Fate Is A Stranger: Regency Romance (3 page)

So he was to be the cat tonight, thought the duke as he saw Violet move away from the back of the room and down to the middle, amidst a group of chattering females. These ladies made room for her among them and for the moment she was as safe from the duke as if he were barred from her by a high fence.

But just for the time being, he thought. Anyone knows that the mouse hasn't a chance against a tomcat. She would struggle a bit making the game more interesting for him, but that she would be his in the end there was absolutely no doubt in Hawkinston's mind.

* * *

Violet sat rigidly as she listened to the opening notes of the music and stared straight ahead. And no one, judging from her hauntingly lovely face, would have guessed that she was assessing the duke's weapons just as much as he was assessing her vulnerabilities.

He must think her easy prey, she thought, for he had moved quickly, without any need for convention. And she knew with a lead weight in her heart that she must fight not only the duke's advances but herself, as well. For the first time since she had said a tearful goodbye to her first love on that long ago day, an awakening of interest in another man had happened in her in her barren heart.

Her attraction to a man who obviously saw her as prey was perplexing, yet there it was, and she must fight not only the duke, but herself as well, if she was to succeed—and she
must
succeed, of that there was no question.

She knew in her heart that the trust her father had placed in her was a treasure she would die before betraying.

She would never become anyone's mistress, neither the duke's, or any other man's.

Lord Kelly had fallen from grace by marrying her mother and acknowledging Violet, and she had never seen the slightest hint of regret in him in the years that followed. He seemed the happiest of men. He had not only acknowledged her publicly and legally as his daughter and given her a home with him, but he had given her his
name
, as well, the most precious gift of all. She would never betray that trust and that gift by becoming what she most hated becoming in this life—
a kept whore
.

Serenity passed over her face like mist. There was nothing to be worried about, after all. Her determination would be the beacon that lighted her way—steadfast before her until the day she died. The duke could not succeed against her determination. The only way he could succeed was by force, and Violet was certain he would never use force against her. She was a good judge of character.

The endless recital, the longest in the duke's memory, finally came to an end and he saw that the small orchestra was beginning to play the opening dance. He headed straight to where Violet was. At the same time a pale and scrawny young man—Sir Ashtin Blakely—had timidly approached her.

The duke was not within earshot but he was almost certain that Violet had agreed to a dance before the young man had asked. He could tell by the surprised pleasure in the young man's eyes and the way that Violet hurriedly wove her arm through his.

Young Ashtin led Violet to the dance floor and the duke would have been increasingly bemused if he had heard Violet encourage the delighted young man into asking her for the following waltz.

CHAPTER 3

The duke viewed these two dances as he stood by the wall, shooing off with a deterring look anyone who approached him.

He was becoming increasingly frustrated. Was the girl going to evade him all night?

And that was precisely what Violet intended as she crossed the ballroom in the arm of the same young man and went to where the young man's friends were. She then managed, before the duke was able to cross the ballroom floor, to assign them all dances, successfully filling up all her time for the evening.

Well, she was allowed the opening volley, thought the duke, smiling, and one must admit there was something plucky and enterprising in the way Violet had evaded him. The duke crossed the ballroom just as a waltz was about to start and approached Violet.

Without ceremony he took her hand and as the first notes of the waltz began he bowed before her, his eyes looking intently into hers.

"Ah, Miss Durbin, I must entreat you to honor me with the supper waltz."

"But I have no dances left to give, your grace," said Violet, "the supper dance is taken."

"Ah, but you do," said the duke, "
now
," he added as he led her to the dance floor among the other couples.

There was not a man young or old in the room who would challenge the duke’s action. Certainly
she
could not, thought Violet, giving in for the moment. And certainly young William Cordeville, realizing his dance with Violet had been usurped, thought better than to make a scene. Instead, melting under Hawkinston's withering gaze, he retreated, with a quick glance at his father, Sir Galloway, who motioned him away with a warning shake of the head.

"You can start by telling me, Miss Durbin," asked the duke, "where you have been hiding all these years."

"Hiding in plain sight," said Violet.

Violet felt her heart thud alarmingly under the silk of her ball gown and wondered if she would ever again be completely composed in the duke's company. Each moment near him made her more susceptible to him and she was silent for the rest of the waltz as she let herself bask in the duke's arm. She had never felt thus in anyone's arms, not even Jay's arms, her first love.

