The Duke’s Darling Debutante

by Dallen, Maggie

  Then again, two days had passed since their last interaction and he’d found himself thinking about her conversation far more than he dared admit to anyone but himself.

  Had she really stolen her brother’s breeches to ride astride? What would that even look like?

  An image of her mass of blonde hair blowing in the wind as she rode breakneck through a field rose in his thoughts. The lines of her body were truly lovely, and he could actually picture her on top of a large stallion.

  He groaned in his carriage as it inched forward. Why was he still contemplating this? Hadn’t he better topics to consider?

  And why, as he’d thought more on the subject of the lady in question, had he considered that water was clean and pure and fresh… not unlike Tabetha herself.

  He pushed that thought aside.

  The girl was a nuisance. Plain and simple. Well, plain was perhaps the wrong word for her.

  He sighed again as his carriage finally drew up and stopped in front of massive stone steps that led to a wide set of double doors. He got out and waited to make his way up the seven or eight steps.

  A crush of people filled the entry, and he tensed at the sight of them, his muscles locking, which, in turn, made his back spasm in pain. These episodes came on without warning and often without much provocation. He clenched his jaw as his breath held while he waited for the pain to pass.

  His eyes closed. More than the pain, he dreaded the degradation that was about to befall him. Had he truly thought he could hide his injury for the entirety of the season?

  “Your Grace?” A familiar voice spoke from next to him. Apparently, not only did Tabetha’s laugh ring like a bell but her speaking voice… it held a lyrical quality that he hadn’t noticed in their last meeting.

  “Lady Tabetha,” he pushed out between clenched teeth. He tried to look at her but his back twinged again, sending another shower of icy needles spraying down his back.

  “Are you…are you all right?” she asked, a breathy quality filling her voice. It sounded both worried and oddly pleasing.

  “I will be. In just a moment.” He hadn’t held out his elbow, but he felt her fingers wrap about his arm in a surprisingly firm grip despite the size of her small hands.

  “Tabetha,” another female spoke from behind them. “Is everything all right?”

  “You darted off rather quickly,” another said. “What was your rush? Oh…”

  He could not turn his neck to look at any of them but he’d wager that her family had joined them.

  “Lady Tabetha,” he said again, his jaw now so tight he might be able to form a diamond from coal. “Might I escort you inside?” Truth be told, he might actually need her to escort him and that was...humiliating.

  He prided himself on being a pillar of strength. And yet, he couldn’t even manage a simple trip up the stairs. He tried to draw in a deep breath to clear the pain, but his back spasmed a third time and a small groan escaped his lips.

  Her hand tightened on his elbow. “I’d be delighted.”

  He didn’t look to see how she managed it, but somehow, she carried part of his weight up the stairs. And as she did, she talked. “Another lovely evening for a party, wouldn’t you agree?”

  This time she paused, giving him a moment to answer, not that he could. He was too occupied making his body work despite the pain.

  “I find London in the spring more enjoyable than I imagined, though I will be most happy to return home for the summer.”

  “Mmm,” he managed to mumble as she continued.

  “Do you have stables here in the city?”

  “Mmm,” he answered again. They reached the top of the stairs and he was able to draw in a short breath which helped to clear a bit of the pain.

  “My brother has one here, which surprised me, but it is a delight. I’d like to ride in the park at some point during our stay.”

  He took another breath. The spasm was passing and his teeth finally unclenched. “If you do, go very early.”

  “Why is that?” she asked, her hands easing their hold on his arm. That’s when he realized what a firm grip she’d had on his elbow to get him up the stairs. Despite his own embarrassment, a wave of gratitude washed over him. How unfailingly kind…

  He turned his head to look down at her delicate profile. “Members of the ton, who are out in the late morning and afternoon, don’t gallop in the park, they trot.”

  “Trot?” she wrinkled her nose. “For what purpose?”

  An actual laugh rose up in his throat. They were in the crowded entry now, waiting to be announced, and when the noise escaped his mouth, no one seemed to notice.

  Odd. When was the last time he’d let out a genuine peal of laughter? And how could no one notice or care? Except one person did. Lady Tabetha gave him an answering smile that lit the entire entry with its brilliance.

  He found himself leaning closer. “For the purpose of being seen.”

  She made a small tsking noise. “And here I thought the purpose of riding was to...ride.”

  “I happen to agree.” He chuckled again. “Which is why I miss riding terribly.”

  “You miss it?” she asked, her brow crinkling as she looked up at him. “Why don’t you ride any longer?”

  They were nearing the entry to the ballroom, and in a few moments, he’d be announced. To be introduced with Tabetha on his arm would be a statement that he had no intention of making.

  Crest’s words came back to him. His job was to lay enough favor on her to help her attract other suitors while not entangling himself too completely.

  But he was spared untangling himself as once again, a female called from behind them. “Tabetha?”

  This time he was able to turn and see the Countess of Darling just behind them.

  “Yes, Evelyn?” Tabetha asked.

  “We’re nearing the front of the line,” Evelyn replied with a gentle nudge. “Why don’t you join us?”

