“Flirting again, Your Grace?”
“Who me?” he said, putting his hand to his heart.
She looked over her shoulder and returned her gaze to him. “You had better go.”
He looked behind her.
“What are you about?” she said.
He grinned. “One of your curls escaped the cap.”
She attempted to tuck it in.
“Don’t,” he said. “It’s rather fetching.”
“Please go. I cannot afford trouble.”
“No one is paying attention to us. May I have a glass of lemonade?”
“Of course.” She poured and handed the glass to him.
He took a sip and puckered his mouth. “It’s terrible, but I should have expected it. Almack’s is well known for its lackluster refreshments.”
“One would think the ton would serve decent food and drink.”
“Believe me, no one comes here for the refreshments,” he said.
“Except you?” she said in a teasing tone.
He laughed. “I saw you watching the dancers. I wish you could dance with me.”
“I’m working.” She glanced over her shoulder again. “You had better leave before someone notices you’re talking to me.”
He glanced out at the crowd. “No one is paying the least bit of attention. Everyone is focused on the dancers.”
“Why aren’t you dancing?” she said.
“I would if you were free.”
“If you wish to flirt, I advise you to choose a lady of leisure. I must work.”
“I wish I could dance the rest of the night with you. I can’t, so I won’t dance at all.”
She shook her head. “I’m not the reason you’re avoiding dancing,” she said. “I know the patronesses changed the rules.”
“Yes, and I narrowly escaped dancing all night with a young lady out in her first season. I felt sorry for her. She couldn’t be a day over seventeen, making her much too young for the likes of me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Aren’t you expected to dance?”
“I don’t care about expectations.”
She met his gaze straight on. “I wager your family does. I know courtships take place primarily on the dance floor.”
“When I decide to court a lady, I will choose the time and place. I make my own decisions, and I answer to no one,” he said.
She arched her brows. “Perhaps a higher power?”
He smiled. “Or a lower one.”
Her mouth twitched in a slight smile. “Does that make you a devilish duke?”
His shoulders shook with mirth. “Clever.”
A rotund maid walked out. “Lucy, give the gentleman a glass of lemonade and be done with it.”
Lucy winced and poured a glass. “Yes, Mrs. Thompson. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not me you owe an apology.” Mrs. Thompson regarded him. “She’s new, but that’s no excuse.”
He’d made trouble for Lucy, and he’d better undo the damage. “Mrs. Thompson, I beg your pardon.” Harry gave her his best flirtatious smile. “The lady did try to discourage me. I take all the blame. Do forgive me.”
Mrs. Thompson’s eyes grew as round as carriage wheels and her face turned pink. “Imagine me forgivin’ you. Carry on, Miss Longmore,” she said, and walked off.
Afterward, Lucy leaned toward him. “Please go now. I can’t risk losing my job.”
The devil. He shouldn’t have teased Lucy. Her words worried him, because she couldn’t be earning much. That only made him wonder how she was managing.
He wandered past the other tables, stopping occasionally to watch her. She and her grandmother lived in a rough neighborhood. That fact only increased his curiosity and his concern. Most likely, she held more than one job, because she couldn’t possibly survive on whatever pittance she earned serving lemonade.
When she caught him eyeing her, she averted her gaze. A lady approached, and Lucy served her a glass of lemonade. Afterward, Lucy looked out at the crowd as if determined to avoid him.
Once again, he was struck by the contradiction of her. He told himself to walk away and forget her, but he couldn’t. She was a riddle, one that he itched to solve, but that was not all. In truth, that one kiss had only made him want more. He wanted to pull her up to her toes and kiss her senseless. He wanted to hold her in his arms. He wanted her to surrender everything to him, but he mustn’t rush her. That one kiss had assured him she was an innocent.
The orchestra ended the tune with a flourish. The master of ceremonies called for silence. The guests moved closer en mass toward the dais where the patronesses sat.
Three ladies inside the refreshment room hurried out to join the throng. Harry consulted his watch. It was half past eleven. He turned around. Lucy was alone.
When he strode toward her, she eyed him warily. He set the half-finished glass of lemonade on the table and leaned closer to her.
“I want to see you again. Meet me at Green Park tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know more about you.”
She shook her head. “I do not think it is a good idea.”
“Who will know but us?” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “What if one of your friends saw me with you? I can well imagine what they would think of me.”
“They’ll be at Rotten Row during the fashionable hour. No need to worry.”
A roar went up within the ballroom, followed by thunderous clapping. Harry turned around and saw his eldest cousin Mina and Lord Everleigh standing on the dais. “I had better go.”
“Yes, go, and please do not jeopardize my job again.”
He grinned. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“You’re awfully confident, but you are bound for disappointment.”
He looked at her over his shoulder, winked, and walked into the ballroom.
Lucy released her breath as she wiped up the condensation from his glass of lemonade. When he’d first approached, her face had grown hot. She didn’t care that he’d seen her serving. He’d been to her home after all, and serving lemonade was honest work. But she’d been uneasy with his flirtation while she was working. It was just her luck that Mrs. Thompson, the head maid, would see him with her. Lucy ought to have known he would attend Almack’s. Only the crème de la crème received vouchers, and he most certainly was one of them.
