“Will you join me for a dance?”
“I would love to.”
Walking beside him back to the ball room, Teresa felt not just relaxed from his massage, she felt overwhelmed by a strange power that emanated from him. Yes, he was large and powerfully built, but this seemed to be an inner strength, an iron will, perhaps. His green eyes had bored into hers, yet the warmth and kindness she glimpsed that day in the market lay underneath it all. His brooding good looks and rugged handsomeness attracted her, drew her to him, as no man ever had before.
The party was still in full progress as they returned, and no few eyes appraised them as the Duke led her onto the dance floor. Ignoring them, she permitted him to enclose her into his arms, his dark hair falling rakishly over his brow. “How is the anxiety?” he asked as he flowed through the steps with her.
“What anxiety?” she replied, grinning up at him.
“Ah, then perhaps out little test is a success.”
The Duke danced as light footed as a cat, spinning her around to the music, his eyes on hers. Entranced by him, Teresa moved in perfect step with him, feeling as though she trod on a cloud and not slate tile. “You are a marvelous dancer, Your Grace,” she breathed.
“And look at you, Miss Wolcott, dancing under the stares of the snobbish elite without a care in the world. In the midst of people without feeling a shred of panic.”
Teresa felt awe flow through her. “You are so right,” she exclaimed “Being among them does not bother me a bit.”
“Then I am very happy to have helped you.”
“But I cannot give myself such massages,” she said, nibbling her lip. “Nor would it be proper for you to do so.”
“Perhaps is you have a female companion,” he suggested. “She might aid in this.”
“I will certainly ask.”
The dance ended to the applause of those watching. Teresa curtsied as the Duke bowed to her. “Might I get you a drink, Miss Wolcott? Wine?”
“That would be lovely.”
Teresa, her head high and aware of the whispers around her, walked toward an open spot near the doors. She caught sight of Thomas’s furious gaze sent in her direction, and Amelia’s frown of disapproval. Not caring a whit that her brother and sister-in-law did not care for her to be dancing with the Devil Duke, Teresa ignored them as well, and smiled as His Grace approached her with two glasses of wine in his hand.
“May I offer you my compliments?” he asked, handing her one. “You are by far the most beautiful lady here.”
Teresa flushed under his admiring gaze. “Thank you. You flatter me unnecessarily.”
“Actually, I do not,” he said, sipping from his glass. “I speak my mind and refuse to compliment a lady unless it is deserved.”
“So if I were as ugly as the nether end of an ox, you would say so?”
The Duke laughed. “Well, I might not be quite so honest, as I have little desire to harm a lady’s feelings. I would simply not mention her looks at all.”
“Sensitive as well as handsome,” Teresa said with a grin. “Then I wish to pay you a compliment, Your Grace, for you are kinder than your reputation warrants. I happen to like men who have a compassionate streak that run through them.”
“As evidenced by the boy in the market.” His green eyes gleamed as he sent her a lightning fast wink.
“And your treatment of me this evening. I have not felt this good in a long while. Thank you.”
He gazed around at the people who continued to stare, whispering in small groups, and Teresa had no doubt her name would be on the next flaming hot scandal sheet. Nor did she care. “You amaze me, Miss Wolcott,” he commented. “You have no fear of being snubbed by these people here, just because we danced and are now talking together.”
Teresa sniffed, and sipped her wine. “People should mind their own business,” she said firmly. “Gossip is a sin, and being seen talking to a man in public should certainly not be construed as a crime. If these people wish to be so small and petty minded, that is none of my concern.”
His grin bloomed wide and he bowed. “I do like you, Miss Wolcott.”
“If they had less time on their hands, they might be less inclined to whisper in one another’s ears.”
The Duke lifted a brow. “We are, after all, the titled rich with servants to serve our every whim. That leaves more than enough time to gossip about one another.”
“Are you saying that you give as much as you get, Your Grace? Teresa asked, tilting her head to the side as she peered up at him.
“Hardly. I do not care what they do, who they have in their bed, or what they happened to say. No, I do not repeat what I know.”
“You’re not guilty of that sin then.”
“But I am guilty of many others.”
Teresa shrugged. “Are we not all guilty of something? None of us are perfect.”
“Perhaps. Though I cannot imagine what sins you may have committed, Miss Wolcott.”
“And those only my confessor knows,” she replied with a chuckle.
The Duke glanced around at the Whittaker guests, at the smaller clusters of aristocrats and wealthy merchants. “I would like to drive you home in my carriage, Miss Wolcott, if that is acceptable to you. I must depart now, but I still desire your company.”
Teresa smiled. “I would also like that. But I have not a chaperone.”
