A Deal with the Duke

by Patty Bryant

  Savitri felt a familiar sense of stubbornness fill her. “No. No, I won’t.”

  Madame Dubois smiled. “Very good, dearie. I can see you’ll be a duchess worth the name.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Alexander knew something was wrong.

  He generally preferred to spend his evenings anywhere other than Almack’s Assembly Rooms. A man couldn’t even drink there to make the time pass faster; the lady patronesses who governed the dances didn’t allow for alcohol to be served, only lemonade and tea. But for once he had looked forward to it – simply because Savitri would be there. He wanted to embrace her on the dance floor. He wanted to see her receive the adulation she deserved. He was capable of being a jealous man, but tonight his pride planned to take satisfaction in showing off his bride, beautiful and intelligent and worth a hundred of any of his simpering peers.

  But the evening was not turning out the way he had planned. He would have liked to pick Savitri up at the Pulteney and drive her to Almack’s in his own carriage, but since he was escorting his brother and sister-in-law as well it would have been irritatingly crowded. He had arranged for Savitri to have her own carriage just for circumstances like these, but he still regretted the loss of an opportunity to speak to her in private. Ever since she had moved to the Pulteney he had seen her only in formal social settings, dinners and teas and morning visits. He longed for a chance to see her hidden side, the wicked humor and sharp cynical observations he loved. Instead she was all polite decorum, and important and valuable as that was, he wanted more.

  He was not getting it now. Savitri had arrived at Almack’s in a cream-colored gown that should have made her brown skin glow against its paleness, but instead she looked dull. Her forehead was pinched as though she was fighting off a headache, but when he had asked her if she was well, she had insisted everything was fine. He could tell she was lying, but had no idea how to make her tell him the truth.

  “Shall we dance?” Alexander offered.

  “No.” Savitri softened her refusal with a smile. “Not yet. I’d like to sit for now, if that’s all right?”

  “Of course,” Alexander said, though her request only added to his sense of wrongness. He escorted her to the seats lined along the wall, noticing the way she anxiously scanned the crowd as they walked. He glanced around himself but couldn’t detect what she was searching for. Most of the people here were strangers to Savitri, except for Louisa and Bernard, of course, but surely they wouldn’t have given her that look of nervous oppression.

  Savitri sat, then looked up at him with an obviously forced expression of contentment. “Why don’t you go and dance? I’ll join you shortly.”

  “I’d prefer to stay with you.”

  “No, really. I want to be alone for a few minutes, to find my bearings.” A hint of friendly mockery crept into her voice, reassuring him that she wasn’t entirely distraught.“You’ll only distract me.”

  Still Alexander hesitated. “If you’re certain –“

  “I insist,” she said firmly.

  Alexander was more sure than ever that there was a problem to be fixed here, but he couldn’t see a reason to refuse a direct command and so gave her a correct bow and left her to herself. He strolled along the edge of the dance floor, wondering how to fill his time until he could return to Savitri’s side, when he was confronted by the short, plump figure of Mrs. Pemberton.

  “Your grace!” she said. “How glad I am to encounter you. And that must be the lucky woman who finally caught you. After spending years admiring your skill in dodging every cap flung at you by the most renowned beauties of each Season, I have to admit that I never thought to see you actually wed. I owe her congratulations, even though my own daughters will hold it against me. I did promise them I’d do my best to see you marry one or the other of them.”

  Alexander snorted. He’d never had the slightest intention of marrying either of Mrs. Pemberton’s mousy daughters, though if they’d had their mother’s forthrightness he might have considered it.

  Mrs. Pemberton peeked around his side to study Savitri, then looked back up at him. “Though I must say, I thought the woman destined to become the duchess of Clermont the Cold would look a bit happier about it.”

  “She won’t tell me what’s wrong,” Alexander said, surprising himself with the confession.

  Mrs. Pemberton raised one eyebrow. “You really don’t know, do you? You’re intelligent enough, for a man and a lord, and you still can’t see what’s going on in your own house. Not to mention all around you.” She shook her head, then briskly stuck out a hand. “Let us dance.”

