“Selina’s such an abominable flirt,” Lady Leah said darkly. Jasper looked at her in surprise. She was scowling.
“I didn’t find her to be such,” he said.
“Look at the way she’s teasing Lord Sandbourne,” she said. “He looks besotted. All the gentlemen just line up to be led on, and she goes from one to the next. It’ll happen all night.”
Jasper looked at Stephen. He’d seen his friend besotted before, and this was not what it looked like. Stephen threw his head back and laughed at something that Lady Selina said. It merely looked like they were having an enjoyable conversation.
He recalled the way that her smile had faded the moment he began speaking to her of love. She could have flirted then, but she hadn’t. She’d reminded him, gently, that he had a duty. It had been rather…admirable, proper.
The dance ended. He watched Lady Selina curtsy to Stephen, who bowed and offered her his arm. She took it. Stephen’s gaze searched him out, and when he spotted them, he said something to Lady Selina, who nodded. Jasper looked down, his heart pounding as she walked toward him.
“Here they come now,” Lady Leah said grimly.
“Lady Leah,” Stephen said as he and Lady Selina neared them. “Will you do me the honor of a dance?”
Jasper glanced at Leah, who was gritting her teeth as she smiled. “Of course, Lord Sandbourne. I’d be delighted.”
The two left, leaving Jasper alone with Lady Selina. She smiled, then snapped her fan open, covering her face, her alluring eyes studying him over the cream-colored lace.
“Alone again, Your Grace,” she said.
His pulse was racing as he looked at her. He smiled, swallowing. It felt like his mouth was full of cotton.
“Will you do me the honor of dancing with me, My Lady?” he asked.
She snapped her fan shut, revealing her smile. “Of course, Your Grace. After all, we’re soon to be family.”
He offered her his arm, and she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. He could smell her perfume—lavender and rose.
“Tell me, My Lady,” he said, so softly that no one else would hear. “Don’t you feel it, too?”
He looked her in the eyes. The smile had fallen from her face. “What if it’s only infatuation?” she whispered as he placed his hand on the small of her back, drawing her closer to him for the waltz.
“What if it’s not?” he replied, hope making his chest feel full of light.
“Why would you do something so rash?”
He began to lead in the box step, twirling her and then pulling her close. She was an excellent dancer, her technique perfect.
“Tell me, if given the choice between a loveless marriage, and the very distinct possibility that you’ve found a chance at true happiness, which would you choose?”
She stared up at him, her mouth pursed into a line.
They stepped back. When they stepped toward each other again, she answered. “I’d choose love, of course.”
“Can you tell me, without a doubt, that you don’t feel the same?”
She didn’t answer, the dance steps moving her away from him. When they were brought back together, he knew her answer—she didn’t need to say.
Chapter Three
Leah stood among the crowd, watching her cousin dance with her fiancé. Goosebumps raised all across the skin at the back of her neck, and her stomach flipped nauseously. The way that the Duke—her Duke— was looking at Selina was rather telling.
This was the very thing that she’d feared, as soon as her mother had announced that her cousin would be arriving.
When the dance brought them near to her, she heard His Grace say, “Can you not tell me that you feel the same?” Leah watched as Selina colored, the blush on her cheeks making her look the perfect English Rose.
Her heart hammered in her chest, and she felt rage, like a wildfire, consuming her. It had happened again. Selina had shown up and taken it all: the attention, the party, the Duke.
“I’ve never seen that lady before,” a gentleman said, his breath hot against her cheek. She turned to find herself face to face with Lord Reuben Munro, the Duke’s younger brother.
“My cousin, the Lady Selina Drake,” Leah replied, bracing herself for the usual questions, her eyes never leaving the pair.
“Why are you so glum, My Lady?” Lord Munro asked, causing Leah to look over at him. He was studying her closely.
“I—” She sighed, not wanting to finish the sentence.
“Tell me,” Lord Munro said, softly. “I won’t utter a word, My Lady.”
Leah looked into his eyes—so like the Duke’s, and yet not. “Lady Selina has always been the center of attention,” she said. “It’s my engagement party. Shouldn’t it be my turn?”
“Of course it’s your turn,” Lord Munro replied. “All you have to do is steal the show.”
Leah looked at the Duke and Selina, and then at Lord Munro, who was watching them wistfully. She watched as he took a sip of his punch.
“Is that even possible?” she asked.
“Of course it is,” he replied, his eyes still following his brother.
“Do you ever wish it was you?”
“Naturally,” Lord Munro commented. He raised a finger in the air, pointing it at Leah. “Alas, Jasper was born first.”
“I know how you feel,” she said, watching as he quirked one eyebrow doubtfully.
