by Amelia Grey
“It’s not my desire to intrigue you.”
“That’s quite obvious, too. And I know you are as fascinated by me as I am by you.”
Loretta frowned deeply. “You couldn’t know that even if it were true. Which is isn’t.”
“I know,” he insisted in a husky voice that sent a prickling of something wonderful skipping over her skin. “I see it in your eyes.”
Loretta sucked in a deep and, she hoped, soundless breath. Could that possibly be true? Some people were more perceptive than others, but—did she dare to refute his claim again?
She hesitated, searching for the right words.
“While you contemplate your answer, Miss Quick,” he continued in the same lighthearted tone that washed over her as soothingly as warm water, “I think you should know that, as outspoken as you are, I don’t expect you to deny what I see so clearly.”
Oh, he was a perceptive brute.
Of course she was attracted to him, and he was a miserable beast for realizing she wanted to disavow his assessment of her. But he was wrong if he thought to goad her into admitting anything.
She forced herself to relax. “I fear you mistake the reason for my interest in you.”
His brows rose. “Really?”
“It’s only natural that I should be a little awestruck, Your Grace.”
“You? Awestruck? If so, you have an odd way of trying to get that point across.”
“Nevertheless, as I mentioned, I’ve never had a duke visit Mammoth House. Surely you must know that your presence, or anyone’s for that matter, is a rare occasion for the niece of an earl who has been all but banished from Society.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t know the complete story on that, Miss Quick. Perhaps we can discuss it later.”
Loretta’s proclamation to her uncle and its consequences weren’t things she wanted to talk about in any detail, and the duke had to know that. She quirked her head and offered, “If that be the case, then I suppose you will also want to discuss a certain secret admirer letter that was reportedly read around the world.”
The Duke of Hawksthorn gave a hearty laugh. His eyes sparkled invitingly. It lifted her spirits and made her feel quite jolly to know that her comment had amused him so much.
“Around the world? Your cleverness is refreshing.”
She smiled. “As you said earlier, I don’t know the complete story on that.”
“While I have little doubt everyone in England heard about my misguided participation in that youthful prank, I have misgivings about the prospects of the entire world knowing. However, in either case, I must wait for further discussion on the matter.” He extended the glass to her. “And I’ll wait to enjoy this until after I’ve put the mare in the stable, rubbed her down, and fed her.”
Loretta reached to take hold of the glass, and two of her fingers landed on top of his. A tingling response rushed up her arm and rippled across her breasts; a tightening gripped her lower abdomen. The duke must have felt the strange awareness at their unexpected contact, too. His eyes blinked and narrowed. She was certain there was a jump in his breathing as he slipped his fingers from beneath hers and let go of the glass.
Unlike her usually well-controlled self, she felt a blush searing up her neck and quickly cleared her throat. It was ridiculous for her to feel so tantalized at the slight touch of his hand. That was something she’d have to consider at a later date. This wasn’t the time to think about what she’d felt when her hand brushed the duke’s.
She hurried to say, “Since you will be our guest for the evening, what time would you like to have your dinner served?”
“I will dine at whatever time you do.”
“Oh, but I don’t stand on ceremony as far as dinner is concerned when Paxton is away. Mrs. Huddleston is an excellent cook and will consider it an honor to prepare something for you and to serve you in the dining room whenever you prefer.”
He stepped in closer to her as he had earlier, and for an instant she had the wild thought that she should step closer to him, too.
“I welcome the opportunity to forgo ceremony,” he said. “It matters not to me what we eat, where we dine, or the time. As a guest in your home, Miss Quick, I will have my evening meal with you.”
At his nearness, a shivery feeling gently stole over her again, and all at once it felt as if her insides melted into a quivering heap at the bottom of her abdomen. “But that would be—” She stopped.
“Scandalous,” he finished for her.
