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"That bad?" a male voice said next to
him.

"Rawlings?" Benedict could hardly believe his
eyes. The once-rakish Lord Rawlings was said to be in the country
with his wife. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Oh, a favor. It seems one of our mutual
friends is to be in Town, and my wife hadn't the heart to say no to
showing some interest in the girl and showing her about at the
parties."

"Ah." Benedict gave a quick smile. "Thus, she
is floating around the social circles, and you're next to the
whiskey?"

"Did I mention that the girl is naught but
sixteen? And has the distinct pitch of a lap dog getting hit by a
carriage?"

Benedict let out a hearty laugh. "Then
cheers, old friend."

"Old friend?" The Duke of Tempest approached
with a cheery smile on his face. "Just what are we toasting to, and
who's trying to steal my friends away?"

Benedict gave a short bow. "Benedict Devlyn,
Duke of Banbury."

Tempest laughed, his eyes twinkling. "That
sounds about right. What brings you into Town, Devil Duke? I
haven't seen you about this Season."

"He avoids it," another male voice cut
in.

Truly it was as if the entire male sex could
sense that Benedict needed support and were now coming to his aid
in throngs.

"Lord Renwick, a pleasure," Benedict
said.

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew who
my wife was talking to at this very moment."

"Please do not finish telling me that story
if it has anything to do with my—"

"Lovely aunt?" Renwick finished. "Perhaps I
overdid it when I said 'lovely'. I'm sure we can conjure up a few
more words to adequately describe the—"

"Chit?" Tempest offered.

"Meddlesome bag?" Rawlings input was quite
useful.

"Incorrigible, quick-witted, opinionated
piece of…" Benedict stopped himself when his eyes set on the vision
in front of him.

A beautiful woman had walked into the room.
Her profile was perfect, as if an artist had conjured her from
heaven. Her lips, though he could only see the sides, were plump
and a pale pink. Golden hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders,
falling out of her messily placed bun. A silver dress wrapped
around her perfect form as if it was sewn onto her.

As if his mind had communicated with hers,
she turned and looked at him. His stomach dropped as did his
whiskey. He cursed in every language he knew, not caring that the
men around him probably thought he'd caught some sort of madness
from his aunt. But he knew, even as she walked toward him, and his
stomach clenched, and his head pounded like the devil… This was the
very same "girl," who had nearly stolen his life three times. The
only question hanging in the air between them was whether or not
he'd leave this party dead or alive…

A Matter of Honor

Katherine glanced at
the
Devil Duke. His face was a combination of smooth planes
and perfect form. A muscle twitched in his jaw when he set his eyes
on her, and for a minute they darkened, causing her to feel like a
nervous girl still in pigtails. Then his once-smoldering face
turned to something much more predatory. Nostrils flared, fingers
clenched at his sides, and then he raised his hand to touch the
back of his head as if it ached.

Drawing a steadying breath, she straightened
her shoulders and made her way toward the man. An apology was
surely in order after three years. After all, it hadn't been her
fault that he had suffered so much trauma at her hands, he just
seemed to have the worst timing and balance out of any man she
knew! The man was a walking scandal, sin incarnate. She only hoped
she wouldn't be ruined by merely associating with him, for his
reputation with debutantes was clearly marked with scandal. Lucky
for her, she wasn't some debutante, but practically on the shelf,
an old woman. Surely he wouldn't find her the least bit attractive,
and if he did? Well, if he did, she would simply have to ignore his
virility and handsome face. Perhaps if she closed her eyes she
could forget his handsomeness. She tried it.

Of course it did nothing but make her more
curious if her mind had conjured up the same image she had just
gazed upon.

She stole a cautious peek. It hadn't.

He was far more attractive than a man of his
reputation should be. She straightened her shoulders and shook the
foreboding thoughts from her head.

Regardless of his reputation, she needed to
at least acknowledge that all those silly incidents were her fault
and her fault alone. Especially if she was to catch the eye of the
duke's cousin, whom she knew would be in attendance this very
night.

