Page 46 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)
The ball was well underway when Daisy finally caught sight of Justin and Harry arriving together. And then her breath caught as Lucien stepped out from behind them.
The buzz of conversation rose another notch as the other guests registered his presence, and Daisy fought to keep her expression neutral as several faces turned her way to gauge her reaction.
She’d already deflected a couple of extremely pointed questions from both ladies and gentlemen, the less-subtle of whom had asked her outright whether the Duke of Cranford would be attending.
She’d merely replied that he’d accepted his invitation, and had declined to comment further. This, of course, had only increased the whispers of those convinced she had something to hide.
Lucien was dressed impeccably in almost the same outfit he’d been wearing the night they’d met on the road.
A black satin evening jacket molded faithfully to his impressive shoulders.
Black breeches and his signature black gloves added to the imposing figure he cut, the darkness only alleviated by the white of his shirt and cravat.
Daisy watched him scan the room, his height easily allowing him to see over the crowd from his position on the ballroom step, and she stilled as his piercing eyes found her.
Her heart gave a jolt of recognition, and she had the bizarre thought that he would be able to find her anywhere, in a crowd of a hundred thousand.
His presence made the whole world that much sharper, more exciting.
He ignored the people who crowded around him clamoring for an introduction and made a beeline toward her, his determination obvious as Justin and Harry fell into step on either side of him.
A group of ladies nearby giggled and whispered behind their fans as they noticed the direction of his purposeful strides, and several of them sighed in admiration at the striking trio.
Justin and Harry both sent lazy smiles to their wives, but Lucien’s expression remained stern.
He never took his eyes off her, and Daisy was struck with a sudden spike of terror that he was about to do something absolutely uncivilized, like simply pull her into his arms and kiss her, right there in front of everyone.
The dark glimmer in his eyes suggested he might well be considering it, and while intellectually she absolutely detested the thought of a man stamping his possession on her in such a primitive display—really, it was only one step removed from a dog relieving itself on a lamppost to mark its territory—a small part of her still fluttered at the thrilling possessiveness of it.
“Brace yourself,” Tess whispered wickedly from Daisy’s right.
The three men stopped in front of them and bowed in unison. Justin took Tess’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.
“Good evening, my love. You look ravishing, as ever.”
“Thank you,” Tess murmured.
Harry stepped to Ellie’s side and gave her waist a fond squeeze. “Hello, trouble. What shall we steal tonight?”
Ellie tapped him fondly on the knuckles with her fan. “Nothing, except a kiss.”
He obliged with a kiss to her cheek.
Daisy barely heard their byplay. Lucien’s broad chest had blocked out much of the room and the heady fragrance of the roses in the garland behind her mingled with his night-forest scent and made her heart pound. Blood rushed to her cheeks as he extended his black-gloved hand toward her.
“Miss Hamilton. Will you do me the honor of accepting my hand—”
A woman just to the left, clearly eavesdropping, gasped, and Lucien’s lips twisted up in dark amusement.
“—for this dance,” he finished drily, and Daisy quashed the urge to punch the wicked look from his face.
Oh, he was loving this.
She placed her fingers in his.
They matched. Her hands were encased in evening gloves that extended past her elbows, in an inky blue satin so dark they were almost as black as his own.
She sent him a serene smile. “I’d be delighted, Your Grace.”
Every eye in the room followed them as they took their positions on the dance floor amongst the other couples, but Daisy’s attention was focused on Lucien’s hand as it settled at the small of her back, an inch lower than propriety demanded.
She placed her left hand on his broad shoulder, and when he raised their joined right hands in readiness for the waltz, she looked up into his handsome face.
“I must admit, A Midsummer Night’s Dream is the perfect theme for tonight,” he said lazily. “Isn’t it the one with all the young lovers running around the woods and making themselves ridiculous?”
Daisy bit back a smile. “It is.”
“I’m amazed Perry isn’t dressed as Bottom, the donkey.”
