The Other Duke (11 page)

Rafe gritted his teeth as yet another titled fop crowded into his personal space and shook his hand until his teeth rattled.

“Your Grace, Your Grace,” the man gushed. “It must be very good to be called that now, eh?”

Rafe extracted his stinging hand and tried very hard not to pull a face that showed just how wrong this man was.

“Under the circumstances, I can hardly celebrate,” he said with a glare. “Remind me again of your name?”

The gentleman’s enthusiasm waned a fraction. “Viscount Eames, Your Grace.”

“Hmmm,” Rafe said

He knew full well he would forget again in a moment, just as he had been with each and every person he had met all night. There was one thing he knew—he had been right to avoid this kind of Society for all these years. There was nothing here to tempt him. Except…

He let his gaze flit across the room to where Serafina stood with a small group of ladies. His wife was in the most beautiful gown, which highlighted her bright eyes and made her skin look almost porcelain. It was marred only by the fact that it was amethyst, a color meant to signal her “mourning” for Cyril’s death.

She had put the gown on that evening with a great deal of dignity, never saying a word that wearing it bothered her, even though he knew full-well that she had despised her would-be fiancé.

Luckily, Society only judged him now as a cousin of hers by marriage who had died. They would both be able to shed the false pretenses of mourning within a few weeks.

She tilted her head as she listened to the story of her companion and smiled, and he was almost undone.

“Circumstances aside,” his own companion continued, like a dog with a bone he couldn’t leave alone. “You must be thrilled to elevate yourself so high. Especially considering your family’s less than sterling reputation in the past.”

Rafe looked at the annoying gentleman. The man couldn’t be but three years older than he was, but a pampered life of excess had made him soft, fat and aged before his time by idleness.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The viscount opened and shut his mouth a few times. “Why, the excessive gambling, Your Grace. The…” His voice dropped. “The women. And didn’t you and your brother once have a race through Hyde Park that nearly unseated the Prince Regent from his horse?”

Rafe pinched his lips together. He had rather hoped everyone would forget that last bit. The Prince himself had been persuaded by a wildly expensive bottle of port to ultimately see it as good fun gone slightly wrong. But Rafe knew he and Crispin had only just avoided a duel of honor with royalty.

“At any rate,” Eames said, filling the silence when Rafe did not. “You cannot tell me you aren’t secretly delighted.”

“Not everyone strives to be a duke,” Rafe said softly.

The man’s eyebrows lifted as if he could not believe it. “Are you saying
that
is why you removed yourself and your new bride from the ducal home?”

“Who said that?” Rafe asked, surprised that this news was something anyone knew about, let alone cared to repeat.

He knew a scandal when he saw one, and the actions he had taken to protect Serafina from the past didn’t rise to that level. Except that he and his new bride were all the talk in general.

He suppressed a moan.

“
Everyone
is talking about it,” the viscount said with a shrug, even though his eyes were bright and focused with glee on Rafe’s answer.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed. He saw now what this man was about. Eames hoped to be the lead in some kind of salacious story. To have the answers to the question that would somehow make him important.

“Well, if everyone is talking about the fact,” Rafe said, taking a drink from the tray of a passing servant, “then they must already know that it is in my nature to do the unexpected.”

His companion was about to say more, but was interrupted by the arrival of their host, the Earl of Aldridge. Aldridge stepped up with a smile for the two.

“Good evening, my lords. Are you both enjoying yourselves?”

The viscount began to nod as if his head was on a spring, but Rafe could hardly keep himself from grimacing even as he said, “Of course. Thank you again for inviting us.”

“You know, Eames, I believe the Marquess of Waterbury was looking for you,” Aldridge said. “In the billiards room.”

Eames’s eyes lit up. “Was he? Then it would be rude to make him wait. Excuse me.”

He darted off into the crowd. Once he was gone, Aldridge sighed. “That man may be the greatest idiot in Society. Which is saying quite a bit.”

Rafe nearly choked on his drink at the unexpected comment. He eyed the earl carefully. Once Rafe had met him earlier in the evening, he had realized he had been at Eton with the man what seemed like a lifetime ago. He recalled having no quarrel with Aldridge, but he had no idea what the earl’s personality was now, decades later.

“Then why invite him?” he asked, observing the answer carefully.

Aldridge let out a long, playfully put-upon sigh. “He is a relation to my dear wife, I’m afraid. Third cousin, or something to that effect. And he tends to come to parties even if he hasn’t been invited. You’ll soon find out.”

Rafe wrinkled his nose. “I have no intention of hosting parties.”

“As a duke, it will be expected of you.”

Rafe groaned. “Great God. Being titled is tedious.”

