Tall, Duke, and Dangerous

by Megan Frampton

  Lord Brunley was clueless when dealing with people of both genders. Very egalitarian of him.

  “And I would like to begin again, if I may. I realize I might have seemed overly—”

  “Aggressive?” Ana Maria blurted.

  He looked annoyed. Which was better than smug, so she’d take it.

  “Infatuated, I was going to say.” He frowned, giving her a sharp look of disapproval.

  Fine. She’d take his disapproval and fling it back at him, coating him as thoroughly with it as she’d been coated with the spilled brandy.

  “Might I ask for the honor of a dance?” He was already reaching for the dance card that dangled from her wrist.

  She couldn’t refuse, not without causing a scene.

  Why did polite Society have to be so . . . polite all the time?

  She allowed him to scribble his name on one of the lines, hoping that particular dance wouldn’t be a waltz.

  Her eyes found Nash again as she recalled waltzing with him the same night as the poker incident. How he looked at her, as though he were really seeing her for the first time.

  The way he moved, strong and assured, as though he knew his body well and knew what it was capable of.

  And now the room seemed even hotter.

  “If you will excuse me,” Ana Maria said, this time not waiting for Brunley to respond.

  She moved toward Nash, feeling how her breath was quickening, and how her body felt tight in her evening gown.

  And how his gaze tracked her as she made her way through the crowd.

  Nash tried to stop looking at her.

  But he wasn’t very good at denying himself anything—when had he ever needed to?

  He was a duke, after all. Dukes did not deny themselves. Even he, who wasn’t a particularly ducal duke, wasn’t told no, either by himself or anyone else.

  But he’d told her no.

  A decision that had him in agony. He wanted to kiss her again, do more than that, find out how responsive she’d be under his touch, share her laughter. Touch her golden skin.

  But he couldn’t care for her—not more than he did already—and kissing her, and more, would intensify whatever feelings he already had.

  “That duke’s cousin is coming toward us,” his grandmother remarked.

  He nearly snapped at her that he already knew, but the dowager duchess had no idea of his current obsession. Or any of his past obsessions, honestly.

  She didn’t know him. All she knew was that he was hopefully less bad than his father, which he had to prove by marrying and fathering an heir.

  He could do this.

  “I don’t understand why she isn’t under consideration,” the dowager duchess continued. “You are already acquainted with her, she doesn’t seem to dislike you, and she has good breeding, even if her brother turned out not to be the duke, after all.”

  Excellent recommendation for a potential spouse: familiarity with one another, an absence of loathing, and a family that was listed in Debrett’s.

  No wonder he found most of what was supposed to be his world so unexciting, if this was how they chose their marriage partners.

  But she was nearly here. He clamped his jaw, willing himself not to let one speck of his desire for her emerge. That wouldn’t be fair to her, especially since she had kissed him. If it then seemed he was interested, despite his protestations from earlier in the day? And then rebuffed her again?

  He’d be no better than those silly debutantes who blew hot and cold, making their potential suitors frantic with confusion.

  Not that he’d experienced that himself; he hadn’t gotten close enough to any of those silly debutantes to gauge their emotional weather forecast.

  Which was an odd way to put it.

  And that kind of thinking was likely also why he was currently unattached, with no prospects for changing that. Except for the one woman he’d explicitly told no.

  Excellent planning, Nash, he thought. If he could, he’d take himself to his boxing room and slap himself silly.

  “Good evening, Na—Your Grace,” she said. Her cheeks were a delicious-looking pink, and her eyes sparkled. She glanced over toward his grandmother. “And good evening to you, Your Grace.”

  His grandmother inclined her head very slightly. As always, subtly reminding anyone who came into her orbit that she was far better than they were. At least in her own mind.

  “Good evening, my lady,” Nash said. His voice sounded rough, and he cleared his throat in a likely futile attempt to sound more like the other gentlemen in the room. Gentlemen who knew what to say and when to say it, who didn’t have crises of conscience when lovely young women they’d known all their lives suddenly kissed them.

