Page 5 of Wedded to the Duke of Sin (Dukes of Passion #2)

CHAPTER 5

“ A lice, stop fidgeting! One would think you were expecting an assault rather than an evening of music.” Joanna Frowerton adjusted her friend’s shawl with an exasperated sigh. “Though I must say, you’ve been jumping at shadows for weeks.”

“I do not jump at shadows.” Alice forced her hands to still in her lap as their carriage approached the Sutcliffe mansion. “I am merely vigilant.”

“Vigilant?” Joanna’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Is that what we’re calling it? Because I could have sworn you nearly leaped out of your skin when someone mentioned the Duke of Ashthorne at Lady Preston’s tea yesterday.”

“Pure coincidence. I was startled by… by the cat.”

“There was no cat.”

“Well, there might have been.”

Candlelight spilled out of the Sutcliffe mansion’s windows, and the sounds of preliminarily tuning instruments drifted through the night air.

Alice took a fortifying breath as their carriage joined the queue. She could do this. One evening of music and polite conversation. Surely, he wouldn’t be?—

“Oh look,” Joanna said brightly as they entered the crowded music room. “His Grace is here, after all.”

Alice’s heart stuttered. There he was, devastating in evening black, wearing that insufferable smirk as he conversed with Lord Gerard.

Before he could spot her, she ducked behind a conveniently placed potted palm.

“Very dignified,” Joanna murmured, following her into the inadequate shelter. “Quite the thing. Shall we spend the entire evening admiring the fronds?”

“You don’t understand.” Alice peered through the leaves. “Every time I encounter that man, something mortifying occurs.”

“More mortifying than hiding behind shrubbery?”

“Much more—oh!” Alice grabbed Joanna’s arm. “He’s looking this way. Quick, look natural.”

“Yes, because two ladies attempting to merge with the decorative foliage is the very soul of natural behavior.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You need me to—Good evening, Your Grace!”

Alice closed her eyes in defeat.

“Lady Joanna.” Dorian’s voice held barely suppressed laughter. “And Lady Alice. I hadn’t realized you were such an enthusiast of… botanical specimens.”

“Some specimens,” Alice said without turning, “are best avoided entirely.”

“And yet here you are, practically embracing one.” He moved closer, his breath stirring the curls at her temple. “Though I must say, the palm is a poor substitute for more… interesting diversions.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” His voice dropped lower. “Shall I elaborate?”

“Please don’t.”

“Your loss.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Though I do wonder what other activities you might prefer in dark corners.”

Joanna let out what sounded suspiciously like a smothered laugh.

“I prefer activities conducted in full view of Society,” Alice said primly, finally turning to face him.

A mistake. His blue eyes danced with wicked amusement, and that devastating smile made her pulse race traitorously.

“Do you, indeed?” He offered her his arm. “Then perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you somewhere more visible. Unless you’ve developed a particular attachment to this palm?”

“I—”

“Excellent notion!” Joanna practically pushed Alice forward. “I believe Mama is waving at me. If you’ll excuse me…”

“Traitor,” Alice muttered as her friend disappeared into the crowd, leaving her no choice but to accept Dorian’s arm.

“Now then.” He guided her toward the refreshments table. “Shall we discuss your sudden interest in horticulture, or would you prefer to explain why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“No?” His thumb rubbed small circles on her gloved hand. “So, you didn’t practically dive behind Lady Atherton’s enormous hat at the park yesterday?”

“I was admiring her ostrich feathers.”

“Of course you were.” He handed her a glass of punch. “Just as you were studying tropical flora this evening.”

“Perhaps I simply find plants more interesting than dukes.”

“Liar.” But his smile softened the accusation. “Though I must admit, your methods of evasion are highly entertaining. I particularly enjoyed watching you pretend to be fascinated by young Lord Pembroke’s discourse on sheep farming this afternoon.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a burst of sycophantic laughter from across the room.

Lord Treyfield held court near two large settees, surrounded by a cluster of lesser nobility eager to curry favor with the new Earl. His voice carried deliberately through the room, pitched to draw attention.

