Duke Du Jour

by Petie McCarty

  “Are you all right?” Bullen asked. “You look a little pale of a sudden.”

  “I’m fine. My cravat is too tight, that’s all.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “You mean mine, too.”

  “Right.”

  Bullen actually laughed at his joke, and Jared got a nice warm feeling in his gut. He took off through the crowd, determined to get the next waltz with Ari, especially if he only got two chances. The room felt torturously hot, what with the hundred or more candles in each chandelier and all the bodies crammed in the ballroom to see and be seen.

  “I am getting quite a few glares from some of these country gentlemen,” he muttered to Bullen at his shoulder.

  “You probably chased after their daughter or their wife or picked a fight you expected me to finish.”

  Jared glared at his brother. “Very funny.”

  “Who was being funny?”

  Jared rolled his eyes at Bullen, then stopped walking so fast his brother smacked into him.

  Ari was only a few steps away, a portly gentleman with a well-receded hairline bent over her hand.

  “Lady Ariana.” The man snuffled on her knuckles. “So delightful to see you this evening and your marvelous buffet.” Her admirer glanced around. “Those horrid dogs are not out, are they?”

  Ari tried to tug her hand free, but Portly held fast.

  Jared took a step forward, but Bullen held him in place. “She can handle herself well.”

  “No, my lord, the dogs are locked in a spare bedchamber for the evening.”

  “Splendid. Did your chef happen to prepare some of those truffles I love so much?”

  “Yes, my lord, he did.”

  Portly grinned, baring yellowed teeth. “I knew you would have something prepared especially for me.” He gave her knuckles one more snuffle, and Ari slipped her hand free.

  “Why don’t you go try some truffles? Now,” she said and moved in the opposite direction of the dessert buffet set up along the far wall.

  “Who the hell was that, snuffling on Ari?” Jared asked Bullen. “I was afraid he would gobble her hand like a French pastry.”

  “Viscount Bonegred from Suffolk. He has been snuffling around Lady Ariana for the last couple years,” Bullen said, careful to keep his voice low.

  “Another suitor?”

  “It would appear so.”

  Before Jared could go after Ari, the Earl of Wakefield sidelined them. “Reston. Bullen. Good evening. Glad you could both attend.”

  “Good evening, Lord Wakefield,” Bullen said with a respectful bow. “I thank you for your invitation.”

  “You are welcome. I have several gentlemen here tonight who are in need of your equine expertise. They would like a few pointers on the purchase of prime goers at Tattersall’s.”

  “I would be happy to help them, my lord.”

  “You have got quite the crush here, Wakefield,” Jared said amiably.

  “Yes.” The earl did not appear happy about the affair though. He frowned and turned to Bullen. “Could you excuse us for a moment? I need a private word with Reston.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Bullen replied. “I cannot dance, so I will be in the card room if you need me,” he told Jared and moved off through the crowd.

  Wakefield steered Jared to an alcove on the far side of the room out of earshot of any guests. “You used to call me Albert,” he said without preamble.

  Expert now at dodging, Jared quickly said, “My apologies, sir. I have had some memory problems of late.”

  “Yes, yes, my daughter has filled me in,” Wakefield said, “on your problems.”

  Jared frowned. He did not care for Wakefield’s tone. “You do not agree?”

  A sallow-faced young man—maybe midtwenties—approached them. “Um…Lord Wakefield? Might I speak with you about Lady Ariana?”

  The earl scowled. “Not now, Simpson.”

  “Of course, my lord,” Simpson immediately acquiesced. “My apologies, my lord. Of course, I will go.” The young man slunk away.

  “Who was that?” Jared wanted to know.

  “Adderly Huxton, Baron Simpson. One of Ari’s many suitors,” Wakefield said smugly.

  “Him?”

  “Yes, him.” Wakefield’s scowl turned on Jared. “And speaking of suitors, why all your sudden attention to Ari? What are your intentions exactly?”