“Oh, hush! He’s your own nephew. You shouldn’t go around calling him an ass.”
He shrugged, and the muscles of his shoulder twitched under her palm. “If the shoe fits.”
Violet and Perry were just to their left, also waiting for the music to start.
Violet, in a gown of pale peach that would have made Daisy look as if she had jaundice, was the Fairy Queen Titania, complete with a glimmering tiara and tiny net fairy wings emerging from the back of her dress.
Perry was equally handsome in a pale blue suit in the style of a French musketeer.
They were gazing at each other, so clearly besotted and impervious to the rest of the world, that it made Daisy’s heart clench.
Had she ever been so starry-eyed? So naively sure that life was a fairy tale?
She didn’t think so.
But she curved her lips up to answer Lucien. “It’s easy to be cynical, but I think they’re sweet. I hope they’ll come to appreciate each other fully, when the first rush of infatuation fades.”
“You are a romantic.”
Heat scorched her cheeks at his gently mocking tone and she glanced away, unable to deny it or think of a clever response. Thankfully, the orchestra started playing the first bars of a waltz.
“Everyone’s watching us,” she muttered as they started to move.
“Of course they are. We make a striking couple.”
Such typical arrogance made her look up at him again, and the twinkle in his eye bolstered her fighting spirit.
“That’s not why. They’re all waiting for a formal announcement. Half of them think we’re secretly engaged, the other half think we’ve already married at Gretna, and all of them think I’ve succumbed to your wicked charms.”
“They’re all wrong,” he said, amused. “It was me who succumbed to your wicked charms. You’ve compromised me shamelessly.”
Daisy snorted. “My father wants us to marry as soon as possible.”
“He does indeed.”
“And he wants us to announce our engagement here, tonight.” Her mouth was dry.
“Your father’s wishes don’t interest me in the slightest. What would you like to do? It’s still your decision.”
“How is it my decision if you’ve already requested a special license?” she hissed, careful to keep her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “My father said that’s what you were doing.”
His expression betrayed no hint of remorse at her accusing tone. “A special license just allows the couple listed on it to marry somewhere private, without the need for banns to be read. Having it doesn’t mean you have to marry me. There’s no obligation to use it. You can still say no.”
Daisy narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?”
“Really. I can throw it on the fire, if you like, and to hell with the thirty pounds it cost me.”
Daisy winced. Thirty pounds was more than most ordinary people earned in a year.
His lips curved in a smile at her obvious conflict. “The fact that you’re even debating this makes me question your sanity. Stop looking so cross. Anyone would think you don’t want to marry me.”
Oh, the arrogance of the man!
“I don’t want to marry you, you dolt. I want to be married to someone who actually likes me. Someone who cares for my opinion. Respects me. Values me.”
Loves me.
She didn’t say that out loud.
His brows rose. “When have I ever given the impression that I don’t value you? Or respect you? Or like you?”
She opened her mouth to give an example, but struggled to think of one. Despite being the most aggravating companion, he’d never made her feel as though he didn’t give weight to her thoughts, or considered her a lesser being.
“Perhaps you gleaned my dis like of you from the way I refused point-blank to make love with you?” he said drily. “The way I could barely stand to be in the same room as you. The way my cock didn’t even twitch in your vicinity.”
The heat in his eyes brought a flustered blush to her skin.
“Liking someone isn’t the same as desiring them physically,” she murmured. “You said it yourself. You don’t need to be friends to… fornicate.”
His lips quirked at her sudden modesty. “True. But don’t you think we might be friends now, after all our adventures?”
“We’re more like accomplices. Partners in crime. Besides, I don’t see why you’re so keen to marry me either.”
“I would have thought it’s obvious. Entertainment. If I marry you, I get someone to aggravate and torment on a daily basis.”
His teasing was ridiculous. “You have your family for that. And Finch. And all your servants.”
“It’s not the same. You’re far more amusing.”