“Yes,” she said, renewing her inner strength and refusing to back down or away from him. “More so than offering you lodging for the night. You know that is something that cannot be helped because of circumstances concerning your horse. No one, including my uncle, would expect a duke to sleep in a cold stable, but no one would expect that I would dine alone with him since my brother isn’t here.”
Without warning, his expression softened and he added, “If it makes my being here a little easier to bear, I would venture to say there isn’t another person within an hour or two of this place, so unless you or your servants decide to tell of this unconventional evening, no one will be the wiser.”
“My staff is very loyal,” she defended.
“So it’s settled. Tonight we shall share the same table and the same roof.” He stepped back.
Sensing no further argument would sway the duke, Loretta knew she must now be the gracious hostess of Mammoth House. “We’ll dine at eight. I’ll see to it that a room is made up for you.”
On the farthest end of the house.
He nodded. “Now I’ll go take care of my horse.” He pointed to her hand. She gripped the glass so hard her knuckles were white. “And then I’ll return for that drink.”
Loretta watched the duke stride from the room. Oh, it was devilishly frustrating that he was so stimulating. It was ridiculous that he was so handsome, his shoulders so wide and his hips so lean and narrow that she wanted to keep looking at him. It was downright maddening that her heartbeat was racing and her stomach had an extraordinary attack of the jitters.
She considered herself a strong, capable young lady. She had stood up to her uncle and refused to marry the viscount. She’d withstood the loneliness of Mammoth House when her brother often fell victim to the isolation and quietness and had to leave. But in a few short minutes, the duke had left her feeling very feminine and incredibly confused about all the emotions he’d stirred within her.
Yet he’d also had no problem living up to his reputation as a scoundrel. Insisting she dine alone with him in her home. What other gentleman would do such a thing? None, she dared to think. And why was the thought of dining alone with him so horrifying and thrilling at the same time?
It simply wasn’t natural for her to be feeling the way she was about him. It was almost too much for her to comprehend. The duke was a rake of the highest order. Everyone in Society knew that. He’d proved years ago that he had little regard for young ladies’ sensibilities, and by insisting on taking his evening meal with her, he’d made it clear he hadn’t changed his wicked ways.
Loretta had read about what happened when the duke and two of his friends had outraged all of London by catching every young lady making her debut that year in an ill-conceived scheme that the rakes had yet to live down.
She’d never heard that there had been any apologies or even any excuses for what the Duke of Hawksthorn, the Duke of Griffin, and the Duke of Rathburne had done: sending secret admirer letters to twelve young ladies asking them to meet the anonymous sender in private. All of the young ladies had fallen for the scam. Not one had been prudent enough to refuse the invitation to meet her admirer in person.
And the truth of it was that Loretta probably would have done it, too, had it been the year of her debut. Once it was made known that the rakes had wagered to see which one of them would see the most ladies respond, the ton was in a state of panic, the Season all but lost, and the ladies and their parents devastated. The trio had bee
n called the Rakes of St. James ever since, and the gossip columns had not let the story fade from the annals of Society.
So yes, she should be horrified that she would be dining alone with one of the rakes. She should be worried for her reputation. She should be fearful for her person.
But she wasn’t.
God help her, she was looking forward to it.
And not just because the duke was a handsome man who had all her senses shooting to the stars and back. It had been such a long time since she’d dined with anyone other than her brother, occasionally with her uncle on his infrequent visits to Mammoth House, and her yearly visit to his estate on Christmas Day for the Yuletide dinner with a few of his elderly friends.
Loretta had never regretted not marrying the viscount her uncle had chosen for her, but she had missed the social life it could have afforded her. She wasn’t one to dwell on what might have been. When she made her decision to defy her uncle, she knew there would be penalties, and knowing her uncle could be harsh, she should have assumed they would be severe.
