The Temptation of the Duke (Regency Romance) Read online

  “Beeston,” he said curtly with a sharp nod of his head, and then gave the man his back.

  Of course, Beeston was a relentless bastard, so that would not be the end of the interaction.

  “That Lady Alicia is a sweet little tart, isn’t she?” the vile man asked, and Evan turned to see that the man ogled Evan’s fiancée on the other side of the room. “You’re a lucky man, Somerset.”

  “As are you,” Evan replied pointedly.

  A low, sinister chuckle came from his brother-in-law. “You worried I might attempt to woo your fiancée?”

  What an imbecile. “Yes,” Evan replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “That’s my entire concern.”

  Apparently, sarcasm was lost on Beeston. Either that or he was choosing to ignore it. Evan studied the man’s profile. His nostril curled slightly beneath his sharply hawked nose. His jaw was set like stone as he regarded Lady Alicia with such intensity, Evan worried the woman might burst into flames.

  “That’s enough, Beeston,” Evan finally said.

  “What?” Beeston broke his gaze with Lady Alicia’s backside and faced Evan. “I might be a married man, but I still had a pulse last I checked.”

  “The last time I checked, I wasn’t so dead that I could let a slight against my sister and my fiancé go unnoticed.”

  “I didn’t remember you being so very dull, Somerset,” Beeston returned, refusing to acknowledge what Evan had just said.

  “Yes, well, hopefully you’ll remember next time so we can avoid another of these intolerable conversations.”

  Evan had had enough. Rude or not, he walked away from Beeston without another word. Of course, the man chuckled low in his throat as Evan departed, clearly finding the situation humorous. Though how one could find humor in that was beyond Evan’s ken. He mentally flogged himself once again for having abandoned his family for so long. For being so selfish and self-centered as to put his own desires before the needs of his family. Mother wasn’t the warmest of women, but he never could have imagined she’d send her daughter to such a horrific fate as eternity with the likes of Beeston.

  Three

  Grace’s vision began to blur slightly as her partner twirled her about the dance floor in a sweeping waltz. Perhaps she shouldn’t have accepted those two glasses of champagne the man had offered, but truthfully, she loved the way she felt when she over imbibed. That effervescent joy that bubbled inside her, as if she were a glass of champagne herself.

  Well, that was a silly thought, wasn’t it? She giggled.

  “Do I amuse you, Miss Clarke?” her partner asked.

  What was his name again? Something that started with an N. Nash? Ness? Never mind, she could get by without using it, couldn’t she?

  “I’m so sorry,” she replied, smiling sweetly at him. “I was just thinking about something my maid said this afternoon.”

  “I’ve always heard jokes were better when shared with others so all may enjoy a chuckle.”

  Mr. N was actually quite an attractive man, with his golden hair that looked like waves upon sand, eyes that made her hungry for chocolate, and an infectious charm that one could only be born with. But Grace had been lying to cover her ridiculous thoughts about being a glass of champagne and now she’d been caught with her stockings about her ankles.

  Despite its figurative connotation, this thought also tickled her, and she struggled to keep her lips in a straight line.

  “Was it that funny, Miss Clarke?” He gave an uncomfortable little laugh. “Please, do not leave me in suspense any longer.”

  “I truly don’t mean to!” Grace tried her best to sound apologetic. “But it’s just not the kind of thing I can share with…well, with a man.”

  Blast, why were her cheeks aflame? There wasn’t even a joke to tell, of the sharing or not sharing kind, so what had her so hot and bothered?

  “Well, then I shall not pressure you, Miss Clarke.” He smiled kindly as he spun them around the corner of the dance floor.

  A cool breeze wafted from the nearby terrace doors, making Grace long for a brief reprieve from the stifling ballroom. But a glance in the opposite direction revealed her sister, standing sentinel at the edge of the dance floor, clearly trying to catch Grace’s eye. Perhaps it was time to go home already. They’d been here for hours, if her sore feet were any indication. Not that she wanted to go home—she would dance ‘till dawn if her sister would allow her.

