“Do you suppose His Grace and the new duchess will live happily ever after?”
Mrs. Young laughed. “Given how he looked at her just now, I think their mutual happiness is guaranteed.”
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Miss Madeline Maybury’s life hinged on this moment. High-flying success or utter ruin would greet her before night’s end.
She clutched the note instructing where she should meet the others during the Duke of Hargrave’s ball and headed toward the designated area. The path to the empty sitting room was dark, obviously to discourage anyone from venturing too far from the party, and she prayed she didn’t slip on the recently polished wooden planks. With one small sniff, she concluded the duke’s staff used the same lemon wax mixture as hers, and from experience, she knew how slick it could be.
The orchestra echoed softly, as if the music were being played far away, the melody mingling with muted chatter from the few hundred guests, but she couldn’t detect any other sounds.
Madeline glanced over her shoulder, squinting through the darkness—for the fifth time—just to be sure no one followed her, although she could not imagine why anyone would want to.
She had assured her mother she would visit the convenience and return promptly. It wasn’t exactly a falsehood, she thought, attempting to brush away the prickling needles of guilt. She was headed to the convenience—right after meeting with the others. Besides, it wasn’t like she had a smattering of suitors lined up, and she knew she wouldn’t be missed in the ballroom.
And that was the entire problem. There were no suitors. If she had any intention of saving her family from ruin, she needed to do this tonight, regardless of whether she succeeded or lived like a pariah afterward.
She had to take her chances.
Blowing out a shaky breath when she arrived at the meeting place, she gripped a curved brass handle and opened the door, stepping into a place she shouldn’t be. There’s no other choice, she reminded herself. If she could have captured a husband on her own without resorting to this, she would have.
Counting five other women, Madeline fidgeted with a fine chain around her wrist, the only real piece of jewelry she possessed. Unease settled over her. She should have left the ballroom sooner. Four of the women smiled nervously at her, no doubt feeling the same churning in their stomachs. Each of them, like her, needed to pass this test or they were doomed.
The leader of this meeting, Lady Louisa Tisdale, captured their attention, smiling tightly at Madeline before gesturing for the others to gather closer. All chatter ceased, and a pungent scent of desperation floated in the air. “You all know why I’ve brought you here?”
Madeline’s nod mirrored the other girls’. They’d each been chosen, out of all the debutantes this season, to take a test. If Madeline passed the test, Lady Louisa would take her under her wing. As the daughter of a duke richer than Midas, Lady Louisa was issued invitations to every gathering worth attending. And where she went, her circle went. Her friends, regardless of rank or breeding, were instantly invited into the upper echelon of society.
For someone like Madeline, with a scrawny dowry and unimpressive lineage, she needed all the help she could get. If only she could transform her darker hair into Louisa’s golden curls or tone down her doe-shaped eyes enough to smolder at someone, it would be easier to attain that on her own. But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.
And now that she had this opportunity, she wasn’t going to waste it. No matter what, she would finish the task assigned to her and take her place beside Lady Louisa—or behind her. Or wherever she was allowed to stand. Madeline wouldn’t be picky.
At the group’s acknowledgment, the blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty grinned. “Excellent. I won’t need to waste any time, then.” Lady Louisa held up a basket. “When I call your name, come forward. I will hand you a piece of paper with your task on it, and you will see it done. Tonight. There won’t be any second chances. You will either prevail or lose. You must keep it a secret until your task is complete. If you cheat and enlist another to help you, you will be disqualified and forfeit your slot. Is that clear?”
Again, no one spoke, only nodded. No one wanted to ruin their chance or draw too much attention to themselves. It frustrated Madeline that they were forced to this level, but she couldn’t see another way around it. Some people were lucky enough to be born into privilege or born handsome—or both. Unfortunately, not only had Madeline been born low in privilege compared to the rest of the peerage, the daughter of a baron who had inherited after a cousin’s untimely demise, she was also only passingly pretty. No one had ever raved about her beauty.
The first girl was called up, and Madeline held her breath. This is it. She couldn’t tell if excitement or anxiety lurched in her stomach.
The girl shook her head after reading her task and shuffled back toward her seat. She refused to look at anyone, and Madeline looked away when a tear rolled down her cheek.
After an initial flinch from the second girl after reading her task, she simply pocketed the paper Lady Louisa had handed her and nodded.
How awful were these tasks? Madeline had known they’d be difficult, but judging those two reactions, she began to fear they were impossible. Madeline didn’t know how many in Lady Louisa’s circle were actually there because they were truly her friends or if they had successfully passed her tests. That was another aspect of Lady Louisa’s game that was kept a secret.
So many secrets!
