Page 37 of A Duke But No Gentleman (Masters of Seduction #1)

As Lady Ludsthorpe’s ball drew closer, Imogene expected the butler to announce the Duke of Blackbern’s arrival, but he had kept to his word and he had stayed away from her.

Instead he courted her from afar. Not a day went by without their butler or the housekeeper presenting her with a new gift from her betrothed.

In the beginning of their blossoming friendship, he had offered her heart-melting kisses and his beautiful, flawless muscled body before he thought to offer her his heart.

Her hesitation to believe that his love was genuine had struck an unintended blow.

He might have deserved her disdain if she had learned of his and Norgrave’s wager a month ago, but his tender care after Norgrave’s cruelty had been a balm to her wounded soul.

If she did not quite trust her instincts, she only had to look to her family.

They had accepted him into the family, and now everyone was waiting for her to come to her senses.

If only her decision was based solely on hurt feelings.

Imogene had already forgiven Tristan for agreeing to the wager.

She understood that his decision to pursue and seduce her had started out for selfish reasons; however, his presence had deterred Norgrave from carrying out his nefarious plans.

If the marquess had been a good man, the wager might have ended with Tristan as the declared winner.

To her deepest regret, Norgrave was not a graceful loser.

Nor did he plan on allowing her to escape unpunished for choosing the wrong man.

If everything had gone as planned perhaps she would have walked away from both gentlemen—heartbroken, albeit wiser.

Imogene smiled at the absurd thought. Tristan had no intention of allowing her to escape him. Even though he was keeping his distance, a day had not passed without a messenger knocking on their front door with a note or a gift from the exasperating man.

“I did not court you as I should have,” he had written in his first note. “Pray accept my tokens of affection and dream of me, darling.”

Tristan had sent her a yellow-green canary in an iron and ivory birdcage on the first day, and enameled scent bottles with her favorite fragrance on the second.

On the third day, a pair of silver shoe buckles with paste stones arrived, followed by a ruby and pearl pendant attached to a gold and enamel chain, a small garnet ring, and a delicate hand-painted fan.

He included his calling card with each gift, and had written three words on the back.

I love you.

“If you do not marry him, perhaps I will,” Verity had said as she tried on the garnet and gold ring. “Blackbern is handsome and generous… not to mention, he has excellent taste.”

Imogene had written him a note after the arrival of each gift, asking him to call on her in person, but her requests were ignored. She was running out of time.

Imogene knew what Tristan wanted. If she expected him to beg, she would continue to wait in vain. A gentleman—even one in love—had his pride. So with Lady Ludsthorpe’s assistance, she had left the sanctuary of her home and arrived at the duke’s private residence.

His butler, McKee, looked almost relieved to see her. She stepped into the front hall, and was surprised when the countess did not follow.

“I have done my part in bringing you here. I believe you and Tristan can handle the rest,” Lady Ludsthorpe said, raising her hand in farewell. “With the ball tomorrow, I have a dozen tasks to accomplish this afternoon.”

That fact alone made her gesture even more priceless. “Aunt Ruth?”

She halted as her thoughtful gaze sharpened with expectation. “Yes, dear.”

“Thank you,” Imogene said.

The countess’s expression brightened. “You will be a nice addition to our family, Imogene. If Tristan is too busy to escort you back to the house, then send one of his servants to fetch our coachman. I promised your mother and father that I would look after you, and I will not hear of you hiring a hackney coach. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, madam,” Imogene said, still smiling even after the butler had shut the front door.

“McKee, where will I find the duke?”

“I believe His Grace is on the terrace. He was practicing with his sword, and asked not to be disturbed.”

She did not have to guess why Tristan was honing his sword skills. Clearly, he had time both to court her and plot his revenge against Norgrave. “Oh, I see.” Imogene bit her lower lip in consternation. “He is not expecting me. How angry do you think he will be if I interrupt his training?”

The butler shook his head. “His Grace has a standing order with the staff that you are allowed entry at any hour.”

Imogene was stunned by McKee’s revelation. Tristan valued his privacy. Before her, he had never brought one of his lovers to his town house. “When did he issue this order?”

“Well, I cannot recall the precise date, my lady.” He gave her an apologetic glance. “However, I believe His Grace issued the order after your first visit.”

So much had transpired since that night.

For a few minutes, Imogene could not speak because she feared she would break down in tears.

For a man who rarely trusted anyone, he had opened his private house wholly to her.

Although she had been unaware of this, his order revealed more about his feelings than he had been willing to admit at the time.

“C-could you show me the quickest way to the back terrace, McKee?”