  When their waltz was over, Mr. N delivered her back to Chloe and Andrew, kissed the air above her hand and then bowed before exiting their presence.

  Chloe turned to her with a curious smile on her lips. “You seemed to be getting along rather nicely with Mr. Nelson,” she said.

  Nelson. Grace repeated it to herself a few times, determined to remember. “He’s a very kind man.”

  “And handsome, I should say,” Chloe added. Andrew cleared his throat beside her, and Chloe swatted him with her fan. “Oh, hush. You know I think you’re the most dashing there is. I only wish for my sister to have the same fortune I have—to be able to stare at a handsome face every day.”

  Andrew winked at Grace over the top of his wife’s head, and said, “I know. I just like to hear you say it.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Insufferable man.”

  “Can we go home now?” Andrew asked, changing the subject.

  “It is getting late.” Chloe looked to Grace, her eyebrows raised. “Unless you have committed to any other gentlemen for a dance?”

  Grace was about to admit that Mr. Nelson was the last on her card when she spotted a bit of commotion by the main ballroom doors. Someone new had just arrived, and a bit of a hush fell over the crowd. Grace stood on tiptoe to see, causing Chloe to whirl around as well.

  “What is it?” Chloe asked.

  “I don’t—” Heat rushed to Grace’s cheeks when she realized she did indeed know what—or rather who—it was coming through the door. Blast it all, she had to get out of there. “No one important, I’m sure. Shall we?”

  Andrew, who stood at least a head taller than Grace and Chloe, seemed to not hear her. “Oh, that’s our neighbor, Somerset.”

  “Somerset?” Chloe turned on him, her eyes wide. “You mean the duchess?”

  Andrew shook his head. “The duke.”

  Chloe gasped. “He’s returned?”

  “Apparently.” Andrew held out an arm for his wife. “Come, let us say hello.”

  Grace gulped down the large knot that had formed in her throat. Good heavens, this was her absolute worst nightmare. As she trailed along after her sister and brother-in-law, she prayed fervently the Duke of Somerset would not recognize her as the awkward girl he’d met that afternoon.

  ~*~

  Evan hadn’t been expecting to attend a ball this evening, but after a few cutting words from his fiancée, here he was, attempting to do penance for his fifteen years abroad. He figured one ball might not be so bad, and if it made his bride-to-be happy, then he could spend a few hours mingling and dancing and, with any luck, drinking.

  The ball was well attended. It was a crush, to be honest. Just getting into the ballroom was quite a feat. People crowded around, some gawked at him as if he were an apparition. Others raised their fans and spoke in hushed tones to their neighbors while eyeing him suspiciously. He’d surely be on the front page of the gossip columns tomorrow, as he’d expected upon his return. Though he very much wished everyone would stop making such a fuss of his extended absence.

  He did his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his belly and the strong urge to run back to his carriage to go home, and instead nodded in greeting to anyone daring to make eye contact with him. Some of them nodded back, and some immediately averted their gazes, as if they hadn’t been staring in the first place.

  His fiancée ate up the attention like a starved puppy. Her cheeks were pink, but not from heat or embarrassment. She was clearly beaming with pride—or was it smugness—that her fiancé had returned to claim his place beside h
er. Lady Alicia might as well have stuck her tongue out at all the attendees, which didn’t sit terribly well with him. He hoped she’d be more gracious going forward.

  “You’re causing quite the stir,” Beeston said from behind them, and then launched into a raucous laugh. He didn’t seem to notice he was the only one who thought he was funny.

  Evan turned to Lady Alicia. “Would you care for a glass of punch?”

  “Champagne,” she corrected with a raised eyebrow.

  Evan gave a slight bow. “Of course.” And then he set off for the refreshments. But he didn’t get very far before a tall, dark-haired gentleman with a lovely redhead on his arm intercepted him. Evan recognized them, but it took a moment before he realized they were his neighbors.

  “Your Grace,” the man said, bowing slightly while his wife dipped a curtsy. “Lord Andrew, at your service.”