The third girl returned the note to Lady Louisa upon reading it and ran from the room. A sob echoed in her wake.
Madeline froze as sweat dotted her skin. It doesn’t matter what it says. I have to do it!
She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by.
“Miss Madeline Maybury,” Lady Louisa called out.
Madeline moved forward, her feet heavy, as if she were slogging through mud instead of the fine woven rugs on the floor. She wiped damp palms on her skirts, not caring one bit about the unladylike gesture. She didn’t want her sweaty fingers to fumble the note.
Once in front of Lady Louisa, the woman handed Madeline her task, and she closed her eyes on a quick prayer: Please, help me do this.
Breaking the seal with a cropped nail, Madeline unfolded the parchment and read the task assigned her: Kiss the Duke of Hargrave.
She swallowed hard as she quickly reread the note two more times. It wasn’t possible. Kiss the man hosting the ball, the man every unmarried girl set her cap at?
This had to be a mistake. No one could accomplish that.
Where would she find him alone? How could she kiss him without completely damaging her reputation?
When she didn’t speak, Lady Louisa asked, “Is there a problem, Miss Maybury?”
The words were polite, but it was Lady Louisa’s tone that confirmed a thought slowly weaving through Madeline’s mind. She doesn’t want me here. Madeline didn’t know what task Lady Louisa had given to any of the other girls, but she doubted any could compare to this. Madeline was being kicked out of the group before she even got the chance to try.
But there was one thing Lady Louisa didn’t understand about Madeline: she was willing to risk everything for her future. And before the night was done, Madeline would kiss the Duke of Hargrave.
She smiled bravely into the woman’s mean-spirited eyes. “No problem at all.”
Ethan Sommerlin, the Duke of Hargrave, decided he deserved the crown’s highest honor for refraining from killing his mother.
He closed the door to the family’s private sitting room behind him, muffling the sounds of the party downstairs, and watched his mother settle into a settee, just like a hen roosting in her nest. With the obscene amount of peacock feathers sprouting from her headdress, he mused, I’m not too far off the mark. The visible portion of her gray-streaked blond hair was pulled back so tightly that even the wrinkles in her forehead lightened due to the firm grip. She must get headaches from such styles, but knowing his mother, she probably bullied her pains away.
A fire burned hotly in the grate, and fresh scones and lemonade sat on the side table. He wondered briefly why the staff thought either of them would be lounging in here long enough to eat them, but then realized his mother had probably ordered the ridiculous light repast just because she enjoyed giving orders.
He didn’t bother sitting, expecting his mother’s scolding to last only moments before they needed to return to the ballroom. “Which discussion was important enough to abandon our guests for?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t take that tone with me, Hargrave. You might be the duke, but I’m still your mother.”
As if he could ever forget. “Forgive me.”
He bowed his head politely, and his mother accepted it with a sniff. “Yes, well, we haven’t much time until our absences are noticed, but I needed to speak with you about your abominable behavior this evening.”
His abominable behavior? He couldn’t have heard her correctly. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
She thumped her cane in displeasure. “Oh, you’ve comported yourself well, spoken politely to everyone who matters, but you know that’s not what I’m referring to.”
“You’re going to have to be a bit more specific, if you want to return to our guests within a reasonable amount of time. However”—he gestured to the empty space—“I do prefer this over the zoo downstairs.”
Her lips thinned. “I’m referring to your lack of suitable dance partners.”
“I have danced almost every set.” But he knew that wasn’t what dissatisfied her. It was the same thing she complained about on a weekly basis. Tonight would be no different.
“If you think dancing with married ladies or older widows is suitable, then maybe I should have your head examined.”
He raised his brows. “Is there something wrong with dancing with those women? I thought a good host interacted with all his guests.”
“You know perfectly well what I mean. If you insist on staying this course, I will be forced to take drastic measures.” She stood with her chin raised in the typical royal fashion she so loved to use when she wanted to intimidate others.
“Drastic measures, how?” He kept his face impassive, refusing to glower at his mother, no matter what she said. There was nothing she loved more than poking at him until he lost his temper. He wasn’t going to allow her the satisfaction—not this time.
Her slender shoulders shrugged, as dainty as they had been when she was a young woman. To her, looks mattered almost as much as titles. “Oh, I’ll think of something. It’s far past time you married. If I must take matters in my own hands, I will.”
His fist clenched, but he kept his voice even. “If you interfere in my life, you will regret it.”
“We’ll see.”
“I don’t think you understand. While you and Father had a loveless relationship, like so many of the Dukes of Hargrave before, I will not. I don’t care if you put one of the highest ranking, palest-faced virgins of the ton in my bed and arrange for the king to see her, I still won’t marry her.”
