In Need of a Duke (The Heart of a Duke Book 1) (5 page)

Her vision blurred. Aldora removed her spectacles and made to move the smudge of dirt from the glass as a teardrop slipped down her cheek.

“We meet again, my lady.”

Aldora gasped. Her spectacles slipped from her fingers and toppled to the gardens below.

She spun around, a hand pressed to her breast as she came face to face with the Marquess of St. James.

Michael Knightly had battled through the tedium of the evening. He’d not turned from the sickeningly fascinated stares and the curious whispers tittered behind fans and hands.

Except after the monotony of it all, he’d needed to escape. Just for a short while. The crush of the ballroom reminded him of how much he loathed
ton
functions. He far preferred life in Pembrokeshire, overseeing the men who worked in his coal mines. Hundreds of families were dependent upon the success of his operation, and Michael prided himself on the quality work conditions and benefits he offered to those who worked for him. Those men and women were honest. They appreciated the value of hard work and were fair. Unlike the
ton
, those who found work in the mines were not self-serving, driven by only material gain and societal standing.

He’d made his way to the balcony, craving the crisp, clean night air.

Of course his lovely vixen would be here.

He grinned, feeling lighthearted for the first time since he’d entered Lord and Lady Aldridge’s soiree.

Lady Aldora’s quiet curse reached his ears.

His smile grew. “Did you just curse, my lady?”

She ignored him, feeling around the balustrade wall.

His smile grew. “It appears you’ve lost something—again,” he murmured. “Tsk, tsk, I’m beginning to think that perhaps this is more than mere—”

“Will you help me or not, my lord?”

He opened his mouth to correct her, and then paused. The words died on his lips. He knew the moment she learned his real identity he’d see the loathing in those brown eyes. Time would come soon enough for that, but for now he wanted to enjoy the joy in being with someone who did not know he was the scandalous younger brother who’d killed his friend.

Michael inclined his head. “How can I be of assistance?”

“I don’t normally lose things, you know.”

“Oh?” From their brief meetings, it appeared she did.

Lady Aldora must have assumed he was passing judgment. A little frown formed at the corners of her bow-shaped lips. “I don’t,” she insisted. “And if I need point out, the only reason I lost my necklace was because you nearly bowled me over in the park.”

“Because you were walking down a riding path,” he said.

“And now I dropped my sp—belongings, because you startled me with your unexpected intrusion.” She went on as though he’d not spoken.

Michael moved alongside her. The heady citrusy scent of lemons that clung to her filled the air until he was nearly drunk with a desire for the tart fruit. He gripped the edge of the balustrade and leaned forward. Peering into the gardens below, he took a deep breath as he tried to rein in his emotions.

He frowned.

“That bad?” she said.

He glanced down. Just five or six inches shy of his six foot three inch frame, Lady Aldora towered over ladies and most lords. All he had to do was angle his head ever so slightly and their lips would brush. “There is a row of hedges below,” he explained, his voice hoarse to his own ears.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth and leaned forward.

“There is only one solution.”

“We must go below,” she finished for him.

He’d been going to say that he would have to go down and search for the missing item, but her breathy suggestion danced around them. His gaze wandered back toward the empty gardens. Only now that Lady Aldora had raised the scandalous possibility, he found he rather liked the idea of dancing with the danger of discovery and leading her down into the forbidden gardens below.

“My lord?” she prodded.

Michael held out his arm.

Lady Aldora hesitated for the slightest moment before placing the tips of her fingers on his coat sleeves and allowing him to guide her toward the steps.

“I must thank you for your help,” she said.

“You do know if I’m to help you that you’ll eventually need to confide what it is you’ve lost.”

If he hadn’t been peering at her from the corner of his eyes, he’d have failed to note the way her mouth tightened into a firm, unyielding line. He waited.

“It really wasn’t my fault,” she confessed.

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

At the dry humor lacing his words, her pursed lips slanted down at the corners. Even frowning she possessed a unique beauty that Michael believed could rival Athena.

“My lord—”

“If we are to avoid discovery, I’d suggest you lower your voice, my lady. That is if you are attempting to avoid discovery.” He shot her a bemused look. “Ahh, so it would seem you are planning to meet someone out here. Tell me.” He leaned close. “Has a certain lord garnered your affections?”

“You presume too much, my lord,” she said a touch too quickly. The pale moonlight highlighted the splotches of color that heightened her cheeks. Hmm, so the young lady had put rather a lot of thought into securing a match with the Marquess of St. James. The thought shouldn’t rankle…and yet, it did. Very much.

Jealousy churned in his gut. Michael shoved aside the unpleasant (and unwelcome) emotion.

