Wagers of a Duke's Daughter (The Duchess's Investigative Society Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  “Whatever do you mean?” She stepped to the side and he shadowed her steps.

  “The other night. With the knife and the cards.” He lowered his voice. “And the dressing as a boy.”

  Her lips parted and he forced his gaze up from them. How had he never noticed how kissable this wallflower was before?

  “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  “I know it was you, my lady. I’m no fool.”

  “No, but you are mad.”

  “I’m not the one dressing as a member of the opposite sex, getting attacked, and having to be rescued by yours truly.”

  “I could have fended them off,” she blurted.

  He allowed himself a smug smile. “So you admit it was you.”

  Her shoulders dropped. “Fine. It was me. But you cannot tell a soul.”

  “Oh I won’t. But I want to know everything. Every little detail as to how you spend your time at Pidgeon’s and exactly why a young, wealthy lady such as yourself would do such a thing.”

  “Everything?” she echoed, as though he was asking her to bare her very soul to him.

  He nodded, unable to keep the grin from his face. He wouldn’t mind her baring her soul to him, somehow. He had a suspicion there was so much more to Lady Demeter Fallon than suffering the ravages of hearing loss and an ability to cling to walls.

  “Everything,” he said in low tones.

  Chapter Six

  Everything.

  He could have little idea how much Demeter longed to blurt it all out. To spill all her secrets to someone. Anyone.

  Most specially Blake.

  Lying to her sisters—or at least hiding things—didn’t sit well with her, but she knew how they’d react if she confessed to her nighttime activities. She’d witnessed Chastity’s reaction to Cassie when she’d become involved in a dangerous investigation last year. Their investigative society, originally put together by their late-mother to help other women, was usually involved in simple matters like stolen items, but Cassie had wound up tangling with greedy criminals who had threatened them all.

  And while her oldest sister acted as a surrogate mother to them all she could do without being scolded at her age. Besides, the last thing she wanted to do was worry Chastity whilst so close to her baby’s birth. She worried enough about them all as it was.

  There was also the matter of her feelings toward Blake—feelings that were welling to the surface at present. How could they not when he stood so close, all handsome and dressed to perfection. Each breath she tried to take felt like it was being stolen from her and she had to fight to draw it in. The scent of sandalwood and fresh night air clung to him, making her feel faint. It took all her strength not to grip his arms and beg him to hold her.

  He wanted to know everything. Of course, he didn’t really mean that. She couldn’t reveal every secret nook and cranny of her heart to him. The man would likely run away terrified.

  Actually, that might not be a bad idea. At least then she would not have to explain to him why she had been at the gaming hell the other night.

  “What’s so amusing?” he asked, his face so close she could rise onto tiptoes and press her lips to his.

  “Nothing,” she said, remaining firmly on flat feet despite all temptation.

  She glanced around one of the ferns, sensing several pairs of eyes upon her. Most of them involved her family. Cassie grinned eagerly in her direction whilst Aunt Sarah made some sort of gesture that she was fairly certain could be considered lewd. She rolled her eyes.

  Wonderful. Now her family had hopes something would occur between her and Blake. Unlikely. He might be curious about her activities but once she’d told him all, he’d be off to find his next conquest.

  Rakes like Blake did not pursue wallflowers like her.

  He twisted to follow her gaze. “I take it your family does not know what you have been doing.”

  “No, and I should like to keep it that way. They are protective of me.”

  “As they should be. Or have you forgotten you were attacked and in need of saving that night?”

  His eyes were so blue. She often pondered about his coloring—the dark hair with the blue eyes. It was as though God had decided to add a little extra perfection, just to taunt all the women in the world.

  “My lady?” he prompted.

  “Oh.”

  She forced her attention to his neatly tied neckcloth and the tiny amethyst pin pushed through it. Even that had her entranced. She imagined pulling it loose and brushing the warmth of his neck, maybe even pressing a kiss there and feeling his throat bob in response. Lordy, what a fool she was making of herself.

  Lifting her chin, she inhaled a silent breath and forced herself to meet his gaze calmly, much like she would look at an opponent. After all, he was practically threatening to reveal all should she not explain her behavior. He could be considered the enemy.

  “I wasn’t in need of saving. Not really.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “I had my knife,” she protested.

  “Which you used upon me.” He gestured to the scratch on his cheek.

  She winced. “Yes. I am so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to wound you. Does it hurt?”

  “A mere scratch, Demeter. Hardly painful.”

  They were technically acquainted enough for him to use her name but it still jarred her, making her stomach do a little twirl. “Still, it looks as though it hurt.”

  “Just be glad you did not have that blade turned upon you.”

  She frowned. The man clearly thought her truly useless. “I can stand up for myself you know.”

  She squared her shoulders. Her feelings for Blake were not going to weaken her. She wouldn’t let them. And she would not let him bully her into giving up gambling. For the first time in a long time she felt useful and, well, excited by life. It was an unusual sensation.

  His smile slanted. “I think my face would prefer you did not do that in future.”

  “That only happened because you got in my way!”

  “Because you needed rescuing.”

