He spun around. “If I were to marry one of these heiresses, you would not have to seek another lady to chaperone. You would have an allowance. I would see after your needs, and with a generous settlement, I would be in a position to offer a dowry and find you a husband. Do you not see that we are in the ideal position to help each other?”
“You are asking me to compromise my integrity.”
“You owe these ladies nothing!”
“Have you never made a promise?”
“Of course, I’ve made promises.”
“Did you keep them?”
She could see in his startled eyes that he’d recognized the trap she’d set. She loved him dearly, but sometimes he clearly underestimated the cleverness of women.
“Did you?” she prodded.
“Yes,” he finally admitted reluctantly.
“Why?”
“Because it was the honorable thing to do.”
“Do you expect less of me?”
“I suppose not.” He was clearly disgruntled with the truth, but at least his temper had waned. “Still, I think you have vastly underrated us as possible matches for your ladies.”
She smiled benignly. “You perhaps. But not Falconridge. And certainly not Hawkhurst.”
Without a doubt Hawkhurst was the worst of the lot. Her brother had gotten into no mischief whatsoever before that one had come into his life.
“We enjoy having a jolly good time. I don’t see that as a fault.”
“Drinking, carousing, and getting into mischief until dawn…the very fact you don’t see these behaviors as a fault is what makes you so very unsuitable.”
“Rather convoluted thinking there, Louisa.”
“Not from where I stand. I wish I could recommend you, I truly do, but I simply can’t.”
“But you won’t speak unfavorably about us?”
“Did I not say exactly that earlier?”
“Yes, but you are a woman, and women are fickle.”
“You have such a poor opinion of women, it is a wonder you are seeking to find a wife.”
“It is my obligation to do so.”
“Yet one more reason why you would not be suitable.”
He laughed boisterously. “Do you honestly believe any man wants to get married?”
“I would think so, yes.”
“Trust me, dear sister, when I tell you that no man desires marriage.”
Louisa had always thought moving out of the home in which she’d been born and raised would come about only when she was moving into the home of the man she’d married. It was a strange experience indeed to stand in a bedchamber that was not hers and to try to envision it as hers—temporarily to be sure—but for several weeks, perhaps months. Perhaps years!
She had stayed at the country estate of friends, but never for more than a few days. She had been a visitor, a welcomed guest.
Within this household, she was something else entirely. Certainly not family. Not quite a servant. Not a friend.
With a sigh she sat on the bed, on the unfamiliar comforter. She was a chaperone, and this was now her home. In time, she would move on to another. Like a gypsy. With no one place to call her own.
She’d known she’d pay this price when she’d made her decision to place her advert. It was silly to be melancholy because her endeavor had resulted in success.
She watched as her personal maid, Colette, assigned to her by Mrs. Rose, transferred her things from her trunks to her wardrobe. She’d brought all her clothing and feared much of it might be too fancy for one in her recently acquired position. She should blend into the woodwork. During her previous Seasons, her own chaperone, a married cousin, had been exceedingly discreet, and Louisa planned to follow her example. To draw no attention to herself but to be very attentive of her charges and any gentlemen who gave them notice.
When she was finished, Colette had a footman carry the trunks away, then she left with the promise to return to help Louisa prepare for dinner. That was a promising sign. At least Mrs. Rose didn’t expect her to eat in the kitchen with the servants.
With a sigh, Louisa got up, walked to the window, and looked out on the street. She was not the lady of the house. She didn’t have to see to the meals or discuss daily menus with the cook. It was rather unsettling to be free and yet fettered. What in the world was she to do with her time?
She needed to arrange a social calendar, and in order to do that, she needed to review the invitations that the ladies had received. She also needed to make a list of necessary introductions.
The responsibilities suddenly overwhelmed her, because the truth was that beneath each task was the burden of finding the proper husband for these ladies. Yet how did one know who the proper husband was?
A soft rap on the door had her turning away from the window and her thoughts. Before she could bid entry, the door opened, and Jenny slipped her head inside and smiled brightly. “Are you all settled?”
“For now.”
“Care for some company?”
“I’d love some company.”
“Wonderful.” She marched into the room, dragging Kate, who was holding a book, along behind her. “We thought we could discuss our expectations.”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Louisa said.
“She thought we could discuss our expectations,” Kate said, jerking her head toward her sister. “I can’t see that any discussion is going to make any difference at all.”
“I brought the invitations,” Jenny said, handing a small bundle to Louisa.
“Lovely. I was just thinking that I needed to see where you stood among”—how to phrase it politely—“those issuing invitations.”
“Don’t worry,” Kate said. “We get only the finest. Bertie was quite taken with Jenny.”
“The Prince of Wales has acknowledged you?”
Jenny shrugged. “He smiled at me. We had a single dance. Nothing more than that really.”
“Your mother must have been delighted.”
“An understatement,” Kate said. “Judging by her reaction, you would have thought she expected Jenny to become a princess. Unfortunately for you, that’s when she got the notion to hire a social chaperone.”
