Tall, Duke, and Dangerous

by Megan Frampton

  Ana Maria felt as though she were choking from her emotion. She couldn’t speak for a few moments, just shook her head. “I—those aren’t the only options.”

  Jane folded her arms over her chest. “What else is there, then?”

  “There’s me! And what I want to do!”

  Jane narrowed her gaze. “And what is that? Because I can’t believe you want to return to doing what you used to. Even if it were possible.”

  “No, I don’t.” She paused. “But I want to do something. And that something is not get married to somebody with teeth and flowers just because there are no other opportunities.”

  “Not that big lummox!” Jane exclaimed.

  Ana Maria’s face grew hot. Jane looked smug.

  “I thought so.”

  “No, that is not happening.” Ana Maria spoke firmly, as if that would stop Jane from talking.

  “I’ve seen how you look at him. You’ve always looked at him that way.” Jane shrugged. “Now that you are who you are, finally, why can’t it happen?”

  Ana Maria plopped down on her bed, gesturing for Jane to sit beside her. “It sounds so easy when you say it.”

  “But it is easy. The duchess wouldn’t have allowed it. She’d have been too jealous of your position, but now that she is gone and your cousin is in charge? Why not?”

  “He doesn’t want to for some reason.”

  “What possible reason could that be? Is he damaged in some way?”

  Ana Maria blushed even more at Jane’s implication, and the fact that she knew the answer, nearly firsthand, so to speak. “It’s not that. He is most definitely not damaged.”

  At least not that way—but she knew he was hurting; his offhand comments and various grunts and growls told her that much.

  “Oh, so it’s like that, is it?”

  “Can we stop having this conversation? I need to go to Miss Ivy’s today. I am going to help Miss Octavia redecorate.” Possibly she could match her cheeks to the red silk she imagined using on the walls.

  And then she remembered it wouldn’t be the perfect day, after all. “Drat! And Lord Brunley is coming to take me to see his chestnuts.” Why had she agreed? Idiot, idiot, idiot.

  “I just want you to be happy.” Jane reached over to take Ana Maria’s hand. Her fingers were rough with calluses.

  “I will be, I promise.” With or without him, she thought. Because she was in charge of her own happiness now, and she wouldn’t wait while some confused behemoth sorted his thoughts. But she would go ahead and take what she wanted, if he was willing.

  “What time is Lord Brunley arriving?”

  Ana Maria shook her head. “I think this afternoon sometime.”

  “Miss Ivy’s first, then, is it?” Jane said as she rose from the bed. “I thought you were going to redo this room first?”

  “I can do both.”

  Ana Maria stood as well, gazing around at the understated colors of her bedroom. Her soul longed for color and vibrancy, and now that she was set on her course, she would get it.

  “You can.” Jane spoke with the same confidence Ana Maria felt. “Now let’s get you on your way so you can accomplish everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

  “And then I have to go see Lord Brunley’s brown horses,” Ana Maria said in a disgruntled tone.

  “He likely won’t allow you to redecorate them,” Jane said in a sly tone, making Ana Maria laugh.

  “Duke!”

  Nash groaned as he heard his grandmother’s voice down the hall. He rose from his chair, going to the door of his study to find her—he didn’t necessarily want to speak with her, but he wasn’t going to make an ancient lady travel when he could use his own two legs to find her.

  So that she could scold him or annoy him in some way.

  “There you are,” she said. Her lady’s maid’s expression was as disapproving as his grandmother’s tone. “We spoke about the need for you to obtain some manners—”

  “You spoke about it,” Nash interrupted.

  “And I have time now.”

  No question if he had time, he noticed. Although he did, so he had nothing to gripe about.

  Except the entire and complete intrusion and upending of his life.

  “In here?” he said, gesturing toward his study.

  The dowager duchess scowled. “Not ‘in here.’ You should say, ‘Would you care to come inside?’ or something more polite. And no, not there.”

  Nash rolled his eyes, but didn’t respond as he normally would.

