Page 33 of The Duke’s Indecent Scandal (Indecent Dukes #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

T iffany

Dancing the cotillon with the Earl of Brighton’s younger son, Tiffany tried not to pay attention to the way Lady Martin was simpering up at Gregory as he danced with her. She knew she could not dance every dance with her husband, so she accepted the younger Brighton when he asked, but she had not realized how it would make her feel to see her husband dancing with another woman.

A beautiful married woman who had already given her husband two children. Was she looking for a lover?

Tiffany ground her teeth as she moved through the steps, trying to pay attention to what she was doing and not what was happening across the floor. Trying to reassure herself that nothing of note was happening. He was dancing, that was all, just as she was.

She was somewhat reassured when the dance ended, and they returned to their respective circles; the two groups had been beside each other but not overlapping much before. As she was returned, she brightened when she saw Sebastian had joined the other dukes who had not taken to the dance floor.

“There you are.” He was just as happy to see her as she was to see him. Though she appreciated the days she’d been able to settle into Gregory’s house, she’d missed Sebastian. They exchanged greetings, and then Gregory came up beside her to greet Sebastian as well.

“Is Mother here?” she asked, steeling herself.

“Somewhere, about,” Sebastian said, waving his hand at the throng. “I lost sight of her almost as soon as she found Lady Tremaine, and the two of them swanned off with Lady Louisa in tow.”

Tiffany relaxed, only realizing how tense she’d become when it disappeared again. At some point, she would have to speak to her mother, but in the crush, she could hardly be blamed for not seeking her out.

A touch of a hand at her elbow had her turning. Gregory and Sebastian continued talking as she faced Lady Astrid, who was standing with a beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar.

“Tiffany, I have a friend I would like you to meet. This is the Baroness of Ashfield, Delilah Voight.”

“Your Grace.” The baroness curtsied, spreading out her saffron skirts with grace. It was the topaz necklace around her throat, matching jewels scattered through her rich brown hair, that jogged Tiffany’s memory. She’d seen the baroness at the modistes, though she had not known her at the time.

“Baroness.” Tiffany inclined her head but also smiled and reached out her hands. As far as she was concerned, Astrid was her knight in shining armor, and she was happy to meet anyone Astrid wanted to introduce her to. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you. Felicitations on your wedding.” The baroness had a pleasant, throaty voice. Unlike some of the ton , she actually sounded as though she meant it, without even a hint of jealousy.

“How is being married?” Astrid asked, fanning herself idly. She was wearing a coppery-colored dress trimmed with tangerine and matching Cairngorm jewelry again. Her gaze scanned the crowd as much as she was able. Though, she was a bit taller than Tiffany, so perhaps it was easier for her. “Is your husband behaving himself?”

Tiffany had to laugh.

“I suppose it depends on what you mean by behaving himself,” she said, turning her head to look at him. She caught herself before she frowned. Some bolder ladies had begun to insert themselves into her brother and husband’s group of dukes. They were not debutantes. One of them was openly laughing at something Gregory had just said, her hand on his arm, and he was smiling at her with charm.

The insides of her chest squeezed, but there was nothing she could do about it. Married couples did not live in each other’s pockets. Speaking to other women, charming them, even flirting with them, was just part of the social game. She understood that, she did.

But…

“May I suggest a glass of wine?” The baroness asked quietly, holding out her hand with her own glass, the red liquid shimmering in the light. Tiffany did not understand.

“I…” Was she supposed to drink it? Was the baroness offering to share? Somehow, that did not seem quite right. Her confusion must have shown.

“If you spill it on her, she’ll have to leave.” The baroness’ lips quirked with amusement, but there was something else in her expression. “I picked up the trick from Lady Spencer, much good it does me now.”

It was only then that Tiffany realized where else she’d heard the baroness’ name—paired with Sebastian and Gregory’s friend, the Duke of Grafton. They must have ended their… acquaintance. That was the something else Tiffany had seen—the hurt, the resignation from no longer needing to do anything to fend off the ladies.

Tiffany was not sure she could possibly be so bold. Gregory was not even doing anything wrong; neither was the lady.

“No, but thank you,” she said quietly.

“If you change your mind, just say the word,” the baroness said, pulling the wine glass back toward herself. The thin smile on her face was rather cynical. Tiffany’s heart hurt, both for herself and the baroness. But if Gregory was going to find another woman, another lover, spilling a drink on the woman was hardly going to stop him.

