2
Tabetha would not cry in front of the ton. She would not do it. Do you hear that tears?
Her tears didn’t listen.
The moment she spotted her brother Darius and his wife Evelyn, the battle was lost and a pathetic blubbering sound escaped her lips along with her tears that slid from her eyes.
To a casual observer, her brother seemed to glower at her as she drew near. But she knew better. Her dear brother wasn’t angry, just paralyzed by the sight of weeping. He never had been any good with crying females, which was why Tabetha turned her attention to Evelyn. Surely she would know what to do.
“Evelyn! Oh, Evelyn.” Her voice broke as she reached her sister-in-law’s side.
“What’s wrong?” Evelyn asked.
“The most awful thing has just happened.” Tabetha felt another sob building as Evelyn guided her toward a cluster of plants where Mariah was currently hiding.
Mariah came over to join them, concern knitting her brow. “Tabetha, whatever is the matter?”
Tabetha’s lower lip quivered. Perhaps Mariah had the right idea all along. The only way for a graceless, blundering country bumpkin to avoid scandal at a ball like this was to hide behind the ferns.
Not that Mariah was graceless and blundering. No, that was all Tabetha. Her shy sister had inherited all the good manners, even if she was too shy to use them. Even Clarissa could do a better job of fitting in...if she’d wanted to. Of course, Clarissa had no wish to be a part of society, and so she didn’t try. But if she’d wanted to, she could have. And that was the point.
Meanwhile, it was all Tabetha wanted. It was all she’d ever wanted. To find love, to marry well, to have a family of her own… And that required fitting in. No man wanted to court a hapless country chit who couldn’t so much as walk across a room without causing a scene.
“Tabetha,” Evelyn said in that gentle voice of hers. “Take a breath and tell me what happened.”
Tabetha swiped at the tears that coursed down her cheeks. “I’m not sure I can. It’s just too awful. What she said is just…”
“Who?” Evelyn asked, her brow drawing together.
“Lady Ainsworth,” Tabetha said.
Evelyn exchanged a grim look with Darius. The name Ainsworth tended to do that these days. Tabetha sniffed as her brother and sister-in-law held an entire conversation in silence. It was about the Ainsworths, that much she could guess.
Bad blood abounded between the two families as the Ainsworths attempted to clear their family’s name after a duel took place in India, where Darius had been stationed with the British Army. The duel had left Darius’s best friend and cousin dead and one of the Ainsworth men in prison.
Tabetha wasn’t convinced Lady Ainsworth’s harsh words tonight were a direct result of their animosity toward Darius—she rather thought the older woman would have relished any opportunity to cut her daughter’s competition. The fact that she saw Tabetha as Miss Charlotte’s competition was just bad luck, that was all. It was also laughable.
She was laughable. Tabetha would be the laughingstock of London society. She clapped her hands to her fiery cheeks with a moan of dismay.
Your Grace, Lady Ainsworth had said. That tall, handsome gentleman had been the duke himself.
And she...was a ninny. A fool. A silly flibbertigibbet who couldn’t hold her tongue to save her life. She moaned again just as Clarissa reached her side with a breathless, “What did I miss?”
Tabetha turned to her youngest sister with a sigh. “I was a fool and Lady Ainsworth called me out for it.”
Clarissa’s lips pressed together as her brows drew down in a fierce scowl. “I hope you told that crotchety old hag—”
“Clarissa!” Mariah hissed.
Evelyn shut her eyes with a weary sigh.
Darius looked like he was trying very hard not to smile.
And Tabetha? She gave another sniff to hold back more tears. Why couldn’t she be as fiery as her youngest sister? Or as demure as Mariah?
Oh no. She’d been cursed with all the worst traits a young lady could possess. Insatiable curiosity, impulsive manners, and an unfailing ability to put her foot in it.
Her mother used to say that she also had a lively mind and wit. And Tabetha was kind, anyone of her family would attest to that. But those positive qualities tended to be overshadowed by her irrepressible laughter that burst out at inappropriate moments, or by her penchant for filling silences with ceaseless chatter.
