When Seducing A Duke (5 page)

He had his pride, after all.

“You simply have to try some of this cake.”

Rose knew better than to argue with her friend Eve, so she obligingly opened her mouth and allowed her friend to deposit a bite of soft, chocolaty goodness inside. She would have to eat light at supper that night or she really wouldn’t fit into any of her gowns.

“Mmm,” she agreed as the cake melted on her tongue. “That’s divine.” They were on the terrace of Eve’s family’s London townhouse. The Viscountess Rothchild held a tea at this time every year to celebrate the opening of the Season. It was barely two weeks into May, but her lawn and terrace were awash with ladies of all ages in prettily-colored day gowns and lacy parasols twirling under the midday sun.

“I might have to help myself to another slice,” her friend allowed with a sigh. Blonde with ivory skin and cornflower blue eyes, Eve had the delicate grace of a spring lily and the determination of an oak in a storm.

Rose eyed her shapely friend in disbelief—and a little envy. “If I ate like you I’d weigh twenty stone.”

Eve set the empty plate aside and dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “It’s only because Mama watches everything I put in my mouth when we’re alone. She hardly lets me eat a thing.”

Looking around the gathering of chatting ladies and gentlemen, Rose easily spotted Lady Rothchild laughing with her mother, who looked like a black orchid amongst a field of bright spring blossoms. “Won’t she notice how much you eat today?”

Her friend licked a spot of chocolate off her lip. “She’s too busy being hostess. Besides, if she asks I’ll say I’m getting it for you.”

Rose laughed. “Just like the time you got caught with two of your father’s cheroots?”

Eve’s patrician nose wrinkled. “Nasty things. And you got into far less trouble than I would have had I told the truth.”

That was true, though she didn’t voice it aloud. Eve’s mother was something of a termagant, always finding fault with her sweet, pretty daughter.

“Then you should go and get another slice of cake before it is all gone.”

Eve rose demurely from her chair and made her way to the sweets table where a livery-clad footman waited to serve her.

Rose took advantage of the time alone to look at all the ladies in their finery. Most had welcomed her warmly when Eve’s mother made introductions. Of course no one would be obviously rude and risk Lady Rothchild’s censure. And despite the scandal clinging to Rose’s past, she was still the daughter of an earl. Her father’s title had been in the family for centuries and was one of the oldest in England.

And there were some who were genuinely overwhelming in expressing their pleasure at seeing her. She renewed a few acquaintances and had invitations to call whenever she wished.

So far her reentrance into society was everything she’d hoped it would be. Of course, the true test would be her first ball. She tried not to think about it, but she hoped it would be all she remembered—all that she dreamed of. Her gown was perfect, the height of fashion, and she looked quite fetching in it if she said so herself. If her dance card wasn’t full, it didn’t matter. So long as she had a few names on it, she would be happy. So very happy.

Even if Grey wasn’t there to dance with her. The realization diminished her enthusiasm.

When Eve returned, Rose realized in horror that she had brought two plates, each with an enormous piece of cake on it!

“Eve,” she groaned. “You want me to get fat, don’t you?”

“Of course not, although knowing you as I do, you would no doubt manage to be pretty even if you did weigh twenty stone.” Her friend forced the plate into her hands. “I want you to be happy. Eat it.”

A wry smile curved Rose’s lips. “Am I to find happiness in a piece of chocolate cake?”

Eve already had a forkful en route to her mouth. “I stake my reputation on it.”

“Oh,” she replied dryly. “Surely heaven is just a bite away.”

“Speaking of heaven,” Eve said a few minutes later when Rose thought she might expire from the bliss the dessert inspired, “tell me about your evening at Saint’s Row.”

“Ssh!” Her paranoid gaze darted around to see if anyone had overheard, but there was no one standing close enough to their whitewashed bench.

“Don’t shush me, Rose Danvers. I’m your best friend and you’ve kept me waiting four whole days! I demand details.”

Cheeks flushed, Rose stared at the half-eaten cake on her plate. Eve’s timing might leave something to be desired, but at least she’d stopped Rose from eating the entire slice.

“What do you want to know?”

Eve’s expression was incredulous. “Everything, of course.” Then, as though realizing who she was talking to, she sighed. “Did you find him?”

Rose nodded. “I did.” The fire in her cheeks burned hotter, and she looked away. “Oh, Eve!”

Her friend grabbed her wrist, clattering fork against plate. “That arse didn’t hurt you did he?”

“No!” Then, lowering her voice, “And he’s not an arse.” Using such rough language made her feel daring and bold.

The scowl on Eve’s face eased. “Then…he was good to you?”

Rose nodded, leaning closer. “It was the most amazing experience of my life.”

The blonde giggled, bringing her head nearer to Rose’s. “Tell me everything.”