“I can assist with that,” the Duke replied. “I have offered a lift home to Mr. and Mrs. Coombs as well. Your reputation will remain intact.”
“Then I must inform my brother Thomas.”
“I do believe I am acquainted with your esteemed brother,” the Duke commented. “The best investigator the Bow Street Runners have ever had. He is reputed to be rigidly honest and firm in his integrity.”
“It would appear his reputation precedes him,” Teresa replied, observing Thomas watching them from across the room even as he spoke to the Baroness of Whittaker. “Yes, he has always been fascinated with finding things, even when we were children. Our father was an importer of rare silks from the Orient, and Thomas inherited the business. He runs it with the help of managers, but primarily investigates wrong doings around the city.”
“And I have heard he has put many a criminal in Newgate Prison.”
Teresa nodded. “That has also earned him much enmity as well. I often worry that someone may wish him harm.”
“That is a risk we all take, I fear.”
“Just let me inform him that you will be taking me home.”
Aware of the mass of people all around her, Teresa felt her chest tighten as she crossed the wide hall, yet the previous panic remained out of sight. She breathed in as deeply as she could, feeling some of the tension leave her. It still hovered in the background, however, and she knew that the Duke’s tension relief was wearing off.
Curtseying to the Baroness, Teresa smiled even as the older woman eyed her warily, as though she were a species of creature she had never seen before. “A word with you, Thomas?” Teresa asked.
His expression tight, Thomas excused himself from the Lady, and turned away so that they might speak without being overheard. “I don’t like you being with him,” Thomas snapped in an undertone.
“He is not what people say he is,” Teresa replied in a near whisper. “Nor is this the place for an argument. He wishes to take me home, so please permit this.”
“Without a chaperone?” Thomas hissed. “That is not acceptable behavior, Teresa. Think of your reputation.”
Teresa scowled. “He is also taking home Mr. and Mrs. Coombs, so I am chaperoned. Thomas, truly, the Duke is harmless, and it is a simple ride home. Nothing more.”
Turning, her anger driving her anxiety down deep where she could no longer feel it, she returned to the Duke’s side. He watched her come, his brow lifted. “I see that my request did not go over well with him,” he commented dryly. “Perhaps my invitation should be rescinded. I do not wish for your name to be tarnished because of me.”
The Duke smiled. “A woman with fierce courage and independence. You are most unusual, Miss Wolcott. Come then.”
Bowing footmen opened the doors for them, and Teresa walked at his side across the foyer to the main doors of the huge baronial mansion. More servants in livery and powdered wigs bowed low as they passed through them and onto the broad veranda outside. Lanterns held the darkness back, and decorated the nearby trees. Waiting carriages stood in neat rows, ready for the masters and mistresses to leave the party.
The Duke whistled sharply. One of the drivers cracked his whip, and a team of four matched greys trotted out from the line and headed toward them. Following the circular drive, the carriage rolled smoothly to halt in front of Teresa, the Duke, and the Coombs. Footmen leaped down from the rear steps to bow, opening the carriage doors.
Seating herself on the plush leather, Teresa heard the Duke inform the coachman where to go in order to drop her off. She glanced around, awed by the sheer luxury, the portly Mrs. Coombs at her side. “And this is just your carriage.”
His Grace smiled as he entered, and sat opposite her with Mr. Coombs beside him. “I have a mansion here in the city, as well as estates in the country. I have not visited them lately, however. Perhaps I will when the Season is over.”
“You also have a business here in town, do you not?” she asked as the team rolled the coach down the long drive.
“A few of them, yes,” he replied. “I breed fine horses at my estate in Lancashire, as well as buying and selling property here in the city.”
Teresa gazed out the window at the dark trees that lined the avenue, stark against the starlight gleaming down from the heavens. “You must be incredibly wealthy.”
“I suppose that is true. I studied hard at Eton, and took certain advantages when the opportunities came.” He smiled wryly, his green eyes gleaming. “Nothing illegal, I assure you. It is not my business activities that garner attention, just my social proclivities.”
Though it came to her tongue to mention the scandals surrounding his many affairs with women both in England and on the Continent, Teresa refrained. They were none of her business after all. “Do you have brothers or sisters?” she asked.
“A sister,” he answered. “Currently married to the Count of Eban in York.”
“Are you close?”
His Grace stared out the window. “I am afraid not. My family was not what you might call loving.
My father was a hard man, strict in his rules, married my mother for her connections. He never loved her, nor did he seem to care much about his offspring.”
“That is terrible.”