She sighed as Mariah wrapped an arm around her waist and Clarissa patted her arm.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you believe,” Evelyn said in that wonderfully maternal tone of hers.
Tabetha had no doubt that Evelyn would make an excellent mother one day, but for the moment she had the thankless task of chaperoning Tabetha and her sisters. Poor dear.
Darius scowled. “Clarissa has a point, though. Someone ought to put that lady and her family in their place.”
Evelyn arched her brows. “But it won’t be you.”
He gave a huff of grudging agreement. Tabetha wasn’t certain of the details, but she knew that there were very important people handling the duel and its aftermath, ensuring that Darius wouldn’t be drawn into any legal trouble.
All he was required to do was keep his distance and not cause any more of a ruckus with the stodgy old Ainsworths. Tabetha supposed that went for all of them. They were supposed to be on their best behavior or, better yet, steer clear of the Ainsworth family all together.
And yet, Tabetha had managed to stir up conflict with one of them at her very first ball.
Wonderful. This season was off to a fantastic start. She swiped at her eyes as the urge to weep subsided.
She could be something of a watering pot, she’d be the first to admit, but she was naturally optimistic and it never took long for her spirits to bounce back. Even now, she found herself trying to find the bright side.
“You’re right, Evelyn,” Tabetha said. “It likely wasn’t as bad as all that. I just overreacted, that’s all.”
Her sisters gave her matching looks of disbelief, but Evelyn grinned reassuringly. “These things always seem much worse than they really are.” She laughed. “Why, if a little gossip and a slip of the tongue were enough to cause real scandal then your brother wouldn’t have lasted a day.”
Darius huffed and pretended to be offended, which made all three of his sisters laugh.
“Exactly,” Tabetha said, warming to the idea that she’d blown it all out of proportion. “It’s not as though I’m the first person to speak to a duke without knowing who he was.”
Evelyn’s smile faltered, and her siblings gave her a curious stare.
Her mind drifted back to that horrifying moment when her gaze had met the duke’s and he’d glowered at her with those dark eyes and that stern frown. She clapped her hand over her mouth to smother a laugh...or a groan. Perhaps both.
“I’ll admit it was rather embarrassing,” she continued, heat still stinging her cheeks as she tried her best to put a positive spin on the tale. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have suggested he’d been avoiding society because of horrific scarring or—”
“Scarring?” Mariah echoed.
“And perhaps I should have waited to be properly introduced—”
“You weren’t properly introduced?” Evelyn looked pained and some of Tabetha’s newfound cheer waned.
“Well, you see…” She started, and then trailed off as she tried to figure out how best to explain.
“What exactly happened, Tabetha?” Mariah asked.
They all ignored Clarissa’s snicker as she smothered a laugh. Darius grimaced in wary expectation. Evelyn winced as though she were bracing for a blow.
“Er, yes, well, you see, it all happened so quickly. I bumped into His Grace, and I didn’t realize he was him, so to speak…” She trailed off as it became clear that her explanations were not helping. She blew a lock of blonde hair out of her face as she sighed. “It wasn
’t as though I meant to meet the Duke of Walton in such a way. And truly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Certainly, he’s handsome. Striking, even, but his manners! My goodness, one would think he’s dwelling in Hades rather than a ballroom for all the enjoyment he showed. A smile isn’t so difficult, now is it? I know this place is filled with stuffed-shirts, but really—”
“Tabetha!” Evelyn said her name through a tight smile, her eyes wide with meaning.
Oh no. Tabetha went still, and her sisters did the same as they faced a stricken Evelyn and a glowering Darius. Both of whom were staring at someone just behind Tabetha. Someone who towered over her now and who she was very much beginning to fear was—
“Your Grace,” Evelyn said in a falsely chipper tone. “How lovely to see you again.”
