Lady Vivian Defies a Duke (6 page)

Luke maintained a respectable distance between himself and Lady Vivian on the hard church pew. As he should have anticipated, there had been many curious looks upon their arrival together. Even now, there was a prickling sensation at his nape he often felt when someone was watching him.

The vicar would have nothing to worry about on this Sunday, as all eyes seemed to be trained on Lady Vivian and Luke. For her part, she didn’t seem to notice. A faraway smile played upon her full, pink lips. She boasted a perfect, kissable mouth, the kind that made a man forget his troubles when it was pressed against his.

She glanced in his direction and caught him staring. Her smile slipped.

Damn
. Luke snapped his gaze forward. Crossing his arms, he settled in to listen to the vicar’s sermon, his blood cooling simultaneously. Nothing killed a man’s passion swifter than the sight of another man in a dress. Luke shifted away from Lady Vivian to resist the temptation of ogling her again. Nevertheless, his thoughts drifted back to her.

Not only was she breathtaking, she possessed high spirits and boldness. Most impressively, she could converse on his current topic of interest, and she’d had no qualms about putting him in his place when he had been patronizing. She was also refreshingly transparent. She disapproved of his expedition, although she hadn’t spoken out against his plans like his younger brother had.

He had tried explaining his troubles to Richard once, but his brother had shaken his head like he’d pitied him. Luke’s shame wound tightly around him and a light sheen blanketed his skin. He wasn’t even able to look at the pages of a book without a blinding headache coming over him. How was he to take care of his family when he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain? He was no longer cut out to assume his father’s title, so what purpose did his life serve?

He glanced at Lady Vivian again. She wanted to marry, bear children, and live a normal life, but Luke was incapable of being normal now. A sedate life alone in the country wouldn’t satisfy a young and lively woman for long, no matter Lady Vivian’s claims. She would desire seasons in London, the opera, and gentlemanly attentions.

His spine stiffened.
Gentlemanly
attentions, my arse.

The thought of bloody rakehells providing her with comfort rubbed him raw. He turned to glare at the other men in the church for good measure and realized everyone was standing.

He bolted from his seat as the first bars of “Amazing Grace” piped from the organ. Lady Vivian offered to share her hymnal. Luke gazed warily at the book before taking hold of his half.

Her strong, sensual voice surprised him. After sitting through countless musicales featuring his three younger sisters and various family friends, he had come to believe only actresses could carry a tune.

Lady Vivian’s fingers brushed his as she adjusted her position and sent a jolt up his arm. He glanced to see if she had touched him on purpose, but her attention stayed focused on the notes and lyrics.

Luke couldn’t sing any better than his sisters, so he mouthed the words. An impertinent actress had once compared his singing to the caterwauling of an alley cat. He didn’t believe his musical talent to be quite as lacking, but no one would mistake him for a nightingale.

Lady Vivian’s hip lightly bumped against his. Again, she gave no indication of being aware of what she had done. On the third stanza, he swayed to the side and bumped her back. She lifted her face, mischief dancing in her eyes. She
had
touched him on purpose. Holding his gaze, she finished the verse, a corner of her mouth curling up. Luke’s throat constricted as her voice washed over him, casting a spell unbroken even when she looked away. Was this her attempt at revenge for his unabashed staring earlier?

When the toe of her half boot angled to touch his foot, desire flooded through him. How could he become aroused by such innocent contact? In church, no less. Pretending to sing all seven verses of “Amazing Grace.”

Seven
, for the love of God!

Curse Mr. Newton and his severely debauched life requiring seven verses to prove his rehabilitation.

As the last bars of music faded into the rafters, she took the hymnbook from him and smiled innocently up at him. “Your Grace.”

He wanted to wring her neck. Or kiss her until she babbled nonsense. Or bend her over the—

“Lady Vivian!” A shrill voice ripped into his fantasy and gave him a start.

A ruddy-cheeked older lady was frowning at them from the aisle, her heavy bosoms stressing the seams of her gown.

“Mrs. Honeywell, how nice to see you again. Did you have an enjoyable Season in London?” Lady Vivian’s polite greeting reminded him that she was a lady of good breeding. He had to stop daydreaming about compromising her.

