The Heart of a Duke (46 page)

“
Don’t let that become known to
the marriage-minded mamas. They’ll hunt you down, if only to
guarantee their daughters marry soon.” Brooky broke into a
pantomime, prancing about on his toes, his wrist limp, and spoke in
falsetto. “Your Grace, pardon me, but would you please gaze upon my
daughter? This is her third season…”

Langley bit back a smile as he picked up his
mallet and considered joining the others. “Why aren’t they hunting
me down now? Everybody knows I’m in need of a wife. I’m handsome,
I’m exceedingly wealthy—”

“
And you are remarkably humble
about your better qualities.”

“
I do sound like a pompous arse,
don’t I?” Langley chuckled. “It truly astounds me I am unable to
find a lady who’ll consider marrying me.”

“
Perhaps you need to look at a
broader group of ladies.”

Grunting, Langley paced a few steps closer to
where his guests played. “I shouldn’t need to after this week.
Mother’s guest list included the finer families of her
acquaintance, and she even suggested to a few of her friends they
were welcome to bring additional young ladies for the
week.”

A mousy stick of a girl chased her wooden ball
nearby as it careened out of bounds. When it came to rest beside a
tree, she leaned one arm on the trunk and appeared to be panting
heavily. Langley motioned in her direction. “I should be able to
approach any young lady here and have her fall at my feet. That
one, for example.”

Taking a stiff-legged stance, the mouse lined
up her mallet, swung, and connected with a protruding tree root.
“Oh, botheration,” she cursed softly, shaking one hand as if the
vibrations from hitting the tree root stung her.

Feeling some sympathy for her lack of skill,
Langley approached her. He heard Pembrook’s footfalls in the grass
behind him as he spoke to the young lady. “Be careful, I wouldn’t
want one of my guests to be injured.”

She jumped when he spoke and spun to face him
with a quick curtsy. “Oh! Duke, forgive my outburst. I didn’t
realize anyone was nearby.”

Langley glanced back to where the others
played, wondering how she’d managed to go so far astray. “I can
understand why. You are quite a distance from the marked lanes.
Have you never played before?”

“
No sir, I haven’t. I spend most
of my time indoors. Mr. Tolliver was a bit overenthusiastic in
knocking my ball aside and it ended up here, as you see.” Her eyes
glimmered with some emotion he couldn’t pin down, and her lips
trembled.

If he didn’t know better, he might assume she
was flirting with him. Given her average appearance—her brown hair
swept up stylishly enough but the loose curls were already falling
flat, her smallish eyes and pale complexion—he doubted she’d had
the opportunity to practice any of the womanly arts. The light in
her eyes and the innocent, sweet smile improved her looks, but she
could easily be overlooked in a ballroom filled with Diamonds of
the First Water.

Brooky reached for the girl’s mallet. “A young
lady is expected to display well in the drawing room, Langley, not
out in the fields.” His sympathetic tone chastised Langley for not
recognizing this.

The girl’s lips parted in a smile that warmed
her coloring and brightened her eyes even more. Langley caught his
breath at the instantaneous change. She was perfect for his needs.
Perfectly plain, so long as she didn’t smile, and not apt to be
swept away by some other man while she remained at Hawking Hall.
Given that his mother had invited her here, she must be a suitable
match. He offered what he hoped was his most charming expression.
“Forgive me, but I do not recall your name.”

“
Lady Charlotte Griffith,
sir.”

He heard her name and stepped back. Could this
situation become any more awkward? Just last month he’d come within
a straw’s breadth of proposing to her sister, Lady Alison. But
since he hadn’t actually proposed it wouldn’t be terribly gauche of
him to pursue the younger sister. Playing the part of the charming
suitor, he bowed. “I am at your service, my lady. Would you care
for some assistance?”

She blinked, then took her mallet back from
Brooky and handed it to Langley. “If you wish.”

Lining up a shot to ricochet off another tree,
thereby putting her at least half the distance to the playing
field, Langley hit the ball. “There we are. Now, Lady Charlotte,
tell me something about yourself. You look very young. Are you out
in Society?”

“
I am eighteen, sir, and came out
this past Season.”

“
And are you
betrothed?”

“
No sir.” Her hand flew to the
pendant around her neck, pressing the small gold heart in the
less-than-ample valley between her breasts, the tops of which were
bared by the décolletage of her gown. Her slender figure made her
youth all the more apparent, but he couldn’t nitpick every detail
about the girl.

“
How disappointed you must be to
not have been swept off your feet in your very first Season. I
believe we can be of assistance to each other.”

Brooky cleared his throat.
“Langley…”

“
Strictly honorable, old boy,
strictly honorable.” He held out his arm to Lady Charlotte. “Shall
we walk?”

Her fingertips trembled through the fabric of
his sleeve, making him feel as though he led a lamb to slaughter.
“Do I frighten you?”

“
No sir. Well, only a little,
sir.” Again she toyed with the heart on the chain.

“
I assure you I am perfectly
harmless.”

“
I know you are. Lady Eleanore
talked about you often. And Father mentioned you chose not to
propose to my sister because you could see she was in love with
another man.”

“
Did he? I suppose that’s the
truth of it.” He was fully aware of how chivalrous he’d been, as
much as it irritated him to admit he’d set his own goal aside for
someone else’s sake, thereby putting himself even more behind
schedule. He wasn’t a heartless cad. While love was a fine
aspiration for those who believed in it, it wasn’t a requirement
for him. “You’re aware I am looking for a wife.”