  “I did not need—” She huffed out a breath and closed her eyes briefly when she spied Chastity waddling over to join her sister and aunt, then saying something about how handsome they looked together.

  “Can we do this elsewhere?” she pleaded. “People are talking about us.”

  He followed her gaze, then peered at her. “They are?”

  She nodded.

  Blake’s brow furrowed then his eyes widened. “Ah. You read lips.”

  “Well, yes,” she mumbled, tugging the edge of a fern leaf between her fingers and smoothing her fingertips down it. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her hearing loss and how it still impacted her to this day. She already looked fool enough in front of him as it was.

  “Shall we take a stroll about the gardens?”

  She looked to the open doors. So long as they remained in sight of the windows, no one would think poorly of them or leap to conclusion—unless one counted Aunt Sarah of course, who could be guaranteed to practically fly to the nearest scandalous conclusion. But at least they would not see her blushing and simpering like a debutante.

  “Yes. Let us take a stroll.”

  “And you can tell me everything,” he reminded her.

  “Yes,” she lied softly. “I’ll tell you everything.”

  ***

  The air was scented with hyacinths and the elegant and vast gardens of the assembly rooms were lit with more lanterns than Vauxhall, leaving few shady spots for illicit liaisons.

  Blake wouldn’t be impressed by lack of opportunity to get to know a lady better usually but he rather appreciated it today. Lady Demeter was a far cry from the usual women he associated with, not least because she wielded a knife and disguised herself as a boy.

  Plenty gossiped of her status as a spinster and lack of prospects despite her rank, and he had to conclude her to be an innocent. Usually he’d assume someone o
f her breeding to protect her reputation most fiercely but what he had seen the other night flung those assumptions aside. A woman worried for her reputation did not enter gaming hells, alone, and in disguise.

  However, the naïve air about her didn’t fade with that knowledge. It could be her slender frame or the perpetual blush on her cheeks. Whatever it was, he’d wager she was new to being daring, and he’d be a fool to get himself too entangled with her, no matter how sweet and pink her lips were or how he felt the warmth from their dancing penetrate the cool spring air, reaching its fingers out to him as if to lure him in.

  Come touch me, it said. Come feel the warmth properly. Feel my softness and draw me close.

  He gritted his teeth and gestured to a stone bench tucked against a fortress of carefully rounded box trees. She sat, slowly and reluctantly and he heard her sigh. She did not confess as easily as anticipated. In fact, she fought him at every moment, despite them both knowing the truth of her actions. He’d envisaged pleading, a few tears perhaps. Instead, she offered arguments as to her capabilities with a dagger.

  He couldn’t help himself. Lady Demeter Fallon had him intrigued.

  “What do you want to know?” she asked, tugging one glove from her hand, then the other, laying them carefully out upon her lap and flexing her fingers. He eyed the long, slender digits and shook away any thought of how they might feel against his skin.

  “Why were you at Pidgeon’s?”

  “To play cards, of course.”

  “Of course,” he mimicked. “Except you could play cards at any dinner party or with friends.”

  “Not for coin I cannot.”

  “That isn’t true.” He knew many a woman who had found herself in huge sums of debt thanks to her gambling addiction. He had no doubt a woman as skilled at cards as Demeter could earn vast sums from many members of the ton.

  “It’s different playing with friends.”

  “Do you need money? Is that why you were in disguise? Is your father in financial trouble?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that.” She peered at the backs of her hands, then brought one up to nibble on the end of a finger.

  “God’s teeth, woman, you are not making this easy.”

  “Am I meant to make this easy?” she shot back.

  He pressed his lips together to smother a grin. Oh, he liked it when she did that—shot fire at him. Few women did. Most swooned into his arms or crawled over him either to get at his wealth or body. He didn’t mind usually but it had begun to get a little tedious.

  “Why do you care anyway?” she continued. “You are not my protector.”

  “I hasten to point out that I did protect you from those men that night—”

  “I could have seen them off myself.”

  “And it would be remiss of me to allow you to continue such behaviors now that I am aware of them.”

  “Allow me?” She twisted so she could meet his gaze head on. “Allow me?” She prodded his chest with a finger. “You, Blake, scarcely know me. What on earth do you mean, allow me?”

  He grabbed the lone digit and held it still, making her gasp. Her familiarity didn’t surprise him. Everyone called him Blake—from the lowest ranking members of the ton to the highest. And as a duke’s daughter she could call him a rat and he’d still have to accept it.

  “Very well, I put that poorly indeed. What I meant was I am duty bound to warn you against such behaviors. As a gentleman.”

  Demeter snorted. “You are hardly a gentleman.” She tore her finger from his grasp and stuffed her hands back into her gloves. Or at least tried. Her fingers wound up in the wrong holes and the white tips flapped about comically while she fought with them.

  Blake took the glove from her and carefully directed her hand into it, easing each finger into the right place then drawing the silk down her slender forearm. Wordlessly, he worked on the second glove and settled it over her elbow. He ran a finger inside the seam and she shivered.

  “You are cold,” he stated.

  “No.”

