How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

  “I lost my head,” he muttered.

  “Have no fear,” Hawk drawled. “It’s still attached to your neck.”

  “I never meant this to happen,” Tristan said.

  “Do I have to hear this?”

  “Damn it all. I’m in trouble.”

  Hawk waved his hand. “No, you’re lucky it was only me who burst in on you. Sorry about that, old boy.”

  How far would he have gone if Hawk hadn’t arrived? “I kissed her,” he gritted out.

  “Oh, bloody hell, is that all? She’ll survive a chaste peck.”

  Tristan jerked his head up. “Chaste peck? I had my damned tongue down her throat.”

  “So it was a naughty kiss. It could have been worse.”

  “It was.” He’d had his hands all over her.

  “Did she try to stop you?”

  “She was probably overwhelmed by feelings she didn’t understand,” he said.

  “Maybe she enjoyed it.”

  “That doesn’t signify.” Tristan set his glass on the mantel and started pacing. She must think him the worst sort of libertine. If she resigned, a public scandal would ensue. There was no quiet way for her to bow out with ten girls still remaining in the courtship.

  “Sit down,” Hawk said. “You’re wearing a hole in the blasted carpet.”

  He retrieved his brandy and slumped on the sofa.

  “Hear me out, old boy,” Hawk said. “I’ve never known you to take risks. Until you met her.”

  Tristan huffed. “That’s rich. You’re suggesting she’s a bad influence on me. You do see the irony, I hope.”

  “I don’t know if it’s good or bad. I only know she has influenced you,” Hawk said. “And I still don’t understand what she hopes to gain.”

  “Matchmaking is her career. She takes pride in it.”

  Hawk sipped his brandy. “It’s an odd career for a woman who refuses to wed.”

  “Her career is not the issue,” Tristan said. “I crossed a line, and now I’ve got to deal with the repercussions.”

  “No one knows but me and the two of you. So officially, she’s not compromised. Miss Mansfield strikes me as a worldly woman, and frankly, she didn’t protest.”

  He recalled her shock at his refusal to apologize for his liaisons that first day he’d called on her. “If you’re insinuating she wanted me to kiss her, you’re wrong. She’s got high-minded notions of morality.”

  “If that’s the case, she’s likely feeling guilty,” Hawk said. “After all, she’s your matchmaker and owes allegiance to you and those girls you’re courting. She probably thinks she’s to blame.”

  Tristan met his friend’s eyes. “The blame is mine.”

  “Apologize,” Hawk said. “Say you were both caught up in the moment. It was a difficult day. What happened was an aberration, a momentary lapse in judgment.”

  “Right.” Tristan tossed back the remainder of his brandy.

  “It’s not irreparable,” Hawk said.

  “And if she thinks it is? What then? She might resign.”

  Hawk gave him an enigmatic look. “Do you want to continue with the courtship?”

  “I have to find a bride,” Tristan said. “At least this way, I have a better chance of knowing the sort of woman I’m marrying.”

  “Are you making any progress?”

  “I’ve eliminated fourteen,” Tristan said, a little too defensively.

  “Are any of them serious contenders?”

  “It’s too early to tell yet,” Tristan said.

  “I see,” Hawk said, his tone dubious.

  Tristan chose not to challenge Hawk. “It’s probably a moot point now. Miss Mansfield is a stickler when it comes to making matches. She’ll likely quit tomorrow.”

  “She won’t,” Hawk said. “Remember, she has as much to lose as you do, maybe more. All of society knows about this courtship. She won’t risk causing a scandal.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Tristan said.

  By early afternoon the next day, the rain had stopped and the roads had dried enough to send the girls home. Tristan paced the drawing room, waiting for all of them to assemble. Before they left, he would let them know his decision.

  The last of the girls entered, but still Miss Mansfield had not arrived. A trickle of sweat beaded down his neck. What if she didn’t show?

