A Duke to Elude: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 1) Page 9

  He had used his time since his own arrival to ascertain from the orchestra when they would be playing waltzes throughout the night. There weren’t many, as it was still controversial. He could hear that one was just about to start. Fortuitous timing, he congratulated himself. Stepping toward the staircase, James was able to intercept Rosabel as she reached the bottom of the staircase, the last of her family to do so, before any other gentlemen could approach her.

  “Good evening, my lady, might I have the honor of your hand in this dance?”

  A strange expression he couldn’t interpret flitted across her face before it returned to its usual neutrality. James would almost think she was annoyed by his question. She hesitated a moment before placing her hand in his outstretched grasp.

  “How pleasant, Your Grace. It sounds as though it is to be a waltz.”

  James tightened his grasp on her hand, pulling her closer to him and into the flow of the traffic on the crowded dance floor as others joined in. He was relieved to see that it wasn’t too crowded for private conversation if they kept their voices low.

  “How was your supper with the dowager?”

  “If you’ve ever eaten with her, you’ll know that her kitchen staff are remarkable. We were very well fed.”

  James was surprised that she only commented on the food.

  “And how was the company?”

  Her gaze, which she had been keeping focused on his chin, lifted suddenly to meet his. There was a glimmer of amusement there, which he found inexplicably reassuring.

  “The company had its moments,” was all she would say before asking a question of her own. “How has your evening been?”

  “It has gotten better since you’ve arrived.”

  His flirtatious comment caused the usually stoic young woman to have a hot red splash across her cheekbones.

  “Why are you attempting to charm me now, Your Grace? You didn’t even have a moment to spare for me this afternoon.” From the expression deep in her eyes, James suspected she hadn’t meant to admit to being hurt by his indifference. He thrilled for a moment before he reminded himself that he didn’t want a complicated wife, and she wanted a simpler life than he could offer. But he still had to find out what she might know.

  “That isn’t even a little bit true,” he countered, surprising her into expressing a genuine reaction, as her eyes widened before blinking slowly and a frown furrowed her brow for a moment before she caught herself and smoothed out her expression once more.

  “Whatever do you mean?” Again, her gaze was fixed somewhere in the region of his chin. James wondered if she had figured out that he could read her better than others seemed to be able to. It had only been a few days but already, he felt as though he had been well acquainted with her all his life.

  Of course, he had known of her all her life. She was several years younger than him, but her father had been associated with his father for as long as James could remember. James could actually remember his father speaking of Sherton on several occasions. They had been respectful, admiring comments for the most part, even though the earl was several years younger than James’ father. But despite that, James had never found himself much in Rosabel’s company. And it hadn’t been until now that she had truly captured his attention. He wished she hadn’t. It was most inconvenient, he thought with a sigh.

  “I wished to speak with you but didn’t want to draw undue attention to any association between us, since we just went driving yesterday. As you said, if we aren’t careful, we’ll have all the tongues wagging.”

  “Then why did you come to my house?”

  “Did Lady Vigilia not tell you?” He hid his half-truth in a question. The girl surprised him with a small laugh.

  “I guess I owe Vicky an apology. I didn’t actually believe her. Or rather, I didn’t believe what you told her. So, I suppose it’s you I ought to apologize to.”

  James smiled down at her averted face. “No apology necessary. You aren’t completely wrong, actually. It wasn’t until I was shown into your very full reception rooms that I realized the extent of the potential gossip.” He shrugged slightly. “Besides, my sister really is coming, and I could use some help entertaining her.”

  Rosabel’s smile was a sight to behold even if it was brief.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her.” There was a slight pause as they executed a turn of the room. “You said you did wish to speak with me,” she reminded him softly. “Was it general conversation you were looking for or something specific you wished to discuss, other than your sister’s imminent arrival?”

  While James was pleased that she had presented him with the opportunity he was looking for, in that moment, he wasn’t sure exactly what to do with the chance he had been given. He shook off the unusual indecision.

  “I actually wanted to ask you about something that happened last night.”

  From the slight wrinkle in her forehead and the tilt of her head, he knew he had her full attention. In that moment, he knew her for an intelligent young woman, and a part of him wanted to confide in her and seek her council. It was a strange, alluring impulse that he quickly squashed. Dukes did not confide in debutantes.

  “I was in conversation with Lord Prescott while you were dancing with that newly inherited viscount from Shropshire. Despite being on the dance floor, seemingly occupied with the dance, you appeared to be very concerned with my conversation. Why was that?”

  He was fascinated by the wave of pink that filled her cheeks and followed immediately by her face turning so white he wondered if she might faint. James actually grew concerned and tightened his grasp on her hand, instinctively pulling her closer for a moment before sense and propriety called him to task. For the first time since he’d known her, she suddenly appeared awkward.

  “Can a lady not watch a handsome man without it becoming a national trust issue, Your Grace? I do not understand the purpose of your question.”

