Page 13 of A Simple Scandal (Millionaires of Mayfair #3)

Twelve

A mesbury

Nine years ago

With speed like a flying arrow, Dane’s eyesight immediately homed in on Grace, who stood adjacent to the willow tree where they always met. The field butted against Pelham Hall land and her father’s summer estate on the other. It was where they’d shared their first innocent kiss and intimate embrace. Ack! Dane had to put such thoughts aside. His legs ate up the distance between them. He had never been this furious except yesterday morning when his father had forbidden him from marrying Grace.

And then, to add insult to injury, he’d received her letter saying she thought they should speak about the future of their betrothal.

By the time he reached her side, he was panting. “What is the meaning of this?” He shook the letter before her, demanding her attention.

Her eyes widened as she studied his face. “What happened?” She reached to cup his cheek, but he drew his head back.

“Nothing,” he said curtly.

Nothing was that his angry father had pummeled him in the face when Dane had dared to inform him that he was of age and would marry whom he pleased. The duke didn’t take kindly to such insolence and had let Dane know when his left fist collided with Dane’s right eye.

It hurt like the devil and was already turning black and blue. Yet even though he was angry with Grace, he didn’t want to make her worry about his father’s beating.

“It looks like it hurts,” she said softly.

He didn’t answer. He could not be distracted by her gentle words or sweet scent. Both drove him wild.

“Why do you think we should reconsider our betrothal?” He was practically shouting, but he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours since he’d stayed up all night playing against Scoville. It wasn’t until the early hours of dawn that he’d managed to win everything, leaving the viscount in a foul mood.

But Dane was a gracious winner. He nodded his goodbye and then exited the Jolly Rooster as quickly as possible. He didn’t dawdle as the viscount had a reputation for being dangerously surly when he lost. Only when Dane arrived at Pelham Hall did he allow himself to bask in the glory of his winnings. He had enough money for him and Grace to live a pleasant life in London. They could rent a townhouse there and a small cottage in Amesbury. Even if his father lived to be a ripe old age, Dane didn’t need his approval or funds now to make a happy life for his Grace.

But the idea she called off the betrothal only a day after he’d proposed would not stand.

He took a deep, calming breath before he spoke another word.

“Grace, answer me,” he urged. Whatever doubts she had, he would assure her she was not making a mistake by marrying him.

She lifted a defiant chin and locked her gaze with his. “My father visited the Jolly Rooster last night. This was after I’d said you would call on him today and ask for my hand in marriage.”

She bit her lip, and he practically groaned at the sight. It had just been yesterday morning, but it seemed like a year since he’d sucked on those luscious red lips and tasted her sweetness.

“Why were you with those women? Did you think about me at all last night?

Dane had to be hallucinating. His eyelids felt weighted down by bricks. He closed his eyes and shook his head. When he forced his eyes open, the specter was still there with a gaze that pierced his. Grace stood at the card room's entrance in all her glorious fury.

Winston stood next to her, wringing his hands. This had to be a dream. There was no conceivable way his butler could be there. Dane had instructed the man to keep Grace occupied at Pelham Hall until he returned.

It was a mirage or perhaps a nightmare.

How long had he been here? For the love of all aches to the head, would that military drum corps quit the incessant marching through his brain? He’d never been so foxed before in his life.

Wait. He hadn’t had a drop to drink this evening. The glass of amber liquid before him had been poured as soon as he sat down. He’d never picked up the glass. There had to be something wrong with him. He felt as if he’d imbibed in an entire bottle of Scotland’s finest whisky, and it was the day after.

An irritating buzzing flitted around the room. He turned to see Brixworth saying something to Grace. Dane tried to get him to repeat it, but he didn’t have the energy to open his mouth. Whatever he said, his Grace didn’t like it. Her face turned the palest shade of white, reminding him of fluffy, cuddly snow. But snow wasn’t cuddly. Perhaps that was why he was shivering. Snow was frigid. Yes, that had to be it.

But as he studied Grace’s complexion, he decided it wasn’t white. It was gray. No, cream. It reminded him of a baby swan’s down. What were they called? Cigars? Signets?

