“Miss Longmore,” Miss Dodger said. “I suspected you weren’t being quite truthful the night we met. Fortunately for you, I’m not one to judge, although I do hope you’ll share your tale with me at some point.”
“I fear it’s rather dull,” she assured her.
“Oh, I very much doubt that.” Miss Dodger then turned to Harry. “Mr. Longmore, I’ve looked forward to making your acquaintance. My father once owned this establishment so I’m very familiar with it. I hope you will grant me the pleasure of giving you a tour.”
Harry blinked, seemed too stunned to speak, and Rose suddenly regretted that there had been no marriageable women to lavish attention on him during his short life.
“Harry, you always say yes when a young lady offers you anything,” Avendale explained.
Blushing, Harry visibly swallowed. “I would be most delighted, Miss Dodger.”
“Excellent, but you must call me Minerva as I suspect we’re going to become fast friends before the evening is done.” She wrapped her hand around the crook of his arm. “I’m going to introduce you to some rapscallions who will no doubt attempt to lure you into a private card game. Play at your own peril.”
Rose watched as the young woman led Harry away, chattering as she went. Her brother already seemed a bit smitten. “You have remarkable friends, Your Grace.”
“I only told Harry they were mine to put him at ease. The people here tonight are more my mother’s doing.”
Surprised by his words, she turned to him. “You’ve spoken with her?”
“Faced the past, more like. I’ll tell you about it later. Presently, I believe I shall introduce you to her.”
Rose looked over to see Sir William approaching with a diminutive woman at his side. Although her hair was more faded than in the portraits, Rose recognized her. She possessed an elegance and refinement that Rose could never capture no matter how many hours she spent practicing in front of a mirror. Dear God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d given any thought to being something she wasn’t.
Avendale hugged his mother, before straightening and bringing Rose into the cozy circle. “Mother, I’d like to introduce Miss Longmore.”
“It is a pleasure, Miss Longmore.”
“Your Grace, please call me Rose,” she said with a curtsy.
“It’s been a good many years since I’ve been a duchess. Lady Winifred will suffice quite nicely. I appreciate that you have given purpose to my son’s life.”
“I’d hardly say that although he has been most kind regarding my brother’s situation.”
“Life can be so unfair and we are often given not what we deserve.”
“I understand that you are responsible for the kind people here this evening.”
“Oh bosh. Don’t make more of my efforts than they were. I merely extended invitations.”
“In person,” Avendale said.
“Well, yes. I’ve discovered it’s more difficult for people to refuse a request when looking in your eyes.”
“Which is how she has managed to raise an abundance of money for so many charities,” Sir William said, pride evident in his voice.
She patted her husband’s arm before returning her attention to Rose. “We must finish making the rounds. We look forward to making your brother’s acquaintance. Although rest assured that Minerva shall ensure he has a jolly good time. I do not understand why the girl is not yet spoken for. Young men these days, sometimes they can be quite blind.”
“Forgive my wife,” Sir William said. “She also likes to play matchmaker.”
“Only because the right match is crucial to happiness.”
“Be sure to point your Cupid’s arrow elsewhere,” Avendale said.
His mother rose up, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and murmured in a low voice, “Only if you open your eyes, darling.” Then she winked at Rose. “A pleasure, my dear. You must join us for dinner sometime. I would so love for you to meet my other children. They were desperate to come tonight, but they are still far too young for a night such as this filled with such scandalous amusements.”
“Thank you, my lady. I would like to meet them.” Although in truth, she knew if the woman understood Rose’s role in her son’s life as well as her past, she would be appalled by the notion of entertaining Rose in her home and introducing her to impressionable children.
As Sir William and his lady wandered away, Rose could not help but think they were a perfect match. “I like your mother,” she said.
“She is to be admired, except when she is trying to tend to my heart.”
“She loves you, wants you to be happy. That’s probably what most mothers want for their children. I didn’t get to experience it firsthand. You shouldn’t take it for granted.”
“I won’t, not again, but that doesn’t mean I want her meddling.”
“She’ll find you a proper wife.”
He swung his gaze to Rose. “I’m not certain I’m suited to a proper wife.”
“But you are thinking you want a wife.” In spite of his claims not to want a proper wife, she also knew she was too improper to fill that place in his life.
“I’m thinking I want a drink. Let’s see what we can find, shall we?”
But she was bothered by the conversation, the possible implications, needed to remind herself as much as him of her place. “You used my real name.”
He’d taken two steps, stopped and looked back at her. “Pardon?”
“When you introduced me tonight it was as Miss Rosalind Longmore.”
“I’m weary of the lies, the deceptions, all the blasted secrets that do nothing except cause misunderstandings and put distance between people.” He stepped back to her. “Does Miss Rosalind Longmore have a bounty on her head?”
She didn’t hesitate. “No.” But Mrs. Rosalind Pointer did. As did Mrs. Rosalind Black.
“Then why the concern?”
“Habit, I suppose. I simply never use my real name.”
