Page 16 of Promised to the Worst Duke in England (Disreputable Dukes of Club Damnation #2)

June 30, 1815

Midsummer ball

Imogen’s nerves alternately crawled and jumped beneath her skin, for she was anxious about hosting her first ball, or rather her first society event ever.

If she were honest, it was the first society event she’d attended, if she didn’t count the ones her grandmother had let her sneak off to during her banishment to the Derbyshire property.

Wishing she had a friend or acquaintance with her, she settled for her maid. “Do you think the gown is luxurious enough, Agnes?”

The modiste from the village was a wonderful woman, but when she’d been overwhelmed with the sheer number of gowns she needed to fashion for this event, Imogen had been forced to make different plans, and that had taken her to the traveler’s fair at the farthest northern boundary of Alan’s property.

“Oh, Your Grace, the gown is a vision, as are you in it.” Appreciation shown in the young maid’s eyes as she met Imogen’s gaze in the vanity mirror. “Once I finish with your hair, you’ll be a goddess.”

“Thank you.” The gown truly was a vision as the maid said, and the Roma seamstress clearly was a genius with a needle.

The garment itself was made from a petal pink satin but had an overskirt of moss green silk that resembled leaves shrouding a rose bud, which was what the gown had been made to represent. Tulip panels comprised the skirt while the bodice featured a scalloped edging and capped sleeves that fluttered with each movement. Tiny clear glass beads had been sewn all over the skirting and around the waist, so she sparkled with every breath. Agnes had arranged Imogen’s hair into an elaborate updo with curls secured with pearl encrusted pins, and she’d expertly woven strands of pearls as well as matching ribbons through the tresses.

“Will you wear the ruby and diamond set tonight that matches your wedding ring?”

She glanced at the bauble in question. The stones winked in the rays of the setting sun. “No. Instead I’ll wear the peridots. They are my birthstone, after all.” It was a beautiful set, and one Alan had offered to her last night following dinner so she would glitter at tonight’s event.

“You will be stunning. All eyes will be on you tonight.” Agnes patted a strand of hair into the coif then announced it finished. “If you don’t mind me saying, Your Grace, you are so inspiring. Snagged a duke, now a duchess with beautiful clothes, not a care in the world.”

That statement was almost laughable. Imogen bit her bottom lip so she didn’t laugh lest the maid think her making jest. “I don’t know about that, but thank you. I’m so nervous. What if his friends don’t think I’m a fitting duchess?”

Agnes shot her a cheeky grin. “You are a duchess, so their opinions don’t matter.”

That made her chuckle. “I suppose you’re right.” Slowly, she stood up from the padded chair in front of the vanity and shook out her skirts while her maid went into the adjoining dressing room. It didn’t help with her nerves, though. What if her own husband thought her lacking in this position?

When Agnes returned, she held a shallow rectangular box. “Come. I’ll help you with your jewelry.”

The clearing of a masculine voice at the doorway interrupted their conversation. “I shall do that task for her. Thank you, Agnes. You can go,” Alan said with an expression of amused scrutiny on his face.

“Of course, Your Grace.” The maid gave an awkward curtsey before handing him the box and then scurrying from the room.

“Averly,” Imogen said, and there was a touch of breathlessness to her voice. “I… I didn’t expect you here tonight; I thought to meet you downstairs.” They had passed a rather intense twenty-four hour period together, but there had been much accomplished, and knowing he’d finally shared some of his history with her left her humbled as well as a bit proud, for she knew how exhausting letting emotions run rampant could be.

“Nonsense. I shall escort you to the ballroom and we’ll enter together to receive everyone—our first public appearance as a couple.” The odd thing was he didn’t sound annoyed about that fact.

And he looked so delicious tonight dressed in his dark evening clothes complete with tailcoat. The last time she’d seen him thusly was on their wedding day. His hair had been arranged in a popular style, and there was a tiny twinkle in his eyes that she couldn’t quite puzzle out. As she drifted closer to him, his fresh, wintery scent teased her nose, and she sighed.