Cygnets. How could he forget? He had a hundred of them at Pelham Hall. With twelve breeding pairs, he’d been overrun by baby swans this year. He considered them adorable but dangerous. Emmy had learned never to approach a nesting pair of parents as they were vicious when they thought their babies were in danger.

But Dancer was another story. That cat had already used one of its nine lives when he got too close to a nest. When the male swan had batted him with his powerful wing, Dancer sailed through the air, all the while yowling in protest.

Dane chuckled, but what erupted from his mouth sounded like a honking goose.

What was the matter with him tonight?

Brixworth opened his mouth.

Dane couldn’t quite hear the words, but there was no mistake. By the looks of shock on the other players’ faces, the man had insulted Grace.

By Zeus, he would challenge the arse to a duel. He’d done it before to his best friends. He wouldn’t hesitate to offer one to Brixworth. He dug in his waistcoat to find a glove or a handkerchief. He’d slap the man and challenge him in front of everyone. Grace would see how serious he was about her wellbeing.

Where was his bloody handkerchief? He tried to stand up, but gravity was against him. It wasn't easy to move. The dueling would have to wait. First, he had to get Grace out of the Jolly Rooster. He didn’t want her further distressed.

“Winston, get her out of here.”

Who was screeching like a cat defending its territory at midnight?

Bloody hell. It was him.

Well, he was a duke and had every right to screech, bellow, or growl. Besides, they were in his gambling hell. Must abide by his rules.

The apparition, who looked remarkably like his Grace , turned and disappeared into thin air. How did she do that? He’d have to ask his Grace to show him that trick. It would come in handy when he wanted to escape ballrooms.

He laughed and instantly started to cough.

His beautiful Grace. He should marry her. He’d ask her tonight, right after he won the deed for the estate next to Pelham Hall. He didn’t care about the estate; he wanted the field where he and Grace used to meet. Maybe he’d propose to her there. She’d say yes. He’d obtain a special license and marry her tonight at Pelham Hall. That meant he’d need to go to London to secure the license, but he could rest if he slept the entire way there and back. He’d invite Honoria, Pippa, Trafford, and Ravenscroft. His whole family would be there.

First things first. He had to finish this game quickly so he could marry Grace. His lips turned down. She better not leave him again as she had the first time he had asked her to marry him.

Wait. Was she the one who left?

Perhaps he was the one who had left her, but that didn’t matter. He could tell by the haughty expression on her face that day when she asked why he’d been gambling that it didn’t make any difference how he answered. She was leaving. So, he did what anyone in his position would have done. He left her first. He was accustomed to people leaving him.

Every time someone left him, it felt like being stabbed in the chest. All the people who mattered to him abandoned him. His father had built a dining room for him at Eton to share meals during his visits. But he never traveled to Eton. He had left Dane there and never returned.

Then Grace had left him.

Now they would marry, and she wouldn’t leave him again. However, marrying Grace meant he had tasks to accomplish. He had to win that deed and then throw Brixton out.

God, was that him shaking like a leaf? They must be in Antarctica.

When Grace married him, that would make him feel better.

But first, he had to teach Brixworth a lesson.

With a monumental effort, he cleared his throat. “This is the last hand of vingt et un.”

“Ready to run after Lady Grace?” Brixworth chided with a feigned grin.

“Yes, as a matter of fact.” He was about to add that he would marry her tonight but then thought better of it. “It’s time for you to go home.” Dane leaned forward and prayed he didn’t fall face-first into the table. “If you win this hand, I’ll give you the Jolly Rooster.”

Gasps spread across the room.

Dane blinked slowly. “If I win, you shall give me the deed to Sommer House and the surrounding land. Then you shall leave tonight and never return to any property that I own.”

Brixworth threw his head back and stared at the ceiling as he laughed. The skin on his neck jiggled with each guffaw. No one else dared laugh with him. They all knew what it meant to be thrown out of the Jolly Rooster. No one in polite society would have anything to do with Brixworth again. That’s how much influence Dane had over London. Everyone wanted to gamble here. Even the king, who counted Brixworth as a close confidant, had gambled here and declared it was one of his favorite establishments in England. That had only added to its popularity.

“Let’s make it interesting. The dealer won’t play. It’ll be you and me against the other.” Dane winged an eyebrow. “You agree?”