The Earl of Switchingham had been honor-bound to take in his younger brother’s two children, Paxton and Loretta, when their mother passed, his brother having died in a duel shortly after Loretta was born. Almost as soon as they arrived Paxton was sent to boarding school for his education. Loretta was kept at Switchingham under the care of governesses and tutors until she was ready for her debut. She seldom saw the earl, as he spent most of his time in London, but when he was home it was clear he expected to be obeyed without question. So yes, now that this rare opportunity had presented itself to her, she wanted to dine with the interesting Duke of Hawksthorn. She wanted to talk with him, and she even wanted to somehow once again feel the delicious sensations that had roused inside her when she looked at him, when their hands had touched. She didn’t have to understand these things to enjoy them.
Besides, the duke was right. Wasn’t he? Who would know that he’d overnighted under her roof and shared her table? She supposed that if, after all these years, her reputation was going to be ruined, she’d rather it be by a fine-looking gentleman who’d made her heart feel as if it were skipping a beat every time she looked at him.
“Is he a real duke?”
Loretta glanced over to see Mrs. Huddleston standing in the doorway of the drawing room. “As real as they come.”
“Is he leaving now?”
“No,” Loretta answered, walking over to the secretary and placing the duke’s drink on the tray. “He’s going out to the stable to care for his horse.”
“That’s probably a first for a gentleman like him. Do you suppose he knows how to do it?”
“Now you are being unkind, Mrs. Huddleston,” Loretta said with more good humor than reprimand in her tone. “I know even dukes are taught the proper care of their animals.”
“If you say so.” She pursed her lips a moment and then added, “Though I’d feel better if Mr. Huddleston or Arnold were here to take care of the horse for him.”
“So would I, but they are not,” Loretta said.
“I figure if a man can’t tie his own neckcloth and needs a valet to do it for him, he probably can’t stable his own horse.”
Loretta cleared her throat to keep from laughing at that remark. “You have no idea whether or not he ties his own neckcloth. And I think you have more important things to worry about right now anyway.”
“Me?”
“Yes. The duke will be staying for dinner. Do you have something you can prepare on short notice?”
Her eyes rounded and she picked up the tail of her apron and started wiping her hands as she often did when she was nervous or worried about something. “I don’t know about that, miss. I’ve never cooked for a duke before.”
Loretta gave her a comforting smile. “It will be like cooking for anyone else, Mrs. Huddleston. Don’t worry. You’ll do a superb job. You always do. And actually, he’ll be staying the night. His horse is lame and he won’t be able to leave until Mr. Huddleston returns tomorrow so he can borrow a mount. You’ll need to see to it that a room is prepared for him. I suggest you prepare the earl’s bedchamber for him since it’s on the farthest end of the house. Now, what can you cook tonight?”
“I suppose I could try making some of those fancy small courses I’ve heard about that go on at the earl’s house. We have some pickled vegetables and roots. I could try to—”
“That’s not necessary. I’m sure the duke wouldn’t expect anything as elaborate as what is served by his cook,” Loretta interrupted her. “He knows we haven’t the staff for a meal such as he would require in his home. Your usual fare will do just fine for him.”
“I would think a gentleman such as the duke would want a bit more to sit down to than an egg on a piece of toast like you’d be eating if he wasn’t here.”
Mrs. Huddleston was right about that. “Whatever you prepare, just make it as nice for him as you can and don’t try making anything you’ve never cooked before.”
“I’ll sizzle a slice of ham for him and make a honey sauce to go over it. Boil potatoes and eggs. I took bread out of the oven less than half an hour ago so we’ve plenty of that. Cheese, too. I’ll make some fig tarts. Does that sound hearty enough for a man of his size?”
Loretta smiled. The duke was a big man. “That sounds delicious and perfect,” she told the housekeeper.
Mrs. Huddleston beamed at her praise and dropped her apron. “I thought so, too. He won’t walk away hungry or complaining from a table I’ve prepared for him.”
“I’m sure of that.”
“I’ll get started in the kitchen and then take care of having a fire laid in the earl’s room for him.”
