Chapter 6

Chapter Six

U pon entering the drawing room after dinner, Hazel walked directly to the doors leading outside to the gardens, allowing the cool night air to bathe her skin. The dining room had been overly warm and filled with creatures for whom she did not care.

Well, one creature.

Outside of August, the other guests weren't so terrible except for Lady Leek, who wasn't shy in espousing her polite disdain for Hazel. The young ladies present hadn't sought her out, only because she didn't have a great deal in common with them. The Pierce girls and Lady Coraline were bred to be pretty ornaments and grace a table, while Hazel had worked tirelessly beside her parents and Uncle Ralph in the early days of Dartmont Brothers. She would still be working alongside her uncle if Hazel hadn't been determined to use her wealth to help the families of war veterans.

She stood at the window for some time, enjoying the darkness folding over the gardens. The sound of boots entering the drawing room informed her the gentlemen had returned to join the ladies.

"Good evening, Miss Dartmont. Would you mind the company?"

"Lord Garland." She turned to greet him. The slight ginger-haired earl had proved to be pleasant enough over the course of the last few nights. He had confided to Hazel that his sole purpose in attending the house party was Lady Coraline. Garland was terribly smitten.

"I was just admiring Lady Talbot's gardens," she said.

"Quite beautiful in the moonlight, are they not?"

Garland fancied himself something of a scholar, which did not endear him to Lady Leek. She was much more concerned with connections and wealth than intelligence. Hazel, however, had a keen interest in history and science. She and Garland had played chess together several times in the last few days while discussing the Babylonians. Garland's only fault, in Hazel's opinion, was his tendency to drink too much brandy. When in such a state, he waxed poetic over Lady Coraline, obsessing over how he could secure her hand.

Garland cleared his throat, trying without success to stop glancing towards Coraline, who was clinging to August like a burr on a horse. "The night air is quite refreshing. Just what I needed." A cloud of brandy surrounded Hazel after he spoke. "The drawing room seems filled with hot ducal air."

Hazel raised a brow.

He made a sound of apology. "Forgive me, Miss Dartmont, that was incredibly rude. Since Courtland's arrival, I haven't had a moment of Coraline's attention. I fear it has put me in a foul mood."

Hazel was of the opinion that if Coraline was completely enthralled with Garland, she would find some way to seek out his company whether there was a duke around or not. But she kept her thoughts to herself.

"I fear my situation is hopeless, Miss Dartmont." A deep, anguished sigh left him.

Garland tended to be overly dramatic. "Nothing is ever hopeless, my lord."

"Lord and Lady Leek have made clear to me on several occasions that their daughter deserves to be more than a mere countess. ‘The Duke of Last Resort' is vastly preferable in Lady Leek's eyes than me."

"Duke of Last Resort?" Hazel snuck a look at August. "I haven't heard him referred to as such."

"That's what they call Courtland in London. You are aware of his reputation?" Garland took her arm and steered Hazel closer to the doors.

"Lady Talbot mentioned something." Hazel didn't revolve in the same circles as Garland or August. She hadn't heard any gossip about the Duke of Courtland, and even if she had, she hadn't known he was her childhood nemesis and wouldn't have cared.

"The duke is a notorious libertine." Garland's voice lowered. "Depraved. He spent a great deal of time trotting about London in his officer's uniform before going off to the Continent. No young lady was safe from his regard. You might suppose that after witnessing battles and the like as he claims, he would have returned a better man, but upon his return to London from the Continent, Courtland's behavior was far worse than ever before. Appalling.

"Worse than a libertine?" August had been a spoiled, overindulged child. She could well imagine the sort of rake he'd been. "I didn't think that possible."

"There was an incident at Newmarket shortly after his return," Garland whispered. "He and Lady Jeremy— cavorted . While Lord Jeremy sat in his box watching the races. They weren't at all discreet. A scandal ensued. It was all anyone spoke of for months."

That all sounded quite terrible.

"Then he inherited the title and retired to the country." A bit of mockery bled into his words. "Reformed, I'm told, but I don't believe it. He still isn't received by many." A small laugh left him. "Especially not by Lord Jeremy."

