Duke of Arrogance, page 8
“I am glad you recognize my superiority. That goes in my judgment, as well, my lady. I tell you—I want to be with you during this supper, Arabella Jennings.” He rose. “I’m off to fill two plates for us. Do you have anything in particular you might wish to consume?”
Arabella gave him a wry smile. “Considering I have never supped at midnight, much less from such a sumptuous buffet, I will allow your superior judgment to select items you feel to be remarkable and will dine upon whatever you bring back.”
A slow, seductive smile spread across his handsome face. “I like it when you fight back. Verbal sparring with a clever companion will make this supper pass far too quickly.”
With that, he bowed and left her alone for a few minutes. Arabella gazed about the room, seeing surreptitious glances in her direction. She knew the ton must wonder why the Duke of Blackmore was favoring her with such attention. She supposed they would think her naïve and his latest conquest but she didn’t care. The fact was that it was exhilarating to be in his company. To have a man of his looks, title, and charm pay a small bit of attention to her was wonderful. If this were to be the only ball she ever attended, at least it was becoming a memorable one.
He joined her again, the plates he brought overflowing.
“I’ll never eat all of that,” she said, laughing.
He grinned. “I didn’t think you would. I have a large appetite and box frequently in order to be able to eat all that I want. What you leave on your plate, I am hoping you will graciously allow me to finish for you.”
Arabella swallowed, thinking of him boxing. Her father had once taken her to a boxing match because one of his favorite students was a sparring partner of the boxer featured on the bill. She had been wide-eyed seeing men stripped to the waist as they viciously duked it out.
“You box?”
“Yes. Are you familiar with the sport?”
“I have been to one bout.”
“Have you?” He eyed her with interest. “Women aren’t allowed.”
“I know. Papa took me. He thought it would be educational,” she said primly.
Blackmore laughed loudly, drawing eyes to them. “I still want to meet the earl. Is he at supper?”
“I looked about the room and didn’t see him.”
“If he enjoys cards, the host usually has sandwiches brought to the card room in case players would rather remain at the tables there.”
“I am sure he’s still there. He does enjoy cards.”
“Ladies aren’t allowed in the card room.” His brows arched suggestively. “Would you like to go there and seek him out after we sup?”
Arabella had a feeling he wanted her to say no, thinking her too meek to rise to his challenge. She wanted to surprise him. Put him in his place. Knock him down a few pegs.
“Yes. I’d be delighted to accompany you to the card room, Your Grace,” she said sweetly.
Chapter Ten
Jon liked Lady Arabella more and more. However, he didn’t want to see her gossiped about any more than she already had been this evening. A trip to the card room, where women never ventured, would not only be unwelcomed but set the tongues of the ton wagging even more than they had. He couldn’t see her ruined over something so trivial.
Seeing that couples were beginning to leave the supper room, he said, “Before we do so, I would like to introduce you to my friends. I don’t hold many close but they are as dear to me as brothers.”
He caught George’s eye and indicated for him to join them. George leaned over and said something to Weston and the two men, accompanied by Samantha and Elise, headed in their direction.
As they arrived, Elizabeth and Lord Atterby came over, as well. Jon helped Lady Arabella rise.
“I’d be honored for you to meet my friends,” he said. “Lady Arabella Jennings, this is the Duke and Duchess of Colebourne.” He indicated George and Samantha. “Her Grace’s brother, the Duke of Treadwell. And Lady Ruthersby.”
Jon liked that Arabella maintained her poise as she greeted not one but two dukes.
He added, “Lady Arabella is the daughter of the Earl of Barrington. This is her first Season.”
Weston said, “I met your father in the card room tonight, my lady. Barrington is an astute player.”
She smiled. “He would be happy to hear the compliment, Your Grace.”
“I have not been in London for many Seasons myself,” Lady Ruthersby shared. “I am a widow.”
“I am a widow as well as a new bride,” Samantha said. “I find I know very few people. I am sure since this is your first Season, tonight must seem overwhelming with so many new people to meet.”
Jon noted Arabella’s wry smile but she politely responded, “It has been a most interesting evening.”
“Well, Lady Arabella saved my evening,” Elizabeth proclaimed. “My hair went awry from all the dancing. Who knows where the missing pins wound up? Lady Arabella graciously loaned me some of hers. I have asked her to tea tomorrow to show my gratitude. You all should come, as well.”
Jon knew Weston had Elise Blakeney on his mind and quickly said, “I believe Treadwell and Lady Ruthersby already have a prior commitment tomorrow afternoon but surely the Colebournes can join us. You, too, Atterby,” he added, hoping Elizabeth liked the young man enough to include him in the invitation.
“We would be delighted to come,” Samantha replied.
The women, including Atterby, began talking about tonight’s buffet, allowing Jon to turn to his friends.
“What do you think of her?” he asked quietly.
“What do we think of her?” Weston echoed. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“Yes.” Jon glanced to Arabella and back. “I am interested in her.”
“I didn’t know you were interested in any woman—other than bedding them,” George quipped.
