The Perfect Duchess

by Jen YatesNZ

Not love—but definitely lust.

  The succession to the Wolverton titles and estates looked more secure.

  And Bax, whose arrogant nose was daily looking more in danger of rearrangement, was nevertheless correct in his instincts about Sheri. Any hint of ice had melted in Dom’s arms with gratifying speed.

  She wasn’t Jassie. Perhaps he’d finally been given a chance to cleanse his mind, his body, his heart of its obsession for Lady Jassinda Windermere. The dream had been such an integral part of him for so long, he wasn’t sure he knew how to let it go. But if he and Sheri were to have a chance, he had to try.

  …

  As Dom rode into Grosvenor Square next morning Carter was holding Dream Lady at the steps of Parmenter House. The door opened, but it was a footman who hurried down and bowed low to Dom.

  ‘Her Ladyship will be with you shortly, Your Grace. She begs your indulgence for a few minutes.’

  ‘You may tell her Ladyship to take all the time she wants.’

  With a further low bow the man scurried up the steps and Dom kept Freya moving easily round the central gardens of the Square. Doubtless Sheri had been unable to sleep for the aroused state he’d left her in last night and then had overslept. Unable to keep the smile from his face, he rode back to Parmenter House as Carter was assisting his mistress to mount.

  ‘Good morning, Sher.’ Riding in close so their knees were almost touching, he reached for her hand and raised it to his lips. Damned gloves. He wanted to feel her skin. His impatience was mounting and he’d take that as a good sign. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Good morning, Your Grace. Yes, thank you.’

  So—prim. Subdued. He tried to see past the shadows under the brim of her hat.

  ‘Are—you well?’

  Something was wrong.

  ‘Very well thank you, Your Grace. Shall we ride?’

  They set off side by side. Disconcerted by her formality he resorted to talking of the weather.

  ‘There’s a bit of cloud massing in the west, but I think we’ll get our ride in safely enough.’

  ‘I think you’re right.’

  More silence!

  ‘Do I need to apologize for last night? Did I—come on too strong? Leave you—uncomfortable—disturb your sleep perhaps?’

  Her chin came up just a little, but she still wouldn’t look at him.

  ‘It certainly gave me much to think about,’ he admitted when nothing more was forthcoming.

  ‘No need to apologize.’

  The words were stilted. She sounded uncomfortable. Where was the passionate, almost abandoned creature he’d held in his arms last night?

  ‘Sher!’ he said sharply so she swung round to face him directly. ‘I can take a scolding if that’s what you want to deliver! Did I move too fast for you?’

  She was gazing straight ahead again, but he’d glimpsed her eyes and he’d swear she’d been crying. Dammit, he would have answers!

  ‘No!’

  He hadn’t moved too fast for her, which meant—

  ‘What has made you cry then?’

  Her eyes scrunched shut as if she fought tears even now, and her chin dropped.

  ‘Sher?’ The crush of traffic was already building in Upper Brook Street, so he allowed her to avoid speaking until they’d entered the Park and left the early morning bustle of the streets behind them. He pulled Freya to a halt. ‘Sheri, we’ve already agreed we must share our thoughts, good or bad.’

  She sat her horse beside him, somberness a cloud about her. He’d never seen her like this and had an uneasy feeling he was the cause.

  Raising her head to stare straight ahead, she said, ‘Last night—you made me want—more. I’m afraid I’ll want more than you’re able to give—to me.’

  This was about Jassie. God damn his foolish heart!

  ‘I’m a man of honor, Sher. I will—I have—put what I feel for Jassie behind me. I believe we’d have a good marriage.—Do you enjoy my company?’

  Her head shot round then and she looked directly at him.

  ‘You know I do!’

  ‘Then—let us just ride and enjoy the morning—and each other.—What did you think of the play last night?’

  He managed to get her laughing as they recalled the frantic efforts of one of the minor characters to recover from tripping right in front of Lady Teazle on the stage and discussed the extremely high feathered turban Lady Cowper had been sporting on her head and the possible inconveniences such a fashion piece could cause. Her whole demeanor had lightened considerably and Dom was feeling quite pleased with himself when a rider on a well-muscled golden palomino stallion with cream mane and tail cantered towards them from Hyde Park Corner.

