Chapter Eight

The smell of tobacco must have embedded itself into every surface in this room, Michael mused. It was threatening to choke him. He would have left the parlour a long time ago if he wasn’t so certain that social disgrace would follow him.

“And that Lady Hannah, oh my! A feisty young thing, she is.”

Michael rolled his eyes, certain that the overly enthusiastic gentleman to his left would not notice. He had been going on about Lady Hannah for some time now. Whenever the conversation shifted, he deftly steered it back to her. Michael would have admired his determination had it not been irritating.

“You and that Lady Hannah,” another one of the gentlemen Michael was sitting with groaned. “Why don’t you up and marry the lady if you are so infatuated with her?”

“Perhaps I shall! I shall approach her father with my intentions in the morning. But for now, do you think she will fancy roses or peonies?”

“How on earth are we to know?” drawled another.

The gentleman appeared oblivious to how annoying he was, a fact that Michael found somewhat amusing. He sat in a group of eight men, the others taking turns playing billiards. Between the decanters of whiskey and the snuff boxes being passed around, it was only a matter of time before half of them were too out of it to say a proper sentence.

Lord Blimey, Michael realised suddenly. He had been trying to recall the name of the overly smitten lord since the moment he opened his mouth about Lady Hannah. A fitting title, he supposed.

“I shall ask her then,” Lord Blimey mused aloud, oblivious. “Shall I go now?”

“Go right ahead,” said Lord Penly, who had been quietly glaring at Lord Blimey without saying a word. “And be sure to return to us and tell us what she says.”

Lord Blimey was already out of his chair. “I shall! Wish me luck, gentlemen!”

Michael shook his head at him as he hurried off. He was an eager young thing. Older than Michael and yet so obviously inexperienced that it was difficult to watch. Though he supposed it would be rather nice if Lord Blimey had the happy ending with Lady Hannah he was so desperately longing for.

“I thought we would never be done with him,” Lord Penly sighed. “What a sap. I hope he does not blame us when he is inevitably sent away from the ball.”

“Good riddance,” Lord Thornbush retorted. They always came in threes, Michael noticed. Lord Penly, Lord Millbury, and Lord Thornbush never seemed to be far from each other.

“Yes, quite so,” said another lord, whom Michael had not been introduced to. Not that he really cared to be. “But Lord Penly, I have been meaning to ask. I saw you talking with a lovely sunset-haired lady just before dinner. Is she new to London?”

“Oh, you mean Lady Elaine?”

Michael straightened in his seat, the whiskey-induced haze lifting immediately.

“She was talking to all of us,” Lord Millbury pointed out but Lord Penly fanned him off.

“Yes, but she seemed far more interested in me than in you two,” he pressed. “And to answer your question, Lord Gringott, she is not new to London. If I recall correctly, she has resided here nearly all her life, but only recently received the chance to debut. I believe she is being sponsored by the Viscount of Abney.”

Michael glanced over at the billiards table. Lord Abney stood there with his cue stick between him, frowning down at the table with a concentration that the game certainly did not deserve. The man seemed to have an uncanny sixth sense about him so Michael made sure to look away before he saw him staring.

“A pretty thing, isn’t she?” Lord Thornbush said with a cheeky grin.

“Yes, I believe I shall keep my eye on her,” Lord Penly agreed with a nod, draining his glass.

“May the best gentleman win then,” said Lord Millbury.

Michael got to his feet. He paid the men no attention as he stalked away, knowing that they were staring after him. Something burned deep in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that only began to grow as the men continued talking about Lady Elaine.

It didn’t matter if someone thought her suitable to be courted, he told himself, making his way to the sideboard. She was beautiful, with a natural innocence that men were bound to be drawn to. He’d seen firsthand how taken Lord Penly seemed to be with her while they spoke. And he had no intention of courting her himself, so why did it bother him so?

Perhaps because they may come in the way of his plans. Yes, that had to be it. He needed to get close to her. It wouldn’t help if there was another gentleman monopolising her time.

Satisfied with that, he proceeded to pour himself another drink.

“Your Grace.”