He guided them into a sweeping turn that made her pulse race, then glanced back down at her, his eyes glowing with devilry.
“You seem to be under the false impression that I’m harboring a crushing sense of guilt.
I’m not. I’m not noble. I’m selfish and lazy, which is precisely why I told Perry to elope: to make my life easier.
Marrying you will mean I won’t have to go to all the bother of seducing other women or keeping a mistress.
I’ll save a fortune in jewels and furs. Not to mention the relief of not having to worry about contracting the pox. ”
“And you call me romantic,” Daisy drawled. “I wonder if this is how Perry convinced Violet to run off with him? With such flowery words.”
He grinned at her sarcasm. “The day I model my behavior on Peregrine is the day I take one of my Mantons and shoot myself in the head.”
“ I could be expensive,” she threatened. “If I put my mind to it, I bet I could make a serious dent in your fortune.”
“You’re welcome to try, but for the record, I have an obscene amount of money. And the beauty of compound interest means that it just keeps on multiplying. I bet I’ve made enough to buy you a whole new outfit, and a diamond choker, just while we’ve been having this conversation.”
Daisy rolled her eyes. Really, just because he was rich didn’t mean she should cave on her principles.
Even if a tiny voice in the back of her head told her to think of all the good she could do with his fortune at her disposal.
She could set up all kinds of charities to help women in need, the ones who couldn’t afford to pay King & Co. to take care of their problems.
“If you’re worried that I’ll forbid you to work for King and Company, let me put your mind at rest,” he said. “I have no objection to it, provided you take reasonable precautions to keep yourself safe.”
Daisy raised her brows. “Becoming your duchess will make me a more visible target. Just look what happened at Gretna.”
“ Not becoming my duchess will severely limit your ability to continue doing your job. If you’re excluded from the ton’s drawing rooms, you’ll have to concentrate on the lower levels of society, which are generally in the more dangerous parts of town. You’ll definitely be safer as my wife.”
There was undeniable logic to that. Damn him.
The waltz ended in a triumphant chord and they swirled to a stop. He looked down at her, his expression inscrutable.
“So, what’s it to be? Shall I start telling people we’re engaged?”
What choice did she have? Marrying Vaughan was the only logical option, but every rebellious, self-protective part of her protested at having to agree when it was such a one-sided emotional commitment.
What was wrong with her? She was going to be his duchess, the envy of every woman in the ton.
She should be glad she’d been given this chance, grateful that she wouldn’t be ruined.
But it felt like a hollow victory. He didn’t really want to marry her.
And making him fall in love with her suddenly felt like a gargantuan task, a feat far beyond her ability.
They were still standing in the middle of the dance floor, being watched by a hundred pairs of eyes. A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down.
“Yes. Do it. Tell them we’re engaged.”
Something like triumph flared in his eyes, and he sent her that dazzling, arrogant smile she knew so well. “Would you like me to do it the boring way, or the scandalous way?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the boring way is to just mention it to someone like our host, with plenty of people within earshot, and the news will be around the room in less than five minutes.”
“And the scandalous way?”
His eyes darkened. “I kiss you right here in front of everyone, and let them draw their own conclusions.”
Daisy’s gaze dropped to his lips, and for a terrible moment she actually considered it. But if he kissed her here it would be a sham, a calculated performance, and she didn’t want that. If he was going to kiss her, she wanted it to be just for her. Because he wanted to.
He raised his brows in silent challenge, daring her to be outrageous, but she shook her head and for once in her life took the sensible path. “Just tell Lord Mansfield. Word will get around.”
If he was disappointed at her choice he didn’t show it. He nodded and turned to escort her from the dance floor, but a flurry of excitement by the main doors made them both look up.
Daisy caught a glimpse of Lord Mansfield’s shocked expression, and Mr. Brand’s cheeks pink with delight, a moment before a footman intoned, “Her Majesty, Queen Charlotte.”