  Luke gave a small nod of appreciation in Evelyn’s direction. Clearly she understood the rules and how to delicately ensure that Tabetha adhered to them. It briefly occurred to him that a woman like that would make a good duchess. Or countess.

  Just behind Evelyn was her new husband, a hulking frowning man who seemed to glower constantly. The two seemed like an unlikely pairing. Then again, Crest’s words about opposites came back to him.

  Did couples of opposite skills complement one another?

  It was an interesting concept that he considered as he made his way into the crush. He looked back to see Tabetha and her family settling into a corner. She stood near to her two sisters, their heads bent together in conversation.

  The girls spoke quickly, their bodies pressed close together.

  He thought about the conversation he’d overheard yesterday. They’d held onto one another just like they did now as Tabetha had...well, disparaged him. Which made Luke shake his head. He and Tabetha’s feelings of dislike seemed to be mutual. Except, she’d come to his aid this evening, and he was here to come to hers.

  That thought spurred him forward once again. He’d request a dance and perhaps they’d even take a turn about the room. He ought to give her an explanation for his behavior up the stairs. And that amount of attention ought to be perfectly suited to his end goal.

  Which he realized was finding Tabetha a husband.

  His pulse skipped as he considered Tabetha married. She’d make a good and faithful wife. He stopped part way to her side. The water fountain of conversation had certainly washed over him if he’d thought of her in those terms.

  He shook his head then. He hadn’t meant for himself, of course. He’d want a woman who was more suited to his personality. Quieter, more reflective, finely mannered and...cold.

  Inadvertently, he winced. He didn’t know that. Look at Evelyn. She seemed all manner of quiet and subdued and yet she radiated a warmth that surely suited her husband.

  But would she suit a man like him?

  What he wanted for his own
bride was a question that could wait. For right this moment, he had a favor to fulfill. With that in mind, he started toward Tabetha again.

  She noticed him coming this time, and she gave a start, drawing back from her sisters. Had they been discussing him again? Most likely. “Ladies,” he murmured.

  All three dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace,” they replied in unison.

  “Lady Mariah, Lady Clarissa, good to see you again.” He met Tabetha’s crystal blue gaze. He nearly choked when he realized her eyes were the color of a babbling brook on a sunny summer day. “Lady Tabetha,” he gave a short bow. “May I have your next available dance?”

  “Of course, Your Grace. This one has already begun, but we could...” She reached for the dance card dangling from her wrist.

  “The next then?” he asked as he cleared his throat.

  She gave a stiff nod, writing his name onto the thick stock. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “As will I,” he answered, not certain what else to say. They’d already discussed the weather, and with her sisters listening, he didn’t wish to talk about his accident.

  Her mouth opened and closed, then opened again, as though she too were struggling with what to say. He hadn’t thought it possible. Tabetha without words? She drew in a breath. “Do you plan to stay in London long?”

  He didn’t answer immediately, sure she’d launch into some story or another, but instead, another awkward silence fell. His brows lifted. “Was I supposed to answer that? I just assumed you had more to say.”

  A blush filled her cheeks. “I thought not to make quite such a fool of myself as I did the other night and, well, just now as we entered.”

  He could have kicked himself. “If anyone made a fool of themselves just now, it was assuredly me.” And then he held out his elbow. “I wonder if we might take a turn about the room?”

  Her eyes widened, but she gave a nod of acceptance as her hand slipped into his arm.

  They began a circle about the edges of the room as Luke searched for the right words to say. “Thank you for your help up the stairs. I hope I did not lean on you too overly much.”

  “You were fine,” she replied back. “I believe we’ve established I am a country girl and made of sterner stuff than that.”

  He nodded as he looked down at her. “Most kind.” Then he took a breath. “This isn’t something I share very often but you asked at our first meeting why I’d been a recluse.”

  Her feet stalled for just a moment, her gaze sliding away toward the far wall. “I did.”

  “It’s the same reason I struggled with the stairs.” He stopped then, turning toward her as he waited to catch her eyes again. “I was caught unawares by a branch while riding nearly two years ago. Pulled me clean off my mount and the landing broke my back.”

  She gasped, her hand tightening on his arm. “Oh, Your Grace. How dreadful.”

  He had the distinct urge to ask her to use his given name. Which was ridiculous. No one currently alive called him Luke. Walton was as personal as he got these days. He clamped his mouth shut as she began to talk.

  “The same thing nearly happened to me. I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t ride. Does it hurt much still? Do you have to limit your activity? How long has the recovery taken and why—” She stopped. “Forgive me. I do tend to prattle so.” Once again color filled her cheeks.

  But this time, he found he didn’t mind. She’d given him license to share as little or as much as he chose. “I do still have pain, and occasionally my back spasms, making movement very difficult. It’s what happened on the stairs when you…” He paused, his mouth pressing into a firm line. “Came to my rescue.”

  Her return smile made him blink in surprise. It crinkled her eyes and showed her row of perfectly straight teeth. She tilted her chin up to him, the gesture holding an intimacy that wrapped about him. He wished to pull her closer.