  “My inten—”

  Good question. Ari’s father had every right to ask. According to Bullen, the man had doted on his only child since his wife’s death from an unfortunate fall off her horse.

  “Well?”

  Jared stared at the older man. What could he say?

  Your daughter is delightful, and I adore spending time with her, but I am only visiting this century for a short while?

  No, the truth would cook his goose.

  “Albert,” he soothed, “we have been friends since Ari was a child. It is only natural she and I would spend time together.”

  Wrong thing to say, judging by the glower on the earl’s face.

  “You never paid attention to her unless you came here to dinner and were forced to do so. You were too busy chasing every skirt in Hampshire, so it is small wonder I am worried now that you’re chasing after Ariana. She has three acceptable suitors already wanting to offer for her and more in the wings, so I do not want you confusing her.”

  Jared gaped at his neighbor. “Acceptable to whom? You call Bonehead, Wimpson, and Dolt-on acceptable?”

  Wakefield stared blankly for a moment, then said very slowly, “No, Reston, you have got them all wrong. That is Bone-GRED, S-impson, and DALTon.”

  “Call them whatever you want. They are still not good enough for Ariana.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says me. And Ariana. Have you asked her if she finds them acceptable?”

  “She said she doesn’t want to marry anyone,” Wakefield growled.

  Jared wasn’t sure why that hurt, but it did. If she said she did not care for anyone, then she had lumped him in with the other three jackanapeses, and he didn’t like that at all.

  “She needs to marry, so she can have a family,” Wakefield persisted. “She loves children, and I want grandchildren before I die, so if your intentions are not leading in that direction, then stay the hell away from my daughter.”

  A neighbor called Wakefield over, and the earl stalked away without a backward glance or glare at Jared.

  His intentions were mostly honorable, he assured himself. Why, he had no intention of stealing Ari’s virginity and wedding-night future. For that, he should at least be granted her company while he was stuck here. Yet, Wakefield’s pronouncement bothered Jared no small amount. If he made it back to his century, Wakefield would consign beautiful, intelligent, witty Ariana in marriage to one of those inimitable bores, or in Dalton’s case, a bully.

  But what could he do? He could not afford to stay here and risk Seven showing up. And show up his loutish, skirt-chasing ancestor no doubt would. Hell, there was a damned portrait of him in Jared’s future gallery. He would love to know whom Seven had married, but the bounder had never left a journal, and Jared had no luck finding local historical records. At least he could warn Ari, so she knew what her father had planned. Then she could figure a way out of her predicament on her own.

  Scanning the crowd, he spotted Dexter with Ari near the terrace doors, and Jared’s hackles immediately rose on alert. He and the earl were even in height, but Dexter was rangy. Jared had twenty pounds on him—twenty fitness-center pounds. He could take the earl. No way could he allow that rake to seduce sweet Ari.

  She would be a dove in hawk’s talons. He ignored the stab of guilt that reminded him he had dallied across the whole of England prior to his unfortunate engagement to Eddy. Jared was not one to go about casting pebbles, let alone stones.

  For an instant, he and Ari locked gazes again. She did not look happy to see him, and that worried him no small amount. He must get to her and smooth th
ings over. He had thought her pique—over his not taking his accidents seriously—was because she cared about him. Maybe his mistake was not taking her seriously. He had better change his attitude bloody fast.

  The crush of guests squeezed in around him as though all invited were intent on keeping him from Ari’s side. He could barely keep her blonde curls in sight as he zigged and zagged through the crowd. When he reached the opening near the terrace doors, she was gone.

  Jared grabbed onto the first person he could reach. “Did you see where Lady Ariana went?” he asked, as he spun the gentleman around.

  Viscount Wimpson glared back.

  Jared refused to let go. “Well?”

  “I don’t know. I was looking for her myself,” Wimpson said, his chin tilting up with a smidgen of bravado.

  “If I catch you within a stone’s throw of Lady Ariana, I’ll box your ears.” He jerked Wimpson’s arm hard for punctuation, and the man’s eyes went wide.