Her head came up and she stared wide-eyed at
him, as if she’d ascertained the direction of his thoughts. “Yes
sir. It’s widely known.”

Langley continued to study Lady Charlotte. She
gave the impression of one very naive in the ways of men and women.
She would likely spend the next few years attending assemblies and
London soirées, gaining a bit of Town polish. Perhaps he should do
the kind thing and pass her by. But he had a schedule to keep, and
he hated being late for anything.

At some point over the years since his
betrothal to Lady Eleanore, their mothers had chosen June as the
perfect month for the wedding, and since this year Langley would
turn thirty, he’d agreed this past June was the perfect date. But
it hadn’t come to pass. He gritted his teeth. He was still
determined to marry before his thirtieth birthday, so his mother
had come up with the idea to invite all these people to his estate.
All he needed now was to have one of the young ladies agree to
become his bride.

He hadn’t been very particular in his search,
since Mother was likely to mold whichever woman he chose into a
duchess in her own likeness, which suited his needs adequately.
Lady Charlotte seemed even more malleable than the others he’d
considered of late. The longer he looked at her, the more her
subtle, blossoming beauty beckoned. Perhaps he’d been harsh with
his first reaction to her looks. A few added pounds would soften
the sharper planes of her face. Her eyes sparkled with humor, the
most attractive quality in his book. Yes, Lady Charlotte would be
the perfect wife.

Charlotte stumbled on a tuft of grass and
grasped Langley’s arm to keep from falling. She couldn’t take her
eyes off the duke even long enough to watch her step.

She laughed silently. She was certain he was
about to propose. Until a moment ago, Langley wasn’t aware she
existed. He had to ask her name. That fact alone proved she was
correct in her uncertainty about having come.

The first time she’d seen Langley while
visiting Lady Eleanore’s family some years back, she’d considered
him the most handsome man of her acquaintance. He was so gallant.
Some boys had put a girl’s doll up a tree and Langley had climbed
up to rescue it. He could have ordered a groom or gardener to fetch
it, but he didn’t. He’d tugged off that tailored coat, rolled up
his sleeves, and jumped for a low branch.

When he was once again on the ground and
handed the damp-faced girl her doll, Charlotte had sighed at the
romance of the entire event. As he was betrothed to Elle at the
time, Charlotte had decided to find a man just like the Duke of
Langley for her own husband, but secretly imagined his face on that
dreamy beau.

Another stumble forced her to look down where
she walked. She was clumsy even at the best of times, and there was
no hope for grace when she kept staring at the duke. When she’d
heard he and Elle weren’t to be married, she’d thought perhaps
she’d be the lucky one to catch his eye. Watching him come so close
to proposing to not only her sister, but also all her dearest
friends, she realized he was completely unaware of her
existence.

There were now at least a dozen marriageable
misses visiting Hawking Hall. Only one reason came to mind why he
had singled her out. It had to be the pendant. She touched it again
and wondered if there really was magic bestowed on the necklace.
That gypsy girl was right, at least for one of the five of
them.

When the gypsy had first sold the necklace to
Elle with a promise it would lead to the heart of a duke, Charlotte
thought it only fitting her friend took possession. Langley was
Elle’s duke, after all, right up until the moment when Elle fell in
love with Mr. Farrish. The necklace had been passed from one friend
to the next in their little circle, and when Charlotte’s sister
Alison became engaged to Jonathan rather than Langley, she had
given the pendant to Charlotte in hopes she’d be the one to finally
capture the heart of the duke.

Even then, before the invitation had come to
visit Hawking Hall, Charlotte was no longer certain she wanted the
necklace or the duke. She’d always dreamed of marrying for love,
not because she was the last apple in the bushel.

Langley’s declaration that he could make any
young lady fall at his feet rang through her thoughts, tossing a
wet cloth over whatever remained of her romantic feelings toward
the man. The words stung her to her very soul. It was very true in
her case she might easily fall for him—quite literally if she
didn’t watch her step—so she steeled herself for what he might
say.

Chewing her lip, she looked at the bright red
wooden ball lying in the grass. She must be strong and not be
swayed by pretty words.

“
Here we are,” Langley said,
removing his arm from her grasp. He handed her the mallet and
stepped behind her.

Before she could turn to see where he was
headed, she felt the warmth of him standing oh, so close behind
her. Much too close. She shivered when the superfine wool of his
coat brushed against the bare skin of her upper arms. He reached
around her and grasped the mallet below her hands. It was nearly
impossible to focus on the ball with her heart pounding so
loudly.

“
Now, we’ll hit it a bit harder
than normal to bring you back into play.” He guided her arms as he
swung the mallet and connected with the ball. His entire person
wrapped around her when they reached the peak of their arc, then he
let go and stepped to one side, still standing scandalously close.
Close enough his exotic scent filled the air around her.

She dared a glance at his face and warmed at
his gentle smile. The sun threw highlights into his wavy hair,
letting her see it was dark brown, not black as she’d imagined. His
eyes were framed by dark brows, fine lines in the corners showing
he smiled more than he let on. Charlotte’s lips quivered as they
stretched into an answering smile. “Thank you, sir. I believe I
shall be able to finish the match on my own.”

Langley motioned toward the rest of the
players, who were returning their mallets to the footmen. “I
believe the match has ended. Perhaps tomorrow we can play
again.”