Chapter 3

Chapter Three

" H is Grace, the Duke of Courtland and Lady Eliza," the butler intoned, ushering August out to the terrace to greet their hostess.

Lady Talbot, aghast at having been caught lolling about, jumped to her feet and shot the butler a pained look. "I wasn't made aware of your arrival, Your Grace." She immediately sank into a curtsey. "My apologies?—"

The rest of her little greeting was cut short as something possessing feathers batted August directly above his right eye. His first inclination was to throw Eliza to the ground and protect her, but then he realized the object had bounced off his temple and towards Lady Talbot's ample bosom before popping up in the air to settle between his feet.

Feathers. Cork. He'd been assaulted by a bloody shuttlecock.

A strangled sound came from his hostess, obviously horrified at the welcome he'd received. She stayed in place a moment longer than necessary, assuming the sight of her bosom would distract him from having been hit. Ordinarily it would. August might be a reformed libertine, but Lady Talbot possessed a spectacular bosom.

"I'm so sorry, Your Grace. Some of the other guests are entertaining themselves on the lawn." She raised her hand and waited for him to take it.

August's fingers closed over hers, his gaze floating over Lady Talbot's shoulder to the sight of a tall, lithe brunette, pale blue skirts fluttering about her ankles, standing with her mouth gaping open.

The culprit of the shuttlecock assault.

At his look, she hastily tucked the small racquet behind her back, making the most graceless curtsey August had ever seen. Almost as if her long legs wouldn't bend properly.

Viscount Everhurst stood just behind August's assailant, a smile pulling at his lips.

He was well acquainted with Everhurst, though he hadn't seen him since shortly after Edward's death when the title of duke had been unwelcomely bestowed upon August.

A small, disgruntled noise came from Eliza. His cousin had gone completely still, trying to hide her obvious discomfort at the sight of Everhurst.

August inclined his head, acknowledging the viscount. He was pleased to see him well and hopping about, even if it was to chase a shuttlecock. Everhurst had nearly lost his leg at Quatre Bras. The last time August had seen him, Everhurst had still been using a cane.

And I was rather unpleasant.

Turning his attention to the woman in blue striding in his direction, he noted she didn't look terribly contrite at having swatted a duke with a shuttlecock, not with an impish smile ghosting at her lips. The fabric of her skirts molded to the length of her legs as she walked, giving August the barest glimpse of what lay beneath the silk.

As she approached, he could make out the slight sheen of moisture on her skin, the result of having been prancing around with Everhurst in the heat of the afternoon. Several strands of dark hair had fallen from the neat bun at her neck and clung to her cheeks and temples. Freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. The small valley between the mounds of her breasts moved with every breath she took.

Not beautiful at all. Pretty, at best.

But something inside August stirred all the same.

A few steps before reaching him, she suddenly faltered, eyes widening briefly in surprise before quickly lowering. She dropped into another awkward curtsey as a light floral scent caught in August's nostrils. Wildflowers. An entire field of honeysuckle, cornflower, and primroses.

"Your Grace," she uttered in a sultry voice so filled with challenge, August's skin rippled.

There wasn't any doubt as to this woman's identity.

How bloody fitting.

"May I present my friend, Miss Hazel Dartmont." Lady Talbot made the introduction as August took Miss Dartmont's slender fingers in his own. "Who is overly enthusiastic in shuttlecock, Your Grace."

"An accident," Miss Dartmont uttered politely. "I do apologize, Your Grace."

The words were pretty, but there was no real apology in Miss Dartmont. If anything, the deep brown of her eyes flashed with dislike, as though August's presence offended her. The draper's daughter, for that was how he'd come to think of her in the carriage, was completely unimpressed at meeting a duke. Or maybe it was the result of her freckled nose coming only as far as August's chin when she straightened.

"I'm rarely pelted with shuttlecocks, Miss Dartmont."

"There is a first time for everything, Your Grace." She forced a smile, more akin to a grimace. "I did not notice your arrival." The sentence was laced with insult. "Else I would have stopped the game with Lord Everhurst."

Lady Talbot cleared her throat, perhaps sensing the crackle of tension between him and Miss Dartmont. August could certainly feel the sparks lighting against his skin. He didn't mind a bit of hostility—it made things interesting. But he'd never met Miss Dartmont and so couldn't account for her dislike, though her name felt…familiar to him. Yet he was certain he'd never seen her before.

"I dare not wonder what you would accomplish with a pall mall mallet, Miss Dartmont," August said in a cool tone. "Or during a game of bowls."