When it was over, the duke directed her to the tables where supper was being served.

Violet glanced at the food in her plate, wondering how she would manage to eat in the duke's presence and keep her composure.

She was glad when the other two couples approached the table and greeted them, placing their plates before them. Lady Sally Waycliffe, accompanied by William Cordeville and smelling of a heavy French perfume, smiled brightly.

Violet saw the duke as he assessed the occupants of the table with his sardonic smile and a certain look, a look that said that the guests were all deficient in some way, that they were the only kind of guests that would attend a function at Lord Kelly’s house.

She was certain of what he was thinking as he gazed around him. The entire guest list was a patchwork such as the occupants of this table. They hung on to the fringes of society, outcasts such as Violet’s family, as well as sons and daughters of gamblers and mushrooms.

Once the dinner was over, the duke led Violet to the dance floor. Her arm, lying lightly along his, felt such radiating little sparks that she almost snatched it away, so upset she was by the contact. She felt dizzy and warmer than the weather called for and wondered what in heaven's name was happening to her.

Up until now, Violet had kept at a safe distance from society men. Now this man was rushing headlong into the vital space around her that she had guarded so carefully.

How to convince the duke that she would
never
be his mistress, that death was a more welcome thought to her? Somehow, if he attempted to get too close, she would say it straight out. Perhaps that would deter him. Or would it? How well Violet knew that it would only be more of a challenge.

Violet felt light-headed as she danced in the arms of her enemy, for she now considered the Duke of Hawkinston as much an enemy as Alex Shackel had been. One could not make a distinction between the opposite characters of the two men, one dead and the other very much alive and gazing into her eyes with a conviction that frightened her.

What made him so certain she would give in?

"I shall come right out with what I wish, Miss Durbin," said the duke as they glided to the waltz. "I find that I have become quite smitten with you and desire your company."

Violet gasped. "My company? In what way, your grace?" She felt as if a hot iron had been placed across her chest, leaving her without breath.

Again
,
Violet said to herself. She had thought the duke would be more subtle when he approached her but apparently he did not consider her gentle enough for the niceties. And his decision to approach her with this was so quick, too. All in the course of one night.

"Forgive me if I am explicit, ma'am, but since I am not speaking to a virgin, I hope my frankness will be forgiven."

"I hear a duke is forgiven
everything
,"
answered Violet, feeling the color steal up her neck.

"I hope it is not for that reason alone I am forgiven, but that my frankness is interpreted as sincerity."

"I hardly know you, your grace. Please forgive me if I am unable to distinguish frankness from sincerity."

"Of course," said the duke, "but we are drifting from the subject. Perhaps we can resume this chat in the terrace, where there is more privacy?"

"Whatever you desire to convey to me, your grace, will have to be done here, among a crowd of people—
or not at all
."

Must she always be rejecting propositions such as this one? She had felt a soaring unfamiliar feeling when she first met the duke and had hoped that in spite of the assessing look he had seen in his eyes as he gazed at her, that she was mistaken and he would not be as the others.

How naïve she had been in her hopes. He was no different.

"I see," he said. "Very well, Miss Durbin, as I said before, I am quite attracted to you and desire your company in a more intimate relationship. And to be more explicit, as my mistress."

"Of course," he added quickly, "I don't expect you to answer right away, if you feel you need time to consider it."

"On the contrary, your grace," answered Violet, as she aptly suppressed the tremor in her voice, "I can give you my reply right now, in fact."

"Before you answer," said the duke, "do consider that the society doors that are shut to you now would be instantly opened to you, as my companion."

"I do consider that, your grace. I consider these doors that you mention to be opened wide for the
mistress
of the Duke of Hawkinston.

I have been offered many enticements, your grace, in the hope of luring me to become this or that man's mistress—jewels, clothes, furniture—but this is the first time I have been lured by the opening of doors."

"Don’t be too hasty with your answer, madam," said the duke. "Perhaps I have not expressed myself with the eloquence needed on an occasion such as this. I hope my clumsy attempt will not be held against me. I do want to emphasize the enormous advantages you would enjoy: access to a lavish apartment that would be for your very own use, extended visits to my several estates, balls at which you would reign as queen—"

"Perhaps I have not expressed
my
response clear enough, your grace," interrupted Violet with a frown. "Let me make it clear then, that I have no interest in the position you are offering me."

