Anthony stared at James Hayden VI, the Marquess of Denhallow, and did not say a word. Denhallow was another man he didn’t care for, mainly because Denhallow had never met attention he didn’t adore while Anthony strived to remain in the shadows, seeking the company of friends over spectators.
James was not deterred by Anthony’s glare at all. He even decided to settle farther into his seat before he grinned. “I say you change your mind.”
“Leave, Denhallow,” Benedict warned, but not because he would do anything himself. He clearly saw Anthony’s anger rising. The man was lucky a servant had already taken away his knife.
Denhallow, ever willing to tempt death, ignored Benedict. “How much to see Rosamund come to an end? Would a hundred pounds suffice?”
Anthony didn’t think. He grabbed Denhallow by his collar and pulled him forward.
The entire dining room went quiet. No one moved.
“Make another offer like that and I’ll kill you for free.”
Denhallow had been surprised, but then he started to laugh. He was often crazed. He enjoyed threats and would jump at the opportunity to duel with Anthony, if only so he could later say that he did and survived—if he survived.
Anthony refused to give the man what he wanted, which was simply attention.
So, he stood and left the room. A crowd at the entrance of the dining room broke apart when he approached, backing away from him.
He started for the library.
Benedict followed close. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your doing,” Anthony said. It was his own fault. Why had he challenged Rosamund so publicly?
He knew why. He’d been angry on Valiant’s behalf.
Benedict was right to suspect him of being ‘too kind’ to the woman. Anthony didn’t know how to explain his attraction to the lady, an attraction that went beyond appearance, but it was there.
Benedict grabbed his shoulder and gave him a grin. “Next time, we go to dinner at my in-laws.”
Anthony groaned at the thought as he settled into a chair. “I’ll not intrude on your family but thank you for the invitation.” The room was very small, and Anthony didn’t think they’d be disturbed here.
“Nonsense. You’re family, my brother, and it would have been official had you married my sister.” Benedict settled into a chair across from him. “You need a family of your own. Really, Arabella and I have been speaking about it, and we’ve begun to compile a list of women we believe—”
Anthony crossed his arms. “Thank you, but… I’ve already asked for someone else’s aid.”
Benedict, who’d been leaning back in his seat, sat straight up. “What do you mean? Who is to help you find a wife?”
“Lady Valiant,” he said.
Benedict blinked and then nodded. “I suppose the lady is as good a choice as any. She’s very respected, even with her husband’s affairs becoming public. She knows nearly everyone.” After a beat, he said, “I suppose she’s doing this as payment for defending her?”
“Something like that.” Anthony wouldn’t tell his friend the truth of the matter. He didn’t want Benedict to know he’d backed the woman into a corner just so he could get her in his bed.
Or rather, just to spend time with her.
That realization unnerved Anthony enough to agree with Benedict. Perhaps, it actually was time to settle down.
But he couldn’t think of a wife he’d want over Valiant’s company. He already planned to refuse everyone she presented.
Two years ago, he should have challenged her to more than a night. He should have made it a week or even a month.
But then again, he’d never expected her to accept the challenge.
“If only the woman herself were younger,” Benedict said. “Then you could simply marry her.”
“Valiant is not that advanced in her age,” he said, though he didn’t actually know her age. He suspected she was twenty-five at least. It was why he’d given her that age anyway, just to rattle her.
“She gave Beaumont no heirs,” Benedict reminded him with a serious expression. “You couldn’t even consider a match with her. It would not bear fruit.”
Anthony always forgot that Valiant’s marriage with Beaumont had borne no children. They’d been married for years. Surely, with a man a virile as Beaumont and a woman as beautiful as Valiant, they’d coupled enough times to produce at least one child.
Why didn’t Valiant have any children?
Was she barren? His mind didn’t want to accept it. There had to be another reason.
But what could there be?
Now the question pressed upon him so heavily that Anthony swore to get an answer if it killed him.
“Anthony,” Benedict called. “You’re not thinking to ask for the lady’s hand, are you?”
“Of course not,” Anthony said. And he truly meant it. Valiant was not for him. Someone who believed in love as much as she did deserved it in return, and Anthony had no love to give. “The lady is only helping me to find a wife.”
“Well,” Benedict said. “Arabella and I will have to host a dinner so that I can give the lady a helping hand.” He grinned. “Regale her with stories of our childhood.”
Anthony had been about to tell Benedict that he wished him to do no such thing.
But then he thought better of it. An intimate dinner was just the sort of event where he could work on softening her toward him.
For Anthony intended to have her. He only hoped that when he did, she’d stay for much longer than a night.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 7
“Who did you say this woman was again?” Valiant asked as she stared at the women’s magazine two days later at breakfast.
Everly, who sat next to Asher, grinned. “I told you I knew the best woman for the job, did I not?”
“What job?” Asher asked with narrowed eyes.
Everly placed a hand over his. “Just a little matchmaking, my dear. Nothing more.”
Asher settled and visibly rubbed his thumb over the back of his wife’s hand.
As though his entire family was not sitting at the table.
