Page 18 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

When he’d checked his diary, it was clear he had not accepted the Anderson’s invitation, but in the absence of his secretary, nor had he declined.

While they would not be expecting him, he doubted they would turn him away even though he knew them only vaguely.

As he recalled, they fancied themselves to be intellectuals, friends to artists and so forth.

Their circle consisted of a lot of painters, sculptors, writers of bad poetry and the like.

People whose morals, in his view, left much to be desired, if only half of the rumours about them were true.

The sort of people Great-Uncle Tom would mutter about as not good ton .

He locked up the cottage and returned to his phaeton. The night was unusually warm given how bad the weather had been this summer and, since the moon was full, he had decided to drive himself.

At the point where the lane joined the main road, he hesitated. Did he really want to go to this party? Was he really unable to resist the lure of this woman?

Devil take it. He had already made this decision. He was going.

He turned left, passing through the village of Chelsea and turning into the drive of the Anderson mansion.

The windows at the front of the house were ablaze with the light of candles, and several carriages were parked along the edge of the driveway.

He could hear the sounds of music and chatter as he pulled up. It seemed the ball was not inside the house but outdoors.

After leaving his equipage with a groom, he walked around the side of the house rather than entering by way of the front door.

The terrace and the garden beyond were lit by lanterns hanging from trees and posts.

Couples were waltzing on the flagstones to the music of an orchestra who were inside the house beyond the open French windows, while groups of people chatted and mingled on the lawn.

It reminded him of Vauxhall without all the hoopla.

A waiter approached him with a tray and he helped himself to a flute of champagne. Very good champagne.

‘Your Grace?’ A stout balding gentleman approached him, beaming. ‘Anderson, at your service.’ He bowed deeply. ‘How good of you to come. My wife will be delighted.’

No doubt. ‘Thank you for your invitation. I regret I did not reply. My secretary is away on family business at the moment.’

‘Oh, no need to worry about that, Your Grace. You are always welcome.’

Xavier stifled a yawn. It would be more interesting if just once someone told him to leave. ‘Thank you.’

‘Let me introduce you to some of our guests. Some are inside dancing, but most are out here in the garden where it is cooler.’

Xavier glanced around. ‘No need. I believe I know most people here.’

‘Well. I do not believe you have met my wife.’ Anderson led him to a dark-haired woman as thin as Anderson was corpulent. ‘My dear, His Grace the Duke of Derbridge is here.’

The woman spun around. She curtseyed deeply, clearly trying to hide her surprise. ‘Your Grace. What an honour.’

‘You have a fine night for a party,’ he said.

Her face lit up. ‘To be honest, we did not plan to be outdoors. It was only at the last minute this afternoon, when I realised how warm it was, that I asked our butler to see if he could put up some lights. He has worked wonders, I must say.’

‘Indeed he has.’

Xavier could not stop himself from looking around. Trying to see if the woman he had been thinking of all day was here.

‘He will be delighted by your compliment, Your Grace.’

What? Who? Oh, yes. The butler. ‘Good.’ He heard a distant splash. ‘Your property runs down to the river?’

‘It does. Some of the young people are punting. I am a little concerned about how safe it is in the dark, but you know young people. I should introduce you to our daughter. She can take you down there if you wish.’ She scanned the lawn.

‘Now where has she gone? She was here a moment ago. I will find her for you.’

Exactly what he needed. An introduction to another young female in search of a titled husband.

‘Do not trouble yourself. I will find my own way.’ He bowed and wandered off, aware that Mrs Anderson would no doubt scurry off to find the missing daughter to announce the news of his miraculous appearance.

He should not have come.

That was the trouble with those who lived at the edge of the ton . They didn’t understand that a Duke was not a prize stallion waiting to be put to the stud at their convenience.

Which was maybe what made the Countess so interesting. She made no effort to attract his attention. In fact, quite the opposite.

The idea was refreshing.

As he walked down the slope towards where he assumed he would find the river, the number of lanterns decreased until only one small string hanging from posts lit the way. He could see nothing either side of the path except a cluster of lights in the direction of the river.

As he drew closer, he could see the shape of the boat house, a few people sitting on benches on a dock, or milling about, and a couple of rowboats on the water near the dock.

