Simply Voracious (2 page)

Paul St. Clare prowled the edge of the ballroom, avoiding the bright smiles and come-hither looks of the latest crop of debutantes. Where on earth had Lucky gone? She was supposed to be dancing the waltz with him, and then he was taking her into supper. It was the only reason he was attending this benighted event after all.

Unfortunately, since the death of the sixth Duke of Ashmolton, speculation as to the new duke’s potential successor had alighted on Paul, hence the sudden interest of the ladies of the
ton
. He’d grown up with the vague knowledge that he was in the line of succession, but hadn’t paid his mother’s fervent interest in the subject much heed until the other male heirs had started to die off in increasing numbers.

And now, here he was, the heir apparent to a dukedom he neither wanted nor felt fit to assume. It was always possible that the duke would produce another child, although unlikely, because of his wife’s age. But Paul knew that even beloved wives died, and dukes had been known to make ridiculous second marriages in order to secure the succession. Paul’s own father, the current duke’s second cousin, had only produced one child before he died in penury, leaving his family dependent on the generosity of the Haymores for a home. In truth, Paul considered Lucky’s parents his own, and was very grateful for the care they had given him.

Paul nodded at an army acquaintance, but didn’t stop to chat. All his friends seemed to have acquired younger sisters who were just dying to meet him. In truth, he felt hunted. If he had his way, he’d escape this gossip-ridden, perfumed hell and ride up north to the clear skies and bracing company of his best friend, Gabriel Swanfield. But he couldn’t even do that, could he? Gabriel belonged, heart and soul, to another.

Paul stopped at the end of the ballroom that led out on to the terrace, and wondered if Lucky had gone out into the gardens. He could do with a breath of fresh air himself. He was about to pass through the open windows when he noticed a familiar figure standing on the balcony staring out into the night.

Paul’s stomach gave a peculiar flip. The sight of his commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Constantine Delinsky, always stirred his most visceral appetites. Of Russian descent, Delinsky was tall and silver-eyed with prematurely white hair that in no way diminished his beauty. Paul always felt like a stuttering idiot around the man.

Delinsky was looking out into the gardens of the Mallorys’ house with a preoccupied frown. Paul briefly debated whether to disturb him, but the opportunity to speak to someone who wouldn’t care about his newly elevated status was too appealing to resist.

“Good evening, sir.”

Constantine turned and half smiled. “Good evening, Lieutenant St. Clare. I didn’t realize you were here tonight. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not particularly,” Paul said. “I find all these people crammed into one space vaguely repellant.”

Again, that slight smile that made Paul want to do whatever he was told. “I can understand why. As a soldier, I always fear an ambush myself.”

“Are you waiting for someone, sir?” Paul asked.

“No, I was just contemplating the coolness of the air outside, and deciding whether I wished to stay for supper or leave before the crush.” Delinsky’s contemplative gaze swept over Paul. “Did you come with Swanfield?”

“Alas, no, sir. Gabriel and his wife are currently up north taking possession of his ancestral home.”

Constantine raised his eyebrows. “Ah, that’s right, I’d forgotten Swanfield had married.”

“I’d like to forget it, but unfortunately the man is so damned content that I find I cannot begrudge him his happiness.”

“Even despite your loss?”

“
My
loss?” Paul straightened and stared straight into Delinsky’s all-too-knowing eyes.

Delinsky winced. “I beg your pardon, that was damned insensitive of me.”

“Not insensitive at all. What do you mean?”

Delinsky lowered his voice. “I always believed you and Swanfield were connected on an intimate level.”

Paul forced a smile. “There’s no need for delicacy, sir. Gabriel was happy to fuck me when there was no other alternative. He soon realized the error of his ways, or more to the point, I realized the error of mine.”

Delinsky continued to study him and Paul found he couldn’t look away. “Perhaps you had a lucky escape, St. Clare.”

“You think so?”

“Or perhaps the luck is all mine.”

A slow burn of excitement grew in Paul’s gut. “What exactly are you suggesting, sir?”

Constantine straightened. “Would you care to share a brandy with me at my lodgings? I find the party has grown quite tedious.”

