Not Even For a Duke

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Not Even For a Duke Page 23

by A. S. Fenichel


  Rising they left the club under the watchful gaze of many members. Rhys had made a scene and it would lead to speculation.

  The carriages pulled forward and Rhys huffed out a long breath. “Tell me this, Garrett. The information you now conceal, would you have ever divulged it if I hadn’t just made a scene in public?”

  “Of course. If Potsum offered for Aurora, I would have gone to her with the information.” A sudden realization that Aurora might not have believed him at that late date gnawed at him.

  Still, the admission caused Rhys’s expression to ease. He instructed his driver to follow to Garrett’s townhouse and climbed into Garrett’s carriage.

  “Shall I tell you now or do we wait until we’re at my home?” He’d started investigating Potsum the morning after the dinner party. Something about the man didn’t sit right.

  Rhys’s eyes flashed in the carriage’s lamplight. “Tell me everything and tell me now. If you think for one moment I will allow my sister to enter into another disastrous marriage, you don’t know me at all.”

  Shame washed over Garrett. Of course, his friend suffered over what had happened to Aurora. He’d been a fool not to see it. “At the Castlewick dinner party I overheard Potsum lamenting his need to keep his aunt and cousin housed and fed. He even mentioned paying for his cousin’s clothes for the season so she might find a husband. It seemed odd to me that a Marquess should worry over what was not only his duty, but a very small expense.”

  Sitting back, Rhys scowled. “I heard him talking about it too. After dinner when the men joined the ladies for cake, he was telling Mercy’s aunt how he hoped his cousin would marry and take one more responsibility off his plate.”

  “I doubt there was a person at the event that didn’t hear some story about his troubles.” Garrett attempted calm but was sure a sneer donned his lips.

  “Honestly, I didn’t give the matter much thought. He’s such a dullard, I didn’t think Aurora would actually allow any type of courtship.”

  The carriage rounded a corner and Garrett noted they were getting close to his home. “Perhaps the rest can wait for a warm fire and good wine.”

  One could practically see the wheels turning inside Rhys’s head as he considered a man who looks for sympathy, when taking care of his family is his duty; if not by law, then by honor.

  The carriage stopped and neither waited for the driver to pull down the step. They jumped down and climbed the stairs where Casper, Garrett’s aging butler opened the door. “Your Grace, you are home early.”

  Garrett handed over his hat. “Casper, can you pull a bottle of the 1790 Madeira for us? Lord Marsden and I have some business to discuss in my study.”

  Taking all the outerwear, Casper gave a nod. “Of course, Your Grace.”

  Once inside the warm study with a good fire burning and wall to wall books of every kind, Garrett felt more himself. This was his place. He’d taken over this townhouse long before his father passed as his parents rarely came to town. The tall shelves were packed with books he shipped from all over the world, and he relished the memories he’d made finding each and every one.

  Rhys scanned the shelves. “Quite a collection.”

  “It’s a bit of a hobby I picked up on my journey around the continent. I think the staff was happy to have me home just so they wouldn’t have to sort through any more shipments of books.” Garrett lit a taper from the fire and, with it set several other candles aflame in the candelabra on the table. On either side of the table two high backed, royal-blue chairs sat near the hearth. He sat and offered Rhys the other chair.

  “Before you tell me about Potsum, will you tell me something else?” Rhys shifted in the chair as if the topic had gone from maddening to uncomfortable.

  “I will try.” It was the best he could offer before hearing what the question was. He’d not betray Aurora. Not even to her brother, and Rhys’s discomfort gave Garrett a foreboding feeling. Could her brother know he’d been intimate with Aurora?

  Rhys looked everywhere but at Garrett for over a minute. Then he met Garrett’s gaze. “I know it’s a secret you keep, and I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but you’ve been in love with Rora most of our lives, man. Why don’t you offer for her?”

  Relief and panic in equal doses washed over Garrett. Had he been so obvious? He supposed so. He swallowed several times before he was able to speak, and even then, he wished Casper would arrive with the damned Madeira. “I did. She was not receptive to the idea.”