“Where is Lady Brighthurst?” The woman’s nose wrinkled as she spoke of the viscountess. “Is your brother aware of her lax approach to chaperoning you?”

Lady Vivian stiffened beside him.

Mrs. Honeywell nailed her with a disdainful glower. “Surely, Lord Ashden would want to know of your behavior in today’s service. He would likely thank me for informing him.”

Luke eyed the woman in return. This was the harridan Lady Vivian had spoken of at dinner last night.

“Lady Vivian,” he said. “Please introduce me to your friend.”

He thought she might have snorted softly, but he kept his focus on Mrs. Honeywell.

“As you wish. Please allow me to present Mrs. Honeywell, the local—uh…”

The lady raised her severe eyebrows. “Mr. Honeywell is the largest landowner in Bedfordshire.” She paused as if waiting for Luke to say something.

“Indeed? Congratulations, Madame. You must be proud.”

“Yes, I am proud…” She blinked, bemusement fluttering across her round face.

Lady Vivian pressed her lips tightly together, struggling to school her features.

Mrs. Honeywell dismissed his comment with a flick of her wrist and regained speed, her glower focused on Lady Vivian. “When
your
brother hears of your brazen display today—”

“Forgive me, dear lady.” Luke smiled, aiming to charm her, although his tone left no room for mistake. She had no leave to chastise Lady Vivian, especially in his presence. “I must accept the blame. You see, I’m quite taken with my betrothed, but infatuation is no excuse for bad manners.”

“Betrothed?” Mrs. Honeywell almost choked on the word, her face blazing redder. “His lordship never mentioned finding a husband for
her
.”

Luke’s jaw twitched, but otherwise he hid his anger. He’d had years of practice. It would be unwise to lay claim to Lady Vivian. The negotiations between his father and Ashden were not common knowledge. Yet, the drive to protect her from this harpy was too strong. When he glanced down at Lady Vivian, he smiled. “Your brother hasn’t publicized our joyful news yet, has he?”

“I’m afraid not, Your Grace. But it is a sudden development, wouldn’t you agree?”

All color leeched from Mrs. Honeywell’s complexion. “Your Grace?”

Lady Vivian linked arms with him, playing the role of besotted maiden with relish. Lifting her face toward him, she fanned her thick lashes and beamed. Gads, his insides quivered when she gazed at him in admiration. What would it do to him if it were real?

“Mrs. Honeywell, allow me to present the Duke of Foxhaven, my very newly betrothed.”

“Oh my. The Duke of Foxhaven?” The older lady fanned her glossy cheeks.

Luke gave a perfunctory bow. “At your service. Now, if you will excuse us, Madame. I promised to escort this charming young lady to the church picnic.”

As they made to step around her, she moved to block their way. “Your Grace, perhaps you should seek me out at the picnic. I may be privy to something you might wish to know.”

“I possess everything I need to know. Good day, Madame.”

And he did. Lady Vivian would not go unscathed after their performance today. If Mrs. Honeywell was representative of the good townsfolk of Dunstable, they were a judgmental lot. He couldn’t leave Lady Vivian to face the consequences alone, but he didn’t know what to do about her either. His plan to set her free was growing more complicated every moment he spent in her presence.

***

A rush of affection for Foxhaven urged Vivi to squeeze his arm as they descended the church stairs. He had surprised her again, this time with his gallant defense. Was he reconsidering marriage to her? His response to Mrs. Honeywell seemed to indicate so.

Vivi had thought her offer the other day was sound, and to have him reject her outright had bruised her pride. Perhaps he was beginning to see the advantages of marrying a lady who would place few demands on him.

“Thank you for protecting me from the dragon back there.”

He tsked. “Lady Vivian, clearly Mrs. Honeywell is descended from Gorgons, not dragons.”

She giggled. The duke was as irreverent as she was, and she liked it.

Her behavior in church caused her a bit of embarrassment, though. Pretending to accidentally touch him had been brazen, even for her, but Foxhaven’s response when she had squeezed his leg in the carriage had left her giddy. Shameful as it was, she liked ruffling his calm. It made him seem more human.