  Jared released him and slipped outside, thankful the mollycoddle did not try to follow. A few couples strolled the length of the slate terrace, Ari not among them. The expansive gardens beyond the terrace lay cloaked in shadows. Though torches were spaced along the paths near the terrace, the lighting in the rear gardens was considerably diminished and perfect for assignations. That thought had Jared clenching his teeth.

  He hustled down the path checking each bench and arbor as he went, then halted near a torch to peer at a gazebo set back from the path and draped in shadows. He listened for voices, unwilling to interrupt another guest’s liaison. No sound came from the gazebo. He took a step forward and felt a small hand on his arm.

  Ari.

  His face broke into a smile as he turned, only to stare down into the upturned face of Lucilla Tartley.

  “I have finally caught you alone, my darling,” she said, her tone decidedly sultry.

  “My darling?”

  Her answering smile reminded Jared of the Haverly stable cat when she caught a wayward mouse beneath her paw.

  “I always call you that when we’re alone.” She slid her hands inside his jacket and flattened both palms on his chest.

  “And we were frequently alone?”

  Her full lips formed a discontented moue. “I thought you were teasing me the other day when you acted as though you had forgotten me.”

  Bullen was right. This one might be dangerous.

  Jared took her by the shoulders and pressed her back. “I may not remember you from before, but I remember exactly how you treated my brother when we arrived tonight. I didn’t care for your insults.”

  “But he is a bastard,” she protested, “and a servant to boot.”

  “He is still my brother,” Jared growled.

  “All right, darling,” she soothed and slid her hands around to his back. “I will be kinder to him.”

  “Good.”

  Her hands were beginning to wander, and he distinctly recalled her octopus impersonation. He would need to remain sharp.

  “Let’s go in the gazebo where it’s quiet and dark,” she purred. “I can jog your memory about how good we were together.”

  He caught her wrists as they drifted to his trousers. Bloody hell, she was a brazen bit of baggage.

  “When I couldn’t find you, I feared you had gone to give Wakefield’s spinster daughter a pity dance.”

  He jerked on her wrists. “Why do you say that? She has plenty of suitors.”

  “Suitors her father could only corral with a large dowry. Little Ariana needs all the help she can get. You always said so yourself.”

  Jared heard a crackle in the row of shrubs behind them, and Lucilla took full advantage of his momentary lapse in focus to wrap her tentacles about his nape and pull him into a full open-mouthed kiss, with surprising strength for a woman her size. Another crackle sounded in the shrubs, closer this time, and he managed to pull free.

  “Lady Wilder, I prefer my women to be a bit more reserved and not be the pursuer.”

  She laughed and tugged on his neck. “No, you don’t. You always said you preferred my experience and zest to the naïveté of the debutantes attending London or country balls, especially like your little country bumpkin neighbor. You even laugh at the way Ariana blushes when someone asks her to dance. You only ask her to dance just to watch her cheeks turn as pink as her father’s prized roses.”

  A gasp echoed from the shrubs accompanied by more crackling of twigs and branches, followed by footfalls on the garden path. Jared pushed through the shrubs in time to see Ariana disappear at the bend in the path.

  “Bollocks!”

  He started after Ari, and Lucilla caught his arm.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Ariana heard us. I have to go after her and explain.”

  “No! You don’t care about her. You never have.”

  “Let go of me.”

  “If you chase after that little ninny, you can forget about warming my bed ever again,” she threatened.

  “A situation I am certain I will learn to live with.”

  He turned to go, and she latched on again.

  “No! I want you, Jared.”

  He tossed her hand aside. “Lady Wilder! In the words of my time, take a hike!”

  He started down the path after Ari, and Lucilla stumbled along in his wake, holding up her gown hem in one hand and grabbing for him with the other.

  “Take a hike? What does that mean?”

  He thought for a moment and searched his brain for the Regency vernacular. “I believe it is called your congé.”

