How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

  “Piss off,” Hawk growled.

  Tristan stared at Hunter. When the man returned his gaze, Tristan lifted his brandy glass, indicating no hard feelings. He’d be damned if he would let Hunter think he’d won a contest over the chit.

  Hunter held his glass aloft and inclined his head.

  Tristan exchanged a speaking look with Hawk. They both rose.

  “I say, do you mean to call out Hunter?” Westerly’s eyes gleamed.

  Tristan stared him down. “What I mean to do is bloody your nose if you don’t stand aside.”

  Westerly held up his hands and backed up, nearly tripping over his feet. “No harm intended, Shelbourne.”

  Ignoring Westerly, Tristan forced himself to stroll as he took his leave, but he could feel the stares. By tomorrow morning, the bloody scandal sheets would print the news and make sport of him again. He gritted his teeth as he and Hawk collected their greatcoats, gloves, and hats.

  After his father’s death, Tristan had sworn no one would ever humiliate him or his family again. Tessa would pay dearly for this. He’d see to it she never made another match again.

  Once they stepped outside, Hawk adjusted his hat at a jaunty angle. “I’m trying to remember which one is Miss Fielding. Is she a blonde or a brunette?”

  Tristan’s jaw worked. “Yes.”

  Hawk snorted. “You don’t remember.”

  “Remember what?” he gritted out.

  “Never mind. What are you planning to do?”

  “Have a few choice words with Miss Mansfield.”

  “About Hunter and Miss Fielding?”

  “Miss Mansfield has some explaining to do.” He’d give her a tongue-lashing she’d never forget.

  “Be fair,” Hawk said. “She may not know.”

  “It’s her business to know about the bridal candidates.” She’d live to regret crossing him. He’d see to it everyone in society cut her.

  “It’s late,” Hawk said. “You should wait until tomorrow before speaking to her. Let your temper cool.”

  “No.”

  “She may not be at home. Sleep on this and call on her first thing tomorrow.”

  “If she’s not home, I’ll find her.” He’d scour the entire city if necessary.

  “You’d better let me come with you,” Hawk said as Tristan’s carriage arrived.

  “No.”

  “I’ll chaperone,” Hawk said.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  In the misty yellow gaslight, Hawk’s teeth gleamed. “She might.”

  When Tessa heard a masculine voice, she rushed to the landing. Gravesend followed Tristan, who strode into the great hall. “It’s after midnight,” her faithful butler said. “My mistress is not receiving.”

  “Gravesend, I’ll make an exception,” she said.

  Tristan looked up. The cold look in his blue eyes startled her. He knew.

  Her butler shuffled off, mumbling under his breath.

  The clip of Tristan’s boots on the marble floor echoed in the silent house. He strode up the steps, never taking his icy gaze off her. When he reached the landing, he came so close to her, she instinctively started to take a step back but stopped. Though he towered over her, she lifted her chin. “Will you join me in the drawing room?”

  He gave her a curt nod and opened the door.

  “May I offer you a brandy?” she said, heading toward the sideboard.

  The door clicked shut. “You may offer me an explanation.”

  The brusque tone of his voice made her turn. He stood near the door, looking every inch the haughty duke. A very tall, very angry duke.

  “Shall we be seated?” she said, as if nothing were untoward.

  He strode up to her so fast she gasped. “How long have you known about Miss Fielding’s engagement to Viscount Hunter?”

  She bristled at his accusing tone. “Since Mrs. Fielding and her daughter called on me at three o’clock this afternoon. I sent three missives to your town house, but you never answered. Where were you?”

  “I owe you no explanations.”

  “I tried my best to inform you. It’s not my fault you were from home.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What I want to know is why you invited Miss Fielding to participate when she was courting another man?”

  “I questioned her about Hunter before inviting her to the courtship.”

  “You knew?” he said in an outraged voice. “You invited her even though you knew about her feelings for Hunter?”