“And you, Lady Darling,” the low voice said from behind her.
Tabetha shut her eyes as Clarissa squeezed one arm and Mariah gripped the other. God bless her sisters, who were always there to support her. At the same moment, they let go so that they could turn as one, all three in a row swiveling about to face the man who it seemed was destined to see her at her worst.
Tabetha couldn’t quite bring herself to lift her eyes to meet his censorious gaze as her sister-in-law made introductions, first to Darius and then the sisters. Tabetha curtsied as she ought—the first truly proper thing she’d managed to do all evening—and waited with bated breath for the duke to walk away again so she might cry or curse or, heaven help her...laugh. Because honestly, how much worse could this night get?
And how much had he heard?
“Lady Tabetha,” the duke said in that low, serious voice of his when the introductions were over.
Her gaze snapped up. “Yes, Your Grace?”
Why was he not leaving? Why was he still here? And staring at her with those fearsome eyes and that grim expression, as though talking to her was some form of torture.
“I was hoping you would do me the honor of a dance.” He held out a gloved hand and she stared at it.
Mariah elbowed her in the side, but she still just gaped at the hand. Clarissa cleared her throat. Her brother gave her back a little nudge. But it was Evelyn who finally answered. “She’d be delighted.”
Another nudge, this time from Evelyn, and Tabetha stumbled forward, taking the duke’s hand and following in a stunned daze as he tucked her hand into his arm and headed toward the dance floor.
A waltz was starting.
Blast it all. Waltzes meant conversing, and Tabetha didn’t trust herself to speak. But then again, she couldn’t not speak either.
She hated awkward silences and a mere minute at the Duke of Walton’s side as they crossed the room was enough to prove to her that he excelled at them.
He drew her into his arms as the music began, and she did her best to ignore the stares and the whispers.
They were likely whispering about the duke, anyhow. She and her sisters might be a source of gossip, but they had nothing on the reclusive duke.
Her chin came up a little higher with that thought and as the music swelled and they started to move, she even managed to meet his gaze head-on.
And then she wished she hadn’t.
The dark depths of his eyes were even more intimidating this close, and her mouth went dry as her heart tripped over itself in her chest. At least her feet weren’t tripping over themselves. She’d had enough stumbles in front of this man already, thank you very much. She didn’t need to step on his toes too.
She peered up at him, pressing her lips together to keep from speaking. But as his silence lengthened, the urge to speak rose up in her throat and words filled her mouth and—
“You didn’t have to dance with me, you know.” That was what came out. She winced at their crassness.
His brows hitched up ever so slightly in surprise. The rest of his face was still a stoic mask.
“What I mean to say is, I appreciate it. Indeed, I am very grateful.” She swallowed. Stop talking. Stop talking. Stop— “But I can only imagine that you’re dancing with me as some sort of act of charity.”
He didn’t respond.
“Is that it?” she asked. Her nose wrinkled at the thought of it. A pity dance. From a duke. It seemed she’d reached new heights of humiliation. “That is…” And then there were more words, spilling out before she could stop them. “I must assume that you felt sorry for me, because I...well, I started to cry, didn’t I? How silly of me. But it was even more foolish of me not to know who you were. Lady Ainsworth was right to chastise” she continued much to her own horror.
Stop speaking. Just...stop.
She couldn’t stop. “So, truly, while I appreciate you asking me to dance, I did not wish for you to think that I thought that—” She clapped her mouth shut. That you were truly interested.
Of course he wasn’t interested in her. Not like that. He was a duke.
And a handsome one at that. Dark waving hair brushed back from his face as though a slight wind may have blown in the ballroom. Which was utterly ridiculous. His jaw was square and his nose, perfectly aristocratic. And with his broad shoulders set in straight lines, she had the distinct impression that he was everything she lacked.
He didn’t say a word. He just kept staring at her like she was some foreign object. Some contraption that was both infuriating and puzzling, and perhaps a little terrifying.