“I appreciate that. My nerves feel strung too tight.”

“Hush, duchess. All will be well, but I understand. I’m feeling much the same yet for different reasons, I’ll wager.”

Imogen frowned. “Are you feeling well enough after what happened yesterday?”

“I believe so.” As he nodded, he peered at her. “Oddly enough, I feel… lighter.”

“That is the power of talking about the demons we struggle with. Will they go away overnight? No, of course not, but releasing those emotions eases the burden a bit.”

“So I am beginning to see. Thanks to you.”

She waved away his praise. “You have done the same for me.”

“Mmm.” He removed the peridot necklace set in silver from the box then laid said receptacle on the bed. “And might I say you are stunning tonight. Wherever you procured that gown from, you should engage that seamstress again.” Moving behind her, he quickly put the necklace about her neck and did the clasp. When his fingers lingered at her nape and shoulders, she shivered.

“Such gammon, Averly.” Yet his effusive compliment inordinately pleased her. “These jewels are stunning.” She touched a fingertip to one of the oval cabochons. “I’ve always had an affinity for these gems.”

“They match your ensemble perfectly.” The heat of his breath skated over her skin. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you came out of the forest to bewitch someone.”

She giggled. When was the last time she’d made that noise? “Perhaps you.”

“That could be arranged.” As he turned her about once more, this time to face her, he slid his palms from her shoulders down to her hands and held them. “Thank you for the effort you’ve put into making tonight’s ball a success. I’ve had a peek into your decorating, and the room has been fully transformed. I’m in awe of your talents.”

“You are welcome. I had a lovely time with the planning. And I hope I make you proud.”

“I rather think you already have.” When he tugged her into his arms and claimed her mouth, a shiver of need went down her spine.

Pulling away, she scrabbled on the vanity for her gloves. “You are quite charming, Averly. Beware or you’ll make all the ladies swoon tonight.”

“Including you?” He plucked the matching bracelet from the jewelry box.

“I don’t know that I’ve ever been affected that much by a man, but hope springs eternal.” She quickly pulled on the gloves then offered her right hand to him.

“Well, my dear, I am not like most men,” he said with a grin as he fastened the bracelet around her wrist. “And thank you for ensuring this ball won’t be the debauched affair I’ve twisted it into over the years.”

“You are welcome.” In his presence, she was becoming all too addlepated. “I want everyone in the ton to think of this event as one they wish to attend years from now, regardless of where you hold it.” She laid a palm on his chest, patting him. “For what it’s worth, holding it here in Kent allows you to reach other people you can’t in London, and I rather like the idea of the traveler’s fair afterward. I’m hoping to attend.”

“I would be honored to escort you there as well.”

She peered into his eyes, but they were as clear and as green as forest moss. “Have you imbibed this evening?” Surely the way he was acting meant he was a few sheets to the wind.

“Not a drop, though I have had more than a few cups of coffee.”

“Oh.” The knowledge that he was actively working at not drinking himself into a stupor each night warmed her heart. “I’m glad to hear that, but if you wish to toast the night with me by indulging in a glass of champagne, I wouldn’t think that a problem.”

A slow grin curved his lips. “I absolutely will do that.” Then he offered her his arm, crooked at the elbow. “We’d best go downstairs to the ballroom before the bulk of our guests arrive. What sort of couple would we be if we weren’t there to receive them?”

“What indeed.” She slipped her fingers onto his sleeve, and as he led her through the corridors and the stairs, an odd feeling of excitement coursed through her veins. This was certainly a large change from what she felt upon first arriving to Averly Hall a week ago.

Good heavens, has it only been a week?

There was no more time to ponder the situation and the changes therein, for they arrived in the corridor just outside the ballroom where her husband—it was the first time she’d called him that in her own mind—decided to hold court, and moments later, a line of guests assembled.

