Page 13 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

‘How enchanting,’ he said with obvious sarcasm. ‘Briggs, I shall not need you any more today. I will see you back at the stables.’ The groom touched his hat and jumped down, his expression noncommittal.

‘So I was right.’

‘About what?’ said the Duke.

‘About you wanting to say something of a personal nature.’

A small smile touched his lips. ‘Yes, you are right.’

That smile did something to his face. While he was definitely handsome, when he smiled, he became more…human, less remote. That smile did something to her insides, made them flutter strangely. She did not like it at all. At least, she did not want to like it.

‘Well?’ she asked.

He did not answer, apparently busy guiding his horses around a brewer’s dray, where the unloading of casks was causing a good deal of commotion.

‘Why on earth are so many people gathered here?’ she asked, surprised by the crowd of unkempt folks on the pavement and dodging in front of the traffic.

He cast her a sardonic glance. ‘They are hoping a barrel will split and they can snatch up the dregs.’

They were past now and she looked back. Indeed, some of those gathered were holding pewter mugs and other containers, while the carter yelled at them to keep back if they didn’t want their toes crushed.

‘How awful that people feel the need to scoop beer from the ground.’ Cobblestones smeared with mud and dung and… She shuddered.

He did not answer, but his mouth set in a firm line as if he too were horrified by the idea.

They turned into Mayfair, and it was not long before they arrived at Hyde Park.

The fine weather had brought out the park saunterers and other open carriages. As they moved along the row, the Duke acknowledged acquaintances with a casual wave or a bow.

‘Well, Duke, what was it that you felt the need to say to me?’

His expression remained grim. ‘Since you seem to value the worth of direct speech, I will not mince words.’

He sounded almost…angry.

‘Please, feel free to unbridle your tongue.’

‘Very well.’ He paused for a second or two as if organising his thoughts.

‘I understand that living in Europe for the past many years means that you have not been exposed to the ways of English Society. From the first, you have been oblivious to the niceties of the good conduct expected of a well-brought-up young lady.’

She could not help it. Her jaw dropped and she gasped.

He cast her a look of irritation. ‘You said I should speak my mind.’

She got herself under control. After all, he was telling the truth. ‘Pray, continue.’

‘You see, while I do not know what standard of manners pertain to young ladies on the Continent, if you continue on as you are, you will find yourself cast out of any decent Society here. Surely that is not what you want?’

The mere fact that he was questioning her on that score gave her pause. This Duke was not a stupid man.

‘What have I done, that is so dreadful that Society would cast me out? As you put it.’

‘Has your aunt told you nothing of Society’s ways?’

She did not want to get Aunt Lenore in trouble. The poor dear was terrified Papa would cut off the allowance he was providing for Barbara’s care. ‘My aunt is a dear and I will not have her pilloried for my mistakes.’

He sighed. ‘I am glad to hear you say it, but I suppose you have her wrapped around your little finger.’

‘She keeps telling me that things are against the rules for those new upon the town, but she forgets I am not some ingenue up from the country. I have been married twice. Those rules do not apply to such as I. And besides, I do not see what business it is of yours.’

There, that ought to put an end to his sermonising.

She folded her hands in her lap.

Xavier did not know what business it was of his either. Even as he had spoken, he had felt the awkwardness of his position.

He had set out with good intentions, it was true, but who was he to give this woman a bear garden jaw? A cousin might take it upon himself, a brother perhaps or her father, but he was…a friend? Perhaps not even that. Merely an acquaintance.

Looking at her, with the first blush of womanhood—and perhaps a bit of anger—upon her cheek, it was hard to imagine that she could have been married twice.

‘I speak only as someone who has your best interests at heart,’ he said.

‘Pompous ass,’ she responded under her breath.

He decided to ignore her words. He doubted she knew she had spoken them out loud.

A woman passing in a barouche bowed in their direction.

Gloria Lang. Now Lord Glover’s mistress, she had thrown her lures at Xavier when he was first upon the town. He had succumbed to her charms briefly and ended by paying her handsomely to extricate himself, having discovered she was a money-hungry woman with the morals of an alley cat.

Xavier ignored her greeting.

‘Who was that?’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘The lady who greeted you and you did not acknowledge.’

‘I saw no lady.’

‘Aha. I see.’

He glanced down. Her dark eyes glittered with anger. Fascinating. It was the first time he had been able to read the expression in those mysterious depths.

‘What do you see?’

‘You consider her beneath your lofty notice. What did she do? Shop in Bond Street in the afternoon? Waltz three times with the same gentleman?’

He raised a brow at the litany of crimes she considered serious enough to warrant a cut direct.

‘You see, I was right. You have not the slightest town bronze. I fear you will fall afoul of the gossips before many more days are out. But since you do not appreciate my advice, I shall say nothing more.’

