by Gill, Tamara
Peter started toward him and Dale schooled his features to one of polite interest. As his friend neared the young woman, he took in her appearance more. Her dark long locks were tied back into a design that Lady Lancaster also sported, but it did not compliment the young woman. Nor did the mustard-colored gown she suffered to wear since it made her look washed out and even a little ill.
“Carlton, may I introduce to you my sister, Lady Mary. Mary, this is my good friend, the Duke of Carlton.”
She bobbed a neat curtsy, and stared up at him with the widest green eyes he’d ever beheld. Her gown was of little advantage and Dale had an overwhelming urge to send her to his ex-mistresses’ modiste in London, who was one of the most sought after and finest seamstresses in the city.
Dale bowed slightly. “Lady Mary, it is a pleasure to meet you at last. Your brother has spoken of you often.”
She threw him a doubtful look but smiled. She did have a very pretty smile. “I’m sure you lie, your grace, but thank you, in any case. I shall take your charming words and believe them.”
Peter chuckled. “Mary, do not tease the duke. He will think you mean what you say.”
Her eyes skimmed him from top to toe, and Dale had the oddest sensation run through him. Her inspection wasn’t at all what he thought a young unmarried woman ought to do to a peer, and yet this country miss, an earl’s daughter no less, whom he’d never met in his life before seemed to think it appropriate.
“Perhaps I do not tease, Brother.” She grinned mischievously, and Dale found himself smiling.
He schooled his features once more. “On the contrary, my lady. Your brother has spoken highly of you and I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“And I you, your grace.” She studied him with shrewd eyes, and he met her boldness by raising his brow. “You spend most of your time in Town I assume?”
“I do,” he said, glad she’d stopped inspecting him like an insect that needed stomping on. He was sure that she did not approve his answer.
She glanced about, her disinterest in their conversation obvious. “I dislike London and I’m not looking forward to going back, but alas, as a female I have little choice. Isn’t that right, Brother?”
Peter shook his head at his sister. “Mary, let us not quarrel in front of our guests. You know I’m looking forward to having you in Town next year.”
She sighed, plucking a glass of wine from a passing footman and taking a sip. “I should imagine you love the Season, your grace? Enjoy the nights out about Town, the horse rides in the park among other things.”
Dale clamped his mouth shut. Other things… what on earth did that mean? Did she allude to the many gambling hells he attended, nights at Vauxhall or the many women who sought his companionship? He glanced down at her, her fierce green eyes full of mirth stared back without a by-your-leave.
He marveled at her boldness. “I do enjoy all the delicacies that Town affords. So many entertainments to appreciate, it is like one big feast that I cannot get enough of.”
Mary’s cheeks turned a delightful shade of rose, and he grinned.
Peter cleared his throat. “I see Miss Grant has arrived, Mary.”
She glanced behind her and bobbing a quick curtsy excused herself, leaving Dale to watch after her as she joined the woman who looked a similar age to her by the window.
“Is your sister out, Peter?” he asked, watching her still. Now with her friend, Lady Mary seemed to brighten even more when having a conversation with someone she liked.
“She had her coming out five years ago, but nothing came of it or any subsequent Seasons. Our parents are hoping to gain her a match with the forthcoming Season, much to Mary’s distaste.”
Dale raised his brow, taking a sip of his wine. “Oh, she does not wish for marriage?” It wasn’t often any young woman of Lady Mary’s age would not want such a thing. Certainly, Dale had never met such a woman before in his life, and he had five years on Mary if he correctly estimated her age.
“How old is your sister?” Dale asked, unable to tear his eyes from her as she moved about the room. The idea that he found the Lady Mary interesting enough to do such a thing pulled him up short and he shifted his gaze from her.
Peter’s eyes met his over the top of his wine glass and the steely edge to his friend’s gaze gave him pause. “Why so much interest in Mary?”
Dale raised one hand. “I was merely making conversation. I’m not interested in your sister as anything other than a friend. I did not see her in Town last year and was merely curious as to her age.” And part of what he said was indeed true, he was curious about the woman who seemed to have a voice, despite that her gown stated otherwise, and she was without fear of him. Being a duke there were few who could boast such a thing. Other than his friend Peter that is.
“Mary has just turned three and twenty.” Peter glanced about the room. “Lady Hectorville is here, I see. That should make you happy, Carlton.”
Dale fought not to cringe at the mention of the late earl’s wife. “Not particularly. I had one liaison with the woman, when I was in my cups and she was hiding her appearance at the time and I did not know it was her.”
“Much to her despair. Look, my friend, she is observing you and seems quite forlorn that you have not said hello.”
His friend laughed and Dale threw him a quelling glance. “That night was a mistake and one I shall not make again. I have apologized to her, even though she did not want to hear it, but either way, what is done is done and she’s since moved on with another of our set.”
“Maybe you ought to tell her that she needs to move on from you, because from where I stand it certainly does not seem that way.”
Dale looked to where Peter had glanced and he ground his teeth. Damn it, he’d never thought her ladyship would be here of all places. How was it that the woman was even invited? She stood beside Lady Lancaster and her determined interest in Dale must be obvious to any who bothered to notice.
