Dare to Be a Duchess, page 10
“No. Uncle Robert is ecstatic about the prospect of you finding a husband through whatever means necessary, as am I. You need to get married and settle down.”
Wolf thought he saw a flicker of hurt appear in her eyes, but it was gone so fast that perhaps he had imagined it.
A soft sigh escaped her mouth. “You know very well that I’m accepted in the ton, albeit grudgingly, thanks only to you. No man wants to marry me, and I don’t want to marry any of those men.”
“That’s utter nonsense,” he huffed. “I’m certain some man will be happy to marry you.” Him included, should his circumstances be different. “You just have to be open to accept it. And if you don’t, I will find someone who will be perfect for you.”
Lara made a face and took a few agitated steps away. She looked ahead into the distance and then returned to him. “If you are resolute in your decision, then I will find someone of my own choosing. Whether he is from the ton or not is left to be seen.”
“What do you mean?” Wolf asked. “Of course he’ll be from the ton.”
At her continued silence and stubborn set of her chin, awareness dawned. Wolf vehemently shook his head. “No. I will not allow you to attend events like that Delacour masquerade again. Absolutely not! You will not step outside the ballrooms of the ton, Lara. I prohibit it.”
“I will do what I want, and you cannot stop me,” she snapped.
Why did she have to be so adamant and contrary? Agreed, he wanted her married, and though it had pinched him to even think it, he would look for someone suitable for her to marry. Letting her go was the only way to escape the madness that gripped him when she was near.
However, seeing the myriad expressions cross Lara’s face, Wolf was certain she was planning something nefarious, something that he would despise. She could be devious when she wanted to be, and he couldn’t keep a permanent eye on her. Fear for her safety engulfed him. At the same time, a poignant thought struck him. “Is that why you were at that masquerade? Were you looking for a husband?”
“Perhaps. What’s it to you, anyway?” Lara responded sharply. “You want me to get married, so I will find someone. Why do you care about the means I choose to adopt when you get the end result you desire?”
Wolf took a step closer to her. “I want you to marry, but I don’t want you to get hurt. And these places you visit are dangerous. There is no one worthy of you to be found there.”
“Is that right?” Lara smiled. “I guess I will find that out firsthand when I visit Richmond tomorrow night. I believe Mrs. Shelby is holding her annual soiree. Isn’t it open for one and all? It should be a good place to find someone suitable, don’t you think?”
Wolf gasped, aghast. American born and bred, Mrs. Shelby was a rich widow who held some of the most scandalous parties in London. Even though her parties were far tamer than Madame Delacour’s, it was not a place for naïve innocents like Lara. And her gardens were dangerous. God only knew what mischief went on in the multitude of shadowed pathways that surrounded them.
“You can’t go there alone, Lara. That place is filled with rakes and married men out for a tryst. It’s fraught with peril.”
“So what? Since I have to leave it to you to find me someone at the end of six months, I might as well enjoy a little and live.”
She tossed her dark mane behind her.
“I have to go, Wolf. The sun is rising, and more people will be out riding soon,” Lara said, squinting at the horizon.
Taking the reins of her horse, she walked him to a broken tree stump and within seconds was seated atop him. Reaching her, Wolf pressed a hand on her knee.
“Wait,” he said. “Please don’t do anything you will regret.”
Shrugging his hand off, she clicked her tongue and urged her horse away.
Wolf stared after her departing back. Bloody damn woman.
Chapter Thirteen
Throwing the Richmond challenge on Wolf had been thrilling. Carrying it out was far more difficult than Lara had expected. She had asked Camille to join her, but her friend had declined due to another engagement she had to attend with her mother, and Lara had promised Wolf to not involve Anne ever in such outings.
Unable to sleep that night, Lara paced the length of her chamber. In retrospect, it had been stupid to taunt Wolf about the Richmond party. The truth was that a spear had pierced her chest when he had offered to find someone for her to marry. How could he even suggest that after all that they had shared?
Annoyed once again, she stood by her balcony door and gazed at the shining moon above. Stupid. She was so stupid to still be thinking about him when he so obviously cared nothing for her. She ought to find the courage and go by herself to the Richmond event.
She had stopped her own husband hunt after Wolf had caught her and Anne at that masquerade, but not anymore. She would see it through. She didn’t want to dream of Wolf anymore. She did not want to be lonely anymore. And the last thing she wanted was Wolf choosing someone for her. Considering how she had started to feel for him, that would devastate her. Her mind made up, she returned to her bed.
The next morning, after indulging in a long, leisurely bath, all the while planning for the evening ahead, Lara stepped out of her room and was intercepted by her maid, Mary, who handed her a note in heavy formal stationery. Lara immediately recognized the ducal seal on it.
Seeing that Lara had gone still, Mary asked, “Is everything okay, miss?”
Ebony-skinned, dark-haired, and plump, Mary had been with her ever since Uncle Robert had brought Lara to England. She had always been protective of Lara and tended to fuss over her all the time, and typically Lara loved her for it, but right now she just wanted to read this unexpected note from the one person she’d been trying so hard to forget.