  He met her gaze. His heart gave a sudden thud against his chest, the sensation so unexpected he had to gulp down a breath. He scanned her gaze, though he could not be certain what he was searching for. Answers, he supposed.

  How had he never noticed this woman before? Not properly at least. Of course he’d been aware of her. How could he not be? She was rich and at the top of society. But he’d never truly noticed her. Never spotted the fire in her eyes or the determination in her bearing.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” she finally said, her tone so low he had to strain to hear her.

  “Perhaps not.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I wanted excitement.”

  But of course she did. Damn it. Could she not have said something else? Like, I was following a lover there or it was an entire accident and I will never do it again or even do anything remotely interesting so you can forget about me entirely.

  “And coin,” he reminded her in the hopes she might persuade him she was entirely uninteresting. Perhaps she wished to pay for new jewels or something predictable.

  “Well, yes that too.” She twined her gloved fingers together. “I am patroness of a children’s hospital and they suffered a fire recently. I’m trying to raise money for the repairs.”

  “Ah.” He supposed that cause could be considered unexciting but it also made her too damned noble. “So you dressed as a boy to win money for your charity and to experience some excitement?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose so.”

  “Do you do it often?”

  “I’ve only done it three times so far.”

  Three times? Dear God. The woman was either bold or insane. Maybe a little of both. And he liked that far too much.

  “Will you do it again?”

  She raised her chin. “If you do not give away my secret, then yes,” she said firmly. “I very much plan on returning.”

  Blake ran a hand over his face. He could question her about her time there. See if she knew anything and then wash his hands of her. After all, it was up to her father or her brother to look after her, not him. He met her wide, pleading gaze and groaned inwardly.

  “I will keep your secret,” he vowed. “But you will owe me.”

  She nodded so eagerly he regretted his words, his instinct to use her to his advantage. His gut told him she would be useful to his investigation into his cousin, though he had not quite figured out how yet.

  His gut also warned him he should not be getting further tangled with this woman—though he couldn’t figure out how this sweet but determined woman would cause him any trouble. Not yet anyway.

  Chapter Seven

  “A Mr. Blake to see you, my lady.”

  Demeter froze mid cake slice and peered at the butler who offered no sign that this was anything unusual. To him, she supposed it was not, though the chances of any of them entertaining male visitors was slim. They had, admittedly, entertained several visitors this afternoon, which was to be expected, given it was the start of the Season, but few were of the male variety.

  She caught her aunt and Eleanor share a look, then swiftly abandon their slices of cake on plates. They rose from the little cluster of chairs they’d tugged around the coffee table after her brother Anton and his wife left for the day.

  It seemed it wasn’t going to be just the three of them after all.

  “Where are you going?” Demeter grabbed Eleanor’s sleeve before she could escape.

  Her sister offered a knowing smile. “You danced together last night. He’s hardly calling for me now, is he?”

  She looked to Aunt Sarah. “Aunt?”

  “I shall be in the next room. All entirely proper.”

  Demeter frowned. As if Blake had ever done anything entirely proper in his whole life. Yes, she supposed there was something vaguely appealing about his protective attitude last night but that did not change anything. She recalled the slight alarm on his face when she’d admitted to attending the clu
b several times already. If she hadn’t been fearful of him revealing her secret, she might have even liked that he worried for her.

  “I do not think you should be encouraging this, Aunt,” Demeter said. “He’s a rake and everyone knows it.”

  “I have an instinct about this man.” Aunt Sarah’s eyes gained a far-off look that Demeter recognized all too well.

  “Oh no.” She shook her head vigorously. “You have no instincts about him at all. Mr. Blake has always been a rake and always will be, and I have no interest in him.”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I do not,” she protested.

  “I know.” Aunt Sarah patted the back of her hand. “Now brush the crumbs from your gown.” She leaned in and before Demeter realized what she was doing, her aunt gave her cheeks a pinch.

  “Ouch!”

  “Better.” Aunt Sarah looked to Eleanor who nodded.

  “Better.”

  Both family members scurried from the room and Demeter blew out a breath, eyed the slice of cake mournfully and patted her stomach. Later, she promised it. Later.

  Before she had gathered herself, the butler returned with Blake. Demeter could not decide if she preferred him in his evening or day wear. The emerald green waistcoat flattered the slight tan of his skin and matched perfectly with his fawn trousers. A gold chain hung from one pocket, highlighting the gold embroidery of said waistcoat. His hessians gleamed and he looked entirely put together.

  And she still had crumbs on the front of her gown.

  She rose and tried to subtly flick one away but he caught sight of the movement and his lips quirked. Was it not enough that he already made her feel entirely at sea when around him? Did she also have to suffer the humiliation of looking as though she had been scarfing down cake like a half-starved waif? No matter that it was close to the truth.

  After entertaining swathes of society today there had been little time to eat, and the delicate nibbling expected of a Duke’s daughter hardly satisfied one’s empty stomach. Most especially after a night at Almack’s, where the fare was always desperately simple for some reason. Perhaps the patronesses did not want the dancers looking bloated.