Color mottled his mother’s cheeks as she slammed her cane on the floor. “You’d ruin an innocent woman?”
“If she’s in my bed, I wouldn’t consider her innocent, would you?”
His mother brushed past him, her head held high, as regal as a queen. “You will do your duty, Hargrave. It’s in your blood. No matter how much you say you aren’t like your father and me, you have no choice.”
She sailed out of the room without another word.
When the dowager duchess marched from the family sitting room, Madeline shifted farther into the shadows of the hall alcove she had wedged herself into. Here she was, just a breath away from discovery and ruin. Heaven help me!
When the older woman’s steps faded into silence, Madeline knew she couldn’t wait a moment longer. Every second mattered at this point, and right now, the duke was in that room—alone.
She peeked down the hall one last time, ensuring it was empty before vaulting through the open door. She closed it as quietly as possible, but the mechanism clicked loudly when it closed. She was just not cut out for secret rendezvous.
“May I help you?”
Madeline’s gaze whipped up to meet the duke’s. His brow arched mockingly, and she almost lost her nerve. Instead, she clenched her hands behind her. “Yes. I need to speak with you.”
He eyed her meringue-colored gown, and she knew what he saw. The pastel colors forced on debutantes looked atrocious on her. The moment she was married, she fully intended to burn each and every garment that made her look like a badly frosted dessert.
That is, if she were fortunate enough to marry in the first place.
His eyes hardened. “If my mother sent you—”
“Your mother?” Why on earth would his mother send me?
Some of the hostility left his gaze. “Why are you here?”
“I need something from you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t need to tell you how improper being alone with me is. You should rejoin your family and forget you were ever here.”
If only it were that easy. Well, it would be that easy once she got what she came for. He just needed to cooperate, and she’d be on her way. Instead of answering, she stepped farther into the room and looked around. “Unfortunately, I came to get something, and I can’t leave until I have it.”
She meandered through the room as she moved closer and closer to him, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Perhaps she should just grab him and kiss him, then run away as if the devil himself chased her.
Suddenly, she wished for a mask and complete anonymity. “Do you know who I am?” she asked, a little too hopefully.
His lips tightened, but he said nothing.
Relief flooded her, and she fought the hysterical giggle climbing her throat. “You don’t, do you?” When he didn’t speak, she assumed it was because he didn’t want to admit his lack of knowledge. She waved it away. “Oh, that’s all right. I’m not surprised, really. I’m not the type of person people remember.”
“Oh, I doubt that. Not just anyone would be invited to the Duke of Hargrave’s ball.”
“Well, you do have discerning taste.”
“So you know who I am.” He sounded resigned.
She snorted before she could stop the unladylike impulse. “You are the most sought-after bachelor this season. Everyone knows who you are.”
He shifted closer to her, his striking blue eyes searching hers. “And is that why you’re here? Are you hoping to capture me? Because let me tell
you, many have tried, and it won’t end well for you.”
She could only imagine. Every person he met must want something from him. He was handsome—in that dark, brooding sort of way—but he was also wealthy, titled, and powerful. He couldn’t invite people into his life without risk, and from what she had witnessed, she wasn’t sure he even had any true friends. But how could he, when he never knew who was around him because they enjoyed his company or because they wanted something from him?
Pity stirred inside her. She stepped closer—finally within reaching distance, but not completely closing the gap—and slowly shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t try to trap you. I’m well aware it would fail miserably. You are far too above me for that to ever work.”
An interested gleam entered his eye as he studied her. “I can’t tell whether you’re an accomplished liar or if you actually mean that.”
“Unfortunately, it’s true. The reason you don’t know me is because I’m probably the lowest ranking person here and have little in the way of fortune.”
“If you’re not here to trap me, then what do you want?”
She took a deep breath before locking eyes with his. “I’m here to kiss you.”
Ethan reeled at her words. “I beg your pardon?”
“I’m here to kiss you.”
He couldn’t mask his surprise. He should have left the instant she entered the room, but for some strange reason, he couldn’t turn away from her. With every word she spoke, it was like a spell wove around him, rooting him in place. “Why?”
“Because I need to. I can’t tell you why.”
He supposed it didn’t matter why she wanted to kiss him. The answer was an absolute no. It had to be, but he didn’t tell her that. Instead, curiosity filled him. “Why can’t you tell me?”
“Because if I do, then it will all be for nothing.”
Disappointment curled in his gut. She didn’t want to kiss him for pleasure, she simply wanted to because he was a duke. Maybe she collected kisses from higher ranks, like a game. “I see. You want a conquest—a memento to brag about.”
Falling for a Duke (Timeless Regency Collection Book 8) Page 16