How to Marry a Duke

by Vicky Dreiling

  She snapped her fan shut. “How dare you sneak out with that hussy when you are supposed to be courting the girls?”

  “I saw her talking to the footman and took her outside before someone saw her,” he said in an undertone.

  “You should have instructed the footman to turn her away, but you wanted to flirt with her.”

  A couple walked past, eyeing the two of them with open curiosity. When they were out of earshot, Tessa returned her livid gaze to him. “You’re still involved with her, aren’t you?”

  “No,” he said under his breath. “I ended it the night I met you.”

  “Don’t lie to me. I saw her touching you. You didn’t even try to stop her.”

  He leaned down. “Did you expect me to push her away?”

  “A simple no would have sufficed.” She inhaled. “How could you? What if your mother had stepped out here? What if the girls had seen you?”

  “Even if I wanted her, I wouldn’t dare act upon the feeling. I’ve told you more than once I’ll not subject my family to scandal,” he said. “And I certainly wouldn’t risk it for a woman I know is trouble.”

  “You just did.” She glared at him. “Your mother already marked your absence. We’d better return before she becomes suspicious.”

  He took her arm, led her inside, and stopped. His jaw worked as if he were battling some inner demon. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered.

  A sliver of doubt lodged in her heart. Women chased him and freely offered themselves. Despite his vow to remain faithful to his wife, she feared he would yield to temptation in a moment of weakness.

  The same way she’d yielded to him at Ashdown House. A swift burning sensation flared in her chest. She was a hypocrite.

  He drew closer to her. “She means nothing to me.” He hung his head. “But, my friend, you do.”

  “You’re trying to sweet-talk me so I’ll forgive you.”

  He glanced at her from beneath his lashes. “I didn’t know I had it in me. Must be your influence,” he said.

  She swatted his arm with her fan. “Your rakish tricks won’t work on me.”

  “I made a mistake. Will you forgive me?” he said.

  She’d made plenty of mistakes in her life. God knew she’d give anything for a second chance. He’d admitted he was wrong. She’d come this far with him and decided to relent just this once. “Don’t do it again.”

  He crossed his finger over his heart. “I won’t.”

  Even though she knew he meant to charm her, her lips twitched. The rogue.

  Several of the girls turned to look at them. Tessa forced herself to concentrate on the courtship. “Which one of the lucky girls will you interview first?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Lady Georgette.”

  Hot jealousy raged like wildfire inside her. She struggled with the ugly emotion as his words came back to haunt her. I want to want my wife. He’d kissed and touched her, making her feel desired and wanted. The memory she’d secretly cherished crumbled like dry toast as she conjured up a vivid image of him kissing Georgette. She wanted to press her hands against her temples and push the picture out of her brain.

  He glanced down at her. Fearing he would see her jealousy, she averted her gaze. “Shall I fetch her?” Her voice cracked a bit.

  “No.” An awkward pause followed. “I’ll go.”

  Tessa watched as he made his way to Georgette and led her to the two chairs set apart in the front of the box. He bent his head, listening to something she said. With his jet hair and her sunshine-yellow curls, they made a striking couple.

  A thousand knives stabbed Tessa’s heart. Everything inside her cried out possessively, he is mine.

  She wrenched her gaze away, fearing someone might see. That was the moment she saw the other girls watching the couple. Their tormented expressions mirrored the wretched emotions roiling inside her.

  The realization brought on a wave of humiliation. She was reacting as if she were one of his bridal candidates. No, she was acting like a pathetic spinster, but that was nothing new. Whenever she attended to her correspondences these days, she found herself staring at nothing as she remembered something he’d said. Whenever she read the papers, she looked for news of him. Whenever the knocker rapped, she caught her breath, wondering if it was him.

  She knew he drummed his fingers when he was impatient. She knew he stretched out his long legs when he was relaxed. She knew he liked cake and did not take cream in his tea. And every time he called, her heart leaped with giddy excitement. As if she were a young, eligible belle and he was her beau. Oh, God, had he noticed?

