What the Duke Desires (7 page)

“You seem troubled,” Gabby said, shooting a side glance toward her aunt Isabel. The older woman was standing just beside them, but she appeared completely oblivious to their conversation.

“Oh no, of course not,” Lillian hastened to say. “I was actually musing on how lucky it is that Simon seems to have lost interest in me entirely. He has not so much as looked at me in over an hour.”

Her friend’s eyebrow arched. “I see.”

Lillian’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like her friend’s tone and was about to say so when the dowager duchess approached from across the room and came to stop at their group.

“Good evening,” Lady Billingham said, her voice as chilly as the brief glance she spared their group. “I trust you are all enjoying yourselves tonight.”

Gabby nodded. “Oh yes, Your Grace. It is a lovely ball.”

“Hmmm.” Dismissing Gabby with a turn of her head, the duchess focused her attention on Lillian.

Normally she wasn’t affected by the perusal of others. She had grown accustomed to the stares and shakes of the head that had followed her since her mother’s death.

But Lady Billingham was a different beast entirely. When she looked at Lillian, a desire to turn away rose up in her. She wanted to run. Or at least hide from the dismissive glance of a woman who clearly had nothing for her but utter disdain.

“I would like a moment of your time, Miss Mayhew.”

Lady Billingham’s tone could be read as nothing but an order, and since Lillian had no good reason to refuse, she found herself nodding.

“Of course, my lady.”

The duchess motioned her to follow and Lillian did, moving into a quiet corner of the room where no one stood. When the lady turned on Lillian slowly, she pierced her with another of those cold stares.

“Miss Mayhew, surely you understand that the only reason you were invited here is that Lord Watsenvale asked for that boon himself.”

Lillian flinched. Her Ladyship was as direct as her son, although it did give her a small satisfaction that the duchess had no idea of Gabby’s forgery of the letter from her father. It seemed her friend had been right to do so.

“Well, I thank you for including me, and I thank the earl for asking the favor,” Lillian replied, drawing calming breaths before and after she spoke. If she behaved as if she was afraid, she had no doubt a woman like Lady Billingham would strike like a cobra.

A sniff was the other woman’s reply. “Yes, well, I hope you don’t take my charity for any other kind of acceptance. You are obviously well-aware that the new duke is looking for a bride, and that this gathering is a way to introduce him to
suitable
young ladies.”

Lillian’s heart throbbed. “Of which I am not.”

“I see we understand each other.” The duchess smiled, but it was very thin. “Miss Mayhew, I certainly understand your desire to elevate yourself. One could even admire your gall at making the attempt to snare a duke, if only it weren’t such an appalling endeavor.”

Lillian gasped, her hands coming up to clench in front of her chest. Her cheeks burned and her every limb trembled. “My lady, I assure you I am in no way trying to snare a duke.”

“Are you not?” The duchess looked at her up and down. “If that is true, then you may forget what I have said. However, since it appears you are lying, I will reiterate. Simon
shall
marry someone appropriate, Miss Mayhew. I hope you won’t forget yourself simply because you’ve shared some time with him. Or allow his charm to make you think he could truly overlook your more…
distasteful
qualities.”

As Lillian stared, silenced by humiliation and anger, the duchess stepped back. “Now if you will excuse me, I have many
important
guests to attend to. Good evening.”

Apparently she did not expect an answer, for she stalked away. Lillian was just as happy, for she could not have formulated a response if her life depended upon it.

It wasn’t as if the woman had said anything that Lillian hadn’t heard before. Her standing in Society had never been an exalted one. Her father had no title and a very small amount of money, but he did have a good family bloodline, so they had been included in many invitations. During her first few Seasons, Lillian had even garnered some interest from men who did not need to marry for fortune. She had held out hope she might marry a man she liked and could love.

Those dreams had died five years ago when her mother took her own life. As hard as the family tried to cover up that fact, the truth had been impossible to keep hidden. Rumor and fact had leaked out, whispered in drawing rooms and back halls by servant and master alike.

Since then Lillian had seen Society change toward their family. They had still been invited, of course, but watched. Murmured about. The men who had once shown her interest slowly moved away.

Eventually Lillian had given up the hope of marrying someone within that circle. And she had told herself their words didn’t hurt.