Anger flashed through him. “I need a wife. You and Andrew have seemed to make fine matches for yourselves and if Weston will get his head out of his arse, he will do the same with Lady Ruthersby. Why not wed? I’ll be thirty this year. I will need an heir.”
“The point isn’t if we like her. It’s if you do—and obviously you do,” Weston said.
“I do,” he admitted. “Very much.”
“Well, she’s a comely woman. Curves in all the right places,” George noted. “I can see why you’re attracted to her.”
“It’s more than that,” Jon insisted. “I had the most interesting conversation with her in the library.”
“What were you doing in the library?” Weston demanded. “Alone with her?”
He shrugged. “I was bored. I found her with her nose buried in a tome of Shakespeare. The ton did not take well to a woman whose dressed was so unadorned and who had no chaperone to introduce her about. The women were rather cruel to her.”
Both his friends nodded, knowing how vicious Polite Society could be.
“We talked. I mean, we really talked. It wasn’t meaningless conversation. She is spirited. Intelligent. I am drawn to her mind as much as her body,” he admitted.
George laughed. “I never thought I’d hear that from the Duke of Arrogance.”
“Oh, hush, Charm,” Jon teased, calling George by society’s nickname for him.
“No, I am pleased for you,” George said. “I am deliriously happy with Samantha, as I know Andrew is with Phoebe.” He looked to Weston. “And I have the same hopes for you and Elise.”
“I’m getting there,” Weston said and grinned. “Don’t think you will beat me to the altar, Jon.”
“I doubt it. But I did want your opinion of Lady Arabella.”
“If you like her, we also will,” George assured him.
“Enough to dance with her?” Jon asked. “She’s only danced once and that was with me. Being seen dancing with two other dukes might take the sting out of the evening and help others to notice her. I know you said you and Samantha were leaving after supper, though.”
“I’ll be happy to dance with Lady Arabella before we go. And we will be at tea tomorrow,” George assured him.
“You take the next dance and I’ll partner with her for the one that follows,” Weston said.
“Thank you both. While she is in good hands, I think I will go and meet her father.”
He turned and saw most everyone had left the supper room and suggested, “We should return to the ballroom.”
George whispered something to his wife. She nodded and he said, “I would love a dance with you, Lady Arabella. Are you free for this next number?”
As the group moved back toward the ballroom, Jon peeled away and retreated to the card room, where he’d briefly visited earlier. It was about half-full but he knew more would return now that supper had ended. He spoke to an acquaintance and mentioned the Earl of Barrington.
“He took me for a pretty penny earlier this evening,” the viscount said.
“Which table is he sitting at?”
“There. Talking to Welles.”
“Perhaps I can win a hand from him,” Jon said and headed in that direction, seeing the large stacks of chips in front of the man.
The seat next to the earl was empty so he took it. Lord Welles and Barrington conversed for another minute and then Welles excused himself, giving the Jon the opportunity to speak.
“Lord Barrington?”
“Yes?” the earl said, turning to face Jon.
“I am the Duke of Blackmore. I’ve heard you have had a run of luck this evening, my lord.”
Barrington laughed. “I haven’t played cards since my university days. My father didn’t see the need to pay for the education of a fourth son, which led to me applying and winning a scholarship to Oxford. A young man has to eat, though, and so I supplemented my meager income with winnings from card games. I am a cautious player but when Lady Luck smiles upon me, I take her in hand and conquer my opponents. Fortunately, she has been with me tonight. I know to fold, though, whenever she deserts me for another.”
No wonder Arabella had such a poor view of society. Her own father had to scrape by to become educated and had been ostracized by his own family.
“I hear you recently came into your title,” Jon said, prodding the man a bit so he could learn more about him—and his daughter.
“I did. I stayed at Oxford for years, serving as a don. My three older brothers all died within a month of one another, making me a surprise earl.”
“I believe I danced with your daughter earlier this evening.”
“Oh, Arabella does enjoy dancing. I am glad to hear she is having a good time. I myself never attended any social events, going straight from the classroom as a pupil to an instructor.”
So it was true that the man hadn’t deliberately abandoned his daughter. He simply lacked knowledge of the social graces and blithely thought all would be well tonight because he had a clever, beautiful daughter who was used to taking care of herself.
“How have you found your country estate? Where is it?”
“In Wiltshire. A little over twenty miles from Salisbury. Frankly, it was in deplorable shape,” he confided. “My eldest brother rarely visited his seat. Arabella had to take it in hand and get it up and running again.”
“She did?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I was at sixes and sevens. I resigned from my college in order to take up the responsibilities of the earldom but grieved for the life I had made for myself and had to abandon. Then my wife passed after a sudden illness and I was no good to anyone. Arabella took care of everything. By the time I roused myself from my melancholy, six months had passed. My daughter already knew the names of all our tenants and their family members. She had seen to repairs on the estate and within Barrington Manor. She’d researched crop rotation and had a plethora of knowledge regarding livestock. If not for her, I am afraid the estate would have not only fallen into disrepair, but it no longer would have generated any income at all.”
Jon liked what he heard. If Arabella could take over the responsibilities of an earldom and meet with success, becoming his duchess would be like a walk in the park.
