The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride

by Tiffany Clare

  “When I saw it, I thought of you.”

  “It’s so beautiful. But it’s far too much.” Tears filled her eyes but did not fall.

  “I knew it would suit you perfectly when I found it. Accept it as a token of our long friendship.” And our impending marriage, he wanted to add, but held off.

  She looked as though she’d argue further, but instead she ran her fingers over the piece again as she stared at her reflection in the mirror before meeting his gaze.

  She cleared her throat and stood, breaking their connection.

  Her hands pressed over the bodice and skirts of her dress. “Am I presentable for our outing, or will I need to change?”

  “You always look ravishing.”

  She smiled at his compliment. “You sounded like Tristan for a moment. Speaking of … when will he join us?”

  Hayden’s smile widened. “We’ll be stopping at his place first.”

  “Is our destination to remain a surprise?”

  She slid on bronze-colored gloves that matched the ribbon tied around her hair.

  “It’s only fair, considering your secrecy last night.”

  “At least tell me if we’re staying in London.”

  She took his arm and led him out of her boudoir and down to the foyer. Wilson helped her with a silk short jacket that matched her dress.

  “I know your preference for remaining in Town. I also recall you saying something about the lack of balls this past month, and it just so happens that this will be your last chance to attend one till the little season starts up.”

  “Who would host a ball at this time of year?” When he only raised one brow in response, she demanded, “Give me at least one clue!”

  “I’ve already confirmed that Tristan will join us. If I told you any more, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

  “What if I’m not dressed for the occasion? You know how important it is to me to make a good impression.”

  “Yes, to find this new husband of yours,” he said drolly. She would know soon enough that he had designs on her and that he’d be her only suitor.

  She bumped her shoulder against his arm. Unable to keep his hands to himself a moment longer, he wrapped them around her small waist and lifted her into the waiting carriage.

  He nearly took the seat across from her but stopped himself and squished in next to her. Tristan’s townhouse was close, so they made it there quickly. Their friend was waiting for them outside.

  Tristan kissed Jez’s cheeks, then sat on the seat across from them. “I hear we’re to cause a stir tonight.”

  “And apparently find Jez a husband,” Hayden added, only because it would keep Tristan occupied in finding eligible suitors while Hayden asked for her hand in marriage.

  Tristan looked at Jez, one brow cocked. “This should make for an incredibly interesting evening.”

  It was just like Tristan not to question Jez’s motives. She was always the exception to the rule for them all. They did not cosset or shield her from any truths, and why should they? They let her do as she pleased. How could they not when she was one of them? An equal in every sense of the word.

  “Will it be the card room or the ballroom first?” Tristan asked.

  “The company is always more interesting in the card room,” Jez said.

  “And most of the men there are likely married,” Hayden pointed out.

  Jez pouted. “I despise dancing with gentlemen who have two left feet. Lessons seem to be a thing of the past.”

  “I’m more than happy to lead you out in your first dance of the evening,” Tristan offered. “I’ll show the young bucks how it’s done.”

  Jez cheered up immediately and gave them both a winning, yet mischievous, smile. “Now that is a perfect plan. And so long as we don’t run into Torrance, we’ll have a fabulous evening. That man was such a boor to me when last we met.”

  She referred to the last “decent” ball they had all attended. Torrance had dared to insult Jez for her presence on the day of her husband’s funeral. Hayden had of course defended her and had the incident under control—but Jez wouldn’t let the situation rest and had outright insulted Torrance’s very manhood. It wasn’t as though Torrance could call out a woman for the insult, either. They’d left the ball shortly after that incident, but Hayden had been ready to deck Torrance right between the eyes for his insolence. Yes, they could do without running into that particular cad.

  The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a large four-story brick house on the edge of Berkeley Square.

  Jez nibbled at her lower lip. “I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with the Glenmoores.” Awe filled her voice. “Then again, who wouldn’t invite the Duke of Alsborough to every event running in Town? Any smart mother would want to snag a duke for their marriageable daughter.”

  “We’re both full of surprises these days.” Hayden placed his hand at the base of her back possessively as he helped her from her seat.

  “What have I missed?” Tristan asked, taking Jessica’s hand as she stepped down from the carriage.

  “We attended a Malvern masquerade,” Jez said.

  Tristan’s mouth dropped open before he could compose his surprise. It took him a few tries before he could mutter anything coherent. “And how did you procure an invite?”

  “I didn’t,” Jez clarified. “As it turns out Fallon is good for something now that he’s dead.”

  “I’m impressed, though disappointed you didn’t invite me.” Tristan took her arm as they ascended the stairs at the entrance of the house.

  “It was a plus one, darling.”

  “And you choose that lout.” Tristan motioned toward Hayden with a sour expression.

  Jez only smiled. Hayden realized—when he should have clued into the fact before—that she tended to acted riskier when she was with Tristan. Tristan always encouraged the worst behavior in everyone. Now that Hayden thought about it, it was interesting that she’d chosen him even knowing his proclivity for tamer social gatherings. Looking at the other side of the coin, she had attended in the hopes that she’d find Warren in a disparaging, unredeemable situation.

