Callie Hutton (17 page)

The low cut
white
silk garment, with a wide band of red satin underneath her breasts brought attention to the creamy skin of her
cleavage
.
The small cap sleeves emphasized her slender shoulders.
As she gazed at the beautiful gown
, she tapped her finger against her lips. Perhaps she would even dampen the material so it clung to her body.
She shivered, reminding herself it was December.

She
padded
to her
chest
and withdrew long
red
satin opera gloves. Perfect to finish off
the
outfit
that
declared her
to be
a woman
of
passion
.
Shared w
ith a
man she intended to tempt all evening, and when he
offered to make her his mistress,
she would slap his arrogant face,
then
storm away, her head held high.

Why didn’t that make her feel any better?
True, s
he would have her moment, but she’d have to leave her girls and Kitty.
And watch Miss Jennings preen.

But worse than anything, lose the man she loved. The man she’d given herself to and thought he had at least some feelings for her besides lust.
To us
marriage
is all a business arrangement, nothing more
.

Oh God, how am I going to get through this night?

****

Penrose adjusted his cravat once more, standing next to his mother in the receiving line, constantly watching the staircase, waiting for Merry to descend.
His heart sped up every time he caught a flash of blonde out of the corner of his eye.
W
hen the woman turned out not to be Merry, his heart resumed its normal pattern.

Where
was the woman?

For some inexplicable reason, he’d
been unsuccessful in seeing her
all day. Every time he asked for her, she was gone from the manor, locked in her room, busy with his wards, supervising the servants, or on some infernal mission for his mother. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear Merry
had
purposely avoid
ed
him.

Unlike
the other women, she elected to have a tray
sent to
her room for dinner
.
His stomach in knots, he ate very little, and drank too much.
He grunted.
Leave it to getting involved with a woman to drive
a man
to drink.

“You’re looking quite well, Your Grace
.
”
His musings were interrupted by
Lady St. James
,
as she
eyed him, the familiar
sultry
look in her eye
s
. He’d had a short dalliance with her a few years ago, but quickly lost interest. Now her blatant tone and the possessive way sh
e rested her hand on his chest
rankled.

“My lady,” he bent over her hand and kissed it.

She cast a glance at him from under shuttered eyelids, a siren’s smile on her face before she moved along.

“Your Grace.”

He turned to encounter Miss Jennings
standing beside
. Heavens
,
what did the woman have on? Her gown would be more appropriate for a young debutante. Did the woman not possess anything more suited to her age? Ever the gentleman, he bent and kissed her hand. “You’re looking lovely this evening.”

She tittered,
and lingered
, fussing with her gown
. The overpowering stench of her perfume caused his eyes to water. He glanced
up
and came eye to eye with Merry
making her way into the ballroom
.

Everyone else in the room ceased to exist. He
attempted to swallow
with the driest
mouth
he’d ever had.
His eyes ate her up, her cool assessment, her chin angled in arrogance, her tongue running over her lush lips. She was exquisite.

And barely dressed!
Where the devil was the rest of her gown?

His blood froze, unable to decide
whether
to race
downward
to his groin in lust, or
upward to
his head in anger.
If she took a deep breath and exhaled, her delectable breasts would tumble from her bodice into her drink. All the muscles in his gut tightened, and he
fought
a
powerful
desire to shrug out of his jacket
, then
whip it around her shoulders
, covering up what no one else except h
e
should ever
lay eyes on
.

He
snagged her hand as s
he passed by.

She stopped, and raised her chin.
“Your Grace,” she curtsied gracefully.

“Stand up,” he snapped, causing his mother to glance at him. He could swear he’d gotten a glimpse of her nipple
s
.
“Do not
curtsy
for the rest of the evening.”

“As you say
.
” Merry
rose
, a sly smile on her face.

Her eyes twinkled with mirth, the cool disdain on her features a marked contrast.
H
is grip tightened on her hand
.
The red satin glove on her warm fingers brought a flush to his face, sending his blood south.
“Don’t go anywhere. I want to speak with you.”

“Indeed, Your Grace?” She tugged her hand from his. “
If you will excuse me,
I believe I’m being summoned.” She nodded slightly and entered the ballroom.

Good lord
,
I can’t let her parade around the room in that
gown
!

Twenty very long minutes passed before the last guest had been greeted, and Penrose was free to find his future duchess. After searching through the throng, he finally spotted her
talking with
Lord Grey, one of London’s worst rakes. He headed in her direction, his blood pumping in rhythm with his steps.