  His eyes narrowed on her face. Was she trying to say that’s what it was? He couldn’t say he believed her. While he was aware some ladies thought he was handsome, Wexford was also aware that he was not the sort that young women stared at longingly. He also was fairly certain that her attention had not been of that sort anyway. But how was he to press for the information he sought? This had perhaps not been his best thought out stratagem. Had he actually thought she would reveal all her secrets if he but asked? This woman was making him daft.

  ∞∞∞

  Rosabel felt as though her face had frozen. Since she couldn’t tell which expression it was stuck in, she only hoped she wasn’t grimacing at Wexford for all the ton to see. That would set tongues to wagging for sure. But how was she to answer the man’s questions? She hoped she could brazen it out with saying she merely enjoyed looking at him. It certainly wasn’t a lie. His looks were very appealing to her. It felt as though her eyes were drawn to him like bees to a flower. She knew he wasn’t considered by others to be the most handsome nobleman, which was beyond short-sighted in her opinion. His face fascinated her. The contours and angles were arresting. His intelligent gaze conveyed his interest in his surroundings. And the greyish blue of his eyes reminded her of the sea before a storm. Perhaps she was about to face a storm from the nobleman, too. He didn’t appear convinced that she might have just been enjoying watching him. Did he not realize how attractive he was?

  After a brief moment of panic, which may have only been seconds but felt like years, Rosabel was able to get her face to relax enough to offer him a slight smile as she lifted her eyebrows at him. She managed not to blather at him as she felt like doing. Her instinctive reaction was to try to talk her way out of the situation but with a firm grip on her self-control, she managed to continue following his lead in the dance and maintain her silence. It was hard for her to believe that the watchful, astute duke would put her on the spot in this way.

  Rosabel finally felt as though she were once again in full control of herself. She could feel as her muscles unclen
ched themselves. It amazed her that she had managed not to trip over her feet in that tense state, even as she blew a slight breath of relief that she hadn’t blurted out any of her secrets as had been her immediate reaction when he’d asked his probing question.

  What was it about Wexford that both relaxed and stressed her?

  Part of her felt remarkably inclined to confide in the man. It was the strangest sensation. Especially when one considered the fact that it was the very fact of him talking with Lord Prescott that had started this fiasco. The very reason she was so able to control her reactions. The irony was not lost on her.

  Bel wanted to pretend this conversation wasn’t happening or hadn’t happened, but she doubted Wexford would so easily drop the subject. He wasn’t the sort to idly bring up a strange topic. Especially not when he had mentioned specifically wishing to speak to her on the matter. It would appear far more suspicious if she tried to ignore it.

  “Why did you ask? What made you think there was something out of the ordinary about my looking at you? Surely you are accustomed to being observed.”

  Rosabel was proud of the almost disinterested tone of her voice. She never would have thought that she had such a skill for dissembling. But then again, she had learned her lessons well two years ago.

  She couldn’t be sure what Wexford was thinking, as she couldn’t bring her gaze above his chin. Even his chin was attractive, but it wasn’t nearly as distracting as his eyes or mouth. A slight shiver made its way down her spine as she thought of his mouth, even as she kept her gaze averted. It was hard to discern how much time had passed. It felt like an age but might not have been more than a few seconds. The duke’s tight grasp on her hands seemed to loosen, and she wondered if he too had been tense. Not that she minded his tight grasp. Despite everything, it gave her a sense of security, which was at odds with how nervous she felt.

  “I have reason to believe you are lying to me, Lady Rosabel.”

  His low voice sent a thrill through her before his words registered and her eyes widened, even though she had the presence of mind to keep the rest of her face neutral.

  “That’s rather rude of you, Your Grace,” she replied in a bland voice. Rosabel was pleased to see his lips twitch, but he didn’t retract his statement.

  They had arrived at an impasse. It didn’t appear as though he were going to elaborate on his question. And she certainly wasn’t going to be honest with him in answer to his question. She could never tell anyone what had happened with Prescott. And the fact that Wexford was in association with the cad lowered his worth in her mind. Realizing that made it easier to lift her chin and meet his gaze without flinching.

  Rosabel wondered how they managed to avoid knocking into any other couples on the dance floor as their eyes remained locked in what felt like a battle of wills. Wexford was clearly a skilled dancer. Neither of them missed a single step. Knowing she was about to make a spectacle of herself if she didn’t do something about the deadlock, Bel managed to wrench her gaze away from his.

  Her arms broke out in gooseflesh. She hoped he didn’t notice, but she wouldn’t allow her gaze to return to his to gauge his reaction. It mattered little if he noticed or not, she wasn’t willing to explain that any more than she was about Prescott.

  How did one explain to a duke that he both attracted and repelled her? One didn’t, that’s how. Bel’s chin notched a little bit higher, refusing to give in to the flurry of emotions flooding through her. She would discuss it all with Sally later that night. For now, she just had to brazen it through and survive this never-ending waltz. Why was it lasting so long? Surely it was unusual.

  Wexford’s face was tight when she finally mustered the courage to glance at it. He hid his frustration well, but she could see the corners of his mouth and eyes were pinched. His clasp of her hand was also tighter than was necessary for the manoeuvres of the dance.