“Actually, I’m quite pleased that she did,” Louisa said.
Jenny sat on the bed. “Now, tell us about you.”
Kate took a seat in a nearby chair, surprising Louisa by not opening her book and burying her nose in it.
“There’s really not much to say,” Louisa said, sitting in a chair and beginning to sift through the invitations. She had to admit to being quite impressed. They were being invited to soirees hosted by the upper crust.
“Have you ever been in love?” Kate asked.
“No.” Louisa did not look up.
“Have you ever known passion?” Jenny asked.
Louisa looked up then. “I don’t mean to be rude, but truly, you girls need to broaden your horizons. Your topics of conversation seem to be terribly narrow. Tell me what you like to do.”
“I like to read,” Kate said.
“What a revelation!” Jenny exclaimed, with a roll of her eyes. “She never would have guessed that.”
“What do you like to read?” Louisa asked, ignoring Jenny’s sarcasm.
“Romantic stories.”
“What else do you like?” Louisa asked, encouraged, feeling at long last that she might be making progress.
“Chocolate. Which is the reason I’m more round than Jenny. I like to eat chocolate while reading.”
“And she does an inordinate amount of reading,” Jenny said.
“I’m not certain it’s possible to read too much,” Louisa said.
“She never goes anywhere without a book in hand.”
“Because I’m easily bored by your company,” Kate said. “I must have something to keep me entertained.”
“Ladies, I believe we’ve once again strayed from our topic,” Louisa said, before more insults could be delivered. “You were to t
ell me what you enjoy doing.”
“I prefer being outdoors,” Jenny said. “I love riding horses and bicycles.”
“Bicycles?” Louisa asked. “Aren’t they rather unsteady?”
“The high wheeler, yes. I tried that once and took a topple. Have a little scar right above my brow,” she said, pointing. “The high-wheeled tricycle is safer, and I’ve tried it, but I don’t really enjoy safe. Do you?”
“Of course, I enjoy being safe.”
“But safe is boring,” Jenny said, shifting around on the bed until she was lying on her stomach, her chin resting on her hands. “I like excitement.”
“So you want a husband who is exciting,” Louisa said, striving to narrow the girl’s wants down.
“Most assuredly. Handsome, as we’ve already established. And a fine kisser. Which of the lords have you experienced?”
Louisa felt as though she’d just swallowed the sun, and the heat was radiating out of her body. “I beg your pardon?”
“Which of the lords have you kissed?”
Slowly she shook her head in disbelief. “I’ve not kissed any.”
“Not any?” Kate asked, sounding as shocked as Jenny appeared.
“No, it’s improper to kiss…at least until you are engaged.”
“But how will you know if you like his kiss?” Jenny asked. “What if he’s…slobbery, like a dog?”
“Well, I…I hadn’t given any thought to that.”
Jenny swung her legs around and sat up. “I’d heard you English girls didn’t kiss, but I hadn’t really given any credence to it.”
“We kiss,” Louisa said defensively. “I’ve been kissed on the hand, and once a gentleman kissed me on the cheek.”
Jenny covered her mouth. “Oh, my dear Lord, how scandalous! On the cheek? Left or right?”
Louisa thought back. “Left.”
“Thank God. If it had been your right, you might have had to marry him. A kiss on the right is much more scandalous.”
“Leave her be, Jenny,” Kate said. “In truth you give your kisses away much too freely.”
“I like kissing,” Jenny said. She gave her attention to Louisa. “We don’t have chaperones in America. We are a bit more free to experience passion.”
“But you are not in America now, and you must respect our traditions,” Louisa said. “You are seeking to entice a lord into marriage. You must be proper at all times lest you lose his esteem for you.”
“He won’t like me if I allow him to kiss me?”
Louisa sighed. “He would not favor a woman who was easy to entice…into misconduct.”
“Then I ask again. How will I know if I will favor his kiss if I do not experience his kiss?”
“Is his kiss so important?”
“Most assuredly. Don’t you agree, Kate?”
“It’s not often that I agree with Jenny, but on this matter, I must admit, she is right.”
“Would you not marry a man because you didn’t like his kiss?” Louisa asked.
“Now, that I do not know,” Kate said. “It would depend on whether or not he loved me, I suppose.”
Suddenly Louisa felt terribly naïve, young, and unsophisticated next to these ladies. She’d mistakenly thought they were the innocent ones. “So if you won’t make your decision based on his kiss, why is it so important that you experience his kiss?”
“Because it might be a factor.”
“Handsome and a good kisser,” Jenny said. “So let’s move on to the next requirement, which is large hands.”
Louisa glowered at her. “You are making sport of me.”
“No, not at all. Although in truth, I’ve never had a man touch me intimately, but when I think of him doing so, I think of large, strong hands, hands capable of delivering passion.”
Louisa cleared her throat. “I think we need to concentrate on something a bit more measurable from a distance.”
“Such as?”
“His sense of humor, his wit, his ability to converse on interesting topics—”
“Where is the passion in all of that?” Jenny asked.
