by Darcy Burke
Kendal.
But Nora didn’t say that. He wouldn’t be here in any case. “I expect I’ll dance with Mr. Dawson, and perhaps Lord Markham or Mr. Gilchrist.”
“Mr. Dawson seems taken with you. Do you feel the same?”
He was charming and witty and reasonably attractive. But he was no Kendal, whom she couldn’t stop thinking of since last night’s kiss. “He’s quite pleasant.”
Lady Satterfield brushed at her skirt. “I see. Well, that is not a glowing declaration.”
“I didn’t mean to disparage him at all. I do like him.”
“But do you like him enough to accept a proposal should he offer for you? It’s one thing to like a gentleman, and quite another to agree to spend your life with him. For some women, that sentiment is enough. For others, they might prefer to marry for love or…passion.” She gave Nora a meaningful look.
Yes, passion. Like the kiss she’d shared with Kendal last night. No matter how pleasant she found Mr. Dawson, she doubted he could make her feel like that. Furthermore, she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.
“Anyway, you needn’t settle on Mr. Dawson—or anyone else for that matter—any time soon. Your popularity is only increasing, and I expect you will have several suitors clamoring for your attention.” She smiled widely as she leaned forward and gave Nora’s knee a quick pat.
“Thank you,” Nora said, grateful for any reprieve. Everything was moving so quickly. She’d gone from needing a job to provide for her future to being the toast of the ton.
She was having a hard time deciding what to wear. Selecting a potential bridegroom seemed a dizzying task.
Indeed, she found herself missing her quiet life in St. Ives—her roses and her books. Visits with her sister. She wrote to Jo nearly every day and eagerly awaited her sister’s replies, which came at the same pace. Jo was happy for Nora’s second chance, while at the same time astounded, like Nora, that she’d been given such a boon. Her father, on the other hand, had written only once—to say that he was now settled with his sister and brother-in-law. Nora felt sad to think that there was now nothing for her to go home to. In fact, she didn’t really have a home, unless she considered the Satterfields’, and she supposed she must.
“So what sort of marriage do you think you’d prefer?” Lady Satterfield asked. “I’ve been fortunate enough to fall in love twice. I admit I’d like to see the same happen for you.” She spoke with warmth and sincerity, and Nora was nearly overcome with gratitude and appreciation. In many ways, Lady Satterfield had become a surrogate mother, and, honestly, she was the best thing about all the abrupt changes in Nora’s life. The memory of Kendal’s kiss rose in her mind. Perhaps not the best thing…
“Love would be nice,” Nora said. “However, I have no illusions at my age. I should be quite happy to find companionship and mutual admiration.”
“Don’t settle for something you don’t want. The right man is out there. I’m certain of it.” Lady Satterfield looked out the window again. “Ah, we’ve finally arrived.”
The footman opened the door and helped the countess step down from the carriage. The night was cool but dry.
Nora took the footman’s proffered hand and stepped from the carriage. Then she followed Lady Satterfield to the door of the massive town house. Situated in the heart of Upper Grosvenor Street, the Colnes’ address was exceedingly fashionable. It was a place Nora could never have hoped to visit during her prior Seasons. Now, however, she seemed to have infiltrated the uppermost circle and could rub shoulders with the Untouchables. She felt like an utter fraud.
As they made their way inside and through the receiving line, Nora allowed her mind to wander. She paid just enough attention to the proceedings so as not to make a fool of herself, while indulging the fantasies taking root in her brain. She thought of a future where she didn’t have to choose a husband at all, but could instead be independent and carefree. In that dream world, she’d kiss whomever she wanted with impunity.
“Miss Lockhart, you are a vision!” Mr. Dawson greeted her with a grin, his brown eyes lighting with appreciation. “I do hope I’m the first to claim a dance this evening.”
“Indeed you are.”
“Excellent, I shall find you when the set begins.” He gave her a brief bow before taking himself off.
Over the course of the next quarter hour, Nora collected enough dance invitations to last her the entire evening. She ought to feel excited. After all, this was what she’d wanted, wasn’t it?