  It was unfortunate it was Sebastian’s sister he had kissed, because otherwise he could ask his much more experienced friend just what to do in this situation. But it was his best friend’s older sister, and he could not let anyone know how he truly felt.

  “Lady Ana Maria is addressing you, Your Grace.”

  He heard his grandmother’s words as though through a fog, a fog that was curvaceous and laughing, that made him want to feel things.

  Which was truly dangerous. That kind of feeling fog could also make him feel far too much, which would inevitably lead to passion and desire and other darker emotions. Things like jealousy and lust and longing.

  “Yes, my apologies, my lady.” He tried to use the tone his secretary, Robert, employed when he was letting Nash know he disapproved of something without actually saying it.

  Her sparkling gaze dimmed for a moment, and he felt the rush of another intense emotion—self-loathing. Why couldn’t he do this without hurting the people he loved?

  No. No, he didn’t love her. He cared for her, as the sister of his best friend, as a person he had known his entire life. He didn’t love her.

  He couldn’t.

  Because if he did, he would hurt her.

  “I was remarking that I have a few open spots on my dance card,” Ana Maria said. She raised the card in question, and he noticed the only claimed dance was with Lord Brunley.

  He heard a noise, and realized it was a growl. Coming from him.

  She raised an eyebrow. “So from that, I understand that you would like to claim a dance?”

  His grandmother cleared her throat in a meaningful way.

  But damned if he could figure out the meaning. Did she want him to dance with Ana Maria because then he would be seen dancing, and therefore, possibly, more appealing to the ladies he would dare to court? Or did she want him to gently reject Ana Maria, because then it might be misconstrued that they were courting, and therefore he was not an eligible candidate for the ladies he would dare to court?

  Yes, it was entirely ironic that he wished she had just spoken instead of making a noise. Ironic and also aggravating.

  But Ana Maria was still looking up at him, a challenging expression on her face.

  He took the small pencil she held in her other hand and scribbled his name next to the supper dance. It would mean spending more time with her than just the usual dance would require, but it would also mean that there was no possibility she would get stuck with some lord for all that time who was only hungry for her dowry and didn’t appreciate the woman attached to all that money.

  “Thank you, Nash,” she murmured, taking the pencil back from him. She glanced behind him to where his grandmother sat. “Pardon me, Your Grace, I am going to find my cousin, the duke.” She returned her gaze to Nash. “I am looking forward to our dance. You should ask some other ladies to dance also, I am certain they would appreciate it.”

  But her words didn’t match her expression, and now he couldn’t even figure out what words meant, not when the person speaking had such a different look on their face than what one would have expected.

  “Uh, yes,” he said, feeling more and more like an idiot.

  An idiot who was most definitely not in love with anybody and whose only strong emotions were for
fisticuffs and whiskey.

  Keep telling yourself that, a voice said in his head.

  He gritted his teeth as she walked away, his eyes unable to keep from following the gentle sway of her hips.

  “It is unfortunate you have deemed her not suitable,” his grandmother said in an acerbic tone. “Because she is the only lady I have seen you speak with that seemed to understand you.”

  And that’s what made her so dangerous.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ana Maria focused on keeping her posture straight and her expression cool, as though she had not just spoken with the person whose very existence was making her feel all sorts of ways all at the same time.

  Perhaps her efforts would mean that other ladies saw Nash as a viable suitor, not an enormous grunting lummox who stood in the corner at parties and glowered.

  And if it then meant he asked one of those now-appreciative ladies to marry him? She’d have to be pleased at the outcome, because it would mean someone would be happy.

  Just not her.

  “Ana Maria!”

