Page 26 of Courting Scandal With The Duke

‘She looks like a perfectly pleasant young woman. No doubt if Father could have come up with a mill owner’s son for me, he would have. Provided he was rich.’ After all, he had married her off to a man old enough to be her grandfather to further his ambitions.

‘Never!’ Aunt Lenore declared. ‘It would ruin the family name and you know how important that is to your father.’

‘Too bad Father didn’t have a son. The family name dies with him.’

‘Not for the want of trying,’ Aunt Lenore said.

No indeed. Barbara had never been enough for him. He’d kept trying until her mother had died in childbirth. What she did not understand was why he never married again.

Still, he had lots of time to father an heir; after all, he was only sixty. Far younger than the man he had first married her off to.

The theatre lights dimmed.

In the dark, Barbara became doubly aware of Xavier at her back.

She felt as if his gaze rested upon her and not the stage.

She did her best to resist the urge to look at him, but it was no use.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Their gazes met.

Heat zipped along her veins. She could feel the echo of his hands on her skin, his lips on hers. Desire rose.

She cast him a provocative smile intended to acknowledge the sensations she was feeling as well as tease him with the promise of the future.

His indrawn breath, a light hiss of sound that no one else would notice, was a joy to her ears.

His response stirred excitement low in her belly, and a whisper of something painful in her heart.

There was no reason not to be pleased at his reaction. She wanted to storm his defences, make him forget he was a gentleman.

But she did not want to lose control of her own emotions. She had fallen hard for Helmut, against her better judgement, and look how well that turned out.

Never again would she trust a man to have her best interests at heart. Her father had not. Helmut had not, and certainly there was no reason to think Derbridge would be different.

Barbara focussed on the play. Some sort of farce.

Aunt Lenore seemed utterly engrossed, as did the other two ladies, laughing at the antics of the actors, but all Barbara could think about was Xavier sitting behind her.

The scent of his cologne filled her nostrils, the warmth of his large body seemed to permeate through her gown and heat her back, his breath surely brushed her cheek.

Again, against her will, she glanced over her shoulder. As she did so, a large warm hand rested lightly on her waist.

‘Are you in need of something?’ he asked.

You. It was a shocking admission, even if it was only to herself. ‘No thank you. ’

He leaned back, the flimsy chair creaking beneath his weight. Such a large man.

And the loss of his hand’s warmth made her shiver. How ridiculous.

She had been attracted to him from the very first moment she saw him. Was she become a moth to his flame instead of the other way around? Her breathing shortened.

Perhaps, after all, he was the wrong man to use for her purpose.

Xavier knew he was behaving badly, despite the presence of others in his box.

All of them would have realised by now where his interest lay.

He took a deep breath and sat back in his seat.

What was it about this woman that made him forget all of his good resolutions?

He had thought the trading of a few hearty blows yesterday at the gymnasium would have tired him out and cooled any trace of recklessness.

Apparently not, since he wished like hell that he was alone with Barbara, instead of hosting a bunch of other people in whom he had no interest at all.

Well, except for Julian. Maybe.

Barbara wasn’t exactly helping matters. The brief but all too provocative glances she sent his way were enough to drive a man to insanity.

With just a look, she could remind him of the way she had felt beneath him in that little bed in the cottage.

The way he had felt coming apart while he was inside her. The heat of their mutual bliss.

The peace of the aftermath, where he had no thoughts but an incredible sense of well-being.

He had thought that by bedding her, he would bring this unnatural fascination in her to an end. Instead, it had only increased his desire to bed her again.

But not just that. He enjoyed her company. She amused him.

She also made him wish things were different. Wish that he wasn’t bound to his duty and his title. Wish that he was free to please himself.

He clenched his fists at his sides. These were not the thoughts of a rational man.

He wasn’t a schoolboy fantasising about the headmaster’s wife or the cheeky upstairs maid. He was a duke, with responsibilities and the family honour to uphold. He had a duty to the title to find a suitable wife and ensure the future generations of Melvilles.

And the Countess, a widow and a woman who seemingly did not give a fig for her reputation, was not the wife he sought.

Thank God she did not seem to be interested in marriage. Marrying a woman who caused him to lose any semblance of control would be a disaster.

Was this what had happened to his father? Had he too been so entranced by his second wife as to lose all reason?

If Xavier allowed himself to think about those days, he certainly recalled his father being happy to the point of joyful.

And Xavier felt an odd twinge of envy.

The curtain went down and the liveried staff of the theatre entered to turn up the lights in the box.

