The Heart of a Duke (33 page)

It defied logic.

And went against his better
judgment.

A young lord, a
brave
young lord, who
Michael vaguely recognized, started his way. Michael glowered until
the poor fellow swallowed nervously and hied it off in the opposite
direction. Then Michael returned his efforts to finding Aldora and
settled on her.

And St. James.

Michael clenched his teeth so hard his jaw
throbbed as he tortured himself with the sight of his brother
taking her hand in his, leading her to the dance floor for a bloody
waltz, and suddenly it was too much. This stark, ugly reminder that
Aldora was no different from every other young lady with her eyes
trained on a title, wealth, and Society’s approval.

Without a backward glance, he stormed from the
room, needing to be anywhere but in the bloody ballroom.

He’d left. He’d left but not before Aldora had
seen the faintly condescending, blatantly disapproving glare
Michael Knightly had for her. His obvious disdain had stung. It had
stung far worse than the disappointment she had felt at his
deliberate deception.

What was more is that she had wanted to throw
all ladylike sensibility to the wind, abandon the Marquess of St.
James, and flee after—

“
My lady?”

Aldora jerked her gaze forward as heat flooded
her cheeks. “Forgive me, my lord,” she murmured to the marquess.
“What was it you were saying?” Her mother would shriek herself
hoarse if she discovered Aldora was doing anything less than her
daughterly duty of securing a match with the esteemed
lord.

He inclined his head ever so slightly. “My
brother.”

“
I beg your pardon?” Was that high
pitched squeak her voice? Her blush heightened until she longed to
wave the otherwise useless fan dangling from her wrist.

“
I was mentioning the scandal that
resulted in his banishment.”

Aldora’s ears perked up and she hung on,
awaiting the marquess’s next words. It mattered because if all were
to go as planned, she would be forever tied to this family, and
their stories which in turn would impact her sisters’ and brother’s
happiness.

It was a lie. She wanted to know more about
Michael for no other reason than because he’d tugged at her foolish
heart. “Forgive me for not having paid attention. I’m afraid my
mind was elsewhere.” She held her breath, aching for him to
continue.

“
What happened was not Michael’s
fault. It was all a tragic accident that merely resulted because of
the brashness of youth. Lord Everworth was cheating at cards, and
Michael confronted him publically.” He waved his hand. “Everworth
of course, challenged Michael to a duel. Witnesses said that
Michael showed up and refused to duel. He was leaving when
Everworth fired at his back and—”

Her heart raced with irrational fear. She knew
Michael survived and yet…”And?”

“
Michael turned and fired at
Everworth’s shoulder. Severed an artery. Beg your pardon,” he said
quickly. “Hardly appropriate talk for your delicate ears.” He
glanced away, a red flush coloring his neck. “I was a coward. I
should not have cut off contact with Michael over the
years.”

Aldora bit the inside of her cheek to keep
from agreeing with him. She waited but that appeared all the
marquess intended to say on it. She sighed. “All families have
their difficulties, my lord.”

“
That is true, isn’t it?” The
probing look he gave seemed to indicate he knew her darkest
secrets.

She shoved the silly thought aside. Foolish.
Still, Aldora welcomed the end of their set. She dipped a curtsy.
“Thank you, my lord.”

“
It was my pleasure,” he said,
perfectly polite and all things gentlemanly, and not for a moment
did Aldora believe it had been any kind of pleasure. So why had he
sought her out? He extended his elbow, offering to guide her back
to her mother.

Aldora accepted and accompanied him in
silence. Her mind churned as rapid as the wheels of a fast-moving
carriage. Her own family’s scandal seemed to pale in comparison to
the Marquess of St. James’s family history.

“
He isn’t, you know.”

Aldora blinked, glancing back up at the
marquess. “I beg your pardon?” He was going to think her an
absolute ninny for not being able to follow a single thread of
conversation.

“
My brother. He isn’t the cold,
heartless monster Society has made him out to be.”

Aldora had to bite back the rapid flurry of
questions at the tip of her tongue and tried to temper the
excitement that his words roused. She shouldn’t crave these
personal details about the man Michael was, but she was unable to
quell her desire to know more. With his gritty humor and
directness, he was so very much unlike any other gentleman she’d
ever known.

Fortunately, her patience was rewarded by the
marquess’s explanation. “Society would have one believe that
Michael is a cold, unfeeling brute.”

Aldora thought to the flinty spark in
Michael’s gaze. Yes, to most he would be considered cold but his
touch, his kiss, even the chuckle, rusty from ill use, spoke a
different tale.

“
Why are you telling me this, my
lord?”

His eyes lit with appreciation. Apparently the
young marquess appreciated honesty.

He inclined his head. “I believe you should
know. Ahh, here we are,” he said, cutting into the sea of questions
on her lips.

Aldora couldn’t quell the disappointment as
she was deposited like so many used cloths on Sunday at her
mother’s side. The marquess bowed low and murmured a string of
simple pleasantries. “My lady, will you allow me to accompany your
daughter on a ride in the park tomorrow morning?”

Mother’s excited response was lost in the
weight of disappointment that fell around Aldora’s shoulders, and
threatened to weigh her down. She should be elated at the young
lord’s interest. Instead, all she could focus on was her friend’s
earlier claim about the marquess’s remarkably low opinion of women.
The marquess’s beliefs were part of the norm of their
male-dominated society. Yet, the pang of disappointment that struck
her heart reminded Aldora that there was another man very unlike
this one who held a much more favorable view on a woman’s strength
and resolve.