  “Damn.” Rhys’s shoulders slumped and he hung his head. “I’m sorry, Garrett. I know she feels for you.”

  Casper opened the door and brought a decanter of deep red wine with him. He placed the wine on the table between them, went to the cart near the window and procured two cut-crystal glasses and brought them to the table.

  “I shall pour, Casper. Thank you.” Garret’s voice was sterner than he’d intended.

  Casper raised one gray brow. “As you wish. If you have no further need of me.” He bowed and left the study.

  Taking up the crystal, Garrett poured two glasses. His heart broke every time he thought of Aurora’s refusal to marry him. Lifting his glass, he sipped the rich wine. He certainly didn’t want to relive the experience with Rhys. “After the dinner party, I looked into the status of the dowager Marchioness of Potsum and her daughter. I also looked into the activities and mother of the current marquess.”

  Rhys held his glass but didn’t drink. “What did you find?”

  “It’s very good wine, Rhys. Don’t let it go to waste.” He was stalling. Gossip was not something he often indulged in, but he thought Aurora would more likely listen to her brother on this subject then she would him. And she should not accept any offer from Potsum.

  “I’ll drink, you talk.” Rhys sipped the wine.

  “His aunt and cousin are living in squalor in a small cottage near Plymouth. His uncle gave provisions for them, but Potsum has contrived a way to keep that money to himself. In the year since he’s been marquess, he’s spent a great deal on schemes that have not gone well. He’s used his cousin’s dowry, leaving her with nothing but her charms to offer. He is paying for one season of clothes. I have that from the modiste, but she is yet to be paid. His mother has not been seen in over a year, and I have sent out a letter to the country estate in the lake district to find out if she’s even still alive. I’ll give him credit for keeping all this quiet while pretending to be the savior of all. He’s deeply in debt and needs to marry someone with available cash.” Garrett hesitated to tell the rest.

  “And…” Rhys prompted. His friend knew him too well.

  Garrett sighed. “And I went to his club and listened to some talk where it was implied that he had every intention of, and I quote, “selling the ridiculous school of hers as his first act as her lord and master.”

  “He didn’t actually say lord and master?” Rhys’s eyes were wide, and his mouth pulled in a tight line.

  “Those were the words I heard just last night. I’ve been vacillating on what to tell Rora, but this will be better. She needs to know, but will accept the information better coming from you.” A weight lifted from Garrett. It didn’t ease his pain, but perhaps his worry.

  “He plays at being so mild and at ease. I would never think him acting a part the entire time.” Rhys set aside his half-empty glass.

  Garrett filled it. “He does a good job, and according to the modiste has threatened his cousin and aunt with homelessness if they so much as say one word about his financial state.”

  “They told the modiste?” Rhys stated the obvious.

  Garrett grinned. “Madam Bouchard is a good listener and a very sympathetic ear.”

  “I see. She wheedled it out of them.”

  “It would seem so,” Garrett confirmed.

  Rhys stood and paced. “So, he needs Rora’s money. How far will he go to get it? Do we have another Hexon on our hands?”

  A knot formed deep in Garrett’s gut. “S
omehow, I think Potsum might be worse. We could see on the surface what Hexon was; a drunk, a man of low regard for women, a bigot to be sure. Potsum strikes me as more dangerous. He is very adept at hiding what he is. He fooled us at the dinner party, and he certainly fooled Aurora into believing in his altruism toward his family. After his bad behavior at dinner, that can be the only reason she’s still considering him.”

  “I will speak to her.” Rhys sat and drank his wine.

  Awash with relief, Garrett refilled his own glass.

  Garrett had considered not going to the Dunworth Ball. Lady Dunworth was the sister of Nicholas Ellsworth, and Garrett felt compelled to attend. Part of him couldn’t resist a night where he would see and perhaps speak to Aurora. It was foolish self-torture, but he couldn’t resist.