“Do you, My Lady?” he asked. “I recall you being the Lord Kirby’s only child.”
“She always got everything,” she said, nodding at Selina. “She’s always the center of attention, with people fawning over her golden hair, her creamy skin and those awful freckles. Not to mention, she’s precocious.”
“Oh?” Lord Munro looked at her with a kind smile.
“Always giving her opinions freely, whether you want to hear them, or not.”
“It must be hard to be in her shadow,” Lord Munro said.
“Extremely.” Leah glanced at him. He was so much like his brother—dark-blond hair, green eyes, but somehow, seemed lesser. And, she supposed, he was lesser. He was a lord, with nothing more than a hunting lodge on the edge of the estate. Leah certainly would never consider marrying him, even if he had been kind to her.
“If you wanted, you could take her place. After all, what does she have that you don’t?” Lord Munro pointed out. Leah looked at the Duke and her cousin.
Selina had just said something to the Duke, something which made him beam as if she’d just answered his fondest wish.
Something dark awoke in Leah’s breast as she looked back at Selina and the Duke, they were looking at each other with such tenderness. Anger, like she’d never experienced before. It wasn’t that she was in love with the Duke. It was that the title of Duchess was within her reach. Her greatest victory over Selina, who was only just debuted the year before, at seventeen.
“I am not her,” she replied softly.
“Just be yourself,” he said, then bowed low. “My Lady.” He then wandered off, disappearing into the crowd. Leah looked back at Selina and the Duke, fear kindling inside of her.
She’d wanted to be a Duchess, for as long as she could recall. When she was a young lady, she’d attended a Christmas party, here at Gillingham Manor. She recalled the Duchess, dressed in a fine cream-colored silk gown, and how everyone had called her Your Grace, and she’d smiled beatifically.
The house, the title, the handsome Duke—it was all supposed to be hers. Who cared for love? Most people married for titles and all the fancy trappings. Marriage was a contract, a business agreement—not a romance story.
They were parting, now—the dance was over. He bowed to her, his eyes on Selina as he kissed her hand. Selina blushed again, then turned and disappeared into the crowd. The Duke watched her go, his eyes wide. It was awful to watch.
Selina didn’t even need to marry. Upon her father’s death, she would be independently wealthy, with ten-thousand pounds a year! She could afford to wait for
silly things like love. Not to mention, her older brother doted upon her. He would happily let her live at the estate or their London townhouse for as long as she chose.
Leah, on the other hand—was three-and-twenty. If this didn’t work out, she’d be out on the market again. To be unmarried at four-and-twenty was nearly unheard of! This might be the best that she could hope for.
To become a spinster was out of the question. Leah shuddered.
As the music ended, Lady Selina curtsied to the Duke and smiled at him.
“I must say, Your Grace, this has been rather diverting,” she said. “I believe your bride-to-be is waiting for you.” She supposed that he’d wake up the next morning and realize that he’d made a mistake.
She looked in Leah’s direction. Her cousin was watching them closely, a look of rage on her face. The Duke of Gillingham looked at her, as though she’d slapped him.
He stepped toward her, taking her hand, leaning down to kiss it. His eyes were on hers.
“Until later, Lady Selina,” he said.
“Certainly, Your Grace,” she replied. She moved off, opening her fan, and waving it in front of her face as she walked toward the punch bowl.
It was a large silver bowl, and a male servant stood on the other side of the table with a ladle. He filled her a cup and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she murmured, taking a sip. It was cool and sweet, with only the slightest taste of champagne. She walked around the room, watching the goings on. It was certainly a small affair, and almost everyone seemed to know each other.
She saw Leah and the Duke, across the room. His Grace looked miserable, while Leah was smiling widely. Selina worried that he was trying to use her for an excuse to flee a loveless match.
She resolved, then and there, to stay away from him. After all, love and infatuation were two very different things. And Selina meant to remain free unless it was truly love.
She would protect her heart—and her fortune. Not that the Duke of Gillingham was interested in that.
The whole business left her unsettled. After all, a pronounced engagement was a done deal. Calling it off would be a scandal of epic proportions. She doubted sincerely that the Duke was enough of a renegade to call it off over a chance brush with fate.
She laughed to herself. Tomorrow, this would have all faded away, like a strange dream.
When she glanced over at him, the Duke was staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, feeling her cheeks heat up. In the pit of her belly, she felt a small rush. She was familiar with gentlemen looking at her like that. She’d never felt a response like this to it. She wanted it. She wanted him to look at her like that.
She turned away, walking out onto the terrace, to cool down and think as she sipped her punch, which was going straight to her head. Her cheeks warmed, and she had a light buzz.
No, it would never be. Not without hurting Leah, and Selina just couldn’t betray her cousin like that, whether Leah liked her or not. They were family.
