Four Dukes and a Devil (2 page)

Two weeks later…

I
t’s the Irish Duke.”

“What’s
he
doing here?”

“I don’t know. I was certain Bollinger told me he was
not
invited.”

“Ummm, the Irish Duke.”

Susan heard the rush of excited whispers around the ballroom floor. They were saying something about an Irish duke, but she wasn’t certain she was hearing correctly because she was far too preoccupied searching for Lady Theresa.

The girl was a trial. Her beloved Gerald had followed her to London, and he was most adept at sneaking his way into every social occasion. The only time Susan hadn’t caught sight of him was when Lady Theresa and several of her other charges were presented at Court—and that was probably only because Susan wasn’t there herself.

He wasn’t completely unrespectable. In fact, he was rather handsome and had a charm about him. It was also obvious he was madly and completely in love with Lady Theresa.

Gerald had shown up at the ball this evening. Last night at the Barrington ball, the young couple had wanted to dance, and it had taken all of Susan’s persuasive powers to convince them a public spectacle would only make Lady Theresa’s father angrier. Reluctantly, they had agreed she was right, but Gerald wouldn’t leave until he knew he could spend a few minutes with Lady Theresa sometime over the next few days. Before Susan knew what she was doing, she found herself agreeing to chaperone Lady Theresa for a rendezvous.

It was a devil of a promise and one Susan knew she’d have to renege on. She’d feel bad for doing so. She liked Lady Theresa, and Gerald seemed the sort of man who would make a good husband. If only he had money or prestige—

A tingling at the nape of her neck brought her thoughts to a halt. Some inner sense warned her that something was amiss. She didn’t experience it often, but when she did, she paid attention. She prayed it wasn’t a disaster with Lady Theresa or one of her other eight charges.

Susan turned, looking around the crowded room for the reason her every sense had gone alert—and then she saw
him.

For a second she could barely think, let alone move.

A tall, dark-haired man with a square, masculine jaw, broad,
broad
shoulders was staring at her with such intensity it was as if his gaze reached across the distance between them and touched her. He was the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on.

She knew she should look away, but she couldn’t.

Feelings she’d long thought dead to her forever, feelings of desire and lust and yearning, reared their ugly heads and reminded her she was still young, still alive.

And it wasn’t just his looks that attracted her. There was a presence about him that seemed to make all other men fade in comparison, a presence that made her feel vulnerable, something she’d vowed she’d never let happen again—

“Miss Rogers, please don’t be upset with me, but it was my brother who brought the Irish Duke to the ball. Miss Rogers? Miss Rogers, are you all right?”

Susan had to give herself a little shake to make Miss Arabella Riggins’s nasal voice make sense. The young woman, a slender, fluffy blonde who often acted completely helpless, stood before her, hands clasped in worry.

“I’m fine,” Susan said, knowing she sounded a bit dazed. “I just had something else on my mind. What were you saying? Something about someone’s coming to the ball?” She glanced over her shoulder and was disappointed to see that the dark-haired gentleman no longer stood where she’d last seen him, and there was no time to search for him because Miss Arabella was prattling on again.

“The
Irish Duke
, Miss Rogers. I didn’t know Archibald was going to bring him, or I would have warned you.”

The Irish Duke?
Susan shook her head. “Miss Arabella, please don’t worry. There is no Irish duke here tonight.”
Because there is no Irish duke in England.

“Oh, but there is,” Miss Arabella assured her. “I know because he is a friend of my brother.”

Susan thought Miss Arabella a bit of a silly goose, but making up an Irish duke was behaving beyond goosey.

And then their hostess, the silver-haired Lady Bollinger, skillfully slid up to Susan to say, with a smile on her face but desperation in her eyes, “I had to admit
him. He
and my husband are friends. I pray you to forgive me. I didn’t send
him
an invitation, but
he
is here all the same.”

“Who’s he?” Susan asked, confused.

“The
Irish
Duke,” Lady Bollinger said, the purple plumes in her hair shaking with her agitation.

“You mean, there
is
an Irish duke?” Susan said.

