The Heart of a Hellion: The Duke’s Bastards Book 2

by Michaels, Jess

  Her breath felt very short as she stared at him. She’d never met a man who caused that cliché loss of breath, but here he was, standing in her brother’s parlor. She had to regain some control of herself, for God’s sake.

  So she arched a brow and retook control. “Whatever did you determine, Mr. Huntington, when you were watching me so intently on the drive?”

  She saw the flutter of frustration on his face, but also interest. Her smile grew more real at both of those. She liked testing him. It was fun, as well as functional.

  He shifted a fraction and then took a long step in her direction. He seemed to loom up in front of her, too tall and too present and just…too. She edged a bit nearer, as well, and now they were less than an arm’s length apart.

  “I was watching Lady Winford,” he said.

  She smiled at the lie and tilted her head toward him. “If you say so.”

  His jaw clenched a little. There was that control, balanced on a knife’s blade. And she still wanted to know what would happen if she ever…snapped it.

  “Did she say anything of interest to you?” he asked.

  She lifted her hands to her hips as she glared at him. “Oh, so now you want my help again.”

  “No, I only—” he began, but she didn’t let him finish. She stopped him by lifting a hand and placing it flat against his chest. Through the fabric, she felt his heart rate elevate, saw his pupils dilate. Felt the coiled strength of him tighten all the more.

  “You need to figure out what you want, Derrick Huntington.” She drew out every syllable of his name.

  His breath hitched, and the room seemed to shrink as he stared down at her. And even though this was exactly the position she’d been trying to create, exactly the game she’d come here to play, now that she was standing here, touching him, feeling the pulse of the instant, heated connection between them, she found herself backing away. Her hand dropped to her side and blood filled her cheeks.

  “Good afternoon,” she stammered, then turned and hustled from the room before he could catch her arm and draw her back. Before he could draw her in. Before he could draw her out and win the game that Derrick didn’t even know they were playing.

  Chapter 9

  As much as she willed them not to, Selina’s hands were still shaking as she burst into her chamber. She wanted a moment alone, perhaps to flop on her bed and relieve herself of some of the pesky desire that still pulsed through her. But it wasn’t to be. Vale was perched on her bed, lazing against the pillows, and she sat up as Selina closed the door behind her.

  “The bitch is here,” Selina said without preamble.

  She didn’t need it, for those words brightened Vale’s expression and she clapped her hands together. “Excellent! That means the necklace is too. All these plans, they’re about to come to fruition at last!”

  Vale was right, of course, but Selina was having a hard time finding pleasure in that fact. All she could think about was Katherine and her welcoming Selina into the family.

  All she could think about was Derrick and the way those dark eyes just bored their way all the way to whatever was left of her soul.

  “You seem out of sorts,” Vale said, and her tone yanked Selina back into reality. “Why?”

  Selina blinked and Vale’s face fell. “How many years have we been friends?”

  “Vale-”

  “How many?” Vale repeated.

  Selina sighed. “Seven. Since the night you saved my life.”

  “I’ve known your secret. Have I ever even come close to telling it?”

  Selina shifted, for Vale was right. But the reason she felt out of sorts felt…different somehow. Personal. Emotional. It could be seen as a weakness. And weaknesses could always be used as ammunition.

  Vale folded her arms. “Is it Huntington?”

  “No!” Selina heard how loud that denial was. How falsely quick and forceful. “No,” she repeated, with a bit more control this time.

  But the damage was done. Vale pushed from the bed, and Selina could see how troubled her friend looked. “I’m worried about you. You had better get whatever this is under control, Selina. Or else it might end the Fox.”

  Without another word, Vale left the chamber. And Selina collapsed onto the bed she had abandoned with a shuddering sigh. Vale wasn’t wrong. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.

  Whatever was happening might not just end her as the Fox. She feared that this unexpected attraction to a man who was so very dangerous might actually end her completely. Because she already felt turned inside out. And she feared Derrick could do far worse the closer he got.

  “You just have to find a way to control him,” Selina muttered. Only she feared that doing so would expose her. And she’d have to be on the top of her game to avoid just that.

  * * *

  Derrick stood toward the back of the large ballroom, leaning against the wall as he watched the festivities around him. Glittering gowns, perfectly polished boots, overly loud laughter, all of it grated on him. All of it made him patently aware of how far he’d moved away from this world, to the point where he didn’t belong.

  But this was where the case took him, so what could he do?

  The Duke of Roseford had moved to an elevated platform where the orchestra had been playing, and he held up a hand. Immediately the room went silent, directed by a man who wielded power casually.

  “Good evening,” Roseford said with a smile over the room. “This first ball was slightly delayed, but now that all our friends have joined us at last, I am so pleased to welcome you to our home. Now go dance and make a scandal.”

  The party laughed for the most part, though a few of the more straight-laced attendees pulled faces at the order. As Roseford came down and the music began to play, those on the ballroom floor peeled back to make room for the dancing, and that was when Derrick saw her.

  Selina was moving slowly in the middle of the room, no longer surrounded by the milling crowd. And she was…exquisite. Her gown was a robin’s egg blue, designed to match those outrageous eyes to perfection. It was edged in gold, including a swath of sash that lifted her breasts right to the edge of the low neckline of the gown. She turned as if she sensed him and her gaze caught his across the room.