“I’m fine. Thank you for the note,” Lara said and shut the door behind her. She took a moment to compose her running heart. Scolding herself for her irrational reaction, she tore the envelope open and pulled out the note.
Wear a mask and a cloak with a hood. A black carriage will be waiting in the mews behind your house at ten o’clock sharp tonight. I’ll accompany you to Richmond.
- W
Wolf was escorting her to Mrs. Shelby’s? Excitement buzzed through her veins at the prospect of attending an event with him, on his arm, away from prying eyes. That he would want to attend with her, no matter the reason, made her feel a dash giddy.
But then she calmed her raging mind. He hadn’t wanted her to go for her safety, so she could only imagine in his mind, the best way to keep her safe was to escort her himself. Or maybe he wanted to aid her marriage search. One, or both, of those must be it. She was already in way over her head where he was concerned, and she better not make things worse for herself by dreaming the impossible.
Standing up, she rubbed her hands in delight. She had a party to prepare for and a husband to search for.
…
An unmarked carriage awaited her as she stepped out the back gate of her house. The door to the carriage opened, and Wolf peered down at her. His hand reached for hers, and he helped her in. A shiver of apprehension ran down her spine as the horses lurched forward and the carriage rumbled off, wending down the streets toward Richmond.
Although shrouded by darkness and silence, Lara could feel the weight of his stare on her. Heavy breaths filled the air between them, their gazes clashing and parting, the same dance repeating over and over again.
Sounds and smells of the river close by drifted inside the carriage. The lights from the mansion they were heading toward shimmered across the surface of the river in the distance. With her sitting so close to him like this, his powerful presence was a reminder of everything that had occurred between them, and her nerves were stretched taut with tension, her senses swimming in awareness.
“Have you attended this event before?” Lara asked, breaking the stillness.
“Yes,” Wolf answered on a sigh, his eyes riveted on her face.
“Is the party very big? Will many people be attending?” Lara asked as the carriage drew closer to their destination.
“You will see,” Wolf said just as the carriage came to a halt under an arched portico.
Wolf descended and took his time looking around before ushering Lara outside. She watched him run his eyes over her form.
“The mask stays on the whole night. Is that clear?”
Lara frowned. “How will I meet anyone, then?”
Wolf narrowed his eyes. “Either the mask stays or we leave now.”
When she jutted her chin out, Wolf said, “Tonight is not for you to husband hunt. It’s for you to experience what goes on here and hopefully understand once and for all that you won’t find any suitor here. I will not allow you to taint the Wolverton name with a scandal, which will happen if anyone recognizes you. You understand?”
Lara sniffed. “Fine, whatever. Anything else you wish to dictate, your grace?”
“Not for the moment.”
Lips curving in response to her agitated huff, Wolf held his arm out to her and led her around the massive house. He guided her down a shaded path, heavily covered by towering trees, the trail winding around to the back of the imposing house. The strains of music grew louder as they walked deeper inside the gardens toward the center where the party was in full swing.
Men and women milled about around them, couples walking arm in arm, raucous laughter emanating from various groups. Lara’s head twisted from side to side as she took everything in, excited by all she was witnessing. There were so many people in attendance. Her eyes widened when she recognized some of the married men of the ton. They flaunted their identity at ease while mingling freely with their paramours. Only a few women were masked and cloaked like her.
A large space in the front was set up for dancing, where couples waltzed to an orchestra. Hundreds of lanterns swayed overhead from the branches of the trees, and fire sconces on tall pillars brightened the entire area.
“It’s beautiful!” Lara breathed, staring raptly at everything around her. Releasing his arm, she took a step behind and gazed up at lanterns above. She returned to him, giddy with the thought of experiencing all that this event had to offer. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have Anne and Cammy here with her.
She wanted to savor this evening, but Wolf was in a hurry, as if he wanted to finish this night as soon as he could. He paused in front of a tightrope walker for a few seconds then marched her toward a minstrel and, a few seconds later, rushed her in front of a juggler.
When he attempted to drag her to the next entertainment, Lara dug in her feet.
“Wolf, wait,” she protested.
Before he could respond, she heard his name being called.
“Wolverton!”
They both turned to see the Earl of Paxton bearing down upon them.
Wolf swore under his breath as Paxton strode toward them, a buxom lady glued to his side. The last thing he wanted was this man recognizing Lara and creating trouble for them. Wolf took a quick look at Lara, relieved to see her fully covered, noting especially that her gorgeous dark mane was hidden from sight. He grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed her one, waiting for Paxton to reach them.
“Well, well, the wolf is out to play again?” Paxton gibed. “Me, bumping into you and your”—he cast a searching glance at the lady by Wolf’s side—“paramour is becoming increasingly common now, isn’t it? I just had to drop by and say hello, eh, Wolverton?”
“You shouldn’t have bothered, Paxton. Don’t you know people visit such events to be left alone?” Wolf countered, adopting a casual stance. He drank from his glass, finishing its contents in a smooth gulp. Paxton was a prick. He was conceited, opinionated, and thought himself better than everyone. Wolf had heard ample stories of his unkindness to his staff, and several rumors abounded about the way he ill-treated women. Wolf did not like him at all.