  Recognition considerably dampened his sense of well-being. Glancing at Sheri and noting the quickening of her interest he guessed she hadn’t recognized his cousin, but true to her nature, had noticed the beautiful animal he rode.

  ‘What a beautiful—’, she began then stopped, her smile fading. ‘Oh, it’s Lord Baxendene.’

  Her expression went from delight to dismay so quickly Dom was furious. His cousin was becoming seriously annoying!

  ‘Morning, Lady Sherida! Your Grace!’

  Bax doffed his hat and held it at his heart while making a faultless bow to Sheri. Even on horseback he was the epitome of suave grace, amazing in such a big man. It didn’t stop Dom from burning to tip the bastard off his pretty horse!

  ‘I hoped to find you out here this morning, Sheri! I wanted to introduce you to Zeus. Is he not the most beautiful stallion you’ve ever seen? Would you not like some of his progeny in your stable?’

  Dom couldn’t take his eyes off Sheri—who couldn’t take her eyes off the horse.

  He was a big, well-formed animal, as was needed to carry a man the size of the Great Bax. He was also inordinately handsome, just like his blackguard of a master and Dom knew Sheri was terribly tempted.

  But he didn’t like the game he feared Bax was playing. His cousin hated to lose—especially to Dom. From the time he’d been old enough to bed his first woman, Bax, almost three years younger, measured himself against Dom in everything. When he’d grown an inch taller and somewhat broader in the shoulders Dom had thought he might finally be satisfied. But by then the friendly rivalry between them had become a habit, a way of life that led them to indulge in more and more ludicrous contests—always involving a bet.

  None had ever been as important as this. Dom had never wanted to walk away, call a bet off. He was going to call this one off, should never have agreed to it in the first place.

  Assessing Zeus, Sheri rode right round him while Bax gloated like a miser with his treasure.

  ‘I have a chestnut mare, Red Lady. There’s a good chance he’d throw foals with that cream mane and tail, isn’t there?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Bax agreed. ‘And this big boy would be most appreciative of the opportunity.’

  The bastard’s eyes had that smoky gleam they got when he was thinking about sex. Dom rode Freya between them and Bax had to back off a little.

  Sheri turned to Dom.

  ‘I’d like to look at him a little more closely.’

  Bax was on the ground, assisting her to dismount before Dom could blink. His big hands were at her waist and he was sliding her down the front of his body, much more closely than was either necessary or proper. The high color in Sheri’s cheeks attested to the fact she knew it too. Careful not to make eye contact, she handed her reins up to Dom. He wondered if she’d noticed his clenched fists and thought he needed something to occupy him.

  And perhaps he did. Especially when Bax remained close enough to touch while she checked out the animal’s mouth and lifted his hooves.

  ‘He’s quiet for a stallion,’ she said, returning to her own mount and waiting for him to hand her up again.

  For a moment Bax stood at her knee smiling winningly up at her, then remounted.

  ‘Would you like to use him?’ he queried.

  ‘I would,’
Sheri agreed tersely.

  Wheeling Zeus around he came in close to Sheri’s other side and said in a voice husky with suggestiveness, ‘I’m sure something could be arranged.’

  Sheri’s face had gone quite stiff and she barely nodded in agreement.

  Dom had had enough. He spurred Freya menacingly towards Bax, who doffed his hat once again and backed off.

  ‘Send me word when you’re ready for him,’ he said, and with a backward grin at Dom galloped off, the big animal thundering across the Park with a fluid grace not lost on either of the watchers.

  Sheri seemed pensive as they rode on and Dom was inclined to let her be for the moment. He had demons of his own to vanquish. He’d never felt so territorial around a woman before, not even Jassie. No matter how deeply he’d longed for her, in his innermost being he’d always known she belonged to Rogue.

  With a shake of his head he asked, ‘Are you engaged for Lady Hurstwick’s ball tonight?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘May I escort you? And Aunt Gussy of course.’

  ‘Thank you. Mama would really appreciate that.’

  ‘It wasn’t Mama I was hoping to impress!’

  Her smile was back.

