The Heart of a Duke (3 page)

It was frustrating, and more than a bit
disheartening.

Strolling through the crush, Elle and Valera
paused to allow a trio of young bucks to push their ways past, most
likely looking for partners. One of the gentlemen's gazes landed on
her, assessing, and he flashed her an approving grin.

Elle narrowed her eyes at him, and tugged her
friend in the opposite direction.

Valera looked over her shoulder at
the young men as Elle towed her along. "
Some
of us are here to catch
husbands, Eleanore. You might allow a girl a moment to attempt such
an endeavor."

"Believe me, dear heart, I have two older
brothers and that man did not have courtship on his
mind."

"Perhaps with the right lady—"

"No."

"You are most likely correct." Her friend
peeked at the young man once more before the crowd swallowed him,
her expression wistful. "Truly, I don't think you understand how
fortunate you are to have had your future husband well in hand by
the time you gained your legs. For the rest of us poor girls, it's
catch as catch can."

Elle caught her frown before it formed. It was
too humiliating to admit her relationship with Langley was just the
opposite of what all her friends imagined.

"Don't be silly. The Season has barely
begun."

As the daughter of a wealthy landowner, Valera
Bell was in no danger of remaining unmarried. If she could move
past her shyness and silly notion of inferiority when compared to
her older sister, that was. Personally, Elle thought Valera’s
sister was more than a bit vulgar in her constant preening, and it
was a shame Val felt overshadowed by her.

She gave her friend's arm an affectionate swat
while searching the room for her betrothed. "There is plenty of
time, Val, and I have every confidence that you will find the
perfect gentleman."

Once Elle became the Duchess of
Langley, she intended to throw the entire weight of her title
behind her friends to ensure they made the matches they desired
most. To ensure
they found love, at least.
She touched the pendant again, then dropped her hand as it met cold
metal. Love may not be in her future, but she'd like something more
than seeing her husband for an hour over supper each evening for
chilled and polite discourse. More than spending weeks apart and
not even noticing the other's absence, like her parents, or only
noticing each other when there was something to argue about, as her
aunt and uncle always did.

Just
more
.

And blast it all, she wanted to
dance.

Langley was her betrothed and yet it had not
occurred to him to ask for her dance card even once in the past
three hours. It was always thus with him. He wasn't mean-spirited,
but merely forgot she was there. Or even existed.

A small sigh escaped her.

Val cut her a curious sideways glance, and
Elle straightened as her gaze searched the room, not meeting her
friend's eyes. “Ah, there is the duke. I imagine he is wondering
where I’ve been.” Elle did have a reputation to maintain, even
among her friends. Everyone thought she and Langley were the
perfect match. She could not bear it if they knew the
truth.

Langley was across the room chatting with Lord
Markham, and Elle gently altered her course to steer her friend
toward them.

Regardless of the lackluster state of their
relationship, Langley was her betrothed and she really wanted to
waltz. Lord knew if she attempted it with any man but her intended,
Mama would need the smelling salts.

Well, it was time to remind the duke that his
future bride would require a tad more effort than the affection he
showed his hounds. As Elle made her way toward Langley, he glanced
up and saw her, his chocolate colored eyes crinkling at the edges.
She smiled in return. Maybe she was being too hard on him. With his
ducal responsibilities, his lack of attention could be nothing more
than the result of his busy schedule.

She hoped, as always, for her
pulse to quicken at his nearness or flutters in her stomach at the
sight of his lean, muscular frame. There
was
a nice warming in the vicinity
of her chest, but her second glass of champagne might be
responsible.

"Good evening, Lord Markham. Duke." Elle
nodded to the gentlemen, who made room for the pair of ladies to
join them with courteous bows. "We have had the most lovely turn
about the room, but I find myself restless still. I believe they
will play a waltz next. I do so love to waltz."

Her less than subtle hint had Langley's brows
raising, and he turned to his friend with a wry smile. "I see that
my time for conversation has grow quite short, all of a sudden.
Shall we continue our discussion tomorrow at the club?"

Lord Markham inclined his head, offering his
arm to Elle's friend, who accepted with pinkened cheeks. "And I
shall see the delightful Miss Bell back to her chaperone, if she
will allow me the honor."

"Of course, my lord," murmured Valera, her
cheeks a dark pink. Elle smiled in encouragement as the pair moved
off.

If Val would merely
speak
to him, Lord
Markham might realize he was missing out on a perfectly good
opportunity to dance with one of the most charming ladies in
attendance.

The duke cleared his throat, and Elle returned
her attention to him as he tipped his head toward the dance floor.
She took the arm he held out, and as they assumed their places
among the crowd, studied him from under her lashes.

A dark evening coat that fit snugly over his
fit frame, shined Hessians, and an expertly tied cravat created the
image of a man well aware of his vaunted position in society. Elle
had never seen the duke in anything less than high quality,
tailored perfection since he gained his letters from
Eton.

Not that she had seen him all that often. This
Season was the first time in years that several months hadn't
separated their meetings.

In one month, they would be married and yet
she knew nothing more personal about him than he now preferred
cologne with a hint of orange and spice in it. As his betrothed, it
was unseemly that she could not say how he preferred his tea, or if
he enjoyed fish or meat more. Elle didn't even know his favorite
color. It seemed like a woman should know those things about the
man she was to marry.