So Rose did, within reason, looking up every once in awhile to make sure no one could hear.

Afterward, when she was finished, Eve looked at her with a peculiar expression. “It sounds wonderful.”

“It was.”

Eve’s ivory brow tightened. “So, why do you sound so…disappointed?”

Rose sighed. “It’s going to sound so pathetic, but when I saw Grey the next day he didn’t recognize me.”

“But I thought you didn’t want him to know it was you.”

Rose laughed darkly. “I don’t. That’s the rub of it.” She turned to more fully face her friend. “But part of me wanted him to realize it was me, Eve. I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as his responsibility or burden.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t view you as any such thing.”

Shaking her head Rose set the plate of cake aside, her appetite gone for good. “I thought this scheme would make everything better, and it’s only made things worse.” Worse because her feelings for Grey hadn’t lessened as she’d hoped they might, they’d only deepened.

Eve worried her upper lip with her bottom teeth. “Are you going to meet him again?”

Another shake of her head, vehement this time. “No.”

“But. Rose, he wants to see you.”

“Not me, her.” This was said with a bit more bitterness than Rose was willing to admit. He
might
have whispered her name, but it wasn’t
her
he wanted to meet.

Eve chuckled. “But you are her.” She squeezed her wrist again. “Rose, don’t you see? You’re who he wants to see again, whether he knows it was you or not.”

Rose hadn’t looked at it that way. She wasn’t quite convinced her friend was right, but it was enough to make her doubt her own conclusions. She shook her head again. Blast, but she was making herself lightheaded. “I just don’t know.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Eve allowed. “You always do. Oh my God.”

Rose’s head jerked up at the gasped words. Eve was staring just over her shoulder, eyes wide, mouth agape. Of course she turned to see what had her friend so discomposed.

“Oh my God,” she repeated dumbly as her gaze fell upon the man who had just arrived. He was tall, with thick wavy hair, velvety dark eyes, and a grin that could charm the habit off a nun. Once, a million and a half years ago, she had thought she would be his wife, but then her father lost everything, and the honorable Kellan Maxwell never proposed. She didn’t blame him anymore. After all, no gentleman of standing wanted to marry a penniless young woman whose father’s death was awash in scandal. Kellan was a younger son of an earl with a large fortune and family connections. The match never would have been welcome.

“I can’t believe my mother invited
him,
” Eve remarked hotly. “Rose, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She meant it. “It doesn’t bother me at all seeing him.”

Kellan turned his head. His gaze locked with hers, and Rose watched with pleasure as surprise and genuine joy lit his handsome features. He looked older than he had last time she’d seen him, which of course only made sense. He had to be in his late twenties now, if not already thirty.

He turned and came toward them, a wide smile curving his lips. It was contagious, because Rose found herself smiling in return.

“Lady Rose,” he greeted, his voice as warm as his smile. “How delightful to see you again.”

Rose extended her hand, which he took in his larger one. “Hello, Mr. Maxwell. I’m very pleased to see you as well.”

His gaze flickered to Eve. “Lady Eve.”

Her friend’s reception was a tad frostier than Rose’s. “Mr. Maxwell.”

Dear Eve, so protective.

“How is your mother, Lady Rose?” Kellan asked. “Is she in good health?”

“She is, sir. Thank you for asking.”

His eyes twinkled. “I shall have to call on the two of you some day.”

Rose found herself grinning. “That would be lovely. We’re in Mayfair at Ryeton House.”

Some of the light left his eyes. “Of course. I trust His Grace has no objection to you and your mother receiving callers?”

“Of course not.” Although secretly she hoped Grey did mind. “You are welcome at any time. Mama will be delighted to see you.” That was true as well. Her mother always harbored a soft spot for the youngest Maxwell boy. She was more disappointed that he never proposed than Rose was.

Kellan grinned. “Excellent. By the by, will you be attending the Shewsbury ball Friday evening?”

“I shall, yes.” It would be her first. “Will you?”

His smile turned flirtatious. “I plan to now.”

Rose blushed like a young girl, even though she knew Eve was behind her probably rolling her eyes. She would definitely wear the Worth gown her mother suggested. “Then I suppose I will see you there.”

“I hope you will honor me with the first waltz?”

Gracious, he certainly wasted no time! But Rose knew better than to have any expectations where he was concerned. Grey might not want her, but she wasn’t ready to set her cap on the first man to show interest in her.

“If you wish to dance with me, I have no desire to disappoint you.” Who was the flirt now?

Kellan bowed over her hand, brushing his lips across her gloved knuckles. “I shall count the days until then. Good day, Lady Rose. Lady Eve.”

“Good day, Mr. Maxwell.”