Valiant was lost in the act for a moment. Noah had done that to her on occasion, but only publicly, all in an effort to appear like a dutiful husband for her sake.
And he had been dutiful. She’d been the one to fail him.
“What does it say?” Brinley asked, breaking into her thoughts.
Valiant read aloud, “Villain or Hero? When one considers such words, it is best not to get carried away with definitions, but to think of what or rather who defined such words. Oh, Achilles, great hero of the Trojan War, and yet he kills Briseis’ family and takes the woman for a bride. Villain or hero? King David killed Goliath, yet he, too, stole his wife. While admired, these men were not without flaws. Which brings us to the discussion the Duke of C. Claimed to have dueled his father for honor and further accused of ridding society of men few miss if they were being true to themselves. Villain or hero? Oh, Reader, with a face like his and a history that cannot be so easily forgotten, I’m ever inclined to believe him to be both! And whoever said one had to choose between one or the other? A battle between light and darkness roars in this man, who can be quite beastly at times. And what better a challenge this Season than to become the one lady in the world capable of helping to pull him farther into the light? I can’t seem to name one. Can you?”
Valiant sighed and put the magazine down.
“Well,” Lore said with wide eyes. “Whoever the Duke of C is, he’d better be prepared to be approached by every silly woman in the city who thinks she can tame him.”
“Duke of C?” Asher asked with a lifted brow. “Please, tell me you are not intending to help Lord Cartelle find a wife.”
“Why not?” Valiant asked. “A good wife has been known to tame a beast or two.” She stared at all her brothers for a meaningful moment.
Asher continued to rub Everly’s hand but said nothing.
; Hero said, “I don’t think the words of a magazine enough to get what you want.”
“I only need one woman,” Valiant said. “The right woman.”
Who was at least twenty-five.
Who was neither too tall nor too short.
Who was beautiful.
Who was smart and clever.
A more impossible feat she’d never met.
“It will work,” Brinley said. “Women read that rag more than anything else. Soon, mothers and daughters will be sitting in their drawing rooms discussing this very page, pitting each daughter against the others in the hopes of being the victor.” She would know better than anyone, for Valiant had never met a more vicious woman than Lady Tellock. Thankfully, both her daughters had married and married well, calming the lady immensely. Brinley’s sister, Arabella, was the Countess of Dalewell.
Hero frowned at his wife. “You make it sound like a battlefield.”
Brinley lifted a brow. “Believe you me, the Season is always a battlefield.”
“Yes,” Beatrix agreed. “The only difference is that you never see the blood that is shed. The wounds are internal, made by vicious words and acts.”
A servant came in and gave Asher a note. Then Asher handed it to Everly. “Apparently, the family has been invited to Lord and Lady Dalewell’s for dinner this evening.”
“All of us?” Valiant asked. It was uncommon for Arabella to invite Brinley’s extended family.
“Yes, all of us,” Asher said.
Valiant, Brinley, and Beatrix spent the rest of the morning making calls. They were very glad when someone brought up the story that had been printed in the magazine. Brinley had been right. It was all the mothers could talk about.
She was anxious to see Cartelle and gain his reaction. For the first time that week, she was feeling more than hopeful. She had no doubt she would win.
When the family arrived at Benedict and Arabella’s home that evening, she was surprised to see Cartelle in the drawing and didn’t hesitate to cut right across the room to him.
He stood by the fireplace looking like everything the secret writer had written, both villain and hero. Masculine beauty wrapped in a wealth of black. His hair shined brilliantly and was slicked back to reveal his widow’s peak. A lock spilled loose, which she knew he’d not done purposefully, yet it still managed to make his appearance all the more dashing.
His gaze sharpened as she approached, but his expression held great arrogance.
Valiant didn’t care. She was quite pleased with herself. She was almost vibrating with joy. “Did you read it?”
Keen gray eyes roamed her face and lower before returning to hold her stare. “Read what?”
“The woman’s magazine,” she nearly shouted, sure he knew exactly what she was speaking about and was purposefully trying to aggravate her.
Was he teasing her?
It was hard to tell when his expressions told her nothing, drastically different from when they’d been alone earlier that week.
“Why would I read a woman’s magazine?” he asked.
She balled her fists at her side to stop herself from crossing her arms as she often saw her brothers do. “Surely, you’ve heard at least?”
“Heard what?” Again, she could not guess what went on in his mind. “What exactly should I have been listening for?”
Her shoulders fell. “Have women not been… different toward you?”
“Different?” Something flashed in his eyes, but again, she wasn’t sure what to make of him.
∫ ∫ ∫
0 8
Anthony was playing with her.
Of course, he’d read the silly article in her lady’s rag. Arabella had read it. Then she’d shared it with her husband. Then Benedict had shared it with him.
Whoever had written the article had a very clever mind and, for a moment, he had wondered if Valiant’s little plan would work.
Behind them, the others moved around the room speaking to one another, but he’d barely given any of them a glance once his gaze caught Valiant’s.