It was a whirlwind of greeting and being made to smile, whether she wanted to or not, as person after person passed them, shaking hands or bussing her cheek. Salutations and congratulations were offered from both the gentry and members of the ton who’d come out to Kent in order to attend the ball.

Then, a soft chuckle from the duke drifted to her ears. “I’ll be damned.”

“What?” she asked with a frown.

Then a trio of men dressed in the requisite evening attire stood before them. One of the men had black hair, two were blond. The man with black hair had a closely-cropped beard and mustache while one of the blonds had horrible scarring on the left side of his face and he walked with the aid of a cane that had an ornately carved ivory head. The other blond man was perhaps several years older than her husband with silver strands mixing with his golden hair.

With a grin, Alan turned toward her. “Lady Averly, let me introduce you to some of my friends and fellow clubmates, the dukes of Udolpho, Blackhawke, and Eggleton. They have been my closest friends in years past, and sometimes the only people keeping me sane.”

“It is lovely to meet all of you.” She was very much the center of attention amidst the three men. For the next few seconds, she received their greetings, and when the Duke of Eggleton kissed her hand, Alan stiffened beside her. As if she would suddenly leave him for the other man. “I’m glad Averly has men at his side to keep him from doing something stupid.”

That met with good-natured laughter from the trio.

The Duke of Eggleton smiled. “We certainly try, but it seems that every man within Club Damnation is quite stubborn and very much opposed to anything that will make him better. “I saw him last on your wedding day, and there is a small change within him that intrigues me. That must be attributed to you.”

Heat went through her cheeks. “I don’t know about that.”

The other two men chuckled. Then the Duke of Blackhawke offered a grin that pulled weirdly at the left side of his mouth. “Most days he’s naught but a bounder and he’ll drink anyone beneath a table, but tonight, I agree with Eggleton. His eyes are clear, and he seems… different somehow.”

Before she or Alan could respond, a pretty blonde woman joined them and settled at Eggleton’s side. “Do stop teasing Averly. That isn’t well done of you, Eggleton.” She smiled at Imogen. “I am Eggleton’s wife. It is lovely to meet you. I hope you have many happy years ahead with your husband.”

“Thank you.” When she glanced at Alan, she was taken aback to find him regarding her with pride in his eyes. An odd little tremble went through her heart. Then she focused on the duchess again. “It is lovely that you’ve come to the ball and hope we will have time later for a bit of a chat.”

“I will make certain we do, for there is no doubt much for us to gossip about.” Amusement and curiosity warred for dominance in her expression. “Enjoy the evening, Lady Averly.” With a wave, she led her husband into the ballroom.

Imogen focused on the other two dukes. “Thank you for coming out as well. Behave yourselves tonight.” Was that too cheeky to say to a duke let alone two?

Udolpho waggled his eyebrows. “Where is the fun in behaving? But I wouldn’t mind if you were to save a dance for me.”

At her side, Alan uttered a low growl of warning. Surely, he wasn’t jealous? “Move along, Udolpho. You can only dance with my wife if I will it.”

“Ah.” With a grin that had much cheek in it, both dukes went into the ballroom, which let her and Alan greet more guests.

Then her husband chuckled again. “Aunt Dorcas, how wonderful to see you tonight.”

The older woman, dressed in a lovely silver gown that sparkled with tiny spangles, rapped Alan’s hand with her folded fan. “Don’t give me such gammon, my boy. We both know you don’t want me here, but I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He frowned. “How did you even know of this event?”

“Lady Averly invited me.” Then the lady slid a glance to Imogen. “Thank you, deary. I appreciate that you remembered me.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Well, since my husband told me exactly nothing about you, I had to rely on the butler when assembling the guest list, but I’m thrilled you are here.” When she extended a hand, the older lady clasped it.

“So am I. Never did I think my nephew would host a ball let alone one that was respectable, but here we are, and I’ll wager you had a large part in that.” She grinned then bounced her gaze between them. “I am his Aunt Dorcas, sister to his father, God rest his soul, and I’m about the only one left who thinks he’s not as horrible as he assumes.”

