Page 35 of Dukes All Night Long

Jenny

London, England

J enny Armstrong crouched behind a potted fern at the Fletchers’ ball, hiding from Lord Duncan. His reputation alone warranted avoidance, but after tonight, evasion had become a necessity.

Peering through the leaves, she caught him sweeping the room with his gaze.

Hunting. For her. She had already endured one dance, suffocated by propriety and his overbearing cologne.

When he dipped his hand scandalously low and lingered on her breasts rather than her face, he confirmed every rumor. The man was a wolf in polished boots.

According to the latest gossip sheet, Lord Duncan was in pursuit of a wife with both beauty and a sizable dowry.

Unfortunately, she fit the mold. Not that such shallow matters held meaning for her.

If a man saw nothing beyond her face and fortune, he wasn’t worth seeing at all.

And if he thought to tempt her with some promise or pleasure, he’d better think twice.

“What in the devil are you doing?” someone called behind her.

She spun around and found her brother, Elias, and his wife, Lydia, both wearing amused smiles.

“Why might any woman hide at a ball?” she snapped. Surely her brother didn’t think she had suddenly developed some newfound fondness for plants.

His smile vanished. “Has someone troubled you?”

Elias, ever the overprotective brother, had assumed chaperone duties for the Season in their father’s stead. He’d done the same for her sister, Diana. Next year, it would be Grace’s turn. With three sisters to shepherd through the events each Season, she almost pitied him. Almost.

“Lord Duncan,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose. Jenny almost regretted tattling on the man, but if her brother kept him away, that would suit her just fine.

Elias stiffened. “What did he do?”

“He was… forward. And the scandal sheets don’t lie.”

She omitted the worst of it. If Elias knew the man had groped her, he’d demand satisfaction. Not that Duncan didn’t deserve a fist to the jaw, but she preferred to avoid a scene in the middle of a ball followed by a duel between her brother and the man in question.

Lydia looped her arm through Elias’s. “Don’t cause a stir, my love.”

“My intention is merely to speak to him,” Elias replied with barely restrained fury.

He crossed the ballroom with the deadly purpose of a man on a mission. Jenny and Lydia watched as he cornered Duncan, exchanged a few sharp words, and returned—obviously satisfied while Duncan stalked off.

“He won’t bother you again,” Elias said, reclaiming his place at Lydia’s side and then placing a quick kiss on her brow.

Jenny managed a grateful smile, though her heart wasn’t in it. Watching her brother with his wife, so obviously and hopelessly in love, struck something hollow in her chest.

Once, she’d thought she might have that too.

Fin. No—Lord Reid. The name tasted like ash in her mouth now.

To think she had allowed herself to love the man.

She’d believed he would be her husband, the father of their children, and everything in between.

But then, everything within her grasp had crumbled.

Fin had vanished before she could confront him.

In fact, he fled town when the news of his scandal broke: Lord Reid had sired a child with a barmaid.

The scandal sheets had confirmed what her heart had refused to believe…

that a rake had played her. Although ‘rake’ was too kind a description for the arse.

For a week, she hadn’t eaten. She had wept in silence, unable to confide in anyone.

Elias had threatened to make the man pay for merely breaking her heart.

And if her brother knew that she’d allowed him to touch her, well, he wouldn’t have stopped until the blackguard was dead.

And though she hated Fin—hated how her body still remembered the intensity of his touch—she couldn’t carry his death on her conscience.

Worse still, she dreamed of him. Hated herself for it. No matter how often she tried to chase that pleasure by herself, with her own hand, it never came close. He’d ruined her. Ruined her for touch, desire, or anyone else. Damn him.

She did her best to play her part and feign interest in the events because she couldn’t admit to her father, brother, and sisters that, for some unknown reason, she couldn’t move on from a man who didn’t deserve a second thought from her.

But she hated the very idea of the Season. Of marriage. Of trusting any man again.

She’d at least found solace in helping other women escape the horrible men in their lives.