  Bloody hell, but he wanted her.

  Then the couples began to swarm the floor and she was hidden in their wake. He blinked as he realized Roseford had somehow approached while Derrick was distracted.

  “Good evening, Your Grace,” Derrick managed to choke out.

  “Bit of a dry throat, eh?” Roseford said with a smile. “I can solve that problem.” He waved for a footman, who came over with a tray of drinks. Roseford plucked two of them and handed one over.

  Derrick slugged back half of it before he realized Roseford was staring at him with wide eyes. “Forgive me. The heat of the crowd, you know,” he lied.

  Roseford’s eyebrows remained high, but he didn’t question the lie. “I thought perhaps you’d like an introduction to Lord and Lady Winford, if you aren’t already acquainted.”

  Derrick blinked. Yes, the Winfords. The duty he kept forgetting whenever Selina Oliver sashayed near him. The duty he had to remember now or risk losing the opportunity this man was giving him.

  “Yes, thank you. That would be helpful.”

  Roseford motioned him to follow and weaved through the crowd. Derrick was a step behind him and noted how everyone he passed greeted Roseford. He was obviously well liked by all who knew him.

  At last they reached the Winfords, who were standing to the side of the dancefloor. Derrick focused on them as they approached, taking in whatever facts he could glean before they noticed him and began to hide things. Lady Winford was very pretty, no one could deny that. Her gown was too tight around the bust, causing her breasts to nearly pop out like overstuffed sausages from the top. An effect he assumed she was trying to create.

  But not for her husband, it seemed. Though they stood together, they were each turned slightl
y away from the other, not talking. Not interacting at all. There was no warmth there. No interest. Perhaps they’d had a row. Perhaps this was their usual state.

  Derrick would have to find out. One never knew which information would be important in the future.

  “Ah, Lord and Lady Winford,” Roseford said as they reached their guests.

  Both the earl and the countess perked up at his arrival. And why not? Roseford was important. To be invited to one of his soirees was an honor to many.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Winford purred, leaning forward to give a better look at those breasts she had on display. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

  Roseford didn’t even take a downward glance at the lady’s offering. “I’m glad you were able to recover from what sounded like a truly terrible travel experience and join us,” he said. There was a little tension to his voice, a twitch to his cheek. He didn’t like the pair, though he hid it well.

  “We wouldn’t miss it, Roseford,” Lord Winford said with a sniff toward his wife.

  “Have you met our good friend, Mr. Huntington?” Roseford said, motioning to Derrick with what appeared to be a genuine smile. “He served with my brother in the war.”

  Lord Winford’s gaze flitted to him, over him, and immediately Derrick saw the dismissal. He’d be passably polite, of course, but he didn’t see the value in a mere soldier.

  Lady Winford, on the other hand, let her gaze linger as she swept it over him. There was interest there, but not of a friendly kind. Derrick shifted.

  “Ah, I see my wife motioning me,” Roseford said with an apologetic nod. “The life of a host is never slow. I hope to speak to you soon. Good evening.”

  He slipped into the crowd as the Winfords said their good evenings, and that left Derrick alone with them. Here was the open door. He just needed to find a way through it.

  “You’re not just some common soldier,” Lady Winford said, tilting her head. “Why do I know your name? Huntington…”

  Derrick stiffened at the way she said common soldier. Dismissive, but that was a familiar experience when it came to people of this sphere. They couldn’t see value in anything that was different from themselves. As if the luck of birth made anyone better than anyone else.

  “The Earl of Brillshire, isn’t it?” Winford said, his interest returning to Derrick in an instant. “Your father?”

  Derrick fought the urge to be snide and remembered his case. “My grandfather, actually. My father is his third son, the Honorable Roger Huntington.”

  “Really,” Lady Winford said, the interest in her gaze jumping higher. “That must be it. I believe we’ve met your father before, at soirees in London.”

  “I’m certain you have,” Derrick said softly. “He and my mother are happy to join the fray.”

  “But you are not,” Lord Winford said, the dismissive sound back to his voice. “Happier to go slumming in the army, eh?”

  Derrick set his jaw and was trying not to make a crude rejoinder when suddenly Selina stepped into the circle of their group. “Lord and Lady Winford, how lovely to see you again. Are you enjoying the party?”

  The Winfords looked at her in what appeared to be surprise at her intrusion, but if she felt that, she didn’t show it. Selina’s expression was just one of pure innocence. A mask if he’d ever seen one, because he knew what wicked things lurked beneath it.

  “Good evening, Miss Oliver.” It was Lord Winford who answered first. And if he had looked dismissive of Derrick, now he had much more interest in his stare as he looked down at Selina. Derrick’s stomach clenched at the leer the man didn’t even try to hide.

  Selina seemed oblivious to it. She merely pivoted toward Lady Winford with another of those dazzling smiles. “I admit, Lady Winford, I came over with the desire to see the famous Breston necklace!”

  Derrick caught his breath at her boldness. What the hell was she doing? He fought an urge to catch her arm, drag her away and cause what would surely be a scene.