She watched him go, wondering over his
words.

“
Oh my dear, I believe you’ve
secured St. James’s affection,” her mother said more than a touch
too loudly. “He will make a splendid husband!”

Aldora winced and peeked around to verify
whether anyone had overheard her mother’s crass utterance.
Fortunately the din of the crowd drowned out the obsequious
whisper.

As mother prattled on a list of the marquess’s
many, many, many redeeming traits, Aldora stood there, dreaming of
his brother.

Chapter Eight

“
You know mother is going to be
less than pleased.”

Aldora picked up her pace, striding down the
walking trail. She did her best to ignore her brother. Even at the
young age of ten, he was taller than the boys his age, and very
nearly the same height as most grown women. With a dimple in his
right cheek and a devilish sparkle in his eyes, he was going to
give Mother quite a bit of trouble with the ladies
someday.

Benedict quickened his step. He easily matched
the pace she’d set. “She’ll awake soon.”

Aldora snorted. “Unlikely.”

Benedict nodded. “Fine, then. She’ll wake in
another hour or so and find you—”

“
Find us.”

“
Gone,” he continued, as though
she hadn’t even spoken.

“
There is still the matter of her
getting ready for the day,” Aldora said. Why, that would take
Mother a good two to three hours. Aldora and her siblings had
always relished the inordinate time their mother sent primping and
preening before a mirror. The more time devoted to her daily
ablutions, the better for them—for all of them.

He snorted. “Not today. With the
marque—”

She stopped and turned a frown on him.
“Don’t,” Aldora managed between clenched teeth.

Benedict eyed her curiously. “Shouldn’t you be
happy about being courted?” He wrinkled his nose. “Ladies love that
sort of stuff. Anne assured me of that.”

Aldora pointed her eyes skyward. She could
only imagine the foolish tales Anne, her fanciful younger sister,
had erroneously poured into Benedict’s young, inexperienced
head.

“
First.” She held a finger up. “Do
not listen to Anne.”

“
But—”

“
Ever,” Aldora said.

“
If you say…”

“
I do say,” she
muttered.

Benedict closed his mouth. His expressive blue
eyed indicated he very much wished to continue on the subject. He
remained silent.

Smart boy.

Then he looked around. His brow furrowed. “Why
are we here?”

Aldora frowned. “I thought you wanted to go to
Hyde Park?”

He lifted his shoulders in a little shrug.
“This is a riding trail. Ain’t exactly the best place for a
walk.”

Oh, he was too smart. Fortunately, Benedict
did not know about Michael, so he couldn’t know that this was the
trail Michael rode along.

He scuffed the tip of his shoe along the
ground, looking so utterly bored that Aldora was besieged by a wave
of guilt. She swiped her hand across her eyes. Poor Benedict. She
could only imagine how difficult it was for him, a young boy,
living amongst a household of women, deprived of any male figure
for guidance and support. There weren’t even the funds to provide
Benedict with the pleasures that Aldora and her sisters had
experienced as young girls; ices at Gunther’s, fine tutors, any of
it.

“
What is it?” Benedict asked,
calling her back to the moment.

Aldora managed a smile. “Nothing at all.” She
fished out the simple fare she’d prepared for them: two large
chunks of crusty, white bread, and slivers of apples. She held it
out to him. “Why don’t you feed the ducks?”

His eyes widened. He reached for it like he’d
been offered the Queen’s jewels. A spark lit his pale blue eyes,
stirring up guilt deep inside Aldora. She’d been so focused on her
siblings’ survival, that she’d neglected to consider their need for
the simpler things; a smile, laughter, a trip to the park just for
the sake of visiting the park. Then he froze. He pulled his fingers
back as if he’d been burned and eyed her suspiciously.

“
You’ve got no chaperone. I’m
supposed to stay with you.” He squared his shoulders and tugged at
the front of his jacket. The gesture, however, instead of giving
him a more mature look, only put her in mind of a young boy playing
at the role of adult.

Aldora tweaked his nose. “Run along. Enjoy
your time.”

He didn’t need to be told again. Benedict
snatched the morning fare as though he feared she might change her
mind. With a crooked grin, he turned on his heel and double-backed
around toward the lake they’d passed several minutes
ago.

“
Be careful, Benedict.”

“
I will,” he called, not turning
back around.

“
Do not get too close to the…” She
frowned as he disappeared from sight. “Water.”

Aldora stared off into the thick copse of
trees and bushes ahead. She should be at home, awaiting the
afternoon visit of the marquess, and yet what was she doing?
Traipsing through the park and mourning the life she’d used to
know, and hating that responsibility drove her search for a
husband, and not the yearnings of her own heart.

“
Pft,” she muttered under her
breath. It was the height of foolishness thinking about Michael.
Not when a match to his older, titled, and wealthy peer of a
brother would solve her family’s every problem.

That wasn’t altogether true. It wouldn’t solve
the problem of her happiness.

She pressed her fingers into the sides of her
temple and rubbed back a growing megrim.

“
Ahhhh!” The eerie cry filled the
morning sky.