When Seducing A Duke (10 page)

At half past four, Rose excused herself to go change for her outing with Maxwell. Grey watched her go with a clenched jaw. When she returned twenty minutes later in smart outfit of dark green corduroy, large feathered hat, and matching gloves, his teeth ground together. She looked gorgeous, of course. And it was all for Maxwell’s benefit.

He had no right to be jealous, he knew that. Unfortunately, knowing something wasn’t quite the same as feeling it. And a very vocal part of him felt that Rose belonged to him.

“I did not want to leave without saying good-bye,” she said sweetly to his mother and sister. They both loved her, of course. They’d probably still love her even if they knew she’d seduced him.

Yes, because he was so much the wounded party in this case. Taken advantage of by a skilled and dangerous seductress whom he was obviously no match for.

Pull yourself together, Ryeton. You sound like a frigging little girl!

Maxwell arrived right on time, and cheerfully announced by Westford. Grey’s entire face—from his scar to the forced smile he wore—began to ache at the sight of the younger man. Maxwell had to be nine and twenty at best. He was tall and dapper, and just charming enough so as not to seem threatening. It was a part Grey played very well at the same age, only he’d been a wolf masquerading as a harmless spaniel. He wasn’t so sure the same couldn’t be said for Maxwell.

He had no choice but to shake the man’s hand and make small talk before watching him take Rose’s arm and lead her away, both of them smiling like idiots.

No sooner had he sat down and begun to massage his jaw than his mother spoke. “She’s such a darling girl, Lady Marsden.”

Camilla beamed. “She’s been a great comfort to me since my husband’s passing, but then children always are, as I’m sure you’d agree, Your Grace.”

His mother smiled sadly. It had been a decade since Grey’s father passed and he knew his mother still missed him. She always would.

“I do, dear. I do.” She took a sip of tea. “Young Mr. Maxwell would make a very good match.”

Camilla’s lovely face hardened just a little at the mention of Maxwell. Grey could have kissed her. “He was quick to abandon her the last time he courted my daughter, so I will have to reserve judgment until he’s proven himself a changed man, no matter how well I wish to think of him.”

“Very wise,” Grey agreed, ignoring the look his brother slanted toward him.

“A few years can do wonders for a man’s maturity,” Archer remarked.

Grey shrugged. “Or not. Some men simply become overgrown boys and never face the consequences of their actions.”

Archer smiled. “And some blame society and hide like scared mice for the rest of their lives.”

Were they alone Grey might have hit him. But they weren’t alone, and instead of giving into his anger, he was left with having to face how much hearing his brother say such a thing hurt.

Not only hurt, it made him deuced uncomfortable. He didn’t say anything, and rose to his feet when the women began talking again. He walked toward the edge of the terrace, patting Bronte on the shoulder as he walked by. She flashed him a sweet smile, too young and too sheltered to see him for what he was just yet. To her he was her attentive, caring elder brother who liked to tease and spoil her whenever he could.

He did not look forward to the day that she would look at him differently.

Standing on the edge of the flagstones, Grey stared out at the garden sprawling before him.
Perfectly manicured, it boasted several exotic shrubberies and flowers. Statues of gods and goddesses graced the grounds, still and unseeing as they loomed over the stone benches and hedges. He knew every inch of that garden, yet if he closed his eyes he couldn’t conjure a single image. What flooded his mind was the memory of Rose sitting on a blanket on the lawn, reading her naughty book, asking him outrageous questions.

What were she and Maxwell talking about at this moment?

“I owe you an apology.” Archer came to stand beside him, also looking over the garden. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. It was very low of me.”

Grey shrugged. “You’ve said worse.”

“True, but those times I was right.”

He laughed. “I’m not so sure you’re not right now as well.”

“You’re many things, but I’ve never thought coward amongst them.”

“That’s because you’re my younger brother. You’re not supposed to have an accurate opinion of my strengths and weaknesses.”

“And as eldest, I suppose you do have an accurate accounting of my strengths and weaknesses, Tryst as well?”

Grey turned his head with a brash grin. “Only your weaknesses. I haven’t ascertained if you have any strengths yet.”

Thankfully his brother laughed. “Bastard,” he muttered.

“Undoubtedly.” Then, with more seriousness, “I do know your weaknesses, Arch. You’ve a soft spot for a pretty face, especially one you think is in need of rescue.”

Archer scoffed. “I haven’t tried to play anyone’s Lancelot since school.”

“Be that as it may, I feel I should warn you away from Rose.”