They moved through the grass still slicked wet from an earlier morning shower. Lady Aldora slipped and he wrapped an arm about her waist, holding her up.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Michael led her to the row of shaped topiaries that rested at the base of the balustrade and stopped. He gestured to the ground. “What is it we are looking for this time? An earbob?”

She shook her head. “Though if it were an earbob, I venture it would be nigh on impossible to find.”

“You are right there, my lady. A glove?”

“No.”

“A fan then?”

Pale pink color continued to grow in her cheeks until blazing red splotches glowed in the moonlight. Hmm, fascinating. Michael fell silent. What had his vixen lost this time?

“Uh-you see I dropped my, my…”

“Your?”

“Spectacles.”

Michael grinned. So the lady wore glasses.

Lady Aldora’s lips tightened. “Do you find that funny, my lord?”

Somehow it made her all the more perfect. It also well explained her inability to see him or her missing necklace in Hyde Park those two days ago.

He held a hand to his heart. “Not at all, my lady.” He directed his attention toward the ground, dropping to a knee, he felt around the damp earth for the missing treasure.

She sank down beside him and her mint green skirts fanned a soft breeze upon his skin. Michael sucked in a breath and glanced over at her. What was it about this bespectacled, troublesome miss that had so captivated him? Why when the last thing he wanted or needed were any emotional entanglements should he be so intrigued by this small slip of a woman?

Lady Aldora caught her lower lip between her teeth. Brown eyes flecked with gold held his, and he was overwhelmed by a desire to lose himself in their shimmering depths.

Michael gave his head a shake. Good God, where had this poetic drivel come from?

“Are you all right, my lord?”

If he were smart, he’d storm off and escape this maddening hold she possessed over him. She was a sorceress and he was helpless to resist her lure.

“My lord?”

Michael cupped her cheek, his fingers taking the time to memorize the satiny smoothness of her flesh. Her lashes fluttered as she leaned into his touch, and he wanted nothing more in that moment than to lay her down and worship her beneath the moon’s gentle beams.

There was no helping it. He was lost.

Chapter Three

A
ldora knew there was everything scandalous about her being alone with the Marquess of St. James. Since her father’s death, sensibility had dictated her every action. Even her decision to pursue the marquess had stemmed from her need for a gentleman who possessed a distinguished title, power, and the trace of scandal that would make him slightly less than illustrious. After all, what gentleman would burden himself with a debt-ridden family and a dowerless wife?

All the rules drummed into her head from early on flew right out at the touch of his hand.

The feel of his skin on hers, the smoldering intensity of his sapphire gaze, the unabashed teasing that drew her to him were far from logical and reasonable decisions. No, St. James, this relative stranger to her had begun to make her crave…him—the man, not the title. Aldora reached up and stroked the pendant at her neck, the metal heart all but burned her fingers. The talisman that had brought love and happiness to her friends who’d worn it before her had worked its magic upon Aldora.

As if drawn by her movement, the marquess’s gaze lowered, and then lingered upon the rapid rise and fall of her décolletage. He held his hand up. “May I have this dance?”

Logic reared its bothersome head as a quiet laugh escaped her. “But there is no music.”

He arched a single brow. “Shh, don’t you hear it?”

Aldora strained to hear the distant sounds of the orchestra’s strings. She shook her head. As long as she could remember, her vision had been poor. She’d never before realized her hearing, too, was a problem.

“Then you aren’t listening to what is right before you,” he chided. “Close your eyes.”

She hesitated for the fraction of a moment before doing as he bid.

“Now listen. What do you hear?”

Aldora listened. The chirp of crickets filled the quiet. She smiled.

“Ahh, so you hear it. What else do you hear, my lady?”

She focused on the nighttime song of a lone robin. “A bird,” she whispered.

A breeze rustled the trees around them and set the leaves to dancing.

“And what else?”

Aldora opened her eyes. “You. I hear you, my lord.”

“Michael. I want you to call me by my given name.”

Aldora had scoured through the book of peers. Milburn Michael Christopher Knightly, the Marquess of St. James. He preferred to use his middle name, and it suited him vastly better than his given one.

It was a scandalous proposition and yet…

“Very well. Michael,” she said, testing out the feel of his name on her lips. In the secret of these grounds, it felt right.

Michael. The archangel who’d defeated the demon. How perfectly appropriate for this man who would slay Aldora’s monsters, even if he did not yet know it.

He placed his hand at her waist and proceeded to waltz her through the garden, dancing to the night music. Their body movement was in symphonic harmony; he seemed attuned to her every step. Aldora studied the rugged planes of his cheeks. Here she was so very close to that which she’d schemed these many weeks over, a match with the Marquess of St. James. Yet as they danced around the grounds, she wasn’t thinking about her father’s debt or her sisters’ security, or the material possessions they’d been forced to sell off.

All she could think about was him, and how being in his arms felt like she’d at last discovered everything she’d never realized she needed or wanted.