  ‘Thank you, Your Grace. I’d like that. I’m afraid I’m not very good at this—courting. I can’t seem to relax with it.’

  ‘It’s a serious business after all. Whatever decisions we make from it determine our happiness for the rest of our lives. Those clouds look a little more ominous. Perhaps we should turn for home.’

  …

  Dom had scandalously written his name beside every dance on her card and scowled away every one of her usual loyal partners when they gathered to complain. Augusta wore the satisfied smile of a mother who can finally see her chick settled. The tabbies had their heads together and some of the younger women were shooting her dagger glances. Having the Duke’s undivided attention was guaranteed to make her unpopular.

  That he’d chosen to escort Sheri and her mother tonight, then devote his attention entirely to herself was a declaration in itself.

  She was still teetering on the terrible seesaw of indecision, wanting with a desperation beyond painful to commit herself to Dom regardless of the consequences—until she thought of those possible consequences; of the moment he saw beneath the trappings of beautiful clothes to the ugly reality.

  Early in the evening she decided to just enjoy the moment, to enjoy living the dream of being the focus of Dom’s attention and whenever the seesaw threatened to dip her down into that place where pain and doubt awaited, she’d glance up at Dom’s profile and smile. Such a noble beautiful profile—until he turned and one saw the scar, jagged and ugly down the side of his face. Like her he was imperfect, his beauty flawed. But unlike her, his flaw was visible, a mark of bravery and service to King and country.

  They’d performed a country dance and a waltz together and were sipping glasses of punch and watching as the younger ones danced a reel, the men’s coat-tails flying and the ladies flushed and laughing.

  ‘I think I’m getting too old for that kind of undignified antic,’ he said, leaning back to look at Sheri. ‘I prefer the elegance of the waltz—and the chance to hold my lady close! Perhaps we should dance every waltz and sit out the rest?’

  He smiled down at her, eyes gleaming wickedly.

  ‘Good evening, Lady Sheri! Your Grace!’

  Their view of the dance floor was obliterated by the blazing elegance of Haden Delacourte, Earl of Baxendene.

  In black satin evening clothes with a waistcoat of silver brocaded silk, his elegance, honed muscular form and stark male beauty were as overwhelming as his size.

  ‘I’ve braved the terrors of three different ballrooms to find you tonight, my Lady. My diligence and determination should be rewarded with the next waltz in your fair arms. May I?’ he asked, boldly purloining her dance card.

  Scanning it briefly he immediately saw Dom had claimed every dance and tutted in excellent imitation of the Princess Lieven when she perceived someone had committed a social solecism.

  ‘This will never do, Lady Sheri, my dear,’ he intoned in a near accurate copy of the Princess’s accent. ‘The tabbies will scold from all directions at once!’ He turned towards Dom. ‘This isn’t guarding your lady’s reputation, it’s setting her up for total shredding! What are you thinking, Your Grace?’

  By the last two words he’d dropped the accent and reverted to his usual mocking drawl.

  It was fairly obvious what His Grace was thinking right now, Sheri thought, as his gaze smoldered between her and Bax. She’d always thought those two had an amazing rapport with one another, cared for one another like brothers, not just cousins.

  Lately they’d seemed more like arch rivals—with her the bone of contention. She laid her hand on Dom’s knee. Very forward, but perhaps enough to give him pause, remind him where they were—and who they were.

  Dukes didn’t indulge in unseemly brawls in fashionable ballrooms.

  ‘Just one waltz. That’s all I ask. You can spare one, Wolf. Good God, your name’s on every dance!’ Bax needled.

  Dom finally lowered his gaze from Bax’s brash magnificence to glance at Sheri.

  ‘It’s up to you, Sher,’ he said, though his voice sounded a little harsh. ‘I’m not inclined to concede a single one now I have them—unless you wish it.’

  Bax had the right of it, she knew, besides which, it might be wise to show Dom he couldn’t totally command her—as apparently he liked to do. While occasionally she enjoyed that manly, take-charge attitude, she was quite capable of making her own decisions and usually preferred to do so.

  ‘I’ll dance the next waltz with Bax. That’s all,’ she said, glaring up at him so he clearly understood the favor she granted him.