“Thank you. And perhaps you should lay out a nightshirt. The duke didn’t expect to stay the night, and I don’t know if he has a satchel with him.”
“Yes, miss.”
“One more thing, Mrs. Huddleston. You’ll need to set up the dining room. For two.”
The housekeeper pressed the palms of her hands down her hips in a worried manner. “Are you sure you want to be doing that, miss?”
“No, but the duke is. Apparently he has an aversion to eating alone and insists I join him. Put us at opposite ends of the table with plenty of candles between us.”
Notwithstanding all that, Loretta would do all she could to make the duke’s unexpected overnight stay at Mammoth House pleasant. The one thing she wouldn’t do for him was agree to an arranged marriage between her brother and the duke’s sister if it was in her power to keep it from happening. Though that could be harder than she allowed his grace to think. Contrary to everything she let the duke believe, she had very little control over her brother.
But she did have an opinion and she would state it. Whenever necessary. It was impossible for her to have that romantic, soul-capturing love she’d read about in poetry, but there was no reason Paxton couldn’t find and woo the perfect lady to love.
“Not to worry, miss. I know what to do. I can keep my ear to the door.”
Loretta laughed. “That won’t be necessary. I assure you, I will not be in danger of being ravished by the duke tonight.”
“Yes, miss. I’d best get started and you’d best get started changing for dinner, too.”
Mrs. Huddleston hurried from the room, and Loretta stared down at the simple day dress she wore. She may not have been in Society for over two years, but she still knew the rules. When dining with a duke, she must be properly attired. Her hair should be up with a headpiece of jewels at her crown and not unbound and swinging freely about her shoulders as if she didn’t know the proper way to present herself. She needed to wear one of her best gowns.
And if she was honest with herself, she wanted the duke to know that when not caught unaware, as she was this afternoon by his unexpected arrival, she could be presentable. She’d put on some of her mother’s jewelry, too. A smile touched her lips as thoughts of her sweet, soft-spoken mother, whom she’d lost far too soon, crossed her min
d. Loretta had lovely, expensive jewels that her uncle had allowed her to keep, maybe because they were her mother’s or perhaps because he knew she would seldom have a need to wear any of them.
But tonight, as fate had declared, she did.
An odd feeling stole over her and she realized she was actually excited about dressing for dinner. She still had many of the gowns she’d had made for her debut. They were no longer the latest fashion, she was sure, but all of them were made from the finest of fabrics, ribbons, and lace.
Loretta headed for the stairs. She didn’t have much time to turn herself from a simple country lady into a belle who looked as if she were attending a Society ball. Her uncle had spared no expense to prepare her for her first Season. At the time, Loretta had no idea he never intended for her to have one. He had already secretly arranged for her to marry Viscount Denningcourt.
And she almost had.
After much scolding, berating, and guilt had been heaped on her from her uncle for being an ungrateful lass for all he’d done for her and her brother, she’d consented to the rushed wedding shortly after the Season had begun. But in the end, Loretta couldn’t bring herself to go through with the ceremony, which was why she was now—more or less—a prisoner at Mammoth House.
Chapter 3
No gentleman should ever forget that he is one.
A PROPER GENTLEMAN’S GUIDE TO WOOING THE PERFECT LADY
SIR VINCENT TYBALT VALENTINE
Hawk was damned glad Miss Quick had refused his gentlemanly offer and he wouldn’t be sleeping in the stable. The slow drizzle of rain had turned to a sleety shower of ice that was setting up for a miserable night of freezing cold. It was unseasonably wintry for being less than a month from the first day of spring.
A little before eight in the evening Hawk strode down the long corridor that led to the dining room. After he’d done all he could for the mare, the housekeeper had shown him to a room where he took off his coat, shirt, collar, and neckcloth and let them dry by the fire before donning them again. He hadn’t expected to stay the night at Mammoth House so he’d left his satchel at the inn where he’d left his carriage.