“Of course there is,” Lady Bollinger answered. “You knew that. You told us about him. The Duke of Killeigh. You’ve warned all of us against him.”

“We’ve attempted to do everything we could to avoid him,” Miss Arabella said. “But he is on a hunt for a wife. Lady Elizabeth had to run from the room last night at Lord and Lady Barrington’s ball or else she would have been forced to take the floor with him.”

“Run from the room? Away from a duke?” Susan was stunned. That was shocking behavior. Her charges should not behave that way, but then where had she been last night when all this was going on—?

She’d been having a very sincere and frank talk with Lady Theresa and her Gerald.

Lady Bollinger flipped open her fan. “You needn’t worry. The girls managed to skirt any of His Grace’s advances quite successfully.” She made a rather nasty laugh. “My husband will be furious the duke is here tonight. He has reconsidered their acquaintance after you explained the Order of Precedence and no longer wishes to speak to him.”

Susan groped for words, horrified at the rudeness. “But he’s a duke.”

“And he is also, as you very rightly pointed out,
Irish.
An Irish duke. Lord Bollinger opined to me yesterday evening that considering the Irish dukes have fomented rebellion since time began, the Crown would be better off without them. I answered that was a very astute opinion and urged him to see what he could do in Parliament.”

“He would talk to Parliament?” Susan raised a hand to her forehead, trying to make sense of all this. “We must remember,” she said, forcing herself to smile, an expression that actually hurt at this moment, “that Killeigh is still a duke. Irish dukes are important.”

Lady Bollinger dismissed her words with a wave of her hand. “But not important enough for
my
daughter. She will not be last for anything.”

“I don’t want to be last either,” Miss Arabella injected.

Susan could have buried her face in her hands in frustration. Who would have thought that her clever little speech to convince parents that they needed her services and to pay her handsomely for them would be taken so literally?

Who would have thought there was an Irish duke in London?

“Of course, there is nothing we can do about his presence now,” Lady Bollinger opined. “However, I wanted to warn you, Miss Rogers, to be on the alert. The Duke of Killeigh is a handsome man—”

“
Very
handsome,” Miss Arabella echoed.

“You need to keep our precious little pigeons away from him,” Lady Bollinger finished, giving Miss Arabella a motherly tap on the arm with her fan. “We can’t have his handsome countenance luring them away.”

“I shall do my best, my lady,” Susan replied, more than overwhelmed at the moment.

What a devil of a mess.

She needed to go somewhere to think. She needed to concoct a new story, one that didn’t brand the Irish Duke an Undesirable.

Lady Bollinger had spied someone she knew who was more important than Susan and gone floating off, fan and purple plumes waving in the air. Miss Arabella was claimed by her next dance partner, a pockmarked baronet’s son who would never be as good a catch as a duke, Irish or not.

Seeing that all her charges, including Lady Theresa, were on the dance floor with proper partners, Susan moved toward a corridor. She needed a moment of solitude to consider this new twist with the Irish Duke.

However, she’d not taken more than a few steps when a strong hand clamped down on her arm. She turned with a start to realize that the dark-haired stranger had come up silently behind her.

“Don’t speak, don’t even think until we are outside alone,” he said. The lightest trace of Ireland accented his words. He opened the glass door leading out into the garden.

Susan attempted to dig in her heels. She feared what that accent could mean. “I do not know you, sir. I shall not go off alone with you.”

“You don’t know me?” the gentleman repeated. “And yet everyone is quoting what you’ve said about me. Let me introduce myself, I’m the Duke of Killeigh.”

With those words, he whisked her outside to the seclusion of the winter night.

M
iss Susan Rogers was not like any spinster of Roan’s acquaintance, especially those with the charge of other people’s children.

He’d pictured either a robust dumpling of a woman or a thin, spare one, both with gray hair and frown lines.

Instead, he found himself commandeering a woman with golden blond hair, full curves in all the right places, and brown eyes alive with intelligence. He’d noticed her immediately when he’d entered Bollingers’ ballroom. She’d stood out like a beacon from all other women there—and it made him unreasonably angry.