"Disaster, no doubt, Your Grace." An overly polite half-smile appeared on her wide, full mouth.

The idea of what he could do with such a mouth nearly distracted August from the menace coming off her in waves.

"Miss Dartmont doesn't play pall mall, Your Grace." Lady Talbot smiled trying to lighten the air between August and her friend. "Or bowls."

"A pity." Lady Talbot seemed terrified her friend might murder him if given the chance.

"Yes," Miss Dartmont added. "A shame."

"My cousin." He tore his gaze from Miss Dartmont, deciding she would not be ‘falling into his arms' as he'd hoped. Most women came to him easily. August was pleasantly surprised the draper's daughter would not. A bit of a chase made things interesting. "Lady Eliza Wade."

Miss Dartmont turned to Eliza. "A pleasure, my lady."

Eliza took her in. "I am pleased to meet you, Miss Dartmont. I attended a tea for Widows of Fallen Heroes, which is where I met Lady Talbot. I should like to learn more during our stay. I understand you are quite active in the charity."

Nicely done, Eliza.

"Miss Dartmont has a true passion for such things," Lady Talbot said smoothly, answering before her friend could speak. "I'm sure she would welcome your curiosity."

"Indeed, my lady," Miss Dartmont replied. "I look forward to it." She took a wide step back as she spoke, nearly pushed aside by another guest and her two daughters. Soon August was enveloped in a cloud of people, all demanding their introduction to the Duke of Courtland. He wasn't quite done with Miss Dartmont, however, August sensed she was done with him.

She slid away before he could stop her.

Definitely hostile.

Her tall form settled into a chair on the other side of the terrace, one leg crossed over the other, dangling foot swinging in agitation as she observed the other guests fawning over August. She rolled her eyes and yawned, clearly finding him and the entire affair to be tedious.

He stifled the laughter threatening to spill from him. Had he not already been here to seduce and woo Miss Dartmont, her pointed behavior today would have ensured his pursuit.

Once the introductions were finished, Lady Talbot waved her butler forward. "I'm sure you wish to refresh yourselves after the journey from London. Your things have been brought up." She pursed her lips. "Will your valet arrive soon, Your Grace?"

A valet was an expense August couldn't afford at present—and one he found entirely unnecessary while living in the country. "I'm between valets at the moment, Lady Talbot. Difficult to find one who suits me and doesn't mind living mostly at Windhaven. I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

If Lady Talbot thought that odd, she didn't comment. "And Lady Eliza?—"

"I was hoping I could borrow one of your maids, Lady Talbot. I had to leave Mary in London at the last minute when she fell ill. I hope you don't mind."

Mary wasn't a maid, but their cook and housekeeper. Eliza had been dressing herself with Mary's help for ages.

"Not at all." Lady Talbot inclined her head. "I'll send one of the girls up. Owen will show you to your rooms." She waved the butler forward.

Owen bowed. "This way, Your Grace. Lady Eliza."

Once they were headed towards the stairs, the butler leading, Eliza murmured in a low tone, "Miss Dartmont is exactly as I expected. She is rather impertinent and not easily impressed. I do not think she'll be leaping into your arms." Eliza shot him a look. "She seems rather averse to you. Have you met before? I don't see how unless…possibly in Bristol?"

"There is something familiar about her," August answered. "But we've never met." The blood still hummed beneath his skin from the brief touch of her hand and the scent of her in his nostrils. "I would recall Miss Dartmont for her height, if nothing else. Definitely not a giantess, as you were led to believe. She only reaches my chin."

"Nevertheless." Eliza pursed her lips. "I am glad for the presence of several other suitable young ladies, particularly Lady Coraline. She is more lovely than I recall."

August raised a brow. Clearly his cousin didn't care for Miss Dartmont. "Good to see Everhurst."

Eliza tensed beside him. "Is it?"

August might have spent a great portion of his life completely oblivious to nearly everything except self-indulgence, but he could still remember some details of Eliza's debut. Namely that Everhurst had been one of the many young gentlemen surrounding her…but little else. Something more must have happened between them during Eliza's first and only Season.

"I think it wonderful Everhurst is here." An image flashed before August of dragging the unconscious Everhurst across the grass, blood spilling over both of them.

"Your room, Lady Eliza. I will send a maid to assist with your unpacking," the butler said, bringing August back to the present.

Eliza slid inside, lips tight. She didn't care to discuss Everhurst with him.

"Are you going to tell me, Eliza?—"

"I'll see you a bit later, Your Grace," she interrupted, shutting the door in his face.

"Rude, Eliza," August said under his breath. "Lead on, Owen."