They were married now. The need to trick the ton into thinking they were a love match in order to preserve her reputation was over. That had been the deal. Through the wedding, not more.

Gregory

“I have heard you have an incredible collection of etchings, Your Grace,” Lady Chisolm purred, leaning in to brush her breasts against his arm.

At one point in his life, he would have been all too happy to toy with her, then take her to bed, but he found himself repulsed rather than intrigued. Resisting her was no hardship because there was nothing to resist—he was not in the least bit tempted.

Gregory knew better than to deflect her too harshly. She was the type to turn vicious when bluntly denied. Playing the fool, as though he did not understand what she was hinting at, took longer, but the results would be more definitive and with fewer repercussions for him or for Tiffany. He would not like it if she took out her feelings on his wife, then there would be a scene that would keep the ton talking for weeks.

So, he blinked at her and smiled without any hint of awareness of her breast touching his arm or which collection of etchings she was referring to.

“Oh, yes, some lovely countryside scenes,” he replied cheerfully. “I found them in Dorset. Lovely little set depicting different aspects of country life. They’re really quite calming to look at.”

He might have taken it a bit too far there. Lady Chisolm narrowed her eyes at him, as if she’d picked up on the fact that he was bamming her. Thankfully, before she could say anything else, there was a sudden commotion on the other side of the ballroom. Everyone in their vicinity turned at the explosion of noise—the shouts, the shrieks, and a strange chittering.

“What is going on?” Sebastian asked from Gregory’s side, drawn out of his own conversation with Nathanial. Nathanial had turned to look as well, frowning as he reached up to fiddle with the mauve pocket square, like he thought pulling it out might be helpful in some manner.

“Oh, it must be that awful monkey.” Lady Chisolm wrinkled her nose and huffed, clearly put out by no longer having anyone’s full attention.

“What monkey?” Three dukes chorused the question in unison, which made Gregory chuckle under his breath.

“Lady Hatchett’s new pet. It seems a vicious little thing, but she insisted on bringing it tonight to show it off.”

The noise was traveling through the ballroom, and Gregory caught a glimpse of a tiny blur of brown fur as it leaped from person to person. Shrieks and shouts followed in its wake.

“I’m going to kill that thing!” Lord Hatchett was clearly not as enamored with the monkey as his wife, following its path through the ballroom with a red face and a raised knife, which was causing even more alarm and shrieks. One woman fainted, hitting the floor before anyone could catch her because they were too distracted by the chaos.

The monkey seemed to know its life was in danger because it was fleeing from the man with all due haste. Out of the corner of his eye, Gregory saw Tiffany going forward, her gaze on Lord Hatchett as if she was going to intercept him.

Bloody hell.

He surged forward, catching her around the waist and pulling her back.

“We have to stop him!” Tiffany protested, pushing frantically at his hands.

“ I will stop him,” Gregory growled, turning to push her behind him firmly behind him, sending her brother a look. Grim faced, Sebastian took hold of his sister’s elbow, pulling her even farther away from Lord Hatchett’s path.

A path had spread open for the lord, no one wanting to stand against him, and Gregory stepped deliberately into that pathway. Far better than risking his wife doing the same, and he was certain she would have if he had not pulled her back.

Hatchett glared at him but pulled up short. He might be a petty tyrant and a blowhard, but he was also wedded to his status, which meant he instinctively reacted to Gregory’s.

“Clarence,” Hatchett growled. “Excuse me, but I need to move past you.”

“My apologies, but I cannot do that,” Gregory said, shaking his head. “You are already distressing the ladies, Hatchett. They are going to become much more so if you actually harm the creature.”

“It is mine. Therefore, I can do what I want with it. If it offends your sensibilities, I will take it outside before I chop off its filthy little head.” Hatchett’s voice boomed through the silent room as everyone watched the drama playing out in front of them, and Lady Hatchett let out a wail. Her husband did not even blink.

Even the monkey had fallen silent or perhaps escaped.

“Actually, Hatchett, I believe the monkey has chosen a new owner,” a drawling voice said behind Gregory. Recognizing Zachary’s sardonic tones, Gregory turned to look at his friend.