  “Well, if another invitation finds its way to your household, do call on me. I’m a lot more fun than this stick-in-the-mud you insist on dragging about to our social gatherings.”

  “I’m far better company than you’ll ever be, dear friend,” Hayden argued.

  “You’re both wonderful. And while I enjoy being fought over by you both, you’re bound to frighten away any suitors tonight, so be quiet on the topic now that we’ve arrived.”

  “You’re not honestly going through with another marriage, are you, Jez?” Tristan asked, suddenly somber.

  “If I had a choice I wouldn’t even consider it. But choices are for widows left rich by their doting husbands. We all know how much Fallon reviled our union.”

  Put that way, neither of them disagreed with her—not while they were in public. People like Fallon had reservations in the worst kind of hell for their misdeeds. Even if half the people Fallon dealt with on a daily basis were blind to how sinister a man he was, he was paying for his sins now.

  As they entered the foyer Hayden turned to Jessica. “Will we separate here to let you go to the meeting area for the women? Or shall we cause a stir and skip that particular formality?”

  There was no hesitation in Jessica’s decision. “Let’s skip right to the dancing part.”

  Hayden was happy to oblige. Tristan took her short jacket and passed it to a footman to deal with before they headed into the marble-columned ballroom that would make any Greek historian salivate at the architecture.

  * * *

  Jessica didn’t fail to notice the way other guests looked at her. It was more difficult to ignore them then it had ever been in the past. She would have to pretend it didn’t bother her—even though it did hurt her more than she cared to admit.

  She pasted on her brightest smile as she walked forward on Hayden’s arm. Perhaps the othe
r women in attendance were jealous. Telling herself that small lie gave her the added confidence she needed to stare everyone in the eye when they glanced her way.

  She was here for one purpose, and that was not to impress the women who so loathed her. They didn’t matter, she kept telling herself. But their hate for her still hurt.

  She had to find a husband or risk falling for Hayden with every sweeping gesture he’d made toward her. She touched the pearl and diamond strands at her throat. His actions were less and less platonic. Had that been recent? Had she ignored it before? She thought maybe she had and felt like all kinds of fool for not noticing.

  Oh, Hayden, why did you keep it a secret for so long? she wondered.

  She had to stop thinking about him, so she thought about the fact that she was at her first “decent” ball in a month and it felt good to be back in the game, to leave behind all the sorrow and anger from her ordeal since Fallon’s death. There also happened to be plenty of bachelors to choose from at tonight’s party and none of these men could be as cruel as Fallon. That just wasn’t a possibility.

  Tristan offered his hand to her for the first dance. She smiled, thankful for his good humor even though it was obvious that she was not a welcome guest—if a scathing, reproving look could kill, she’d be dead on the ground from the glares she was receiving.

  Hayden cut in before they could make it onto the dance floor. “Sorry, old chap,” Hayden teased, as that moniker was something Tristan often used for Hayden. “Her first dance should be with a man worthy of her hand.”

  Jessica blushed as she recalled their previous evening with perfect clarity. While she made others flush with her brand of bluntness, she never found herself in a position to do the same.

  “Hayden,” she admonished, because she couldn’t seem to articulate anything coherent beyond that.

  “You know I’m a better dance partner than Tristan.”

  She smiled and shook her head, but she did give Hayden her hand. He was a very good dance partner. Probably the best she’d have tonight, not that she would tell Tristan any such thing.

  “Don’t worry,” Tristan said. “I can find my own amusement while the two of you take a turn around the floor.”

  Hayden pulled her away with a sly grin.

  Jessica gave him a questioning look. “Are we not waiting for the next set?”

  “You’re never one to shy away from living life to the fullest,” Hayden said, leading her toward the other dancers. “And there is no time like the present, when they are playing a redowa.”

  She looked up at him. “You’re right, as always.” She narrowed her gaze. “It’s rather annoying, you know.”

  He smiled in response as he pulled her into a closed position, her hand on his shoulder, his at the middle of her back, and their free hands clasped tightly together. The waltz-like dance had them spinning every few steps in time with the orchestra. It felt as though he held her closer than he needed to, and while other paired dancers talked, they only stared at each other.

  It was far too intimate and reminiscent of everything that had happened the night before. Jessica knew she needed to break the silence between them even if it had to be done with mundane conversation.

  “And who will you dance with next?” she asked. Most of the young ladies present would clamor for a chance to be on a duke’s arm, especially Hayden’s. She tried not to let that fact bother her, but sometimes she relished having him all to herself.

  “Depends on the dance. The first real waltz will be yours.”

  “You cannot monopolize my time, or my dance card, this evening.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “I most certainly can. Besides, you aren’t wearing a dance card.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at the obvious as they took another turn around the room. Before the song had a proper chance of finishing, Tristan stole her from Hayden for a quadrille.

  “You’ll both tire me out before the hour is done at this rate.” She was breathless and she’d only had three dances so far. Though all were fast paced.

  “Is such a thing possible?”

  A month ago, perhaps not. Since she’d been ill and on the mend, yes, anything was possible. She’d never say so, since Tristan was the only friend to not know about her condition.