  “Would you care to go to the ballroom, then?” he asked, making his tone deliberately formal.

  “Better. And yes.”

  His grandmother turned, taking her lady’s maid’s arm and making her way back down the hallway to the ballroom.

  Nash followed, having to keep his stride about half what it usually was because of his grandmother’s pace. Look, he wanted to say, I’m accommodating you now, only you aren’t even registering it.

  Humph.

  He waited as his grandmother was settled on one of the low sofas that hugged the edge of the room.

  He rarely came here; this was where parties were held, and Nash did not hold parties beyond having Sebastian and Thaddeus over for whiskey.

  This room was where his father had spent many evenings, which meant that Nash had an instinctive dislike of it. Even now he could picture his father—red-faced, loud, and frequently angry—standing in the middle of the room bellowing out orders as people scurried to obey.

  Nash hadn’t been old enough to actually attend the parties his father threw, but he had snuck out from his bedroom and watched the guests arrive. Mostly gentlemen like his father, with a few ladies he later realized were not of the aristocracy at all. He hadn’t thought about it then, but he wondered now if his father and his friends had hurt the women. He didn’t doubt it. He wished he could find them and make reparation, but he supposed it would have to do to hire as many of his father’s bastards as he could find.

  “What are you doing?” his grandmother said. “Standing around gawking at what?”

  Nash shook his head. “Nothing.” He felt his hands clench into fists, and couldn’t help but start pacing, the fury inside him roaring to life.

  The dowager duchess thumped her cane. “Come sit. I can tell it is not nothing.”

  Nash suppressed a sigh—a sigh! Him!—and sat beside her, careful not to jostle the sofa cushions too much with his weight.

  She turned to him, folding her hands in her lap. “He wasn’t a good man.”

  “What?” Nash said, startled.

  “Your father.”

  “How did you—?”

  “Because you looked like he used to. Right before—” She stopped suddenly, and he got a chill up his spine.

  I look like him when I get angry.

  “That is why I want to make certain that your heir does not inherit. He gets that look also, and I have heard of things he has done . . .” She trailed off, and he felt his chest tighten. This was why it was so important he not care. Because caring led to violence. His father had shown that.

  “But at the moment the only lady who seems as though she might accept you is Lady Felicity, and while she would be suitable, she is not ideal.”

  Nash’s eyebrows rose. “What makes you say that?”

  His grandmother made a dismissive gesture. “She is a bit obvious.”

  “Because she wants to be a duchess?” Nash snorted. “Isn’t that what all of them want?”

  His grandmother raised her nose in the air even higher than usual. “Yes, of course. But it is not something a lady should exhibit.”

  I want to kiss you.

  She said what she wanted. He liked that; otherwise, how would he possibly know? He was obviously terrible at figuring things out, since he’d never tried before. Certainly not with a lady. His friends told him what they wanted from him also: usually more whiskey, or for him to stop being an ass.

  He could oblige them on the former b
ut not always on the latter.

  Marrying and fathering a child was his chance to right the wrongs that his father had done. That his cousin would do, if given the title.

  “All right,” he said, taking a deep breath. “What do I need to learn?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “So we’re decided,” Ana Maria said. “The magenta for the main wall, the dark blue for the others.”

  Octavia nodded as she looked down at the fabric samples laid on top of one of the green gaming tables. “You have an excellent eye, I never would have thought of putting those two colors together, but they work perfectly.”

  Ana Maria smiled in response. “And then we will re-cover the chairs in that purple later on.”

  “When we can afford it,” Octavia said with a grimace. “The club is still doing well, but Ivy is so conservative with money.” She gave an exasperated sigh. “I wish she would just leave everything to me—she could spend more time with Sebastian, but she just can’t seem to let go.”

  “I suppose she enjoys having a purpose.”

  “Besides kissing your brother?” Octavia said with a sly grin.

  Ana Maria made a face. “I do not want to think of my brother doing that, even though I know he does.”