*

She should never have worn this gown. If one more
gentleman
talked to her breasts, she would scream. Lord Grey had
cornered her a while ago, and kept moving closer than what was acceptable.
If only she
could loosen one of her hairpins
to stick his hand.

Once mo
re she edged away from hi
m and
turned her head to see Penrose striding toward them, his face a mask of fury. She stiffened her spine, ready to do battle.

Her stomach
released a multitude of butterflies.
Why did he have to look so good?
A m
ultitude of eyes watched him from above silk fans as he strode past.
Her heart hammered at the sight of his broad shoulders as he eased his way through the crowd.
Dark waves of silky hair
fell over his forehead,
drawing
her attention to his eyebrows, furrowed above piercing brown eyes.
She gulped. This would be much easier to do if she didn’t have to look at him.

He
gripped
Grey’s
shoulder.
“Grey.
I believe Lady St. James is looking for you
.”

About to object, Lord Grey backed away when he observed Penrose’s face. “
Thank you,
Your Grace.”

Penrose took her gloved hand in his, kissed it, then staring into her eyes, swept her into
the first dance.
Al
l the arrogance of His Grace,
D
uke
of Penrose, emanated from his hard body.

Heat diffused her face at the memory of that arrogance cracking under the spell of their shared passion. Her flesh tingled where his palm gripped her back. As he brought them into a turn, he pulled her closer. His dancing was as graceful as everything else about him.

“It appears I will have to replace your lady’s maid.”
His deep voice swept over her like a curtain of fire. 

Unable to speak,
Merry didn’t reply, but merely raised her eyebrows.

His jaw worked.
“She seem
s
to have forgotten the rest of your gown.”

Merry
lifted
her chin. All the cutting remarks she’d worked out in her mind
throughout the day
had
fled at Penrose’s touch. Why did he affect her so? Where was the anger she’d felt last night a
fter
hearing his intention to become betrothed to Miss Jennings
?

After
making love to
me
.

Gathering the mantle of righteous indignation about her, she
cast him a tight smile.
“This gown is precisely the way it should be. And you have no right to criticize my choice of
clothing
.”

“And that will soon cha
nge.” He moved them toward the F
rench doors, and then grasping her hand tightly, all but dragged her onto the terrace.

“Your Grace,
it’s
freezing out here.” She ran her palms up and down her arms.

“We need a quiet place to talk, and I don’t want to
march
you through that room with every man in there staring at your bosom.” He shrugged out of his jacket and wrapped it around her.

She pulled the jacket closer. “
’
Tis
my
bosom to stare at.” The warmth from his body transferred itself to her, along with his scent,
crippling h
er heart.

“Merry.” He took both her hands in his. “I’ve been trying
see
you
alone all day.”

“Under the circumstances, Your Grace,
‘tis
very inappropriate.”

He slid his arms around her, then gathered her close. “But not for long. What I’m about to ask you will make it acceptable for me to be alone with you any time I wish.”

The blood rushed to her face. The nerve of the man. Not only was he going to expect her to be his mistress, he would also demand her time and attention any time he wished. Oh, how her palm itched to smack that
smug
face.

“Indeed?” She raised her eyebrows, all the time dying on the inside.

He cupped her chin. “Miss Chambers, I am requesting you do me the honor of becoming my duchess.”

Her heart pounded in righteous
indignation.
She reared back. “How dare you? You think because…” She stopped and stared at him wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’m asking you to marry me
, sweetheart
.”

Merry
stared at him in shocked silence, then
shook her head. “
Marry you?”

“Yes.”

“
What about Miss Jennings?”

“Who?”

“Miss Jennings. The perfect governess who would be the perfect duchess
.
”

“What are you talking about?
”
He cupped her cheek.
”
You, my love, are the perfect duchess.
For me.
”

When what he’d said finally s
u
nk in, Merry realized she’d misunderstood the entire conversation she’d overheard between Penrose and
Lord Brandon
.

“You w
ish
to marry
me
?”
she whispered.

“More than anything.” He brushed his lips over hers. “
Sweetheart, please s
ave me from the torture I’ve been going through all day and
say yes.”

She moved back, hand on her hip, her eyes narrowed. “Is this to be a
business arrangement
,
Your Grace
?”
She tapped her foot.

He
grinned and
tugged her back. “No,
my love.” He tapped the end of her nose with his finger. “And no more
‘
Your Grace.
’
I want to be your husband,
your
lover, the father of your children. And if
you feel about me the way I feel about you, this will be a love match.”