Duke of Storm

by Gaelen Foley

  “I am so glad to hear you feel that way,” Maggie said. Her pulse was pounding now that she’d come to the heart of the matter. “Because, as it happens, I was rather wondering…if you don’t mind…the next time you see His Grace at your club, perhaps it would be an appropriate gesture of goodwill if you could, um, introduce yourself to him? At least to show him we’re not all like Bryce around here.”

  “That,” he replied, “is an excellent idea, my dear.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “Yes, why not?” He eyed her curiously.

  Maggie beamed at his answer. “And then…once he’s become your acquaintance—if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, of course—maybe you could introduce him formally…to me?”

  “Aha.” Edward’s fingers slipped across the keys in a discordant jangle as he turned on the piano bench to stare at her. He started laughing and wagged a finger at her. “Clever girl. Oh, you Winthrop girls are such vixens. So quickly poor Bryce is replaced!”

  “Yes, but what an improvement, don’t you think?” She laughed along with him. She couldn’t stop grinning as she rocked back and forth on her toes, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “A girl could do worse.”

  “Well, by Jove,” he said softly, “if you’ve got to marry someone, might as well aim high, what?”

  “The debutante’s creed, dear brother.”

  “Quite so. How else could the likes of me have snared a beauty like your sister?” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “Imagine you, a duchess.”

  “You never know.” Maggie left her perch beside the pianoforte and went over to give him an affectionate half-hug while he plinked a few ivory keys. She kissed him atop his balding head. “Thank you, dearest Edward. You are truly a prince among men.”

  “Ah, those Winthrop girls,” he drawled as she twirled around and headed for the door, “always dragging a fellow into mischief.”

  Maggie laughed, her step light as she went on her way.

  CHAPTER 12

  The Country Dance

  Connor could not deny that Lady Maggie had been right. Her brother-in-law, Edward, Lord Birdwell, was a most amiable fellow.

  The portly, balding marquess had ambled over and introduced himself to Connor at the club, where he had been sitting alone, reading the Times.

  In all, Connor was a little amused to find Maggie’s plan progressing along so nicely, since this much of it was her doing.

  Tonight, precisely one week after Bryce’s challenging him to the duel, at the next Thursday night subscription ball at the Grand Albion, Connor was expecting Birdwell to provide the promised introduction.

  For his part, it was not altogether easy for him to walk into the place after last week’s explosion. He’d become even more of a curiosity now after the duel.

  The music did not stop playing when he walked in, but a significant number of people turned to stare.

  Thankfully, he did not have to stand around by himself for very long. Rivenwood and his beautiful bride, Serena, spotted him among the crowd and made their way over at once to greet him.

  “Amberley.” The pale-haired, silver-eyed, and decidedly mysterious Azrael, Duke of Rivenwood, tore his attention away from his raven-haired duchess to shake Connor’s hand.

  “Good to see you,” Connor replied.

  “Your Grace,” Serena greeted him with a knowing smile. “We hear you’ve been busy.”

  “Ah yes,” he said with a sigh, grinning at her. Rivenwood had himself a great beauty in his new bride, all bristling velvet lashes, rosy cheeks, and generous curves. Serena offered him a curtsy, and Connor bowed in turn.

  “So how have you been getting on?” Azrael asked discreetly, a knowing gleam in his quicksilver eyes.

  Serena gave Connor a cheeky poke in the arm. “Fancy that, darling,” she said to her husband, “our own neighbor getting into a duel. I never heard of such shocking behavior.”

  “Well, I didn’t start the thing,” Connor said.

  “I hear you ended it, though,” said Azrael.

  “And with some style,” Serena said, nodding.

  Connor frowned at her teasing, unsure how to take it.

  The duchess laughed. “Ah, do not be troubled, Your Grace. I’m merely delighted that my husband is not alone in being the oddment around here anymore.”

  “Welcome to the club, sir,” Rivenwood said.

  “Don’t worry, their morbid curiosity about you will pass,” she assured Connor.

  “I just hope I don’t get shot again,” he grumbled.

