The Heart of a Duke

by Samantha Grace

  “You may be certain I’ll be in residence throughout the week.” He smiled at the others seated there making it clear he spoke to everyone, not singling out Miss Martin for any favors. While the sisters were granddaughters of a marquess, making them suitable for consideration, he knew the elder’s temperament too well to wish to further their acquaintance.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” she purred.

  She was dangerous, like a falcon waiting to swoop in, clutch him in her talons and devour him for nuncheon. Walking away, Langley glanced to see if Brooky had joined them. His friend would be quite useful in distracting the devious Miss Martin before she interfered with Langley’s plans.

  Brooky was busy with a flirtation of his own, however. A very voluptuous widow, the mother of one of the young men present, leaned toward the young lord as if drawing breath from the words he spoke.

  By the time Langley had circled the room making polite conversation here and there, Lady Charlotte was sitting at a table with Lady Susanna and the Penn brothers, completely defeating Langley’s purpose. He greeted each of the four, ending with the object of his intentions. “What do you play?”

  “Loo.” Lady Charlotte smiled at him briefly before turning back to her cards and making her next move.

  “Delightful.” Although the fact she was occupied by others was anything but. He should have posted a schedule for all to see, claiming some time to visit uninterrupted with Lady Charlotte. How vexing it was to have everyone know his purpose when he spoke to any of the ladies, and be unable to chat with them at his own whim.

  Somehow he’d imagined this gathering would evolve differently. He’d pictured it more like a buffet, where he might see the selection before him, announce his choice, and wait for someone to bring it to him. Yet he was being required to spend time getting to know all the ladies the duchess had invited. As if it were important they got on well.

  Well, it was important to one person present that they got on well.

  He began to pace again, and stopped in front of the massive painting of his father that hung above the marble fireplace mantel. Had his parents known each other long before they agreed to marry? He’d never asked, and it was something that was never discussed in his presence. Had they fallen in love over a waltz, or simply become increasingly fond of each other in the twenty years they shared before his father’s death?

  Glancing at where the duchess sat with Lady Pinsley, Lady Charlotte’s mother, he found it hard to imagine his parents had married for any reason other than love. There was sadness in his mother’s eyes that never really left, even when she laughed. She truly missed her husband. He knew by the small sighs that escaped her now and then when she’d mention the late duke.

  Perhaps Langley had been setting his standards too low in only requiring his wife be of good family and pleasant nature. Yet adding love to the qualities implied he was capable of love. Was he? Of course he loved his family, even when his older sister did her best to aggravate him. He could honestly promise to love his wife to some degree over time. But the grand passion he saw others proclaim they felt had never even hinted at claiming him.

  He was not a man suited to grand passions.

  Langley strolled more casually back to Lady Charlotte’s table and observed her playing cards and speaking softly with those at her table. She seemed much more in her element now than when he’d first noticed her chasing her pall mall ball. Her cheeks held a healthy pink glow, and the sunlight streaming through the large windows brightened her blue eyes. Her face seemed less angular, her hair more…well, mature was the only word that came to mind. She no longer looked like a lost child.

  Their card game eventually ended and Lady Susanna rose. “I would like to take a turn about the room before playing another game. Lady Charlotte, will you join me?”

  “That sounds lovely,” she replied.

  The two walked away from where Langley stood. He watched them go, noticing the lack of any beguiling sway in Lady Charlotte’s hips. She had no pretense in her manner, no come-hither flirtatiousness when her gaze landed on him. As refreshing as that was, he wondered again if he was wrong to pursue her. A kind man might allow her another Season or two to gain some confidence in herself and Society. As a duchess, his wife would be expected to be poised and in command of life. As his wife, she would have to endure the rumors of illicit relations that would probably not vanish simply because he married.

  While he’d had the companionship of two demimondes in the last five years, he knew the gossips had linked him with many more. People loved to talk, and were much more concerned with the reaction they achieved from the listener than the truth of the tidbit being served. A kind and gentle woman held great appeal as a wife, but would she be strong enough to ignore the lies she’d likely hear?

