards you, she may risk losing the attention of other suitors, who may be willing to marry her even if she is not a love-match.”

“Yes! What am I to do?”

Gerard smiled wryly. “My friend, I have no idea what to tell you. My advice would be to accept your fate as a gentleman of the ton and marry a lady who can provide you with an ample dowry and suitable heirs.”

“I will not. If I abandon the pursuit before it begins, I am undeserving of love.”

“I suppose you would be.”

Gerard looked ahead, and his heart caught in his throat. He recognized the two fair-haired beauties, Lady Dorothy and Lady Bridget.

“This pair,” Gerard said, quickening his steps. “I will introduce you to Lady Bridget. She is a beauty beyond compare.”

“I want more than beauty from my bride.”

“Of course, you do! But beauty does not hurt when it comes to choosing one’s duchess!”

Gerard saw the precise moment Lady Dorothy recognized him, for her shoulders stiffened. To Gerard’s immense delight, her lovely face hardened into a look of displeasure. His blood quickened in his veins, filling him with warmth. There was a battle coming, and he was determined to win.

“Good afternoon, ladies!” He bowed flamboyantly, drawing a small titter of laughter from Lady Bridget. “May I introduce my companion to you? This is Louis Pontoun, the Duke of St. Claire. Ponty, this is Lady Dorothy and Lady Bridget.”

“Charmed to make your acquaintance,” Pontoun said.

Gerard fixed his gaze on Lady Bridget. She smiled at him, her blue eyes sparkling like finely polished sapphires. He sensed Lady Dorothy’s eyes on him and purposefully refused to look at her. How long before she lost her composure and threw some sharp remark in his direction?

“We are also quite pleased to meet you,” Lady Bridget said, smiling at Pontoun. “It is a lovely day to promenade.”

“Indeed, it is. Might we join you?”

Lady Bridget cast a questioning look at her sister.

“We are nearly finished with our walk,” Lady Dorothy said. “I fear that the time you spent with us would be terribly slight.”

“Why should that matter?” Gerard asked. “Even a heartbeat in the presence of such beauty is infinitely precious. If we must decide between having a heartbeat with you or no time at all, it is obvious which we must choose.”

“Nice words,” Lady Dorothy said.

Her disapproval was impossible to miss. Gerard smiled, looking directly at her. A shiver of delight shot through him as he gazed at her beautiful, frustrated face.

“They are nice,” Gerard said. “Thank you for noticing the care with which I chose them.”

“Shall we begin walking?” Pontoun asked.

His friend’s tone was difficult to discern. Was he frustrated or merely bored by the exchange unfolding before him?

“Yes,” Gerard said. “I find that agreeable, provided that the ladies are also willing.”

Lady Bridget curiously eyed her sister, who sighed. “How can I refuse?” Lady Dorothy asked. “His Grace has provided such a well-reasoned argument for joining us.”

“I am pleased to hear you acknowledge it as such,” Gerard said. “Shall we, Lady Bridget?”

“I suppose we shall.”

Gerard considered offering his arm to her, but he had told Pontoun that this would be his opportunity to meet Lady Bridget. Instead, he let his friend walk alongside Lady Bridget and lingered a few steps behind with the elder Leedway sister. Her blue eyes were as stormy as the sea.

“You are impossible,” Lady Dorothy said.

“Wonderfully so.”

“ Wonderfully . It is a wonder that you are so obtuse,” she hissed under her breath. “You know that I do not want you interacting with my sister. You will sully her spotless reputation, and she will suffer for it.”

“I have no intention of sullying your sister.”

Admittedly, he had wanted to do that at first. That was before he had realized how interesting the spinster could be, though.

“You say that,” Lady Dorothy said, “but I find it difficult to believe you. After all, rakes are notorious liars, and I doubt that you are the exception to that rule.”

Gerard sighed dramatically. “My lady, it wounds me to hear you say such.”

“Of course, it does,” she replied dryly. “Tell me, Your Grace. Is it more like a bullet or a sword?”

“Both at once. It is agony beyond compare,” he said. “I am being flayed by your tongue.”

Pontoun looked over his shoulder and cast them a confused look. Gerard imagined that he had only caught a small piece of the conversation and was struggling to understand it.

“The more I dissuade you, the more you seem to delight in my misery.”

“Delighting in your misery?”