  “She told me she’d given up on him last year. Hunter dragged his feet too long. Evidently your interest in Miss Fielding spurred him. He must have realized he stood to lose her.”

  “I’m happy to have been of service.” Tristan strode over to the fireplace and leaned his hands on the mantel.

  “When they called today, I reminded Miss Fielding and her mother that the girls were not allowed to court other men,” Tessa said. “They claimed Hunter showed up unexpectedly yesterday and made her an offer of marriage.”

  Tristan huffed. “And you believed them?”

  “Of course I found their explanation suspect, but she accepted Hunter, so it is of no importance now.”

  “No importance?” he said, gripping the marble mantelpiece.

  An exasperated sigh escaped her. “Why are you so vexed?”

  He glanced over his shoulder, his blue eyes freezing her. “Imagine my shock when Hunter announced his betrothal at my club tonight.”

  She winced, realizing he’d taken a blow to his pride. “I’m sorry you found out that way.”

  “Sorry? That’s all you have to say?” He raked her with a scathing look. “I trusted you. If you had done your duty, it never would have happened.”

  “I did the best I could. And if you will calm down, you will realize it is better to learn now that she still holds feelings for Hunter.”

  “What if I had found out too late? What if I had married her only to find out she secretly yearned for Hunter?”

  “If she had married you, she would have had to relinquish all feelings for him.”

  “And if she didn’t?”

  She inhaled. “What are you suggesting?”

  “When I gave you the bridal requirements, I specified my future wife should have an unblemished reputation.”

  “I would not have invited the girls if they did not have excellent reputations,” she said.

  “Do you even know if any of them are courting other men?”

  “I’m sure we would have heard.”

  His eyes narrowed. “The same way we heard about Miss Fielding?”

  “How was I supposed to know Hunter would renew his addresses to her?” she said, her voice rising.

  “You needn’t concern yourself. I intend to discover everything I can about the others. Something you should have done in the first place.”

  “I relied on reports of their characters, as anyone would do.”

  “You did not even try. Did it ever occur to you that their families may have covered up indiscretions?”

  She scoffed. “God forbid you should find out one of them allowed a man to kiss her.”

  He stiffened. “Touché.”

  Her stomach clenched. She’d not meant to refer to their forbidden kiss.

  He executed a stiff bow. “Good-bye, Miss Mansfield.”

  She gasped. As he strode away, she hurried after him. “Tristan, wait, please.”

  He reached the door. Then he leaned against it.

  She walked up behind him. “Tristan, I’m so sorry. I—”

  “No apologies.”

  “But I knew your pride—”

  “Say no more.”

  “Please listen. When Caroline told me she no longer cared for Hunter, I believed her to be sincere,” she said. “To be honest, I thought you would shrug it off. After all, you told the girls they could withdraw at any time.”

  “You don’t understand.” He pushed away from the door and regarded her with a bleak expression. “I
will not marry a woman who is apt to betray me. The scandal would hurt my mother and sister.”

  Evidently Caroline’s defection had touched off some wound deep inside him. “Tristan, did someone betray you?”

  A long moment passed before he responded. “Not me.”

  She searched his eyes, the question unspoken.

  “My father was unfaithful to my mother.”

  “It must have hurt her very much,” she whispered. And him as well.

  “She forgave him,” he said. “She always did.”

  Her heart ached for his mother. “She loved him.”

  “It is her favorite illusion.”

  Oh, dear God. Tristan had only been seventeen when his father died. He must have been young when he’d learned about his father’s indiscretions. She could only guess at his confusion over his mother’s feelings and his disillusion over his parents’ unhappy marriage.

  No wonder he didn’t believe in love.

  He cleared his throat. “You should have told me about Miss Fielding at the very start. From now on, you will report everything you learn about the girls, even if it is only a rumor. Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” he asked.

  She had no choice but to prevaricate. “I’ve nothing to report about the other girls.”

  “You must be honest with me. If I make a mistake, I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. And I will not risk marrying a woman who might bring disgrace upon me and my family.”