His hand covered hers and applied pressure. “Is the woman likely to contact Ashden? I would be happy to write to him and explain.”

Some of her confidence faded. Perhaps she wasn’t bringing him up to scratch after all.

“I have learned to never underestimate Mrs. Honeywell. If Ash should hear about the incident, I will graciously accept your offer, but there is no need for action at this point.” She cocked her head to the side. “Has anyone ever told you that you play the doting suitor well?”

“Do I? Excellent. My inspiration is very…
inspiring
.” He winked and drew her closer. “But now you must stay by my side all afternoon so no one figures us out.”

They wandered arm-in-arm to the field behind the stone church where colorful blankets dotted the green grass like beds of flowers. Tables had been set up close to the church building, each loaded with like items for the contests—pies, lace, drawings, embroidery.

Foxhaven nodded toward the tables. “Do you enter contests?”

“Heavens, no. Although I should. To provide a boost of confidence to the other ladies.”

“Then you have never had the pleasure of taking home a ribbon to mark your achievement?”

“One must achieve something to earn a ribbon of achievement, Your Grace.”

They moved to the queue forming in front of two long tables draped in white cloths and covered with platters of chicken and cold ham, bowls of fruit, and sugar biscuits. Foxhaven passed a plate to her then allowed her to precede him through the buffet. Vivi selected what she wanted and left him at the table while she found a spot where they could sit.

A group of young ladies she had once considered friends saw her approaching and looked the other way, presenting their backs to her. The ache of loneliness had dulled over time, but their snub pricked her more sharply today. She located a blanket set apart from the others and claimed it. In a moment, Foxhaven joined her.

He pointed to a group of men stringing a finish line from one stake hammered into the ground to another. Mr. Fry, a church deacon, held strips of cloth in his fist as he supervised the placement of the finish line. The tails flapped in the breeze.

Foxhaven turned to her. “I think we could take the ribbon in the three-legged race. You’re a fast runner. Would you partner with me?”

Her first impulse was to accept, but she held back an enthusiastic yes. Checking to make certain no one sat close enough to overhear, she spoke softly. “We are already a source of gossip. If you have no intention of marrying me, I fear I have already given the townsfolk enough cause to speculate on the reason.”

His thick, black brows dropped low over his eyes. “You must know I cannot refuse, especially now. You would be ruined. Only you may cry off at this point.”

She suppressed a sigh. They were back to the same place they had begun. “If I may be frank, I have been more trouble to my cousin than I’m worth. I cannot ask her to assume responsibility for me any longer. I realize you don’t deserve to be saddled with me either, and for that, I apologize. But you are my last hope—”

“Lady Vivian.”

“Please, hear me out. All I ask is that you seriously consider my offer. Give me your name then you may do whatever you like. Discover Antarctica or search for the lost city of Atlantis, and I will lead a quiet life in the country. You wouldn’t have to be bothered by me again.”

“Stop speaking nonsense.” His blue gaze burned into her. “Your father was a nobleman, and some gentleman will make you an excellent husband. Why are you willing to settle?”

Vivi blinked back the tears threatening to embarrass her. He didn’t understand. To settle implied one had choices. “If I don’t marry you, my brother has resigned himself to send me to a convent in Scotland. My sister-in-law has been harping on the idea for at least two years now.”

Foxhaven recoiled. “A convent? Whatever for? You would do well in London. Is your brother mad?”

She shrugged. “I have often wondered the same thing about Ash. As far as his wife goes, I know for a fact she is a bit touched in the head.” She swiped at an escaping tear and forced a laugh that sounded hollow. “On second thought, Your Grace, you are probably wise to put distance between yourself and my family. The madness could be catching.”

The hardness around his mouth melted away and his foot brushed against hers. “You’re not mad. I clearly recall you telling me as much at dinner the other evening.”

She winced. “Is there any chance you might forget the other night?”

“Not even a sliver of a chance,” he said with a smirk.

“Splendid.”

“Listen. Don’t fret over anything at the moment. I may have an idea on how we can work this out.”

She turned a hopeful gaze on him. He smiled in return, showing off the small gap between his teeth. She could fall in love with that smile, so perfectly imperfect.