Her work at a secret women’s shelter had shown her what men were capable of.

The shelter had been a project that was funded by her sister’s friends, and it created an opportunity for her to do something that mattered.

Every week, new women arrived. They were beaten, broken, and betrayed by the men they thought they could trust. Desperately hoping for a better life. Her time was better spent aiding the women there than dancing at frivolous balls.

“Might we retire for the evening, Brother?” she asked softly.

Elias narrowed his eyes. “Did something else happen?”

She shook her head. “No. I’m simply tired. That’s all.”

Not quite a lie. And they would leave at supper, anyway.

It would give her time to change and sneak off into the night to the shelter, as she’d done many times before.

To the place where she could do some real good.

And if her brother knew of her behavior, he’d never allow her to leave her chamber again.

“Very well,” Elias said. “Let us thank our hosts.”

Jenny glanced once more across the ballroom. Duncan had disappeared, but in his place were a dozen other men just like him.

And the ghost of one she couldn’t quite banish.

*

A few hours later, Jenny slipped through the rear garden gate to the shelter, skirts hiked and heart pounding. Sneaking out alone was an act of recklessness, but the townhouse Betsy had converted into the shelter lay on the edge of Mayfair. Jenny tucked a knife into her boot. Just in case.

If Elias ever discovered her secret, he’d suffer a fit of apoplexy. Which was precisely why she waited until the house was still and the staff asleep.

She tiptoed through the garden shadows and let herself into the shelter’s back corridor, heading straight for Betsy’s office.

The woman, only a few years older than herself, ran the entire operation.

She had specifically requested Jenny’s help tonight to transport a group of women and their children out of London.

Most of the husbands wouldn’t stop searching London for them, merely to reclaim what they believed they owned. So the women couldn’t remain there. Betsy had an estate up north where they would gain employment and start new lives.

Jenny had made the run before. It required a carriage with a trusted driver, a man with a pistol to keep watch just in case, and a woman to ensure the battered clients knew they wouldn’t be harmed.

They’d get them to a location just outside of Town and another team would take them the rest of the way.

“Jenny,” Betsy said, rising from behind her candle-lit desk. “You made it. I worried the ball might keep you.”

Jenny waved her off. “I wouldn’t have missed it. This is far more important than some silly ball.”

“Everyone’s nearly ready. The coach will pull into the alley shortly. Same plan as last time, and both the driver and guard are armed. You will escort the women.”

Jenny nodded, glancing toward the window. “Clear skies. Full moon. It should go smoothly.”

“God willing,” Betsy murmured, linking arms with her. “Come. Let me introduce your partner for tonight’s run. He’s rather charming. You might even know him.”

“Why would I—” Her voice faltered as a tall, all-too-familiar figure stepped into view.

You have got to be kidding me. No. No, no, no.

The Devil was surely mocking her.

“Jenny,” Betsy said brightly, oblivious to Jenny’s growing ire. “This is Lord Reid.”

“I’m aware,” Jenny said coldly, narrowing her eyes. “No brothel visits scheduled tonight? Or perhaps a child in need of his long-lost father?”

Betsy blinked, glancing between them.

“Lady Jenny,” Fin replied disdainfully. “I see you tore yourself away from your gossip sheets. However shall you form your opinions of one’s character without them?”

“They’re quite helpful!” she snapped. “They warn women about men like you.”

And still—damn him—her body reacted. His presence made her entire body prick with awareness, even with a scowl marring his handsome face.

The sharp cut of his jaw carved dangerous shadows, only reminding her of how devastatingly irresistible he’d once been.

Still was. His thick, chestnut hair was hidden beneath his hat, but her fingers yearned to rip it off, tangle in his curls, and drag his soft lips to meet hers.

Betsy cleared her throat. “Is this going to be a problem? You are set to leave in a few moments.”

“No,” they clipped in unison.

Jenny wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of backing down. Besides, the mission was far more important.

She’d endure him for the sake of the women. But once they returned, she prayed never to set eyes upon the bastard again.