  “She does like working, I know that. I believe Sebastian presented her with some sort of option that would require her leaving the club, but she said no.”

  Being able to say no to something like that—that was what she wanted. That was what she was going to take.

  As long as she could also say yes.

  “And what now?” Octavia said, interrupting her decidedly inappropriate thoughts. “The Duke of Malvern’s house?” Her eyebrows rose.

  Ana Maria’s cheeks flushed. “Not today, although—”

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Octavia interrupted, holding her hand up. “You don’t have to, it’s all over your face.”

  “He is teaching me self-defense,” Ana Maria said. Defensively.

  “And he’s still teaching you other things, judging by your blush.” Octavia folded her arms over her chest and regarded her friend with a skeptical expression. “I want you to blush for all the right reasons. Just—be careful.”

  “Of course I will.” It was an automatic response, one borne out of always agreeing with the other person. Something she needed to stop. “But why be careful?”

  Octavia shrugged. “I’ve heard he is on the market for a bride, and I did not hear your name mentioned.”

  Ana Maria’s stomach twisted. “Let me guess—Lady Felicity?”

  Octavia nodded. “Yes—we have a betting book in the club, and right now she’s at 2–1 odds to land him.”

  “People bet on that kind of thing?” Ana Maria said, appalled.

  Octavia laughed. “People will bet on all kinds of things. Miss Ivy’s just facilitates their foolishness.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise.” Her eyes widened as she had a thought. “Is there a betting book on my marriage?”

  Octavia winced. “Uh—yes, actually.”

  “Tell me.”

  Octavia shook her head. “You do not want to know. Just let me tell you that your self-defense instructor is at very long odds.”

  Oh. So even random gamblers thought it was a long shot.

  Not that she wanted to marry him, of course, since he was so firm in his resolve not to marry her. And a host of other inarticulate annoyingly irritating reasons. But she didn’t want to seem to be not wanted.

  Because that was how she’d spent the first twenty-seven years of her life, except for Sebastian, Thaddeus, and—him.

  “Instead of waiting until your next . . . lesson,” Octavia said with a wink, clearly changing the subject, “why don’t you come here this evening when we are open so you can take a risk yourself?”

  Risks, lessons, and commands, Ana Maria thought in satisfaction as she left Miss Ivy’s clutching her fabric samples.

  She was going to do what she wanted, regardless of anyone else.

  She was not doing what she wanted.

  The afternoon was perfect—it was the rarest of days in London, temperate, sunny, with just a slight breeze.

  The horses were, as Lord Brunley had promised, attractive in their equine way. Not that Ana Maria had the slightest idea of what made for an attractive horse, but she did smile when she saw their long faces.

  She’d worn a new afternoon dress that made her especially happy—it was pale blue, the color of the sky right now, with sprigs of tiny flowers all over the skirt. She had a shawl in a complementary blue shade, and her bonnet was festooned with blue ribbons.

  If she weren’t seated next to Lord Brunley, she would be doing precisely what she wanted.

  She made a mental reminder to ask Thaddeus about purchasing a carriage suitable for her to take out on her own.

  “Did my flowers arrive?” Lord Brunley asked as he and Ana Maria nodded to the other couples currently driving in the park.

  “I’m certain they did,” Ana Maria replied. “I got an enormous delivery just the other day.” Fletchfield had curated the flowers so that the ones she liked best were in her bedroom, and the others were in the salon.

  “An enormous delivery, hm?” Lord Brunley said, sounding displeased.

  Of course. She wished she could smack herself on the head. It sounded as though she were bragging about her popularity, when really she was just reporting what had happened. Not that Lord Brunley couldn’t be taken down a notch, but it felt mean to do it deliberately.

  “I suppose some of the flowers came from the Duke of Malvern?”

  Ana Maria repressed a snort. “No, Nash isn’t the flower type.” He’d be more likely to send her boxing gloves, or perhaps a poker especially made for thwarting aggressive suitors.

  She would not mention that to Lord Brunley.

  “Ah.” Lord Brunley sounded pleased, which irked Ana Maria.

