The Duke’s Darling Debutante

by Dallen, Maggie

  This, right here, was what had been missing from his life for so long. What he’d hoped for in a marriage and what he’d found in the woman currently in his arms.

  Mariah tapped Tabetha’s shoulder with her fan. “I look forward to it. Now go. Before we’re discovered.”

  Luke cleared his throat as he twisted around to plan his exit strategy. The space was tight, with little room for Tabetha to back up and allow him to turn. It could be done, of course, but here in the confines of this small space, they were delightfully close and he honestly wished to delay their departure a moment or two. Once they stepped out into the room...

  “Give me a moment,” he murmured. And then he lifted Tabetha, reversing their positions so that she was now closest to where he’d entered.

  “Your back,” she cried, even as he set her back down, though he didn’t let her go. In fact, he’d like to pick her up again, hold her weight against him.

  “My back is fine. I’ve fully recovered from the spasm but thank you for your concern.” With one last squeeze to her waist, he slipped his hands from her torso, dropping them to his sides. “Can you manage a turn?”

  Her fingers eased from his coat. “I think so.”

  But her skirts were just a bit tangled in his legs and some of the fabric caught.

  She stopped, teetering a bit as he reached for her waist with one hand and her skirts with the other, untangling them, the silk of her gown sliding over his glove even as her scent filled his nostrils.

  He wished to hold her there. Remain close. He’d like to stay behind these potted plants all evening. But they’d never be able to discuss what had happened with her sister so close. With a frown of regret, he let her go again.

  Tabetha backed up, getting swallowed by the branches of the fern which brushed over her dress and hair before she finally disappeared from view.

  He took a step to follow when a hand at his shoulder stopped him. “She’s terribly fond of you,” Mariah said, her voice soft and full of understanding. “Whatever you say to her, I beg you to be gentle.”

  Luke gave a curt nod, not because he lacked patience with Mariah’s words but because they touched him. Perhaps it was the declaration that Tabetha held some sort of affection for him. Or it was the caring that punctuated the sisters’ relationship. He took a long breath, attempting to loosen the tightness in his chest. “Of course, my lady. Your warning wasn’t necessary. I’ve come here to—” But he stopped. Those were words for Tabetha, not her sister.

  Mariah softened as she patted his shoulder. “Don’t let me keep you from it, then.”

  With a final nod, he stepped through the leaves.

  Tabetha waited on the other side, her hands tightly clasped together, her look uncertain.

  He held out his elbow. “Your sister seems to think that we ought to communicate. Shall we walk and talk?”

  Tabetha slowly loosened her fingers from their tight knot and then slipped a hand around the crook of his arm. “My sister is being unusually pushy,” she said as they began to take a turn about the edge of the room. “Which is unlike Mariah. Normally that role is reserved for Clarissa.”

  He raised his brows in silent acknowledgement, aware that both Clarissa and Lord Darling watched their progress now. “I see.”

  Tabetha glanced up at him before she cast her eyes down again. “I’m afraid I don’t. See. Why you might have come tonight, that is.”

  But he couldn’t answer as two partygoers stopped them to pay their respects. It took several minutes before he could extricate them from the conversion and continue about the room. “I came because I agree with Mariah. I need a chance to explain.”

  “Explain?” she asked, her other hand coming to his arm.

  “About Lord Crestwood.” He slowed to look down at her. “First, let me be clear that he wanted to lay favor on you himself. Which might have seemed less odd, as he’s your family’s friend, but his father is ill and—”

  “Ill?” she gasped, her fingers tightening. “Oh dear. I’m so sorry for him.”

  “As am I. It’s never easy to lose a parent.” He tilted his chin down closer. These words were for her ears alone. He didn’t wish to be overheard and he liked being close to her.

  At that exact moment, Mrs. Claremont approached. “Your Grace,” she said with a flourish of her gloved hands, her voice far louder than necessary. “We are delighted you’re here.”