No sign of the Countess, but something inside him said he would find her here, where people were doing risky things, like taking a boat out on the water with only the moon to light their way.

‘Good Lord, Derbridge. I didn’t expect to see you here.’

‘Julian, old fellow. Nor I you.’

They shook hands.

Julian introduced him to the people on the dock, none of whom he recognised, except the Countess’s brother-in-law.

‘I did not see you as someone who would enjoy this sort of romp,’ the Count of Lipsweiger and Upsal said. His teeth flashed white in the lantern light.

‘Nor I,’ Julian murmured.

Xavier shrugged. ‘I like to surprise. Is that your sister-in-law on the boat?’ he asked.

The Count peered out into the darkness of the river. ‘No. She was dancing the last time I saw her.’ He leaned closer to Xavier, lowering his voice. ‘May I offer a word of advice?’

‘About what?’

The Count glanced at Julian who took the hint and turned away to speak to one of the women.

The Count pursed his lips. ‘It is not my place, of course.’

The back of Xavier’s neck prickled strangely. There was something in the man’s tone that spoke of secrets. Xavier gave him a hard stare but saw only a blandness in his expression. ‘Speak up. I don’t bite.’

‘I suggest you beware of the Countess, that is all.’

‘Because?’ Xavier said.

The Count put up a hand. ‘Well, two husbands, two deaths… Enough to make any man wary, surely. But no doubt all a terrible coincidence.’

What the devil! Was he implying there was some truth to the Countess’s black widow title?

‘Ah, excuse me. Here are my friends. They will drown if they are not careful.’ He laughed lightly and moved off to assist a couple trying to alight from a skiff.

Frowning, Xavier gazed after him. He had no need of anyone’s advice. He was nothing if he was not careful. But the warning seemed strange coming from a relative the Countess seemed to like and trust. Perhaps the man desired her for himself.

An odd pang twisted in his chest. Jealousy? When did he ever have cause to be jealous of any man?

‘All is well?’ Julian asked, joining him again, also watching the Count steady the skiff.

‘Of course,’ Xavier said. ‘Why would it not be?’

‘You have a rather martial light in your eye, that is all. As if you want to give someone a good drubbing. ’

Xavier shook off his dark thoughts. And clapped his friend on the shoulder with a chuckle. ‘Nonsense.’

He didn’t give a fig what the Count thought. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself.

A breathless young woman joined them on the dock. ‘Papa is going to unveil the sculpture for the bidding. He wants everyone to return to the ball room.’

Xavier sighed. It was only when he had read the invitation that he had realised that the main purpose for the gathering was to auction off a sculpture in support of a new art gallery.

No doubt it would be the work of some unknown artist. And no doubt he would be expected to win the bidding.

He really did not like these sorts of public displays of giving. He preferred private donations to causes he deemed worthy.

Nevertheless he trailed the group making its way back to the house.

A shadow caught his attention. A person off to the side of the path, at the edge of the light.

His throat dried in an instant. He had no trouble recognising the woman. By her shape? By her scent? He wasn’t sure.

He moved to confront her. ‘Good evening, Countess.’

‘Duke. I heard you had arrived and had made your way down here.’

She had intentionally come to find him? His heart picked up speed. ‘I gather our host requests our presence in the ballroom.’

‘You go. It is too hot in there. I want to look at the stars and cool off.’

Did she never do anything in a normal civilised way?

‘Please go,’ she said. ‘I am perfectly content by myself.’

He wasn’t perfectly content to leave her alone in the dark.

‘I will walk with you.’

‘If you must.’

Hardly welcoming. He took her arm and walked her down the slope.

The little boats that had been out on the water were now tied neatly to the empty dock.

The Thames drifted by slowly on its way to the city, gently lapping against the bank.

She sat on one of the benches and looked up at the sky. ‘Too many trees to see the stars,’ she said.

He sat beside her and looked up. Only the moon was visible between the branches. ‘You would likely get a better view out on the river.’

She glanced at the boats. ‘Yes. You are right. If I knew how to row…’

‘Would you like to…’

They spoke at the same time. They laughed. It sounded awkward.

‘I can be your oarsman,’ he said. ‘If you wish.’

Like some sort of eager youth, he held his breath.