  “You live next door to me, do you not?”

  “We do indeed,” Lord Andrew replied. “May I introduce my wife, Lady Andrew, and my sister-in-law, Miss Grace Clarke?”

  The man gestured behind him to the young woman, but she remained hidden, like a cowering kitten.

  Lady Andrew scowled and grabbed her sister by the wrist with a hissed, “Grace!”

  When the young woman came into view, Evan knew immediately why she’d been trying to hide from him. It took every ounce of his will not to burst into laughter. His lips twitched with amusement as her cheeks turned into what looked like two ripe tomatoes.

  Coming to his senses, Evan bowed first over Lady Andrew’s hand and then turned to Miss Clarke—Grace. She wouldn’t look him in the eye, and he couldn’t blame her. How humiliating this must be for her. “Miss Clarke, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  She dipped a curtsy and muttered what sounded like, “Likewise,” before clearing her throat and averting her gaze to the dance floor as if there were something of great interest there.

  “I do hope you’ll join us for tea tomorrow afternoon, Your Grace,” Lady Andrew said, drawing his attention back to the redhead. “And please, extend the invitation to your mother and sister as well.”

  Damn. Bunny always made a fine companion, but Evan wasn’t terribly keen on taking his mother on the visit. Not that he could avoid it now. Surely word would get back ‘round to her at some party or another, and then he’d have Hell to pay.

  “I will indeed,” he said with a slight bow. “Thank you. Now if you will excuse me, my fiancée is awaiting a glass of champagne from me.”

  The trio graciously stepped aside, allowing him to pass. Evan tried to catch Miss Clarke’s eye as he did so, but she still refused to look at him. Silly chit. He didn’t care that she was eavesdropping on her sister’s rather inappropriate party that afternoon. As a matter of fact, he found her rather endearing.

  He stifled a chuckle as he snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing footman, and then turned tail, grateful not to have to battle the crush all the way to the refreshment table. When he returned to where he’d left his fiancée, she was nowhere to be found. Bunny stood alone, not far away, in the shade of a potted plant.

  “Has Beeston abandoned you already?” he asked as he approached.

  His sister sighed and snapped her fan shut. Her red lips pursed together as if she were trying to keep from crying. It made Evan’s insides twist uncomfortably. “He hates dancing, so he always heads straight for the tables so he can lose even more of our money.” She plucked one of the champagne glasses from him and tossed the entire thing back in one large gulp.

  Evan bit his tongue as he took a somewhat daintier sip of his own glass. Beeston proved his unworthiness at every turn. Yet, if Evan said anything against him, Bunny would only find ways to defend the bastard, as was her duty. Better to simply shift the topic, or better still…“Well, in that case—” He grabbed her empty champagne flute and placed it, along with his own, on a side table, then he held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”

  Bunny stared at his hand skeptically. “Shouldn’t your first dance be with your fiancée?”

  He cast about, looking for his betrothed. “She seems to have abandoned me. So we can either be wallflowers together, or we can get a bit of exercise, if you don’t think that will be too taxing in your condition.”

  She hesitated a moment, but finally a smile broke out on her lips, and she placed her hand in his. “Of course it won’t be too taxing.”

  By the time the dance ended, Evan was quite out of breath. It had been an awfully long time since he’d danced—it was a wonder he remembered how. But dancing with his sister had been a great deal of fun.

  When he returned Hannah to the edge of the ballroom, he leveled her with his most concerned of looks. “Bunny?”

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes round and quizzical. “Yes?”

  There were so many questions on the tip of his tongue; he didn’t know where to begin. Are you happy? Are you lonely? May I pummel your husband into the ground?

  “Do you think my beard suits me?”

  His sister blinked several times and her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I-I…don’t know. I think you’re handsome with it, though I’m sure you’d be handsome without it as well.”

  Evan brought his thumb and forefinger up to stroke the hair on his chin. What an inane question to ask. But what was he to do? As much as he wanted those questions answered, he couldn’t bring them up in the middle of a social event. “Yes, well, I’ve had it for quite a long time. I think I might shave it tomorrow.”

