The Dastardly Duke (9 page)

“The Scripture teaches us that God will punish the wicked for their iniquity,” Lady Huffington continued, her face a portrait of superior scorn.

“And the proud for their arrogance,” Hannah added softly.

With a gasp, the countess put her hand to her breast, looking as if she might faint from shock. Shame filled Hannah. Her wretched temper had gotten the better of her again. She had returned insult for insult, when she knew she ought to have been more humble, more ... ladylike.

Hannah saw the duke rise, and it was all she could do to avoid cringing as she imagined his rage.

But as he approached, his attention was averted. Sir Charles had also risen and was speaking. Hannah tried to catch the baronet’s words.

“... to take my leave, but perhaps the ladies would care to take a turn with me in the garden first.” Sir Charles addressed them all, but it was Lady Lucille whose gaze he held.

The duke’s sister smiled. “That would be lovely.” She regarded Hannah, and her eyes held nothing but friendliness. “Miss Gregory, would you care to come?”

“With pleasure.” Hannah fairly jumped from her chair in her haste to escape the confines of the parlor.

“Lady Huffington?” Sir Charles queried politely, but the countess waved them weakly away and seized the fresh glass of sherry Higgins brought her.

Lady Lucille took Sir Charles’s arm. Gallantly he offered the other to Hannah. As she was about to take it, however, the duke deftly substituted his own. They walked through the door that led to the garden, but when Hannah would have followed Lady Lucille and Sir Charles down a serpentine path, he drew her aside.

“Must you act as if you have the manners of a street wench?” He looked furious.

“Your aunt...” Hannah protested lamely.

“Was insufferable. But a young lady of gentle breeding would not have traded insults with an old biddy beyond hope of reform.”

“I thought I was quite restrained.”

“Indeed.” His mouth twisted curiously. “I suppose in other circumstances, you would have had her at fisticuffs.”

Hannah pressed her lips together, knowing that the duke was right. She had been unforgivably rude to Lady Huffington and certainly owed the countess an apology. But part of her rebelled.

“What would you have had me do? Sit there and suffer her insults as if I did not understand them? I am not stupid, and I refuse to act as if I am.”

Within the ste
rn
depths of his black gaze, something softened. “You are rather touchy on the subject of your deafness, are you not?”

Hannah lifted her chin defiantly. “With all due respect, Your Grace, you have the understanding of a turnip. You cannot know what it is like to be the only one in a room unable to hear.”

“A turnip,” he repeated, frowning.

“I am sorry ... I did not mean ...” Hannah’s voice trailed off as those enigmatic eyes held hers.

“I do not know what it is like to be deaf,” he said, studying her. “But I do know that if you show your enemy your weak spot, he will make the most of it.”

Suddenly she felt deflated, like a balloon whose flight was halted by an artfully thrown pellet. “I have behaved disgracefully, have I not?” She sighed. “I do not know what to say.”

“Why do you not simply apologize?” His gaze held a mixture of pique and amusement.

“I am sorry.” She stared at the ground, feeling miserable.

He touched her chin and brought it up so that she had to look at him. “I have never seen anyone stand up to my aunt in such a fashion.”

“I said I was sorry,” Hannah said unhappily, pulling away. “If you are expecting me to grovel...”

“No.” He caught her arm, preventing her flight. “I am not expecting that.”

“Then what do you want?” she cried in frustration, eyeing the firm hand that held her captive. “I have acknowledged my appalling behavior. I promise to apologize to your aunt. What is the point of keeping me here, making me feel like a chastised child?”

“Is that how I make you feel? Like a child?”

Looking into that black gaze, Hannah felt a confusion more womanly than childlike. Almost, she felt desired, though she had never experienced desire before. To be sure, she had in the past been the object of lechery, of lust that did not recognize the person she was inside. But she had never been desired in the way that she felt now, looking into the Duke of Claridge’s dark eyes and recalling that moment he brought the waltz to a close and their
li
ps together in that magnificent kiss.

Would he have kissed her if he had not desired her? She knew part of him wished her at Jericho. But perhaps another part of him held her in some regard. Was it possible?

Hannah shook her head. Who was she to think that this lofty peer held any regard for her—especially since he believed the worse about her?

“You have not answered my question.”

“Very well, Your Grace,” Hannah replied wearily. “You do not make me feel like a child. You make me feel like a complete and utter idiot.”

She turned and walked toward the house. She could feel the duke’s gaze boring into her back, watching with amused contempt as she realized she had absolutely no idea how to find her way around his home. Fortunately, she was spared the humiliation of returning to him to ask for directions by the sudden appearance of Lady Huffington’s majordomo.

With all the haughtiness of a duchess, Hannah acknowledged his presence with a slight inclination of her head. “I wish to go to my room now, Higgins. Please have someone direct me.”

Higgins looked taken aback, but the command in Hannah’s voice evidently produced an instinctive reaction. “Yes, miss. Right away.”

Barely stifling a nervous giggle, Hannah followed him into the house.

Out of the
corner
of her eye, Hannah caught a movement. The door of her bedchamber opened. Hesitantly, Lady Lucille peered in. “I am sorry to intrude. I knocked and then remembered that—” She broke off, flushing.

“It is all right.” Hannah rose from the small vanity where she had been staring unhappily into the mirror and wondering whether she could ever face the duke or his family again. “Come in.”

“... so glad ... another female ... Aunt Eleanor
... such fun...” Lady Lucille twirled around the room, her clear blue eyes sparkling.

Hannah could pick up only a few words. “I fear I must ask you to slow down,” she said at last.