  “I’m so glad,” she answered, her voice catching. “But I wonder,” she said as she looked to the side. “If you might put in a good word for me with some of the other gentlemen.” And then she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a look of worry crossing her features.

  Fools.

  Luke blinked in surprise at his own thought. When had he shifted from thinking Tabetha the silly one to now considering men who didn’t notice the fine woman underneath as the fools?

  “Lady Tabetha,” he said, leaning close. “I am doing that very thing by asking you to dance.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise as the quadrille began to fade out and dancers left the floor. “Oh.”

  He held out his hand to her, slipping her gloved fingers in his own. What would her hand feel like without the glove? Would her skin be soft like a lady’s or more calloused from all her riding?

  He’d like to know.

  “Lady Tabetha,” he said. “I believe this dance is mine.”

  She gave a quick nod, her gaze casting down. “I believe it is.”

  He pulled her toward the floor.

  She followed just a step behind him, their hands joined until they reached an open spot among the other dancers. Luke pulled her around into his waiting arms. As his hand slipped on the natural curve of her waist, he noted how it fit his hand perfectly. He drew in a deep breath, readying himself.

  And then the first notes of the song filled the air.

  Tabetha’s eyes widened in surprise. His own narrowed. “What is it?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t know about your back when I chose this dance,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

  A few more notes filtered through his ear and he realized the mistake. It was a leaping waltz. His eyes closed. He could likely manage it on a normal day but with the spasms he’d just had…

  Much as he hated embarrassment, he was about to be thoroughly humiliated.

  4

  Tabetha sighed. She knew what must be done. But here she’d hoped to make it through one ball without humiliating herself. She lifted her gaze heavenward. Apparently, that was asking for too much.

  Her poor family. Of course, they’d love her anyway, but still. It would be nice to not humiliate them just once. Her success, or lack thereof, had some bearing on her sister’s future prospects. And this dance, it could have been as His Grace said—a message to other suitors that she was desirable, worthy.

  But the moment the first notes filled the air, Tabetha had known what she must do.

  There was only one thing to do, and she knew without a doubt that it would be up to her. After all, a duke likely didn’t have much experience being a bungling embarrassment. She, on the other hand, had a lifetime of mishaps to call upon.

  Even so... She let out another weary sigh as she and the duke began the first few steps of the blasted leaping waltz. A leaping waltz! Of all the bad luck.

  But one look at the proud set of the duke’s chin had her straightening her shoulders, determination replacing her temporary bout of self-pity. The man had been kind enough to take a turn about the room with her, and even asked for another dance, when they both knew very well the first had been an epic disaster.

  She owed him this, at the very least.

  And so she cried out as if in pain and then threw herself onto the floor. The other dancers all stopped, of course, and a small crowd hovered around her. But it was the duke who glowered down at her, concern etched across his handsome, stern features.

  She nearly laughed at his concern. Did he not realize she was feigning an injury? He reached a hand down to help her to her feet. “Lady Tabetha, are you all right?”

  Apparently, he did not realize. She would never presume to know the duke so very well, but there could be no doubt that his concern was genuine. And that was sweet, really. She’d never had a duke fretting over her before.

  So perhaps she leaned into him a little more than strictly necessary as she let him help her to her feet and then guide her from the dance floor. She smiled at the stricken dancers as they parted for her, as she assured the
m that she was fine. Just turned an ankle, that was all.

  She couldn’t see her sisters through the crowd, and it was likely for the best. They’d know she was acting. She truly wasn’t a great actress, not nearly so good as Clarissa. But apparently, she was good enough to fool the ton. She glanced up—and a duke.

  “Come, let’s find you a place to rest,” he murmured.

  His voice was low and gentle, and his body was warm where it was pressed against hers. His arm around her shoulders was strong. Protective. And besides, it wasn’t every day that a lady got to play the role of damsel in distress. It was even rarer that one was rescued so spectacularly by a duke.

  Even if the rescue wasn’t exactly necessary.

  The crowd parted for them as he led her toward a far corner where a low settee was nestled in an alcove. He set her down gently, as though she might break. She smiled up at him. Yes, he was far too serious, but he could be quite chivalrous when he wanted to be.

  He was frowning down at her. “Is your ankle swollen? Shall I fetch a doctor or—”

  “Oh no.” She waved aside his concern. A crowd of elderly matrons were watching them closely, but she already spotted her sisters crossing the room. “I shall be just fine, I assure you.”

  “Are you certain?” His brows drew together as he eyed the tip of her slipper as if he could see past her crinoline and lace to the injury beneath. “I could arrange for—”

  “Your Grace.” She couldn’t quite keep the laughter from her voice as she interrupted. His gaze met hers and she smiled. “I am not truly hurt.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. So long that she was compelled to fill the silence. “I was only pretending, you see.”

  “Pretending,” he echoed.

  “Yes.” She fidgeted on the settee. How long did she have to sit here as though her foot still ached? She craned her neck to see where her sisters had gotten to. It seemed as though they were intercepted by one of Evelyn’s friends. Oh dear. The last thing she needed was to cause a scandal for having a private tête-à-tête with the duke. Not that they were alone. They had an audience all around them. But still…