Dusk With a Dangerous Duke, page 6
“How are you related to the duke?” she asked.
“Am I related to Hunter?” Regan wrinkled her nose in amusement. “No. My brother is the Earl of Chillingsworth. When Lady Netherley speaks of Frost, she is referring to my brother.”
“Juliana and Isabel, whom you met earlier, Regan, and myself are married to gentlemen who have been friends most of their lives. The ton calls them the Lords of Vice—”
“I beg your pardon,” Grace interrupted, wondering if she had misunderstood her companion. “You and Sophia are married to gentlemen who call themselves the Lords of Vice?”
Sophia responded before Regan could explain. “Several very vexed members of the ton began to call them that awful name when they were more boys than men.”
“Hunter is one of the seven,” Regan said as she held up her hand to count off the names of the remaining men. “Then there is my husband, Dare; my brother; Sophia’s Reign; Juliana’s husband, Sin; Lady Netherley’s son, Vane; and Saint. He’s married to Catherine, though I doubt the couple will be attending the Lovelaces’ ball this evening.”
“Astounding,” Grace marveled. She had learned more about the Duke of Huntsley and his friends in one evening than she had gleaned from Mr. Porter during the last nineteen years. “And your husbands and the others do not mind being called the Lords of Vice?”
“When you get to know them, you will see the sobriquet is wholly appropriate,” Regan added.
Sophia tilted her head to concur. “True. Over the years, the men have become more than friends, and now that many of them have gone on to marry and beget children, we have all become family.”
“You will feel the same, once you marry Hunter,” Regan said blithely.
Grace bit her lower lip. She had asked Lady Netherley not to share her plans before she had confronted the duke. If Hunter had refrained from sharing his personal business with his friends, then the ladies were unaware that the duke was not interested in her or marriage.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Grace glanced at the handsome dark-haired gentleman who approached them with an air of familiarity. One of the ladies’ husbands, perhaps?
“If I said yes, would you leave us?” Regan teased.
The gentleman tapped her lightly on her nose. “On the contrary, I would have regretted not joining you sooner.”
“I am amazed you stayed away this long,” Sophia said with a hint of a smile playing across her mouth.
No, he was not married to either woman. There was a casual intimacy among them, but he behaved as if he were talking to annoying female relatives. Was this Regan’s brother? The one she called Frost?
If so, it also meant that he was another one of the duke’s good friends. And she had hoped to gain the advantage over Hunter by learning more about him, but how could she best him when she was outnumbered and surrounded by his closest friends?
Her predicament did not bode well for her.
The gentleman continued, unaware of her increasing discomfort. “When I arrived, Juliana was the first to warn me off. Lady Netherley was the second. It was then that I knew I just had to meet your beautiful companion.”
Suddenly Grace had become the center of attention.
The gentleman stared at her boldly, almost as thoroughly as if he had touched her. She felt the impact of his unique turquoise-blue gaze like a warm wave sweeping from her face and spreading out over her chest. The corners of his mouth quirked as if he had guessed her reaction to his interest.
“Perhaps you should have listened to Juliana and the marchioness,” Regan said, sounding exasperated.
“When have I ever listened to anyone?” the gentleman countered. “Will you perform the introduction or shall I deepen that pretty blush on the lady’s cheeks by impressing her with my daring?”
Regan rolled her eyes as she lightly touched Grace on the arm. “Forgive my brother, Lady Grace. We have tried to civilize him, but his head is as dense as granite.”
“As is my heart, though I endeavor to find a lady who might persuade me to make an exception,” he said, the blue in his gaze darkening as he admired her from head to toe. “You may call me Frost.”
“Oh, dear,” Sophia softly muttered to no one in particular.
Regan noticed Grace’s wary expression, and added to ease her concern about her brazen sibling, “Lady Grace Kearly, may I present my older brother, the Earl of Chillingsworth. Forgive his boldness. He believes he is being charming.”