  She lowered her gaze, unable to look him in the eyes.

  He bade her good night and strode out.

  Her stomach churned as she shut the door. Tristan demanded honesty and an unblemished reputation. He had every right to both.

  She had neither.

  Tristan walked into her foyer. The elderly butler’s weathered face puffed up like a toad as he handed over Tristan’s greatcoat, gloves, and hat.

  When Tristan donned his hat, the butler had the audacity to scowl at him.

  Tristan gave him his best ducal glare.

  “No man mistreats my mistress,” Gravesend said in his gravelly voice.

  The old man’s words pummeled his gut. Hell, he’d burst into her home after midnight and taken out his humiliation on her. The devil. He’d mistreated her.

  Tristan glanced out into the great hall, knowing he should go upstairs. And, damn it, apologize.

  “Don’t even think of going to her. You’ve bothered the little missy long enough.”

  Little missy? Tristan eyed the old man, remembering she’d told him the butler was her long-time favored servant. Well, hell.

  The butler opened the door. Tristan gave him a curt nod and strode out, holding on to his hat as the chilly wind buffeted him. Turmoil roiled inside him. He’d let his anger overrule him tonight, and then he’d confessed about his father’s infidelity.

  What had possessed him? He’d buried his father thirteen years ago without a backward glance. For reasons he could not understand, Tessa had managed to penetrate his cool reserve. From now on, he would keep their discussions solely focused on the courtship. And he’d damn well better stop imagining her naked in his bed.

  His driver jumped down and opened the door as Tristan approached. The light rain doused one of the two oil lamps at the gate. He’d almost reached the carriage when he noticed a hackney cab stationed half a block away. The square was empty otherwise. Suddenly, the hackney lurched into motion. Tristan watched as it circled the square and rolled away into the night.

  The back of his neck prickled. London was a dangerous place, full of thieves and cutthroats. A woman alone was an easy target for ruffians.

  “Hold a moment,” Tristan said to his driver. Then he strode back up the walk and banged the knocker.

  Gravesend opened the door and lifted his candle. “What now?” he said in a surly voice.

  Tristan held his temper with an effort. “There was a suspicious hackney down the street. You should keep extra vigil to ensure your mistress’s safety.”

  Gravesend’s weathered eyes filled with alarm. “Thank you, Your Grace. I’ll set footmen to keep watch.”

  Tristan nodded and returned to his carriage, feeling a bit foolish. A thief wouldn’t travel by hackney and risk the driver’s remembering his face. Probably it was only a dandy, too drunk to recall where he lived. He almost convinced himself there was no cause for concern, but he worried about her all the same.

  Chapter Nine

  The roar of voices filled the King’s Theatre in Haymarket.

  Tessa’s nerves jittered as she and Jane entered the duke’s box. It was the largest one in the theater. Across the wide expanse of the horseshoe-shaped auditorium, the crème de la crème filled five tiers of ornately carved boxes. Their heads swerved in Tessa’s direction. The tall feathers in the ladies’ coiffures bobbed as they leaned toward one another, whispering and pointing with their fans.

  Her mouth dried like dead winter leaves. She told herself not to allow their stares to bother her. After all, she’d known the duke’s courtship would garner attention from every corner. But knowing in the abstract was quite different from the reality. She felt exposed, quite like one of those horrifying dreams where she found herself naked in a crowd.

  Behind her, Jane gasped. “I had no idea the theatre was so enormous. Look how the light sparkles like stars.”

  Jewels winked from the reflection of the chandeliers suspended from brackets along each tier of boxes. The lack of glass shades, however, resulted in a profusion of wax dripping down into the pit.

  “I will take my place in the chair at the back of the box,” Jane said.

  Tessa nodded absently as she scanned the interior. Tristan stood close to the balcony, surrounded by all the bridal candidates. The duchess sat chatting with Julianne and Hawk.

  “There is Miss Mansfield.”