He didn’t want to be attracted to her. Not after what she’d done to him.

Roan Gillray, the fourth Duke of Killeigh, had come looking for a wife. Other men who frequented the round of balls and parties comprising the Season laughed about the Marriage Mart, and many vowed to steer clear of matchmaking mamas—but Roan wanted to be ensnared. He was ready to marry.

Perhaps it was because he’d been to war. He knew how short and precious life was. There had been times on the battlefield when he’d doubted he would make it out alive…and many lonely nights when he’d longed for the grace of female companionship. He wasn’t thinking about sex. He’d never lacked for bed partners. What he wanted, what he needed was something
more
…

And then he’d been blessed to inherit the dukedom from his cousin, an ill-humored, bitter man who had shut out all in the family. No one had been more surprised than Roan when he learned he was his cousin’s heir, and not just to the title but also the old miser’s carefully hoarded fortune.

Well, Roan had plans for that fortune. He was anxious to throw off the mantle of soldier and take up the hoe as farmer. He wanted peace and a place on this earth that was all his. He liked the idea of knowing where his bed would be at night and having a woman who understood his ways and cared for him sleeping beside him in the middle of it. She didn’t need to love him—Roan had seen too much of the cruelty in men to believe there was such a thing as love—but he wanted a woman who
liked
him. Now there was a good word. He wanted someone in his life to like him.

Except now, everyone acted as if he was a pariah, and it was all because of this woman, who had the longest lashes he’d ever seen—

Miss Rogers jerked her arm away from his hold, and he let her go, half-expecting her to march inside and denounce him. It was anger that had driven him forward, but the cold air had slapped some sense into him.

However, instead of storming inside, she stood her ground. “You are angry,” she said, “and you have every right to be.” She straightened her back. “I have unintentionally maligned you. Please accept my apology, Your Grace.”

“Unintentionally, Miss Rogers?” He gave a bitter laugh, his anger welling inside him all over again. “You singled me out, and you don’t know me.”

“I didn’t single
you
out. I was talking about Irish dukes in general.”

“There aren’t that many of us.”

“Yes, and frankly, I didn’t expect that there would be one in London.”

“So it would be acceptable to malign my title if I wasn’t in London?” he asked, a bit confused by her reasoning. “Or were we just never supposed to leave the island?”

Miss Rogers sighed and moved away from the door as if she didn’t want to be overheard. “I only told everyone the truth about the Order of Precedence. The Irish dukes do follow the English and Scottish dukes.”

“Yes, but we are ahead of all the marquises and viscounts and everyone else of any country.”

“I know,” Miss Rogers agreed. “But I’ve discovered no parents want their daughter to be last in anything. It really is quite extraordinary, but it has worked to my advantage. You know what I do for my living, do you not, Your Grace?”

“You see that young women introduced to society are successful in their hunt for husbands.”

“I would frame it a bit more gently, but yes, that is what I do. And I am very good at it. But this year, because of my pointing out the Order of Precedence, I have had more parents than usual seek out my services. I didn’t mean to blacken your name although it has been an excellent selling scheme.”

Her honesty was refreshing. It had seemed to Roan that every woman he’d met in London spoke in riddles and hidden meaning. Miss Rogers didn’t flinch at plain speaking.

So he felt completely within his rights to say, “I’m certain it has been a wonderful scheme, but now you must tell your employers the truth.”

“But I
have
told the truth,” she informed him.

“Yes, but they don’t understand that an Irish duke is as good if not better than most the other peers of lower rank,” he answered.

“Isn’t that matter open to debate?” she suggested.

“It is
not
open to debate,” he replied.

“We are debating it right now.”

Roan frowned, mentally taking back everything he’d thought about plain speaking.

“Miss Rogers, you say you mean no disrespect, but you refuse to clear up the misunderstanding you created.”

She crossed her arms, looking out into the night before countering, “I am sorry for the misunderstanding, Your Grace. You seem to be every inch the gentleman. However, I have not misled anyone about the Order of Precedence. If they chose to take it to the extreme—well, what can I do?”