  He perused the room again, his gaze landing on each of the young ladies his mother had invited there for him to choose among. He would rather be at a horse auction. All these ladies had varying degrees of beauty, and his mother proclaimed them all to be accomplished. Yet only one piqued his interest. Lady Charlotte had stopped to speak with her mother. Langley moved casually in her direction.

  He got within a few feet when Miss Martin suddenly appeared in his path. He stopped short of knocking her over, grabbing her arms to keep her from falling. “Careful there, Miss Martin.”

  She leaned forward as if she wished to have been caught fully in his embrace, but he held her tightly away. Her nose wrinkled then she smiled up at him, her lashes fluttering. “Thank you, Your Grace. I seem to have caught my boot in my hem.”

  Sidestepping her, Langley looked to see where Lady Charlotte had gone, but Miss Martin was again in his way. She laid her hand on his arm. “Will you play whist, sir? I am in need of a partner.”

  “I’m not playing at the moment.” He spied a young man sitting alone. “Lord Bingham, will you partner Miss Martin in whist? She’s an apt player.”

  Young Bingham sprang to his feet, a flush coloring the pale skin between his spots. “Delighted, Miss Martin.” He led her to the table so quickly she didn’t have the chance to protest.

  Having escaped that persistent miss, Langley again sought Lady Charlotte just in time to see her walk away with the lady who’d come with the Martins. What was her name? Brooky would tell him his inability to recall the name was more proof he didn’t pay attention to those he felt were beneath him, but that was nonsense. Just because someone failed to make an impression, it didn’t make Langley a snob. He knew the name…Flowers, Farmer, no…Fielding, that was it.

  Langley followed the young ladies to the backgammon table. How utterly disagreeable. How did one make conversation with two people concentrating on a game? One didn’t. He wasn’t going to let that stop him. “Ladies, are you enjoying your afternoon?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Miss Fielding replied without looking up from the game.

  “It’s quite pleasant, isn’t it?” Lady Charlotte asked.

  “Rather a bit more active than my usual day, I’ll admit.” He folded his arms across his chest.

  “I imagine you spend your afternoons working,” she said.

  “Yes, I suppose so.” Or boxing, when he was in Town, or…did it really matter? He had no desire to speak of such banalities. He wanted to know if Lady Charlotte had read Voltaire or John Locke, or if she’d ever enjoyed freshly-picked strawberries. Some ridiculous sickness was taking over his mind, requiring that he learn every last detail that made up her being.

  Lady Marian Whimpole approached him, swaying from side to side like a ship’s mast as she gazed at him with calves’ eyes. “We need a fourth for our table, sir. Will you join us?”

  He had no intention of doing so, lessons in small talk be damned. “I see Mr. Toulson is unoccupied. Toulson,” he called out. “Will you play cards?”

  He settled that matter easily enough. The young ladies were becoming more rabid for his attention. Why had Mother felt this was a sound scheme, to parade him about before a house full o
f marriage-minded females like a horse on the auction block? If only Lady Charlotte could be convinced to accept him, he could put an end to all this nonsense.

  Charlotte bit back a groan as Miss Fielding bumped yet another of her markers out of play. Her concentration was nil with the duke standing just over her shoulder. He was so close she could smell his cologne, the woody scent so masculine it made her shiver. Shutting out all thoughts of Langley, she reached for the dice to take her turn.

  “Perhaps when you and Miss Armstrong finish your game, we could take a walk in the garden,” Langley suggested.

  Glancing to see if her opponent noticed the mistake, Charlotte said, “If Miss Fielding has no objection, that would be lovely.”

  Now that she was looking up, Charlotte could see the other guests were spending more time looking her way than they did their cards. The Martin sisters leaned close together and whispered behind their hands. Charlotte’s stomach sank. Everyone had noticed Langley’s marked attention to her.