“I am one of those people as well.” When she glanced at Alan again, an odd expression crossed his face, gone with his next blink. “His soul might be battered, but it still shines, but then, he has shown me the same. It is good not to feel so alone.”

His aunt squeezed Imogen’s fingers before releasing her hand. “I knew this union would benefit you both. Welcome to the family, my girl. I look forward to coming to know you better.” She winked. “Save a few moments for me later tonight, my dear, for there is much I would say to you.”

Alan snorted. “Gossip, you mean.”

“And what if it is? Mind your own business, my boy.” The older lady bestowed a fond smile upon him. “I shall be glad to write to your mother and tell her that you are well on your way of sorting yourself.”

He nodded, and while Imogen had no idea what they referred to, she inherently trusted this woman. Her welcome had made her feel more loved than years with her own parents. “Thank you, Aunt Dorcas. I’ll be certain to ask you for a dance at some point tonight, since I know you like to have all eyes upon you.”

“Do hush.” But she grinned. “I shall count upon it. Don’t linger out here too long, for you both need to open your ball so the rest of us can enjoy it.” Then, with a wave at Imogen, the older lady moved into the ballroom.

For the next quarter of an hour, Imogen and the duke met and greeted guests before they also went into the ballroom that already contained quite the crush.

“Oh, it’s so lovely,” she said with a smile. “I hadn’t seen it completely decorated, but this is amazing.”

Everywhere she turned, greenery and floral blooms as well as the delicate pink and green tulle met her gaze. The scent of the flowers filled the air, and with all three sets of the double doors thrown open at the rear of the room, the guests could utilize the terrace beyond but the fresh air, born from the gentle summer breeze, helped in diffusing the heat of so many bodies in the room. The large crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the frescoed ceiling sent glimmers of candlelight scattered over the parquet flooring.

“This is exactly like a scene from a fairy story.” He patted her hand that lingered on his sleeve. “You are quite talented with such work, but come. There is something I wish to show you.”

“Oh?” Truly, she had no idea to what he referred.

“Yes.” Slowly, he made his way toward a dormant fireplace, which would provide cheerful warmth if he ever wanted to hold balls in the wintertime. “There.” With his chin, he indicated the wall above the mantel. “I found this in the music room turned artist studio and figured it was either curing or you’d forgotten about it, but I adored the countryside painting and wanted to share this other talent of yours with our world.”

As she gazed at her watercolor painting resting in a gilt frame in its place of prominence on the wall between two tall vases of flowers on the mantel, she lost another piece of her heart to him. “I had no idea you thought me talented.”

“Oh, but I do.” When his gaze met hers, there was something deep in those depths she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—identify but it gave her so much hope that her heartbeat skipped a beat. “There is much to admire about you, Imogen. I hope eventually you will come to realize that as well.”

Merciful heavens.

There was every possibility she might melt into a puddle at his feet. “I appreciate those words, more than you know.” If she wasn’t careful, she’d become a watering pot before the ball even began. “Changing the way one thinks about oneself is a slow, oftentimes painful, process.”

“How well I understand this.” Another searing look was bestowed upon her before he gave his head a bit of a shake. “Let me speak with the string quartet then we will open the ball with a waltz.” Then he winked, and she gawked at him. “I hope you know how to dance, duchess. Perhaps I should have inquired before now.”

Oh, dear. Would she remember those lessons given when she was a young woman? For her sake and his, she hoped so. But she swallowed. “Time will tell, I suppose.”

He nodded. “I won’t let you fall.” Did he refer to the dancing or to life in general?

Did it matter? As he left her at the side of the room to seek out the musicians, she stifled a sigh. Was this bubbly, bouncy sensation in her chest what it felt like to fall in love? She didn’t know that either, but it was both shocking and exciting all at once.