  Startled by Tristan’s voice, Tessa met his gaze. His long, muscular legs showed to advantage as he strode toward her, a bright smile on his handsome face. He wore a black coat with gilt buttons. His white silk waistcoat made a dramatic contrast.

  When he halted before her, she smiled. “You look every inch the most eligible and handsome bachelor in England.”

  His appreciative gaze swept over her blue satin dress, the netting and blond lace a frilly departure from the simpler styles she usually favored. “And you, my lady, are positively the most ravishing matchmaker I’ve ever known.”

  “Quite probably the only one you know.”

  He laughed.

  Her heart thudded as she drank in his smile. Then reality intruded. Her only role in his life was to ensure he chose a wife for love. After what she’d learned about his parents’ troubled marriage, she was even more determined to see that he found a bride capable of breaching the fortress he’d erected round his heart.

  She glanced at the bridal candidates, noting that the duchess, Julianne, and Hawk now stood with the circle of girls. “Shall we join the others?” she asked.

  When he offered his arm, she set her gloved hand on his sleeve. Awareness of his warm body engulfed her. The faint scent of his masculine cologne aroused forbidden yearnings in her. He glanced down at her with a boyish, lopsided grin, making his escort seem suddenly intimate. Her heart fluttered.

  When they reached the young ladies, Elizabeth glared at her. Tessa withdrew from Tristan’s escort and smiled, determined to rise above Elizabeth’s cattiness. Elizabeth ignored her and took the opportunity to commandeer Tristan’s arm. Unable to bear the sight, Tessa turned away.

  Her gaze settled on Amy Hardwick. The shy girl looked elegant tonight in a jade gown that draped her slim, tall figure. She’d cut her hair, taming the frizzy red locks into soft curls.

  Tessa walked over to Amy, who stood between Georgette and Julianne. “You look stunning in that gown,” she said, careful to keep her voice low.

  Julianne locked arms with Amy. “Isn’t she lovely?” She exchanged a conspiratorial wink with Georgette.

  Amy blushe
d. “Georgette and Julianne are responsible for my new look.”

  “I approve.”

  Lord Hawkfield sauntered over and fisted his hand on his hip. “I declare I’ve never seen so many pretty girls. And not a one has even the slightest interest in me.”

  Tessa lifted her brows. “I shall be happy to find you a bride, my lord.”

  Hawkfield held up his hands as if warding her off. “Have mercy on this confirmed bachelor.”

  Tessa laughed. Then she surveyed the group and noted that Tristan had extricated himself from Elizabeth. Satisfied, Tessa strolled about, mingling with the other girls.

  A few minutes later, the duchess approached. “Miss Mansfield, I believe the performance is imminent, but my scamp of a son has managed to disappear. Will you find him while I direct the girls to their seats?”

  “Yes, of course.” She walked to the back of the box, where a footman stood, guarding the entrance. Tessa frowned. Perhaps Tristan had dashed out to the facilities. With a sigh, she applied her fan and turned to watch the duchess herd the girls. Her lips twitched at the duchess’s obvious exasperation when the bridal candidates kept exchanging seats.

  The duchess looked back at Tessa and lifted her quizzing glass to her eye. Tessa shrugged. The duchess lowered the glass and made a shooing motion with her hand. With a groan, Tessa walked out into the corridor and halted.

  Tristan stood a few feet away with his back to her. A tall, dark-haired woman leaned against him and whispered in his ear. It was the widow, Lady Endicott, the woman Tessa had seen him with at Anne’s ball.

  Wave after wave of shock crashed over her.

  When Lady Endicott saw Tessa, a smug smile played on her lips. Tessa itched to slap the hussy.

  Lady Endicott stepped back, blew him a kiss, and sauntered off, swaying her hips. Tristan turned, met Tessa’s gaze, and winced.

  She whirled around.

  “Wait,” he called out.

  She stood still, clenching and unclenching her shaking hands. He was having a liaison with that woman.

  He strode up behind her and turned her to face him. “It’s not what you think.”