Michael stiffened. Schooling his expression, he turned to face him. “Lord Grovington.”

The marquess’ lips pulled apart into what Michael assumed was meant to be a smile. “I had hoped to speak with you alone.”

“Is there a matter you wished to discuss, my lord?”

“No, nothing quite that serious,” the marquess said, waving a beefy hand in dismissal. “I only wished to have a conversation; you see. I was such close friends with the late duke so I do understand the toll his death may be taking on you.”

“Do you truly?”

“Quite so, Your Grace. He left such a legacy behind. I hope his business has retained its reputation?”

Michael took a measured sip of his whiskey, granting himself a moment to gather his thoughts. He had no desire to disclose any details of the matter to the marquess. Travelling all over London to gather information about his father’s wrongful conviction had been difficult enough. Adding managing the affairs of the dukedom and the shipping business had only made it more so. The last thing Michael intended to do was explain all of that to Lord Grovington, especially since he knew the marquess to be a rival in the industry.

“It has been trying,” he said at last. “But I have managed.”

“Managed, have you? That is quite admirable.”

“Yes, well, my father raised me to stand in his stead when the time came. It is only a pity that the time had to come so soon.”

“A pity, yes.” Lord Grovington took a slow sip as well. The silence deepened between them but Michael refused to be the first to break it. “I take it you have returned to London to partake in this year’s Season?”

“Only to support my sister.”

“Did she not debut last year? I would have expected your support then.”

Michael was able to recognise that the questioning was rather intentional. He just couldn’t figure out what the marquess’ aim was. So he had to give careful responses, neither denying nor confirming anything the marquess was insinuating.

“And since I was not present last year, I ensure that I was this time around,” he said at last.

“That is quite admirable, Your Grace. A remarkable trait in a gentleman such as yourself.”

Michael, not trusting the marquess’ intention, only nodded.

“Of course, it is a duke’s duty to marry and bear an heir,” Lord Grovington went on. “Someone to carry on the lineage. I’m sure you know that.”

“I am aware.”

“Marvelous. And advantageous matches are made all the time. After all, the right alliance can do wonders for rehabilitating one’s…reputation.”

There it was. Michael gritted his teeth, suppressing a grimace. The last thing he wished was to deal with the marquess’s attempts to match him with his daughter.

“That is certainly true, my lord,” he answered carefully. “And it is something I shall bear in mind when I do decide to marry. Which, I assure you, shall not be for some time to come.”

Lord Grovington’s listless smile finally fell, eyes hardening. “You should take care not to let the good ladies slip out of your grasp, Your Grace.”

“There will always be more.”

Lord Grovington didn’t like that response at all. The tension seeping into the air around them would have been enough to stifle him if he’d cared. But it didn’t matter to Michael what the marquess thought about him in this moment. The only thing he cared about was ensuring his plan was fulfilled, that he got the chance to taste sweet, sweet vengeance at last. Lord Grovington and Lady Isabella were the last of his worries.

Before any further words could pass between the two men, Lord Jones's voice resonated through the room. “Let us all make haste to the…” He trailed off, eyes rolling to the back of his head in obvious intoxication. Michael was almost certain that he would topple over. But then his eyes returned to its rightful place and he continued. “...to the drawing room.”

At long last! That was the only reason Michael hadn’t upped and left this dreaded ball already.

The men began to file out of the room, even those who had been in the middle of playing billiards. As he exited, Michael caught Lord Abney’s gaze, attempting to mask his unease at the viscount’s penetrating stare.

Everything else fell to the back of his mind as he made his way to the drawing room, led by the stumbling Lord Jones. He had a plan to carry out. It had nothing to do with the odd tingle of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing Lady Elaine again. He’d tortured himself with the sight of her across the table during dinner, so close yet so far, and had thought of a hundred different things he would like to say to her. Now was his chance.

His gaze fell immediately upon her as he stepped into the room. Not to his surprise, she’d pushed herself into the farthest corner she could find. What did surprise him, however, was that she was not alone.

As he approached, Clarissa’s eyes fell on him and her smile fell, laughter dying on her lips. She narrowed her eyes at him but Michael paid her no mind. His attention was on the auburn-haired beauty who stood beside her, who didn’t seem to know where to put her gaze.