  It wasn’t, strictly speaking, correct for a woman to ask a man to dance, but Alexander was too eager for her assistance to quibble over this point of etiquette. He took Mrs. Pemberton’s hand and led her onto the dance floor just as the opening notes of a quadrille began. That was lucky; they would be able to speak more easily than if it had been a country dance. They found their places among the other dancers and moved into the first steps.

  Alexander could wait no longer. “Tell me what you know.”

  “I’ll do better than that: I’ll teach you to see what you’ve missed.” Mrs. Pemberton nodded in Savitri’s direction. “Look at her, sitting on her own. You think that’s unremarkable?”

  “I offered to accompany her,” Alexander muttered, stung by what he took as an implied accusation.

  Mrs. Pemberton sighed in vexation. “I’m not speaking of you. Consider the other people here for once in your life. A maiden making her first appearance at Almack’s, moreover one rumored to be engaged to the best prize on the marriage market? She should be besieged with curious onlookers eager to see for themselves what sort of creature she is. Her dance card should have been filled before she was all the way through the door, and every woman here should be looking for an excuse to invite her to tea. She should be fighting off the crowds with a stick. What she shouldn’t be is sitting alone in a corner like an elderly aunt.”

  Alexander considered this as he took hands with the woman across from him, and had to admit that Mrs. Pemberton spoke sense. “Is it her color?” he asked as soon as they came back together, pitching his voice low so that it would reach her ears alone.

  “Some of the haughtier matrons would love to be shocked by it, for all that there’s plenty of nabobs who came back to town with a brown daughter and no one’s ever turned up their nose at those dowries. But no. It might cause a bit of talk, but that alone wouldn’t be enough to drive off all of the crowd.”

  “Then what?”

  Mrs. Pemberton frowned. “I really shouldn’t say, you know. I’ve always considered it to be a shabby matter when an outsider inserts themselves into a family tangle.” She turned away to the man on her other side, allowing him to lead her on a promenade around their set of dancers.

  Alexander waited for her return on tenterhooks, searching through his mind for a bribe to offer her if she chose not to help him voluntarily. But when she was once more by his side and the music gave them a moment to stand in place, he found he needn’t have bothered.

  “But I can see you’ll get nowhere on your own,” Mrs. Pemberton said with resignation, “so I’ll tell you. It’s that sister of yours, Lady Louisa. I can’t say why she’s taken against your bride but she surely has. Ever since she arrived she’s been going from one friend to another – and some who’d I thought were hardly more than distant acquaintances of hers – and whatever it is that she tells them, it’s keeping them away from your Miss Booth. Given how far she’s spread her influence, I’d say she started well before tonight. But I can’t speak to that; it’s only speculation. I’ve watched her doing it sure enough here, though.”

  Startled, Alexander turned to find Louisa in the crowd. He looked first through the other dancers because Louisa loved to dance and took any opportunity to do so. Finding her nowhere near the ongoing quadrille was almost unusual enough to be confirmation of Mrs. Pemberton’s claim on its own. When he finally caug
ht sight of her, she was standing in intimate conversation with a brown-haired woman he didn’t recognize, but even as he watched Louisa raised her fan to hide her mouth as she whispered something, then both woman glanced toward Savitri with narrowed, disapproving eyes.

  Fury took fire in his chest with the heat and suddenness of kindling touched by a flame, and he set off toward her. However, he hadn’t gone more than half a step when Mrs. Pemberton caught his arm and tugged him back to her side, making the movement look like part of the dance. He was surprised by the strength in her grip, but then Mrs. Pemberton hadn’t been born to this life of dances and teas. Her husband owned an iron factory somewhere in the north of England, and his wealth from that endeavor had propelled him to a seat in the House of Commons, a position he had used with such political astuteness that he had brought his family along with him into the cream of London society. That had been years ago now, but the tough tendons inside Mrs. Pemberton’s white kidskin gloves hinted at a girlhood spent working on a farm.

