That was what it all kept coming back to. Love. He honestly wasn’t sure he’d ever believed in the concept before, aside from familial love. He understood what it was to love his father, his mother, his brother—but nothing had prepared him for this. It deserved a word of its own, this all-consuming passion.
Obsession, he supposed. Adoration, perhaps. And need. Yes, definitely need. What he felt when he was with Georgie was need. He needed her as surely as he needed air to breathe.
“Do you know what I learned from Father?” Nicholas set his drink down on the edge of Rhys’s desk.
The words startled him out of his thoughts. “What’s that?”
Nicholas leaned against the desk. “Despite what you might think, I did listen to Father’s lessons about obligation and duty.”
Rhys gave a dismissive snort of disbelief out of habit. His brother had reformed his ways remarkably this past year but sometimes it was too easy to forget that in light of all those years of rakish behavior.
Nicholas ignored him. “Aside from all the lectures, there was one point he harped on continuously. He spoke often of how a duke and his family are leaders. A duke, especially, is a leader among men. He may have an obligation, but he also has the right—nay, the duty—to follow his heart and his honor.”
Rhys stared at Nicholas for a moment, shocked at his younger brother’s earnest tone as much as by the words.
He was right. His father had taught them that sometimes rules must be broken in order for a leader to properly lead. Sometimes a man had to throw caution to the wind and exhibit bravery and a belief in his own instincts in order to be the kind of man worthy of the title.
His heart started to race as that thought took on new meaning. He had to brace himself against his desk as his rational mind sifted through the new thoughts, trying to ensure that this was truth and not just what he wanted to believe.
He pushed himself away from the desk. Oh bloody hell. Who cared if it was reason or rationalization. It made sense, damn it. He was a better man when Georgie was in his life. She softened his harsh edges and kept him from being shut off from the world and from his heart.
Surely a great duke was first a good man. And being with Georgie—well, if he wasn’t yet a good man, he wanted to become one for her. He knew he was a righteous man, but she made him see the value in compassion, in love, in humor, in graciousness.
Yes, she made him better, because she deserved better.
“You’ve already sacrificed so much for this family and for the title,” Nicholas said behind him. “Your childhood, namely. But neither Mother nor I would wish for you to sacrifice your future happiness for the sake of the title. Father wouldn’t want that either, God rest his soul.”
“Thank you,” Rhys said, shocking his brother into silence for once. When he turned to face his brother he saw that Nicholas was staring at him with wide eyes.
“Does that mean…? That is, did you actually listen to me for once?”
Rhys thrust a hand through his hair as the full weight of what he’d realized settled over him. A surge of emotions ran through him at the thought of all he was thwarting—the traditions, the lineage, the expectations.
But far above and beyond all that was joy. Pure, unadulterated happiness at the thought of what he was about to gain.
Hopefully.
His mind’s eye brought up an image of the hurt look in Georgie’s eyes when he’d rejected her. He winced, leaning over the desk as though the memory had been a very real blow to the gut.
“Are you all right, brother?” Nicholas asked.
Rhys ignored him. He couldn’t speak from all the shame and regret. How could he make this right? How could he convince her that he loved her after treating her the way he had?
He stared down at his desk blindly at first, but then his eyes focused and his brain registered what he was looking at.
Or rather, what he was not looking at.
“Bloody hell,” he bit out.
Nicholas was at his side. “What is it?”
“He stole the list.” Rhys’s anger came in a flash but it didn’t linger. He ignored Nicholas’s questions of who and what list? He could explain that Lord Malcolm had stolen his oft-mocked-by-Georgie list of potential brides, but that would require a lengthy explanation he didn’t have time for.
Besides, it no longer mattered. He didn’t need the list, nor did he want any of the ladies on it as his bride.
There was only one woman for him, and he was about to claim her as his wife.
Chapter Thirteen
Georgie despised this soiree with the passion of a thousand burning suns.
She’d spent the better part of the last hour coming up with all the ways she hated this gathering and the burning suns metaphor was her favorite so far.
She stood on the sidelines and perused the ton’s finest and most eligible ladies. Oh, there were others here too—married couples and some young lords of marriageable age. But all she could see were the blasted ladies of the list.
She sipped her lemonade as she had been doing for ages now as an excuse to avoid mingling. She was hardly in the spirits for meeting new people and making small talk right now was unbearable.
She who was renowned for her gift of the gab was rendered speechless tonight precisely because everyone was talking. Rumors of the true nature of this soiree had spread like wildfire, according to Mary, ever since it was announced.
It seemed society’s gossips had seen through the ruse that this was just another gathering and everyone who was anyone expected there to be an announcement tonight. If not a formal engagement, then at least an offer of courtship.
Mary said something sweetly conciliatory about how lovely she looked in her green silk gown. Georgie gave her a small smile of acknowledgement but refused to let herself be drawn into conversation.
Mary sighed as she’d done the last three times she’d tried and failed to draw Georgie out. Then she went back to standing by Georgie’s side in silence and solidarity, for which Georgie was grateful.