  His internal debate had lasted long enough that he was now quite late in arriving at the elegant townhouse of the Earl and Countess of Dunworth. It was just as well, as sneaking in late allowed him to avoid the curious gazes of the ton.

  Aurora was like a beacon in a deep blue gown that spoke of the sea and sky. The flowing material clung to her curves as she spoke animatedly to her friends. Her golden hair was woven with pearls and sapphires allowing him a delicious view of her neck with just a few curls laying along her shoulders.

  Swallowing his desire, he plastered on the disinterested expression of a duke and crossed the ballroom. Before he reached the object of his desire, Prudence Harcourt waved shyly from the edge of the dance floor where she stood alone.

  Garrett smiled. “How do you do, my lady?”

  “I am well, Your Grace. This is quite a crush.” She referred to the crowded ballroom.

  “Elaine Trent rarely comes to town let alone does she throw a ball. Society is clamoring to get in.” Garrett noted Prudence’s pale blue gown woven with silver thread. It suited the shy widow and her slight figure.

  “I suppose that is true.”

  Garrett offered his arm. “I was just going over to speak with our mutual friends, if you’d care to join me, Lady Harcourt.”

  She took his arm. “I would like that very much. I admit to being a bit out of place in such a large crowd. My mother is in the music room with a group of dowagers. I know I’d be welcome, but I feel even more awkward with them. It seemed easier to get lost in the crowd.”

  Patting her hand, he sympathized with Prudence. “You look very lovely this evening and should be confident to roam about the ball.”

  A warm blush flushed up her pretty face making her even prettier. Several men looked on as they journeyed across the room. There was nothing more attractive to the shallow men of the ton than a woman who was sought after by a duke.

  Ridiculous.

  “Garrett! We thought you’d decided not to come,” Poppy said.

  “I was late in dressing this evening.” It was the truth at least in part.

  Aurora’s cheeks paled. “Lady Harcourt, you look beautiful. How good to see you again.”

  Prudence leaned in and whispered. “I think I shall have to beg the duke to walk with me more often. I would swear I had more attention just now crossing the room than I did during the entire two seasons before I married.”

  The group laughed at her jest and Garrett couldn’t help being impressed that she’d not only noticed the attention, but the cause. Not that she wasn’t very attractive, but it took more than a pretty face to impress society.

  To that point, Decklan Garrott arrived as the first strains of music began. “Lady Harcourt, if you are not otherwise engaged, may I have the honor of this dance?”

  Prudence smiled and wagged her brows at the group before she turned her attention to Decklan. “I would be delighted, sir.”

  “She could do better,” Poppy mused.

  Mercy shrugged. “He’s a good sort and has a decent living now. She could do worse.”

  Wesley laughed. “It’s only a dance, ladies. Let’s not marry the poor woman off just yet.”

  Garrett had promised himself he’d keep his distance, but the waltz was playing as he’d missed the first set with his tardiness. Garrett leaned in and breathed her fresh, warm scent. “Rora, will you dance with me?”

  Without looking at him, she nodded and took his arm.

  He took her hand in his, framed her back with his other arm, waited a beat and joined them in the swirl of dancers. “I hope you don’t mind my asking.”

  Looking up, her gaze was watery before she lowered her chin and wouldn’t meet his stare. “No. Never that. I thought perhaps you would ask Prudence, but I suppose Decklan was faster.”

  “Look at me, Rora.” His heart tore in half when she complied. So much emotion raged in her, but he had little reference to sort it out. It was so rare to see any emotion displayed by Aurora. “If I’d wanted to dance with Lady Harcourt, I would have asked her when I escorted her across the room. I hadn’t planned to dance at all, but then you were there. I find it hard to resist an opportunity to hold you in my arms.”

  “You shouldn’t say such things.” She drew a ragged breath.

  He shrugged. “It is the truth.”

  “I’m going to Cheshire.” She blurted it out much louder than was necessary.

  Inadvertently, he gripped her tighter. Perhaps his body wanted to keep her close and stop her from running away from him or whatever she needed to escape. “When?”

