My Dark Duke (5 page)

Alethea was about to thank him again, when she saw him stiffen. She looked up at him just in time to see his eyes jerk back to the front. Wondering what had caused the reaction, she let her eyes casually drift in the direction he had been looking. A handsome woman in a passing curricle was staring straight at them, not bothering to disguise her interest. The dark-haired woman was dressed in a bright emerald-green silk and taffeta gown trimmed in black. The square-cut neckline was particularly low, and there was no fichu to preserve her modesty. The suggestive nature of her costume coupled with her direct stare indicated to Alethea that she was not a member of the polite world, and the fact was confirmed when the young man at her side placed an overly familiar hand on the woman's arm.

Alethea, of course, being a nobleman's daughter, did not deign to acknowledge the other woman's presence and stared straight ahead as Trent was doing. When the other curricle had passed by, she risked a glance at the duke, inwardly dismayed to find that he looked displeased, his mouth drawn into a tight, grim line. Who
was
that woman? Did he know her? Of course, she couldn't very well ask him, so the next few minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly as they sat in silence. Bother that woman. Everything had been moving along swimmingly until she appeared. The duke finally exited the park and headed back on the route they had travelled upon earlier.

He was so quiet that when he finally spoke, she almost jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘My apologies, Lady Alethea. I'm afraid my thoughts have wandered to some estate business that I was suddenly reminded of. That was unpardonable of me.'

She doubted very much that it was estate business that had caused the heavy frown. But she didn't want to quarrel, and in any case, she had no right to question him on the rather obvious untruth. ‘I forgive you, just this once.' She gave him a smile.

He looked down upon her, his expression serious enough to make her heart skip. The words that then came out of his mouth were at odds with the look on his face. ‘Will you perchance be attending the musicale at the Guildfords' on Saturday evening?'

She felt her pulse race. Did that mean he wanted to see her again? Heavens, she really
was
becoming besotted with the man.
Alethea, don't you dare give him any looks that could be mistaken for a starry-eyed gaze. Have some pride, for goodness sake.
‘I believe Mother has already sent our acceptances, so yes, I will be there.' She was immensely proud of her even tone of voice.

The tension about his mouth eased. ‘I, too, will be in attendance, so perhaps I shall see you there.'

‘In that case, we can continue our conversation about the weather and the health of the various members of my family at that time.' Alethea allowed herself to smile freely at his low chuckle. The sound made her heart flutter.

‘I will try my utmost to contain my excitement till then,' murmured the duke, straight-faced once more as they drew up in front of her residence. He helped her down from the curricle and they walked up the steps to her front door.

‘Thank you for the drive, Your Grace. It was most enjoyable.'

His mouth curved slightly. ‘You flatter me overly, Lady Alethea. I am certain you would have had a more interesting conversation with the horses.'

She laughed lightly. ‘That might be true, but I am sure they wouldn't have complimented me on my hat. That was the highlight of my afternoon.'

Trent shook his head, looking rueful as he rapped on the door with his cane. ‘If that was the highlight of your afternoon, my conversational skills were woeful indeed. I will endeavour to work on them before our next meeting.'

Alethea had no idea what came over her at that moment. She flashed him a smile that she
knew
was coquettish. ‘Well, Your Grace, if you are unable to think of scintillating conversational topics, then may I suggest you come up with another activity that
will
hold my interest.' And with that, she slipped through the door, smiling to herself at the startled look on the duke's face her statement had engendered.

She wouldn't have felt quite so pleased with her flirtatious remark if she had seen the predatory gleam that appeared in his eyes mere moments later. No, she would have instead felt extremely nervous. And she would have had cause to be. Because unbeknownst to her, she had just roused a beast from slumber. A darkly dangerous beast.

Our Heroine Disposes of an Ice or Two

‘James.'