Except now that she had it, she wasn’t at all sure she was satisfied. It suddenly felt as though she’d taken her life of the past nine years for granted.
She danced with Mr. Dawson and tried to imagine a marriage with him. The passion Lady Satterfield had mentioned was nonexistent. But at the same time, he would make a perfectly acceptable husband.
That sounded so dull.
She danced with two more gentlemen before the supper break. When the music stopped, her partner led her from the dance floor, apologizing that he wasn’t going to stay for supper. Nora was suddenly quite glad, because there, standing beside Lady Satterfield, was the last person she expected to see tonight—the Forbidden Duke.
Kendal watched her approach, his green eyes dark and seductive, almost beckoning her. She felt a pull to walk directly to him, the memory of his lips on hers propelling her forward.
“Good evening, Miss Lockhart.” His voice was deep and captivating.
She offered him a curtsey. “Good evening, Your Grace. It’s a pleasure to see you here.” She didn’t intentionally infuse the comment with any sort of question, but dearly wanted to ask why he’d come. His attendance was bound to cause a stir.
The edge of his mouth ticked up. It wasn’t a smile, but she recognized it as him understanding her unasked query, particularly because his eyes seemed to glow with a suppressed emotion. She had the sense he was amused by this situation, and she longed to ask why.
“I was hoping to claim the next dance.”
Oh dear. Disappointment curled through her. Her popularity had never been more of a nuisance. “I am, unfortunately, already committed, Your Grace.”
The look in his eyes dampened. “Well then, I shall have to settle for a promenade.”
“Yes, after supper,” Lady Satterfield said.
Nora had all but forgotten her presence. In fact, she’d all but forgotten that they were at a ball. It had seemed that just she and Kendal existed. How absurdly delightful.
Lord Satterfield joined them. “Kendal, this is a shock. Are you trying to set the ton on its ear?” He grinned at his stepson before turning to his wife. “Shall we go in to supper?”
“Indeed.” Kendal presented his arm to Nora, and they preceded the Satterfields to the dining room, where a lavish table was set. Nora had never seen such a display. The sheer quantity of dishes, silver, and glasses was enough to make her head swim.
She tipped her head toward Kendal. “What a staggering amount of crockery.”
She kept her voice low, preferring their conversation to be as private as possible. She could feel the eyes of the room staring at them, could hear the questions and comments the guests were striving to keep quiet. She preferred to pretend that she and Kendal were alone in the garden at the Satterfields’. Or anywhere else, really.
He guided her to a chair next to Lady Satterfield. “I can’t imagine supporting an event of this size. My stepmother’s annual ball is quite daunting enough.” He situated Nora in the chair, and then his touch was gone, leaving her cold.
Lady Satterfield looked at Nora and then her stepson. “It isn’t so different. Of course, I don’t have the space or retainers to carry off a ball of this proportion. But if I did, I would.” She smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Nora, when you are wed, you may find yourself the hostess of a ball like this.”
Nora had dreamed of such a thing in the early years following her ruin, but had never imagined it would come true. Even now, sitting amongst the ton’s most e
lite—the Untouchables—and enjoying a level of acceptance she’d never imagined, she couldn’t quite believe it was possible. Furthermore, now that it was, she wasn’t at all certain that was what she wanted.
Kendal indicated the footman should pour him some claret. He turned to Nora. “Claret or Madeira?”
She looked at the footman. “Madeira, please.”
A woman seated on the other side of Kendal spoke. “Kendal, it is such a boon to find you here this evening. You seem to be quite the man about town this Season.”
Nora hadn’t ever seen him converse with people. On the occasions she’d seen him publicly—at Lady Satterfield’s ball and the picnic—he’d spoken only with his stepparents and Nora. She waited to see what he would do.
He turned his head toward the woman, and Nora would’ve traded her pin money to see his expression. She strained to hear what he would say.
“Yes.”
The single word seemed to convey a wealth of meaning, the most important of which was, Don’t speak to me again.