  “Some might consider me an old crone now that I’m widowed. Ten years of marriage is a long time.”

  “It happens often enough—an old goat marrying someone too junior to complement his age, and then when he’s had his fill and finally croaks he knows he’s leaving his merry young wife to find someone more to her choosing.”

  “I certainly hope you’re right that I’ll find my match. But I don’t think Fallon ever wanted me happy.” They broke apart to partner off with other guests.

  When Tristan took her hand again, he asked, “Must you marry at all?”

  “Fallon made sure my misery would never end by cutting me entirely out of the estate. He knew how much I hated the institution of marriage, and he knew I’d have no choice but to marry again. So, yes, I unfortunately must.”

  Tristan tapped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze before her thoughts wandered too far in the direction of Hayden. She caught glimpses of him on every rotation and almost wished he were still dancing with her so she wasn’t having a conversation with Tristan about whom she should marry when it no longer seemed like an ideal solution. She wasn’t sure when she’d decided that, but the thought of conversing with anyone other than Tristan or Hayden tonight made her nervous and uneasy.

  “Cheer up, dearest. We’ll find the perfect husband for you.”

  Tristan was always looking on the brighter side of things. That was one of the reasons she adored him as much as she did. Forever an optimist. How she wished she could be more like him in that regard.

  “I’d offer,” he said, “but we’d make each other miserable, since we’re more like brother and sister than we could ever play the role of lovers.”

  Her face soured up. She didn’t like that idea any more than he. And she ignored the niggling voice reminding her of another friendship that did not feel like a sibling relationship. “Well, who are my potential suitors then?”

  Jessica made a point of looking around the ballroom—all the most revered members of the ton were present. And scandal was never afoot at a Glenmoore ball, though with her presence that might change after tonight. Even if she was on her best behavior.

  There were a number of eligible gentlemen, a few out to please their mamas, but they did not interest her. A few of the married gentlemen danced with the wallflowers present, making them feel less like outsiders.

  “What of Longsmere?” Tristan nodded toward a lanky gentleman directly across from them.

  “There are rumors he’s in love with a married woman.” Jessica did not want to be a second thought or a burden when she married again.

  “Balderdash, Jez.” Tristan shook his head. “I’ve known the man for fifteen years.”

  “Just because you went to school together does not mean you really know the type of man he is.”

  And men changed behind closed doors. She had firsthand experience with that.

  “You’re right. Which reminds me that he’s far too boring to have caught the attention of a married woman.”

  “Not if she’s lonely,” Jessica said. “When marriage is made for the sake of convenience, it is often an unhappy arrangement for both partners.”

  “I think most couples make do over time, and learn to appreciate each other in the run of their marriage. Fallon was an arse, and would have never been happy, no matter whom he married.”

  “Well, if you think Longsmere’s a match, ask him if he’ll dance with me.”

  Tristan smiled down at her. “I definitely will,” he said before passing her off to the partner next to her.

  She ended up in the arms of Lord Crosthwait. A middle-aged man who was generally quiet and let his wife do most of the talking. But he had a kind disposition from what Jessic
a remembered from their few interactions.

  “Good evening, my lord,” she said with a sweet smile.

  His lips flapped, but nothing came out other than a startled gasp.

  “I know I’m not generally found at these types of affairs, but it’s a pleasure to dance with you. I don’t think I’ve had this honor until now.”

  When she gave him a friendly smile, he seemed to put more distance between them, his hands barely touching her.

  When he passed her back to Tristan, she swore she heard a sigh of relief.

  “I can’t be that terrible a dance partner. I didn’t step on his toes once; how could I when he tried to put three feet between us?”

  “Ignore the lout. Though I thought he was going to have a fit of apoplexy dancing with the most beautiful woman present.”

  When she looked toward Lord Crosthwait, he was wiping his brow with an already damp handkerchief. The poor man didn’t know what to make of his fleeting encounter with her. But it didn’t appear that she was the first to flounder him this evening. That made her feel marginally better.

  “Do you think most of the attendees dislike me?” she asked in a small voice.

  “Never, dearest. You are far too stunning a creature for the awkward men in the room—which there are many—to ever have the gumption to start a decent conversation with. Freethinking women scare them and they are precisely the sort of men you need to avoid at all costs.”

  “You’re just saying that to be nice.” And it was working, because she was smiling and in higher spirits.

  “I wouldn’t dream of lying about this. Besides, you’re liable to shove me out a moving carriage if I ever dared lie to you.”

  “I might,” she agreed with a small laugh.

  Tristan eventually twirled them right off the dance floor and toward the punch table.

  Hayden was waiting with champagne for her. “I know this is your favorite.”

  “The new Perrier-Jouët?” she asked as she reached for the fizzing flute.

  Tristan took a sip before her. “Indeed,” he said. “The Glenmoores have spared no expense for the final ball of the season. That is probably the only way to have such a showing with the stench of London during this heat. I’m off to snag you a few dance partners. I’m sorry to leave you in the clutches of Hayden. I promise not to be long.”