She was lovely, and he’d felt a jolt in his heart when she’d looked at him. Her expression had been unlike any he’d ever seen given to him. Open joy. Nothing hidden or held back. Without malice or other intentions.
She’d entered the room, wearing a beautiful dark blue gown, had turned her blonde head toward him and smiled.
He’d been trying to make sense of his reaction ever since.
“Were you about town today at all?” Valiant asked anxiously, her dainty chin lifted so their gazes could lock.
Her skin was so pale. He wanted to touch it. Kiss it. Lick it. “I was,” he said.
“Did any ladies approach you?” she asked.
“Ladies have always been known to approach me.” He nearly grinned but pulled it back just in time.
She frowned at him. He could see that she’d lost some of her earlier confidence.
He wanted to win, but he didn’t wish to break her spirit. “There were a few mothers who didn’t herd their daughters to the other side of the street when I came around the corner.” That happened more times than he liked to recall.
Valiant’s brows furrowed further. “Do they truly do that to you?”
He shrugged. “They are often concerned I might snatch their daughters away to never be seen again.” At least, that was how it often seemed.
Her blue gaze narrowed. “How foolish. You are not that terrible.”
“How are you so sure?” he asked.
She smiled. “I’ve been alone with you twice and yet here I am, unharmed.” She held out her hand as evidence of her presence.
“I’ve been with many women alone,” he told her. “But that is different.”
“Is it?” Valiant asked, tilting her head. “I believe that is what we shall work on. We shall change the way people perceive you.”
“And how will we do that?” He liked how she’d made them sound like a team, though Anthony had no intentions of helping her to her goal.
“You shall start by spending time with women in public settings. At parties and dinners. You shall hold conversations in circles with unmarried women.”
Her plan seemed sound but terrible at the same time. “And speak of what?” Bedding was one thing. A casual conversation was entirely another. He couldn’t even stop himself from flirting with Lady Goody and the woman could barely suffer his presence. “Whatever am I to say to these women?”
Valiant’s eyes widened and then warmed. “You don’t know? I thought you cleverer than that.”
He started to smile.
Her eyes moved to his lips.
His smile faded as his mind went on to imagine him crushing his mouth to hers. Parting her lips with his tongue.
“Lord Cartelle?” Lore called as he came over, his wife on his arm. “We were just discussing the Trojan Wars. Perhaps you have an opinion on Achilles? Was he a hero?”
Anthony actually got along with the gentleman, at least more than he did with either Asher or Hero. Hero, he suspected, still thought Anthony to be pining for his wife and Asher… A man didn’t challenge a man he admired to a duel. Only one he wished to maim in some way.
“I wouldn’t wish to offend anyone you might call an ancestor, so I must decline to answer.”
Lore chuckled. “Wise decision.”
“Valiant,” Brinley said. “Arabella wishes to show you the fan Benedict got her from Asia.”
Valiant brightened with interest. She gave Anthony a parting look before she allowed her sister-in-law to take her away.
Anthony wasn’t sure if this fan actually existed, but he knew it had not been the reason Valiant was led away.
Lore moved closer to him and said, “My brothers do not wish to make a mess of this, so I volunteered to speak to you myself.”
Anthony suspected he knew where this was leading but decided to do nothing to stop it. “What have your brothers to say?”
Lore wore a pleasant expression, but
his words were not. “You’re not to ask for Valiant’s hand. Though she, my wife, and Beatrix are quite excited at the prospect of you finding love, the duke and the general have forbidden you from finding it with our sister.”
Anthony glanced toward Lore’s brothers and found them both watching the exchange. They had no reason to worry. He had never allowed himself to consider doing so. He was not the gentleman Valiant needed or deserved, but Anthony had no intention of sharing his inner thoughts.
Anthony lifted a brow. “The duke. The general. And what have you to say on the matter?”
Lore crossed his arms. “I’ve decided to see how things progress. Then I’ll give you my opinion… if you still want it by then.”
“Good to know,” Anthony said.
Laughter rang out from the corner where the women had gathered. Apparently, the fan did exist.
Valiant held the fan and fluttered it before striking a pose that reminded him of one of those geisha portraits.
He’d nearly begun to smile again when Lore said, “I’ve changed my mind. If my sister will accept you, you can have her.”
Anthony turned to him. “I never said I planned to ask for your sister’s hand.”
Lore smiled. “But you will. I know that look.”
Anthony swallowed. He didn’t have a ‘look’. He worked very hard at making it appear as though he had very little interest in anything. “You’re mistaken.”
“I think not.” Lore stuck his hands in his pockets. “My sister is a lovely woman.”
Anthony did not deny it, not only because doing so might lead to a round of fisticuffs but also because he couldn’t.
Valiant was very lovely.
But his yearning for her was both temporal and temporary. But Lore’s warning did bring up something else. “She told you she plans to help me find a wife.”
“We don’t keep secrets in this family,” Lore said. “You should get used to that.”
Anthony grunted. Again, the man spoke as though it were already common knowledge that he and Valiant would wed.
The Last Duke (The Valiant Love Regency Romance) (A Historical Romance Book) Page 5