When Mrs. Thompson approached, Lucy’s muscles stiffened. Would the head maid chastise her for unseemly conduct? Or worse, sack her?
“Do you know who that gent was?” Mrs. Thompson asked with her ham of a hand on her hip.
“No.” God forgive her for the lie, but it would hurt no one, and she would have a difficult time explaining how she knew him.
“I heard one of the society ladies talkin’ ’bout him. He’s the Duke of Granfield,” Mrs. Thompson said.
She pretended ignorance. “Oh?”
Mrs. Thompson snorted. “Oh,” she says. “He’s the bleedin’ Duke of Granfield, the one what inherited his uncle’s fortune. He’s the catch of the season or so one of the hoity-toity ladies said. If you don’t believe me, have a look at those ladies circlin’ him like vultures.”
Ladies dressed in silk and satin thronged him. Their well-bred laughter drifted to Lucy.
She recalled his words the night he’d kissed her. From the first moment we met, I could not get you out of my head.
He’d spoken as if she were special to him, but the women surrounding him told an entirely different story.
Something hot rushed up her throat. She’d known they could never be anything more than temporary acquaintances. But it was one thing to know in the abstract that he was considered the most eligible bachelor and quite another to watch the ladies flirt with him. From all appearances, he was enjoying their attention.
Lucy pressed her nails into her palms. Jealousy flared inside her chest. She hated that she cared. Of course it was foolish, but the emotions swirled red-hot inside of her. She could neve
r compete with those ladies.
Why was she comparing herself unfavorably to them? She knew plenty about young ladies of the ton. She’d hooked, fitted, and pinned enough spoiled aristo girls to know many of them acted like petulant and sulky children. If that’s what he wanted in a woman, he was welcome to them.
She told herself her jealousy had been nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment. Now she was doubly glad she’d refused to meet him in the park again. But the night he’d kissed her, she’d thought there was something between them. She’d felt the tension and her own yearning. Now she was confused and unsure what to make of his interest in her. He’d been so determined that first time they met in the park, but now watching him with the society ladies, she doubted him and herself.
“Best be wary, my girl,” Mrs. Thompson said. “He looked at you with those blue eyes as if he was undressin’ you. Toffs like him use a girl and leave her after they gets what they want. Nobody hires a gel what has a bun in the oven.”
“That will never happen.”
“See that you remember it,” Mrs. Thompson said, and returned to the kitchen.
Lucy made herself watch him so that she wouldn’t forget that she could never be anyone to him other than a passing flirtation. The trouble was she’d let him into her life, and she couldn’t forget his kiss. Now she was torn between wanting nothing to do with him and wanting him to call on her again. If she was smart, she would shove him out of her thoughts forever. She’d known no good could come from an acquaintance with him, but she couldn’t help wanting to be with him, even though she feared he would hurt her again.
“The dancing competition was splendid,” Mrs. Norcliffe said as Harry’s carriage rolled along the streets of Mayfair. “Mina, you and Lord Everleigh were the darlings of the night. I’m delighted you were chosen to advance in the competition.”
“Lord Everleigh is a wonderful dance partner,” Mina said. “Of course, Miss Fothergill and Mr. Castelle acquitted themselves very well tonight.”
“You are entirely too modest, Mina,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.
Mina sighed. “I do wish Amelia and Helena would have danced.”
“You are the brave one, Mina,” Amelia said. “Helena and I purposely faded into the background.”
“I could not bear for others to study me while I dance,” Helena said.
“I would have been terrified,” Amelia said, “but, Mina, you looked happy.”
“I suppose one’s partner makes a difference,” Mina said, lowering her lashes.
Harry had seen Mina’s bright eyes and flushed face when the dancing ended. Clearly Mina liked Everleigh. Harry made a note to meet the man at White’s for a drink. He meant to take Everleigh’s measure before allowing him to court Mina, although most courting actually took place on the dance floor—or so he’d been told.
“Harry, we missed seeing you nearly the entire ball,” Mrs. Norcliffe said. “I heard you were in the gaming room with your friends.”
One thing he could always count on. His mother knew everything about everybody, including him. Mrs. Norcliffe and her haughty friends were known for gossiping, something he found more than a little disagreeable.
“I was disappointed that Miss Osterham grew ill,” his mother continued, “but next week, she will be recovered, and you will dance with her.”
“No, I will not,” he said. “I must be nearly twice her age. If I wish to dance, I will choose my own partner.” His mother was determined that he would participate in this ridiculous dancing competition, but she would not get her way.
Tonight, he’d been perilously close to being trapped into dancing with Miss Osterham all evening. No doubt the other patronesses would have agreed with his mother that he and Miss Osterham should advance in the competition next Wednesday. Then his mother would have said that Miss Osterham expected him to dance with her every week.
He most definitely would not set foot inside Almack’s again.
“Harry, you did not dance at all,” Mrs. Norcliffe said in an irritated tone. “The other patronesses took exception to your disappearance in the game rooms.”