  She could not bear the thought and prayed he didn’t know. For weeks now, she’d deluded herself in the worst possible way. She’d seen no harm in befriending him. She’d thought her nightly fantasies harmless. She’d not known how much it would hurt to watch him court the most beautiful young lady in the Beau Monde.

  Tonight was only a taste of what she could expect in the coming weeks. He was not her beau. He was only her friend, and even that was forbidden. She’d known it when he’d asked her to agree to a more familiar address. And she’d said yes, even though she’d fallen under his seductive spell at Ashdown House and allowed him indecent liberties.

  Tessa glanced at his profile and thought about all the times he’d teased her. She’d enjoyed bantering with him. With dawning insight, she realized she’d encouraged his flirtation because she liked being the center of his attention.

  Oh, dear God, what must he think of her? The answer sent another wave of humiliation through her: a lonely spinster starved for a man’s attention.

  The swish of skirts alerted her. Two young women walked toward her. Both Charlotte Longham and Catherine Cresswell had determined looks on their faces, looks that spelled trouble. Tessa regarded them warily.

  “Miss Mansfield,” Catherine said. “May we speak frankly?”

  “Is something the matter?” she asked, her voice too sharp.

  The two exchanged surprised glances.

  With considerable effort, Tessa donned a disinterested mask. She must not let her anguish show.

  “You tell her,” Charlotte said.

  Catherine fidgeted.

  “What is it?” Tessa asked, growing impatient.

  “We thought you should know Georgette is taking unfair advantage,” Catherine said in a rush.

  Tessa lifted her brows. Although she wasn’t fond of Georgette, she must never show it. “Ladies, unless you have solid proof of wrongdoing on her part, I advise you not to tread down this path.”

  Charlotte’s expression turned indignant. “Oh, we have proof. All the girls are talking about the way she has befriended Lady Julianne.”

  “Indeed,” Catherine said. “Elizabeth saw her eating ices at Gunther’s with the duke’s sister last week.”

  “And Henrietta saw them shopping together,” Charlotte added.

  “Georgette is pretending to be Lady Julianne’s friend so she can influence his sister to put in a good word for her,” Catherine said in a childish, whining tone. “It’s unfair.”

  “I see,” Tessa said, measuring her words. “And Elizabeth and Henrietta took the two of you into their confidence?”

  “We discussed it when we all met at Elizabeth’s house yesterday,” Charlotte said.

  “Except for Amy Hardwick,” Catherine said. “Everyone knows Georgette is pretending to be Amy’s friend, so the duke will think she is kind.”

  Obviously Elizabeth and Henrietta had stepped up their manipulative campaign to ensure the other girls ostracized Georgette. “I wonder why Elizabeth and Henrietta did not confide in me.”

  Catherine and Charlotte exchanged nervous glances.

  “Did they ask you to speak to me?” Tessa said.

  Charlotte shook her head. “No, but they thought someone should. When no one volunteered, Catherine and I decided to inform you.”

  Tessa was tempted to ask the two empty-headed girls if they had questioned why neither Eli
zabeth nor Henrietta had volunteered to tattle, but she held her tongue. The stage curtain rose, and a hush fell over the crowd, signaling the beginning of the performance. “Is there anything else?”

  Neither of the girls spoke.

  “In that case, please return to your seats.”

  Charlotte lifted her nose in the air. “I think we did the right thing by reporting to you, Miss Mansfield.”

  “You assume too much,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “There is no stipulation against befriending Lady Julianne. More important, you did not actually witness the events. It is hearsay as far as I’m concerned.”

  Charlotte’s chest heaved. “Well, Elizabeth and Henrietta saw her with their own eyes.”

  “They made sure all of you knew about it,” Tessa said. “Yet they did not report to me. But if you believe they have your best interests at heart, who am I to naysay?”

  Both Charlotte and Catherine stared at her with stunned expressions.

  As Tessa escorted them to their seats, she couldn’t help but wonder if Georgette was taking advantage of Julianne to improve her own chances with Tristan.

