A Summons From the Duke (5 page)

Isabel stared at him, aghast. “What is that supposed to mean, Mr. Lockwell? Know you something that you’re not telling me?”

That mischievous smile crept onto his lips and continued upwards until it lit his eyes. He leaned in close again—closer than ever—and whispered, “Maddening, isn’t it?”

~*~

Playing with Lady Isabel was simply too much fun. He barely knew her, and yet, he somehow understood how to stoke her ire. He knew he was playing with fire, but he just couldn’t stop himself.

Lady Isabel pasted on a smile that wasn’t really a smile at all, but rather a natural result of her grinding her teeth together. “What do you know?” she asked through tight lips.

Damien shrugged, knowing it would make her positively furious. “A little of this, a little of that. Though I’m sure I don’t know nearly as much as you do. You seem to be quite a learned woman, Lady Isabel.”

Her nostrils flared and her chest moved up and down with every breath. Never mind that her chest was covered in dark fabric—he couldn’t take his eyes away. Had she always had such ample breasts? He didn’t remember that being the case earlier, when they were in the library.

“
Would you please stop staring at me like that?” she asked, and Damien finally looked up to realize she’d gone rather red in the cheeks.

“
Only if you stop breathing so heavily.”

Lady Isabel looked away, clearly embarrassed and probably praying that no one was paying them any attention. “If you have information that could help my sister,” she said at last, “I would greatly appreciate your sharing it with me.”

“
Yes, yes,” Damien said, blotting his lips with his napkin. “I’m sure you would. But what fun would that be if I just
gave
you the information?”

“
I’m not looking to have fun, Mr. Lockwell. I’m looking to help my sister find love.”

Damien burst into laughter, but seeing that he’d drawn the attention of the entire table, he sought to quell his mirth. Isabel looked as if she wanted to slide right off her chair and under the mahogany table.

“
You are too rude by half,” she said, her tone icy.

“
I’ve never understood that phrase. Am I too rude, or am I simply
half
rude? You can see my confusion, can’t you?”

“
I can see you keep trying to change the subject.”

“
Ah, yes. Helping the sister find love.” He fought another chuckle and continued. “I’m surprised at you, Lady Isabel. I wouldn’t imagine someone of your great sense and intelligence would believe in love.”

“
I
don’t…” She looked at her sister and then looked back at him. “But my sister does. And I do love
her.
”

“
Such sisterly devotion,” he said with mock reverence.

Isabel had had enough of Mr. Lockwell and his teasing. “Enough of this nonsense. If you’re simply going to mock me then I’d rather not share your company. Actually, I’d prefer to forget about you altogether.”

“
Well, I’m not a very forgettable person, Lady Isabel.”

“
Of course you are.”

“
What color are my eyes?”

“
Blue,” she said without hesitation and without even needing to look. Damn him.

“
See? The color of my eyes is already emblazoned upon your memory.”

It was true. Infuriating, but true.

Her mother stood from the table finally, signaling the end of dinner. The women would make their escape to the drawing room for tea, while (blessedly) the men stayed behind for port and cigars.

“
It’s been a great pleasure dining with you, Lady Isabel,” Lockwell said, loudly enough for the rest of the party to hear.

Isabel had no choice to but answer him politely. She pasted on a smile, and replied in syrupy tones, “Oh, no, Mr. Lockwell, the pleasure was all mine.”

~
6 ~

Damien didn’t really care to stay behind for port, especially since Heathfield took off out of the room, chasing the skirts of the conniving little Lady Emma. It seemed her little game of Make Heathfield Jealous was working splendidly. He would be eating out of her hand in no time. And as soon as Emma found out he wasn’t really betrothed, he was certain wedding bells would be chiming loudly throughout the land. It was only a matter of time.

“
I say, Mr. Lockwell, what the devil were you whispering to my granddaughter all through dinner?”