“I am charming,” Frost said smoothly. “Do you not agree, Lady Grace?”
It was probably a bad notion to encourage the earl, but she could not prevent herself from smiling at his arrogance. She inclined her head as she curtsied. “Has anyone dared to disagree with you, Lord Chillingsworth?”
Frost drew attention with his sudden bark of laughter. “Very few are that courageous, my lady. But I occasionally enjoy the novelty of it.” He bowed gallantly. “So whom do you belong to, Lady Grace?”
Regan and Sophia seemed displeased by the question.
Grace was also distrustful of the gentleman’s intentions. “I belong to myself, Lord Chillingsworth.” Since that sounded odd, even to her ears, she explained, “I was orphaned when I was very young.”
Grace required no sympathy from anyone. She had been so young when her mother and father had died that she did not remember them. All she had to cling to were the stories her grandfather and Rosemary told her, and old paintings in the gallery at Frethwell Hall.
The earl nodded, deducing that any sympathy would not have been welcome. “Ah, yes … and if I recall correctly, you are the Duke of Strangham’s daughter.”
Surprise lit up her eyes. “My uncle inherited the title, but your assumptions are correct. How did you know? You must have been a child when my father and mother died.”
Then it occurred to her. The Duke of Huntsley had shared certain details of her life with his friends.
Instead of mentioning his connection to Hunter, he explained, “Oh, I was a boy. However, you come from an old and revered family, Lady Grace. The loss of your parents touched many hearts in the ton, and such losses are often discussed and lamented by our elders.”
It was a reasonable explanation, and it touched her heart that the ton had not forgotten her parents as she had. Unfortunately for the earl, she did not believe that was the true source of his knowledge about her personal tragedy.
“I did not expect to encounter you so late at the Lovelaces’,” Regan said, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You usually get bored at these affairs.”
“I do,” her brother said in agreeable tones. To Grace, he confessed, “Greedy hostesses are reluctant to allow wealthy bachelors to slip through their fingers.”
Regan appeared to surrender. “Not exactly subtle, dear brother. I can think of a certain gentleman who will not appreciate your mischief.”
Was his sister referring to Hunter? Grace’s lips parted as she prepared to assure her companions that the Duke of Huntsley had not concerned himself with the personal details of her life.
However, she held her tongue as Sophia’s laughter drew everyone’s attention to her. “If you wish to leave, I suspect Lady Lovelace would make an exception for you, Frost,” she teased.
“You are probably right, lovely Sophia,” the earl said, attempting to appear contrite. “Which, of course, is just one more reason to remain. Do you not agree, Lady Grace?”
It was difficult not to like Lord Chillingsworth. Especially when he was trying so hard to win her favor.
“Would you consider it daring of me to disagree, my lord?” she asked flirtatiously.
“Indeed,” he said, moving closer. “My favorite kind of lady.”
“Frost,” Regan said, a crisp reprimand infused in the single word.
The earl’s scrutiny of her face did not falter. “Do not ask me to behave, dear sister. It’s simply not in my nature.”
“Lord Chillingsworth, what are you doing?” Lady Netherley demanded as she quickened her stride to break up any mischief.
“Why, nothing at all, dear lady—yet,” he drawled.
The elderly marchioness’s response was one of predictable indignation on the behalf of the young lady for whom she felt a certain responsibility.
“Well, you wicked man, you will cease this instant!” Lady Netherley raised her walking stick to bar the earl from stepping closer. “Lady Grace is under my protection. I suggestion you tarry with the ladies who are not!”
Lord Chillingsworth brought his fist to his heart. “My dear Lady Netherley, you wound me with your assumptions.”
It was apparent there was affection between the earl and the marchioness.
“I know what you are about,” the older woman said fiercely. “And I will not tolerate it.”
The earl astounded everyone by extending his hand to Grace. “My lady, will you honor me with a dance?”