  He held in a growl of frustration. They were getting nowhere.

  And worse yet, Mrs. Claremont dropped several hints—loudly—that if he didn’t wish to lay favor on Tabetha, her son, Clarence Claremont had...designs.

  As the woman finally parted, he used his free hand to scrub down his face. “We had that conversation two ticks louder than was strictly necessary.”

  Tabatha pressed her lips together, attempting to hide a look of amusement. “Her hearing isn’t so good anymore.”

  That might be true but her timing had been impeccable. He and Tabetha would never finish this conversation if he didn’t take some sort of measure.

  And so, he steered them toward the open doors of the terrace where a delightful little breeze drifted in and cooled the room.

  They stepped outside into the quiet night. Luke let out a long breath as he noted no one else was about. They were in clear view of the party, of course, but he moved back toward the garden wall on the edge of the light spilling from the drawing room. “Where were we?”

  Tabetha gave him a small smile, the sort that made his stomach tighten and his pulse race faster. “Lord Crestwood’s father?”

  “Oh, yes.” He nodded. “Lord Crestwood simply asked me to dance with you a few times in order to make certain other gentlemen noticed your attributes.”

  The smile slipped from her face. “I see.”

  He shook his head. “Men ask ladies to dance all the time. There’s no harm in it. And I didn’t see the hurt in fulfilling the obligation. Like you, I wished to help.”

  She swallowed giving a shaky nod. “Most kind, Your Grace.”

  “Luke,” he said, needing a more intimate address from her, of all people. “My given name is Luke.”

  “Luke,” she repeated so softly, it might have been a sigh.

  He couldn’t help himself then. He cupped her cheek, his thumb skimming across the velvet of her cheekbone. “But I never intended to like you as much as I did.”

  “Like me?”

  He smiled at that, leaning even closer. Her lips were softly parted and her eyes glimmered in the dim light, the crystal blue of them sparkling. He drew in her fresh scent, loving the feel of her shoulder pressed to his. “Yes, Tabetha. I didn’t call on or walk with you in the park because of Crest. I did so because...I enjoy…” But his words tapered off as her mouth drew closer.

  Slowly, she pushed up on tiptoe. “I like you too.”

  Was it him or her? He couldn’t be certain but one of them closed the distance between them. Their lips pressed together, hers so soft and achingly warm as she melted into him.

  It was over in a moment as they slowly broke apart.

  He opened his eyes to see hers still closed, her long lashes a dark sweep across her cheeks.

  And, because he couldn’t resist, he placed another small kiss on the tip of her nose as he pulled back up to his full height. “Tabetha.”

  “Your Grace,” came the reply. But not from Tabetha.

  Her eyes snapped wide open even as her lips formed a small o.

  He looked to his left, back at the open doors to see Mrs. Claremont standing against the backdrop of candlelight, her hands firmly planted on her hips.

  Her hearing might have been going but her eyesight was dead on.

  “Mrs. Claremont,” he replied. “There is no need to fret. I can assure you that—” But he didn’t finish as another hulking shadow filled the door.

  Lord Darling.

  Every muscle in his body tightened and he let go of Tabetha, instinctually stepping in front of her.

&nb
sp; For a large man, Darling moved exceptionally well and he was around Mrs. Claremont and across the terrace in an instant, his face inches from Luke’s. “What have you done?”

  Anger dripped from every word, a cold fury making Luke stand straighter. “There is no need for such aggression.”

  “No?” Darling spit back.

  “Darius,” Tabetha admonished from behind Luke, her voice taking on the tone of a disappointed school teacher. Which almost made him smile. Almost. “Now is no time to lose your temper. And if you’re going to be angry with someone, it should be me, not His Grace.”

  Darius’s lips thinned over his teeth. “Not to worry. I’ve got plenty for both of you.”

  “You will not take this out on Tabetha,” Luke said, the words leaving his mouth before he’d considered them.