Had she surmised the real reason that he had chosen to approach her and Lady Bridget? He cast her a sly, sideways glance, but she seemed entirely unaffected.

Perhaps, he should not be surprised. She was a spinster, after all, and he did not imagine that she would ever even consider that he might have approached them just to speak with her. It was the woman’s own fault for being so lovely in her fury.

“That is what you are doing,” she hissed. “And you are doing it while threatening to ruin my sister with your very presence.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I am wounded that you think so.”

Lady Dorothy’s nose wrinkled, as though she had caught the scent of something unpleasant. “You keep talking about wounds. I wonder if you have ever once given thought to the wounds that you have inflicted, however, upon innocent ladies!”

As she spoke, her face reddened, and the pitch of her voice rose higher. Gerard’s blood grew hotter in his veins. Every ounce of her defiance burned through him, and he ached with thoughts of how much sweeter her fire would make his conquest.

And her submission would be all the more sweet if it was something he had fought for and earned.

“I think about it often,” he purred. “Every day, in fact.”

She dropped her hand from his arm and stormed ahead. “Bridget, it is time that we leave these fine gentlemen and return home.”

Lady Bridget started, her brow furrowing in confusion. The expression was sweet and innocent, and if Lady Dorothy had not been so interesting , he would have found himself utterly charmed by her face.

“Do we need to leave so suddenly?” Lady Bridget asked. “The gentlemen have only just joined us.”

“I have given them a heartbeat of our time,” Lady Dorothy said viciously. “That is far more than they deserve.”

Pontoun looked vaguely affronted, and Gerard felt a pinch of guilt for having, in all likelihood, ruined his friend’s chance at making a good impression on Lady Bridget. Still, Pontoun was a good man, and Gerard was certain that the man would find a proper love elsewhere.

“How generous you are,” Gerard said. “An entire heartbeat of your time.”

“It is more than a rake deserves!” she snapped. “And you are a rake. If you were not, you would know when you are not welcome somewhere, and you would have already left! You would have the decency to choose a lady’s comfort over your own selfish desires!”

Gerard’s lips twitched in amusement. He bowed, his eyes never leaving Lady Dorothy’s face. “As you wish, my lady. It was a rare joy to spar with you once again.”

He cast Pontoun an apologetic glance. Then, he turned on his heels and strode in the other direction. After a few steps, he heard Pontoun following.

Then, the man’s hand landed on his shoulder. “What was that ?” he hissed.

Gerard shrugged nonchalantly. “I merely spoke to the lady. I was quite civil.”

“Were you?” Pontoun asked flatly, glancing over his shoulder.

Gerard followed his friend’s gaze and found the ladies were walking away. Lady Dorothy was moving exceedingly quickly, her gown tangling about her legs due to her fast pace.

“Yes,” Gerard said. “However, there is something about my character which seems to greatly vex Lady Dorothy.”

“I wonder what that is.”

“You are not angry with me, are you?” Gerard asked.

Pontoun sighed and shook his head. He dropped his hand and instead simply walked alongside Gerard, not speaking once again.

“Did you like Lady Bridget?” Gerard asked. “She is quite a lovely lady, is she not?”

“She is. Very charming.”

He caught the note of hesitation in his friend’s voice. “But?” Gerard prompted.

“She is too young and innocent. How can such a lady possibly know what love is?” Pontoun asked.

“I am beginning to think that you are making this whole matter unnecessarily complicated. But good luck with your search.”

The more Pontoun spoke, the more Gerard felt his friend was tilting at windmills, seeing common peasants and imagining them as beautiful maidens waiting for a knight to ride away with them.

Gerard found himself wryly grateful that he was far more interested in lusting for ladies than loving them.

Lust was fantasizing about beautiful ladies.

Lust was far more achievable than love, and it did not require such uncertainties.

If his lovers decided that they no longer desired him, what did it matter?

He could always find another willing lady.

“And to you, I suppose,” Pontoun said. “It seems to me as though you have taken great interest in Lady Dorothy.”

“She is an amusing pastime.”

And she could be a delightful conquest. He shivered, thinking about that night in the garden when he had held his hand over her mouth and silenced her. How much sweeter would that moment have been if they were in the privacy of his bedchamber? Or even his study?

Gerard’s trousers grew tight in anticipation. It would take some time to win the spinster’s affections, but he was a patient man. She might not be the sweet flower that Lady Bridget was, but she was nonetheless rare.