  Then let her hang, he thought. She’d interrogated him about his past liaisons, but when put to the test, she’d failed. If she quit, she’d suffer the brunt of the scandal.

  The devil take him. She would never have met him in secret if he’d not told her it was important. He’d treated her badly.

  The silence in the room unnerved him. The candidates sat rigidly on their chairs, their expressions anxious. They were nervous, too. He cleared his throat. “Lady Georgette, you are recovered?”

  She blushed. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Excellent,” he said.

  Miss Hardwick reached over and patted Georgette’s hand. Obviously Amy truly cared about Georgette’s welfare. Guilt burned his chest as he recalled what he’d said last night.

  The rustle of skirts brought his attention to the door. Miss Mansfield entered. Her severe expression jolted him. He swallowed hard, not knowing if she meant to resign in front of the girls. Remembering Hawk’s words, he could only hope an instinct for self-preservation would overcome her matchmaking principles.

  “Your Grace,” she said quietly. “Do you wish to meet individually with the candidates?”

  Relief filled him. “That will not be necessary,” he said.

  She gave him a questioning look.

  “Trust me,” he whispered.

  She averted her gaze, but not before he noted the disturbed look in her eyes. The devil. How could he have sullied her last night?

  He had to brazen this out and hoped his decision would appease her until he could apologize in private. With a deep breath, he faced the bridal candidates. “Ladies,” he said, “I know this is difficult for you, so I won’t keep you waiting. After much deliberation, I have decided not to eliminate anyone today.”

  Shrieks erupted. The girls hugged one another and chattered.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Mansfield whip her face toward him. He resisted the urge to return her gaze, knowing he must keep his focus on the excited girls.

  “Ladies, could I have your attention again?” When they quieted, he continued. “You may wonder about my reasons. Due to the inclement weather, you were all subjected to distress. I enjoyed your company, but it was a trying day. And not everyone was able to join us last night.”

  He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I wish to acknowledge Miss Hardwick. She is to be commended for staying behind last evening to look after Lady Georgette. It would not be fair to eliminate either of them, but it would not be fair to eliminate anyone who attended the gathering either. In the next few days, all of you will receive invitations. For now, carriages are waiting downstairs to return you to your families.”

  They all rushed up to him. He noted Lady Georgette had taken a reluctant Miss Hardwick in hand and drawn her to the group. The girls spoke all at once, but his attention wandered over to Miss Mansfield, who had walked over to the window. He felt as tightly strung as a violin, thinking of their impending discussion. Had his actions today been enough to prove to her he wasn’t a complete cad?

  Soon a footman arrived to escort the girls downstairs. Miss Mansfield wished them all a safe journey, relieving his fear she would follow them downstairs and prevent him from apologizing.

  When the last of the girls left, he shut the door and faced her. “Will you sit with me?” he asked.

  She joined him on the sofa, gazing at her clasped hands.

  He cleared his throat. “I will not offer you excuses for last night. My behavior was inexcusable.”

  “I did not stop you,” she whispered.

  Hawk had been right. She blamed herself. “Look at me,” he said.

  She shook
her head.

  “It was my fault,” he said. “I shocked you. I shocked myself. Nothing can change what I did, but you must believe I have never done anything like this before.”

  “I believe you,” she whispered.

  “You are a virtuous lady and deserve better treatment.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath.

  “An apology is insufficient,” he said, “but I promise never to dishonor you again.”

  “I accused you of being unfair to Miss Hardwick,” she said. “I was too forceful, even though you warned me.”

  “You are not to blame.” Deep down, he knew it was desire, not anger, that had precipitated that kiss. He’d been stealing glances at her luscious body since the first day he’d met her. Perhaps it was his celibacy that had broken his control. Or more likely sheer lust for a high-spirited woman with curves that would tempt the devil. Regardless of the cause, he had lost all control.

  “We were not ourselves last night,” he said, “but I know better than to take advantage of a maiden’s innocence. If you continue to blame yourself, it will only add to my shame.”