Pleased with him as well as herself, Rose watched him walk away, but took pains not to let her contentment show. It would only give the gossips something to twitter over, and she knew better than that.

“Promise me you won’t fall victim to his charms, Rose,” Eve murmured near her ear.

“You needn’t worry, Eve,” she replied, patting her friend’s hand. “I’m not the green girl I once was.”

And that was truth as well, because the girl she once was never would have been so suddenly sure of a man’s interest. Nor would she consider using that interest to her own advantage—not in any harmful way, of course. She may no longer be green, but she wasn’t an “arse” as Eve so eloquently put it.

But still, if Grey didn’t want her, then he wouldn’t mind if someone else did. Would he?

Chapter 5

A
nticipation kept Grey from eating much at dinner Thursday evening. Only the fact that his cook was so adept at her job made the meal palatable at all. Like a lovesick boy, his stomach churned and twitched as the hands on the clock refused to move fast enough.

It was just past eight o’clock. In another three hours he would see his lovely mystery lady.

She would stoke, and eventually bank the fire within him, and make it possible for him to get through a dinner without wanting to take a bite out of the young woman sitting to his left, close enough to taunt, but too far away to touch. Not that he could touch her even if she was closer—Camilla might frown upon such liberties being taken with her daughter.

No man in his right mind could blame him for entertaining thoughts of setting Rose on top of the dining room table and shagging her senseless. Anyone who saw her in her dinner gown of soft peach and tea-dyed lace would think she looked good enough to eat, especially with the candlelight deepening her cleavage and highlighting the soft swells of her breasts.

They hadn’t spoken much in the last few days—not that he was avoiding her. Rather, it seemed the opposite. Had he done something to offend her? For the life of him he couldn’t think what that might be. And yet, despite knowing that it was probably for the best that they didn’t spend much time together, he couldn’t help but feel…disappointed.

He hadn’t been aware of staring, but when her questioning gaze locked with his, Grey felt as though he’d been smacked upside the head by the open palm of idiocy.

“Is something troubling you, Grey?”

He loved the sound of his name on her tongue, and hated that he loved it. She made him weak and stupid. One sweet glance from her and he was ready to drop to his knees.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even infatuation. It was pure unmitigated lust. He could admit that. Hell, he embraced it. Lust could be managed. Lust could be mastered. And lust would eventually fade once she was out of his care and out of his life. That was the cold, hard, blessed truth of it.

“I was wondering if you were eagerly anticipating Lady Shrewsbury’s ball tomorrow evening?” How easily the lie rolled off his tongue as he lifted a bite of poached salmon to his mouth.

She smiled softly, obviously looking forward to it very much. “I am. Thank you.”

Camilla shared her daughter’s pleasure judging from her coy grin. “Rose has renewed her acquaintance with the honorable Kellan Maxwell. He requested that she save the first waltz of the evening for him.”

The fish caught in Grey’s throat. He took a drink of wine to force it down. “The same Kellan Maxwell who courted you during your first season?”

Rose’s smile faded a little. No doubt she heard the censure in his tone, his disapproval. “The same,” she replied with an edge of defensiveness.

The same idiot who abandoned his pursuit of Rose when Charles lost everything and scandal erupted. The little prick who hadn’t loved her enough to continue his courtship regardless of her situation.

“Mm,” was what he said out loud.

Rose scowled at him. “We had no understanding. We were not engaged, and Mr. Maxwell behaved as any other young man with responsibilities would have.”

“You defend him.” It was difficult to keep his disappointment from showing. He never thought her to be the kind of woman who would forgive disloyalty when she was so very loyal herself.

She tilted her head. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m no debutante, Grey. If I’m to find a husband this season I shouldn’t show prejudice.”

Common sense coming out of anyone else. Coming out of her it was shite. “You deserve better.”

She smiled a Mona Lisa smile. “We do not always get what we deserve, or even what we desire.”

She knew. Christ in a frock coat,
she knew.

Her smile faded. “If we did, Papa would be here with us, and Mama and I wouldn’t be your responsibility.”

She didn’t know. Damn, what a relief. “The two of you are not a responsibility. You are a joy.”

For some reason that only made her look sadder, but Camilla smiled through happy tears. She thanked him profusely, but Grey had a hard time hearing what she was saying—he was too intent on Rose, who had turned her attention to her plate and was pushing food around with little interest.

He could bear this no longer. He didn’t know what was wrong with her, or why she seemed so strange with him. And he couldn’t stand that he cared.

“Ladies, I’m afraid I must beg your pardon and take leave of you.”

Rose glanced up. “So soon?”

He pushed his chair back from the table. “Yes. But I will see you at breakfast in the morning.”

She turned back to her dinner.

Grey bid farewell to Camilla and then strode from the room as quickly as he could. If he survived the Season it would be a miracle.