James looked up from his perusal of yesterday's edition of the
Gentleman's Magazine
to see Cole walking towards him, dressed in his usual attire of varying shades of brown, including the carelessly folded cravat and the strands of hair that had escaped his queue. The duke suppressed a smile. Brilliant though he was, genius even, Dr Thaddeus Cole, being a doctor, was not considered by society as being much above a tradesman. It was only as a direct result of his relationship with James, and Cole's higher than usual success rate in healing the aristocracy's many ailments, that the doctor managed to procure the sought-after membership to Brooks's.

‘Good afternoon.' James observed as Cole sat down on the leather armchair opposite him. ‘It's barely noon. Have you already finished your treatment of Lady Rathbourne's warts?' The question was only slightly tongue-in-cheek. Cole's skills in the healing arts were so well known that he was not only called upon to treat serious injuries from duels but also more minor complaints such as, well, warts.

His friend did not look amused. ‘In actual fact, James, I spent the morning saving Viscount Lithgow's arm from being amputated. He will eventually regain full use of his limb. Not that he deserves it, after making a fool of himself trying to seduce another man's wife. What have
you
done today?' Cole asked challengingly.

James chuckled. ‘
Touché
. I have done nothing that remotely approaches the saving of a man's limb. In fact, I am ashamed to say that aside from dictating a handful of letters and accepting an invitation to Lady Northbridge's ball, I have achieved nothing.'

Cole's eyes narrowed. ‘Wait. There is something . . . different about you.'

The duke folded his magazine in half and rested it on his lap. ‘Well, I did have herrings for breakfast instead of my usual kippers. Your powers of observation are astounding, Cole.' One of the disadvantages of this friendship was Cole's familiarity, and thus complete lack of deference to him.

Cole ignored his friend's quip, as he was wont to do. ‘Have there been any developments with Lady Alethea, James?'

James didn't spend more than a second deliberating. He should just tell his friend, who was going to find out in any case, so he might as well have done with it. ‘I drove Alton's daughter in Hyde Park yesterday.'

‘Before I commence rejoicing, could I just confirm that we are referring to Alton's elder daughter?' asked Cole carefully.

‘Cole, you should know me well enough to know that I am no degenerate with an interest in young girls. Of course I refer to Lady Alethea. She
is
the one you proposed I should form an attachment to, is she not?'

His friend flashed him a beaming smile. ‘I told you that you would suit, didn't I? Didn't I?' he repeated excitedly. ‘Something about her must have sparked your interest. Ha!' James raised his eyebrows when Cole rubbed his hands in glee. ‘How marvellous! I think I might have discovered a heretofore hidden talent for matchmaking.'

‘Good Lord,' muttered James.

‘So, tell me, what happened on the drive?' asked Cole, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

James shrugged. ‘I went to Alton's residence, we drove to the park, a brief conversation was had, and then I proceeded to drive her home.'

‘What exactly did you talk about? No, wait, let me hazard a guess – the weather?'

‘Why ever would you presume to think we would discuss the weather?' Damn Cole and his insight.

The doctor gave him a patient look. ‘James, you might be skilled in a number of areas, but conducting casual conversation is not one of your strengths.' He gave a thoughtful frown. ‘It could be related to your lack of giftedness in languages.'

‘I am comforted in the knowledge that I can always count on you to make sure I never become too enamoured of myself and my supposed accomplishments,' said James dryly. ‘Fine. We conversed about the weather. And I enquired about the health of the members of her family.' Which the lady in question had turned into a subject of amusement, much to his relief. He had found her wittiness extremely becoming. As for the last statement that she had uttered?
That
had caused a bolt of arousal to travel through him. It was fortunate that she had left when she had. Not that he would have hauled her up to him for a kiss. He had more discipline than that. He was a Cavendish, after all, and he possessed the famous Cavendish self-control. Catherine had even jeeringly referred to it as unnatural. But the very proximity of Lady Alethea had been extraordinarily provocative.

‘Good Lord.' Cole shook his head in resignation. ‘I oft-times wonder how you manage to speak so persuasively in the House of Lords.'

‘That is a completely different kettle of fish.'

‘Of course it is. When you are in Parliament you are surrounded by a bunch of pompous old men, whereas here you are with a young lady who isn't a simpering, empty-headed young miss and who, by all accounts, is a diamond of the first order.'

