“I’m not.” Taking Gillie’s hand again, he tucked it into the crook of his arm. “Come. My mother is looking forward to seeing you again, Aslyn, and meeting two new members to your family.”
If the woman standing not too far away as rigidly as possible was his mother, then Gillie doubted the duchess looked forward to anything in her life. She stood there as though she were the model for the carving of a bust for the prow of a ship, a figurehead that would no doubt send the most dastardly pirates sailing in the opposite direction. Thorne folded his fingers over Gillie’s where they still rested in the crook of his elbow, offering her reassurance, which she didn’t need. She’d dealt with those stern disapproving looks her entire life, and knew the best way to deal with them was to offer the mere hint of a smile, as though she harbored a delicious secret the other would die to know.
The duchess eyed her critically, somewhat suspiciously, before turning her attention elsewhere. “Lady Aslyn.”
“Your Grace,” Aslyn said sweetly, with a deep and graceful curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to see you looking so well.”
“It’s kind of you to say so.” She clutched her fingers in front of her. “This must be your husband.”
“Yes. Allow me to introduce Mick Trewlove.”
She angled her nose haughtily as though she smelled something unsavory. “Mr. Trewlove.”
He bowed his head slightly. “It’s a pleasure, Your Grace.” He didn’t reach for her hand, no doubt because he wasn’t certain she could unknot those tightly coiled fingers.
“Mother, I’d like to introduce Miss Gillian Trewlove,” Thorne stated formally.
It seemed to take years for the woman to finally turn her head back to Gillie. “Miss Trewlove.”
For all of the welcome in her tone the duchess might have just been introduced to horse dung.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Your Grace,” Gillie said as politely as possible when she dearly wanted to smack the woman for not extending that plump little hand to her brother.
With a sniff, the duchess pursed her lips. “I realize you are no doubt unfamiliar with such regal affairs, but you are to curtsy before me.”
“Mother—”
Gillie heard the displeasure in his voice, the warning, and squeezed his arm where she still held it before he could continue. She’d never needed anyone to stand up for her, didn’t need it now. She’d practiced for hours to master the proper amount of dipping, lowering of her eyes, humbling expression. The queen of England wouldn’t have found fault with her effort were she to see it.
“I don’t bow,” Gillie said quietly, gently, but with enough steel in her voice to mark it as an unarguable matter.
The Duchess of Thornley merely blinked as though she’d quite suddenly lost her bearings. “I beg your pardon?”
“I don’t bow before someone without knowing if they are worthy of such an honor. Lady Aslyn knows you and felt you worthy of receiving her curtsy. Perhaps when we are better acquainted, I shall feel the same.”
“I am a duchess.”
“I’m a tavern owner. I suspect we’re both accustomed to ordering people about.”
“Why, you impertinent little—”
“Mother, I would watch your tongue if I were you,” Thorne said sharply, but quietly so that no one nearby would hear. “Do remember I control your allowance.”
With a deep breath, no doubt needed for calming, she glared at her son. “And you remember your duty.”
“Always. Now if you’ll excuse us, I intend to have a waltz with Miss Trewlove.”
“And every marriageable lady here.”
As though Gillie didn’t fall into that category, which of course, she didn’t. She wasn’t going to hand everything she’d worked so hard to attain over to a man—and English law, which had never done her or her siblings any favors, would make her as little more than chattel, giving the single property she owned over to her husband. She wasn’t going to allow a man to determine her allowance or anything else about her. She wanted a relationship of equal terms, which meant one that existed outside the bonds of marriage. Perhaps the woman who had given birth to her had felt the same, perhaps she’d been strong minded, strong willed and willing to face whatever consequences befell her. Gillie couldn’t help but wonder what her portrait might have looked like.
Thorne led her to the edge of the polished dance floor where couples circled about with abandon. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I simply couldn’t give her the satisfaction of a curtsy, not when she was looking down her nose at Mick like that.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
She jerked her head around to find him looking at her, a tenderness in his eyes. Lifting a gloved hand, he lightly touched his fingertips to her cheek. “She was abominable. Had I known her good breeding was to be left in her bedchamber, I’d have not exposed you to her. But you handled her admirably.”
“I didn’t find it much different than handling a drunkard. Never give any quarter.”
His laughter rang out around them. People nearby turned their attention to them; even some of the dancing couples cast a look their way. “She would be appalled to be compared to someone well into his cups.”
Gillie shrugged her shoulders. “All sorts come into a tavern. Some bring their troubles, some their joys. Some their obstinacy. I learned fairly quickly I could never back down from whatever they brought with them. Your mum isn’t a happy woman.”
“She is happiest when she is unhappy.”
“What a sad way to live.”
“I quite agree. What have you done with your hair?”
She did wish he’d taken his abrupt change in conversation in another direction. Rolling her eyes, she confessed, “It’s a false piece. Fancy’s idea. I feel like it’s going to fall off at any moment and the hounds will rush in, thinking it’s a fox.”
“No hounds here. At my estate, however, we have an abundance. I’m hoping you’ll change your mind and join me there sometime.”