“Then it’s high time you did. Come now, let’s find a drink, and then I want to introduce you around.”
Rose began to get dizzy, overwhelmed as the introductions continued: the Earl and Countess of Claybourne, the Duke and Duchess of Greystone, Sir James and Lady Emma, Jack Dodger and Olivia. Throughout the night, she met some of their children although she wasn’t altogether certain that, if she were pressed to do it, she could have sorted them all into their proper families.
She was grateful to have a quiet moment in the balcony to catch her breath, to look down on the gaming floor and see her brother tossing dice. Those surrounding him cheered, Jack Dodger slapped him on his back. Harry’s joyous laughter rang out, reached her where she stood, curled through her, warmed her.
“I’m not certain he’s ever been so accepted,” she said.
“He was always accepted by you.”
She peered up at Avendale as much as she was able with his arms circling her, her back to his chest. “That’s different. He’s my brother.”
“It would make little difference to some.”
She didn’t think she was so very special. Those who took the time to get to know Harry fell in love with him. How could they not when his was such a generous heart?
“I am torn between being at his side tonight and giving him a chance to spend the evening in the company of others.”
“Let him enjoy the others for a while. Come dance with me.”
She might have considered his request selfish if she weren’t acutely aware that for almost a fortnight he’d been settling for scraps of her attention and time. “I would like that very much, but first . . .”
Turning in his arms, she rose up on her toes and kissed him, welcomed his drawing her nearer. She almost told him that she loved him, but she doubted he would welcome the sentiment. There was also the chance that he wou
ldn’t believe her, that he would believe she felt obligated to voice the words because of all that he’d done. In a way all that he had done was responsible for her feelings—but only because they served as evidence of his kindness and generosity. Both of which she was discovering knew no bounds.
She had sought to take advantage of him, only to find herself falling madly in love with him.
Harry was overwhelmed by the night, the people, the games of chance, the astounding luck he seemed to have with them. Everyone was so kind, but it was all too much. He had met two young ladies who looked exactly alike. He couldn’t remember their first names now, only their last: Swindler. Their father was an inspector with Scotland Yard, and for a moment he’d worried about Rose, but then he’d seen her strolling with her duke, and he’d known nothing would happen to her.
Still, he’d told the two ladies that he would like a moment with her, so they’d been kind enough to escort him to the ballroom. Only a few couples were dancing in the magnificent room with the gorgeous crystal chandeliers and the orchestra playing in the balcony.
Rose and her duke were on the dance floor waltzing. Harry knew the dance because Rose had once circled a room with him, shown him the steps when he was still able to walk without the cane, before he was so easily thrown off balance. Now he simply enjoyed watching the grace of her movements, the joy reflected on her face as the duke held her close. She was happy, and Rose deserved that so much.
And that made him happy. Happier than he’d ever been.
“Mr. Longmore.”
His name was a soft, slow purr. Turning slightly, he saw the most beautiful woman he’d ever set eyes on. Her hair was woven from moonbeams, her eyes were sparkling sapphires. She was tall, but composed of curves. He felt the heat warm his face because he noticed the dips and swells. The duke wouldn’t grow warm like this. The duke would merely look until he was content. No, his friend would take her to the shadows and hold her, kiss her. Harry wanted to do the same. He was embarrassed, ashamed that he would have such a thought. She would no doubt scream if he got too close.
She smiled, joy wreathing her face as she met and held his gaze. “I’ve been searching some time for you.”
“Have you?” he croaked, wondering what had happened to his voice to make it go so deep, so rough.
“Indeed I have. I’m Aphrodite.”
He wasn’t surprised she was named for a goddess. He envisioned her in a diaphanous gown, the wind swirling around only her as though the rest of the world didn’t require gentle breezes. She was worthy of poetry, and words began flittering through his mind.
“Will you dance with me?” she asked.
The poetic words, all thought stopped. He wanted what she asked for more than he wanted to breathe, but no choice remained except to shake his head with regret. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I might lose my balance.” And the wonderful night would be ruined as everyone witnessed his clumsiness at its worse. He would no longer be able to pretend he wasn’t a great oaf.
“I’m extremely skilled at ensuring men don’t lose their balance.” She moved in, placed one delicate hand lightly on his shoulder, another on his arm, on his hideous arm, but she appeared not at all revolted. “We don’t have to follow the music. We can just sway if you like.”
He liked it very much, liked her nearness. She smelled of oranges.
“Are you a friend of the duke?” he asked.
“Sometimes. But tonight I’m your friend.”
Harry was relatively certain it was because the duke had asked her to be. The duke had answered a good many of Harry’s questions regarding women, but each discovery led to another question until he felt as though he were being swallowed in a vortex where a thousand queries swirled, waiting for him to pluck out the next. The duke had assured him that if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never uncover all the answers.
“Women are a mystery, my friend, which only serves to make us want them all the more,” the duke had said.
