Page 25 of A Duke But No Gentleman (Masters of Seduction #1)

Chapter Fourteen

The minute the butler had announced the Duke of Blackbern was standing in their front hall and was requesting to speak privately with the Duke of Trevett’s elder daughter, Imogene had forgotten about the letter she was writing and headed for the door.

“If you hope to catch that particular duke, I suggest that you strive not to appear so eager,” her mother said, not even glancing up from her sewing.

“Yes, Mama. It is good advice,” she said, deciding flattery was the best course to soften her mother’s opinion toward Blackbern.

Imogene had not told anyone—not even her marriage-wary duke—but she intended to marry him. The last few weeks, she had demonstrated to Tristan that she was the perfect mistress; now it was time to show him that what he really needed was a duchess to fill his house with love and laughter.

She also had to convince her mother.

“I will pass along your regards to Blackbern,” Imogene said, pretending not to hear the disgruntled sound the duchess made in her throat when she disagreed. She quietly shut the door and headed downstairs.

Tristan had his back to her when she descended the staircase. His attire suggested he had plans to travel. This was not a social visit.

“When are you leaving?”

He turned at her solemn question. His possessive gaze inspected every inch of her. It gave her hope that he would return to her. “Good afternoon, my lady. You look quite fetching in that dress. It puts color in your cheeks.”

“I thought that was your favorite task,” she teased.

“Unfortunately, I will have to delegate the pleasurable task to Norgrave and your other suitors.” His demeanor was formal for the benefit of anyone who might be eavesdropping, but she noted the apology in his eyes. “I have neglected some important estate matters and they can no longer wait.”

“How long will you be gone?” she demanded, resisting the urge to make him feel guilty over leaving her.

“Four days. Maybe longer.” Tristan bent his head near her ear. “I shall miss you.”

Imogene nodded, struggling not to cry. “Have a safe journey, Blackbern.” Before he could step away, she kissed him on the cheek. “I love you.”

He straightened and stared at her as if he could not quite trust his hearing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and the expanding pain in her chest when he did not echo her declaration. It was unfair to demand something he could not offer her freely.

To prove that she could walk away from him, she smiled at him. “If I get betrothed, I will write you so you can return for the wedding.”

Content that she had had the last word, she turned on her heel and walked to the stairs. Her foot had not touched the third step before Tristan had caught up to her, snatched her off the stairs, and kissed her hard enough that she would feel his mouth on hers an hour later.

“I will challenge any man who offers to marry you,” he said, the violence in his eyes contradicting the gentleness of his touch. “If you care for any of these simpering fools, you will wait for my return.”

He stalked off, not even interested in her response.

Imogene brought her fingers to her lips. Suddenly she grinned and her mood lightened. His threat was not the declaration she longed for, but he had days alone to improve on it.

***

Norgrave sought out Imogene as soon as he learned of Blackbern’s departure.

Imogene’s face warmed with affection when he entered the drawing room. “Lord Norgrave, how kind of you to pay us a visit!” She extended her hand, and he was pleased he had a reason to touch her.

He bowed over her hand.

“Lady Imogene,” he murmured for her mother’s benefit. “Your Grace, I trust you are well?”

“No worse than any other day, Lord Norgrave. Thank you for asking,” the duchess politely replied.

He suspected the older woman did not approve of him. If so, he doubted Blackbern fared any better with the lady.

“Mama, with your permission, I would like to show Lord Norgrave our gardens since it is a temperate afternoon,” Imogene said, stepping in front of him as if she thought he needed her protection.

“An excellent suggestion,” her mother murmured.

Imogene hesitated. “Would you care to join us?”

“I will have to regretfully decline. Of late, my left ankle has been troubling me.” The duchess waved her and Norgrave off. “Enjoy your walk.”

Once they were out of the drawing room, Imogene linked her arm through his. “I cannot believe you are here. How did you know I needed rescuing?”

He wondered how she would react if he stopped and kissed her. Since he did not want to ruin the moment, he resisted his impulses and patted her hand. “I am pleased to be of service, my lady, though I cannot fathom why you needed saving from your sweet mother.”

Imogene laughed as they descended the stairs. “Mama is weary of the endless stream of suitors who have been filing through our drawing room. She laments that I have not narrowed my choices to one or two gentlemen.”

“So few,” he teased. “You are young and deserve to be courted by dozens of suitors.”

As long as Imogene chose the right gentleman at the end of the season.

With Blackbern out of town, Norgrave intended to use the duke’s absence to his advantage.

He might have taunted his friend into agreeing to the wager, but his time with her had convinced him that the lady had value beyond a quick fuck.

He had already surmised that Imogene had tender feelings for his friend, but he was confident that nothing would come of it.

He, on the other hand, had higher aspirations for the future, and with Imogene at his side, he would achieve them.

“Perhaps I should have you speak to my mother and father,” Imogene grumbled, obviously frustrated by her family’s interference.

Norgrave believed that with a little effort, he could sway the duke and duchess to his side. “I am honored you view me as an ally.”

They crossed the front hall.

“Of course,” she said cheerfully. “You are a good friend.”

Damn it, how could she not see that he was more than a friend? Once she discovered the shallowness of Blackbern’s affection and scrubbed the stardust from her eyes, she would finally see the man willing to stand by her.

Imogene paused at the hall table to retrieve the bonnet she had removed earlier. As she picked it up, her reticule hidden underneath it tumbled to the floor. She muttered something about clumsiness and knelt down to gather up the items that had spilled on impact.

“Allow me,” he offered, kneeling beside her. He picked up her reticule and suddenly stilled at what he had discovered beneath it. Before she could react, he grabbed the key.

She nibbled her lower lip in dismay. “If I may have it, I will—”

“I recognize this key,” he said, holding it just out of her reach. His gaze was solely focused on the last item he expected her to have concealed in her reticule. “Did Blackbern give this to you?”

Imogene stared at him. Guilt shimmered in her eyes as she nodded. “I was not supposed to tell anyone.”

His hand closed around the key. Blackbern was not careless with his possessions. Until this moment, Norgrave had been the only one who had a key to the duke’s house. Even if Imogene did not fully comprehend the meaning behind the gesture, he saw it with brilliant clarity.

Blackbern had been lying to him.

At some point, his friend had won their little wager by seducing Imogene. Instead of gloating about it to Norgrave, he had given the lady the key to his mother’s house.

Blackbern had finally fallen in love.

The realization roiled in his gut like an oily tar.

“I have not used it,” Imogene confessed, his silence making her nervous. “Tri—Blackbern insisted that I keep it.”

“Our friend is generous that way.” It was a measure of his control that he stood and offered her the key instead of backhanding her with his closed fist. “Forgive me, my lady, I regretfully cannot enjoy your mother’s gardens. I forgot about a prior commitment.”

Uncertain, Imogene accepted the rest of the items he pressed into her hands. “You are welcome to call again, Norgrave.”

“I shall return, Imogene. Perhaps I can help you cross a few suitors off your long list,” he said, the smile on his face never reaching his eyes.

“I would appreciate any help.”

Norgrave kissed her hand and turned away. It was not until he had returned to his coach that he allowed his fury to surface. His dark thoughts were consumed with Blackbern and Imogene.

He had sorely underestimated his friend.

And Imogene.

Had the two of them laughed at his failed attempts to seduce her?

Norgrave slammed his fist against the glass window until it fractured into a delicate web of sharp splinters. The pain focused his thoughts and a plan of revenge began to form in his head.

When he was finished, Blackbern would rue the day he had betrayed their friendship. And Imogene—the duplicitous lady needed to be punished.

He was the perfect man for the task.