Sophia frowned and Regan sighed. Apparently, no one expected Lord Chillingsworth to extend the invitation.
Lady Netherley did not mince her words. “Do you think the gossips will hold their tongues?”
The poor woman was worried about the Duke of Huntsley’s reaction to the news. It was on the tip of Grace’s tongue to tell the marchioness that her concerns were for naught. The duke did not care what she did as long as she remained in her gilt cage.
If she had been aware that it was rare for the earl to invite any lady to dance, Grace might have questioned the wisdom in accepting his offer. Blissfully unaware, she slipped her hand into Lord Chillingsworth’s. “I would be honored, my lord.”
The course already set, none of women said another word of protest as Grace strolled away with the gentleman most of the ton thought was the wickedest of all the Lords of Vice.
Chapter Seven
Hunter entered the Lord and Lady Lovelace’s ballroom intent on finding his quarry.
Lady Netherley.
He was prepared to behave as long as the marchioness revealed Lady Grace’s whereabouts. If she refused, then the evening might take an unpleasant turn.
Recognizing that particular expression on his friend’s face, Sin attempted to thwart what was likely to develop into a confrontation. “It might be prudent to find our ladies, first. I’ll wager Juliana, as well as the others, have sought an introduction to Lady Grace if she is present this evening. Perhaps they will be able to direct you to her so you do not have to intimidate Vane’s mother or fondle every unfamiliar lady in the ballroom.”
“With most of the Lords of Vice in attendance, I can predict how this evening will end—with us getting tossed out of the Lovelaces’ ball. It will be the highlight of our evening,” quipped Dare. “Regan will blister our ears for ruining what she considers her efforts to improve on our reputation.”
Hunter laughed, viewing the lady’s efforts as a hopeless task. The people surrounding them respected wealth and power. He would leave the etiquette and charity to the ladies.
“It isn’t a jest,” Reign said, shouldering his way among them. “Our wives have to hold their heads up in this town. Being married to the Lords of Vice cannot make it an easy task.”
Hunter disagreed, and was prepared to debate the issue with Reign. However, the man kept walking, uninterested in anyone else’s opinion on the subject. Sin shrugged and followed.
“Only a weak-minded fool would allow a woman to dictate his life,” he complained to Dare.
Dare grinned at him. “Spoken like a gent with nothing to lose or a sleepy, well-pleasured lady in his bed each night.”
Now his friend was being cruel. “Who says I want a female in my bed each night?”
The marquess gave him a look of disbelief. “If you don’t give a farthing one way or the other, why precisely are you in a lather about Lady Grace?”
Hunter’s jaw tightened, but he kept his mouth shut.
Dare gave him a knowing grin. “That’s what I thought you’d say, my friend. Come on, let’s find Lady Netherley before you offend the wrong person.”
* * *
“You enjoyed the dance.”
Grace heard the indulgent satisfaction in Lord Chillingsworth’s voice, but she could not deduce a reason for it.
“How could I not with you as my partner?” she said as they walked together. She had thought the earl would return her promptly to Lady Netherley to prove that he could be trusted.
However, her companion was not ruled by anyone.
She rather liked that about him.
“Do you want to step outside?” he asked, already nudging her toward the open doors.
“I would not mind some fresh air. It’s a little stuffy in here,” she said, smiling up at him. “Can I ask you something, Lord Chillingsworth?”
“Anything … if you call me Frost.”
The scoundrel. He thought nothing of flirting with a lady who was betrothed to one of his closest friends. The man was shameless.
“Well, Frost, would you consider yourself an honest gentleman?”
Amusement flickered in his gaze. “Sometimes. When it serves me to be so. Why do you ask?”
“For the usual reasons,” she said brightly. “I have a question and wondered if you would give me an honest answer.”
The earl halted abruptly, and belatedly Grace realized that they were alone. “A challenge. Go ahead, Lady Grace. Ask your question.”