Or so it seemed.
He turned his head toward Nora. “Have you enjoyed the ball?”
“Yes, thank you.” She darted a look across the table and saw that people, as expected, were watching them. She did her best to ignore them and wondered how Kendal did it. He seemed utterly immune to those around him. “How do you do it?” she whispered.
“What?” It wasn’t quite a whisper, but the word was soft, and the bass tone made her shiver.
“Shut them all out,” she said.
“Ah. That, I think, is a conversation for another time.” He barely smiled. “But I promise we shall have it.”
Lady Satterfield took over the bulk of the conversation while they ate supper. As the meal drew to a close, she peered around Nora. “Kendal, will you be staying?”
He shook his head. “I’ve been here long enough, don’t you think?” The elevation of his eyebrow lent a note of humor to his question.
His stepmother chuckled. “Indeed. It’s a shame you can’t dance with Nora, but I daresay she doesn’t require your assistance any longer.”
There it was. Nora had long suspected Kendal was only showing interest in her because Lady Satterfield had asked him to, and now she knew it was true. Why, then, had he kissed her? She dashed a glance at him, feeling suddenly unsettled.
Everyone began to stand from the table. Kendal helped Nora from her chair and led her from the dining room. Back in the ballroom, he kissed her hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Lockhart. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. I shall.” But not nearly so much as the past hour. Until she’d begun to feel like an obligation. Or a favor the Forbidden Duke was doing for his beloved stepmother.
As she watched him retreat from the ballroom, a part of her protested. Perhaps his interest had started that way, but she didn’t think she’d misunderstood his ardor when they’d kissed or the humor they’d shared in conversation or the promise he’d just made her at dinner. No, he didn’t seem indifferent. But neither did that mean he wanted anything more than to help her on her way to success.
She danced with several more gentlemen, but with each one, she imagined green eyes and a seductive smile. By the time she climbed into the coach with Lady Satterfield, she was exhausted.
“How do people survive an entire Season of such entertainment?” Nora asked. She’d surely have to sleep the day away tomorrow, but likely wouldn’t. She rose early in the country, and had not yet broken that habit.
The countess laughed. “You become used to it, but of course I don’t go out like this every night. I wouldn’t be able to manage. It was different when I was younger.” She studied Nora. “You don’t like it?”
Nora didn’t want to hurt Lady Satterfield’s feelings. She was, after all, providing Nora with an exceptional opportunity, and Nora didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “It’s not that… It’s just different.”
“You’ll get used to it. Once you’re wed, you can dictate your social calendar. Look at Kendal. He doesn’t bother with any of it.” She shook her head. “I’m astounded he came tonight. It will be the primary topic of conversation tomorrow. If it isn’t already.”
“You didn’t know he was coming?” Nora asked.
“No, and I didn’t ask him to. I told him we would be here, of course.”
She hadn’t asked him to come. Which meant he’d attended—sought her out—of his own accord. The unease she’d felt earlier dispelled, leaving a warm feeling of contentment in its wake.
Lady Satterfield tipped her head to the side. “You must think him very odd. I know some people do, but then others recall what he was like before—in his youth.”
Nora leaned slightly forward, eager to know more. “And how was that?”
“He was careless, an utter rake, truth be told. Then his father died, and he became the duke. Kendal—that is, Titus—felt his responsibility quite heavily and worked hard to be the sort of man his father would have wanted him to be.”
Nora was entranced. She longed to unravel the mysteries of the Forbidden Duke. “What sort of man was that?”
“Kendal—my husband, that is—was the smartest man I knew. He ran his estates impeccably and was always championing a cause or five in Parliament. He was a reformer.” She smiled, her gaze looking into the distance as if she were overcome with memories. “He had very little time for nonsense, or what he considered nonsense anyway.”
“What did he consider nonsense?”
Lady Satterfield’s lips curved up. “Balls like this one, though he would’ve made an appearance for supper as Satterfield did.”
Nora noted that Satterfield stayed longer than that before taking his leave. “Did he spend much time at his club?”