His brother stilled, arched a brow, and fixed him with a decidedly superior look. “Is this warning for my benefit or hers? Or perhaps your own?”

Grey frowned. “For the benefit of everyone involved. She doesn’t need you to rescue her, and she’d only marry you because—”

“Because I remind her of you.” He grinned at Grey’s surprise. “Perhaps I do have an accurate understanding after all, brother.”

Grey turned away. “Perhaps you do.”

A hand came down on his shoulder. “Don’t worry yourself. I have no intention of taking advantage of Lady Rose. Even if I did fancy her, I’m not foolish enough to pursue a woman obviously interested in someone else, and I’m too lazy to attempt to change her mind. Maxwell on the other hand…”

The ache in his jaw returned. “As long as he treats her as she deserves, I don’t care. In fact, I wish him all the good fortune in the world.” He could say that and actually mean it. “I promised her father I would see her happily situated. Her happiness is all that matters.”

Archer fixed him with a pitying look. “If that were true, old man, you would have married her already. Maybe you should ask yourself what could possibly be more important than her happiness. I’m fairly certain there’s something, and it certainly isn’t your own.”

Speechless, Grey said nothing as his brother walked away. Instead, he stood and stared once again out into the garden, his fingers tracing the jagged line of his scar.

At five o’clock in the afternoon, the day had lost some of its heat, but the air in Hyde Park smelled of dry dirt, grass, and warm horse—an odor somewhat pleasantly carried on the soft breeze. Ladies wore hats and carried parasols to protect their delicate complexions from tanning, and would continue to do so as long as they were outside before the sun set.

Rose was no exception to this rule. As she leaned back against the cushioned leather seat of Kellan’s vehicle, her face was well shaded by her lacy ivory parasol as well as the brim of her hat. Those and the breeze kept her from being overly warm and she was able to enjoy the ride for the pleasure that it was meant to be.

Rotten Row was crowded, but not so much as it would be at this time of day in another few weeks. It was still early in the Season and not everyone who was anyone had taken up residence in the city as of yet. Soon, however, it would be next to impossible to travel this well-trod path with any degree of haste. Of course, haste was the last thing on the minds of anyone present. The idea of coming to Hyde Park at this hour was to be seen. Haste was not conducive to that goal.

And Rose was more than happy to be seen today. Let everyone present gawk at her and Kellan and whisper what they would. Let them speculate as to whether or not he would renew his suit after several years. Rose did not care. Grey had told her to go out and find herself a husband.

Let it not be said that she was not good at doing what she was told—on occasion. Perhaps Grey would read about her outing in the society pages—if he read the society pages.

Beside her, Kellan sat straight and handsome in his dark brown coat and buff trousers. Not a speck of dust clung to the brim of his beaver hat, or his broad shoulders. His dark eyes were bright, with glints of gold when the sun hit them, and when he smiled at her, he flashed perfect white teeth that Rose envied and she fancied one of hers was rather crooked.

“Shall I assume from your expression that you are having a good time?” he asked as he held the reins confidently and easily in his gloved hands.

Rose smiled back. “I am. Thank you for inviting me.”

Some of his humor faded as he directed his gaze back to the track before them. A gentleman went by them on a beautiful white mount, followed by a lady on a proud gray mare.

When Kellan spoke again, he kept his voice low, so that what he said was heard by her and her alone. “Rose, there is something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.”

Surprise—dismay even—clutched at her heart. Surely he wasn’t going to propose so soon? And not out here in public! No, of course he wasn’t. She was a fool to even think it.

And perhaps an even bigger fool to dread it as she did.

“Of course, Mr. Maxwell. You can say whatever you wish to me.”

“You’ve always been so agreeable,” he remarked with something of a rueful tone. “I don’t understand why you haven’t told me to sod off.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Other than the simple fact that I would never say those words to anyone?”

He glanced at her, eyes sparkling. “Even so. I am humbled by your easy acceptance of me. I behaved abominably toward you years ago and yet you act as though nothing ever happened.”

Rose twirled the handle of her parasol. “We cannot change the past, Mr. Maxwell. I reckon I would be a much happier woman if I could. No, all we can do is go forward.”

His brow furrowed. “Does that mean you forgive me?”

She laughed again. “Yes, it does. I understand why you had to abandon your courtship after my father’s misfortune and I do not blame you for it.”

Kellan shook his head. “You are too good.”

“No,” she insisted with a sharp shake of her head. “I am not.” Lord, if he but knew just how
not
good she could be! Of course, if they were married he’d realize that on their wedding night, wouldn’t he? Or could she deceive him and make him believe she was a virgin? It wouldn’t be right, but she would do it to spare his feelings, and keep her secrets. “But, I can be practical when the situation calls for it.”