Mary truly could be a decent friend when the occasion called for it.
But just as quickly as she’d thanked the stars for her friend’s blessed silence, she cursed it. For silence meant that she could hear the whispers of the group of ladies beside her.
Perhaps burning suns was the wrong metaphor after all. This whole blasted gathering was far more akin to hell. Surely it was a very special form of torture to be surrounded all night by a crowd whose sole purpose seemed to be to speculate on whom the duke would marry and why. All of the names she’s heard thrown about were familiar. Of course they were all likely ladies of the infernal detestable list.
But then something happened. The rumors changed; the gossip turned from vague hints and innuendos to specific and frighteningly accurate speculations.
Watching the crowd as she was, Georgie could see the changing of the tide. Where before she’d seen nothing but smiles and the excited chatter of idle speculation, now she saw narrow-eyed glances of jealousy and stares of interest all aimed in one very specific direction.
It seemed all eyes in the place were focused on Lady Regina Phelpott. She with the ridiculous name and the perfect attributes.
Lady Regina, for her part, looked smug as could be for a woman who seemingly refused to smile. She came close now, though, her lips tilting up ever so slightly as one of her friends whispered in her ear.
But why? Georgie watched the perceptible shift in the ballroom’s temperature with morbid fascination. What on earth had brought about this change?
As if in answer to her question, one word could be heard among the crowd.
List.
Surely she was hearing things. But no, that word buffeted her from every side as she led Mary toward Claire, who was deep in conversation with the duchess. The duchess, meanwhile, looked as regal and untouchable as ever, despite the rumors about her son.
A list of ladies.
He had a list made.
&
nbsp; Lady Regina is at the top of the list, a girl to her right said.
Georgie’s stomach sank. It was bad enough that the list existed at all, but now it was out there for all the world to see?
No. It couldn’t be. How could anyone have seen the list?
She nearly ran into the answer when he stepped into her path en route to her sister. Lord Malcolm’s smile was far more smug than Lady Regina’s and the sight of it made her queasy.
“I suppose you’ve heard the rumors, Georgie.”
“It’s Miss Cleveland,” she corrected, hating him more and more with each passing second for the trouble he’d caused. “And how did you get your hands on it?”
He arched one brow. “You don’t seem surprised.” His look turned thoughtful. “And here I thought I was doing you a favor.”
She blinked at the idiot before her with his peacock strut and the entitled air. Everything about this man screamed spoiled brat. He had none of the understated grace, nor the humility, or even half the dignity of Rhys. “How on earth do you suppose that by meddling in the duke’s personal affairs you are in some way helping me?”
He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Isn’t it obvious, Georgie? The high and mighty Duke of Roxborough has been stringing you along. He’s been playing you for a fool all this time.” Malcolm’s expression hardened and his eyes took on a hard gleam that made her shiver. “He’s been playing games with all of us, making me think that you were some prized catch.”
The way he’d sneered you made her breath catch. She knew what he meant, of course. The duke’s supposed interest in her made Lord Malcolm believe she had some worth he could not see…a profitable connection, perhaps, or a dowry fit for a princess.
Fortunately for her, she didn’t give a fig what Lord Malcolm thought of her or whether or not he wanted to marry. Her sense of humor returned just in the nick of time. It seemed all she’d needed was to witness a fool in all his glory for her wits to finally return.
She arched her brows, all sweet innocence in the face of his nasty sneers. “Did he truly manage to convince you I was someone you might want to marry?” Her laugh wasn’t even forced. “Funny, no one in the world could have convinced me the same for you.”
His stunned expression was almost as gratifying as the quick flash of rage as her meaning registered. “Why you little—”
“No, no,” she continued on blithely. “Not even a great actor could have fooled me into thinking you were a worthy husband. But most especially not an honorable gentleman who’s as honest as the day is long.”
He was still sputtering behind her as she moved away from him.
That little run in with Lord Malcolm had done her good. She felt like herself again—heartbroken and bereft, but at least her mind was once again functioning and she could see the humor in this situation.
And a little levity was exactly what this situation called for. After all, it wasn’t as though Rhys had been caught tupping a maid in the cloakroom. He’d merely done the wise and responsible thing by assessing his future bride to see how well she would fit the role.
It was the type of cold, rational behavior society typically admired when it came to marriages, so the fact that this news caused a sensation was ridiculous and someone ought to point that out.
She spotted the duchess and her sister on the far side of the room, looking regal as always. That might be a good approach for some scandals, but something so harmless as this…
Georgie believed she could help. But why would she do such a thing for a man who would never love her in return?
She was hard-pressed to answer that even to herself. Perhaps it was because, whether he would marry her or not—indeed, whether he loved her or not—Rhys was a good man. An honorable man. He deserved better than to have his marriage prospects dissected and judged by this insufferable crowd.
So, rather than join the duchess and Claire, she stopped beside a gossiping group of young misses who were discussing the latest turn of events. Mary joined her side, and she was glad of the moral support even if her friend had no idea what she was supporting or why.