  Her throat worked. “Does Lord Hawkfield know?”

  Tristan hesitated a beat too long.

  “Oh, God,” she said, covering her face.

  “You are not to blame.”

  “How could I do this to the girls?”

  “They will never know.”

  She lowered her hands and gazed at him, her face crimson. “I will.”

  “We made a mistake, but we are adults,” he said. “We will go forward. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. You are one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met.”

  He inhaled. “I don’t deserve that.”

  “Yes, you do. You kept Amy in the competition, even though you are not attracted to her.”

  “I kept her because she alone cared enough to stay with Georgette. Her selfless act showed her kindness and maturity. You opened my eyes to her special qualities.”

  Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  He squeezed her hands. “Can we be friends?”

  “You do me too much honor, Your Grace.”

  “Will you call me Tristan? As a friend?” The minute the words flew from his mouth, he held his breath. Would she think it a sly attempt to seduce her into another indiscretion?

  She searched his eyes, as if trying to reach through to his very soul. “Tristan, it is,” she said. “As my friend, you may call me Tessa. In private.”

  He exhaled. “You have a beautiful name.”

  When she blushed, he released her hands. “May I call upon you tomorrow to discuss the next round of the courtship?”

  She nodded. “I must go.”

  He walked her to the door and breathed a sigh of relief. He was damned lucky she’d forgiven him. A weaker woman might have made a scene. Tessa, however, was stronger than any woman he’d ever met.

  As she descended the stairs, she trailed her graceful fingers along the banister. Her white muslin gown whispered round her generous curves. His gaze riveted on her swaying hips. Heat sparked in his veins. He fisted his hands, determined to master his unruly desire for her.

  He must not, could not, ever allow lust to overrule his head again. The risk was too high.

  She wasn’t alone.

  The next day, Tristan entered Tessa’s drawing room to find her deep in conversation with Lord and Lady Broughton. At first, he was irritated with Tessa for entertaining friends when he’d made an appointment. Then he thought it selfish of him. She’d always made time for him. He should not begrudge her friends when she gave so much and asked nothing in return.

  When he saw Lady Broughton dabbing a handkerchief at her eyes, he realized he’d arrived at an inopportune time. “My apologies,” he said. “I will come back another day.”

  Tessa turned to him. “Please join us.” Her voice sounded strained.

  Judging from Lady Broughton’s tear-stained cheeks, something untoward had happened. Even Miss Powell looked distressed.

  Broughton strode over and shook his hand. “Good to see you, Shelbourne.”

  “I fear I’ve interrupted,” he said.

  “Not at all. I was sharing some news with Miss Mansfield about my wife’s brother, Mortland. He disappeared at the battle of Toulouse, and I’m investigating.”

  Tristan frowned. Two years had elapsed since that fateful battle in France. “He was an officer?”

  “A lieutenant,” Broughton said. “I recently corresponded with his superior officer. He recalled seeing him before the attempt to cross the Garonne River.”

  Tristan schooled his features. According to reports, the bridge had fallen due to flooding. If Lady Broughton’s brother had survived the crossing, he would have faced fierce odds during the battle.

  “I have a few other leads,” Broughton continued. “I sent a few letters and hope to locate some of Mortland’s fellow officers. Perhaps one of them saw him on the battlefield.”

  The chances of anyone recalling what had happened to Lady Broughton’s brother at this late date were slim. Tristan turned to Broughton’s wife. “I am deeply sorry, ma’am.”

  “Thank you for your condolences,” she said.

  Tristan regarded Broughton. “May I be of assistance in your search?”

  “Thank you, but there’s not much else to be done.” Broughton’s guarded expression spoke volumes. He didn’t want his wife to know he thought the search a futile effort.