Paul wanted to groan. “Unfortunately I accompanied my family to the ball. I feel honor bound to escort them home as well.”

“As you should.” Constantine shrugged, his smile dying. “It is of no matter.”

Paul glanced back at the ballroom and then at the man in front of him. Despite Delinsky’s easy acceptance of Paul’s reason for not leaving with him, Paul desperately wanted to consign his family to hell and follow this man anywhere. Gabriel was lost to him. He needed to move past that hurt and explore new pastures. And when it came down to it, he had always lusted after Constantine Delinsky.

“Perhaps you might furnish me with your address, sir, and I can join you after I’ve dispensed with my duties.”

“It really isn’t that important, St. Clare.”

“Perhaps it isn’t to you, but it is to me,” Paul said softly. “Give me your direction.”

2

“L
ucinda, dear, whatever is the matter? You jump like a scalded cat every time the door knocker goes. Are you expecting anyone in particular?”

Lucky glanced at her mother and managed a smile. She didn’t really expect Jeremy to breach the forbidding walls of Haymore House, the Ashmolton mansion on Portland Square. But, if he really expected to marry her, he would have to confront her father at some point.

“I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

The new Duchess of Ashmolton put her sewing aside and stared at her daughter with a worried frown. “You don’t look as if you are sleeping. Is it the move to the new house?” She glanced around the palatial drawing room and gave a palpable shudder. “I must admit that these new ducal surroundings are rather too grand for me too.”

“It is rather strange, Mama,” Lucky hastened to agree. “I am finding it difficult to sleep, and poor Milly keeps getting lost when she goes from the kitchens to my room.”

“She’s not the only one who gets lost,” the new duchess said gloomily. “If it wasn’t for Parsons, I think I’d never find my way anywhere. But we’ll get used to it. It’s far harder on your father, you know. The previous duke was very secretive about his affairs, and as he lived to such an advanced age, it appears he had a lot to be secretive about.”

“So I understand. I certainly feel sorry for poor Papa.” Lucky’s stomach gave an uncomfortable jolt as Parsons appeared at the door with a gentleman behind him. “Mama, it appears we have a guest.”

She let out her breath as Paul St. Clare entered the room and greeted her mother with his usual affection. His blond hair was damp from the rain and his top boots scuffed. He never seemed to care about his appearance as much as most of the soldiers she knew, and he was always getting into trouble for it with his commanding officers.

Despite his easy airs and manners, he’d changed considerably since his capture and long imprisonment in Spain. Beneath his charm was an impenetrable layer of steel that had deflected any concern or interest his family had wished to bestow on him since his return. There was a restlessness about him now that both attracted and repelled Lucky. It was as if he was no longer quite civilized and hated the restraints society placed on him. She wasn’t sure if she wished she had his courage, or hated that he made her feel so boring and ordinary.

“Good afternoon, Aunt. I came to see how you are doing in your new home.” Paul glanced up at the gloomy portrait of the fourth duke killing a stag. “I suspect you might need to do some redecorating before you really begin to feel at home.”

The new duchess laughed. “Indeed. I fear it will take me quite a while to change anything. I’m still convinced my father-in-law will pop out and start scolding me.”

Paul grinned, his teeth white against his slightly tanned skin. “He was something of an ogre, wasn’t he? I know he reduced my poor mama to tears on many happy occasions.”

After accepting the offer of tea, Paul came to sit by Lucky, his searching gaze roaming her face, his hands capturing hers in one easy motion.

“What happened to you at the ball the other night?” he murmured so that her mother couldn’t hear. “You abandoned me to the matchmaking mamas and their obnoxious daughters.”

“I . . .” To her horror, Lucky found that she couldn’t speak. Paul’s brown eyes narrowed and he drew her to her feet.

“Aunt, Lucinda promised to show me a book she found in the library. May we go and fetch it? We’ll be back in a trice.”

He took Lucky’s hand and whisked her out of the drawing room, down the stairs, and into the grand library below. As Paul was considered part of the family, Lucky knew her mother wouldn’t object in the slightest to them being alone together. He shut the door and leaned against it, his arms folded over his chest.

“Out with it, Lucky. What’s wrong?”