The Dowager Duchess of Durbin had said as
much in her letter. And Katherine was thrilled that she would
finally get her chance with the Scottish duke. The only man
standing in her way was the Devil Duke himself, and she wasn't
about to let the obviously negative man get in the way of her happy
future.

She swallowed and gave a quick curtsy, slowly
raised her eyes toward him, and waited. It was most improper for
her to even use his last name instead of his title, but to her, the
name fit. His last name of Devlyn described him quite perfectly for
he was most assuredly descended from the devil himself. Dark hair,
dark eyes, wide unforgiving lips, and a sneer fit for a true
aristocrat. His eyebrows furrowed as a mocking smile danced across
his face.

"Lady Katherine, it has been too long." If
she was a betting woman, which she most assuredly was not, she
would have half expected him to continue in that same sentiment,
adding that it had not been long enough. Banbury bent over her hand
and bestowed a kiss upon it.

Quickly, she tugged it away and rubbed the
spot where his lips had touched. Perhaps she was catching a chill?
That was why her hand was still shaking when she placed it back at
her side. Or maybe she really was frightened of the man.

"Yes, yes it has." Katherine sighed. "I was
wondering, if it would not be too bold to ask, your grace, might we
take a turn about the room?"

He grimaced. Lovely. Always nice to know a
gentleman enjoyed her company. "I believe that would be
acceptable." He turned slightly to the left and nodded to the men
behind them. Each one of them was a beautiful male specimen, and
oddly, looked slightly foxed. She shrugged and took his arm when he
offered.

Heavens, her heart was beating out of her
chest. Apologies did not come easily to Katherine, and an apology
to such a menacing man, even if he did deserve it, was on the
bottom of her list.

Banbury paused, allowing a couple to walk by
in front of them, and when he did, his other hand reached out and
lightly touched her arm as a warning to stop. It should not have
meant anything; in fact, he was probably just worried she would
somehow cause him to trip and hit his head for the fourth time.
Instead, a shiver ran up and down the length of her body, and her
heart seemed to take flight as if she were ready to faint.

Truly, the man was so fearsome even her heart
was growing weary. They continued toward the back of the room where
less people crowded around, and finally she opened her mouth to
speak.

"I have something that needs to be said."

"Then say it." His voice was smooth and held
no anger, merely impatience.

"I must apologize for any bodily or mental
harm I may have caused you in the past. Please accept my sincerest
regrets that I have been the cause of so much pain."

Banbury's lips moved into what could possibly
be a smile and he brought his hand up to the back of his head. Did
he have a headache?

"Do you have any further plans to cause me
physical harm, my lady?"

"Not that I am aware of, no."

"Well, just in case, I'll be sure to give you
a wide berth when we dance. Now, shall we?" He held out his gloved
hand and winked.

Warmth pooled in her belly as she took his
hand and joined him in a dance. Truthfully that could not have gone
any better! Well, other than the fact that there was a resounding
gasp when she allowed him to take her onto the dance floor.

But she paid the onlookers no heed. Now all
she needed to do was inquire about his cousin. He turned her around
and faced her again.

"Do you often travel to your cousin's estate
in Scotland?" she asked.

Banbury narrowed his eyes. "I cannot say that
I do. I much prefer my estate near Bath. Though I'm sure my cousin
wouldn't be against a familial visit come this spring."

Lost in thought, she merely nodded. Heavens,
she hadn't remembered him being so boring or dry. Thankfully she
wasn't going to have to be leg-shackled to the man for the rest of
her life. Suddenly, she felt quite sorry for the poor miserable
woman who would have to share his bed every night. Granted, he was
a beautiful male specimen to gaze upon, but looks could only take
one so far if he had no sense of humor to speak of and didn't know
how to smile if his life depended on it.

As the song ended, her foot caught and
twisted in the bottom of her skirt, sending her reeling into the
duke's arms, but she was in so much pain and so mortified, she
could only whimper as he helped her off the dance floor and out
into the cool night air of the balcony.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked gently,
kneeling down at her foot.