“Is it as posh as all this?”
“Posher.” The music grew silent. He offered his arm. “Ready for our waltz?”
“More than ready.” Placing her hand on his, she could hardly believe she was actually going to dance with him. She fought to ignore the stares, the whispers. There just seemed to be so many of them, people wondering who she was, why she was with him. “Why did you invite me?” she asked as they reached the very center of the dance floor.
“Too many reasons to count,” he said as the strains for the song began and he took her into his arms, sweeping her over the polished wood.
She thought if she hadn’t practiced endlessly with Mick as her partner that she still would have been able to waltz with Thorne, without stepping on his feet or making a misstep. It was as though every aspect of her body was in tune with his, as though she could have followed him to the ends of the earth without tripping once.
“You’re not quite comfortable here,” he said solemnly.
“It’s not you,” she assured him. “It’s the gown. So much exposed skin.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, but people are staring and they can see so much of me . . . I’m not used to it.”
“They are no doubt staring because they’ve never seen such beauty. However . . .” He came to an abrupt halt, released her, and shrugged out of his jacket.
“What are you doing?” she asked, stunned as he began working her arm into one of the sleeves.
“I don’t care about your hair, Gillie. Whether it’s short or long, it matters not to me.” He draped the jacket around her and eased her other arm into place. Tugging the lapels, he held her gaze. “I don’t care what you wear. You could be dressed in a shroud for all the difference it would make to me. You’re not comfortable with so much skin on display? Then we won’t let it be on display.” He slipped one hand beneath the jacket, positioned it on her back, took her other hand, and led her back into the waltz.
“People a
re staring even more now,” she told him.
“I couldn’t care less. Are you more comfortable being covered?”
She hated admitting to a weakness. “Yes.”
“There you are then. I am more comfortable as well. And since we missed a few steps this round, we shall have to take a turn about the floor during the next dance as well.”
She did wish he hadn’t been so thoughtful, hadn’t noticed her discomfort and then taken matters in hand to make her feel more at ease. His actions did strange things to her heart, made it squeeze so tightly it caused a prickling in her eyes. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure, princess. Seeing to you is always my pleasure.”
Chapter 23
He suspected that on the far side of the ballroom someone was handing his mother her smelling salts. That he might have looked ridiculous dancing with a woman who was wearing an evening jacket mattered not at all. The only thing that mattered was Gillie.
He’d been a selfish bastard to prod her into coming, yet he’d wanted to dance with her, and the thought of an evening without her in it was so deuced disagreeable. When had it happened that it was pure torment to go so much as a day without seeing her?
And he wanted to show her off, introduce her around. If she were any other lady, people would see him talking with her at balls, dinners, and recitals. They would see him promenading her through the park or taking her on a carriage ride. But everything with her was new, exciting, and so very different from anything he’d had before.
“I do like the gown, however,” he felt compelled to tell her. “The color suits you.”
“I had to put on a thousand undergarments to make everything fit and fall properly. Being a lady is a lot of work.”
“I appreciate you went to the effort.”
“I appreciate you covered it up.”
“But in my mind I can still see every glorious inch. The gown is quite provocative. Makes me want to trail my mouth where cloth meets skin.”
Her cheeks turned a soft pink that hinted at a blush. “Shouldn’t gents have to show their skin as well?”
He raised his eyebrows. “That would be interesting, wouldn’t it? Although I don’t think we look quite so enticing when bits of us are showing.”
She glanced around. Fewer people were paying them attention, and he hoped by the time they finished their second dance, she might be comfortable enough to hand back over his jacket. While he didn’t care what she wore, he couldn’t deny that he very much did appreciate the way the gown molded to her torso, the way it displayed her bare shoulders and neck.
“If I lived in a house such as this one, I think I would forever worry about knocking things over and breaking them,” she said.
“You grow accustomed to where things are. I could probably walk through the residence in my sleep without bumping into anything.”
“I saw armor in the front hallway.”
He nodded. “It belonged to the first duke. Of course, he wasn’t a duke until he wore that armor and fought for a king—quite spectacularly if legend is to be believed.”
“You know all your ancestors,” she said in awe.
“Not the ones before him, which I’ve always found to be a shame. I suspect they were the most interesting of the lot.”
“And your mum’s family? You know it as well?”
He’d never referred to his mother as Mum, which he viewed as a warmer, more intimate address. He found it interesting that Gillie didn’t hesitate to use the term, but then, based on the little bit he knew about the woman who had raised her, he suspected she was a good deal more demonstrative with her affections. “Back generations. Her father was an earl. Her brother now holds the title.”
“Is he here?”
“No.” Thorne wasn’t about to marry one of his cousins, so his uncle hadn’t bothered to leave the country for the ball his mother had insisted upon hosting in the off-Season. “I suspect he’s well ensconced in grouse hunting by now.”
The music drifted into silence. He wished he could claim a third dance, but people would really be staring at her then, and speculation about her would begin making the rounds. He was rather certain it was already, but he had no desire to taint her reputation, and giving her too much attention would certainly accomplish that. “It is with a great deal of regret that I must see to my other guests,” he said. “I’ll escort you to your brother.”