  She gasped and stilled in the middle of the path.

  Thank God! I got that one right.

  “How dare you!” she shrilled. “I serviced you for years.”

  He looked back. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “You will pay for this!” she shrieked after him.

  Jared stopped dead in his pursuit and watched Ari racing away, then glanced back. “Thanks to you, I already have.”

  “Oooh!” Lucilla huffed back in the direction of the manse, and Jared sprinted into the shadowed rear gardens.

  Chapter Ten

  “Good evening, Lady Ariana.” Lord Dexter sidled over to the terrace doors where she had gone to seek some much cooler air and escape Lord Bonegred’s snuffling. “My apologies for being a bit late, but it appears you have quite a successful crush here tonight.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. Dexter was so incredibly handsome. He just wasn’t—

  She refused to think of that rogue now. “Lord Dexter, there is always a crush at our country balls. We have few of them out here in Hampshire, so very far from Town and your nightly whirl of events.”

  “Too true that. You look stunning,” he said gently and took her hand in his.

  Ari stared at his bowed head and waited for the slightest flutter at the whisper-light kiss he brushed across her knuckles.

  Nothing.

  What was wrong with her? One of the most handsome bachelors in all of England and she felt nothing at his touch. Yet, Jared just sitting next to her in his curricle made her blood race and her cheeks flush. She had promised herself she would not be fooled by that blackguard again. Except he had not acted like a blackguard since his return from the continent—if she ignored the little tussle with her nemesis Lucilla that first day. Plus, he had sent Lucilla on her way right after Ari left.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Dexter was saying.

  She stared up into his deep blue eyes. This man deserved another look. Dexter and she had no unhappy history—only the present and the future.

  “I was thinking what a wonderful party this turned out to be and what a beautiful night this is.”

  He gave her the slow devilish smile that undoubtedly worked its magic on dozens of women. “Right on both counts. I very much enjoyed our carriage ride two days ago. Maybe you would grace me with a stroll through the garden this evening.”

  Ariana turned back toward the crowd and found Jared
staring at her from across the room. She could feel the heat flush her cheeks, and she resented the ease with which he accomplished that feat from across the ballroom. Maybe she would take a turn in the garden—with Dexter.

  “I have a few more late guests to greet, and then I would love a stroll and some fresh air.”

  “Splendid. I will come find you,” Dexter said, careful to keep his voice low so no one heard, and he strode out the terrace doors.

  Ariana greeted a few more late-arriving neighbors, and then the musicians struck up a waltz. She could see Jared trying to make his way across the ballroom. The memory of her first waltz with him struck her hard. No way would she play the fool twice.

  She strode through the doors and out onto the terrace. Waiting a few moments to let her eyes focus after the brilliantly lit ballroom, she moved to the end of the terrace and eased around a strolling couple. Down a short set of steps, she reached the edge of the garden and halted. Now what?

  “I am at your service, my lady,” Dexter said and held out his arm. “Ready to take our turn through the garden?”

  She eyed the proffered arm, suddenly uncertain.

  “We will not be out of the torch-lit area aligning the terrace. All very proper, I assure you.”

  She sighed. Well, why not? Lord Dexter was no worse than the other suitors her father had on his dreaded list of prospects.

  Dexter’s face relaxed into a slow, sensual smile.

  Oh my.

  Did he realize his smile appeared sensuous, or was that his normal smile? His imperious earl brow arched, and she smiled back, reaching for his arm. Her fingers warily touched the superfine of his jacket, expecting the heated spark she always experienced when taking Jared’s arm.

  Hmm. Nothing at all.

  Dexter guided her carefully down the closest garden path. She relaxed and breathed deep of the chilled night air.

  “This feels wonderful after the heat from the crush in the ballroom.”

  “I must admit to being a bit surprised by the sheer number of guests this evening.”

  “I daresay my father invited every unmarried male in the entire county.” She chuckled. “And their families.”