  “I know you were jesting when you said it shouldn’t be a matter of national trust, but it actually is.” His low tone, as usual, caused her brain to fog for a moment, and his words didn’t register at first.

  “Is what?” she asked, even though she realized it made her sound like a simpleton, but she couldn’t understand what he was trying to say to her in that moment.

  “It is a matter of government business why you were interested in my conversation with Lord Prescott last night.” The exaggerated patience in his voice put her teeth on edge, but her gaze lifted to meet his once more. She searched their depths as best as she could, ignoring the nagging pull of attraction. He was serious. Had the Duke of Wexford lost his mind? She asked him as much.

  “Have you gone mad, Your Grace?”

  His lips twitched with amusement that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  “Not in the least, unfortunately. This is deadly serious.”

  Rosabel’s mouth was suddenly dry, and it was an internal struggle not to walk away from him at that very moment, but the very real threat of scandal attaching itself not just to her but also to her four younger sisters kept her from doing just that. She managed to do nothing, that is, except the slight widening of her eyes and the hitch in her breath that just could not be helped. She forced a light laugh past her parched throat and, looking past his right ear, she added, “You exaggerate, Your Grace.”

  “Actually, I don’t, my lady. If anything, I’m understating the issue.”

  He took a deep breath. The puff of his breath as he released it brushed by her ear, adding to Rosabel’s heightened senses. Fear began to fill her, and she fought against a rising panic. She could not allow a scene to ruin her sisters’ chances, but how she desperately wanted to cause one.

  “Now, quickly, Lady Rosabel, you must tell me all that you know about Lord Prescott. Why were you looking at him? I know it wasn’t anything to do with me or my appearance.”

  “How could you possibly know that?” she countered. “You are a handsome peer of the realm. Young and wealthy and good looking. Surely women have been staring at you since you were born. I can assure you, I know absolutely nothing of national importance about Lord Prescott. And I rather think you are being ridiculous to insist that I do.” There was a brief pause where he merely looked at her, and Rosabel felt as though she were itching under the scrutiny. “Do you suppose there’s something wrong with the musicians? This waltz should surely be over by now.”

  Wexford’s lips twitched again, and the severity of his expression lightened but his grip on her didn’t.

  “I will call for you early tomorrow, and we will go driving. Not in the Park. We’ll go further afield. That will give us time to talk. It was foolish of me to think I could get you to talk while we danced, no matter how long the waltz might be.”

  For a moment Rosabel actually felt faint.

  “And if I refuse you when you call?”

  “If you’re afraid of scandal attaching itself to your sisters, you won’t,” was all he said in reply.

  “Are you prepared for the gossip that will attach itself to the both of us if you’re seen so much in my company?”

  “It’ll be less than what there will be if you don’t cooperate, my lady.”

  “It’s hardly gentlemanly to threaten me, Your Grace.”

  “I’m not threatening you, Rosabel. I’m stating the facts. Be ready by ten.”

  “Ten o’clock? No one will even be out of bed at that hour.”

  “If you’re hoping to avoid scandal, isn’t that a good thing?”

  Finally, mercifully, Rosabel could hear the end to the waltz approaching. She didn’t bother answering him, and she barely sketched him a curtsy as she left him at the end of their dance. Without a backward glance or another word, she walked away from him. They both knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse him if he called for her. They both knew she would be ready even if he actually did call at the shockingly early hour. She didn’t have to say it in words. Tomorrow was going to be humiliation enough. There was slight relief in the fact that he didn’t insist upon it. Thank
goodness for small mercies.

  Chapter Ten

  Wexford had hoped to be able to avoid gossip, but it didn’t seem that was likely. He wouldn’t compromise the girl, but he needed to know what she knew. Just her very evasiveness told him she knew something she didn’t want to share. He needed to know what it was. He doubted Lady Rosabel was involved in Prescott’s schemes, but anything she might know could help him control the viscount.

  It pained him to hear her claim he was being ungentlemanly, but he couldn’t be squeamish at a time like this. He would try to make her see the importance of the matter, and he would make every effort to make up for any churlishness she might think he was displaying. But he couldn’t change his course of action.

  Perhaps he had been foolish to think she would confide in him in the middle of a ball. He was normally far more astute. It was possible her beauty had melted his mind. He would have to stop dithering about on this matter. Time was running out. It was unlike him to allow a woman to interfere with his affairs, and it was unheard of for a debutante to be running him around in circles. It was time for him to close this matter and get on with other matters of national trust.

  Those thoughts had all chased each other around his mind as he watched Lady Rosabel stalk away from him. It was the most graceful stalking he had ever witnessed, but it was clear, at least to him, that she was more than eager to be rid of him.

  It had been outrageous of him to threaten her and her sisters with scandal. He knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through on the threat. But even just extending his association with her ran that risk. It was slight, of course. And there was always the obvious solution, if it became necessary. But he didn’t want to find his duchess in such an underhanded way. Especially not when she had been so clear on the fact that she didn’t want to be one.