  “Well, good,” Hannah said with a half smile. “That’s settled then, isn’t it?”

  They stood in silence for a few moments watching the couples on the dance floor before Bunny grabbed his arm and pointed into the crowd.

  “Do you see that lovely blonde-haired girl dancing with Lord Farnsworth?”

  It took him a moment since he had no idea who Lord Farnsworth was, but he finally spotted the woman his sister referred to. Grace. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yes, I think so.”

  “That’s our neighbor’s sister, Miss Clarke. I’ve only met her once, but she’s quite lovely. Her sister is married to Andrew Wetherby—you remember the Wetherby family, don’t you? His eldest brother is the Marquess of Eastleigh.”

  Evan’s head was spinning. It had been years since he’d been forced to keep up with social titles and the ton. Perhaps he should have been studying Debrett’s while he was abroad. “Yes, I think so,” he repeated, as he dredged up vague memories of his days at Eaton. “But I’ve already met Lord and Lady Andrew and Miss Clarke, actually.”

  Hannah snapped her head sideways to look at him. “When?”

  “Just this evening, on the way to get the champagne. They recognized me somehow and introduced themselves as our neighbors.” He decided to omit the part about meeting Miss Clarke in the garden that afternoon. “As a matter of fact,” Evan continued, “they’ve invited us all to tea tomorrow.”

  “All?”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “Yes, all.”

  “You don’t think we could avoid telling Mother about it, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t risk it.”

  Hannah sighed. “Well, maybe God will smile down upon us and send her some sort of affliction.”

  Evan laughed. “One can only hope.”

  The quadrille came to an end. People meandered off the dance floor or shifted partners, just in time for the next dance to begin.

  “So, is this what you do all night? Cling to the walls at the edge of the dance floor until Beeston is ready to go home?”

  Bunny’s throat worked as she swallowed convulsively. “Not always,” she finally replied. “Sometimes I go to the ladies’ retiring room.”

  It was an attempt at humor, but Evan wasn’t in a terribly jovial mood all of a sudden. He was more in a mood to shove his fist through his brother-in-law’s throat. His fingers twitched at his sides and he opened and clenched his hands over and over.

  This is my fault. I shoul
dn’t have gone away. I should have been there to look out for Bunny…

  The self-flagellation continued, like a never-ending melody in his head.

  “I’m so sorry,” he muttered, silently praying the babe she carried would provide some light in her life.

  He didn’t even realize he’d said it aloud until Bunny turned to him and asked, “Sorry for what?”

  He cleared his throat and turned again to the dance floor. “Oh, nothing, I—”

  “Well, here you are!”

  Evan whirled around to find his fiancée coming up beside him. She truly was a beautiful woman, no doubt about that. Her hair shone copper in the orangey glow of the gaslights. Next to all the young debutantes in pale colors, she looked like a fallen angel. And she certainly attracted a lot of attention, both male and female. Other guests darted quick glances at her, and some of the bolder gentlemen even let their gazes linger. Evan probably should have been bothered by this, but he wasn’t. Only very aware that Lady Alicia was quite the prize, and he was lucky she’d waited so long for him to come to his senses.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I thought you were going to bring me a glass of champagne.”

  “I did indeed,” Evan returned. “But I couldn’t find you, so I gave it to my sister.”

  Lady Alicia smiled pleasantly at Hannah. “Well, that’s all right.”

  “I can get you another.”

  “No, no. I’d much prefer you ask me to dance.”

  Evan held out his arm. “Would you do me the honor, Lady Alicia?”

  She placed her arm on top of his and allowed him to lead her the few paces to the dance floor. After a quick bow and curtsy, they joined hands and Evan swept his betrothed into their first waltz. “I’ve been waiting fifteen years for this dance,” she said after a moment of silence.

  Evan tensed and nearly lost his footing. “Lady Alicia,” he said, once he’d regained his composure. “Might I ask how long I will be forced to endure your reminders of my extended absence?”