Xavier rose and moved among his guests, offering refreshment. ‘How did you enjoy the farce?’ he asked Miss Graves, after she had indicated her wishes to the footman.

The young woman smiled brightly. ‘It made me laugh. I especially liked the horse. He was funny.’

There had been a horse?

Oh, right. Two men in a horse costume. He’d seen it, but it simply had not registered.

‘Indeed. Very amusing.’

From the corner of his eye he noticed Barbara slipping out of her chair and making for the exit.

He caught her before she opened the door. ‘May I be of assistance?’

Her eyes widened and he found himself being drawn into their velvety depths.

He blinked.

She had said… Oh, yes. The withdrawing room.

‘Miss Lowell should accompany you,’ he said, looking around for the older woman.

‘Oh,’ Miss Redhill said, ‘I need to freshen up. May I accompany you, Countess?’

Xavier stepped back and watched the two ladies join the throng in the hallway outside the box. They seemed to know where they were going.

‘What game are you playing?’ Julian said, joining him at the door.

He glanced down at his friend. ‘What do you mean?’

‘First, you cannot take your eyes off the Countess, and second, you look as if someone took a log to your head. I have never seen you so bruised. What did you do? Forget to duck?’

In truth, he’d been horribly distracted thinking about Barbara when he should have been focussing on his opponent. He wasn’t going to say that to Julian.

He touched his lip. ‘It’s nothing. A lucky shot.’

‘More than one, by the look of it.’

He certainly wasn’t going to tell his friend about the fine set of bruises on his ribs. ‘So?’

Julian shook his head. ‘And the Countess?’

‘You know very well I do not favour one woman over another. All the ladies here are my guests this evening.’

‘And you haven’t given the other two more than a perfunctory glance.’

‘You are imagining things.’

His friend shrugged. ‘As you wish.’

Xavier forced himself to leave the door and return with Julian to the rest of his guests, who were sipping champagne and discussing the play. He took a glass from the tray the footman offered him and joined Miss Lowell. The older woman gave him what he could only describe as a predatory smile.

‘So kind of you to invite us, Your Grace. Such an honour.’ She twitched at her shawl and patted her grey curls .

‘It is my pleasure,’ he said, wishing her and the rest of them to the devil.

What had made him think this was such a good idea?

A footman touched him on the elbow and handed him a card. ‘A gentleman at the door, Your Grace.’

He glanced at the card. Ah, yes. His new friend Charles. ‘Have him come in.’

Charles strode in, clearly looking around for the Countess.

Xavier shook his hand and the footman offered him a glass of champagne.

‘Good to see you again,’ Xavier said, trying to sound welcoming. ‘Your sister-in-law will be back in a moment or two.’

‘I hope she did not set out in the direction of my box,’ Charles said with his so charming smile.

Xavier tamped down his irritation. ‘She went with another lady to the withdrawing room.’

‘Ah, I see. Well, while we are waiting, I want to ask you about a horse that is running at Newmarket. I understand you are the expert.’

‘Well—’

‘He is,’ Julian said. ‘Which horse is it?’

‘It is one from his stable, actually. I was wondering if the Duke thought of him—Lucky Chance out of Lady Luck.’

Good God. Xavier had forgotten that the horse was running on the morrow. He’d been so busy making arrangements with regards to Barbara it had gone out of his mind. Never had that happened before.

He frowned. ‘I don’t give advice regarding entries from my stables,’ he said coolly. ‘The horse is fine. But there are several other good horses entered in that race.’

‘His Grace is modest,’ Julian said. ‘The horse is more than fine. I have money on it.’

Charles nodded at Julian. ‘Then I shall take your advice, my lord.’

‘And it is Julian you will blame if you lose your money,’ Xavier said a little more harshly than he intended. What was it about this fellow that rubbed him the wrong way? Not his relationship to Barbara, surely?

‘Charles!’ Barbara said, looking delighted. ‘How lovely to see you.’

Xavier gritted his teeth and smiled at the pair of them as if he was happy to see them reunited.

‘May I say how beautiful you look this evening,’ Charles said. His gaze focussed on her necklace and he seemed to tear his eyes away with difficulty to make his bow.

Too low a bow in Xavier’s opinion, and his smile far too charming. Fawning, he would call it, or ingratiating. Grovelling.

Hard to believe they were genuine after his warnings .

The Countess clearly welcomed his attention.

In Xavier’s opinion, he was someone Barbara should be wary of. Should he warn her? Or would she think he was interfering where he had no right? Worse yet, would she think he was jealous of the fellow?

Perhaps it was all in his imagination.