Lady Hope and the Duke of Darkness: The Baxendale Sisters Book 3 (10 page)

His party was a snap decision, designed to foster the friendship between Sophie and Hope. Although he couldn’t deny something else lay behind it. He wanted to see Hope in his drawing room playing his pianoforte. Absurd as it was, he seemed unable to resist, even though she would soon be married to Winslow, and be gone from his life.

His gaze drifted over Hope’s ravishing form, from the pertly cocked hat set upon her golden curls to her neat waist. The breeze lifted the hem of her habit, exposing a dainty, heeled boot and that slim ankle he’d held in his hands. He dragged his gaze away and rode past them. “I believe I’ll ride on, ladies.” He touched his crop to his hat and nudged his horse into a canter in search of masculine company. He no longer thought that an attraction to another woman another woman made him disloyal to his wife’s memory. He and Elizabeth had been married for only a short time, and he felt guilt that she’d spent much of her short life with him, when he hadn’t been the husband she wanted. Elizabeth would have been happier married to an English country gentleman, but her gentle prettiness had attracted him, and her father had been only too delighted to welcome his suit. He now struggled to remember her with any clarity. His son was another matter. Toby, his smiling brown eyes, Daniel remembered vividly. He could never supply another woman with a child and possibly experience that kind of great, great, loss again.

He saw the Duke of Winslow ahead, riding with friends. Canning had mentioned the duke to Daniel; Winslow’s mistress was common knowledge. She’d been with him for years. It was said that she’d taken precedence over his wife, who’d been a dispirited woman. Not unusual for a married man to take a mistress, but Daniel didn’t like it, not if it affected Hope’s happiness. Still, he’d done enough to warn her and could do no more.

Chapter Nine

Winslow appeared on the Row and rode up to them. “Your Grace, may I present Lady Sophie du Ténèbres,” Hope said.

“How do you do?” Winslow managed to imbue his voice with complete indifference.

As he angled his horse to her side, Hope made a concerted effort to engage him in conversation. “Are you enjoying the Season, Your Grace?”

“Not the cold weather. Ride with me, a moment, Lady Hope. I wish to speak to you.”

After an apologetic glance at Sophie, Hope urged her horse forward.

She glanced at the duke’s set profile. He looked like a man who was used to getting what he wanted. As he most likely did. But did he want her? Until now, he’d neither made a move toward her nor shown considerable interest in anyone else. He’d danced with Pamela and several young debutantes, including Amy Tyndale, who’d looked like a scared rabbit on his arm.

“Lady Pamela tells me there is some unspoken agreement between you and the Duc du Ténèbres.”

Hope gripped the reins tighter. “I’m not sure why she thinks that. I am merely assisting the duke’s half-sister, Lady Sophie, who has recently come to London.” She bit her lip, trying not to display her anger toward Pamela.

“I see.” The duke’s pale eyes scrutinized her. “So I am promised a dance when next we meet?”

“But of course, Your Grace. I shall look forward to it.”

He nodded. “I see Lady Sophie wishes to ride on. Good day.” He rode off to join his companions.

Hope stared after him. She hadn’t realized that Pamela would prove to be such a powerful opponent. She must be desperate to resort to such tactics. Thoughtfully, she guided her horse back to Sophie
. I must be careful around Pamela.

“My goodness, what an autocratic man,” Sophie said.

“I suppose he is. The duke owns considerable property in England.”

“I can’t say I warmed to him. He lacks”—she paused for a moment—“heart.”

Hope gazed at her uneasily. “How can you tell on such a brief acquaintance?”

“A person’s eyes tell us everything, don’t you think?” Sophie said. “If a person has an interest in others, if they are capable of kindness, generosity, and deep feelings. It is all there in the eyes.”

“Perhaps.” Hope did find herself in agreement. One should listen to one’s instincts more often.

Sophie glanced at her. “Such as I found in Daniel’s eyes on our first meeting, even though he wanted nothing to do with me.”