Aldridge gazed out over the crowd with a far-away look on his face. “It can be, I agree. But it can also be of great benefit to the causes and people you care for.”

Rafe drew back a fraction. He’d never considered that before. Although his brother could care less about Society, his sister might be interested in coming to this world, in “marrying well” as she put it.

“I’m not certain I have any causes,” he said with a grin.

Aldridge returned the expression. “I have a few. Come by the house in a few days and I can persuade you to take them up, as well. With our combined finances and influence, perhaps we could change the world a bit.”

Rafe glanced at the man. Aldridge didn’t seem to be in jest, so he nodded. “Certainly.”

“And now I see my lovely wife is alone for what must be the first time since this party began. I must take the opportunity to dance with her.” Aldridge inclined his head. “I’ll see you soon, Hartholm.”

Rafe muttered some kind of goodbye, even though his attention was drawn again to his own wife. Although she wasn’t alone like Lady Aldridge had apparently been, Serafina drew Rafe to her like a moth to her bright and beautiful flame.

He moved toward her, his gaze never wavering from her exquisite face. When he was a few feet from her, she finally seemed to sense his approach, for she sent him a look from the corner of her eye. Her cheeks darkened in a blush that made him want to sweep her away where he could act out every fantasy she inspired.

Instead, he gave a dashing smile to the women in her small group and said, “Good evening, ladies.”

He saw Serafina exchange a brief look with her best friend Emma Richards, and then she managed to give him another side-glance and joined the others in their good evenings.

“Would you all mind very much if I stole my wife away? We haven’t had a dance tonight.”

Despite the fact that his wife stood beside him, a few of the women looked Rafe up and down. He felt their stares and saw the way they tossed him flirtatious glances, but he never stopped looking at Serafina. No one else held even a fraction of his interest compared to her.

“I would be happy to dance with you, Your Grace,” Serafina finally said. “Excuse me, ladies.”

He locked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her to the dance floor.

“They’re all looking at us,” she said through a clench-toothed smile.

He started and looked around to find she was correct. It seemed almost the entire room had ceased what they were doing in order to watch the couple of the moment take the dance floor.

“You
do
know how to dance, don’t you?” she asked softly.

He laughed. “I said I don’t know how to be a duke, my dear, not a man.”

The music began in that moment. It was a waltz that the orchestra played, so he pulled her close and swept her into the steps, guiding her gently.

Her eyes widened as it became clear that he was proficient in this act.

“I should not have doubted you,” she said with a laugh that cleared the worry from her face.

“No,” he teased. “You should not have.” He looked around and found the crowd was still enamored. “Though I’ve certainly never had an audience such as this.”

She shook her head. “They all want to know about you, but also about
us
. It isn’t all that often that a man inherits a title and a bride in one act. Especially one with as much scandal as Cyril’s death.”

Rafe frowned. From her very tight expression, it seemed she knew more about the truth of Cyril’s accident than he had given her credit for.

“How much do you know?” he asked.

She shrugged even as they spun effortlessly. “Enough to recognize that the men are still talking about it. That I was, in male terms, a cuckold. In truth, I do not care. I wish Cyril would have stuck to his whores. Though I do feel sorry for the poor girl who died in his…” She cleared her throat and wrinkled her nose. “…service.”

“You are truly remarkable,” Rafe breathed.

“Oh stop,” she said, ducking her head with a blush, stumbling in her steps for a brief moment.

“I mean it,” he continued. “You have such dignity in the face of a painful and humiliating situation. I greatly admire you, Serafina.”

She tilted her face to look at him and then nodded slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered.

He examined her more closely, so beautiful, so strong, so intelligent and sensual. And more than anything in the world, he wanted to touch her.

“Will you go home with me?” he asked.

She did not answer, but he saw her gaze slip to the crowd at the edge of the dance floor.

“Surely we’ve put in enough of an appearance to satisfy the curious,” he said as he tightened his fingers around her waist. She sucked in a breath at the action and he smiled in triumph. “I want to be alone with you.”

“Yes,” she said softly.

His eyes went wide, for he had guessed he would have to be more convincing than that. “Yes?” he repeated.

She nodded. “After we say goodnight to our hosts, we may go home.”

The music began to slow and Rafe found himself loath to release her, but he finally did so, and she made a pretty curtsey before she took his arm and let him lead her away through the crowd and directly toward Lord and Lady Aldridge.

Because after two days of teasing, he was ready to take his passion for Serafina to the next level. And he couldn’t wait even a moment more to do so.

Serafina had felt the heat of Rafe’s passion before, she had sensed that he desired her. But as he dragged her into his lap in the carriage, kissing her with wild abandon, she could tell this was something different.

In the past, even the recent past, such ardor would have frightened her, made her think of things Cyril had done or forced her to do.