“You can tell them they are wrong,” Roan answered, his temper returning.

“But they are not.”

“They
are.
”

“No, I’ve studied my
The New Peerage.
I am correct, although I regret no mention was made of your holding the title. My copy is several years old.”

“Or is it that you do not wish to look the fool, Miss Rogers? You would rather I play that part.”

Even in the moonlight, he could see her blush. She crossed her arms as if cold. “It is my livelihood after all,” she murmured.

Roan could give her that. Having been one of the genteel poor, he understood her position, and he came to a decision. “I understand. However, I find it insulting to have young women run from me when I ask them to dance.”

“It was extremely rude of Lady Elizabeth, and I shall take her to task. If you wish, she will be happy to dance with you this evening.”

“I’m not interested in taking her to task,” Roan said, an idea coming to him. “However,
you
could dance with me. I believe that would settle the matter.”

“
Me?
Dance with
you
?”

Roan nodded.

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I did that…” She let her voice trail off.

“Then it would be the same as admitting you were wrong about the Irish Duke,” he finished for her.

She took a worried step away from him. “I am to be here for my charges, not for my personal entertainment.”

“Oh, this wouldn’t be personal, Miss Rogers, and you know it. It would be a matter of settling business between us.”

“But then everyone would question what I’d said about the Irish duke.”

“Exactly,” he agreed.

“And I can’t let that happen. I don’t receive payment for my services until the Season is over.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said.

“It is a risk,” she admitted, “but I’m paid more money that way.”

“And making me the outcast of society is about money.”

”
No.
” Miss Rogers made an impatient sound. “I had an idea and…it didn’t work for you. But I will rectify the situation if you will give me a bit of time.”

“I don’t want to give you time,” Roan said, enjoying the game. “I want a dance.”

“I can’t give you a dance. It would ruin me.”

He moved in closer. “Or it would make us
both
the talk of London—”

The door opened, and a young couple all but tumbled out the door they were so anxious to throw themselves into each other’s arms. Unfortunately for them, Miss Rogers was there.

“
Miss Rogers?
” the young girl said in surprise.

“Lady Theresa,” Miss Rogers said in tones of disapproval. “Good evening, Mr. Grover. The two of you come with me.”

And before Roan registered what was happening, Miss Rogers marched the hapless lovers back inside the door…and escaped him.

Susan was relieved to be free of the Duke of Killeigh’s overwhelming presence. The man was a menace to her.

He was also devilishly attractive.

But she couldn’t dance with him. Not until this Season was over. Her creditability and livelihood depended upon it.

So, she laid into Mr. Gerald Grover with great enthusiasm. Anything to put distance between herself and the Duke of Killeigh’s disturbing challenge.

A dance? How ridiculous. How
dangerous.

The hapless Gerald was happy to slink off when she was done. Of course, Lady Theresa was in tears, so it took a good part of an hour to placate her and extract further promises to behave. She really was a good girl but infatuated with her Gerald. Fortunately, Lady Theresa had been so shocked to see Susan, she hadn’t noticed the duke.

After the reprimand, Susan had to hurry back out to the ballroom to check on her other charges.

All in all, it was a very hectic hour…but she did notice that the Duke of Killeigh was gone. He’d left. Apparently he hadn’t wanted that dance after all.

Susan stood alone by a potted palm, away from those enjoying the ball, and was surprised by how disappointed she felt. She knew she shouldn’t. Hadn’t John taught her how men made promises they had no intention of keeping?

Except, for some irrational reason, she hadn’t expected that from the Duke of Killeigh.

With a shake of her head, she told herself she was being silly. She couldn’t dance with the duke. It was better he’d given up on her—

A footman carrying a silver salver approached, interrupting her thoughts. “Miss Rogers?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“This is for you.” The servant bowed and offered the salver. On it was the Duke of Killeigh’s card.

Susan picked up the card and caught sight of the bold, slanted handwriting on the back of it. She waited until the footman had withdrawn to read what had been written.

I
will
have my dance. Killeigh

She folded the card and slipped it into her glove. Life had suddenly become very complicated.

And more than a bit exciting.