  “Yes, do try to avoid that,” Serena agreed.

  “I’ll drink to that.” Azrael lifted his glass, and Connor clanked his own with it gratefully, while the crowd milled around them, sending both men surreptitious glances.

  “Ah, Lord Birdwell,” Connor said, turning when he spotted his newest acquaintance approaching, his haughty wife on his arm.

  Lady Birdwell studied Connor guardedly. Behind her, peeking over her shoulder, Connor could just make out his lovely accomplice.

  Though Maggie was still somewhat hidden by her sister and brother-in-law, he could see her peeking over her sister’s shoulder at him. The intricate design of her chestnut hair was beautiful, entwined with strings of pearls that caught the light of the chandeliers.

  His heart skipped a beat, like a horse’s quick stumble beneath him.

  Edward gave Azrael a wary smile. “Your Grace.”

  Greetings were exchanged. Lady Birdwell curtsied to the Rivenwoods, and Serena curtsied back with a hint of irony dancing in her dark hazel eyes. Connor got the feeling she bore no great love for Maggie’s elder sister, and, indeed, seemed to take all the pretensions of Society as a lark.

  No wonder Azrael and she were so well suited for each other, Connor thought. The outsider and the blithe, daring beauty. He couldn’t help rather envying the couple’s effortless harmony with each other.

  Then Birdwell pulled his wife aside so that dainty Lady Maggie could come forth into view. Connor hid a dazzled gulp when he saw her.

  She looked absolutely ravishing in a pink ball gown with rosettes pinning up the overskirt at about knee level, to reveal a lacy white petticoat beneath. He could just make out the toes of her cream-colored dancing slippers.

  The gown had a generous sweep across her milky-white bosom, revealing far more of her tempting flesh tonight than the high-necked lace collar of the day gown she had been wearing at the arcade. It exposed the tops of her shoulders, and he was filled with a longing to kiss them.

  “Ahem, Amberley,” said Edward, “I’m not sure you’ve had the pleasure of meeting my womenfolk yet.”

  “No, I have not, my lord.”

  “Delia,” he said, turning first to his wife, then smiling conspiratorially at his sister-in-law, “Maggie. Allow me to present Connor Forbes, the Duke of Amberley. Your Grace, this is my wife, Delia, Lady Birdwell, and her sister, Lady Margaret Winthrop.”

  Connor bowed, his pulse surging as he tried to keep from openly gawking at Maggie. “Lady Birdwell. Lady Margaret. The honor is mine.”

  “Your Grace,” the sisters said in unison. They both curtsied to him, the marchioness bowing her head, but still eyeing him skeptically.

  Lady Maggie, however, blushed on cue like a rose. He saw with amusement that she had been telling the truth: she really was terrible at hiding her emotions. But he was delighted by her obvious excitement to see him again.

  The feeling was most definitely mutual.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Grace,” she said demurely—as though she’d never whacked him with her reticule, let alone shown him her charming ankles.

  As Connor met her sparkling gaze, it was all he could do to temper his smile. He felt oddly relieved to be with her again. At last there was one true ally for him in this place—never mind that he’d roped her into it.

  “Are you enjoying the ball this week, Your Grace?” her sister inquired.

  “A great deal more than last week, to be sure, Lady B
irdwell.”

  Delia’s lips quirked at his refusal to shy away from what everybody knew had happened.

  “What a frightful situation,” Maggie interjected, glancing worriedly at her sister, then back at him. “Is your side feeling better?”

  Connor brought a hand unconsciously to his still-bandaged wound. “Thank you, yes, Lady Margaret. I heal quickly.” He paused. “I was fortunate.”

  “I daresay it was Lord Bryce who was fortunate,” Birdwell mumbled.

  The others agreed.

  Just then, there was a pause in the music; a moment later, the caller announced a country dance.

  Serena turned to her lord with a radiant smile. “Shall we, darling?”

  Azrael tilted his head, shoulders drooping. “Must we?”

  “Oh, come, husband!”