“Is that why you’re here with me now?” he asked with amusement. “Practicality?”

Rose’s smile was coy in reply. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I like giving the gossips something to natter about.”

Kellan laughed aloud. “I’ve missed your wit, Rose. You always knew how to make me laugh.”

“Yes.” She twirled her parasol again. “You as well. I’m glad that we are friends again.”

“Friends,” he repeated. “Is that what we are?”

It had been a while since she’d flirted with a man without the benefit of a mask, but she thought she remembered how to do it. “For now.”

They were smiling at each other as they passed beneath the thick shade of trees that lined the track, and Rose felt a stirring of hope in her breast. Her heart wasn’t totally under Grey’s control, and for that she was extraordinarily happy. It was possible for her to enjoy the company and attention of another man. No, she might not trust this man completely, but then she didn’t trust Grey so much anymore either. In fact, she made herself a promise right then and there not to trust any man or his word until he had proven himself worthy.

Trust, like one’s heart, was all too easily given and broken, and she was already tired of the disappointment that followed. Not that her life had been a particularly rough one, but thus far every man she trusted had let her down in one way or another, whether he meant to or not.

“Good day, Lady Rose, Mr. Maxwell.” It was Lady Devane, perched on top of a white Arabian, a spirited gelding that perfectly complimented her blonde hair and blue riding habit. “It is a lovely day, is it not?”

“Good day, Lady Devane,” Rose replied. “It is lovely indeed.”

They made the necessary small talk, there was no way of avoiding it. Thankfully, the older woman directed most of her conversation toward Kellan, a fact that did not escape Rose’s notice. Was it merely that they shared similar taste in men, or did Lady Devane see the entirety of the opposite sex as her own personal banquet?

Kellan, while perfectly polite, did not seem entirely unimpressed by the attention. Of course, what man would be? Lady Devane, while not breathtakingly beautiful, was something even more threatening. Lady Devane was interesting.

“I expect I will see you again soon, Lady Rose.” Long sable lashes fluttered. “And Mr. Maxwell, I do hope I have the pleasure in the near future.”

Rose watched with wry amusement as the woman rode off, her seat as confident as any man’s. Several male heads turned as she rode by. She was simply the kind of woman who drew men to her.

“She’s quite overwhelming, isn’t she?” Kellan remarked with a smile.

Shaking her head, Rose had to agree. “I do believe she was flirting with you.”

He shrugged. “She flirts with every man she meets. It’s just her nature.”

Her nature was not as harmless as he would make it out to be, of that Rose was positive. “Be wary of her, Mr. Maxwell. I would hate to see you…hurt in anyway.”

“Lady Rose, you have more than earned the intimacy of calling me by my Christian name.”

“Perhaps,” she replied with a teasing smile. “But you have yet to earn the intimacy of having me use it.”

Kellan chuckled. “Well put. But tell me, what kind of danger could Lady Devane possibly pose to a gentleman of the world such as myself?”

His tone was light, but Rose could not find humor in the situation. She looked away. “I’m sure I have no idea. It is only woman’s intuition.”

She felt him glance at her. “It is more than that.” He fell silent for a moment. “Dear Lord. Do you mean to say that she…Ryeton?”

Had she been so transparent or was he merely astute? Regardless, Rose’s cheeks burned with the thought of betraying Grey. “I do not know. He has never condemned her in my presence, though I do know he suspects her.”

Kellan muttered something under his breath that sounded profane. Rose wisely did not ask him to repeat it.

“I heard the stories,” he commented. “There was speculation for several months until the scandal died down.”

Rose kept her gaze on the track. She wanted to hear what he knew and yet she didn’t want to know. “I imagine there was.”

“Ryeton had quite a reputation back then. Everyone knew their wives, fiancées, even their daughters weren’t safe around him.”

She closed her eyes. No, she didn’t want to hear this. “Am I to suppose that you believe he deserved what happened?”

“Of course not.” He sounded genuinely affronted. “But then he never set his sights on anyone I held dear.”

“Not that you know of,” she remarked, because she couldn’t help herself.

Kellan actually chuckled. “Well put. But I am grateful—and I think you should be as well—that Ryeton and your father were such good friends. The duke has much respect for you and your mother. I would hate to think of either you or Lady Marsden under the power of such a man if he’d decided to treat you as he did other women.”

“Yes,” Rose agreed, staring fixedly at a tree in the distance. “So would I.”