Paxton’s hard gaze landed on Lara. Thankfully, Lara dipped her head and raised the champagne glass to her lips, hiding herself from the Earl’s ardent inspection.
The lady on Paxton’s arm pressed herself into him and whispered something in his ear.
Taking that as an opportunity, Wolf said, “I suggest you get on with your own entertainment for tonight, Paxton. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Handing both of their empty glasses to a server, Wolf tugged Lara’s hand and drew her away from the crowd, dragging her toward the exit.
“Wait, Wolf!” Lara cried as he continued to pull her behind him.
He paused, releasing her, and crossed his arms in front of him. “We’re leaving. Now. You’ve seen enough, and I don’t want to chance another encounter with the likes of Paxton or someone else recognizing you.”
Lara snorted and pointed a hand at herself. “I’m covered from top to toe. No one can recognize me, not even Paxton. Will you relax? There’s no scandal waiting in the wings to spring down upon you.”
“This isn’t a joke.”
Escorting her like this was madness. Ever since she had declared her intention to attend this event, Wolf had been unable to sleep. If he had stopped her by telling his uncle, then Lara would have found a new way to rebel, something that could have been catastrophic, and he wouldn’t have been able to protect her. Hence, he had decided that taking her to Mrs. Shelby’s event and showing her that she could never find any suitable man amongst that set of people was the only way to make her come to her senses. And now she’d seen it all, and no matter what she said, they ought to leave before someone recognized her.
“I can’t take the risk,” Wolf said. “I was a fool to have brought you here. I—”
Lara put a hand on his lips, shushing him. “All your life, you’ve lived under the fear that you’re going to do something to create a bigger scandal than your father. You are not, because you are not him.”
He flinched. To hear her explain his biggest fear in such simple terms was rather overwhelming. That she even knew was worse. That scandal had molded him to become the hard and proper man he was. It had defined him and his actions since…forever.
She removed her hand from his mouth. “I’ve heard his stories, Wolf, from Uncle Robert and from Anne. You’re indeed nothing like him. You’re a far better man than he was. You are responsible and hardworking and have a strong sense of right and wrong. So stop worrying, please. Nothing bad is going to happen tonight.”
He heaved out a breath.
Lara took a step closer to him, and Wolf forgot what he was thinking. A hot flick of desire exploded through his mind, and his attention fixed on her.
Her cloak parted from the throat to her feet to reveal a silky light blue gown. The shifting lights from the lanterns painted her face in light and shadows, and Wolf felt his pulse accelerate. She was stunning. Suddenly, the idea of spending the rest of the evening with her became way too appealing.
Ever since they had arrived, he’d been desperately trying to keep his hands to himself. Being so close to her had been driving him out of his mind. He ached to touch her, and acting on that impulse was becoming more and more tempting.
His attention latched onto her mask—the same black mask she had worn at the Delacour masquerade. That glittering mask was what had created this mess between them in the first place.
But just when he schooled himself to exert more control around her, she reached out and cupped his cheek.
“Tonight, for one night, why don’t you let go and live a little?” Lara asked in a soft whisper. “Forget that you’re a duke, that I’m your uncle’s ward. Forget everything, and let’s have some fun. Let’s just be Wolf and Lara.”
“Tristan,” Wolf rasped out, putting his hand on hers. “Call me by name.”
No one ever called him Tristan anymore, not one person, and suddenly it seemed imperative to him that she do so.
“Tristan,” Lara whispered, ever so softly, moving her hand away from his cheek, but Wolf caught her hand in his, unwilling to let go.
How did Lara understand him so well? His biggest worry and his greatest fear was that he would become like his father, maybe worse. He had stayed away from cheap liaisons and lived a stringent life, one devoid of laughter and fun. He always did whatever was right and acceptable. But Lara was right; he wasn’t like his sire. He was a better man.
His heart thundered and his mind roared at him to take up on her offer and, for just one night, let loose. He had been Wolverton and Wolf for far too long. He was known to be the epitome of propriety. Ever since he had gained his majority and had taken over the running of his estates from his uncle Robert, he had done everything that needed to be done to grow his wealth, to make his estates prosperous, and while his friends had been wining, dining, and gambling, he had only grown richer. He had worked hard to restore his family’s name to its former glory. One night of him enjoying himself wouldn’t ruin that. He could be Tristan for this one night, and tomorrow he could return to being the proper duke that he was.
He held his hand out to her. “Miss Ramsay, it would be my pleasure to escort you around tonight.”
Eyes sparkling, Lara nodded. “Your Grace, the pleasure will be all mine.”
“Tristan.”
She smiled. “Very well…Tristan.”
Grasping her hand in his, Wolf led her back down the gardens, this time waiting till she had her fill of every performance. An hour passed watching the various performers and drinking several glasses of champagne. When a stilt walker leaned to offer her a rose, Lara beamed, and Wolf felt his own lips curve. She thanked the man with grace and gave him a curtsey, her happiness a sight to behold. Reaching forward, Wolf lowered the hood from her hair. He plucked the rose from her hand and fixed it at the side of her ear.