“It’ll be my pleasure to win the infamous Jolly Rooster from you. Then I shall throw you out.” Brixworth took a drink of his brandy.

“We shall see.” Dane nodded to the dealer. He placed one card face down in front of each of them, then another card, this time face up, alongside the first.

Brixworth had a ten of diamonds in front of him.

“My lord, would you care for another card?” the dealer politely inquired.

“No.” Brixworth turned with a smile and stared at Dane.

Dane’s card was the five of hearts. He blew out a silent breath. What was the rule about asking for another card? For the life of him, he couldn’t remember. Didn’t you ask for another card if you had a card with a five or lower number?

Or was it a card with the number three or below? He wiped the sweat from his brow. When had it gotten so bloody hot in here? He’d speak to his innkeeper about this. Why couldn’t they keep the inn at the perfect temperature instead of having it hot one minute, then cold the next? He wiped his face again, hoping to clear the mindless muck cavorting in his thoughts.

He had to find Grace. With a wave of his wrist covered in white lace, he motioned for the dealer to give him another card.

Again, the crowd who had gathered around him gasped. Murmurs started to grow in volume.

“What is wrong with him? Everyone knows you don’t ask for a card unless a three or below is dealt.”

Hush,” someone scolded. “His Grace knows what he’s doing.”

Whoever that was, he would give the man a raise for his faith in Dane’s strategizing abilities. Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing, and he didn’t care at that moment.

The dealer flicked a card and placed it next to Dane’s five of hearts.

It was a six of clubs.

Sighs of relief ricocheted off the walls.

The dealer asked Dane if he wanted another.

Dane frowned as he looked at the cards on the table. He struggled to focus on them but knew then that he’d bloody forgotten how to play the game. Thankfully, fate was looking out for him. He shook his head as he tried to clear the fog from his head.

“Very well,” the dealer said before he flipped Brixworth’s card and revealed it to be a ten of clubs.

That made twenty.

Dane straightened in his seat and nodded at the dealer. When he flipped his card, it revealed the jack of hearts. The sight of the hearts reminded him of Grace— his Grace. He slowly gazed at each of his employees in the room, all cheering him on. Gradually, a welcome rush of euphoria eased the pounding of his headache.

A chorus of shouts filled the room as everyone, including Dane, realized he had beaten Brixworth. He pumped his fist in the air. Sommer House was his. Now, he would throw that bastard Brixworth out of the Jolly Rooster, then take his carriage to Pelham Hall and marry Grace.

Or should he marry Grace first?

Did he have a carriage here, or did he ride his horse? Why couldn’t he remember anything?

“Your Grace, no need to concern yourself with cleaning the garbage.” William Atwater leaned close and laughed softly. “I’ll ensure that his lordship signs the deed and is escorted from here immediately.”

Dane would have smiled, but it took too much effort.

His majordomo frowned slightly. “Are you all right, sir? Perhaps you should rest. Shall I have your room prepared for you?”

“No.” Dane slowly stood. “I need to marry Grace.”

Grace wadded the gown she’d worn to dinner into a ball and stuffed it in her travel bag. She’d be the first in the carriage at dawn if she had her druthers. Lord Marbury had said that they’d leave at first light. Dawn could not break soon enough for her.

How could she have allowed herself to be duped by Dane? Blissfully ignorant, she had allowed her heart to soften toward him. And be trampled once again. She had practically presented it to him on a silver platter. She had been swept away in his arms and lost in his all-consuming kisses. What woman would not? She had always promised herself that she would never allow her heart to become malleable again for a man.

Not after Dane Ardeerton had torn it into a million pieces.

But it was a good thing she’d gone to the Jolly Rooster this evening and seen the evidence for herself. He hadn’t changed. He was still the selfish, arrogant man from her youth.

And he still kissed divinely, just like he had nine years ago.

She growled as she fisted her hands by her side. “I cannot and will not think of him or his kisses again.”

She stilled when a battering ram pounded on her door.

“Let me in.”

A drunk Dane was on the other side of her door.

“Go away.” She crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t ladylike to yell through a door, but she refused to give in to his demands. It had to be well past two o’clock in the morning.