“How is your family acquainted with Lady Hectorville?”
“She is one of my mother’s closest friends. They have known each other for many years, even though there is a fifteen-year age gap between them. When they’re together you would not know that was the case.”
Fabulous, that was all Dale needed. A meddling Lady Hectorville who sometimes still sent him love notes begging for him to call, or Peter’s mother who undoubtedly knew he’d tumbled one of her closest friends. He cringed.
“So, my friend, what are we going to do now that I have you up here in Derbyshire. We may go riding tomorrow if you like. There are some very fine locations to visit about the property, and I wish to show you the hunting lodge. Could be a thought to bring up a group of friends in the summer and make use of it. What say you?”
Dale lifted his wine glass in mock salute. “I think that sounds like a wonderful idea on both counts. Shall we say we’ll meet at the stables at nine in the morning to scout it out?”
Peter clinked his glass against Dale’s. “I shall see you then.”
Chapter 3
The following afternoon Mary took the air outside, determined to be outdoors every day no matter the weather. Her mind wandered from thought to thought, or if more truthful, one thought that is. The duke.
Mary wasn’t sure what to make of her brother’s friend. Of course she’d heard he was a duke well before his arrival at their estate. Peter seemed to get along with him very well, even though the man was a much sought-after gentleman in Town and held a lot of sway within the House of Lords. If her mother’s unending information about the duke was to be believed. But there was something about the fellow that gave her pause, a niggling annoyance that she could not place. Something that had troubled her the moment his steely eyes and unflinching inspection of her occurred in the drawing room last evening.
Her friend and companion, Louise, came up beside her as they walked about the grounds; bundled up in fur coats they both appeared three sizes larger than they were. But, wh
en there was snow underfoot and one was stuck indoors, such clothing had to be worn, no matter how bulky. No-one wished to be stuck inside all the time.
“It’s so cold, Mary. Can we return indoors now?” Her friend pulled her coat closed further and Mary smiled. Louise had always preferred the warmer months and hated any season other than spring or summer.
“We’ll just finish going around the house and then we’ll go back inside. It’s so refreshing though, don’t you think, to be outdoors? With Peter home with his friend, and Mama with her guests, inside is becoming a little crowded.”
Louise’s eyes glistened with amusement. “What do you think of the duke? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more handsome fellow in all my life.”
“Well, our life has been cosseted here most of the time in Derbyshire. I’m sure when we return to London next year, Town life will offer you more diversion and interest than the Duke of Carlton. It’s simply we’ve been out in the country so long and only ever meet the same people. Anything new and shiny always sparkles brighter.”
Her friend snorted. “Are you being sarcastic, dear Mary? I don’t think there are many who would not continually be distracted by such a man.”
Mary conceded the point. The duke was exceedingly handsome, with his dark locks that had a slight waviness and curl to them. His straight nose and cheekbones made his profile devastatingly lovely and made her stomach flutter each time she chanced a look at him.
Her body was becoming a traitor to her. She didn’t want to feel anything other than bored amusement that he was present. Mary certainly didn’t want images and thoughts bombarding her mind as to what he might be like to kiss. Was he so very wicked as all the gossips had painted him these past days? There was a rumor that he’d once bedded Lady Hectorville, and if her ladyship’s glances toward the duke when she assumed no one was looking were anything to go by, Mary certainly could believe that tidbit of information as fact.
“Very well, I shall agree with you on that, but even so, he is just a man who’ll eventually marry a woman to warm his bed and fill his nursery with heirs for his great title. Whomever the duke marries it’ll be a monetary and status alliance, not a love match.”
“And to be a power in the ton. A duchess that all other women strive to imitate, do not forget,” Louise added.
Mary stumbled to a halt. Louise gasped as the duke, whom they’d not seen sitting on the steps of the terrace stood, and bowed before them.
Heat bloomed on Mary’s cheeks and her stomach did that stupid little fluttering again. She glared at him. What was wrong with her?
She cleared her throat, clasping her hands tight within her fur muff. “Your grace, we did not see you there.”
One ducal eyebrow rose in agreement. “No, you did not. I can only assume that had you known I was sitting here you wouldn’t have said such things about my character.”
Mary chanced a glance at Louise and sighed at her friend’s abject horror of them being caught. If her friend’s eyes went any wider her eyeballs would pop out.
She smiled the sweetest smile she could muster for someone who was obviously used to no one talking about him at all. Certainly not to his face. “You would be mistaken, your grace. I never shy away from what I believe in or think. If I have an opinion on a subject or person, whatever it may be, you can always be assured I’ll speak the truth.”
His too-intelligent eyes inspected her, and Mary shivered. How was it that his mere gaze could make her react so? She fought not to roll her eyes at her own idiocy. Maybe a trip to Town for another Season wasn’t such a bad idea after all. This shivering and fluttering whenever she was about the duke would never do. If she had to marry as her parents ordained, then it would be to a man she respected and loved, not to mention a man who allowed her to carry on with all the hobbies she currently enjoyed. She eyed the duke. What kind of man are you?