“You’ll want your jacket. It wouldn’t be proper to greet them without it.”
“I can jaunt upstairs and fetch another.”
She smiled, such a sweet endearing smile that he wished he could order everyone to leave so he could spend time only in her company. “I can fetch my wrap if I start to get those chills again.”
He assisted her with removing his jacket, then shrugged into it. She straightened his lapels, such an intimate, personal act, one that made him wish she could do it every morning of his life.
“You’re such a handsome devil,” she said.
“Know that if the ladies are looking at you, they are doing so with envy as none wear a gown as well as you do. If the gents are looking at you, know they are doing so with longing. Be certain they don’t hold you too close while waltzing or I may have to challenge them to a duel to protect your honor.”
“I can see to my own honor, thank you.”
“I’ve no doubt of that, but it doesn’t mean you should have to.” Offering his arm, he walked her over to the edge of the dance floor, where her brother waited. Mick Trewlove was an intimidating fellow. Even if Thorne hadn’t spotted him, he’d have felt his gaze burrowing into him. When they reached him, Thorne took Gillie’s hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, reluctant to leave her. “I’d like to claim the last dance.”
Nodding, she wrote his name on her dance card. With that, he turned on his heel to see to his duty.
It was with a bit of regret that Gillie watched him walk away. Based upon the number of dances listed on her card, it would be a while before she spoke with him again.
“You seem quite comfortable with him. Is he courting you?” Mick asked.
“Don’t be daft.” During all the hours he’d instructed her in waltzing, he’d kept his opinions to himself, hadn’t interrogated her to determine why she would be invited to a duchess’s ball. “Although he was the man who got into your carriage—”
“I’d deduced that much, thank you very much. Have you been seeing him since?”
“It’s complicated.”
“I won’t stand for him taking advantage.”
“I won’t stand for that myself. Where the deuce is your wife?”
He chuckled low, knowing full well she was seeking to change the subject. “Visiting with those she knows. We’re supposed to search for her now that your dance is done.”
Only they didn’t have to search for her because not even a half minute later they spied her coming in their direction, a gentleman walking beside her. Gillie was aware of her brother stiffening, no doubt with jealousy because another man was in close proximity to his wife. “It won’t do any of us any favors if you plant your fist in his face,” she told him.
“The thought never crossed my mind.”
“Liar.” She smiled as they approached, and the gentleman—the top of his head didn’t even come to her shoulder—blushed.
When near enough, Aslyn immediately placed her hand on Mick’s arm, no doubt also aware of the tension radiating through him. “Lord Mitford was in want of an introduction.” Elegantly, she turned to the man beside her. “My lord, allow me the honor of introducing my husband, Mick Trewlove, and his sister, Miss Gillian Trewlove. The Earl of Mitford.”
“My pleasure,” the earl said. “I have always found our affairs far too restricted and am always intrigued when I meet someone not born into our ranks. I am familiar with your success, Mr. Trewlove. Well done, I say.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Mick said, although he didn’t sound particularly grateful by the praise. “My sister is a suc
cess in her own right.”
“Indeed.” He turned to her. The smile that wreathed his face made his otherwise bland features more interesting. She took an immediate liking to him. “How might you have achieved your success, Miss Trewlove?”
“By hard work.”
He laughed. “I daresay I stepped into it with my thoughtless question. In what endeavor, might I ask?”
“I own a tavern.”
“How intriguing. I don’t suppose you’d be kind enough to honor me with the next dance.”
“I’d be delighted.”
“Splendid. Shall we?” He began to offer his arm, stopped, looked at Mick. “If that is agreeable to your brother.”
“Gillie doesn’t need my permission,” Mick said. “She does as she pleases.”
“How intriguing. Quite independent, are you, Miss Trewlove?”
“I tend to be, yes.”
He offered his arm once more, not hesitating this time. “You must tell me all about your tavern during our dance.”
The next tune began, and she found herself circling the dance floor with him. He wasn’t quite as accomplished as Thorne, but then she had to admit she was probably biased. He asked her a series of questions and responded to each of her answers with, “How intriguing” before asking the next. Until at last she asked, “Do you attend many balls, my lord?”
“Have I stepped upon your toes so many times that my social graces are being called into question?” There was a twinkling in his eyes.
“No, my lord, but you do seem a bit nervous.”
“You are quite right. Much to my family’s disappointment, I’d rather be off reading a book, but my sister wished to attend tonight and as my mother was feeling poorly, it was left to me to escort her. She has high hopes of catching the eye of the Duke of Thornley and ultimately becoming his duchess.”
Gillie’s stomach hit the floor and she somehow managed not to trip over it. “I suppose many of the ladies here tonight are hoping for that.”
“Indeed. However, after observing the manner in which the duke gazed upon you while you danced with him, I sincerely hope she fails in her efforts. She’d not be at all happy married to a man who loved someone else.”
When a Duke Loves a Woman Page 27