At long last, while swaying extremely slowly with this woman incredibly near, her breasts brushing against his chest, her long, slender legs in danger of becoming entangled with his, Harry finally understood what the duke had been striving to teach him. That no one question, no one answer applied to every woman. Each woman was unique, each provided a very different experience. He knew so little about Aphrodite, but he discovered he wanted to know everything, but already he knew that a lifetime wouldn’t provide all the answers.
But there were certainly adventures to be had in trying to uncover them.
Dancing with Avendale was different from when she’d danced with him the first night when they’d met. She was as aware of him, but she wasn’t frightened that he would discover her secrets, that he had the power to ruin all her plans. Before he’d been an enigma, a curiosity, a possible means to an end. She had wanted to use him.
Now she wished there had never been any deception between them, no bargains struck. She wished that she had trusted him sooner, that they had come to where they were through mutual wants. On the other hand, she was pragmatic enough to realize that she would never be more than an ornament in his life.
While those closest to him might have been bold enough to cast societal rules aside and marry those not of their class, Avendale would want nothing to do with her if he understood the full extent of her deceptions and swindles. Oh, he might still want her plump breasts and sweet thighs, he might still yearn to skim his hands over every inch of her flesh, he might still desire her body cradled beneath his, but he wouldn’t want her for a wife. He would tire of her eventually.
And she would tire of the life he provided. Not that she didn’t appreciate all the comforts, but her daily routine would offer no challenges—just pleasing him, doing whatever he wanted, even if what he desired was exactly what she wished to bestow. She would grow bored without her plotting and conniving.
When the time came for them to part all she would have were the memories. The wonderful, glorious, marvelous memories. The way his eyes never strayed from hers as they waltzed. The slight smile that promised another sort of waltz later in the night, in his bed, where the music would be a crescendo of their moans, sighs, and cries.
Oh, she was going to miss him. While she knew it could be years before that came to pass, she could not help but believe that their parting was going to come much too soon.
He circled her around the floor, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Harry in a beauty’s arms. Dancing—at least as much as he was able. Her heart tightened, swelled at the pleasure written on his face, and yet she worried that the woman might ask more of him than he could deliver.
“Who is that woman dancing with Harry?” she asked.
Avendale didn’t even bother to look to the side, so she knew he must have been aware of their presence. For how long? she wondered.
“Her name is Aphrodite.”
“Truly?”
He shrugged. “Probably not. Just as you are not Mrs. Sharpe. People change their names for all sorts of reasons, so I wouldn’t judge her too harshly if I were you.”
“I’m not judging her, but I do want to ensure she doesn’t take advantage of Harry.”
“Oh, I suspect he wouldn’t mind if she did.”
“Is she the sort who would?”
“With the proper incentive.”
“Which you no doubt provided. Is she one of the charities you’ve given to over the years?” She despised the jealousy that rifled through her voice.
He gave her an understanding smile and that irritated her even more. “She is one of the women with whom I grew bored, even though she is remarkably talented and quite free with her affections.”
In his voice, his tone, she heard no lingering desire for this Aphrodite. He might as well be explaining how a gentleman put on his trousers. Still, she had come to understand his relat
ionship with her brother well enough to know the incentive behind the woman’s appearance. “You brought her here to entertain Harry.”
“He’s a man, Rose. We talked about a good many things late at night in my library. He’s curious about women. It seemed a sin for his curiosity not to be sated.” He pinned her with a daring stare. “You said you trusted me.”
“I do. I’m just not certain if I can trust her.”
“She has a heart of gold.”
As she glanced over, she saw that Harry had stopped dancing, that he and the woman were leaving the ballroom, arm in arm. “What if she hurts him?”
“What if the building crumbles in on top of us?”
She jerked her gaze back to Avendale. He gave her a gentle smile, one she’d never seen, one that captured her heart, squeezed it. “You can’t always protect him, sweetheart. Let him be a man tonight, enjoy the pleasures found in the company of a willing woman.”
“It hurts so to grow up.”
“I know. I spent years of my life trying not to. But for all its pain, there are rewards aplenty.”
Reaching up, she cupped his jaw, feathered her fingers through his hair. Sometimes she wished she hadn’t grown up at such a young age, been forced to run off and survive by any means possible, but then if she hadn’t, she might have never met him. There would have always been something missing in her life. She would have felt its absence without truly understanding what it was. This man had taught her what it was to share a goal with someone, to work together, to have a common bond. “Where my brother is concerned, you think of so many things that he might want or need that never occurred to me.”
“He’s your baby brother. You would protect him with your dying breath. For me, he’s a reminder of youth, how fleeting it is, often filled with unfortunate choices and yet some of them provide us with the best memories. And he’s someone with whom I can share all the wicked things I’ve done through the years. He’s replaced Lovingdon as my partner in debauchery.”
“You’ve proven my point,” she said. “Do you know how much it would please him to know that you hold him in such esteem? It would make him feel ever so manly, ever so accepted.”
The Duke and the Lady in Red Page 27