James formed a steeple with his fingers. ‘I have to disagree.'

Cole's eyebrows lifted up. ‘You do?'

‘I do.' James's mouth curved up into a rare smile. ‘She's not a diamond at all. A diamond is icy and hard; soulless. No, if Lady Alethea were a precious gem, she would be a ruby. There is a fire in her soul which lights her up from within. An addictive warmth that draws me to her against my will.' He stopped abruptly when he realised what he had unintentionally revealed. James looked at his companion, who bore a startled expression.

‘James. Well.' Cole blinked once, before a grin broke out on his face. ‘Do try not to be alarmed, Your Grace. Because I believe that Lady Alethea has you enthralled. Best be on your guard, my friend, or you will find yourself betrothed before the season is over.'

‘What a bag of moonshine, Cole. I have no idea how it is possible that you can utter such nonsense while you are in possession of that supposedly brilliant brain of yours. Now cease discussing my personal affairs immediately; Bainbury is approaching.' James had never been more relieved in his life to see the young viscount approach, notwithstanding that Bainbury's conversational abilities usually drove the duke close to pulling his hair out by the roots. His unexpected attraction to the Duke of Alton's daughter was so strong, he was even considering offering for her. A woman who had in the past turned down no fewer than six offers of marriage. But then none of her suitors had been a duke.

And
none
of them had been the Duke of Trent.

‘Ruth!' Alethea beamed as the groomsman helped her friend step up into the town coach.

‘Alethea!'

The two women joined hands and exchanged kisses before Ruth sat down on the seat opposite Alethea.

‘You look a little the worse for wear, Ruth. Is everything all right?' asked Alethea, with some concern at the strained look on her friend's face.

The other woman smiled. ‘Everything is fine. It's just that Henry's mother has come to town for a visit. And you know what she is like.'

Alethea grimaced. ‘Oh dear.' The dowager countess's exacting expectations put even her own mother's to shame. Unfortunately, Ruth's mother-in-law was also cursed with a malicious and bitter tongue. It was a miracle that the earl had reached his majority with not only his manhood, but also his gentle nature intact. ‘You should have told me she was here, Ruth; I would have invited you out every day to keep you away from that ogre.'

The blonde woman laughed. ‘You are surely the best friend anyone could have in the entire world, Thea. But it is not as bad as you fear, I promise.' At Alethea's look of disbelief, Ruth laughed again. ‘All right, she does put a strain on my nerves, but I look upon it as my penance.'

‘Penance? What sins could a sweet and gentle lady such as Ruth Montagne possibly have committed, pray tell?' Alethea cocked her head to one side and gave her companion a challenging look.

Ruth rolled her eyes. ‘I am not the paragon of virtue you seem to think I am. I have employed the occasional harsh word and I certainly have had more than my fair share of unkind thoughts lately.'

Alethea grinned. ‘I wonder whom those unkind thoughts could have been about? They couldn't have been about the dowager countess, could they?' she teased.

‘Hush, Alethea,' retorted her friend, trying to hide a smile. ‘No matter what she is, she is still Henry's mother, and without her, I would not have such a wonderful man as my husband. I must admit it is that thought which sustains me when I experience the urge to throw the nearest vase at her head.'

The brunette burst out in laughter at the incongruity between the sweetness in her childhood friend's tone and the violence in the words uttered. ‘Oh Ruth, whatever would I do without you? I am beyond pleased that Henry agreed to you coming to town for the season. I swear I would have died of boredom if you weren't here.'

‘Nonsense. You have the Dark Duke to entertain you, don't you? I am sure that he is a thousand times more exciting than a childhood friend.' Ruth smiled.

‘Well, he certainly has more effect on my nerves than you do,' admitted Alethea.

Ruth frowned. ‘Did he make you feel uncomfortable during the drive? You didn't mention that before.' Alethea had visited her friend the day after her outing with Trent to tell her the whole story, including the sighting of the dark-haired woman. Ruth had been intrigued by the meeting, but had only made some non-committal reply when Alethea had wondered who the strange woman was.