  “Can’t we at least wait for the waltz? I don’t mind that one so much,” he protested, but he nevertheless let her lead him away by the hand as the others laughed.

  Connor turned to his “new” acquaintance once more and seized his opportunity. “Lady Margaret, would you do me the honor of a dance?”

  The slight, bell-shaped flare of her skirts swayed as she took a step toward him at once. “Why, I’d be delighted!”

  Her sister glanced warily from one to the other. “Um, that could start another duel.”

  “Doesn’t bother me,” he said. “Though, next time, I don’t think I’ll miss.”

  “I can dance with whomever I please,” Maggie said pertly to her sister.

  The marchioness stared at her, as though sizing her up. Then Delia just shrugged, looking miffed.

  Connor offered Maggie his arm and she took it. Her touch did things to him. Made his blood leap, his pulse quicken.

  The Birdwells did not join them, staying behind as Connor escorted his petite partner toward the lines forming up for the country dance.

  Lady Maggie held her chin high, as though acutely aware of everyone staring at them.

  He wondered if she knew this was his first foray onto a dance floor as a member of the London ton. He was no more enthusiastic about dancing than Azrael was, but he’d had the usual training for a lad with aristocratic bloodlines. It wasn’t as though he’d embarrass himself.

  Ah, but fair Lady Margaret, she carried herself like a swan. Her grace was impeccable. Even his mother would be impressed, Connor thought.

  He was proud to be seen with such an elegant beauty on his arm.

  As an added reward, her choice of him as her partner this evening was a bold and obvious rebuke to Lord Bryce for his behavior at last week’s event.

  It took courage, he thought, to stand with him against this roomful of strangers.

  “Well?” Connor murmured discreetly as they joined the queue of dancers lining up with their partners for the opening promenade. “Was your sister correct? Do you think Bryce will call me out again for asking you to dance?”

  “If he does, you have my permission to shoot him this time,” she said wryly.

  “Huzzah,” he replied.

  Her smile widened. “I very much doubt it, though, considering I broke off our courtship several days ago.”

  Connor froze. “Did you, now?”

  She nodded sweetly.

  He could not hide his satisfaction on hearing this news. “Bravo, my lady. Sounds as though we have much to discuss.”

  “Yes.” She gave him a meaningful nod. “I have obtained the information you wanted, as well.”

  “Not here,” he murmured, then glanced around and gave her a look that said, Too many people.

  Perhaps later this evening, they could manage to steal a few minutes apart from this throng to speak privately.

  She nodded, but could not resist one cloaked comment. “I will tell you this, though: it’s all good news.”

  He glanced at her in surprise; she smiled with a coy shrug.

  Then the music began, and the promenade line began streaming forward.

  They had to follow the row of couples striding up the center of the dance floor, hand in hand. Maggie’s gloved fingers rested atop Connor’s as he led the way, paying watchful attention for the next moves expected of him.

  “Is your wound really healing well, or were you just saying that in front of the others?” she asked with a fretful glance.

  “I wasn’t lying,” he answered. “I am still keeping it bandaged, though, so I won’t be dancing too vigorously.”

  She looked at him in alarm. “Are you sure you want to do this? Perhaps we should sit down—”

  Her words broke off when he scowled at her for being a mother hen.

  “Or not.” She arched a brow, then looked away and licked her pretty lips. “Well,” she said after a moment, “at least now we are officially acquainted, Your Grace.”

  “Yes,” he agreed as they took a playful backward hop with the rest of the line. “That will make things easier.”

  “God bless Edward,” she said.

  “He is a good man. But I must ask you—” Alas, his question had to wait, for the two lines duly separated then, leaving them facing each other with five feet of dance floor between them.

  Lady Maggie stood across from him now, twitching her skirts a little with a saucy glow in her eyes, and Lord, he enjoyed the view.

  “Why have you not signaled for me, dear lady?” he murmured when they stepped together again briefly. “You left me bereft all week.”

  “I knew that I would see you soon enough. Besides, the news is not all that exciting, as I said. And…” She hesitated. “To tell the truth…I was afraid.”