“In the same way that Titus does—keeping to his private room for the most part.”
Titus. A strong name that recalled the Greek Titans, it fit him. Nora imagined him in solitude and was surprised to find the image enticing. But then any image with him made her stomach curl with anticipation. She tried to think of the younger Titus, the rake, and found it nearly impossible. “I can’t imagine Kendal as a reckless youth.”
“Yes, well, he was.” Lady Satterfield shook her head gently. “He drove his father mad with his antics.”
“What manner of antics?”
“He ran with a fast crowd—racing phaetons, gambling, everything you might expect. He cut quite a figure. I’m surprised you don’t remember him from when you were out. That would have been about the same time.”
Nora tried to recall him but couldn’t. “I didn’t move in the same circles.” Indeed, her only foray into the upper echelon had been when Haywood had paid her attention, and look at how that had turned out.
“He wasn’t Kendal of course then,” Lady Satterfield said. “He was the Marquess of Ravenglass.”
That name sparked a hint of memory, but Nora still couldn’t place him.
Lady Satterfield yawned as the coach stopped in front of their town house. “Goodness, but I am tired. We shall take a respite tomorrow. I need to summon my energy since I’m hosting a tea the following day.”
Nora was delighted to have a day of relaxation. Even so, she felt restless just now. The name Ravenglass nagged at the back of her mind, but she simply didn’t remember Kendal from her earlier Seasons. When she fell asleep that night, she thought of a rake named Ravenglass and couldn’t imagine how he’d become the Forbidden Duke.
Chapter 10
Titus went from the ball to his mistress’s house. Isabelle was out—at the theatre, according to her footman—so he waited for her. But after pouring a glass of whisky, instead of making himself comfortable, he paced.
She made a grand entrance into the small sitting room adjoining her bedchamber. Dressed in a gown of sparkling ruby satin decorated with gold ribbon, she looked like a gleaming jewel meant to be appreciated. Preened over.
He couldn’t help but contrast her to Nora. She’d wor
n a simple but elegant ball gown made of a rich amber that made her auburn hair seem redder and her tawny eyes more luminescent. Where Isabelle commanded attention, Nora quietly lured you into her orbit, and once there, you were sorely tempted to never leave.
But he had left. He’d possessed no other choice unless he wanted to give the ton even more fodder.
“Kendal,” Isabelle purred. “What a divine surprise.” She set her fur-lined shawl on the settee. “Give me a few minutes to prepare before you come in.” She started toward her bedchamber.
“Wait. I should like to…talk.” He took the armchair near the fireplace, beside which sat his whisky on a side table. He took a drink and gestured for her to sit too.
She perched on the settee, her expression bemused. “All right.” She tugged her gloves off and set them beside her. Then she reached up and unpinned the feather from her impressively dressed hair. “What are we to discuss?”
He shrugged. “The weather. Whatever you saw at the theatre. I care not.”
“I see. You came here to talk but haven’t a subject in mind.” She placed the feather atop her gloves. “I hope you’ll forgive my boldness—you’ve a terrible reputation for not suffering foolishness of any kind—but why ever did you employ me?”
He suppressed a scowl and took another drink of whisky. “No, I do not suffer fools.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You specifically told me that you chose me because I am blessedly bereft of the guile my sisters typically wield. Would you also prefer I hold my tongue? If memory serves, you quite liked that appendage.”
She was referring to the night he’d taken her into his employ. They’d come back here to her small town house, the one he was now paying for, and she’d given evidence to the skills she’d claimed to possess. She was, without debate, an excellent lover. And he hadn’t touched her since.
“I’ve been busy.” She hadn’t asked why he hadn’t partaken of her services, but for some reason, he felt the need to explain. Now who was being foolish?
Isabelle smoothed her beautifully manicured hand over her skirt. “Well, I’m delighted you’re here now. I’ve been most anxious to deepen our acquaintance.” The look she gave him was seductively direct and left absolutely no room for misunderstanding. She meant to take him into her bedchamber and do whatever he wanted.