  Darius leaned closer. “You will not tell me how to behave toward my sister.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “My lord,” he started, forcing his voice lower, calmer. “I can assure you I have every intention of doing the noble and gentlemanly thing in this situation.”

  Darius leaned back, just a bit, as he crossed his arms over his massive chest. “Let’s be more specific than that.” His lip curled. “I’m growing tired of our little conversations. I’d like for this one to be the last.”

  Luke’s jaw clenched. “How inconvenient for you.”

  Darling’s finger came up. “I’ve been part of duel, Your Grace. Don’t think I won’t—”

  “Darius!” Tabetha said, inserting herself between him and her brother. “That is absolutely beastly and not true.” She looked back at Luke, her concern evident in every line in her face. Her look melted his heart. “He sounds like a lion but my brother is a lamb.”

  “I am not,” Darling growled. “I could tear you limb from limb.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Luke sighed. “To be specific so that we need not have another conversation,” he gave Darling a meaningful stare. “I plan to marry your sister posthaste.”

  “Good,” Darling grunted back, his posture deflating.

  “Good?” Tabatha asked, in a squeaky voice that shook a bit.

  “Yes. Good. This is a necessary—”

  “No.” Tabetha fired back. Then she looked over her shoulder at Luke once again. “No.”

  No? Of course they would marry. They’d been caught kissing in the garden as he’d fumbled though his explanation of his feelings. Why wouldn’t they marry?

  But before he could ask, Tabetha lifted her skirt and in a flurry of silk disappeared into the drawing room.

  10

  “No?” Darius demanded yet again.

  “No.” Tabetha’s chin notched up higher.

  “Truly, I wish at least one of you would expand your vocabulary,” Evelyn said from where she sat with her needlework.

  A full night and morning had passed since Tabetha rejected the duke’s proposal, but the battle between brother and sister was still going strong.

  Darius threw his hands up. “I just don’t understand how you can say no.”

  “Like this.” Tabetha arched her brows and crossed her arms. “No.”

  Darius growled. Tabetha glared.

  Mariah sighed. “You two are getting nowhere.” She turned a kind, beseeching gaze to her brother. “Darius, why don’t you ask Tabetha why she is so opposed to marrying a man she so obviously cares for.”

  Darius gave a harrumph, his glower still fixed on Tabetha.

  “And Tabetha,” Mariah continued. “Did you listen to what the duke had to say? If you had—”

  “She didn’t have the chance,” Darius said, his eyes narrowing on Tabetha. “She was too busy kissing him.”

  “So romantic,” Clarissa said with a dreamy sigh. Everyone turned to stare at her, including Darius. “Er, rather...it would be romantic if it wasn’t also so very improper.” She feigned a scowl of disapproval as she tsked and shook her head in Tabetha’s direction.

  Tabetha nearly laughed at her youngest sister’s antics but swallowed it down just in time. She was wearing a glare as fierce as Darius’s when his gaze returned to hers. She might have been quick to find the humor in most situations, but this was a serious matter.

  There were lives at stake.

  Well, maybe not lives. But there were futures and fortunes on the line. And besides, her heart was at stake—surely that counted for something.

  Darius took one look at her determined scowl and gave a surprisingly weary sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. “I just don’t understand you, Tabetha. You like the gentleman. We all know you do.”

  All she could manage was a nod in return. She was rather frightened that if she attempted to speak, she’d start blubbering like a ninny. Because she did like him. A lot. But she didn’t just like him. That much had become abundantly clear when she’d kissed him.

  She winced at the memory. Foolish girl. What had come over her? One moment she was a sane and rational creature, and the next she was swept off her feet, leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips as though...as though…

  As though it were her right.

  Shame made her insides spiral toward the ground. He’d only said he liked her. He hadn’t used the word courtship, or marriage—or love, for that matter.

  And he hadn’t kissed her.

  He’d been a perfect gentleman, making sure they didn’t stray out of sight of the others, keeping her close but not breaking any of society’s rules. He’d been proper, through and through.

