My Dark Duke (6 page)

‘Well, there's one thing that can be said for the Duke of Trent. If you land him as a husband, you will certainly not be disappointed. He is, I hear, extremely well versed in the art of intimacy. Let me assure you, I have not told you
everything
that occurs between a man and a woman. And that is all I am saying on this subject for now.' Ruth looked smugly satisfied.

‘What —' Alethea started to ask, but was interrupted by the arrival of their waiter. Even after they finished their ices, her friend refused to be drawn into discussing the duke's skills in the bedchamber. Her stubbornness was infuriating. But as no doubt had been Ruth's intent, a seed of curiosity had already been planted.

It was only a matter of time before it yielded its fruit. The question, though, was what form that fruit would take.

Our Hero Enquires About Milly

‘There you go, my lady. Now, don't you look as pretty as a picture?' Martha, Alethea's lady's maid, beamed as she looked upon her mistress.

Alethea inspected her reflection in the mirror. She usually didn't pay much attention to her appearance. As long as she was appropriately dressed and presentable enough to pass her mother's muster – and Martha was more than well versed in carrying out that part of her duties – then Alethea was satisfied.

Tonight, however, was different. All because she was going to see
him
. The duke. It had been a long time since she had put such thought into her attire for a social engagement. She was well aware that she was a fair number of years older than the other single young women who had either just made their debut into society or had only done so in the last season or two. In fact, she wasn't quite sure what it was that the duke saw in her. She knew she was passably attractive with her pale skin, contrasting raven hair and patrician features. But she was tall for a woman, and her height and lean build was the antithesis of the petite, more rounded feminine figures which were the ideal.

The woman in the reflection appeared nervous and Alethea forced herself to take a deep breath, smoothing her hands over the pale blue silk taffeta of her evening gown. The gown was decorated with a cream and blue brocade stomacher and adorned with a simple white ruffle trimmed with a darker shade of blue. The ruffle decorated the square neckline then opened down the front of her gown, trimming the edges of her overskirt. Her hair was powdered and carefully piled high atop her head, and her natural complexion was lightly covered by a film of powder.

She turned to face her maid. ‘Thank you, Martha. You've done a fine job this evening.'

Martha smiled proudly. ‘I am glad you are pleased with the result, my lady. Is it true then that you will be seeing the duke this evening?' Other servants would not have dared ask such a question of her, but Martha had been her maid since Alethea was fifteen. She knew Alethea better than Alethea's mother ever would. She also loved Alethea like her own daughter, and Alethea loved her just as much.

‘I believe so, Martha.'

‘Well, he may be a duke and have more money than the king himself, but he's still a man, my lady. You had best be on your watch around him. As I've always said to you, a man is sure to take advantage of you if any opportunity comes his way.'

Alethea was about to disagree when she remembered the almost-kiss in the library at her godfather's residence. Who knew what would have occurred if the door had not slammed the moment it did, breaking the spell between them? ‘Yes Martha, I haven't forgotten. Although,' she said as she turned to leave her bedchamber, a mischievous smile on her face, ‘perhaps
I
will be the one who takes advantage of His Grace.'

‘The poor duke,' muttered Martha, shaking her head as her charge left the room, laughing gaily as she did so. ‘He has no earthly idea what he is in for if he means to court this girl. The poor fellow.'

Alethea stepped through the front door of the Earl and Countess of Guildford's town house behind Charlotte and her mother. Upon entering the large salon, she immediately cast her gaze about the large group of guests milling about at the outer areas of the room, as a number of rows of chairs were situated in the middle. Although she recognised most of the attendees, she did not see the duke. It was only then that she realised she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly, smiling and nodding at acquaintances as she followed the duchess, who was forging ahead through the crowd, clearly with a destination in mind. A smile curved Alethea's mouth when she saw who her mother was headed for. It was her godparents, Arthur and Pamela Rossiter.

‘Uncle Arthur! Aunt Pamela!' Alethea exchanged kisses with the couple and Charlotte followed suit.

‘Alethea, my dear, let me have a look at you.' Pamela gazed at her and smiled approvingly. ‘I vow you are more beautiful each time I see you.'

Alethea laughed. ‘Aunt Pamela, you are much too kind. I doubt Mother would agree.'