  • • •

  At intermission, Tessa stood with all the girls, only half listening to the conversation swirling around her. Her traitorous thoughts kept returning to Tristan’s lengthy interview with Georgette. The entire time, she’d kept glancing over at the two of them, despising herself. The worst part was that he’d not singled out any of the other candidates.

  She glanced at him. He stood near the balcony, speaking to Hawk. When he met her gaze, Tessa looked away, fearing her tumultuous emotions showed on her face.

  A few moments later, Tristan approached. The girls crowded round him, all except Georgette and Amy. They stood apart, whispering with Julianne. Georgette glanced over her shoulder at Tristan. A sweet smile spread across her pretty face, emphasizing her twin dimples. Tristan returned her smile. Then Georgette’s curly lashes lowered. She returned her attention to Amy and Julianne, a perfectly correct, perfectly ladylike response.

  A fist slammed into Tessa’s heart. She had no right to be jealous. If she were truly his friend, she would be happy for him. But she wasn’t. Because even though she could never have him, she didn’t want the prettiest girl to have him either.

  She stared at Georgette, wondering if the blond beauty had befriended Julianne as a means of gaining advantage in the competition. Was she a calculating witch? Or had she formed an honest friendship with Tristan’s sister? Tessa could not trust her judgment because she could not be objective.

  Soon all the girls’ parents invaded the box. Tristan shook hands with their fathers. The mothers crowded around the duchess. The excited chatter flowed. Tessa made an effort to greet the girls’ mothers, but they paid scant attention to her. She wandered through the crowd, smiling and trying not to look as insignificant as she felt, but the effort seemed fruitless. Why bother when no one even noticed?

  She started toward the back of the box, intending to speak to Jane, but halted when she saw her companion conversing with Mr. Hodges, the young man she’d danced with at Anne’s ball. Not wishing to disturb the couple, Tessa walked to the balcony, staring sightlessly at the milling people in the pit below.

  After seeing Tristan with Georgette, she suspected he would choose her. Probably soon. After tonight, it would all be over except for the formalities. The thought made her heart ache.

  Did he hold tender feelings for Georgette? Did Georgette love him? Or was it to be a dynastic marriage? Tessa sighed. She’d hoped to open his heart to love and further her matchmaking career. Foolishly, she’d thought her role as his matchmaker would garner her respect from the ton. Tonight, they’d ignored her as if she were little better than a servant. Nothing she did would ever change their opinion of her.

  Was she doomed to fail him and herself?

  Tessa squared her shoulders, determined not to give up on him. As for society, they could go hang for all she cared. But she did care because her career meant a great deal to her. She’d helped many young women make happy marriages and changed their lives forever. Given them what she could never have.

  “What are you doing standing here all alone?”

  Tristan’s deep voice startled her. “Oh, you surprised me,” she said, pressing a hand to her fast-beating heart.

  He stepped beside her. “What were you contemplating?”

  She shrugged. “I wondered about your interview with Georgette.” There, she’d sounded perfectly disinterested.

  “She is vivacious, as I expected.”

  Tessa wet her dry lips. “You found her agreeable?”

  “I liked her well enough.”

  An understated response if she’d ever heard one. Tessa glanced at him. “She must be elated. You spent the entire first half with her.”

  “I didn’t realize so much time had passed until the curtain came down.”

  Tessa’s heart plummeted like a brick to her stomach. He had been so taken with Georgette that he’d forgotten all about the other girls.

  “There they are,” the duchess called out in a hearty tone.

  They both turned at the sound of his mother’s voice. The duchess approached with Anne in tow.

  Tessa drew closer to Tristan. “I invited Lord and Lady Broughton to call at intermission,” she said in an undertone. “I hope you do not mind.”

  “Of course not,” he said. “But where is Broughton?”

  Anne quivered with excitement as she rushed up. “Oh,” she said pressing a hand to her heart.

  “Anne, what is it?” Tessa asked, frowning.

  “Geoffrey said I must ask permission first. Your Grace, may I bring a guest? He is waiting with my husband in the corridor.”

  “Your friend is welcome,” Tristan said.

  Stunned by her friend’s presumption, Tessa gave Anne a speaking look. “Who is he?”