“Lady Elaine,” he greeted smoothly. “I’ve come to whisk you away.”

“She is mine for the remainder of the evening,” Clarissa asserted, possessively clasping Lady Elaine’s arm. “Isn’t that right, Elaine?”

“I was not aware I was something to be had,” Lady Elaine murmured, rather bemused.

Michael coughed to hold back his laughter at his sister’s shock.

“Elaine!” Clarissa gasped. “I thought we’d become quite close already. What a shame.”

The stupefied expression on Lady Elaine’s face only made it that much more entertaining. Holding back the rest of his laughter, Michael said, “Clarissa, I believe Uncle Henry is looking for you. Something about accepting a proposal on your behalf?”

“What?” Clarissa gasped. She pulled away from Lady Elaine immediately. “How could he?”

And she was off. Michael marvelled for a moment at how little things had changed since their youth. Clarissa was as easy to fool as before.

“Is that true?”

Lady Elaine’s soft voice brought his attention back to her. He supposed it would be more mannerable to stand by her side and face the room, rather than have his back to it, but he was quite liking pretending no one else existed in here but them. That way he could focus on ensuring he gained her trust.

“Is what true?” he asked.

She stared up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Is your uncle Henry truly going to accept a proposal on her behalf?”

For a moment, Michael could only stare at her. And then he chuckled. “You are aseasy to fool as my sister.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I thought it was rather obvious that it was a ploy for her to leave us be.”

The indignation that filled her eyes for a brief moment fizzled away. “Oh. I see. I suppose I should have noticed that from the beginning.”

“Don’t worry about it. It is not your fault you’re so gullible.”

“I am not gullible,” she protested easily, making Michael raise a brow at her. “Need I remind you that I only met you and Clarissa just this evening and I do not know your Uncle Henry. For all I know, such a scenario could be entirely possible.”

“Gullible and feisty,” he observed. “Quite the combination. But I must say, my lady, I am very upset with you.”

Again, her eyes widened. No matter how many times he witnessed it himself, Michael couldn’t believe how much of her emotions she displayed on her face. Like she’d opened a window to her inner thoughts. “Upset with me? Whatever for?”

“You have already grown so close with Clarissa that you call her by her given name. I did meet you first.”

“But you are a duke.”

“So?”

“So you should be referred to as such.”

“Then what was the purpose of my given name?”

“For close family and friends, of course. Which I am not.”

“Oh!” He clutched his chest, grinning devilishly. “Another blow to the heart. I do not think I will be able to survive another, my lady.”

Lady Elaine’s lips twitched. He could tell she was trying her hardest to remain serious. “You jest, Your Grace, but I am required to maintain the utmost propriety and manners.”

“Says who?”

“Says—” She broke off, flabbergasted at his questions. “Says the rules of society!”

“Set by whom? The King? The Queen?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not,” he said, leaning against the wall closest to him as he jabbed his hands into his pockets. “Neither of them are here either way.”

Lady Elaine said nothing for a moment, studying him openly. He took it as his chance to do the same. The longer he did, however, the more difficult it was to breathe. The more he wondered how bad it would be if he stepped just a little closer, pressing them further into the corner.

“Perhaps you are a rake,” she said softly.

Michael raised one brow. “Pardon?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said quickly, clearly surprised that he had heard her. Which amused him a little because surely she did not think she had whispered it? “Do you play?”

“Pardon?” he said again and realised that he was repeating himself only when her lips twitched.

Silently, she pointed to a chess table nearby. Michael hadn’t noticed it. He hadn’t noticed a number of things, he realised, so consumed as he was in Lady Elaine. The crowd had thinned out some, a number of the guests silently declaring that they could not last much longer. He thought he should be amongst them, heading back to the comfort of his study where he could pore over his documents like he had done for the past few weeks. But there was a hopeful glint in Lady Elaine’s eyes and he was answering her before he even thought about it.