Damien looked up at the Duke of Danby, expecting to see anger in his eyes, but rather there was a twinkle of mischief there, as if he knew exactly what they were talking about.

“
Your granddaughter seems to know quite a bit about animal husbandry,” he said, falling into the lie very easily. “She was apprising me of the necessities of cross-breeding.”

The duke laughed and took a puff of his cigar. “She’s too damned smart for her own good,” he grumbled. “Which is why she’s my favorite of all my grandchildren.” Danby winked at Damien. “Never had to talk about ribbons or petticoats with that one, even when she was small. ‘Read to me from this book, Grandpapa,’ she would say, and then she’d crawl into my lap with an encyclopedia. The
R
s
were her favorites, don’t ask me why.”

Damien could easily imagine a five-year-old version of Lady Isabel, insisting to be read to from an encyclopedia. No fairy tales for that one.

“
I assume you speak of my Isabel?” Lord Norland joined the conversation after a short discourse with a footman.

“
Who else?” asked Danby.

Norland sat with a heavy sigh. “Her mother fears she will never find a husband, and I think her fears are founded. What man wants to be wed to a woman who will recite scientific dictionaries to him while he sips his brandy?”

“
A scientist, perhaps?” suggested Damien.

“
God help us if Isabel marries beneath her station,” Norland said with a shudder. “Her mother would have an apoplexy for certain.”

“
Or perhaps a man who simply appreciates a healthy yearning for knowledge.” Damien wondered if Norland would challenge him on the idea of a yearning for knowledge being healthy.

But it was Danby who answered. “Here, here, Mr. Lockwell!” He raised his glass and then downed his port in one, swift movement. “Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I fear the witching hour is nigh.”

“
Shall we join the ladies, then, Lockwell?” Norland asked, and Damien was grateful he wouldn’t have to sit alone in the dining room with the marquess. The man was rather formidable.

“
I would love nothing more,” he replied, his mind turning to Lady Isabel once again. The world seemed rather dull now when she wasn’t nearby. How strange.

~*~

“
Where is my sister?” Isabel asked when Miss Mason crossed the threshold into the drawing room alone. “The two of you were arm-in-arm a moment ago.”

Miss Mason huffed and her nose and mouth pinched into a very unbecoming expression. “She is having a word with Lord Heathfield…
alone.
”

“
A word?” she repeated, hardly able to believe it. “Whatever are they having a word about?”

“
Does it matter? Either way, it is highly improper.”

“
What is highly improper?”

Isabel started, and whirled around on Sir Thomas. “Sneaking up on a person,” she replied testily.

“
I didn’t mean to startle, Lady Isabel.”

“
Nonetheless…”

“
Oh, look. Here comes your sister now.” Sir Thomas’s eyes landed on Emma and there they stayed.

“
Does she look well to you?” Miss Mason cocked her head sideways, as if to get a better view of Emma.

In truth, Emma did not look well. She looked flushed and flustered. What the devil had Heathfield done to her?

Isabel started for her sister, but Sir Thomas nearly knocked her down in order to get to Emma first.

“
Lady Emma,” he said, his soft voice grating on every nerve in Isabel’s body. “Might I ask you to show me your family’s portrait gallery? I’ve been meaning to ask for some time, but—”

“
Yes!” Emma blurted out. “I mean, that is if Papa approves.”

Father made his way into the drawing room at that very moment, clearly having overheard the question. “Yes, of course, my dear. Your mother will accompany you.”

Isabel lost interest in her sister’s game as Mr. Lockwell sauntered lazily into the drawing room behind her father. Her throat closed and her heart thumped, and there went her blasted stomach again. The thought that he was quite handsome when his mouth was shut crossed her mind briefly before she squelched it completely.

Handsome. Ha! He was slovenly and lazy and…
handsome.

She pinched herself this time as punishment for thinking that thought about him. Repeatedly.