  Oh, dear. When word spread to London that the Duke of Langley had singled her out at his home and she didn’t marry him, assumptions would be made the duke had found her lacking. She’d never considered that possibility. She needed to deflect some of his attention to one of the other girls.

  Langley cleared his throat. “Yes, it’s Miss Fielding, forgive my weak memory. Miss Fielding, if you would care to walk, I shall enlist my friend Lord Pembrook to join us.”

  Miss Fielding nodded with a small smile. “Thank you, I would enjoy that.”

  This was the first time Charlotte had seen the duke consider someone else’s feelings, other than when he offered her books in the library. This could be a deeper side of him he was now exposing, or she might have made an impression on him. Either way, it was an attribute she could appreciate. Assuming she hadn’t imagined his motivation in inviting his friend to join them.

  When Miss Fielding moved her last marker off the board, ending the game, the girls rose. Lord Pembrook offered his arm to Miss Fielding, while Langley gave his to Charlotte.

  The two Misses Martin followed them out onto the terrace beyond which lay an open formal garden and the hedge maze. Charlotte shivered when a breeze stirred her skirts. “I believe the weather is finally turning cooler.”

  “Are you warm enough?” Langley asked.

  “As long as we continue to walk, I shall be fine. The sun feels heavenly.”

  “I should have put on my bonnet,” Miss Fielding complained. “Mother will be cross with me.”

  They wandered on a path leading through beds of low-growing plants, which were probably quite breathtaking when in bloom. Now, they were just mounds in various shades of greens and grays, reaching for the thinning sunlight.

  The duke was quiet for a time, then asked, “Would you prefer to retrieve your bonnet and spencer?”

  “We won’t be out here very long, I imagine. There’s no need to go back for them now.”

  “If you’re certain…”

  “I will advise you if I change my mind, sir. Why don’t you tell me the history of your garden?”

  The look he gave her suggested she’d gone mad. “You really wish to know?”

  She kept her response low so the others wouldn’t hear. “You will make your conquests much more easily if you simply answer a question rather than questioning the integrity of your companion.”

  “I’m beginning to regret agreeing to this scheme of yours, Lady Charlotte. What if I simply desired to know you better, and not the others here?”

  Her stomach fluttered at the idea. How silly. She wasn’t in love with him, so his flattery wasn’t important. “That would defeat your purpose, wouldn’t it?” She made the mistake of looking up at him, only to see the flare of something she didn’t recognize burning in his eyes.

  “How can you be so certain what my intentions are?”

  A nervous laugh escaped her. “With our mothers sitting together in plain view of the French doors, I don’t fear you’ll try anything compromising.”

  His smile spread. “Perhaps you are too trusting.” He turned suddenly and led her toward the maze.

  Charlotte debated making certain the others followed them, but decided not to make a show of her concern. He wanted her to protest, to be shocked. She would do the opposite.

  Miss Martin rushed past them toward the entrance. “Let’s hide in the maze and make the gentlemen find us.”

  Her sister squealed in agreement, and they ran into the hedges. Charlotte looked at Miss Fielding. “Shall we play, too?”

  “Why not?” Miss Fielding dropped Lord Pembrook’s arm and hurried after the other girls. Charlotte followed. There were several openings in the maze walls early on. Not knowing where the Martin sisters had gone, she turned to the left. Miss Fielding went right.

  Charlotte continued to make the turns, wondering just how large the maze was and how she would know when the game was finished. She heard laughter, and Lord Pembrook’s voice calling out for Miss Fielding.

  Reaching a dead end, Charlotte waited. She stood in the shade, and while the breeze didn’t reach her there, neither did the warmth of the sun. Her thoughts began to drift…What if Lord Pembrook found her, and not the duke? That would be disappointing. She finally had to admit she wanted Langley to find her. He was behaving so oddly toward her. Flirting, suggesting he didn’t care about the other girls in attendance, only Charlotte.