The monkey, which was barely bigger than a man’s hand, was perched on Zachary’s shoulder while Zachary stroked a finger down its back. Its tail was curled around Zachary’s head. It was a very cute creature, now that it was not causing havoc through the ballroom, with fluffy dark brown fur, huge eyes, and a thin gold collar around its neck. The yellow ribbon that hung down from the collar had obviously been chewed through, about a foot from the monkey’s neck, the tattered end standing out starkly against the black of Zachary’s coat.

“Thank you for the gift.” Zachary held Hatchett’s gaze as he stopped petting the monkey long enough to reach down and take a grape from his other hand, lifting it up to the little pet to take. The monkey grasped it with both paws and immediately started nibbling on the round fruit. “Does he have a name?”

Hatchett paused, practically vibrating in place as he realized that his prey had escaped his grasp. He sucked in a breath through his nose, visibly grabbing hold of himself. Perhaps finally realizing exactly what a scene he’d created.

With two dukes opposing him, one of them thanking him for a gift , he really only had one choice that would allow him to save face.

“Name it as you please,” he snapped out before giving them both a jerky bow. He was clearly seething but preferred his status and having a duke owe him a favor for his revenge on the little beast. “Excuse me.”

The entire room tensed as he turned about, knife still in hand, and then blew a collective sigh of relief as he dropped the weapon onto the tray a nearby footman was holding. The footman was so pale, he looked like a stiff wind might knock him down, but he managed to hold himself upright as Hatchett passed.

Hatchett’s wife, who Gregory had never met but seemed like an equal match to Hatchett’s choleric temper, was fanning herself and ignoring her husband, intent on basking in all the attention now being heaped upon her. Ladies had already thronged toward Zachary, but the monkey on his shoulder screeched at their approach, and they immediately fell back, tittering nervously.

Gregory grinned and shifted his position so he could offer his arm to Tiffany. Immediately, she shook her brother loose and came to meet him.

“Let’s go meet the monkey,” he said wryly, and she beamed up at him.

It did not escape his notice that Lady Astrid and Baroness Voight had joined Tiffany’s circle. The two were now speaking with Miss Little, the baroness’ back definitively turned to where Zachary was standing. Which was quite the feat, seeing as all other eyes in the ballroom were still on him.

He now had the same little clearing of space around him that the Littles originally had, though for a very different reason. However, Gregory was not going to be put off by some screeching. He wisely plucked a strawberry tart from a passing footman’s tray to offer to the monkey as they neared.

The monkey chittered, holding onto Zachary’s ear, then slowly reached out to take the tart from Gregory.

“I am not sure that will be good for him,” Zachary said with some amusement, still scratching the small creature on the back of its head.

“After his brush with death, he deserves a treat,” Gregory argued. “What are you going to call him?”

“I was thinking I’d call him Sinclair.” The other man’s expression turned sheepish, and he shrugged the shoulder that was monkeyless.

Gregory’s chest tightened and loosened and the reminder of their friend. In the whirl to find a bride and investigate the mystery of their fathers’ deaths, his grief over Sinclair had been fairly well shunted aside. Then again, he had not been as close to Sinclair as Zachary. If Sebastian had been the one lost at sea, Zachary and Gregory would have switched shoes.

He looked at the tiny monkey, and his lips twitched.

“He would hate that.”

“Which is what makes it perfect.” The edges of Zachary’s lips curved upward.

Tiffany shook her head.

“Do you think he would let me pet him?” she asked, peering up at the little creature. Apparently, she was going to ignore his and Zachary’s exchange rather than comment on it.

“You can try.” Zachary turned so his shoulder was tilted closer to Tiffany.

She slowly lifted her hand, but even that movement caused the monkey to eye her with suspicion, and it clambered up on top of Zachary’s head, where she had no way of reaching it. Chuckling, Zachary tried to pluck it off, but it shoved the remainder of the grape fully into its mouth and grabbed hold of his hair, refusing to let go.

“Apparently not.” She sighed, letting her hand drop, and the monkey released Zachary’s hair, returning to his shoulder. “Maybe I should have tried giving him a grape.”

“At least he allowed you to approach,” Gregory pointed out to console her.

They tried for a few more minutes without success. Sinclair, the monkey, wanted nothing to do with Tiffany, would tolerate Gregory petting him but refused to be coaxed into Gregory’s hand, and kept his little tail firmly wrapped around Zachary’s neck the whole time.

As the music started up the strains of a waltz, Gregory decided it was time to abandon the effort. He wanted to dance with his wife.

Unfortunately, as soon as he had her in his arms on the dance floor, he realized something was very wrong.