  She wished she weren’t so easily irked by him, but really, he was so smug it was impossible.

  “Speaking of the duke, there he is. With Lady Felicity, if I’m not mistaken.” Oh, now he sounded even more smug.

  And there they were. Her eyes went to him first, noting his immaculate cravat, his well-fitted jacket, and how tall he appeared in the carriage seat next to the dainty Lady Felicity.

  She was also perfectly garbed, wearing a pale yellow gown and a delightfully festive bonnet strewn with flowers that made Ana Maria both admiring and envious.

  Perfect for Lady Oxymoron.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace, my lady,” Lord Brunley said, slowing his horses.

  Nash’s lips clamped into a thin line as he saw who was greeting them, and he barely met Ana Maria’s gaze before glaring at Lord Brunley.

  “Good afternoon,” Lady Felicity called, taking the opportunity to place her hand on Nash’s arm in what Ana Maria knew was a deliberate show of ownership.

  Had he proposed already? Despite what had happened between the two of them so recently?

  Her gut churned with jealousy and worry; jealousy for obvious reasons, worry because no matter what happened between them, they were friends, and she just didn’t think he would be happy with someone like Lady Felicity.

  But perhaps that was the point? Maybe he didn’t want to be happy?

  “The day is splendid, isn’t it? I wanted to show Lady Ana Maria what my new pair could do, and I cannot imagine a better venue for it.”

  Lord Brunley even seemed to take credit for the pleasant weather. His former humility was apparently something he’d discarded in the bright light of day.

  “It is.” Nash spoke in a curt tone. He still had barely looked at her.

  That was not to be tolerated.

  “Your Grace,” she said, making his eyes snap to hers, “I wonder if you are planning to visit Miss Ivy’s soon? I understand they are making changes to the interior.”

  He looked entirely confused. Of course, since she was asking him about a gambling house and engaging
him on the topic of interior design, for goodness’ sake.

  “Miss Ivy’s,” Lord Brunley said. “That is the place that anyone can go, is it not?”

  Lady Felicity sniffed.

  “Yes,” Ana Maria replied. “It is owned by my sister-in-law, actually.”

  “Ah, I’d forgotten.” Lord Brunley gave her hand a condescending pat. The snob.

  “I have not been there,” Lady Felicity said, turning to Nash. “Perhaps you would take me sometime? I don’t always mind rubbing elbows with just anybody,” she added, with a quick glance toward Ana Maria, as if Ana Maria could possibly misconstrue the barb.

  Nash grunted in reply, making Lady Felicity preen as if he’d said yes.

  But Ana Maria could have told the lady that that particular grunt was a noncommittal “I don’t think so, but it’s not worth my time to argue” type of response.

  Lady Felicity clearly did not speak inarticulate Nash.

  “Well, we should be going. I don’t want to make my horses stand around any longer,” Lord Brunley said. He tipped his hat toward Lady Felicity. “We will see you both soon,” he added, making Ana Maria want to smack him. His words made it seem as though he and Ana Maria were a “we,” when they most certainly were not.

  And there were no pokers at the ready in a carriage. She should have brought something in case he decided to plead his case again.

  “Goodbye,” Lady Felicity said, shooting one more superior look toward Ana Maria.

  Ana Maria’s only consolation was that Nash looked as uncomfortable and miserable as she felt.

  If he married Lady Felicity, he would continue to be uncomfortable and miserable. She would have to broach that subject with him sometime, warn him about his future, since she knew neither Sebastian nor Thaddeus would think to.

  Men.

  “It’s beautiful!”

  Ana Maria stepped into Miss Ivy’s, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight. The workmen Octavia had hired had done wonders, completing the task of re-covering the walls in only a few days. Spurred on, no doubt, by Octavia’s charm and promise of extra payment if the work was done quickly.

  Octavia beamed at Ana Maria’s compliment, taking her friend’s arm and leading her toward the walls. “It looks marvelous, and it is all thanks to you.”