  She turned as she heard her name called, her face breaking out into an enormous smile when she saw who it was—her sister-in-law, formerly Miss Ivy, who still owned the club named after her. Now she was Mrs. Sebastian de Silva, and she and Ana Maria’s brother lived in a house down the street from the club, while Ivy’s sister Octavia had taken over all the rooms in the back of the club.

  “I didn’t know you would be here,” Ana Maria said, clasping both Ivy’s hands in hers. “Is Sebastian here, too?”

  Ivy shook her head. “No, he is managing the club this evening. Octavia is off doing something highly secretive,” she said, casting her gaze upward in aggravation, “and I came because Lady Carlyle is a very good customer, and she invited me. I did not want to refuse, especially since I was certain I would see you.”

  “Let’s go sit on the terrace for a moment. It has been far too long since we’ve seen one another.” Because she and Ana Maria’s brother were spending most of their time alone together lately, leaving Octavia to manage the club and Sebastian’s dogs.

  Ivy nodded, taking Ana Maria’s arm in hers. The two ladies made their way through the crowd to the double doors that were flung open to let in a modicum of a breeze.

  “Over there,” Ana Maria said, nodding toward a bench at the far end of the terrace.

  The night air was refreshing, and Ana Maria took a few great gulps of it, already feeling more relaxed.

  Would she ever feel entirely comfortable in a room filled with Society’s finest people?

  She doubted it. Especially since she didn’t particularly want to be in a room with Society’s finest people—she’d far rather go to a club such as Miss Ivy’s, which admitted anybody, as long as they had money to gamble with. Or to fabric shops where she could meet people who were equally passionate about warp and weft.

  “I understand you and Octavia have been spending time together,” Ivy said as she sat down, smoothing her skirts over her lap. “I don’t think she would admit it, but I believe Octavia has been lonely since Sebastian and I set up our own household.”

  Ana Maria chuckled. “Your sister is keeping me from being lonely as well. Now that Sebastian has gone, and everything has changed.” And she did still have friends from her former life, but she and her friends were both acutely aware that they now inhabited different worlds. She couldn’t seriously complain to Jane or any of the other household workers about her discomfort at attending parties; they would think she was being spoiled. Which she supposed she would be. But it wasn’t as though she could just decide to return to her old life, so this new life had to be improved somehow.

  Which brought her to her plan.

  “Your sister and I have spent some time together visiting fabric houses. I believe she plans to redecorate the club?”

  Ivy nodded. “I think it’s a good thing—it will keep her from mischief. Hopefully,” she added, with a sigh that indicated an older sister’s long-suffering. “She said you were excellent at it, that she could rely entirely on your taste.”

  Ana Maria felt a warmth spread through her at the compliment. “That is good to hear. Because I wish to do the same for other places. Institutions like the Society for Poor and Unfortunate Children. I know it might seem frivolous to focus on redecorating those places, when they want food and shelter, but it is my belief that people will respond more to a place that appears to be well kept, and will want to donate more than if the house they lived in was shabby and poorly maintained.” She’d also ensure that Thaddeus donate some of his vast ducal wealth to those places, but she didn’t need to share that with Ivy at this moment. Since Thaddeus didn’t know yet.

  “You are correct,” Ivy said in an enthusiastic tone. “When I opened the club, not only did I have to provide an excellent gaming experience, I had to make sure my customers got a certain feeling from being there. It wasn’t enough just to have tables and dealers and good play. I took pains with the interior design, since Miss Ivy’s was a different experience than other clubs. And you wish me to let Sebastian know?”

  Ana Maria blinked in surprise. “Oh, I can tell him myself. I wanted to tell you first, as a businesswoman, to see if you thought it made sense.”

  “Will you charge the institutions for your services, then?” Ivy asked with a confused expression.

  “No, but I will present those places as proof that I can do the work. And, eventually, I hope that some people who can actually afford it will hire me.”

  Ivy grinned. “You’d better be careful, that sounds perilously close to being a lady who works. I thought you fancy aristocrats weren’t supposed to do anything so demeaning.”