“Passion is not simply physical,” Louisa said. “It is the way a man looks at his estate and sees the generations that have come before him. It is his appreciation of Shakespeare. It is his standing by his obligations. It is his courteous nature. His respect for his elders. So much can be determined from a distance.”
Jenny sighed. “You’re not going to let me slip away to kiss a man, are you?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Our gentlemen require very proper behavior in the ladies they are considering to marry, and I must ensure them that you are as suitable for them as they are for you. I’m beginning to think I must give you an appreciation for our heritage.”
“I don’t want lessons,” Jenny said. “I’ve had far too many lessons.” She pointed to the invitations in Louisa’s lap. “So which balls should we attend?”
Louisa began sorting through the invitations again, wondering if she had not set an impossible task for herself.
Chapter 4
The very thought of marriage sent a chill skittering down his spine, but Hawk knew he had reached the point in his life where he no longer had a choice. At four-and-thirty—as his mother constantly reminded him—he wasn’t getting any younger. He had a duty to provide a legitimate heir, and he was also obligated to arrange some sort of financial security for those to whom he was responsible. An American heiress would provide him adequately with both.
While the Rose sisters weren’t the only heiresses in London this Season, Lady Louisa had tossed down a gauntlet, whether intentional or not. He had decided he would marry one of them by God, simply because Lady Louisa was so determined that he wouldn’t.
He did love to embrace a challenge.
Standing unobserved near the glass-paned door that led to the terrace, Hawk had watched Lady Louisa elegantly circling the room, introducing her charges to a number of gentlemen of her choosing, men she no doubt considered suitable. Boring and unadventuresome. A pity none of those staid, proper, and well-behaved gentlemen had taken her to wife. Then he would not have to deal with her high idealism now.
The first ball was without a doubt quite important. The impression the ladies made would have an impact on the remainder of their Season. From his observations, he’d managed to deduce that both ladies were exceedingly lovely, graceful, and poised.
But then what American heiress wasn’t?
They had money at their disposal, and money was power. Of course, so was a title. Mix the two, and he would be unconquerable. He would be able to do anything he damned well pleased where he damned well pleased when he damned well pleased. Life would be what it hadn’t been in a good long while: enjoyable. His burdens would be lifted, his responsibilities would be easier to bear.
He’d spent considerable time plotting the strategy that would result in his achieving his goal of marrying one of the Rose sisters. All that remained was for him to put his plan into action.
The music for the quadrille eased into silence. He watched as each Rose sister in turn was escorted back to her chaperone. He waited while gentlemen approached, Lady Louisa gave her charges into their protection, and the ladies were escorted back to the dance floor. It was time for Hawk to make his move.
He enjoyed nothing more than he enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.
She was aware of his approach long before he came into her field of vision. She felt his gaze, his attention focused on her as though he had sighted his prey. She didn’t know where that thought had come from. She knew only that it was the way she felt.
She shifted her gaze slightly and could clearly see him striding lithely toward her, something predatory about his movements. He was a civilized man who suddenly appeared quite uncivilized. He was so incredibly dark, not only in his looks but in his manner. The name his intimates used when referring to him—Hawk—seemed quite appropriate. She’d never referred to him as such, would never take it upon herself to be that i
nformal with him.
She could fully understand the reason he’d gained a reputation for being a man with whom ladies’ hearts were far from safe. As he came to stand before her, he suddenly appeared to be quite dangerous.
His eyes darkened, his mouth curved up into a slow, sensual smile. She’d never before noticed a man’s lips. How soft they looked, how inviting. She was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, as though invisible fingers were slowly tightening the laces on her corset.
“Lady Louisa,” he said with a sultry purr that closely resembled the low growl she’d once heard a lion emit during one of her visits to the zoological gardens. “May I have the honor of this dance?”
Her cheeks warmed, and she wondered if her flush was visible. “Your Grace, as I’m sure you are well aware, I’m in attendance this eve as a chaperone, not an invited guest.” Initially an embarrassing predicament as acquaintances greeted her and began to comprehend her role. She had effectively taken herself off the marriage market and suffered through looks of pity from those with whom she’d once shared the dream of marriage. They had acquired the dream, while she was left with nothing but a nightmare. But the damage was done, the rumors would spread, and she was certain making an appearance at the next ball would be much easier, and by Season’s end all would forget she’d once had hopes of marriage and family.
“I daresay you’ve done a remarkable job in seeing that your charges are otherwise occupied, in no need of your services at this moment. I can see no harm in your taking a turn about the dance floor as well.”
How she longed to accept his invitation, to be whirled across the polished floor as though she hadn’t a care in the world. But she couldn’t help but wonder: Why now? Why ask me to dance now when you have never before asked?
“It would not be appropriate,” she insisted, striving to convince herself as well as him. What would it hurt for two minutes, three at the most, to simply enjoy the evening and the attentions of a man?
“I can think of nothing more appropriate than to dance with a lovely lady.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you up to, Your Grace?”
Duke of Her Own, A Page 4