"Position? I did not say it was a 'position.'"

"Really? Forgive me then for my assumption, for it sounded very much as though I were being interviewed for the 'position' of your mistress.”

"You have a way with words, Miss Durbin, that in no way detracts from your personality; on the contrary, it enhances it and proves to be a part of the charm you have over men, but I plead you do not use it in this occasion in particular, for it casts a cynical tone to our discussion. I merely asked you to become my mistress. I do not recall saying it is in any way a 'position' for which you are applying."

The answer is
no
, your grace."

"Miss, Durbin," said the duke anxiously, "take care you are not hasty with your answer, for you may be passing up an opportunity that at the present moment you are unable to gage entirely. Perhaps at home, and having given it careful thought, you will come to realize the immense social and monetary advantages of it."

"The answer is still no," Violet said firmly.

"You can never obtain a better offer, Miss Durbin," said the duke. "Surely you don't think a gentleman will offer you marriage, do you?"

"I fail to see why my marriage prospects or my lack of them should be any concern of yours. I have had no contact with you before this night. Who granted you the right, sir, to employ such familiarity in your tone when you address me?"

The duke, who had dealt with coy mistresses before and who considered Violet's words to be only small obstructions placed there by artifice to get the best offer from him before acceding was undaunted.

"As you must realize you will never get an offer of marriage from a gentleman, what then is your reason for refusing my offer, Miss Durbin?"

"I need a reason to reject the Duke of Hawkinston's offer to become his mistress?"

"Surely there must be one. There is always a reason for every human action."

"Very well, then, your grace, I shall provide you with a reason. The reason is that you expected me to say yes."

"And because you believe I expected you to say yes you are saying no—that doesn't make sense."

"It makes sense to me."

"So it's not because of virtue, it is merely because I expected you to say yes."

"I am surprised at your words, your grace; I thought that virtue held no consideration in your proposition to me, nor did your words convey the idea that you consider me to have any."

Violet felt sadness envelop her. This was a conversation he could only have with Violet and others of her "kind." He would never have approached a gently-bred girl with such a proposal.

The thought gave her a sudden pain in the pit of her stomach. No matter how much she tried to erase the past, pretend it hadn't happened, it was always there, lurking. It lurked in the eyes of every man who leered at her and thought her of easy virtue; no matter that she was irreproachable in manner and deed and had been for the last six years. And the well-publicized item that she was Lord Kelly’s illegitimate daughter—or by-blow as such children were referred to, only added to the disdain.

Those few weeks as the forced mistress of Alex Shackel would brand her for life
. She would always be a strumpet in the eyes of society.

There was nothing she could do to escape it. And it hurt that the duke had leered at her in just the same manner as the rest. There had not been any difference.

From the first moment she had set eyes on him she had become very attracted to him. Never had any man given her such a jolt on a first meeting. She had felt an exhilarating liberating feeling which she had never felt before. She doubted that she would ever feel the same about any other man on the first meeting. Even now, she dared not look too closely into his eyes for there was for her an attraction that was not easy to define and one that called out to her in the deepest part of her being. Even so, she had not dreamed at that moment that a duke, next in line from a prince, would ever glance her way. He wished he had not.

He was made of clay just as the rest of them.

"You have surprised me with your answer," the duke added, "in that you declined my offer merely because you believe I expected you to say yes."

Violet felt a sudden sharp headache coming on. "I cannot believe that the Duke of Hawkinston can be surprised by anything anymore," she said wearily.

The dance now held no joy for her. She felt the burden of a past that had been forced on her like a cell with a lock she could never remove.

She viewed herself suddenly as the duke viewed her. So different from how she saw herself and the feeling brought her an immense sadness.

"I do not comprehend your meaning, Miss Durbin," the duke said, insisting on his same tract. "Is it perhaps you believe I am jaded?"

"Those are your words, your grace, not mine," she said, "You are a man of the world and used to making such propositions. That you are surprised by little would be the obvious conclusion, for you expect people to act within their station. Well, let me tell you one thing, your grace. I am not to be classified, by you or anyone else.

“My explanation that I said no merely because you expected yes is merely a light covering to the obvious reason: my answer to your proposal will never be in accordance to what you have decided my 'class' would answer, but uniquely mine."

She looked deep into the duke's eyes as he stared at her.

"Good night, your grace."