  And now that same steely vigor was in her voice as she hissed at him, despite the simultaneous warm smile she aimed at the couple across the set from them. “Don’t you dare! If you cause a scene you’ll destroy any chance your Miss Booth has at coming out of this without permanent injury to her standing.”

  “I have to do something,” Alexander growled.

  “Fine.” Mrs. Pemberton released her hold on him. “Go ahead, storm over there and give Lady Louisa the take-down she richly deserves. Shout and scold to your heart’s content.” She paused just long enough that Alexander was tempted to do exactly that, but she spoke again a moment before he could. “Whatever rumors she’s been spreading, such behavior will seem to prove them true. As many people as she’s managed to reach with her gossip, the story of the Duke of Clermont ranting and raving like a tyrant will be sure to spread the story to a hundred times more.”

  Alexander cursed under his breath. He knew she was right, as much as he hated it. “Then what do I do? I refuse to let Savitri suffer for the sake of her association with me.”

  A slow smile spread across Mrs. Pemberton’s face. “Are you asking me for help, Your Grace? I am sure that I would be happy to provide it, although I would have to ask that you do me a favor in return.”

  Another damn deal. He seemed surrounded by them lately. “Name your price,” he said begrudgingly. No cost was too high if it would save Savitri from this social quagmire.

  “The proposed Game Laws are coming up for a vote soon,” Mrs. Pemberton said, speaking for the first time in this conversation at a normal volume. It was perfectly reasonable for her to be overheard discussing politics, of course. She briefly switched places with the woman across from her, clasped hands with the man there to turn in a circle, and then returned to her original place. “My husband has taken a strong stance against them. What is your position, Your Grace?”

  Alexander understood her far-from-subtle hint. It would cost him a great deal to accept her demands, since his usual colleagues were all for the proposed change to the laws. Nonetheless, he gritted his teeth and spoke. “I’m against them as well.”

  “Why, that’s excellent!” Mrs. Pemberton clapped her hands, smiling up at him with a slightly ironic twist to her lips. “Then we shall be allies.”

  The dance came to an end just then with a flourish from the musicians in their corner, and the men and women around Alexander bowed or curtsied to one another before going their separate ways. He took Mrs. Pemberton’s hand and led her in the direction of the punch bowl. “Now tell me what to do to protect Savitri,” he said quickly and quietly.

  “Oh, you need do nothing. No, no, leave the matter to me.” She patted his hand in a manner that reminded Alexander strongly of his own mother. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “By yourself? Are you certain? Will Louisa listen to you?”

  Mrs. Pemberton laughed with the rich satisfaction of a cat who’d found the cream. “There’s no need for her to listen to me. Lady Louisa might think she can sway the opinion of society, but that’s only because no one’s set up against her before. Oh, she’s a pretty thing, and she does have friends enough to convince the crowd to follow her lead – for tonight. But Lady Louisa’s never held a weighty thought in her head for longer than five minutes, not to mention that she’s been away for too long to know where best to use her influence. If I can’t turn the tide of a few malicious rumors from such an amateur, I’ll hang up my cap and retire to the country. You can leave it safe in my hands.” She let go of his arm and stepped away, pausing to look back at him with a conspiratorial grin on her round, wrinkled face. “Go and dance with your bride.”

  It seemed like excellent advice to Alexander, so he took it.

  When he approached Savitri was staring fixedly at her hands folded in her lap, but she looked up with a smile when he touched her shoulder. The time alone seemed to have done her some good; the strain at the corner of her eyes had faded somewhat and she seemed less afraid. She knows what Louisa’s done, Alexander realized. She’s known for some time. To come to Almack’s in full awareness of what awaited her was an act of courage equal to any gentleman facing a duel, and he hadn’t even seen it happening right in front of his eyes. He opened his mouth to ask her why she hadn’t told him, but shut it on a second thought.

  She had warned him. She had told him that society wouldn’t approve of their marriage, that take her as his wife would be more difficult than anything he had done before. And in return he had promised her that none of it mattered, that together they would break the rules and find a happy ending neither had thought possible.

  Now it was time to keep that promise.

