How to Dance With a Duke

by Manda Collins

  “Cecily, it has been brought to my attention that you have been spending an inordinate amount of time in the company of the Duke of Winterson.”

  This gave Cecily pause. “I have, but it has been perfectly innocent, I assure you. He is simply concerned about his brother’s disappearance. I have offered to introduce him to those members of the expedition with whom I have an acquaintance.”

  Violet nodded, though she still seemed agitated. “I do know this, and I did try to assure … them that you were merely being helpful, but since your change in hairstyle, and mode of dress, there has been some talk that perhaps you have set your cap at him. He is, after all, a handsome man, and it would not be unheard of for a lady to single him out for her attentions. Ever since he inherited the dukedom he has been the target of such schemes.”

  “I have not made him the object of a marriage scheme, I assure you.” Cecily laughed. Though she had a marriage scheme, the Duke of Winterson was certainly not the object of it. “I have perhaps changed my mind about marriage. Papa’s illness and the fear that I might have to live with Cousin Rufus for the rest of my days have done their part to ensure that. But that does not mean that I have chosen the Duke of Winterson as my intended groom. Why, I cannot think of anyone more unsuitable.”

  She did not add that that was because of the real possibility that her father might be responsible for the disappearance of Winterson’s brother.

  “I am relieved to hear you say so,” Violet said, relaxing. “For I must tell you that some of the gossip that was whispered about you this afternoon during my at-home was quite alarming. The Duchess of Bewle was telling everyone who would listen that she saw you and Winterson looking like April and May in the park the other day. And that you had quite deliberately rebuffed that nice George Vinson in order to chase after Winterson for his title alone!”

  “As I am not quite sure what April and May look like, I have nothing to say to the former accusation, but I vehemently deny the latter. I accepted Winterson’s invitation to ride in his phaeton for no other reason than to escape Mr. Vinson’s prattle. He is quite sweet, but hasn’t much conversation. And though Winterson is a better conversationalist, I am most certainly not engaged in any sort of improper behavior with him.”

  “Then you will see no great hardship if I were to request that you do not see him quite as frequently as you have done of late? It must be done to safeguard your reputation.”

  “That is not possible,” Cecily said with a frown. “I have agreed to assist the duke, and I cannot do so if I do not see him.”

  “Cecily, you have a reputation to maintain.” Violet clearly did not like rebuking her, but the determination on her countenance told her stepdaughter that she would not shy from her duty. “And as your father is unable to look after you now…”

  “Violet, I am a grown woman of five and twenty. There is no need for anyone to ‘look after me’ as you put it. I am perfectly capable of keeping my own counsel and protecting my own reputation. Simply because Father is unable to do his usual policing of my every move is no reason for you to do the job for him.”

  “I am not…” Violet pursed her lips in agitation. It was the one expression she made that made her less than beautiful. “I am simply looking out for your well-being, my dear. I know that you have little use for the ton and its ways, but if you wish to make an acceptable marriage, then you must allow yourself to be led by me in this matter at the very least. It is all well and good to say that you have no designs upon becoming the next Duchess of Winterson, but that is not how the scandalmongers see it. There has already been speculation about the two of you in the scandal sheets. And my sister warned me today that there have been whispers of your name linked with his in that ridiculous betting book at White’s.

  “Please,” she continued, her voice softening. “Do not let your dismissal of gossip trick you into assuming that it has no effect on your life. It does. Take it from someone who has been the subject of some very nasty rumors. If there is a way to spare you from such, I will do it.”

  This was not the first Cecily had heard of the whispers that had circulated about her stepmama and her newly widowed father; even so many years later, there were those members of society who thrived on ensuring that everyone who had missed such tales when they first were bandied about were apprised of them at the first opportunity. She had been told of her stepmama’s campaign to win over her father’s grieving heart on the night of her own come-out. She could still remember the gleam of pure malice in Lady Bedford’s expression as she told the still-nervous debutante about the rumors that had made the rounds before her papa and Violet wed. The insinuation that she might learn a thing or two from Violet when it came to husband-hunting had been hurtful considering that her stepmama was a famed beauty while Cecily was a gawky, overtall bluestocking with a distrust of crows.

  Now she said, “I do appreciate your fears, Violet. I do not wish to make you the object of talk any more than I wish for it for myself. But I have made a vow to the duke and I do not wish to renege on that promise. He and his family are, understandably, worried about the disappearance of his brother. And I know that Papa, as William Dalton’s employer, would not wish for us to ignore that.”

  “All your papa ever wanted was for you to have the genteel and leisurely life of a lady. You know as well as I that he blames your mama’s studies for her death. And though you have defied him time and again with your pursuit of an education, he has, I think, been proud even as he worried for you. I beg that you will not further dishonor his wishes for you by continuing your disregard for the society of which he so fervently wishes you to be a part.”