“My dear Lady Jersey, you must see the improvements I’ve planned for the estate,” he was saying, his chest puffed out with self-importance. “The previous management was sadly provincial in its outlook. But I intend to restore the earldom to its proper glory.”

“How wonderful,” Lady Jersey cooed. “Though your dear nephew did have such unique ideas about land management.”

“Ah yes.” Something cold flickered in Lord Treyfield’s eyes before his jovial mask slipped back into place. “Poor Lawrence. Such a shame, we lost him so young. Fortunately, the title passed to experienced hands, and his legacy will be preserved.”

Alice felt Dorian stiffen beside her, his earlier playfulness vanishing. She glanced up to find his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on Lord Treyfield with barely concealed contempt.

When Lord Treyfield’s gaze fell on them, his expression shifted to one of calculated concern. He detached himself from his admirers and approached.

“Ah, Your Grace.” His cold voice carried across the remaining distance. “I believe we have business to discuss.”

The Duke’s entire demeanor changed, his easy smile vanishing. “Not now, Lord Treyfield.”

“The matter is urgent.” Lord Treyfield’s gaze slid to Alice. “Though perhaps your new interests take precedence?”

“They do.” The Duke’s voice held an edge that Alice had never heard before. “Good evening.”

“Your Grace.” Lord Treyfield withdrew with a bow, and the warmth gradually returned to the Duke’s manner, though Alice noticed that his hand had balled into a fist by his side.

“You were at the lending library?” Alice asked, attempting to return to their conversation.

“I do know how to read, shocking as that may seem.”

“I assumed your literary pursuits were confined to more scandalous materials.”

His eyebrows rose. “Have you been thinking about my reading habits, my lady? How intriguing. Would you like recommendations?”

“I would not.”

“Are you sure? I have an extensive collection of very… educational volumes.”

“You are impossible.”

“So you keep saying.” He stepped closer, and suddenly the crowded room felt very warm, indeed. “And yet here you are, still talking to me.”

“Only because you have trapped me by the punch bowl.”

“Is that what I’ve done?” His eyes held hers. “How nefarious of me. Though I must point out, you are free to leave at any time.”

She should. She absolutely should. But something in his gaze held her captive, making her breath come faster and her skin tingle where his arm pressed against hers.

“I say, Your Grace!” The Earl of Drakeley’s cheerful voice broke the spell. “Monopolizing all the lovely ladies again? Most unfair.”

Alice seized the opportunity to put some distance between herself and temptation. “Lord Drakeley, how lovely to see you.”

“Is it?” The Earl’s eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mirth. “How fascinating. You must tell me all about your sudden interest in palm trees.”

Alice groaned. “Does everyone know about that?”

“Only those of us blessed with functioning eyes.” He grinned. “Though I must say, your technique needs work. Next time, try the curtains. Much better coverage.”

“I despise you both.”

“No, you don’t.” Dorian’s voice was warm with amusement. “You find us utterly charming.”

“I find you utterly?—”

“Should I tell her about the time you climbed into the Trinity College chapel to rescue that cat?” The Earl’s eyes danced with mischief. “His Grace here ruined his best coat and nearly broke his neck, all to save a mangy stray.”

“That’s hardly an appropriate story—” the Duke began.

“Oh, but it is! Our noble Duke spent three hours coaxing the poor creature down, then kept it hidden in his rooms for a month, sneaking it milk and fish. The stern, imposing Duke of Ashthorne, secret protector of wayward creatures.”

The Duke’s genuine laugh surprised her. “As I recall, you were the one who helped me smuggle that cat out in your mathematics textbook.”

“Well, it’s not as if I was using it for anything else.”

“Lady Alice, darling!” Lady Westhaven descended upon them in a rustle of expensive silk. “I have been looking everywhere for you. You simply must come and hear Evelyn play. She’s composed the most delightful piece, and your brother has offered to turn pages for her.”

Alice blinked. “Thomas is going to assist with music?”

“Indeed!” Lady Westhaven beamed. “Such a thoughtful young man. Though I am sure Your Grace needs no introduction to Lord Colton’s many fine qualities.”