Lucinda turned her back on Paul and walked away from him. For the first time in her life, she realized that she didn’t want to blurt out her troubles to him. Other people might think Paul too sweet to hurt a fly, but she knew differently. She had a horrible suspicion that he’d immediately demand the name of her seducer, challenge Jeremy to a duel, and be halfway to depriving her father of his last remaining heir if she let him.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry I left you at the ball. I slipped in the garden and ripped a huge hole in my skirt. I had to ask someone to fetch Emily so that I could gather up my torn petticoats and escape through the garden before anyone saw me.”

He didn’t answer her, and after a moment she turned to face him.

“I’m sorry you ripped your gown.” He angled his head to one side, his expression still courteous, but far too determined for Lucinda’s comfort. “Now tell me what really happened.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She managed to hold his gaze. “I’m quite sure, Paul.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ask Emily. She was with me on the ride home.”

“And she’d lie about anything for you.” He sighed. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me all about it?”

She spun away from him again, her arms wrapped around herself. “I’m not a child anymore, Paul. Please don’t talk to me like that.”

He leaned back against the door, blocking her exit. “You are a beautiful woman, Lucky. Even I have noticed that.”

“Even you?” She raised her chin at him. “I thought I’d always be your annoying little sister.”

His smile was wry. “Not my sister, no, never that, but I must admit that your growing into a beauty did surprise me.”

She felt tears threaten. “I’m no beauty.”

He considered her as if she were a piece of fine art he had never seen before. “Yes, you are. I’m not surprised you’ve taken so well with the
ton.
”

“Not that well.”

Goodness,
she wanted to get away from his searching gaze before she forgot herself and cried out her fear and shame into the comfort of his shoulder as she’d always done before. But she couldn’t do that. She was beyond cuddles and reassurances now. The choices she faced now were far more painful than even he could protect her from.

“Lucky? Whatever is wrong? Let me help you.”

She looked up at his darling face, his brown eyes dark with concern, his whole body angled toward her. He would do anything for her. She’d always loved him, and now it was her turn to protect him. She had a horrible suspicion that if she begged for his help, he’d offer it unreservedly, and it wouldn’t be fair to involve him when he wasn’t in love with her, had never been in love with her.

“We should be getting back. Mama will be worried and you’ll be wanting your tea, I’m sure.”

She marched purposefully toward the door.

“Damn it, Lucky.” He caught her elbow in a firm grip and yanked her against his side. She couldn’t help flinching away from his suddenly intimidating male strength. Her breathing shortened. Could he hurt her, hold her down like Jeremy had? She’d never thought about it before, never considered how weak she was....

“Let me go.” Her voice wobbled and she hated it, hated what Jeremy had done to her anew.

“Lucky . . .”

He released her immediately, and opened the door wide for her to pass by him. She picked up her pale blue muslin skirts and made a very undignified run for the stairs.

Paul watched Lucky go with a frown. What the hell was wrong with her? When he’d caught her arm she’d stared at him as if he were a stranger intent on harming her. His suspicions intensified. What had changed to make her regard him as dangerous? Had some other man hurt her?
Touched
her?

He started after her and then slowed at the bottom of the stairs. He certainly couldn’t storm into her mother’s drawing room and demand answers she was obviously unwilling to give him. He could only hope she’d confide in him eventually. She always had before. He gripped the banister rail tightly. She
loved
him. His own arrogance alarmed him and he shook his head. Perhaps she didn’t love him anymore and another had claimed her heart. He should be relieved about that, as he had very little to offer her.

He started slowly up the stairs. Then why wasn’t he pleased for her? Was he truly such a spoilsport that he wanted her to love only him? Disgusted at himself, he resolved to offer her his support and wait patiently for Lucky to reveal whatever was distressing her in her own good time.

After a pleasant half hour, Paul took his farewell and made his way to Lieutenant Colonel Delinsky’s lodgings on Half Moon Street. Delinsky had invited him for an early supper and a visit to the theater. For the first time in a long while, Paul was aware of excitement coursing through his veins. On the night after the ball, Delinsky had proved a perfect companion, and Paul had forgotten his former nerves and actually enjoyed himself.