“Oh, how stupid of me! And you must call me Lucy.” She came to a stop directly in front of Hannah. “What a
try
ing
afternoon you have had! Allow me to apologize for Aunt Eleanor’s rudeness. I hope you will not reconsider your decision to visit us.”

Hannah knew she must have misunderstood. The duke’s sister was making it appear as if she were actually a welcome guest despite her appalling behavior. “Lady Lucille,” she began, her cheeks burning in shame.

“ ’Tis Lucy,” she corrected. Her smile brought twin dimples to her flawless cheeks. “’Else I will be forced to call you Miss Gregory, and I have no intention of doing so. After all, you are Charles’s cousin. That is practically like a member of the family!”

Hannah swallowed her guilt. “That is very kind of you, but it is I who owe you and your aunt an apology.”

Lucy tilted her head consideringly. “I suppose you must go through the motions for form’s sake, but do not feel badly. I used to take Aunt Eleanor on when she first came here, but it was not worth the constant battling.” Lucy smiled. “Now, I pretend as if I am deaf and go on about my—” She broke off, stricken. “Oh! I am sorry.”

“I did not take offense.” Hannah smiled. “The duke has accused me of being touchy about my deaf
n
ess, but I assure you I am not
.
”

Lucy frowned. “Julian said
that
?”

“Immediately after upbraiding me for my behavior, and he was right to do so.” Hannah paused. “Though I made it worse by calling him a turnip, and—”

“You called Julian a
turnip
?”
Lucy’s eyes filled with awe. “I have never know anyone to speak so—”

“And live to tell the tale?” Hannah interjected. “Yes, I can imagine that one would do well to avoid displeasing your brother. Unfortunately, I fear I have a rather reckless temper.
”
She sighed.

Thoughtfully, Lucy pursed her lips. “How is it that you and Julian are at odds, when he and Charles are such good friends?”

Hannah
flushed. She would give the game away if she was not careful. “I suppose we took an instant dislike to each other.
I have heard of such things happening.”

“Oh, I hope not. Julian is such a dear.”

Dear?
That contemptuous, haughty man? Well, perhaps even a tyrant could seem tame when seen through his sister’s charitable eyes. Hannah murmured something noncommittal, but Lady Lucille had crossed the room and was staring out the window.

“... needs a wife
... you would not believe all those creatures he cavorts with
... poor unhappy man.”

Hannah frowned. Though she missed many of the words, it was clear that Lady Lucille’s view of the duke differed greatly from her own. She walked over to the window. Lady Lucille was looking down at the front drive, where Sir Charles was entering his carriage. That put Hannah in mind of the role she was to play. She cleared her throat.

“Sir Charles ... Charles and I are grateful for you hospitality,” she said awkwardly.

Lucy whirled around. “... not at all
... wonderful idea ... make the rounds together.” She halted, then spoke more slowly. “And, of course, we will find you a husband,” she assured Hannah. “You must not pay Aunt Eleanor any mind. I am sure the suitors will flock to your side.”

For the first time Hannah wondered if Lady Lucille possessed all of her faculties. There was absolutely nothing about her own appearance to draw a second look. Lady Lucille, on the other hand, was an exquisite beauty. Her hair shone like spun gold, and her blue eyes bore the clear serenity of Cheshire skies.

“I can well imagine they flock to your side, Lucy, but I am not expecting—”

“Oh, ’tis easy, Hannah,” she interrupted. “You are smart and direct. The truly interesting men do not enjoy women without a thought in their heads. Aunt Eleanor says that I must learn to be docile and agreeable, but I think it is much more interesting to say what one thinks. It is amazing how many men agree.”

Privately, Hannah thought that most men would agree with anything Lucy said. “Is there any one man who has taken your fancy?” she asked.

Lucy shook her head. “Aunt Eleanor says I must soon fix my attention or risk being scorned as a relentless flirt, but I am enjoying my fun. Why must a woman be limited by the expectations others have for her?”

Why indeed? Hannah thought. But she saw the source of the duke’s fears for his sister. Though she could hardly imagine this delightful young woman doing anything truly rash, perhaps Lucy did have a reckless streak. “I suppose o
n
e must be mindful of flirting unwisely,” she ventured.

“Oh, I am not a flirt,” Lucy said. “I would marry if I found the right man. But I have not, and so I suppose I shall be an ape leader when all is said and done.”

“Surely not.” Hannah eyed her incredulously.

“Perhaps I should not tell this to you,” she added, blushing, “but Charles has proposed to me three times. Of course he was only being polite. Julian probably confided his worry that I will be a dreary old spinster, and Charles was trying to be kind.”

“I do not think that men propose marriage out of kindness,” Hannah said dubiously.

“Perhaps not in general, but Charles has been Julian’s best friend for ages. He is like
a ...
well, like another brother to me. And I am like his sister. We had quite a laugh over it the last time he proposed.”

Hannah could not imagine such a thing, but she kept her own counsel. It was quite possible that Sir Charles was smitten with Lucy but did not know how to get over the barrier of their friendship. She wondered if Lucy’s feelings were engaged, and decided that even if they were, she had not admitted it to herself.

“I can think of worse things than marrying a good friend,” Hannah said carefully.

With sudden dejection, Lucy flounced into a chair. “I do not want a friend. I want passion—a man who cannot live without me, who offers a love that will stand the test of time.”

Hannah
suppressed a sigh. The duke’s sister truly lived in a fairy-tale world. “I am sure some friendships have caught fire,” she offered.

“Perhaps,” Lucy replied. “But if something is right, should it not be ri
ght
from the outset? If there is to be passion, should it not turn one’s head from the very start?” She laughed. “I want to be swept off my feet, Hannah. And soon.”

Oh, dear, Hannah thought. Lucy was in greater danger than even the duke thought.