  It was the first time she had ever heard Violet voice Lord Hurston’s fears that Cecily would endanger herself by following in her mother’s footsteps. She had long ago, with the approval of her godmother, dismissed his fears for what they were—the overprotective posturing of a man searching for something to blame for the death of a loved one. And in Violet, he had chosen a second wife who would never worry him on that score. A scholar Violet was not. But she had shown herself to be as fine an interpreter of human emotion as the first Lady Hurston had been of dead languages. And there was a part of Cecily that wished she could have inherited that sort of mental acuity rather than her own.

  But she knew where her talents lay. And she also knew that whatever her father had wished for her, she would honor him more by proving he had had nothing to do with Will Dalton’s disappearance than she could ever do by simply sitting back and behaving like the simpering miss he so desperately wanted her to be.

  “Violet, I appreciate your concerns,” she said, squeezing her stepmama’s hand. “But I hope you will not think me disrespectful when I tell you that I must continue my association with the Duke of Winterson, no matter what reservations you might have regarding the gossip going around. I cannot allow William’s mother and wife to continue on in ignorance of what happened to him. There was a time when this family suffered from not knowing what had happened to my mother. And I cannot, in good conscience, step aside and do nothing while another family endures the same heartache of not knowing whether their loved one lives or dies.”

  She saw in Violet’s eyes the recognition that she had made her point. And knowing Violet, she had likely been arguing against her own conscience in asking Cecily to give up her association with Winterson. For all her desire to avoid gossip, Violet had a very tender heart, and doubtless sympathized with Will Dalton’s family more than she had let on in order to do as she thought her husband would wish.

  “I had to try, you know,” she said quietly. “For your father’s sake.”

  “I know,” Cecily returned, feeling a rush of affection for her.

  Smiling, she said, “I vow, I have the only stepmama in London who wishes for her stepdaughter to spend less time with the handsome Duke of Winterson!”

  Violet grinned. “I only wished to save you from tittle-tattle. I still have every hope that in the course of your time
spent with him something will develop between the two of you.”

  This was not the time, Cecily saw, to inform Violet of her plans to make a marriage of convenience with an as-yet-unknown member of the Egyptian Club. For now, she would agree to be more circumspect with Winterson. That way her stepmama and the ton would not worry overmuch about their relationship, and Cecily would be able to get what she wanted as well: a marriage of convenience with a member of the club, and her father’s journals.

  Aloud she said, “There is no danger of that, I fear. He and I are at loggerheads more than we are not.”

  “That matters very little, my dear,” Violet replied, her look of amusement reminding Cecily that for all her own scholarly knowledge, her stepmother was far more advanced in the study of the heart. “I have known many a happy match to be made between couples who started out with nothing but quarrels.”

  “But that makes no sense,” Cecily objected. “What is there about quarreling that speaks of love?”

  “Oh, it’s not the quarrels that bring them together,” Violet said with a knowing grin. “It’s the making up.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Cecily was scanning the social columns of the papers for any rumors hinting of her continued friendship with Winterson, and was dismayed to see there was an allusion to the so-called Egyptian Curse that was alleged to have stricken not only Lord Hurston, but also William Dalton.

  This reporter has seen the noble Duke of W and the lately fashionable Miss H together on more than one occasion. It would appear that the curse affecting the members of a recent trip to the Dark Continent has done little to dampen the budding romance between these two. Let us hope that they continue to elude the dark forces at work here. It would be a shame if either His Grace or his little miss were to have something dire befall either of them—as has clearly happened to both their exploring family members.

  Cecily stifled a very naughty expletive indeed as she finished reading the insinuations. Not only had the blackguard brought up the nonsensical curse, he had also connected her father and William Dalton to it. She only hoped that Winterson’s mama and his sister-in-law did not stumble upon the column. She would do her best to see to it that Violet was not exposed to it, either. Seeing it in print would only further cement her concern.

  Having lost her appetite, Cecily pushed her half-full plate of breakfast back and prepared to rise from the table when a footman appeared in the doorway.

  “Miss Hurston,” he said, “this letter was just delivered for you.”

  Cecily took the missive from him and broke open the seal. A key fell from the folded paper, and a hastily scrawled note within explained its purpose.

  To the Egyptian Club. Use it to find what you need.

  Eight

  “Why must you force me to suffer along with you?” Monteith complained as he followed Lucas out onto the terrace of Lady Mulsington’s house.

  “Because you need a bit of culture in your life, my friend,” was Lucas’s heartless reply. “If it were up to you, you’d spend your days in nothing but sporting pursuits and gambling away your inheritance. At least when I request your company at these damnable social gatherings you get to chat with someone besides pugilists and croupiers.”

  “I happen to enjoy conversation with pugilists and croupiers, old son. And what’s more, you did too once upon a time yourself.” He took a glass of champagne from a passing footman. “I believe your little arrangement with Miss Hurston threatens to make you forget just who your friends are.”

  Lucas rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his own champagne while he scanned the throng of partygoers for his Amazon. Their association had thus far led to more clues to his brother’s fate than he had gathered on his own before their chance meeting in front of the Egyptian Club. If they raised expectations among polite society for a match between them, that would be put to rest just as soon as she chose one or another of the imbeciles from the list burning a hole in his pocket. His animosity toward those men he put down to a dislike of seeing such an intelligent lady saddled for life to her intellectual inferior. It certainly had nothing to do with their kiss in the park. At least, that’s what he told himself. “I am well and truly aware of whom I may count as friend,” he said to Monteith, turning his thoughts back to his present company. “But even you must admit that Miss Hurston is much more pleasing to the eye than Gentleman Jackson ever was.”