Astonished, Hope turned to stare at her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken. You must be curious, but I cannot yet tell you more.” Sophie gave an apologetic smile. “Shall we ride on?”

****

At Serpentine Road, Daniel joined the ladies to walk their horses across the park to the stables.

Sophie drew her horse closer to Daniel. “We met the Duke of Winslow. He showed particular interest in Lady Hope.”

“That is just the duke’s manner, Lady Sophie,” Hope said. “He wished to give me a message, nothing more.”

“He has a proprietorial air,” Sophie said.

Hope took her bottom lip in her teeth. It was a habit of hers, he’d noted, when something disturbed her.

“You have offended Lady Hope, Sophie.” He regretted the outburst immediately. It had been the thought of Winslow that most annoyed him. Still, she must be more careful of her manners.

Sophie’s forthright attitude did not sit well with some members of the
ton
, where manners were so highly valued they often hid a person’s true feelings and cruel satire applauded. In such an atmosphere, it wasn’t surprising that London was a hotbed of spiteful gossip. He didn’t care for himself, but he burned with fury for what was being said about her.

“I am not at all offended,” Hope said quietly. “Lady Sophie is refreshingly honest. I value that in a person.”

“Quite right. I feel duly reprimanded and must apologize,” he said with a smile.

“Oh dear, now I have offended you, Your Grace,” Hope said, unconcernedly smiling back at him.

“I doubt you could ever offend me, Lady Hope.”

He tightened the reins captivated by the playful light glimpsed in Hope’s eyes before she lowered the brim of her hat.

Sophie silently watched them with a shrewd look; he would be required to fend off her questions when they reached home. Couldn’t a man indulge in a little harmless flirting? Perhaps Sophie had yet to understand the way things were done. He nudged his horse into a canter. Leaving the ladies to their conversation, he rode to the stables. He reminded himself how he needed to cool his ardor with a woman. But for some reason, he couldn’t spur himself on to arrange it.

He didn’t have long to wait. After he and Sophie left Hope at her family home in Adam’s Row, they walked the two blocks to his house, and the conversation turned to Hope, as he knew it would.

Sophie cast him a skeptical glance and shook her head. He sighed. She refused to accept his explanation that the
ton
did a lot of harmlessness flirting. “Daniel, you care for her.”

“I like and admire Hope a great deal,” he said, imbuing his voice with insouciance and trusting this would end the discussion, which he wasn’t enjoying. “She will soon marry the Duke of Winslow. And I will return to France. Which is better for all concerned.” He glanced at Sophie. “Particularly when I find you a suitable husband.”

She raised her chin in that stubborn way she had. “I shall select my own husband, thank you.”

He nodded. “I’m in agreement. But from a list that I provide.”

Sophie didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. The stiffening resistance in every line of her body revealed her emotions. She would change her mind when she met the right man.

He frowned. He had yet to fill that list.

Chapter Ten

When Charity had expressed a wish to visit an exhibition of J.M.W. Turner’s paintings held at the Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, Hope invited Sophie to join them.

The amazing building was designed like an Egyptian temple. They had to pass through two enormous columns and statuary to enter.

“One feels that one is about to enter the land of the Pharaohs,” Sophie said as they paid their shilling.

The interior was equally impressive, with more round columns, carved relief decorations on the ceiling, and walls painted with the Egyptian motifs of papyrus, lilies and lotus flowers.

With a crow of delight, Charity hurried to examine the painted canvasses hanging around the walls.

“Daniel expressed a wish to see the exhibition. I believe he might join us,” Sophie said as she and Hope trailed after Charity.

Hope’s heart gave an annoying flutter.

Charity stopped before a dramatic work depicting a ship swept against rocks in a violent storm. “The way Turner interprets the destructive power of nature…the sublime,” she murmured. “Awe-inspiring.” She wandered farther out of earshot.