But really, the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that he’d asked her out of some sense of chivalry. Of course a duke would be chivalrous. Coming to a lady’s rescue like some prince from their nursery’s storybooks. It was quite noble of him, really.
Her feet moved to the music and she tried to focus on her movements. On her hand in his. On the way it felt to move about like she was walking on air. “You’re an excellent dancer.” It slipped out as he guided her into a turn.
He winced, and she felt it like a slap. Silly girl. Of course he’s a fine dancer. He’s a duke! You don’t say such trivial things to a duke.
The fact that he didn’t return the compliment didn’t help matters. She tried to think of something else to say. “My brother never liked to dance,” she said. “So I used to practice with my sisters. Do you know, they always made me be the gentleman.”
He stared at her, but she found she was growing used to this fierce glare of his, and it no longer made her quite so nervous. It definitely didn’t make her tongue-tied, which was unfortunate because the next thing she knew she was telling him the detailed story of how she and her sisters used to run away from their governess to go for long rides. And that turned into a story of her penchant for horse racing.
She didn’t require Evelyn’s guidance to know that discussing her love of riding at breakneck speeds in her brother’s borrowed trousers was not exactly appropriate. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself, and so the duke now knew her thoughts on riding sidesaddle as well.
She wasn’t for it. She much preferred to ride astride. A fact she truly wished she could have kept to herself.
“Do you like to ride?” she eventually asked. He didn’t answer, and she kept going. “And what about siblings?”
“What about them?” he asked.
“Do you have any?” She smiled as she launched into the story of how she’d thought Clarissa had been switched at birth with a fairy because of a story her nurse had told her.
The nice thing about talking was that she forgot to be nervous. And she forgot to notice the stares and the whispers, as well. And the fact that the duke clearly thought her to be foolish and silly and possibly a touch mad was just fine by her because he wasn’t the sort of man she wanted to marry anyhow.
She refrained from telling him that much, at least. So that was good. Small victories, and all that.
But it was the truth. She smiled up at his stern frown, taking note of his straight brows that came down above his nose as he studied her. So serious. So proper. So...boring.
He might have been a duke, but she meant
to marry for love. And that gentleman would be kind and cheerful, and quick to laugh.
“...and that’s why the country is far more preferable to the city, don’t you think?”
She ended her verbal barrage just as the music faded to a close, and she blinked up at him expectantly.
She thought he might walk away instantly, but instead, he arched a brow. “Am I allowed to answer now?”
She choked on a laugh as she nodded, and then he offered her his arm as he escorted her back to her family. As they walked, they both ignored the watching crowd, and he answered her questions in a systematic manner. “No siblings. I agree that the country is preferable. I have not had the pleasure of reading any works by Mrs. Parsons, and yes, the weather is unseasonably warm…”
His monotone answers continued as they crossed the room to her family, where he left her with a short bow. “Good evening, Lady Tabetha.”
“Good evening, Your Grace.”
He’d been mocking her with his litany of answers, she had to assume. And she couldn’t exactly blame him. There was no way the duke would be seeking her out again, that much was certain. She felt the tiniest stab of disappointment. Not that she was terribly fond of the duke, of course, but his actions this evening had been chivalrous and gentlemanly. All that one would expect from a dashing and handsome duke.
She turned to her sisters with an exhausted sigh as they peppered her with questions. She’d find a way to laugh about this too before the night was over. And on the bright side, she supposed they could both be glad that neither of them would have to suffer through a waltz like that ever again.
3
Two more times.
Luke sat in his carriage, his hand scrubbing his face as he waited in the crush of vehicles dropping off guests at the Wiltshire Ball. He had to dance with that fountain of conversation twice more yet.
Words bubbled from her the way water poured from a spout. Constant and incessant. Silly words of meaningless tripe like her theories on his health or lack thereof. Didn’t the woman have any sense?
Her ceaseless prattle indicated Lady Tabetha didn’t have much.
The Duke’s Darling Debutante Page 2