‘Well, I agree with Pamela,' interjected the earl before the duchess could reply. ‘So I believe your mother is outnumbered on this particular topic.'

‘And you, Uncle Arthur, are the biggest flatterer of all. Aunt Pamela had best keep an eye on you this evening with so many ladies in attendance,' teased Alethea.

‘Alethea, do watch your tongue,' admonished the duchess as she opened her fan and looked around the room.

Alethea shared a look of amusement with her godparents. She had spent so much time with them from childhood to adulthood that she considered them more family than friends.

‘Charlotte, sweetheart, tell me what you have been up to since attending our ball last week.' The countess drew the younger Sinclair aside and the duchess joined in the conversation, leaving Alethea free to converse with her godfather.

‘So, my dear godchild, what is this I hear about you and Trent gallivanting about Hyde Park earlier this week?' The earl looked at her, a twinkle in his eye.

Alethea felt her cheeks warm. ‘You heard about that?'

‘Oh yes, my dear. I'm sure everyone heard. From those who actually saw the event. It was reported that Trent actually smiled, a miracle in itself. Is that true?'

She narrowed her eyes at the look of amusement on her godfather's face. ‘And what if it is?' Surely an expression of something other than utmost seriousness on the duke's face had not engendered such gossip.

‘If it is, then I am very glad to hear it, indeed. It is extremely pleasing news. And very interesting indeed.'

Alethea frowned. ‘I'm not sure what you mean, Uncle Arthur.'

‘Alethea, you may not realise it, but Trent has not courted anyone since his wife's passing five years ago. In fact, he has not even shown a particle of interest in any lady except . . .' The earl hesitated, a vague look of discomfort appearing on his face.

The brunette smiled at his unintended references to the duke's mistresses. ‘It's all right, I know what you mean.'

A serious expression appeared on his face. ‘Alethea, I am sure that you must have heard the rumours surrounding Trent's past. And before you ask, no, I do not know what actually transpired, but I have known Trent for three years now. He may appear cold and indifferent at times, but he is a man of honour and integrity. I do not believe that he had a hand in his wife's death, no matter what rumours are circulating. My dear, you know that I love you like my own flesh and blood. I would not have introduced you to the duke if I believed that he was at all unworthy of you.'

Alethea swallowed the emotion that had caused her throat to thicken. She reached out and squeezed the earl's hand. ‘I know, Uncle Arthur. You have always had my well-being in mind, and I thank you for that.'

He gave her hand an answering squeeze. ‘Now, very quickly, while your mother is still preoccupied,' he uttered in a low voice, ‘I was wondering if you might be interested in attending some lessons with a fencing tutor I met while I was in Italy last month. His name is Giuseppe diMarco and when I saw how talented he was, I managed to persuade him to come to London to teach for the season.'

Her eyes widened with suppressed excitement. ‘That would be wonderful! I would
love
to learn from an Italian master. I adore Monsieur Jousse, as you know, and I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I think I have learnt all that I can from him now and it would be an incredible opportunity to be able to learn the Italian method as well as the French. Oh, thank you, Uncle Arthur!'

‘You're most welcome, my pet. I can't let this opportunity slip you by, especially since you are one of the most gifted fencers I know. I only know of one other person whose skill comes anywhere close to yours.'

Alethea shook her head in laughter. ‘There you go again, flattering me.'

‘I never flatter, my dear. I speak but the truth.' He looked up and a smile appeared on his countenance. ‘Ah, I believe the person you have been waiting for has arrived.'

Alethea felt her heart thud heavily in her chest as she turned her gaze towards the entrance to the salon. A hush fell over the room as everyone present looked up at the same time at the new arrivals. Trent walked in and was immediately greeted by the Countess of Guildford, who then introduced him to a number of other guests.

At any other time Alethea would have been captivated by her first sight of the man with his hair dressed and powdered. But not tonight. She had only just felt the first pang of anticipation when she noticed the woman on his arm. She was young, eighteen at the most, blonde and petite, with porcelain skin evident even under her powdered complexion. Alethea felt her heart sink at the sight.

Who was she? And if Trent already had his future bride in his sights, why had he even bothered to take her on that drive? Turmoil seized her, but try as she might, she was unable to tear her eyes away from the handsome couple at the other side of the salon: him, tall and masculine; her, fragile and petite as she clung tightly to his arm.