“Perhaps not as well as you, my lady,” he purred and was pleased when she blushed furiously. He hadn’t meant to flirt with her just now. Just like he hadn’t meant to flirt with her during their dance and afterwards either. It simply came out.

“You do not know how well I play, Your Grace,” she said. “I could be absolutely dreadful.”

“I do not think that someone who is absolutely dreadful would even suggest it in the first place.”

“Perhaps simply for the love of the game?”

“If you loved it so much, I expect you to be good at it by now. Would you like to play a round or two?”

“It would be a pleasure,” she answered modestly. “Though I fear my skill may not be up to par.”

Michael said nothing, simply gesturing with a swipe of his hand for her to go ahead. She did that, eyes cast to the floor, her cheeks coloured that adorable pink that did something odd to him every time he witnessed it. He made sure to pull out her chair and hastened to the other side while she set the board.

Then she transformed before his very eyes. Her fingers were swift, placing the pieces where they should be with such efficiency one would think she would be hung if she didn’t. The smile disappeared, her eyes growing focused and determined. As she made the first move, Michael realised he just might have fallen into her trap.

He was not rusty, however, and he liked a challenge as much as anyone else. And Lady Elaine surely did put up a challenge. They grew quiet, seconds stretching endlessly between their plays. When he made a move that forced her on the defensive, her lips twitched. As if she relished the challenge. As if that was exactly what she wanted him to do.

It was the most endearing thing he’d ever witnessed.

“Checkmate,” Lady Elaine stated with a flourish. “My, Your Grace, I thought you would make it harder for me.”

Michael blinked when she looked at him, straightening, realising he had been staring for far longer than he should have been. “I have not played in a while,” he defended. “Perhaps after a few more plays, I will be able to squeeze a win out of you.”

“Shall we go again then?” Lady Elaine asked. She was already moving the pieces back to their starting positions with a fervour he had not seen in her all evening.

“Elaine?”

Lady Abney appeared at her side, touching her gently on the shoulder. “Perhaps we should take our leave now. It is quite late already.”

“Oh.” Disappointment sank over Lady Elaine like a heavy blanket, hiding that happy little smile of hers. “Forgive me, I had not noticed.”

“You needn’t worry. James seemed rather preoccupied with a game of whist and had not noticed the late hour either. I would love to have you two stay for a while longer, but I am falling asleep as we speak.”

Lady Elaine hurried to her feet. Michael stood as well, masking his disappointment. It seemed she was just beginning to warm up to him.

Lady Abney glanced his way before murmuring, “I shall give you a moment to bid your farewells.”

The moment the dowager viscountess walked away, Michael said, “I shall not say goodbye. Not yet.”

Lady Elaine frowned slightly, confused. “You do not seem very keen on minding your manners, Your Grace.”

He could not help laughing at that. It bubbled forth without warning, with a level of carefreeness that he hadn’t felt in years. “I do not mean that I shall turn my back to you while you leave, my lady. I simply meant to suggest that I escort you to your carriage.”

“Oh.” The pink cheeks returned. “If it is not too much, I would enjoy that.”

Michael grinned, offering her his elbow. She took it with a shy smile. He turned towards the door, not missing the eyes that followed them all the way. They were talking about him, he knew.

Poor girl.

The dreadful scandal.

How dare he?

Bits and pieces of scathing gossip floated to his ears but he pretended not to hear them and hoped Lady Elaine was as oblivious to it as she seemed to be with everything else. He didn’t dare look at her, just in case.

He didn’t actually see when Lord Abney fell in step behind them. Michael only felt an overbearing presence all of a sudden, looming with such fierceness that it was a wonder shadows weren’t following in the viscount’s wake. He didn’t pay it any mind, however. He couldn’t pay much mind to anything when Lady Elaine’s scent was distracting him.

“I have another confession, my lady,” Michael murmured to her as soon as they made it to the foyer. Knowing that their time together was about to be cut short, he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t let her leave without saying his next words.

“What’s that?” she whispered back. Or at least try to whisper, Michael supposed. Hopefully, Lord and Lady Abney were not too close behind to overhear.

“Meeting you has made my decision to attend this year’s Season worth it.”