“I know you are in there.” He pounded the door again and again. “Let me in, or…”

Everything grew quiet, and she released a sigh of relief.

“I’ll break the door down,” he roared.

“For the love of all dukes,” she murmured as she marched across her room. He would likely wake the entire household if she did not appease him. If Marbury found Dane, he’d probably challenge him to a fisticuffs match. As drunk as Dane was, he wouldn’t have a fighting chance. She shouldn’t care, but she did, even though he’d hurt her by having those women glued to his side. However, she would not allow history to repeat itself. She would stay strong and determined. She swung open the door. “Really, Dane? What is so important…”

Gripping the doorframe, Dane leaned to one side with his eyes closed, resting his head against one hand. He resembled a statue of Atlas, balancing the world's weight on his shoulders. He didn’t spare her a glance.

He looked as if he’d lost his best friends in the world.

He probably had since the two women from the Jolly Rooster had disappeared.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

She still had to fire him as a client. That was why she’d initially gone to see him. She straightened slightly. She had business to take care of, and now was as good a time as any to say everything she needed. “We cannot work with each other anymore. I’m not even certain we should stay friends.” She nodded in relief, then scowled slightly. “I’m not even certain we were friends in the first place,” she mumbled.

His eyes were still closed. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Dane, did you hear me?”

“Yes.” Before he could say another word, he coughed. He was so hoarse that he could have been mistaken for a seal. He cleared his throat and then locked his bloodshot eyes on her face. “I agree that you no longer work for me.”

“If you’re trying to say that you don’t need my services anymore, you’re too late. I just dismissed you as a client. I was on my way to the Jolly Rooster tonight to tell you the same.” She crossed her arms and squeezed her waist, desperate for some warmth. She’d always thought she would feel jubilation at telling him she was finished with him, but the exact opposite was true. A chilling emptiness filled her.

He waved an arrogant hand in dismissal. “I do not need your services because I found my duchess.”

She gulped a breath as her heart galloped at a breakneck speed. “One of those women sitting on your lap this evening?”

“What are you talking about? No. Those women are my employees.” He shook his head. The movement caught him off balance, and he swayed for a second before he gripped the door frame tighter. “I found my duchess. You. ” He tried to grin, but it turned into a scowl. “You’re going to be my duchess. That’s why I’m here.” His words grew louder. “Do you hear me? You’re my Duchess. ”

“Yes, I hear you,” she whispered. “Now, keep your voice down. People are sleeping.”

“Oh. You said yes.” He looked taken aback momentarily, then glanced over his shoulder and bellowed, “Good night, everyone.”

“Please, Dane,” she hissed.

“You will marry me.” He nodded once. “I heard you say yes. I asked you, and you said yes. You’re a woman of your word.”

This entire conversation was getting out of hand. “I said yes that I heard you. I didn’t say yes, I’d marry you. And I won’t marry you.”

“Yes, you will. I want you.” He took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I want you for my duchess.”

“Dane, you’re repeating yourself.”

He arched one eyebrow. “I’m a duke. I can do whatever I want.”

She blew out a breath. “We cannot marry. You were with two other women tonight?—”

Slowly, he raised his red-rimmed eyes to hers. “I told you that they are my employees. Didn’t you hear me?”

She didn’t say anything. He sounded exhausted.

“Now, Grace,” he admonished. “For the love of God, please end my misery. My literal misery. Just say yes again so you know you have agreed.”

“Are you hurting?” For the first time that evening, she truly saw him. Instantly, the urge to comfort him became unbearable. The poor man wasn’t drunk; he was unwell. Heat radiated from his body, and his face was flushed. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“I hurt all over.” He leaned his entire body against the door and patted the middle of his chest. “Particularly here. My heart hurts. It hurts for you.”

“Oh, Dane,” she murmured, ignoring what he’d said. “Let me get Winston. You should be abed.”

“Don’t be stubborn, woman. I’m not leaving until you say yes. But you already said yes.” Then, without warning, he fell forward and landed at her feet.

She dropped to her knees and brought his head into her lap. She brushed her hand across his forehead and cheeks. His skin was hotter than a blacksmith’s fire.

“Grace,” he murmured. “I’m dying.”

“ Winston, ” she screamed. “It’s the duke.”