  They backed apart again on the beat, while Connor pondered this.

  “Not of me, surely?” he asked in a soft tone when he’d captured her again, one hand around her waist for a slow, stately, and almost intimate spin.

  “No, not of you, of course,” she said warmly, gazing up at him with that open sincerity that he’d already grown used to somehow.

  It was an enchanting quality, this artless vulnerability of hers, and as for her sweet body, she felt so delicate in his arms. She barely came up to his heart, and everything in him wanted to shelter her from a world that held more darkness than the innocent creature knew.

  “I told you, Your Grace, I am not very daring. I’m glad to help you figure out who’s been trying to—you know. But it did not seem like such an emergency, since I knew I would be seeing you here tonight. Why risk the scandal? Besides,” she added as they changed directions, “there’s not much to tell. I’m glad you didn’t waste your time on this list, because it would’ve merely sent you chasing down a rabbit trail. I’m afraid there’s nothing there.”

  “Hmm.” They parted again, but as the dance picked up in tempo, it was impossible to discuss much of anything, especially since Connor had to concentrate on the half-forgotten motions.

  God knew, he had not had much occasion for dancing over the past decade. But he took his cue as discreetly as he could from the other gents in the line.

  At one point, while they waited for alternating couples to sashay past, weaving back and forth, Connor noticed a pretty auburn-haired lady waving eagerly to Maggie, trying to get her attention.

  Connor pointed her out, and Maggie gasped when she saw her, waving back. “Trinny!”

  “Who’s that?” he asked when it was their turn to join hands and sashay along.

  “That’s my friend, Lady Roland. Oh, I’m so happy to see her out in Society again! She had a baby—her first—at the end of February, so she’s been in confinement for ages. ’Twas a boy,” she added.

  “Well done,” he replied.

  “Ah, she’s very dear. I’ll have to introduce you to her and her husband, Gable, Lord Roland. You’ll like him. He’s very, hmm, easygoing.”

  “Like Edward?”

  “No, Gable’s much more of a cynic.”

  Connor smiled. When Maggie flashed another fond grin in the new mother’s direction, he noted the glow in her eyes. Her affection for her friend made her
even lovelier.

  “What?” she murmured when she noticed him gazing at her as they stood still again.

  “You look very beautiful tonight.”

  The compliment appeared to startle her. “Why thank you, charming sir. You’re looking rather dashing yourself.”

  He arched a brow, enjoying this young lady’s company more than anything he’d experienced yet in his new life as a duke.

  Far too soon, the figures of the dance pulled them away from each other, and, much to his surprise, Connor felt a twinge of jealousy when he had to surrender her to a smiley, yellow-haired chap.

  “Lord Sidney!” she greeted him.

  “Why, Lady Maggie, my dear! Heard you gave ol’ Bryce the sack, you little vixen,” the man teased her. “You must tell me everything.”

  She laughed. “What, didn’t you already hear the details at your club?”

  “There were wagers on it, actually.”

  “I say!”

  “Couldn’t take him anymore, eh?” the smiley chap jested, while Connor grew increasingly annoyed at his familiarity with her.

  It did not help that this Sidney fellow was unreasonably good-looking. The man-about-town sort of rake that made ladies swoon.

  “Still,” Lord Sidney continued, “glad as I’m sure you must be to get rid of him, isn’t it a bit soon to be fraternizing with the enemy?” The chap sent a mischievous glance in Connor’s direction—and promptly caught him eavesdropping.

  Never mind that Connor was a trained intelligence officer.

  Sidney flashed a knowing grin, and Connor quickly looked away—but not before he noted that there was nothing but harmless mirth in the man’s eyes. He realized then that Sidney’s roguish attitude toward Maggie was that of a friend, not an interested suitor.

  Connor harrumphed anyway, and thankfully managed to look elsewhere before Maggie also realized he’d been listening. He smiled at the woman he’d been paired with for the moment.

  She regarded him with uncertainty, while he continued eavesdropping on his erstwhile partner’s conversation.