As they stepped out onto the porch, Michael lamented the fact that the dim lighting hid the blush that was certainly staining her cheeks. But he heard abashment in her voice when she asked, “Shall I see you again then?”

The hope in her voice was what stalled him. It shouldn’t have. He knew that. Just as much as he knew that escorting her to her carriage was overkill. But Michael was beginning to realise that there were a number of things that felt out of his control since the moment he laid eyes on her. What was one more thing?

“I certainly hope so,” he said at last, before bending to kiss the back of her gloved hand. Her fingers tightened slightly against his and when he raised his head to meet her eyes, he was struck by the sheer depth of emotions simmering within them.

His heart thudded against his chest. Someone—presumably Lord Abney—cleared their throat behind him and Michael remembered to let go of her hand. But he couldn’t look away from her. Even when she broke eye contact and climbed into the carriage. Even when Lord Abney passed by with narrowed eyes and Lady Abney looked pleasantly curious. Even as the carriage began its trek out of the driveway.

Michael just stood there wondering what in the world he’d just gotten himself into.

***

“Well,” Lorna’s voice filled the quiet carriage. “The duke seems nice.”

Elaine giggled behind her hand. There was nothing left for her to do at that point. Filled with such delirious euphoria as she was, it was the only thing she could do. Her heart was already racing, her fingers had grown clammy under her gloves, and there was an unusual heat sparking in her midsection every time she thought about the duke.

“Yes,” she answered her aunt, unable to wipe that broad, sappy grin off her face. “He is nice.”

“Do you think he fancies you?” James inquired, his tone as direct as ever.

“Oh, good grief,” Lorna sighed. “There is no need to ruin her night with your speculations.”

“It’s fine, Aunt Lorna,” Elaine said gently. “Truly.” She faced her cousin. “What do you think, James? As someone who has possessed such feelings before, do you think he fancies me?”

Lorna’s eyes grew wide at that and Elaine knew James was bound to be questioned on who he’d felt feelings for in the past. His jaw ticked and he narrowed his eyes at Elaine as if he knew it was going to happen as well.

“He does seem to be taken with you,” James admitted at last. “As did many other gentlemen there. Like Lord Penly, for example.”

“Lord Penly talks about himself far too often,” Elaine sighed.

“Then what of Lord Weatherby?”

“He is twice my age!” Elaine gasped. “Perhaps even thrice!”

“He is wealthy and a good man. You cannot ask for anything else when seeking a marriage.”

Elaine sank into her chair, sighing softly. Reality crept over her senses, chasing away the dreamy memories of her night with the duke. James was right. But… “Wouldn’t it be nice if I married someone who was kind, wealthy, and closer to my age?”

“Certainly. There are several eligible gentlemen available to you in London and I believe you have made your mark this evening.”

“But you needn’t make your choice so soon, my darling,” Lorna chimed in. “Who knows? You may meet someone who is far more charming and more handsome than His Grace. There is no need to put all of one’s eggs into one basket.”

Except, she might have no other choice. Elaine knew she would not have the luxury of having another Season if she did not find a husband during this one. She simply had to. Which meant that she had to accept any good card dealt to her.

But the Duke of Ryewood could be that good card. If he was, would James oppose him?

Elaine snuck a glance at her cousin, who was now staring out the window with that tiny little frown always present on his face. She wondered if he was thinking about her future, if he was making a mental list of all the gentlemen she should not get involved with. And was His Grace on that list? Did it have to do with the scandal that apparently surrounded him and his title?

Elaine had caught bits of what others were saying about him as they left the drawing room, but not enough to tell her what he’d actually done to warrant such judgment. Perhaps it would be a good idea to learn that before she let her feelings get out of control.

Thinking about the way his lips brushed against her hand sent those feelings into haywire once more. Oh, she wished she hadn’t been wearing gloves. What would that have felt like?

I certainly hope so , he’d said.

Elaine settled into her seat, looking blankly out the window as she made a decision for herself. If he truly fancied her, then he must prove it. Otherwise, she would refuse to entertain any delusions about their relationship.

Tomorrow, at least. For tonight, she would surrender to her dreams.