She stared out at the garden, with little tealights all along the paths, then decided to go and find Aunt Georgiana. She finished her punch, then went to find her aunt.
“Aunt Georgiana?” she said, touching her aunt on the elbow.
“Darling! Are you having a good time?” she asked. Once again, Selina was reminded of her mother.
“Yes,” she said, fanning her face a little.
“Let me introduce you to Her Grace, the Dowager Duchess of Gillingham,” Aunt Georgiana said, turning back to the Dowager Duchess that she had been talking with.
“We’ve already had the pleasure,” the Dowager Duchess said.
Selina curtsied low. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Your Grace. Thank you for having me on such short notice,” Selina said. “If I’d known that I was going to be arriving in time for such an elegant party, I’d have brought something finer to wear.”
The Dowager Duchess raised an eyebrow. “Finer than that dress?” She laughed. “Well, I can’t have you upstaging me in my own home, now can I?”
Aunt Georgiana’s eyes widened. Selina wasn’t cowed by the Dowager Duchess —there were many of her ilk all over London and Paris. The trick was to become friends with all—whether they seemed disagreeable on a first meeting or not.
“Well, I have to try, Your Grace,” she replied boldly. “My own mother would never forgive me.”
“Have I met your mother?” the Dowager Duchess asked. She snapped open her fan—ostrich plumes, to match her headgear.
“I imagine so, Your Grace,” Selina replied. “Lord and Lady Quinton are often at St. James’s.”
“Your sister?” The Dowager Duchess turned to Aunt Georgiana. “Is the Lady Quinton?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Aunt Georgiana inclined her head, shooting Selina a look. Selina smiled back serenely at her aunt.
“I know your mother, My Lady,” the Dowager Duchess said, beaming. “She’s quite the fashion icon.”
“She would be pleased to hear you say that, Your Grace,” Selina replied, smiling. Her mother would have been ecstatic at the compliment.
“Why, why have your parents not come, as well?” The Dowager Duchess was glancing about, as if Selina’s parents were about to walk in.
“They’re in Paris, Your Grace.”
“Paris? At this time of year?” she fanned herself, shaking her head.
“My mother would say that Paris is best at any time of the year,” Selina said.
The Dowager Duchess laughed. “Such a delight, your mother. When you write to her next, do tell her that I send my regards.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Selina murmured.
The Dowager Duchess made her polite excuses and then bustled off to go and attend other guests. Aunt Georgiana looked at Selina, who smiled.
“Do you often name-drop your own mother?” she asked her.
“It never hurts to own up to your own blood,” Selina said, opening her fan. It was obvious that the Dowager Duchess was a bit of a battle-ax. Selina herself intended to be one of the same at that age.
The party felt as though it were dragging on. Jasper found himself in a discussion with his fiancée, his mother, and their neighbor, Lady Morton.
“I’ve made the acquaintance of your cousin, Lady Selina,” his mother said.
Jasper watched his fiancée’s face fall.
“She’s a very fashionable young lady,” his mother said, approvingly.
“Yes,” Lady Leah said, her features rearranging into polite disdain. “She’s always a favorite.”
“Indeed? I can see why,” his mother said.
“I’ve not made her acquaintance,” Lady Morton said. “Whose daughter is she?”
“Lord and Lady Quinton,” Lady Leah said. “Their estate is in Hertfordshire.”
“So close to London!” Lady Morton mused.
“Indeed,” Lady Leah said. “They’re often in the City.”
“Don’t you wish that you could be in London more often?” his mother asked, looking at him, pointedly.
“No, Mother,” he replied. “I do not.”
“Oh,” his mother exclaimed, stage-whispering to the other ladies. “He would never be in polite society if he could help it. He’d rather spend his day in the barn with the horses.”
He smiled, forbearing the comment. It was mostly true. Luckily, Stephen was coming their way. He bowed to the ladies.
“Lord Sandbourne!” Lady Morton said. “Have you made the acquaintance of Lady Selina?”
“I have,” Stephen said. “I find her to be a genial lady. Very kind. Very proper.” He nodded approvingly. Stephen rarely had anything bad to say about anyone.
Jasper glanced over at Lady Leah, who looked as though she’d sucked on a lemon. He looked at Stephen, who sidled up next to him. The ladies began to discuss other guests who were there.
“How are you holding up, there, old bean?” Stephen asked in a low voice.
Jasper sighed. “As well as can be expected,�
� he replied.
It was getting late. The candles in the hall were beginning to burn low. The room was quite warm. The last dance had just ended, and the few couples bowed and curtsied to one another. The musicians ended the tune with a flourish.
Sins of an Intoxicating Duchess: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 3