  With his right hand on his heart he took hers in his left and raised it to his lips with a theatrical flourish.

  Then scoring through Dom’s name beside the next waltz, he scrawled his own, returning the card to her with another perfectly executed bow.

  ‘Arrogant puppy!’ Dom snarled, as Bax sauntered across the room. ‘If I don’t miss my guess, he’s more than a little foxed. The odd thing about my cousin is the more he imbibes, the more elegantly sober he appears. Handy at the card table but—a trait discerning young ladies should be wary of.—Come, let’s dance before some other young buck comes along and sweet talks you out of one of my dances.’

  Breathless from yet another country dance, she and Dom were talking with her mother when Bax materialized from the card room.

  ‘My dance I do believe, Lady Sheri.’

  He made her an elegant leg, greeted Lady Augusta then swept Sheri onto the floor.

  ‘What is that boy about?’ Augusta demanded. ‘He never attends these affairs! As much as I’d like to see some good woman make a real man of him that woman is not my Sheri!’

  Mama’s voice was quite strident and her words carried easily after them as they walked onto the dance floor. But she didn’t hear Dom’s reply—if there was one. He was probably grinding his teeth so the scar on his cheek gleamed white with tension.

  One arm enclosing her, Bax took her hand in his other and closed the space between their bodies—until there was no space! She tried to ease back but he just pressed a little harder, his arm like iron.

  ‘I have a proposition for you,’ he murmured.

  ‘Proposition?’

  ‘Sh! Don’t want tongues to start wagging! You want to use my horse as a stud, which usually incurs a stud fee. Right?’

  He swirled her elegantly about the floor.

  Sheri nodded, starting to get a bad feeling about where Bax was going with this.

  ‘What would be more fitting as a ‘stud fee’ than a ‘stud service’?’

  Sheri couldn’t believe she’d heard him right.

  ‘Say no more, Lord Baxendene, or I’ll publicly embarrass us both.’

  ‘Aw, Sher. Don’t go all Iceberg on me. I know that’s just
a facade you use to keep the men at bay. Be mine for a night and you may have Zeus free—and my estate in Somerset.’

  Her chest swelled, her whole body went rigid with the desire to slap his smiling, arrogant face. That he might be foxed, as Dom had warned, seemed distinctly probable, but she had no intention of dancing another step with him.

  ‘Good night, Lord Baxendene. And I do not thank you for the dance!’ she snapped and stalked off the floor.

  He stood grinning after her; that infernal grin that never seemed to leave his handsome face. Then he shrugged and walked in the opposite direction, disappearing through the French doors.

  Dom was talking with their hostess, Lady Hurstwick, and had his back to the floor as if deliberately refusing to watch her dance with his cousin. From the tension across his shoulders she guessed he was furious. It might be better to avoid him for if he guessed any of what Bax had been about he’d probably storm after him and call him out. And she wasn’t in the mood to fend off Mama’s questions either.

  Slipping out of the ballroom she hurried along to the ladies’ retiring room where she could sponge her hot face with cool water, tidy her hair and generally order her scattered thoughts. It was an immense relief to find it empty.

  There’d been no misunderstanding Bax, no granting him the benefit of any doubt. His reputation was well-earned. Did she dare hope Dom hadn’t noticed she’d cut the dance short?

  And Mama!

  ‘Are you all right, Sher?’

  Her old friend, Lady Sally Harewood, slipped in the door and crossed to where Sheri talked silently to her reflection in the mirror. ‘What did that great lummox say to you?’

  ‘Sally! I didn’t see you here!’

  ‘It’s such a crush, isn’t it? But I knew you were here! Hard to miss you tonight. You’ve got all the tabbies buzzing and hissing! You’ve danced every dance with the Duke of Wolverton—until this last—and then you leave the gloriously handsome, wickedly naughty Great Bax in the middle of the floor! Clearly he was being improper. So like him!’

  ‘He was,’ Sheri sighed and sank down onto a small sofa their hostess had provided. Sally dropped beside her in a flurry of silken skirts. ‘Dom warned me he could be—disguised. I guess he was right. Now I have to make up some faradiddle to prevent Dom calling his cousin out!’