Hope preferred a quieter painting of Caernarvon Castle in the golden light of early morn. She was leaning forward to examine the work more closely when a deep voice behind her made her take an unsteady breath. Daniel, as she now thought of him. Even when he wasn’t standing before her, his face haunted her, whether smiling, serious, or thoughtful. He looked far too handsome in his dark greatcoat, a brass-topped cane and his hat in his hands. His welcoming smile, although it encompassed the three of them, seemed intimately meant for her.

“You approve of this painting, Lady Hope?”

Her heart turned over in response to the warm tone of his voice. “I like the way the artist handles light. It’s peaceful. Beautiful.”

“I have a similar one in my house in Ham,” he said. “I wish you could see it. It’s magnificent. I intend to take Sophie there before I leave for France.”

She would never see his home.
She’d been basking in the warmth of his smile and turned suddenly cold. What was she doing forming an affection for this man? It went against common sense to want him. He’d be gone before she knew it.

Hope walked with Sophie and Daniel through the huge room, as Sophie examined the Egyptian hieroglyphs.

“It’s well done, but with a good deal of poetic license, I suspect. Ancient Egypt
is
fascinating.” Sophie sighed. “I want to learn all I can.”

“You spend your days at the museum now,” Daniel said. “Your knowledge must be extensive.”

“I need firsthand knowledge. I want to go to Egypt.”

“I believe it is very hot in Egypt,” Charity commented, as she wandered past them.

Sophie’s eyes glowed. “Yes, but to view the Pyramids and the sphinxes, we have little in England to rival them.”

Daniel frowned. “Perhaps you might find more at the London Library.”

Sophie moved away with a shrug of her shoulders.

Suddenly alone with Daniel, the air around them seemed to still. “Do you plan to leave for France soon?” Hope felt compelled to ask.

“There are matters here to detain me.”

“I see.” Her tongue traced her bottom lip.

His gaze settled on her mouth.

Hot flutters batted at her belly; while she pondered the possibility that he might want her—and what it would be like if he were to kiss her.

“Turner is quite the best artist I have seen,” Charity said behind them.

Daniel’s gaze remained on Hope. “When you ladies have taken your fill of these wonderful paintings, I shall take you to tea.”

Her heart still beating fast, Hope gave a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Your Grace. But I’m not sure how we’ll manage to entice Charity away.”

Once she was home again, Hope relived that moment with Daniel in the Egyptian Hall repeatedly, the way his eyes had captured hers and caused tingles all down her body. Even though he made no move to engage her, she was helplessly drawn to him as a moth to a flame, and it left her frustrated and confused. Her attempts to come to grips with it, to employ reason, failed, and on Saturday evening, she couldn’t tamp down the excitement at seeing him again.

She and her parents alighted from their carriage in front of Daniel’s five-storied townhouse. “It’s impressive don’t you think?” she asked her mother, who had volubly expressed her strong aversion to attending on the way there.

Her father escorted them to the door. “If my affairs continue to prosper, I shall purchase a Mayfair property like this.”

Her mother, at least, was in a better mood when she graciously greeted Daniel in his drawing room.

His dark brown eyes softened when he looked at Hope, making her feel shy. There was something different about him tonight. He was impeccably dressed as usual in a brocade tailcoat and dark trousers, the silver striped waistcoat buttoned tight over his wide chest, his dark hair falling in soft waves from a broad brow. Yet he
was
different. When he smiled into her eyes, she thought she knew. Was it absurd to believe the shadow she’d always felt was there had vanished?

After acquaintances claimed her parents’ attention, she went to speak to Sophie, who immediately drew Hope into a corner.

“You look so pretty, Hope. You always do but especially in primrose.”

“Thank you. And that color is perfect for you.”

Sophie brushed a hand over the beaded bodice of her turkey-red gown trimmed with gold. “I had to fight Mrs. Crisp to have this made. She is most dreadfully straight-laced and would have me forever dressed in white if she had her way. I am not a young débutante, and I don’t wish to look like one.”