And yet tonight, standing in the corner of a crowded ballroom, Lady Billingham had managed to ferret out every wound Lillian had ever had, and she felt all the pain keenly, as if those past pains had just happened all over again.

What right did the woman have to tell Lillian that she wasn’t worthy? Her own husband had been a monster masquerading as a paragon of virtue.

Lillian lifted her chin. When the truth came out about the late duke, then Lady Billingham would regret her words. She would feel their sting fall back on her and her family. For a moment, Lillian reveled in that thought, but then she sighed.

When the moment came, she knew it wouldn’t erase this feeling of anger and sadness and humiliation. It wouldn’t change what had happened to her mother, or bring her back to Lillian and Jack. But at least she could feel as though she had fulfilled her father’s final wish. At least she would know that her mother’s attacker would no longer be seen as a man to be honored and revered.

Suddenly the room felt too small, the people too loud, the dancing too wild. She was trapped by it all, including her own promises of vengeance, unable to escape this duty she had been forced to undertake by her father and her brother’s irresponsibility.

She looked around. Across the room, the terrace doors all but beckoned. It was a bit chilly in the late spring air, and that would limit the people who would go out to escape the ballroom. Outside she could be alone.

And that was what she wanted. To be alone. And to forget the duchess and Simon. At least for a little while.

He hadn’t been able to talk to her all night. That had been orchestrated by Rhys and his mother, no doubt, for they were forever throwing people and responsibilities into his path so that he wouldn’t seek out the only young woman whom he had any interest in at present.

But now, watching her practically run from the ballroom, he refused to be deterred any longer. He excused himself from the conversation he had been having and strode across the room. He saw Rhys moving to intervene once more, and pivoted to face his friend. The other man stopped and they locked gazes from halfway across the room.

Slowly, Simon shook his head. Rhys seemed to fight an internal war for a few charged moments, but finally he inclined his chin in surrender and returned to his fiancée. Simon pushed onto the terrace and snapped the doors shut behind him.

He didn’t see Lillian. He had somehow expected her to be standing just outside the door, leaning on the gating that overlooked the garden where they had spoken earlier. But she wasn’t there. Instead, the area was still and empty. The only sound was the occasional rustle of the leaves as a cool wind stirred them.

His brow wrinkled as he looked around through the darkness. “Miss Mayhew?”

There was no reply so he stepped farther into the shadows.

“Lillian?”

This time there was a response, but it wasn’t an answer. Instead he heard a quiet sound coming from the side of the house, where a few chairs and a small table had been placed in anticipation of breakfasts and teas on the terrace when summer arrived. There were no lights from the ballroom on that side of the house, so no one would go there unless she wished to hide.

Which only increased Simon’s concern about Lillian’s well-being.

He made his way around the house and came to a stop as his eyes adjusted to the dark that was illuminated only by moonlight. Lillian sat on one of the cold metal chairs, her head in her hands.

To his utter surprise and dismay, her shoulders shook gently as she softly cried. He hesitated. She had obviously come outside to be alone with her distress, yet he couldn’t leave her. Not like this.

He moved forward and placed a hand of comfort on her shoulder. She jumped at the contact and flew from the chair as she turned around. When she saw it was he who had intruded upon her, her face crumpled even further.

“Lillian,” he whispered, feeling impotent and stupid in the face of her pain. But his instinct soon took over and he opened his arms to fold her into his embrace.

To his surprise, she allowed the intimacy of his comfort. Though she made no attempt to put her own arms around him in return, she settled her head against his shoulder and did not fight to pull from his arms. They stood that way for a few moments before her crying subsided and she let out a great shiver.

Only then did she step from his grasp and turn her face away.

“My most sincere apologies, Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “You must think me very foolish.”

He shook his head as he dug in his pocket for a clean handkerchief. He held it out to her and she took it with a wordless smile of thanks.

As she wiped her eyes, he said, “I don’t think you foolish in the least. Obviously something or someone troubled you tonight. You are human, you deserve your feelings.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Still, one does not break down at a ball. It’s just not done. And it only proves everyone right.”

He wrinkled his brow.
“Everyone?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, I should go inside.”