“…can you believe it?” one of the girls was saying. “A list, as though his bride were some sort of equipment to be bought at a mercantile.”
The other girls tittered behind gloved hands or open fans. Georgie wasn’t certain why. Of all the comparisons to make, that one seemed remarkably dull. Still, this was her chance. Loudly and with the utmost sincerity, she interrupted. “And why shouldn’t he?”
All eyes were on her, from the girls in this little circle to some of the guests who milled around them.
“I beg your pardon,” the girl with the simplistic metaphor said.
Georgie gave them a smile that spoke of complete and utter approval for Rhys’s actions. “I think it’s quite wise, don’t you?” she asked Mary.
Mary, bless her heart, only paused for a heartbeat before nodding emphatically. “Oh, yes indeed.”
“Of course it is,” Georgie continued. “Dukes do not have the same freedoms as other gentlemen, you know.” She made her tone so reverential she nearly laughed at herself.
She knew for a fact that Rhys would have laughed at her sudden awe of the ducal title.
“Truly, a man such as His Grace could not be expected to court ladies like any other gentleman, now could he?”
The girls in this tight circle exchanged quick looks. “No, I suppose not,” one girl said.
“That’s right. He must think of all the people who look up to him, who depend on him. One must assume he bears the weight of great responsibility in choosing the lady who will stand by his side.”
The girls straightened around her, hopefully awed anew at the great and magnificent power of the duke whose home they currently inhabited.
“It is true,” she said. “It is a big decision. My mother said…”
Georgie left them to discuss what the wise mother had said and moved on to tackle another group. With a smile, she heard Mary join a small group behind her and she started in the same way Georgie had just done. Well done, Mary.
Between the two of them they ought to be able to squash the ridiculousness of the rumors and cast Rhys in the very best light. By the time she was done, he would once again have his pick of all the ladies of the list. Though, by the sounds of it, the choice had already been made.
She refused to look in Lady Regina’s direction, just as she tried her best not to allow the sickening envy swallow her whole. It was hardly Lady Regina’s fault that she was blessed with the perfect lineage and every desirable trait for a duchess. No, it was not her fault. Just like it wasn’t Rhys’s fault for putting his obligations ahead of feelings.
She drew in a deep breath as she moved on to yet another small group who mingled near the refreshments.
If only she knew for certain that he did have feelings for her. In her mind’s eye she saw his dark eyes churning with emotions. This crowd would never believe the passion she’d seen there. Not just desire—though the desire she’d seen there had made her tremble—but there had been something deeper.
Yes, he felt something for her. Perhaps not love, and definitely not something strong enough to overcome his strong sense of duty.
But then again, would she love him so much if he wasn’t so excessively honorable?
She sighed as she forced herself to let go of all thoughts of what might have been. She had a mission and this was one way that she could help the man she loved, and he deserved nothing less.
She’d barely opened her mouth to start in on her next jovial lecture, her happy scolding as she liked to think of it, when she was interrupted by a sudden silence in the ballroom. Everyone, it seemed, had stopped what they were doing—even the musicians—to gape at the now legendary duke as he paused dramatically in the entryway to the ballroom.
There were several steps that led down into the large, open room and he stood at the top as though addressing them all from a stage.
He looked
the part of the mighty duke with his perfectly fitted evening attire and that brooding, intimidating glower.
Well, intimidating to most, but not all. She certainly wasn’t intimidated by the scowl. She never had been and now that she’d grown to know him better than she knew herself—or at least, that’s how it felt at times—she never would.
The man might be self-righteous and he might have impossibly high standards, for himself as well as those around him—but he was kind and just, warm and generous.
He was just remarkably adept at hiding that part of himself.
Now, for example, no one could be faulted for fleeing in terror at the way he frowned down at the crowd in general, as though they were a gaggle of naughty schoolchildren caught stealing pastries from the kitchen.
The thought almost made her laugh. Almost.
She might have laughed if her heart were not breaking at the sight of him. Lord, but he looked handsome. So strong, so virile…so very kissable.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, his gaze sought her out in the crowd easily. Those dark eyes focused on her with an intensity he didn’t attempt to hide.
She found herself growing hot under that intimate gaze. Though, of course, she was being silly. How intimate could it be when she stood in the middle of a ballroom surrounded by the ton?
Very. That was the answer. It could be very intimate. She tried to tell herself he wasn’t looking at her, though that was an obvious lie. But surely he would look away at any moment. But one moment went by, and then two, and they stood there gazing at one another as though no one else existed.
But they did, of course. They not only existed; they were staring. At her. She could feel their eyes on her but she couldn’t look away from Rhys. To be honest, she didn’t entirely care what they were thinking or what the whispers rising up around her were about.
She was too busy savoring this moment. Quite possibly the last time she would be allowed to look upon him so freely and without breaking one of the ten commandments. That pesky tenth one—thou shalt not covet.
A Duke’s Distraction: Devilish Lords Page 13