Perhaps she should have asked Regan or Sophia. Still, she was no coward. “I have met several of your friends and their wives this evening. All of you have one person in common, and yet all of you have studiously avoided speaking his name. Why is that?”
His white teeth flashed as he smiled at her. “You are wondering why no one has mentioned the Duke of Huntsley, eh? I cannot speak for the others, though I am not surprised by their reluctance.”
“How so?”
Frost held her in place when she tried to continue their stroll. “You are incredibly beautiful. If Hunter had known, he might have reconsidered abandoning you to the country.”
“Is that what he told you?”
“My darling lady, Hunter never mentions you at all.” He noted her pained expression and sighed. “And that is why my good friends have avoided uttering the gent’s name. Everyone is uncertain of your plans, and no one wishes to injure your feelings.”
“You know, don’t you?”
“That you seek to dissolve this arranged marriage? Yes?”
“Lady Netherley promised not to speak of it,” she said, furious at herself for confiding in the marchioness. It had been a calculated risk, but she had thought the elderly woman’s friendship with Grace’s grandfather would encourage her to honor her word.
“Don’t you be angry at the marchioness,” he said in the ensuing silence. “She has known Hunter since he was a lad, and feels you would be better off under his care.”
She did not bother concealing her skepticism. “And do you agree?”
“Let’s just say that I have an aversion to the notion of marriage. Hunter has protected you for nineteen years; if he chooses he could continue to do so without the messy complication of a loveless union,” the earl said pragmatically.
Grace was conflicted. Lord Chillingsworth was the first person in London who genuinely supported her position, and yet she felt strangely insulted that he did not approve of the match with his friend.
“Do you think His Grace has formed a similar opinion?” she asked.
“You will have to ask him yourself,” he said dismissively as if he did not care either way. He stepped closer, his body blocking the filtered light from the ballroom. “However, I will share my thoughts if you are interested?”
“Of course.”
“Do not marry Hunter,” he said bluntly. “My friend is capable of appreciating your beauty and body, but you will never claim his love. You are so young … innocent. It is the folly of youth to reach for the unattainable, and you will spend the rest of your life regretting it.”
She could barely swallow as she contemplated the lonely years of being bound to a man who could never love her. “I—thank you for your honesty, Frost. Unfortunately, I happen to agree with you.”
“I have another confession to make,” Lord Chillingsworth said, his fingers lightly stroking the flesh just above her elbows. “Truth is as deadly as a double-edged sword, and you inspire me to play fairly with you.”
Grace stilled, sensing his words were important. “You do not always play fairly, my lord?”
“I avoid it at all costs,” he admitted. “Do you want to know why I approached you this evening, when I had been warned off by several of my friends?”
“Why?”
His chin tipped upward as he found his thoughts amusing. “I generally abhor innocent misses like you. No offense, my dear, but you and your dewy-eyed peers are nothing but trouble. And there lies my quandary. My nature is to indulge all of my senses in the forbidden, and you, Lady Grace, most definitely are as tempting as the red, shiny apple was to Adam in the Garden of Eden. I shouldn’t—” He gave her an apologetic look.
Puzzled, she asked, “Should not do what?”
“This.”
The teasing caress of his fingers unexpectedly transformed into iron manacles on her upper arms. He pulled her up against his body, and covered her protest with a kiss. Though he made no attempt to deepen the kiss, his mouth was warm and firm against hers.
He released her just as quickly.
Grace stumbled backward and gaped at the earl. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to slap you in the face and then march back into the ballroom alone?” She wondered if this had been his plan all along, though she could not fathom his motives.
Was he trying to ruin her reputation?
“I have another suggestion,” he said, his turquoise-blue gaze gleaming. “Come closer and kiss me again.”
“No,” Grace said, appalled by his suggestion. Lord Chillingsworth was clearly not to be trusted. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Answer a question first.”
“I think I’ve answered enough of your questions.”