Suddenly, her godfather's voice sounded in her ear. ‘Calm yourself, my dear; I am sure it is not what it seems.'

Alethea desperately wanted to believe the earl, but before the newly arrived couple had traversed the width of the room, their hostess announced that it was time for the performance to begin, and requested that the guests take their seats.

Casting one last glance in the direction of the duke, Alethea was about to turn away when he looked directly towards her, his dark eyes piercing her forced composure as easily as a knife through soft butter. She wasn't sure what happened next; perhaps she unintentionally revealed her emotions, for she saw his eyes narrow and a frown appear on his brow. Her mother's voice intruded and she looked away, feeling her heart beating at a heightened rate merely from meeting the duke's gaze.

‘Alethea, come along now, quickly. We need to obtain seats with a good view. I have heard such great reviews of Mademoiselle Gautier.'

As Alethea trailed obediently behind the duchess, she could feel Trent's eyes following her progress. Despite telling herself repeatedly that she was just being fanciful and more than a little silly, for she was no naïve young girl after all, she could not dispel the feeling that his gaze was fixed upon her for the full length of the accomplished soprano's performance, so intensely aware was she of him.

‘Thea, don't look now but I believe your duke is approaching us,' murmured Charlotte, placing her fork down on the small table and dabbing the corner of her mouth with her napkin.

If Trent had not been practically upon them, Alethea would have praised her younger sister for her composure. For someone so young, Charlotte was a remarkably well-composed and calm young woman. Her sister was the changeling in a family of forceful characters. She was soft-spoken, gentle and, most of all, did not fly off the handle at the slightest provocation like the rest of the family. Even though Alethea was closer to Marcus, she still loved her sister dearly. As Alethea watched the duke walk towards her, she couldn't help but wonder whether her brother would disapprove of Trent.

The duke arrived and both women stood up and curtsied as he bowed to them. His female companion also curtsied politely. For the first time that evening, Alethea noticed a matronly woman dressed in black who stood with them.

The duke spoke first. ‘Lady Alethea, Lady Charlotte, may I present my cousin's daughter, Lady Antonia Weaver. This is her first season and as her mother is ill, I agreed to escort her this evening. This is her companion, Mrs Davies,' he said, indicating the older woman.

Alethea's eyes shot up to his as relief swept through her. His expression was polite, but his eyes were focused intently on her, as if he were searching for some sign as to what she was feeling. She quickly turned to the young lady, smiling reassuringly when she saw the nervousness on the latter's face. ‘Lady Antonia, how pleased I am to make your acquaintance. This is my sister, Charlotte, with whom you already have something in common. It is Charlotte's first season too.' She turned to the woman standing slightly behind Antonia. ‘Mrs Davies.'

Charlotte smiled easily at the young lady. ‘Lady Antonia, please, come, sit by me. You must tell me who your mantua maker is. Your gown is magnificent.'

Antonia looked at Trent, seeking his permission, and when he nodded, smiled shyly at Charlotte and went to sit beside her. Mrs Davies followed them, and took a seat on the far side of the young ladies.

The duke waited for Alethea to be seated at the table before situating himself next to her. The table, one of many in the supper room, was small, and Alethea was close enough to him to smell the faint scent of cigars mixed with the pleasant fragrance of sandalwood and mint.

‘Are you —'

‘So —'

Both of them stopped abruptly when they realised they had spoken at the same time. Alethea felt her unruly heart skip a beat at the warmth in his dark eyes.

‘I beg your pardon,' said the duke in a low voice. ‘Please, what were you about to say?'

She moistened her suddenly dry lips at the smoothly dark sound of his deep baritone. ‘I was just wondering if you were going to take some food for Lady Antonia and yourself.' She congratulated herself on the steadiness of her voice.

‘I will do so shortly. I wanted to first introduce Antonia to you both.' His gaze never left hers and although he left it unspoken, she knew that he had wanted her to know the truth of his relationship with his younger relative. The thought gladdened her.

‘I am . . . happy to be in your company again, Your Grace.' She wasn't sure what else to say, her nerves in a jangle at the single-minded attention he was giving her.

‘Merely happy? Not ridiculously overjoyed or utterly overwhelmed with excitement?'