Page 23 of The Duke of Cups (The Highwaymen #3)

“HYACINTH!” MARIAN WAS truly surprised to see her.

Marian didn’t know about Hyacinth and Dunrose, so Hyacinth assured herself that her friend certainly hadn’t acquiesced to the dance with any intention to hurt her.

Of course, Dunrose, he was a rake, and he was well-known for his affairs with other men’s husbands, and Marian was fair game.

Hyacinth tried to smile, even as she was wondering what was going on between them. “So good to see you both, of course. Lovely weather we’re having here at the very end of the Season.”

“Oh, you’re back, Comtesse de Champeraigne,” said Dunrose. “I heard he had brought you to London. I was wondering when you’d show your face in town. Where is your husband?”

“He’s busy,” she said. “He often is.”

“You’re just being the dutiful little wife and doing his bidding, are you?” said Dunrose.

“I…” Hyacinth looked away.

“What else is a wife to do?” said Marian, looking him over.

“Let me go and get us some drinks, love,” said Dunrose to Marian, giving her his wicked smile, the one that he’d given Hyacinth when they were naked together.

Hyacinth sucked in breath, trying to distract herself from how bad that felt, how positively horrid.

He is not mine, he is not mine, he is not mine, she chanted internally.

Dunrose disappeared in search of drinks.

Marian furrowed her brow. “I didn’t know you were back in London. I didn’t even know you were getting married. You didn’t tell me anything.”

Hyacinth could hear that her friend was hurt. “I’m sorry, Marian. It happened all very quickly.”

“Did he trick you into it?” said Marian.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s only they say things about him, the comte, that’s all, and whenever I’ve met him, he always…” Marian winced. “Well, I don’t mean to insult your husband, of course.”

“It wasn’t a trick,” said Hyacinth. “But he is that sort of man, you’re right. If I’d felt as if I had better choices—”

“Oh, if a duke had offered for you, you mean?” came Dunrose’s voice. He had three drinks in his hands and he offered one to Marian.

She took it.

Hyacinth expected him to give her one of the glasses of wine.

Instead, Dunrose downed one and then the other. “How many of your dances have I claimed, countess?”

“Erm, that was the second one,” said Marian. “You can’t claim another, of course. Three dances in a row would be, erm, ridiculous. And I’m a married woman.”

People were supposed to politely spread about their favor to everyone at a ball, not to focus their attention on one other person. If two people were courting, sometimes it was excused, but otherwise, it was a dreadfully rude thing to do, dancing with the same person over and over.

A married woman dancing three dances with a man not her husband? Well, that was a scandal.

“Yes,” said Dunrose. “But if I ask you to dance with me, it would be frightfully impolite if you denied me.”

“It would be frightfully impolite for you to ask!” rejoined Marian. “No, I shan’t. Really, Daniel. ”

Daniel? Hyacinth clenched her hands into fists.

“Well, then, Hyacinth?” said Dunrose.

Hyacinth blinked at him. “I don’t remember giving you leave to call me by my first name, actually.”

“Oh, yes, pardon me, madame le comtesse , may I have the honor of a dance?” he said. “It would be frightfully impolite for you to refuse.”

She glared at him. Yes, if she said no, the only thing she could possible claim as a polite reason for it was that she was not dancing at all, perhaps due to a malady. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he said. “I need another drink.” He sauntered off, his entire body in that haughty, lazy posture he tended towards.

Hyacinth was going to burst into tears. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was being awful, or because she was jealous of Marian, or because she had never really reacted properly to the fact she’d married Champeraigne, of all people.

“I’m not having a love affair with him, I promise,” said Marian. “I think he wants me to, and he pursues me all over, but—”

“It’s because of me,” said Hyacinth, feeling relieved.

“Is it.” Marian regarded her. “What did you do? Did he really offer for you?”

“He wasn’t serious,” said Hyacinth.

“If he’s trying to get me to be unfaithful to my husband with him simply for the purpose of hurting you, Hyacinth, then I think maybe he was.”

Hyacinth bit down on her bottom lip. “No, he’s never serious, Marian. If he’s been accosting you and you’ve been forced into his company, certainly you’ve seen that.”

Marian looked away. “He’s so very complimentary, isn’t he? He could make you think he actually admired you, but then he simply disappears. He is just playing a game, and I know it. I know men like that.”