The look Dorian gave her suggested that he could think of several introductions, none of them flattering.

“None whatsoever.”

“Wonderful.” Lady Westhaven took Alice’s arm. “You’ll excuse us, gentlemen? The performance is about to begin.”

As she was dragged away, Alice glanced back to find Dorian watching her with an intensity that made her shiver. He raised his glass in a mocking salute, and she quickly faced forward again.

“Fascinating man, the Duke of Ashthorne,” Lady Westhaven observed. “Though perhaps not quite suitable company for an unmarried lady.”

If she only knew.

But Alice’s retort died on her lips as they entered the main salon. There was Thomas, looking surprisingly at ease as he helped Lady Evelyn arrange her sheet music.

Her brother caught her eye and actually winked .

Well, perhaps the evening wouldn’t be a complete disaster, after all.

“One more thing, dear.” Lady Westhaven paused before they reached their seats. “Do try to be less obvious when hiding behind the greenery. The palm was most inadequate.”

Alice sank into her chair, her cheeks burning.

Joanna, naturally, chose that moment to rejoin them, her eyes dancing with poorly suppressed mirth.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Alice muttered as her friend sat beside her.

“Hear what? I was merely going to compliment your brother’s newfound appreciation for Mozart.”

Indeed, Thomas appeared utterly absorbed in his page-turning duties, though Alice suspected his attention had more to do with the way Lady Evelyn’s fingers moved gracefully over the keys than any sudden passion for classical music.

“At least someone’s evening is going well,” Alice whispered, then immediately regretted it, as Joanna’s grin widened.

“And yours isn’t? Despite such stimulating conversation about plant life?”

“I hate you.”

“So you keep saying. Oh look, His Grace has moved to a better vantage point.”

Alice’s head snapped up before she could stop herself. Dorian had indeed positioned himself where he could see her clearly.

When their eyes met, he raised an eyebrow, and she quickly returned her attention to Evelyn’s performance.

“Not at all obvious,” Joanna murmured.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of music and conversation, though Alice remained acutely aware of Dorian’s presence. He seemed to materialize whenever she least expected him—offering refreshments, commenting on the music, and even managing to secure the one dance allowed at such gatherings.

“You are watching the door again,” Joanna noted as they prepared to leave. “Hoping to catch one last glimpse of someone in particular?”

“I am merely ensuring that Thomas remembers to escort us to the carriage.”

“Of course you are. Though I believe His Grace offered to perform that duty.”

Alice’s pulse quickened. “Did he? I hadn’t noticed.”

“No?” Joanna laughed softly. “Then I suppose you also haven’t noticed him approaching now?”

Later, in the blessed solitude of her bedchamber, Alice replayed the evening while her maid helped her prepare for bed. The way Dorian’s hand had felt on her waist as he guided her across the room. The warmth in his voice when he’d helped her into the carriage. The intensity in his eyes that made her feel as though they were alone in a crowded room.

“Will that be all, my lady?” Mary asked, setting down the hairbrush.

“What? Oh, yes. Thank you.”

Finally alone, Alice moved to the window and pressed her forehead against the cool glass pane.

The Duke of Ashthorne was without doubt the most infuriating man of her acquaintance. Arrogant, presumptuous, far too aware of his charm?—

And yet.

There had been moments when something deeper flickered beneath that polished surface. The way his expression darkened when Lord Treyfield was mentioned. The genuine warmth in his laugh when Lord Drakeley told that ridiculous story about their Cambridge days.

“This is madness,” she told her reflection.

She had far too many responsibilities to waste time mooning over a rake. Thomas’s courtship with Lady Evelyn was progressing well, thank heaven, but their family’s situation remained precarious. She needed to focus on that, not on how Dorian’s smile made her heart race or how his voice seemed to caress her name.

With a sigh, she moved to her bed, determined to put all thoughts of insufferable dukes out of her mind.

But as she drifted off to sleep, she could have sworn she still felt the phantom pressure of his hand on her waist, still heard the low murmur of his voice.

“Sweet dreams, my lady.”

Absolutely insufferable man.