As Emma and Sir Thomas disappeared with Mama in tow, Lockwell joined Isabel and Miss Mason near the fireplace. He gave Isabel a look that said,
Your sister is up to something.

That much Isabel already knew. However, they weren’t in a position to discuss it just then, and Isabel didn’t even
want
to discuss it. Discussions with Lockwell only made her want to throw herself from a cliff.

“
Can I interest you in a cup of wassail, Mr. Lockwell?” she asked, trying to remain as polite as possible under the circumstances.

“
I would love a cup, but please, allow me.” He left them for a moment, and Miss Mason grabbed her arm in his absence.

“
Isn’t he simply delectable?”

Isabel started. Mostly because she’d never heard Miss Mason talk about any man, ever. But also because
delectable
was hardly a word one should use to describe another human being, let alone Mr. Lockwell. “Delectable?” she repeated. “You speak as if he’s sweetmeat on a platter.”

Miss Mason giggled at that and her cheeks flushed pink. What simpering madness! Over Lockwell!

“
Here we are,” Lockwell said, handing over two cups of wassail and keeping one for himself. “A toast!”

“
To what, exactly?” Isabel asked. Her eyes narrowed on him.

Lockwell gave her a look, silently accepting her challenge, and then said, “To Miss Mason. She is Christmas Cheer personified, don’t you think?”

Miss Mason nearly melted into a puddle of titters and whimpers. “Oh, Mr. Lockwell, you flatter me.”

Isabel wished she could have driven her fist right through his stomach. Instead, she lifted her glass and said, “To Miss Mason, Christmas Cheer herself.”

They all drank and then Miss Mason’s smile faded suddenly. Isabel looked over her shoulder to see that Heathfield had entered the room. Clearly, Miss Mason was determined to hold her grudge against him.

“
It is a good thing my brother is so forgiving. Another man might not have been willing to overlook your sister’s indiscretion.”

Isabel and Lockwell both snapped their heads to look at Miss Mason.

“
How do you mean, Miss Mason?” asked Isabel.

Miss Mason smiled sweetly. “I mean, he is still willing to offer for your sister.”

Silence fell over them as Papa greeted Heathfield. “Ah, Heathfield! We thought you must have gotten lost.”

Heathfield gave a tight smile. “Just got distracted, sir. I, uh, was hoping to have a word with Lady Emma.”

Miss Mason snorted. Did she really think Emma would marry her sycophantic brother?

“
Sir Thomas offered to escort her to the portrait gallery just a moment ago,” Papa said, and Isabel could see Heathfield’s hands clench into tight fists at his sides. Was it possible he already returned Emma’s feelings?

“
But I’m certain she’ll be back soon,” the marquess continued.

Damien crossed to where they stood and clapped his hand on Heathfield’s back. “Yes. Lady Norland insisted she accompany them as well.”

Damien gave Heathfield a warning look, and Isabel found it endearing that he was looking out for his friend. She’d pegged him for a selfish prig.

“
I see. Perhaps I’ll just find their little party then,” Heathfield said.

“
Is something wrong?” Papa asked, his smile turning into a frown.

“
Of course not.” Heath gave a little chuckle. “I simply remembered something Drew penned in his letter that he wanted me to relay to Lady Emma.”

Isabel sputtered and choked on her wassail. Bugger it all, they both knew about the letter. Perhaps that was why Heathfield was so bent on a private audience with her—he meant to chastise Emma for dragging him to Yorkshire at Christmas.

“
Isabel, are you all right?” Papa asked.

She nodded, trying her best to compose herself. “Just surprised Drew would send a message to Emma in such a
circuitous
fashion.” She shifted her gaze to Heathfield. “I’m certain she’d love to know whatever message our dear brother sends. Do you know where the gallery is, my lord?” At least she could send him in to hopefully put a stop to the impending proposal from Sir Thomas. It was one thing to have him as a neighbor—it would be quite another to have him for a brother-in-law.