“Yes,” said Hyacinth. “Yes.” Tears pricked her eyes.

“Oh, my dear Hyacinth, I’m so sorry!” said Marian, patting her arm. “We shall speak of something else, anything else! I shan’t be the source of your discomfort!”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was in London,” said Hyacinth. “I’m ever so sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you of my marriage. It wasn’t about you, Marian, do you believe me?”

Marian nodded, giving her a small smile.

“Oh, dear, I have to dance with him, don’t I?”

“You have to dance with him,” said Marian, “but you don’t have to speak to him.”

Hyacinth laughed.

Marian let out a hesitant giggle as well. “I’m so sorry. I know you wished for a better match. Is he… is it…?”

“It’s fine,” said Hyacinth. “My marriage is fine.”

Marian looked away. “Of course it is.”

“YOU DON’T SEEM very steady on your feet, Your Grace,” said Hyacinth pointedly as he claimed her for their dance.

Dunrose was drunk, and he knew he was drunk.

He was even embarrassed of it, ashamed of it, but there was little to be done about it now.

She was the reason for his drinking as of late, so if he hadn’t been drunk, he wouldn’t have had the courage to speak to her.

He staggered a little as he made his way into his side of the line of the dance. “I’m plenty steady.”

She scoffed.

“Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” he said as they began the dance.

“Quite,” she muttered and then fell silent.

He moved around her, failing to properly execute the intricate bit of movement they were meant to do by clasping each other’s hands. Now, they were each on the other side than they’d began, women having switched sides with men. “Are there any exploits you enjoy in the summer, my lady?”

She recognized the fact he was referencing that conversation they’d had in Bess’s, the one that occurred just before he’d tricked her into bed. She didn’t like it. “Perhaps we should dance in silence, Your Grace.”

He smirked.

She glared.

He attempted to start a conversation more than once after that, but she was silent.

They finished the dance, and he tried to ask her to dance with him again, but she interrupted to say that she must excuse herself and went off to disappear into the crowd.

He followed her.

She was with the Countess of Billingsworth. The two women had their heads together, talking quite seriously. The countess looked up and saw him watching them and said something to Hyacinth, who looked up and saw him, too.

She straightened, smoothing out her skirts, lifting her chin, and she stalked over towards him.

“Don’t you have anything else better to do with yourself, Your Grace? Neither of us old married ladies are inclined to let you under our skirts.”

He smirked again. “No? Well, there are two ways this may have gone, my lady. One is that you were lying to me, and he’s already had you, in which case, it must have been singularly awful, I should think.

Or, more likely, he really did keep his hands to himself because he wanted to placate the marchioness.

In which case, the only person who’s ever lifted your skirts is me. ”

Her nostrils flared.

“And if he isn’t inclined to do it, then you’re a very lonely wife, aren’t you? Bored, even.” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on a carriage ride with me.”

Wait. What? What was he doing?

I don’t wish to tup her again!

He was a right mess because of this woman.

The things she’d said to him in the gardens outside the estate where Fatueux was renting had cut him to the quick, really.

He’d been too open with her, told her things he never should have told her, and she’d said things to hurt him.

He hadn’t given a woman that kind of ammunition, not in a long time.

He didn’t know what had made him lower his guard with her.

Well, truly, he hadn’t thought he had lowered his guard. It was just that she saw him too clearly, even as he thought he was being clever and disguising himself.

The truth was, though, she wouldn’t have bothered hurting him like that if she hadn’t been hurt, too.

So, that was something, he supposed. He mattered to her, at least enough to make her wish to hurt him. And she, as much as he hated to admit it, mattered to him.

“No,” she said.

“What else are you doing?” He waved around at the gathering.

“Well, I can’t leave Marian,” she said.

“Marian has been all alone the entire time you were wherever you were with your new husband,” he said. “She’ll be all right.”

“I shouldn’t,” she said.

“Do it anyway,” he said. He reached up to touch her face. “I think you wish to, don’t you?”

She pushed his hand away. “You’re not good for me.”

“I know,” he said. “But you want me anyway. Admit it to yourself.”

She walked away without another word.

He scolded himself. Shouldn’t have been so cocky. Shouldn’t have pretended as if he knew her mind better than she knew it herself.

He was done with the entire ball, suddenly.

He had something in his jacket pocket, something he’d told himself not to touch, but he’d sort of known, all along, it was a matter of time until he did.