“It is, if you come from people who loved one another. For me, it was normal. But it also makes me cynical when it comes to relationships, and perhaps why I prefer married women over young single heiresses.”
“Do you not ever wish to marry, Your Grace?” she asked, horrified at the thought of him growing up in a loveless home.
“One day. Maybe.” He gazed past her head to the carriage wall, his expression blank. “If ever I meet the right woman.”
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A Lady to Redeem a Rakish Lord – A Preview
Chapter 1
The Campbell’s Cottage, Havenswood, the Outskirts of London, Early December 1836
Miss Ophelia Campbell
“Do you think father will come back early, mother?” Ophelia asked, pausing her needlework.
“I suppose he should,” replied her mother. “Either way, I’d rather we not expect him so soon.” It was just the two of them in the parlor, busy knitting. Ophelia hated knitting, but this was a task her mother said every lady was supposed to know.
Ophelia sighed. “It will be a shame if he is to miss the Christmas fair,” she sulked as she continued her needlework. She wanted to be done with her embroidery before Emily, her best friend, came for it.
She had been working hard on it and wanted to impress Emily. Her mother had said on several occasions how talented Emily was at just about everything and how much Ophelia could learn a thing or two from her, much to Ophelia’s annoyance. It was no wonder that Emily got engaged in a timely manner.
“It would not be the first time and neither will it be the last,” replied her mother. “Surely, you have grown used to not having your father around during a time like this?”
Ophelia sighed, knowing how right her mother was. Having a merchant as a father was one challenge Ophelia had always battled with, especially since she and her father were so close when she was younger.
And even though she had grown accustomed to him not being around during festive times, she could not stop herself from hoping that he would be around more.
“Has he always been this way, even during your courtship?” Ophelia asked with a slight smile. She loved hearing about the story of when her parents were still courting. She believed she would never get tired of it. To her, it was quite interesting.
Her mother threw her a frowny look. “There you go again, asking about your father and I. Do not you think it is high time you created your own love story?”
Ophelia expected that. “I certainly know, mother. But, I would not mind hearing about you two over and over. I’ve learned a lot from it.”
“What is there to learn from?” retorted her mother. “Your father was a merchant right before I met him, and even during courtship, I hardly saw him. That was why marrying him was easy. I knew he was not going to be around all the time, and I was alright with it. I knew what to expect.”
Ophelia looked surprised by this new information but then smiled. “I hope father knows how lucky he is to have you?”
“Oh, trust me, he does,” replied her mother and they both chuckled.
“At the same time, mother. I do not think I would want my husband to be far away from me all the time,” Ophelia stated, not looking up at her mother.
“Are you certain of that?”
“Yes, mother,” she replied, now looking up. “My father is hardly at home. Having a husband who follows the same pattern will be an everlasting torture. I’d rather stay single.”
Her mother smiled. “Well, that is a good decision. You need to know what you want before going for it,” replied the mother. “At the same time, once you marry him, I do not think anything else matters. You just have to get along with whatever he does.”
Ophelia smiled and looked up. “Did you love father before marrying him?” she asked again. She had never asked her mother this question.
“Love was not really necessary during that time. He was always away tending to business and I took care of the home as expected by society. We balanced each other out. That is all that matters”
“I do not wish to go into a loveless marriage,” Ophelia replied with a solemn tone. “It will make a lot of things easier when you love each other.”
Her mother frowned. “You amaze me, child. Most girls of today only care about wealth and status. You seem not to care about these things.”
Ophelia shrugged with a sigh. “No, mother. I believe girls who seek wealth are just greedy and they do not know what’s best for themselves. And as for those who seek status, the same thing applies to them. I believe in love.”
Her mother gave her an amusing smile and shook her head. “You are so wrong, my dear. Love is not a necessity for a lasting marriage. I never loved your father before I married him. But as time went on, I grew to love your father.”
Ophelia shook her head. “I have heard that love is a beautiful thing and it makes a lot of things easier.”
“That is naïve thinking. Society does not have time for that, Ophelia. You have
to do the right thing at the right time!”
“Well, society is wrong,” said Ophelia. “I shall not marry someone I do not love.”
Her mother shook her head. “What about Emily?”
“Emily,” Ophelia said, thinking for a while. Emily was engaged to be married in the next four months. “Well, it’s difficult to say,” she replied. Emily and her fiancé had an arranged marriage and it was the last thing that Ophelia would succumb to.
Her mother inhaled. “Love or no love, Ophelia. You are twenty. You need to find yourself a suitor.”
Ophelia knew where this was heading and immediately regretted starting the whole conversation.
Regency Diaries of Seduction Collection: A Regency Historical Romance Box Set Page 85