“According to their rules, I would have been required to dance the entire evening with the same partner. I did not wish to do so. Furthermore, I have no wish to be a part of the competition.”
“Harry, you are the most eligible bachelor this season,” Mrs. Norcliffe said.
“Mama, you may spread the word that I’m the most ineligible bachelor this season.”
“You are a never-ending cause of my vexation, Harry.”
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
She huffed. “You enjoy it.”
One year ago, no one would have ever considered him marriage material. He’d always had pockets to let and possessed neither title nor fortune, both requisite necessities to winning the heart of the latest diamond of the first water. His cousins had once explained to him that meant a great beauty, but he’d no idea what first water was all about. It sounded ridiculous to him.
He intended to wed when the time was right. Lately, there had been too much upheaval in his life. He needed time to adjust to the numerous changes in his circumstances first.
He thought about his preferences for a wife. Naturally he wished for a woman who would shed all inhibitions in bed, but a virginal bride would likely be skittish. He was confident he could coax a shy bride. All the same, he would prefer someone who was clever and not easily conquered.
Such as a petite, strong-willed redhead who gave him no quarter.
He remained curious about her. How in the world was she earning enough money to support herself and her grandmother? And why would she take a lowly position serving at Almack’s when she was clearly educated. He knew she’d not been in London very long and probably had few connections.
He could help her if she would allow it. Hopefully she would meet him at the park tomorrow. Since the first night he’d met her, he’d not been able to shove her out of his thoughts. That had never happened to him before. He’d teased and bedded more than a few women. Always he’d tired of them, usually rather quickly, and walked away with no regrets.
No woman had ever captivated him the way Lucy had done. He didn’t know why he couldn’t forget her, the way he’d forgotten so many others. Perhaps it was the combination of her saucy retorts mingled with her vulnerability. She was vulnerable, whether she admitted it or not. He wanted to protect her, but she was no hot-house flower like most of the women of the ton. Her bravery had stunned him the first night he’d met her when she’d flashed her wicked blade.
He had to admit he wanted her in his arms. He couldn’t make himself stop wanting her, but instinct told him she wasn’t the sort of woman who would take a man into her bed.
She was an original, nothing like the women he’d met in the ton. She was clever, determined, and independent in ways that no lady of the ton would ever dare. He liked that she was unique, and nothing like the vain ladies who expected compliments about their beauty. Lucy didn’t simper and lower her eyes. She didn’t hesitate to speak her mind.
She challenged him, made him laugh, and refused to give him any quarter. She’d insisted there could be nothing between them because of class distinctions, but he refused to let some arbitrary social rules stand in his way. When she was near him, he felt exhilarated and excited. For the first time in all the years he’d sought out women, he could not forget and walk away.
She was his first thought in the morning and his last thought at night.
There was only one answer. He would pursue her and before it was all over, he would make her his.
Chapter Eight
Harry’s day had not gone well. He’d gotten a letter from the estate manager at Havenwood letting him know of several inconvenient incidences. The bridge needed repairs, four of the pigs had somehow escaped the pens, and the kitchen range had to be replaced. To top it all off, he’d gotten a headache in parliament over a nasty divorce petition. At the end of the day, he’d gone t
o Green Park only to find that Lucy had not gone there to meet him. Damn it all, he’d been disappointed.
The last thing he’d wanted was to go out this evening, but he’d agreed to meet Lord Everleigh at White’s for a brandy. Harry was fairly certain the ginger-haired Everleigh held tender feelings for Mina, but he wanted to be sure. Harry was the only male figure in his cousin’s lives. As such, he felt it was his responsibility to protect them and ensure their happiness to the degree possible.
Everleigh seemed a decent chap, although he was a bit tongue-tied at times. More important, Harry didn’t want Mina and Everleigh to feel obliged to dance the entire evening at Almack’s week after week, unless both truly wanted to continue in the ridiculous competition. If they continued, others might think the pair was headed for the altar.
The situation was unusual to say the least. Everyone in the ton knew they had won the first night’s competition, and Harry feared Everleigh and Mina might feel pressed to marry if they continued dancing together all season. The last thing he wanted was for the two of them to feel obligated to wed.
His fears were real ones. He knew of men and women who had felt obligated to marry for one reason or another. It had happened to Wellington of all people. Harry didn’t want Mina or Everleigh to feel trapped by the weight of others’ expectations. Tonight he meant to broach the topic of the dancing competition with Everleigh to prevent something similar happening to Mina.
After a brief discussion of today’s events in parliament, Harry ordered two more brandies and raised his glass. “Cheers,” he said.
“To you as well,” Everleigh said.
“So, are you planning to attend Almack’s next week?”
“Yes, I wouldn’t miss it.”
Harry set his glass aside. “In normal circumstances, a lady does not dance more than two dances with one gentleman.” Harry leaned back in his chair. “However, the patronesses changed the rules for Almack’s this particular season.”
“Indeed, they surprised us all,” Everleigh said.
“Are you planning to continue in the dancing competition?”
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