Unfortunately she lost her balance and kicked
her injured foot into the air trying to regain it, landing a very
hard blow to the duke's head.

He let out a curse and fell backward onto the
ground with a thud.

"Oh my! Heavens, are you all right?"
Momentarily forgetting about her injury, Katherine tried to walk
toward the duke on her bad ankle but lost her footing, landing on
top of him with her skirts up past her knees. The only reason she
knew this was because cold air bit at her calves.

"Get off!" Banbury bellowed.

"I'm trying!" she argued, pushing away from
him, but it was nearly impossible to skitter away when his arms
were flailing about.

And then all pandemonium broke loose. A gasp
was heard from the doorway followed by a cry, and then
applause.

The Dowager Duchess of Durbin was sniffing
and holding a handkerchief to her eye as if she was shedding tears
over their obviously compromising situation. And the three men she
had seen earlier drinking with Banbury were now grinning ear to
ear, all of them clapping their hands as if they had just witnessed
a comedy of errors.

"This isn't what it looks like!" she wailed,
peeling herself from the duke's body and accidently kneeing him in
the shin as she made her way back to her feet.

The duke didn't speak, nor did he yell.
Instead, he closed his eyes and began mumbling things under his
breath.

"Is he praying?" the dowager asked.

A blond-headed fellow piped up. "Most likely
to be struck by lightning."

"Sounds familiar," a man she now recognized
as Lord Rawlings with dark features and crystal blue eyes said,
looking quite amused. She hadn't seen him in years, but he still
held that rakish air.

She hadn't a clue as to the identity of the
other men, mainly because she had been in the country for so long.
Assuming they were friends, she felt even more embarrassed that
they had all just witnessed such a catastrophic event.

"So," a tall gentleman who hadn't spoken yet
said, "When is the wedding to take place?"

Rawlings laughed. "I think he's still praying
God will strike him where he lies. Doesn't work that way, fellow.
Believe me, I've tried. Now, Renwick, Tempest, let us leave the
Devil to his evil doings and have a drink on his behalf. It seems
he'll need it."

Katherine wasn't so sheltered that she didn't
now understand who the men where. Lord Renwick? The Duke of
Tempest? And Lord Rawlings? Two of the most notorious rakes of the
ton
and the Angel Duke himself.

Well, it seemed there was no escaping
matrimony. But by George, she was going to try.

Down for the Count

Perhaps he could
merely
pretend to have had an apoplexy. How long, he
wondered, could a person hold his breath before he did permanent
damage to his body? Perhaps if he passed out, he could make up a
story about how the woman, who he would now refer to as Eve,
tricked him, tripped him, and clobbered him over the head.

He kept his eyes closed just in case his
ridiculous plan would work.

It didn't.

Another throat cleared. He stopped his
prayers and opened one eye, then two. His aunt's icy blue stare
seemed to penetrate his body with such irritation that his head
began to hurt again, or was the throbbing merely a happy
coincidence with getting hit by Lady Katherine? Saints alive, she
was going to be the death of him.

"Look what you've done." Aunt Agatha shook
her head and sniffled. Well, at least she was over her imaginary
head cold; now it seemed she had nothing but tears and outrage.

"I did nothing wrong, I merely fell after
being struck by a blunt object. You cannot fault me in the
matter!"

"You compromised that woman! What the devil
is wrong with you? Have I not raised you to at least woo a woman
before you lift her skirts? Heavens, we are in public!"

"I was accosted!" he yelled.

"You were seducing her!"

"I was unconscious!" He blinked his eyes and
cursed. Pain was now throbbing at his temples. Truly, if God were
to call him home, he wouldn't fault Him one bit. He'd merely lift
his arms heavenward and thank the Lord for taking him. Then again
his thanks would be twofold, for he would be grateful to even be
near the pearly gates, let alone given free entry.

Aunt Agatha sighed. "Either way, it was bad
form, Benedict. Truly bad form. I shall announce your impending
marriage at once. Now, run along and have yourself some brandy. You
look awful. Hmph."