She moved to leave, but he caught her elbow and held her steady. Looking down into her upturned face, he felt a strange and powerful swell of emotions move through him. Desire, yes. A lust more powerful than he had felt in a goodly long time.

But there was more there. Somewhere deep within him, there was a protectiveness that stirred. A desire to keep this woman safe from harm and free from the whispers that obviously hurt her, even if she was normally able to pretend otherwise.

“I saw you with my mother tonight,” he said softly.

She turned her face, and Simon stifled a sigh. Apparently
everyone
included his mother.

“I can only imagine what she said to you,” he said softly. “That her words caused you pain angers me more than I can express. Please know that she does not speak for me. In anything.”

That statement, spoken more bitterly than he had intended, seemed to surprise Lillian, for she glanced back up at him sharply. Their gazes held for what seemed like a lifetime.

“She only said what a dozen others have repeated before,” she finally answered, extracting her arm from his grip, though she did not step away. “And probably even more whisper the same condemnations behind my back. I should be accustomed to it by now.”

He shook his head. “You should
never
grow accustomed to such flagrant disregard for your feelings. You should never accept it as a tolerable way of being treated. It does not matter the circumstances,
no one
deserves that.”

She blinked up at him, her face reflecting surprise at both his words and the ardor with which he spoke them. He didn’t blame her. Most men of his stature did not believe such things, but he did. He had fought for legislation to protect the poor and their children. He intended to fight for more. No one deserved to be treated as less than human simply because of the circumstances of his birth or life.

Especially the fetching creature standing before him, almost in his arms. This strange woman who pulled him in and pushed him away with equal strength. Whose lips were so full that he couldn’t look away, and eyes were such an ever-changing hazel that he wanted to buy her gowns to match every color they reflected.

He wanted her. He just wanted to touch her. Feel her body against his. Feel it beneath his.

Somehow his hands moved, almost of their own accord. He clasped her shoulders and drew her forward. She didn’t resist, only made a tiny gasp as her body molded against the hard planes of his. Her bottom lip trembled as he cupped her chin and tilted her face up, angling for the perfect kiss.

He couldn’t have denied himself that kiss if his life depended on it. He lowered his mouth and brushed his lips to hers with every intention of pulling away after that chaste moment.

Instead, her arms came around his waist and held there and she lifted up on her tiptoes, as if the space between them was too great. She returned the pressure of his lips, and when she shivered, a sigh parted her lips just a fraction. Feeling the heat of her breath on his mouth was too much for any man to resist.

He pulled her closer and tasted her flesh with just the tip of his tongue, probing her parted lips until she opened fully to him and allowed him entry.

Lillian couldn’t have said how this moment, this kiss, happened, but now she was here and Simon was holding her so close that their breath was merging as one. In this space, she couldn’t heed the fading voice inside her, telling her to pull away. She couldn’t listen to the rational parts of her that were reminding her why she was here. She couldn’t even comprehend that tiny bit of her that was saying Simon Crathorne was seducing her just as he had likely seduced a hundred women before.

No, all those things were blocked out by the powerful pounding of her heart as she surrendered to a desire so sudden and powerful that she felt she would do almost anything to make this moment last a little longer.

His tongue drove within her mouth with purpose now and rising desire. He tasted every inch of her, coaxing her to tangle her tongue with his. He tasted of mint and a little hint of whiskey. But deeper than that, he tasted of desire and far more wicked pleasures to come.

Nothing had prepared her for this strange tingling sensation that seemed to originate in all the most unmentionable places and then spiral out to heat her entire body. She’d never wanted to rub herself against a man like some kind of cat in heat. Until now.

And it was that realization that finally forced her to step away from Simon, yanking herself from his embrace with enough force that she stumbled back against the terrace railing. They stood there in the cool night, staring at each other through the moonlight. Simon was short of breath, his mouth swollen and fists clenched at his sides like he was trying to regain control.

And Lillian could well imagine she looked much the same. Mouth pink and hot from kisses, eyes glazed and wild with confusion and desire and self-loathing.

She needed to say something. Or slap him. Or apologize. Something.
Anything
.

But in the end, all she did was gather up the hem of her skirt and bolt back inside. All she could do was run.