Her dark eyebrows drew together and she looked thoughtful. And enchanting. And quite beautiful.

‘I apologise,’ she said. ‘I was wrong to dismiss your concerns. Perhaps they had some merit. Aunt Lenore has been away from London Society for a long time and she has forgotten the most serious solecisms a lady might commit. If she ever knew them. I believe I might need someone to advise me. I would not like to be ignored in the manner you ignored that poor woman. She looked crushed.’

Astonished by the complete turnabout in her manner, by her small voice and obvious anxiety, he stared at her.

And ‘crushed’ was not the word he would have used to describe Gloria’s reaction. ‘Gnashing her teeth’ or ‘furious’ would be a better choice of words.

‘I think if the examples of dire social solecisms your aunt gave you are those you mentioned, she is indeed somewhat out of touch.’

‘Well, she did tell me not to wear red to Almack’s,’ the Countess said.

‘But honestly, I felt like that was more of a challenge than a rule. And I was careful to pick a colour which my dressmaker called geranium, since it had an orange hue rather that the blood red of Burgundy. I really cannot wear the virginal white that is expected of a debutante. That would be doing it too brown.’

‘You might have worn green, or yellow or…’

‘Ugh. With my skin tone all of those colours make me look insipid.’

She certainly had not looked insipid at Almack’s.

‘Well, you suffered no ill consequences from it, so it is of no matter.’

‘I suffered no ill consequences because you danced with me.’

Frank to a fault. He could not help it—he cracked a laugh.

She grinned back, a saucy, delighted grin that made him want to smile like a fool.

He lowered his brows in a frown.

‘And,’ she continued, ‘if I am not mistaken, while I assured everyone that my painted nails were all the go in Paris, it was not until you confirmed my words that people stopped turning their noses up.’

‘Quite possibly.’

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why do people accept your word as if it is gospel? Because you are a Duke?’

‘Partially, I expect. But also, I have shown myself to be a man of exemplary character, though I only say so because of the nature of our conversation. They trust I would not lie to them.’

She gave a little shiver. ‘Is that true? You would never lie?’

He thought for a moment. ‘I would not lie in order to cause someone harm or to give myself advantage over others.’

‘Oh, my.’

‘You find this remarkable?’

‘No, no,’ she said hastily. ‘Most admirable, I am sure.’

He had the feeling she was mocking him. He did not care. These were the mores he had been taught by his great-uncle after his parents died. All his life they had stood him in good stead.

They reached the end of the row and he turned the carriage around.

There were a great many more people in the park. Sooner or later, they would be forced to a stop by the slowing traffic, which would mean there would be no further opportunity for meaningful conversation.

She touched his arm in an impulsive movement. Tingles radiated from where her fingers gripped his sleeve.

Only by force of will did he prevent his arm from jerking away. Not because he did not like her touch. He did. Very much. But because the sensation of being touched so intimately was both delightful and shocking.

‘I know,’ she said, a smile breaking out on her face as she gazed up at him. He had the dreadful urge to kiss the corner of those upturned lips. ‘I have the perfect answer.’

Perfect answer for him kissing her mouth ?

‘I—’

‘My aunt made a list of the rules I should follow. Why don’t you make a list of the things that I absolutely must not do? Things that would be absolutely terrible, even for a widow. Then I will know exactly what I must avoid.’

Xavier stared at her, wanting to kiss her so very badly.

Kissing her would be a terrible thing to do. It would ruin her completely in the eyes of Society.

And yet he was so tempted.

Devil take it, the girl was a witch if she could make him forget himself so completely. He had almost decided Miss Simon was the one. He couldn’t go around kissing other women in public.

‘Kissing in public would be top of the list,’ he bit out.

‘Right,’ she said. She scrabbled in her reticule.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for my notebook. I need to write these things down. I don’t want to forget any.’

He spotted Julian approaching them on foot with the clear intention of greeting them.

‘We do not have time for this now. I will call on you later in the week, and that will give me time to prepare a list.’

She looked disappointed but shrugged. ‘Very well.’

‘I am sure you can manage to keep out of trouble until then,’ he said.

‘I can try. ’

‘No. You will do so.’

‘Well, I won’t kiss anyone in public,’ she said, suddenly cheerful.

Lord help him. He needed a change of topic.

‘Let me introduce you to my friend Pettigrew. We went to school together. I think you will like him.’

Everyone liked Julian. He was such an easy-going fellow compared to Xavier. Easy-going and in need of a rich wife. But Xavier doubted his friend could handle such a strong-willed female as the Countess had turned out to be.

Damn it, why would he even think that? If Julian wanted to marry the Countess, why shouldn’t he?