There were other things a wife
should know about her husband too, preferences of a more carnal
nature, and Elle was beginning to wonder if she'd ever uncover
those as well. Or even if she wanted to, considering. Having two
older brothers and several married friends, she was well aware
there
could
be
passion between a man and a woman.

But the way he was held her
stiffly at arm's length, it was clear she wouldn't discover if they
had passion together before their wedding. How could she know
if
she
desired
him
, if he never touched her more than was strictly necessary?
Why, he hadn't ever even attempted to steal a kiss! It did not bode
well for their future as a couple, in her mind.

Elle's brows drew down as they moved around
the ballroom, her skirts belling out as they twirled to the
waltz.

"Are you well, Lady Eleanore?" Langley's deep
voice rumbled near her ear, but there was not a drop of sensuality
in his words, only polite inquiry.

Blast it all.

"
Quite.
" Clearing her throat, Elle
softened her tone. Honey was more effective than vinegar in
dealings with the opposite sex, Mama always said. "I am well, your
Grace. Merely thinking of all there is to do tomorrow before
setting out for Brookdale. Thank you for the invitation. Mama and I
have been looking forward to it for weeks."

"Of course. I could never hold a house party
and not invite my betrothed."

Ah, so he
did
recall their status as a couple.
Unfortunately, it sounded less like he wanted her there and more
like a duty to be born with a stiff upper lip.

"Mother was quite insistent that you be
there,” Langley continued, blithely unaware that he was insulting
her with each careless word. “She insisted people would gossip if
you stayed behind in London, though I think it would be preferable
in your position. I myself find such parties a waste of my time and
resources, but Society expects certain things from a duke, do they
not?"

"They do. Obligations can
be
such
a burden,
but one does as one must." Her reply was ground out from between
teeth clenched in a wide smile, but the duke didn't seem to
notice.

He was staring over her shoulder, and when she
twisted her head around to look, she spied the duke's cousin
standing at the edge of the dance floor. Jacob Farrish, Langley's
first cousin, closest friend, and bane of her existence, raised one
hand in a two-fingered salute to the duke. Langley nodded, swung
her around one last time, and then bowed as the final notes of the
waltz faded away.

Elle dipped into a shallow curtsey, attempting
to hide her resignation. One short waltz was all she'd get from him
this evening. "Thank you, Your Grace, for a lovely
dance."

"Not at all, my dear, not at all." Langley
bobbed his head pleasantly, but his absent expression said his mind
had already vacated the room ahead of his body. In truth, it was a
wonder he had lasted this long. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must
be off."

"Of course." Her murmur was lost in the crowd
as the duke nodded a final time and strode toward the front hall
before the words had even passed from her lips.

Stopping next to his cousin, the
two men exchanged words, Jacob's expression hardening as he
repeatedly shook his head. The duke clapped him on the shoulder
with a smile a hundred times more charming than any he had ever
directed
her
way,
then strode off.

Jacob glanced across the room, and their eyes
clashed. Elle turned away with a sniff. Once again, the duke had
left his watchdog behind, while he hurried off to do... whatever it
was he did to avoid being around her.

Elle straightened her gloves, determined to
hide her hurt feelings, and glanced around for her mother or
Valera. But neither was to be found in the crush of people crowded
into the ballroom to dance and gossip.

"Lady Eleanore. All alone? How
unusual."

Elle bit back a startled gasp as Jacob
materialized beside her, seemingly out of nowhere. She narrowed her
eyes at his quip, unmoved by the toothy grin he directed her
way.

"For a moment only, I assure you. My dance
card is full, so if you will excuse me..." She turned away,
dismissing him with a curtness born of years of strife between
them. If the duke had no interest in her, it must be in large part
Jacob's fault. His cousin always stood between them, acting as
Langley's rear guard whilst the duke slipped away. How could he
possibly form any sort of attachment to her with such a loyal
barrier in place?

Even now, Jacob stayed so that the duke was
free to go, taking his place as her escort.

She intended to leave then, but he snagged her
wrist before she could take more than a step. Lifting it as if he
were to press a kiss to the back of her hand, he thumbed through
the dance cards that dangled from a red ribbon. Mashing her lips
together, determined not to make a scene, Elle studied the top of
his bent head.

It was truly tragic that lovely copper curls,
eyes that couldn't decide if they were spiced ginger or a mossy
green, and a long, lean frame hid the heart of a stone
gargoyle.

Jacob straightened, a lazy smile playing about
his lips. A smile that did interesting things to her insides, even
when she knew better. She snatched her hand free.

"I'm loathe to tell you that your next dance
partner, Lord Delphy, has left the party, having given himself an
aching stomach by eating masses of those tiny cakes on the
refreshments table." The edges of his eyes crinkled in sly
merriment, as though he relished revealing this bit of news. "He's
never been one for restraint, our beloved Delphy."

"It does not sound as though you loathe to
tell me, Mr. Farrish," she said, annoyed to have lost her excuse to
escape his company. Her evening had been disappointing enough
without having to spar with the duke's devilish cousin. "It almost
sounds as if you are trying to contain your glee. And failing
badly, I might add."

"Sheath your claws, kitten. After
all, I just saved you the embarrassment of wandering the room,
looking for your absent dance partner." Placing one hand upon his
chest with a flair for drama, Jacob leaned in. "Think of how it
would have appeared to everyone. Lady Eleanore,
abandoned
. How very sad. Legions
would weep to hear of it."

There were times she just wanted to punch him
right in the nose. He was lucky she was a lady.

"I cannot convey my gratitude effectively,"
she said.