  “That isn’t it, is it?” she continued, apparently unaware to his discomfort as she pointed to a ring of diamonds around the lady’s neck.

  Lady Winford glanced down at herself and then shook her head. “These? Good gracious, no. This is just some silly thing Winford bought me a few years ago.” Derrick noted the slight flinch and the deeper frown that comment elicited from Winford. “No, the Breston is far finer, I assure you. I wouldn’t wear it to just any event, though I do have it here, of course. With that Faceless Fox character flitting around, one cannot be too careful.”

  “No,” Selina said with a smile. “One can most definitely not. Wicked creature, that one. But will you wear it here? I do long to see it.”

  Lady Winford sniffed at her. “I’m sure you do. The little thrills one’s betters can give must be what you live on. Perhaps I’ll wear it at the end of the event.” She turned then and speared her husband with a glare. “Come, Winford, I see the Duke and Duchess of Sheffield. They aren’t the most important here, but they’re friends of Roseford, so it will behoove us to do a good deed. Good evening, Mr. Huntington.”

  The couple didn’t even say a proper farewell to Selina. Winford leered a bit, Lady Winford sniffed again, and then they were off, winding their way through the crowd toward the Sheffields.

  Derrick pivoted on Selina, ready to launch into a tirade over her interference. He was stopped by the smile on her face, wicked and pointed and aimed directly at him.

  “Well, Mr. Huntington,” she said, reaching to take his arm. Her fingers snaked around his elbow, warm and firm and oh-so-tantalizing. “Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?”

  He blinked. “Dance?” he repeated, thrown from his game for a moment by the question.

  “Yes,” she said with a laugh that turned more than a few heads in her direction. “It’s when you hold a lady in your arms and move in time to the music.”

  He fought a smile that threatened to twitch at his lips. “I’m aware of the particulars of the exercise, Miss Oliver. Do you want to dance with me?”

  “That’s why I asked you,” she said with another of those flirtatious smiles. She caught his hand. “Come on, forget everything else and let’s go.”

  She dragged him forward and suddenly they were in the middle of the dancefloor, the strains of the waltz rising up around them. He positioned his hand, one holding hers, the other resting on the swell of her hip. God, but he felt that curve in every fiber of his being.

  As they began to move, she smiled at him again, that little wicked, knowing tease of a smile. “Derrick, no one else knows your true purpose here. In all their minds, you’re a guest. So you better start acting like one.”

  Derrick let out his breath in a long sigh and then threw himself into the steps just like he’d been taught years ago when he was another man with another life.

  * * *

  Derrick’s fingers were on her hip. Certainly, Selina had danced with many a man in her life. Waltzes and cotillions and everything in between. But never had she been so aware of the pressure of a man’s long, lean fingers against her hip, almost like she wasn’t wearing anything at all and those fingers were pressed there for another purpose.

  She swallowed and tried to pull herself together. She was supposed to be in control in this situation, even if she turned it into a seduction. She needed to get to that control right now.

  She held his stare for a moment. He moved gracefully, but she could see the effort it required. His jaw was clenched, his eyes focused, sometimes on her, sometimes on his own feet, and she could swear he was counting in his head.

  She smiled, slow and flirtatious, and his eyes widened just a touch, his steps faltering a fraction before he recovered.

  “Are you going to thank me?” she asked.

  “For what?” The words were ground through those clenched teeth.

  “For helping you,” she said, batting her eyelashes slightly, like the sweetest little innocent in the whole country. “I was able to make Lady Winfor
d speak of the necklace.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come over and make anyone talk to me about anything,” he said. “I was doing fine on my own.”

  “Were you?” she teased.

  He gave her another of those severe, toe-curling scowls, but she thought the corner of his mouth twitched. She almost crowed in triumph. He was just as much a part of this game as she was. He liked how she toyed with him, even if he tried not to. And that made it all the more fun.

  “You really shouldn’t interfere, you know,” he said.

  She let him spin her through the crowd before she answered, “You keep saying that, but you keep needing to be rescued.”

  “I have a partner for rescue.”

  They both looked across the ballroom. Barber was standing with the Duke and Duchess of Crestwood. They were laughing together, though Selina was aware that the other man’s gaze focused on the two of them often. And just like Derrick, Barber seemed well equipped to read a situation.

  “Well, it wouldn’t make as much sense for a man to ask about jewelry without rousing suspicion.”

  “Lady Winford wasn’t very kind about it,” he said with a slight frown. “She was very rude to you.”

  Selina shrugged as best she could when she was in his arms. “It doesn’t matter. That’s just who she is. I didn’t expect a warm welcome. You know people like that, I’d wager. She’s terrible.”

  “You said something similar about her last night in her chamber,” he said. “What was your bad experience with her, exactly?”

  She let out her breath. “I was at a gathering once where I watched her berate her ladies companion until the poor girl was almost hysterical. She sacked the woman without reference. She knew there would be consequences and she did it anyway.”

  “What happened to her? The servant, that is?” Derrick asked.

  Selina pursed her lips. “I helped her. She was able to get another position when I…forged a letter of recommendation from Lady Winford.”