  “Thank you for letting me sit,” she was saying. “I was so worried about what my reception would be like that I had to force myself to even come tonight. But I feel better now that I’ve taken some deep breaths and seen that it’s really not so bad.” She looked about the room in apparent contentment. Alexander remembered what Mrs. Pemberton had said about Savitri’s isolation and wondered if Savitri really didn’t know that she was being singled out or if she was pretending for his sake.

  He extended his hand. “Dance with me.”

  Savitri laughed. “Yes, I suppose that is what we’re here for, after all.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her from the chair to the dance floor. The musicians had let silence fall briefly after the end of the quadrille, but now they were beginning to play once more, and Alexander recognized this song as one meant for a waltz. Indeed, couples were already taking their places in a large circle around the edge of the dance floor.

  “Do you know this dance?” he asked quietly, not wanting to embarrass her if she did not.

  Savitri tipped her head to the side. “Sir, please consider: I have spent years attending dance classes for season after season of school girls, when I was not teaching them myself. I should think I’m a rather more knowledgable dancer than you.”

  “More knowledgeable, perhaps, but more experienced?” Alexander put his hands on her waist, pulling her close to him. The waltz was considered somewhat scandalous with its close physical contact between the bodies of the dancers, the way it encouraged partners to stare into one another’s eyes. It had been banned at Almack’s for many years, and only recently declared acceptable.

  Alexander now understood. With Savitri’s waist in his grasp, the swell of her hips beginning just below where his palms pressed to her sides, he forgot all about the other dancers and the watching crowd. She lifted her arms to place her hands on his shoulders, and he had a sudden sense memory of her embracing him in bed, of her using this same motion to pull him toward her, into her.

  “You’re not dancing with a student now,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.

  She drew in a slightly shaky breath and he could tell she was just as affected as he was. The knowledge sent another rush of heat through him, but then the dance began and they were forced to move to make way for the other couples.

  Savit
ri was as good a dancer as she had hinted, her feet skipping nimbly to the beat and her movements graceful and elegant, her body in his arms as light as air. The music gradually sped up as the dance continued, leading them to spin faster and faster, their synchronized leaps on each third beat covering greater ground. The waltz was a quite athletic dance, and he saw Savitri’s breath coming quicker, her breasts rising and falling beneath her thin dress. The color in her cheeks heightened from the exertion, and she no longer looked anything like the frightened, drained woman who had first entered Almack’s. She grinned up at him, and Alexander felt an answering satisfaction at their performance, at how well they moved together.

  They whirled across the dance floor at such a speed that the rest of the room seemed like a blur, and all Alexander could do was stare down into her dark eyes full of promise and happiness and pride. He used the excuse of the next turn to tug her slightly closer, her thigh pressing against his and her breasts brushing his chest. This was what his life had lacked. This woman, her skill and her beauty and her sheer physical presence. She had woken him, reshaped him from merely going through the required motions to embracing life with all his heart.

  Nothing Louisa or anyone else could do was capable of changing that.

  The music came to a crescendo and then ended, and the dancers slowed to a stop. Alexander’s own breath was coming too fast for elegance, and he felt dizzy and a bit unsteady. Savitri must have felt the same, because she leaned against him, laughing quietly to herself. For a moment they stood still as they recovered, utterly unconcerned with anyone else in the room. Alexander was half-seriously considering whisking Savitri away immediately, when someone tapped on his shoulder.

  He turned and saw Nicholas Danford. “May I cut in?” his friend said, cheerful and immaculately tailored as always.

  Alexander’s first impulse was to say no but then he remembered that the goal of this evening was to introduce Savitri to society, and however much he would enjoy escaping with her for a night of debauchery, it wouldn’t be particularly helpful. He didn’t know if Mrs. Pemberton had spoken to Nicholas or if he had recognized the problem on his own – or if Nicholas had simply caught sight of a beautiful woman and decided to charm her, as he often did. It didn’t matter. Any reason that led to Savitri being seen on the arm of Nicholas, widely acknowledged as one of the leading setters of fashion, was a good reason.