“Perhaps it’s the spectacles that make you so forward with your opinion.” The duke reached out and slid them off her face. His buckskin-gloved fingers touched her temples and she gasped at his presumption.
“Excuse me, your grace, but just what do you think you’re doing?”
She looked up at him, and although she could see perfectly well without glasses, they did help her see objects that were at a distance.
He stared at her for the oddest time before he said, “just seeing what you look like behind your spectacles.”
“And do you always do what you want, your grace?” Mary asked, suspecting that he did. The man oozed authority and she doubted there wasn’t much that he did not get his way with.
“Always,” he said, before turning on his heel and striding toward the terrace doors.
“Well, how odd,” Mary said. Louise sighed, a dreamy expression on her face as she watched the duke head back indoors. He closed the terrace doors with a decided click, leaving them alone once again.
Louise caught Mary’s gaze. “He still has your spectacles.”
After his odd departure Mary had completely forgotten the fact that he’d walked off with her spectacles. She ground her teeth, not wanting to seek him out to get them back again. She huffed out an annoyed breath, supposing she would have to. And after that, it was probably best that she did not seek him out again while he was here. Her body needed to learn that the Duke of Carlton, no matter his attractiveness, was not for her. She had a Season to find a gentleman who would suit her and she would not allow a pretty face to steer her off-course.
Dale shut the terrace doors and leaned against the wooden frame a moment. Feeling something in his hand he looked down and cursed. What the devil was he still doing with Lady Mary’s spectacles? And why in hell had he taken them off of her in the first place?
The moment he’d seen her glance up at him, her eyes wide and clear and the prettiest green he’d ever beheld he knew he was in trouble. He didn’t need to think her eyes pretty, or anything about her appealing. She was his best friend’s sister. A woman who spoke her mind without restraint and obviously was so very used to doing as she pleased. She was certainly not duchess material. Not the type of obedient and placid woman he was looking for.
His mother had been opinionated, often arguing differences of opinion with his father. He didn’t want a wife with similar characteristics. He wanted only peace in his marriage, something that he never enjoyed as a child.
Her rebuttal that she would only ever speak the truth whether the person was present or not was proof of that. Even if the ton was full of lies and deceit, her frankness was not a character trait he wanted in a wife. There were plenty of gentlemen who did not care if their wives were opinionated. Dale was not one of them.
That she’d not shied away from his sometimes overbearing self, had been welcome however. But then his friend Peter had never been scared off by his title either, and it was one of the reasons they were friends. He could tell Peter anything and know he would give him the absolute truth in his opinions.
Not just agree with him all the time simply because he was a duke.
Lady Hectorville sidled next to him and placed her arm around his own. He smiled down at her out of politeness while swearing inwardly at her affront. “Lady Hectorville, are you enjoying the gathering here in Derbyshire?” The question was benign, and he hoped soon enough she would find more amusing sports. Her reported lover was present so why she was hanging off his arm was beyond him.
“Oh, indeed I am. Lord and Lady Lancaster have been the most wonderful hosts these past few days and I’m looking very much toward the coming month here, and Christmas of course. Are you staying for the festivities, the Mistletoe Ball, your grace?”
He had thought of staying, but with her ladyship’s presence the entire time, maybe Dale would have to rethink his decision. “My obligations are not fixed on any one place in particular. I did say I would stay for a time, but I’m unsure if that will incorporate Christmas.”
Lady Hectorville pouted and he turned his attention to the few guests that were taking te
a in the parlor. “And your sister, Lady Georgianna? Where is she to spend Christmas this year?”
Dale smiled at the mention of his sibling. He missed the chit and hoped she would be home soon. “She’s spending Christmas in Spain with our aunt who’s traveling abroad. She’ll return to Town in the spring.”
“Oh, Spain. How diverting. The warm Spanish sun, the hot nights and even hotter days. Sounds positively divine,” she cooed up at him.
He nodded, not entirely sure that the direction in which her ladyship spoke didn’t have an altogether different meaning to that of the weather. The terrace doors behind him opened and Lady Mary and her friend, Miss Grant, entered the room. Dale watched their progress as they joined Peter near the pianoforte.
Her ladyship lent out a long-suffering sigh. “Poor Lady Mary, I do worry for her. She’s so very bookish and the spectacles she’s often sporting do nothing to improve her appearance. I worry that she’ll remain a spinster, be placed up on the shelf to collect dust like an unwanted ornament.”
Dale bit his tongue in reminding Lady Hectorville that to speak about someone in such a manner was not befitting of her ladyship’s status. He thanked a footman for a glass of wine and took a fortifying sip to cool his ire. “Really? Do enlighten me?” he asked, his curiosity to see just how far her ladyship was willing to go further to cast doubt on Mary who was the daughter of a supposedly close friend of hers.
“Well, she does not draw or paint or take any time in needlework from all accounts. Instead she’s a dab hand at fishing. Fishing! Of all things and is a better shot than her brother from what Lady Lancaster tells me. The young woman will never make a match with such qualities.”
Stranger and stranger. Dale’s attention strayed to where Lady Mary stood and he took in her gown, her features and demeanor. She was quite animated and loud, but then she was in her own home and among friends, so one did tend to let their guard down.