  Ana Maria nudged Ivy in the shoulder. “You’re a fancy aristocrat, aren’t you?”

  Ivy shook her head vigorously. “Not anymore, not since I had the audacity to open a gambling house and marry an illegitimate man. I far prefer this life, to be honest.”

  Ana Maria rolled her eyes. “I can tell that, anybody can tell that. I thought that since you seemed to take to it so well, and it doesn’t seem as though Octavia has suffered, I should try. I don’t think the life of a traditional aristocratic lady is for me.”

  “Marriage, children, good works?” Ivy asked in a gentle tone. “Do you not wish for any of those?”

  Ana Maria’s chest felt tight. “I do want those things.” She thought of all the flowers in her salon, flowers from gentlemen who didn’t know her. Didn’t want to know her. But they did want to know her dowry. “But I can’t see how, not in my current situation. I don’t want a gentleman who wouldn’t be proud of who I was before, and none of the gentlemen I have met, or will meet, would be anything but horrified at what I used to do.” Except Nash, of course. Because he’d seen it all, and she knew he wouldn’t judge her. If anything, he’d likely respect her more because she’d been more than a decorative object.

  Ivy arched her brow. “I think you’re not meeting the right kind of gentlemen. Perhaps you should spend more time at Miss Ivy’s?”

  Ana Maria laughed. “Is this your not-so-subtle way to get me to come lose money at your establishment? You know I would do that anyway.”

  Ivy shrugged. “But if you come with the purpose of losing money and meeting someone who might pique your interest, it’s two goals you would accomplish instead of one.”

  “Very efficient of you,” Ana Maria remarked.

  Ivy rose, gesturing for Ana Maria to stay seated. “I have to go, your brother is at home with just the dogs for company.” She winked. “And I find I miss him.”

  Ana Maria rolled her eyes. “People in love are so dull. Always talking about their love, thinking about their love, being with their love—”

  “Just wait,” Ivy warned. “It will happen to you. And you’ll wonder how you ever breathed without the other person.”

  She waved goodbye, as though she hadn’t just sent Ana Maria into a flurry of confused thoughts, then set off through the doors and back
onto the dance floor, making her way toward the front of the house.

  Ana Maria watched her go, longing warring with worry as she pondered Ivy’s words. You’ll wonder how you ever breathed without the other person.

  She already spent far more time than she should thinking about Nash. If he weren’t in her life—when he was married to some Society lady who wanted to be a Society lady—would she miss him?

  The sharp ache in her heart answered her question.

  She wasn’t in the ballroom. The candles were just as bright, the music just as lively, the refreshments just as delicious.

  But everything seemed dimmed.

  He took one more thorough look, meeting a few people’s gazes, their smiles changing as they saw his glower. Good. Fewer people to talk to.

  Though that was the direct opposite of what he should be doing here.

  “Duke!” His grandmother rapped on the floor with her cane, as though making certain he heard her.

  He not only heard her, he felt her. Every time he thought about what his blackguard cousin might do to his half siblings. Every time he walked through the mansion—his mansion, even though it still felt odd to claim it—he felt as though there was a second duke there, one who was cruel and unforgiving and violent. The past of his father and the future of his cousin, if he didn’t do anything to stop it. Him, if he allowed himself to feel.

  “Yes, Your Grace?” he said, turning to look at her. Forcing himself not to fold his arms over his chest. He knew that position was deliberately aggressive, he’d used it for that very effect many times in the past, and he did not want to appear that way in front of his grandmother. Not that she would be intimidated if he did—the only thing that seemed to rattle her was when he appeared without a shirt.

  Good information to have, should his goal ever be to thoroughly befuddle his grandmother.

  “You should be dancing.” She gestured toward the dance floor with her cane. “You’re just standing there, not talking to anyone, not asking anyone to dance.”

  “I asked Lady Ana Maria to dance!” he retorted.