  Monteith choked on his drink. “Thank you for providing me with the distressing portrait of Jackson in a gown,” he wheezed once the coughing fit had passed. “I will never witness him planting a facer in the same way again.”

  “Glad to be of use,” Lucas said, hiding a grin.

  He drained his glass and handed it to his friend. “Now, I must leave you and search out my befrocked nemesis.”

  “You cannot mean to leave me here! What if I am accosted by a wandering band of marriage-minded mamas? You cannot be so cruel!”

  “I can indeed,” Lucas said, giving Monteith a hearty cuff on the shoulder. “There comes a time in every man’s life when he must strike out on his own. Now is that time. Besides, you might find yourself in need of a wife one of these days.”

  “Shhh! Do not let them hear you say it! They have very sensitive hearing when they are on the hunt for a mate!”

  Leaving his friend to face his fate, Lucas wended his way through the attendees, keeping his gaze open for Cecily’s dark curls.

  He was apologizing to an older lady for stepping on her gown, when another woman plowed right into him. Looking down, he recognized Lady Violet Hurston, Cecily’s stepmama.

  “Your Grace!” she said, her lovely expression oddly cool. “Just the person I was hoping to see. You will escort me to the punch bowl.”

  It was a command, not an invitation, and Lucas felt a slight prickle on the back of his neck.

  Still, he offered his arm, and together they made their way to the table where a footman presided over the beverages. The line was extended, and one look at his companion’s expression was enough to inform Lucas that she had no wish for punch.

  “Over here,” she said, leading him to a rose arbor with a small bench. She did not sit down, but made as if to look at the roses, turning her back slightly to him.

  “I will be brief since I do not wish to add to the talk already surrounding your association with my stepdaughter,” she said, her tone brisk, like a nanny informing her charge of the rules of the house. “It has not escaped my notice that you have shown a marked partiality for my Cecily.”

  He opened his mouth to defend himself, but she silenced him with a raised hand. “I know that you two are searching for the cause of your brother’s disappearance. I speak instead of the way your gaze follows her when you are in a room together. The manner in which you speak to her, as if she were the only lady you can see.”

  As she did not appear willing to give him a say, Lucas simply nodded.

  “You are hopeful of finding out news regarding your brother. I do not doubt that. But I know the ways of men, Your Grace. And I do not doubt that you have an attraction for Cecily that goes beyond an appreciation for her reasoning skills. She has never been particularly concerned about her looks or lack thereof, but I believe beneath her bluster she cares very much what others think. She has already had her heart broken once before and I will not allow that to happen to her again. Her father may be incapable of defending her honor, sir, but I am not.”

  Lucas was silent. That he was attracted to Cecily went without saying. As a gentleman he had never intended to act upon that attraction, however, and to be accused of nefarious intent with regard to her person would have been, in a man, an offense worth dueling over. He suspected that Lady Hurston knew this all too well and was taking advantage of her sex and her husband’s illness to say her mind without fear of retribution.

  But more enlightening was her divulgence that Cecily had once suffered a heartbreak. It was foolish to believe that a woman would reach her age without some en
tanglement of the heart, of course, but he wished to hunt down the bastard who had broken her heart and thrash him soundly, anyway.

  Aloud, he said in a dry tone, “I am pleased to know that my heart is such an open book, my lady. I shall stop playing cards immediately so as to save myself the distress of costing my partners every hand.”

  “Do not play the bored aristocrat with me, Your Grace,” she said tartly. “I know very well that you were not born to wear the coronet and I admire you for it. You have handled it much better than David Lawrence would have done if he’d been in the same situation. A career in the army does much to mold a man into something of worth. If I thought you were just another fool with a title I would simply have warned Cecily away from you and that would have ended it.”

  Lucas filed away the name David Lawrence for further investigation later. Now, with Lady Hurston pinning him in place with her gaze, reminding Lucas of his most exacting tutor at Eton, he was forced to keep his thoughts on the matter at hand.

  “But it’s because you are who you are that she is in danger from you,” she went on. “You are just the blend of charming and clever that is irresistible to a young woman like her. She is able to dismiss fortune hunters and raffish young bucks out of hand, but you, sir, I do not mind telling you that you are dangerous! Add in your noble quest to find your missing brother and you are damned near impossible to resist.”

  “Are you actually suggesting that I am using my brother’s disappearance as a means to seduce your stepdaughter, my lady?” he demanded with a frown.

  “No, of course not!” Lady Hurston’s eyes widened in chagrin. “What I am trying to do … and am doubtless making a mull of it … is to ask your intentions. For I will tell you in no uncertain terms, should you in the course of your association with my stepdaughter compromise her reputation in any way, you will pay for it with your hand.”