  “I mean to surprise you.” Anne bobbed a curtsey, whirled round, and hurried away.

  The duchess lifted her quizzing glass and inspected Tessa. “You do not look eager to meet this gentleman.”

  “I’m stunned, to be honest.” Tessa turned her attention to Tristan. “I must apologize for her.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t mind meeting a friend of Broughton’s.”

  Tessa wondered why Broughton would send Anne to ask permission, but didn’t voice the words.

  Tristan craned his head and lifted his hand in greeting. “Ah, there is Broughton and his wife now. I don’t see the other fellow.”

  Tessa looked about, but could not see over the tall people blocking her view.

  “Come, let us meet them,” the duchess said.

  As they pressed through the crowd, Tessa tried to think of a reasonable explanation for Anne’s odd behavior and failed.

  The duchess regarded her with a crafty expression. “Perhaps your friend means to make a match for you.”

  Heat rushed to her face, knowing Tristan must have heard his mother. “She would never embarrass me in front of everyone.” But she realized Anne’s intentions would not matter. The duchess had made the assumption and others would, too. Tessa cringed as she imagined others taking note of the introduction. Oh, why had she not taken Anne aside and demanded an explanation? Everything had happened so quickly, she’d not had a chance.

  Many stared as they passed. Tessa lifted her chin, determined not to show her discomfort. They had almost reached the back of the box when she saw Lord Broughton. Next to him, Anne stood speaking to a short, muscular gentleman with curly blond hair. He stood with his face in profile. A prickling sensation stung the backs of Tessa’s hands. There was something familiar about him.

  The curly-headed man turned and gazed directly into Tessa’s eyes. Icy shock cascaded over her. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

  Tessa halted. All the blood drained from her head.

  “Miss Mansfield, are you unwell?” the duchess asked.

  Her voice seemed far, far away.

  Anne rushed fo
rward and took Tessa’s hands. “Is it not a miracle?” she said, her voice breaking. “My brother came home.”

  The crowd stirred, the low voices buzzing in Tessa’s ears.

  Anne released her and stepped aside. Lieutenant Richard Mortland limped forward and paused less than a foot away from Tessa. A moon-shaped scar curved from his eyebrow to his cheek. Fine lines crinkled at the corners of his puppylike brown eyes. His smile held a slightly sad quality. “Hello, Tessa.”

  Gasps reverberated round the box.

  It took a moment for her deadened brain to comprehend the reason for the uproar. Good God, he had called her by her Christian name.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss Mansfield.” Richard glanced down and scuffed the toe of his shoe on the floor. “I did not mean, that is to say, I meant no offense. Please forgive my dreadful error.”

  Anne placed her hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Of course Tessa will forgive you.” She looked round. “We all knew one another when Miss Mansfield came to live with her uncle. My father was the vicar, so we called upon Lord Wentworth often.”

  Tessa released her pent-up breath. Anne’s explanation had covered up Richard’s mistake, though Tessa suspected he’d done it on purpose. But why would he? And where had he been for two years? It was as if he’d risen from the dead.

  Richard’s eyes lit with interest when Lord Broughton introduced Tristan and the duchess.

  Everyone in the crowd squeezed closer. Lord Broughton cleared his throat and addressed them. He explained that his wife’s brother had been reported missing in action at Toulouse and had been presumed dead. During the battle, he had been wounded and left behind. While the battle raged, a peasant French family discovered him. “He hovered near death, nursed by the kind family for two years,” Broughton said.

  Richard kissed his sister’s cheek, a gesture that sent waves of feminine sighs through the crowd. Several ladies dabbed handkerchiefs at their eyes.

  “I hope you will all forgive the disturbance tonight,” Lord Broughton said. “My wife and I ask you to share our joy in Lieutenant Mortland’s return.”

  A round of applause followed. Richard inclined his head, obviously basking in the admiration.

  Tessa glanced at the crowd. The explanation about the French family sounded suspicious to her. Was she the only one who questioned the validity of the tale? Of course he would invent such a fantastic story. But really, how could he explain a total lack of communication for two years?