‘No, it wasn't so much discomfort as a sense of awkwardness between us. Although really, can you blame me? To my recollection Miss Davenport did not explain what a lady should discuss with a gentleman after she falls upon his person.'

‘Since Miss Davenport was three and forty and unmarried, I sincerely doubt that she would have entertained the idea of a lady ever falling on a person of the opposite sex.'

Alethea grinned. ‘That's true. I think her wildest imaginings consisted of a man and a woman having an unchaperoned conversation. The scandal of it!' She put a hand to her mouth, the wide-eyed, shocked expression on her face sending Ruth into peals of laughter.

At that moment, the carriage drew to a stop. ‘Oh, we're here.' They had come to Berkeley Square to take ices at a well-known tearoom there. ‘Here comes the waiter. What would you like, Ruth?'

‘I'll have the strawberry ice, please.'

‘My lady.' The waiter was an anxious-looking young man who sported a very generous sprinkling of freckles. He gave Alethea a quick bow from outside the carriage. ‘What would you care to have today?'

‘We'll have a strawberry ice and the lemon sorbet, please.'

‘Very good, my lady. I shall be back in a trice.' The waiter ran back across the road to fill their order while Alethea looked around at the large number of conveyances parked near them, the occupants similarly waiting. Her drifting gaze came to an abrupt stop when she saw a familiar-looking black barouche parked across the square. In it was the woman with dark hair. To Alethea's surprise, the woman was looking straight at her. Even from this distance, she looked extremely displeased. Alethea quickly looked away, not wanting to be caught staring at a stranger.

‘What is it, Thea?' Ruth frowned in concern. It was only then that Alethea realised that she must have looked unsettled.

‘Oh, nothing. Just . . . remember how I mentioned to you that there was a woman who stared at Trent and me in the park? Well, there she is again – in the black barouche, dressed in dark blue.'

Her friend moved across to sit next to Alethea and glanced outside. ‘What was Trent's reaction when he caught sight of her?' Ruth turned back to look at her.

‘He was clearly displeased. Why? Who is she?'

Ruth bit her bottom lip.

Alethea frowned. ‘Do you know her, Ruth?'

‘No, not exactly. But I believe I know who she might be.'

‘Who?' But even as Alethea asked, the light suddenly dawned.

‘Thea, I'm sorry to say this, but I believe that woman is Trent's mistress.'

Even though Alethea had suspected the truth, the sting Ruth's words caused was startling. She hadn't been aware of the depth of her feelings for the duke. Yes, there was something about him that drew her as no other man ever had, but he was barely more than an acquaintance.

She couldn't help herself. Her eyes wandered outside again to the woman in the blue gown, who was now laughing and flirting openly with the waiter. What was it like, she wondered, to be with a lover such as Trent. To be able to touch him as she pleased, bare her innermost thoughts, share her intimate desires under the cover of the night.

‘Thea? Thea?'

Alethea blinked. ‘Oh, I do beg your pardon. What were you saying?'

Ruth looked concerned. ‘Just that Trent having a mistress doesn't necessarily mean anything. You know that many men have mistresses. It's almost
de rigueur
. And Trent is unmarried. Like other men, he has needs and has to, well . . .' Her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a polite way to end her sentence.

‘Slake his desires?' offered Alethea, holding back a laugh when her fair-haired friend blushed.

‘Alethea!' Ruth rolled her eyes. ‘Why in heaven's name I ever thought that telling you about the marriage bed was a good idea, I do not know.'

‘It was an excellent idea!' laughed Alethea. ‘And if I ever have the opportunity to experience it for myself, I will certainly be sure to pass that information on to Charlotte.'

‘Oh dear. Your future husband is going to kill me,' muttered Ruth.

‘Pish posh. Mother will probably tell me to lie back and think of England. Or perhaps ruminate deeply about which silverware I wish the servants to polish the next day. I adore you for telling me the truth, Ruth.' Alethea reached over and squeezed her friend's hand. ‘Thank you.'