  “In a few days. I have a few things to go over with Helen.” Her throat bobbed with several swallows.

  Mesmerized by her neck and desperate to kiss his way along the hallow of her throat, he gave himself an inward shake to remind of where he was. “Who is taking you?”

  She pulled her shoulders back. “No one. I’m a grown woman and can travel between my own properties. I shall bring two extra footmen for safety, but cannot tolerate waiting on a man to carry me here and there.”

  “I see.” He held back his desire to chuckle as she would likely take it for condescension. It wasn’t that at all. She was brave and strong and so damned adorable he longed to pull her tight and kiss her until they were both breathless.

  Fire flared in her eyes. “Are you laughing at me?”

  God she was incredible. “Not at all. You are a grown woman of means and certainly can make your own decisions. I assume your footmen are reliable and your maid will be with you.”

  “Of course. And my driver, John has been with me for years.” She missed a step and he righted them. “I will be fine.”

  “You’ll send word and let someone know when you arrive safely?” When she stiffened again, he softened his tone. “You cannot fault me for worrying over you, Rora. It’s not as if I can help it. You are my friend, my dearest and most precious friend. I only want to know that you are safe and happy.”

  A soft smile pulled at her full lips. Lips he would die for. Lips that drew him in like the proverbial moth to a flame. Then those lips were moving and he had to snap out of his daydream.

  “I do not like it when we quarrel or disagree, Garrett. You told me once that we would always be friends no matter what happened in our lives apart. I had begun to think you were mistaken in that assertion.”

  “No, Rora. I shall love you all the days of my life regardless of where our lives take us.” He took a modicum of satisfaction from her gaping mouth and flushed cheeks.

  They whirled around the room in a flurry of colors, but only looked into each other’s eyes. Garrett wanted to beg her to reconsider or at least ask her if he could accompany her to Cheshire. He did neither as those were not the things she wanted from him, and he had said he would not renew his desire to marry her. If she changed her mind, she would have to come to him. He prayed every waking hour that she would do just that. Chest and stomach in knots, he steadied his breath and reveled in the moments of the dance where nothing else existed beyond Aurora and him.

  Garrett bowed as the music ended, regretting the need to let her go.

  Potsum stumbled as he ran across the room toward them. “Lady Radcliff, this is my
dance, I believe.”

  Her lips twitched between amusement and annoyance as she curtsied to Garrett. “Thank you for the dance, Your Grace.”

  “The pleasure was mine.”

  Grabbing her elbow, Potsum gave Garrett a curt nod and tugged her deeper onto the dance floor.

  Chapter 24

  Aurora had been set upon by Lord Potsum as soon as she arrived at the ball and couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse him a dance. At least, not one she wished to say publicly.

  The things her brother, Rhys had told her about him, made her skin crawl. She had to admit he was a fine actor, but also a man of no integrity. He held her elbow too tightly and might leave a mark with his thumb. She tugged it away. “My lord, you needn’t bully me. I said I will dance with you and here we are awaiting the music.”

  A slight twitch of his thin lips might have indicated amusement. “Here we are indeed, my lady. And I could not be happier. You have been on my mind a great deal lately.”

  The music started and he was forced to stop whatever nonsense he was about to say and join a foursome for the quadrille. She prayed it would be a short version.

  When they came together, he attempted a grin that looked as if he were just baring his teeth. Aurora hoped she hadn’t flinched, but she feared she had as the man’s expression was horrifying.

  She supposed she was being overly dramatic, but knowing what she did, she found Potsum even more unappealing than she had at the dinner party. Thankful each time the dance pulled them apart, she prayed the last strains would soon free her from his company.

  It began to occur to her that she attracted the most despicable men, but she brushed the notion aside. After all, she’d never met Radcliff before they were engaged. Her father had forced him on her. Wesley had wished to marry her and he was a good and honorable man. He was just the wrong man. Hexon, well, she put him in the same category as Potsum. Malcolm Renshaw had not really wanted her. He just wanted his treasure hunt.

 

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