  But that couldn’t be true. He couldn’t be in love just days after asking her name. He’d singled her out; that was all. Now it was easier to continue his pursuit of her rather than taking the time to know all the other girls.

  How far would he go in his pursuit?

  She imagined him making the turn to discover her there. He would smile, his eyes lighting with his success. He wouldn’t call out to alert the others, he would simply saunter down the short path, stopping directly in front of her.

  He would take her by the shoulders and crush her against his chest, his broad hands stroking down her back as he lowered his lips to hers. She could almost feel the heat of his body burning through her gown, taste his lips on hers.

  Laughter rang out and she blinked in surprise to see she was alone. Heavens, she was no longer cold. But she couldn’t continue to stand there and wait.

  She retraced her steps back to the last intersection, choosing the opposite direction in an attempt to make her way out the exit. A left turn, and a right led her to another intersection. She went right.

  Charlotte followed the path through two more turns and nearly collided with bodies around that bend. Gasping, she stepped back, only to realize it was the Duke of Langley entangled with Miss Martin in a passionate embrace.

  Her eyes burning, Charlotte turned and stumbled her way back to the last intersection. There she found Lord Pembrook who caught her by the shoulders before she tumbled into him.

  “Careful now, Lady Charlotte. Did you find yourself hopelessly lost?”

  “Please get me out of here.” She blinked hard to keep her tears at bay.

  “Of course. It’s just a right turn and two lefts from here.” Lord Pembrook took her arm and led the way.

  Her breaths came short and quick, pain keeping her from breathing deeply. How could she have misjudged the duke’s attentions so severely?

  It would seem he’d made his decision, and that lady wasn’t Charlotte.

  Chapter Six

  Langley removed the talon-like fingers digging into his shoulders and pushed Miss Martin away. Never one to turn away a willing female in the past, he had no desire to kiss her, or whatever else she had in mind. “Miss Martin, I don’t recall offering myself as the prize for your little game. You’d do best to find your way out of the maze and stay close to your sister. I can assure you, the Dowager Duchess will not believe I’ve resorted to compromising an innocent.”

  The scandal-seeking chit had the nerve to smile seductively. “You mistake me, Your Grace, if you fear I’m seeking marriage. Or that I’m innocent. I
would be more than happy to continue an assignation once you have taken a wife.”

  He glared down at her, his lip curling with the sour taste in his mouth. “It won’t be with me.”

  How had he lost control of this day? He should suggest they go for rides in his curricle, to finally be alone with Lady Charlotte. At least then he could speak to her. Find a way to convince her of the suitability of a match between them.

  He would make her a good husband, no matter what she feared. He might not be the romantic hero of the novels she enjoys, but he would be a faithful, kind husband. That, along with the obvious comfort of his station, made a good offer.

  He stepped out of the maze into the sunlight and looked for everyone. The laughter from within the hedges had gone quiet, so he assumed the others had found their way out. Yet the only person sitting on the nearby benches was Miss Martin’s sister. “Where are the others?”

  “They’ve returned to the house, Your Grace.”

  Frowning, he thanked her and headed to the house, not waiting to see if Miss Martin had exited. He’d send a footman to be sure the Martin sisters returned. One of the older, sensible footmen, to protect his employee from an unpleasant scene. He hadn’t been inside the maze overlong, so why had everyone left? Brooky, of all people, should have remained.

  His mother was alone in the game room, another bad omen. She rose and held her head high. “Langley, attend me in the morning room.”

  He followed her down the hall like a penitent child. What could he have done to earn her displeasure? His mother must have spies planted about the grounds to report his every move. She couldn’t have heard about the kiss already when he’d beaten Miss Martin inside the house.

  Mother strode to her favorite chair, shooed the toy spaniel from it and sat. “Sit,” she barked.

  The spaniel did so immediately. Langley followed suit, choosing a nearby chair rather than the floor.

  “Explain yourself.”

  He grimaced, not about to confess to something she’d not yet discovered. At what age would his mother quit treating him like a child? “Am I not to know the charges I face?”