“Your daughter did a kindness to my sister tonight and Elizabeth has asked Lady Arabella to tea tomorrow. I came to invite you, as well, so that you would escort her.”
“Oh, I’m to come, as well?” the earl asked. “I suppose I should though I’m not used to escorting Arabella about at her age. Life for a middle class woman living a quiet life in Oxford is far different from the glittering ballrooms of London.”
“Yes, it is,” Jon agreed. “Your daughter will need an escort to whatever social events she attends. Will that be many?”
The earl shrugged. “I’ve received a handful of invitations. I really don’t know many who inhabit this stratosphere, other than having tutored some of them over the years. They’ve been welcoming. I suppose Arabella and I might be invited to a few of their gatherings.”
“I hope more are to come,” he said. “And Lord Barrington? I would like your permission to court your daughter.”
“Oh!” The earl appeared flustered. “Well, I suppose if it is all right with Arabella, it should be with me.” He paused and then said, “Be kind to her, Your Grace.”
He wondered if Barrington had heard of his Duke of Arrogance moniker and decided it was merely a father cautioning a suitor to do right by his daughter.
“I will, my lord.” He offered his hand. “It has been a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to seeing you at tea tomorrow afternoon.”
He provided the earl with his address and excused himself. Returning to the ballroom, he scanned the room for Arabella. She was with Elizabeth—and surrounded by a bevy of men. Jealousy soared within him and he strode toward the group. Someone touched his arm and he stopped. It was Weston.
“It seems a metamorphosis has taken place in your absence. Lady Arabella has suddenly emerged from her cocoon and is considered a brilliant butterfly,” his friend said.
“Where did all these men come from?” he asked, bewildered by the attention she was receiving.
“I believe part of it stems from having danced the last two numbers with dukes. And the supper dance beforehand. The rest? It seems they are former pupils of Lord Barrington’s and knew Lady Arabella during their university days.”
“I wanted her to be accepted,” Jon said, shaking his head.
Weston laughed and slapped him on the back. “It seems you’re going to have competition. Heavy competition from the looks of it. Of course, you can challenge a few to a boxing match and beat them to a bloody pulp as you’re so wont to do at Gentleman Jack’s. I doubt they’d show the lady their faces after that, all bruised and battered and missing a few teeth.”
“Don’t push me, Weston,” he warned. “I may do that very thing.”
He looked as Arabella’s dance card was being passed from man to man. Without a goodbye to his friend, he muscled his way into the circle and snatched the card before its holder could sign it. Thank goodness he had for only one slot remained on it.
Marking his name in the last spot, he said, “Lady Arabella, you almost forgot that you had promised to save the final dance for me.”
He returned the now-filled programme to her with a smile and saw the pink flush on her cheeks.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she said as Elizabeth helped attach it to her wrist again.
Couples moved toward the dance floor and Lord Atterby offered his hand. Arabella took it and they moved onto the floor, where a lively country reel began. The group of young swains melted away and Elizabeth said to Jon, “It seems our wallflower has become the belle of the ball.”
Chapter Eleven
Arabella tried to maintain her composure as she danced with the Duke of Colebourne. To think she had only danced twice this evening—and both times she partnered with a duke. Colebourne was warm and funny and had her laughing. He didn’t seem like a duke at all, more like a naughty, charming schoolboy. After their dance, he returned her to the sidelines where his wife awaited with her brother. The two were quite striking with their aquamarine eyes and raven locks.
“My duchess and I are off for the evening, Lady Arabella, but we will see you again at tea tomorrow. In the meantime,” Colebourne turned to Treadwell, “my good friend wants your next dance.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” she told him, saying her goodbyes to the duchess and then turning to Treadwell once they’d departed. “You don’t have to dance with me, Your Grace. I fear the Duke of Blackmore put the both of you up to it.”
“What if he did?” Treadwell said, placing her hand on his sleeve. “Yes, Blackmore asked us to look after you for a few minutes but I don’t see it as a chore. More a delight.”
She pursed her lips. “Are you trying to be as charming as Colebourne?”
He laughed as he led her onto the floor. “Did you know that the Duke of Charm is Colebourne’s nickname?”
“No. I’m not party to any ton gossip.” She paused. “Do you have a moniker?”
“The Duke of Disrepute,” he said with a wide smile.
“Oh, dear. Then I may be damaging my reputation by partnering with you,” she said saucily. “Then again, it was already in shreds.”
Treadwell leaned close and whispered in her ear, “The shifting winds in Polite Society may soon turn in your favor, Lady Arabella.” He then stepped away and faced her as the music began and she whirled about the room, eventually returning to him by song’s end.
As the duke escorted her from the ballroom floor toward Lady Elizabeth, he said, “Be prepared for the onslaught you will face.”
His cryptic words caused her to frown. Arabella had no idea what he meant by them. Then suddenly, she was surrounded by a bevy of men. Familiar men. Ones she had known at Oxford as students of her father’s. As the sea surrounded her, Treadwell winked—and moved from her sight.
“Do you remember me, Miss Jennings? It’s been five years since I graduated from Oxford.”