  Of course he had. He was a duke. He didn’t get swept away by emotions. Clearly that was territory reserved solely for silly country bumpkins like herself.

  “I think what Darius means,” Evelyn said softly from where she was seated. “Is that if you do indeed like the man, and if you found him pleasing enough to return his...affections—” They all ignored Clarissa’s giggle at that. Evelyn arched her brows and continued, “Then why are you so resistant to the idea of marrying him?”

  Tabetha opened her mouth and shut it. Her heart felt like it was being torn in two, but she couldn’t show it.

  And she couldn’t tell them the truth, not without losing this battle with her brother.

  Because the truth was, she wasn’t resistant to the idea. The very thought of marrying the duke, of forever being at his side, on his arm, in his life…

  It was everything she could ever wish for.

  But not like this.

  She gave her head a quick shake as her siblings stared, willing her to explain. But she couldn’t, not without losing her control and possibly ruining the duke’s life by burdening him with a wife he did not wish for.

  Darius took a menacing step toward her, his arms crossed over his giant chest. “Unless, of course, you’re covering for the man and his attentions were not wanted. Did he take liberties with you, Tabetha?”

  Her eyes widened and Clarissa gave a loud gasp of outrage. At what point Clarissa had become such an ardent admirer of the duke was anyone’s guess, but she seemed to take just as much umbrage with that insinuation as Tabetha did.

  “Of course not. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along,” Tabetha said, her voice rising in outrage. “He did not kiss me. I kissed him.”

  The room fell silent after that. While she had been trying to convey that this was her fault and not his for the duration of the morning, she likely hadn’t said it so very clearly. Nor so very loudly.

  “Yes, well,” Darius grumbled, looking decidedly uncomfortable. “Be that as it may—”

  “Oh, Darius, be gentle with the girl,” Evelyn said. “Can’t you see she has feelings for the man?”

  Darius frowned at his wife. “But that’s precisely my point. If she has feelings for him, then she ought to marry him.”

  Evelyn shook her head, giving Tabetha an empathetic little smile.

  Well, at least Evelyn seemed to understand.

  “Tabetha needs to tell the duke she loves him,” Evelyn told Darius, still in that sympathetic,
knowing tone. “Then everything will sort itself out.”

  Tabetha stiffened. Evelyn did not understand. None of them did.

  “They can sort out their feelings when they’re wed.” Darius’s tone said he’d brook no arguments.

  Clearly for a moment there, he’d forgotten where he was.

  “But you cannot force her to marry him,” Clarissa said.

  “All she needs is time,” Mariah added quietly.

  Evelyn nodded. “That’s exactly it. They’ll work it out in the end. Young couples always do.”

  “But don’t you see? We are not a couple,” Tabetha interjected, tired of hearing herself and the duke spoken about like they were characters in a play. “We never have been. You know that as well as I do.”

  Her siblings were gaping at her and she realized her voice had grown too high and her eyes far too watery. She blinked back tears as she drew in a deep breath. “I was wrong to mistake his kindness for true intentions and I will not allow his nobility and honorable nature to be confused for...for love.”

  The word was difficult to get out, and now it seemed to echo in this room.

  Love. She loved him.

  What a fool she was. What kind of nitwit went and fell in love with a duke? He deserved a genteel, charming, impeccably mannered lady at his side as his duchess, and they both knew it.

  He liked her. He’d said as much. But friends liked one another too. It was not the same as love. Even she knew that.

  And she knew that now, better than ever, because she’d felt the difference. She liked a great many people, but there was only one person who made her feel as though she was walking on air when he was near. There was only one who made her feel like she was perfect just as she was. Who made her want to smile and laugh and tease and...and live. He made her want to live a life of passion, with intelligent conversations and secrets and private jokes. He made her want to try harder, and be better, to dream bigger and live larger.

  She let out a weary sigh that sounded just as heartbroken as she felt.