  “Will you take a seat, Your Grace?” Tessa asked.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  The conversation drifted to the typical dull observations about the weather. Then Lady Broughton set her cup aside, opened her reticule, and drew out a letter. “I’ve been reading all of my brother’s letters again and brought this one for you, Tessa. Richard mentioned you. I thought you might wish to read it.”

  Tessa hissed in a breath, drawing everyone’s attention to her. All the color drained from her face. “I could not take your letter.”

  “You can return it later,” Lady Broughton said.

  Tessa regarded the letter as if it were a snake. With obvious reluctance, she took it.

  “It was one of his early letters,” Lady Broughton said. “He seemed anxious about you. Perhaps you can make out why he was so concerned.”

  An arrested expression crossed Tessa’s face. “I’m sure he was only making a polite inquiry.” She set the letter on the settee. Then she gripped her hands in her lap. A shadow seemed to pass over her features.

  Tristan stilled. Why did that letter trouble her so much?

  “I am surprised my brother did not inquire after your uncle,” Lady Broughton continued.

  Broughton looked at Tristan. “Wentworth purchased Mortland’s commission.”

  Tristan gave Tessa a sympathetic look, realizing she probably felt guilty because her uncle had purchased the commission. Her guilt was misplaced, of course. He decided to speak to her about it when they were alone.

  “Well,” Tessa said. “I believe we’re all ready for more tea.” As she poured, Miss Powell handed round the cups.

  Twenty minutes later, Broughton turned to his wife. “My dear, we must be off now.”

  After their departure, Miss Powell quit the drawing room as well. Tessa plucked the letter off the settee, walked over to the desk, and deposited it in a drawer. Then she glanced at him. “May I bring you a brandy?”

  “Yes, thank you,” he said.

  When she brought him the drink, their fingers brushed. Alarm flitted through her eyes. Then she snatched her hand back as if scalded.

  Her reaction made him feel like a devil. As she took her seat and stared at her clenched hands, he wondered if he should apologize again for that kiss at Ashdown House. But doing so would likely embarrass her. He decided to concentrate on the matchmaking business. “I’ve been thinking about the next round of the courtship.”

  “So have I,” she s
aid. “I think it’s time to observe the candidates out in society.” She gave him a tremulous smile.

  “I thought of calling on them here.” He sipped his brandy. “I prefer not to expose the courtship to the prying eyes of the ton.”

  “You need to see how the girls comport themselves in a public setting. We could attend the opera. That way you can control who is allowed in your box.” She paused and then added, “We should invite your mother and sister. They can converse with the girls. All of society, well, those at the opera, will see that your family supports the courtship.”

  He groaned. “You’re determined to surround me with an army of females.”

  “You may invite Lord Hawkfield.”

  “He despises the opera. So do I.”

  “All the more reason to focus your attention on the bridal candidates.”

  He took a long drink of brandy. “There are still ten candidates. It might be best to have one more private session first.”

  She considered his words for a long moment. “You can arrange to speak privately with a chosen few. During that time, your mother, sister, and even Lord Hawkfield can talk to the other candidates. I think it would be helpful to have their opinions.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “My opinion is the only one that counts.”

  “You will make the final choice about who will remain and who will go,” she said. “However, the girls may reveal a different side of their characters to your family and to Lord Hawkfield.”

  “I suppose so,” he said grudgingly. Damnation, he should have refused. So why had he not? Because he felt guilty for kissing her.

  “Try to look on the bright side,” she said. “You might actually enjoy it.”

  “I doubt it,” he grumbled.

  That earned him a laugh.

  “Tessa, I hesitate to interfere in your personal affairs, but I could not help but notice your uneasiness over that letter.”

  Her expression grew wary.

  “I suspect you feel guilty because your uncle purchased the lieutenant’s commission.”

  She stared at her clasped hands. “Anne still grieves for her brother.”

  “She deserves your sympathy, but you must absolve yourself and your uncle of guilt. It was generous of him to provide the commission. No one is to blame for what happened.”