"Aug—Courtland"—she hastily corrected herself—"was on the Continent?" Hazel was surprised, though glancing at Courtland just now, with his legs slightly spread and arms clasped behind him, he did have the bearing of a soldier.

"Mostly he pranced about London in his uniform, preying upon young ladies who held our honorable military in high regard." There was no mistaking Garland's mockery now. Or his bitterness towards August. "Ruined one of Lord Fairmont's girls, I'm told." His face had turned an ugly shade of purple. "Now Lady Coraline is in his clutches."

Garland was foxed, but Hazel had to agree with his assessment of August's character. As to looking splendid in his uniform, she had no doubt. Hazel's work with Widows of Fallen Heroes put her in close proximity with veterans but rarely commissioned officers, whom she considered to be overprivileged and their treatment of enlisted men unfair.

"My lord, you must not voice your opinion of the duke so freely. You will embarrass yourself," she cautioned Garland.

"How can I make Lady Coraline see, Miss Dartmont? Courtland uses his military service, which is highly exaggerated, to entice impressionable young ladies." He cast a mournful look at Coraline. "Presents himself as a wounded hero, bragging about his achievements. His sacrifice." Garland made a puffing sound. "My understanding was that his injury was barely more than a scratch, yet he implies it is much more."

Hazel's skin prickled in anger. She'd seen men missing their limbs. Or an eye. "How unseemly."

"Lady Leek seems to think him a hero." Garland made a dismissive sound. "I suppose for not falling off his horse." Longing filled his features as he cast another glance at Coraline. "I fear Courtland's only interest in Lady Coraline is her dowry. Which is enormous."

If Garland knew the sum of Coraline's dowry, it wasn't only true love which motivated him either, but Hazel declined to comment. Garland's little tirade only reinforced her opinion of August, and she didn't need to hear more. Across the room, Coraline had her face tipped up to the duke, seeming to hang on his every word. A handful of other guests surrounded them, all demanding a sliver of August's attention.

Ugh.

"I am concerned Courtland might—compromise a young lady at this very gathering," Garland pronounced, the brandy thickening his words.

Hazel bit the inside of her cheek, not wishing to laugh in Garland's face. Whatever she thought of August's character, his appearance was nothing short of breathtaking. And he was one of the most sought-after creatures in England. A duke. "I do not think the Duke of Courtland needs to ruin any young lady to induce her to wed him, poor reputation or not, my lord. What reason would he have for doing so?"

"To make a hasty match. There are rumors, Miss Dartmont, that the duke's circumstances are much reduced. He does not come to London, regularly claiming to prefer the country, and leases his house in town."

"A complete contradiction for a libertine, I grant you. But what of it, my lord?" Hazel failed to see Garland's point. "Many let out their homes if they choose not to enjoy the Season."

"That is the first sign of poverty." Garland slurred the last word ever so slightly. "Along with the selling of everything not entailed." He hiccupped. "Conjecture abounds, Miss Dartmont."

When Hazel had been a child, the Duke of Courtland's wealth had been legendary, along with his influence. She doubted either had changed overmuch, or Maria would have mentioned it to her. Garland was merely grasping at anything he could find, even gossip, in his bid to pry Coraline away from August.

"You might consider a stroll through the gardens, my lord." Hazel gently pushed Garland in the direction of the terrace. "To clear your head."

She took a glass of ratafia from a passing servant and considered Garland's drunken ramblings as he stumbled outside. Hopefully he wouldn't topple over into the roses. With a sigh, she looked away from the view of the gardens to find August regarding her with an odd look from across the room. Not dismissal.

More grim resolve.

Hazel jerked her chin in the opposite direction.

"Goodness." Maria sauntered over. "Whatever has occurred between you and the duke? Aside from the shuttlecock. He seems quite…focused on you."

"Perhaps he's plotting my demise." Hazel gave a small laugh. "After my assault."

"Hmm." Maria took her arm. "I don't think it is your demise, exactly. Do you know each other?"

"Where would I have met the Duke of Courtland, Maria? Besides, he wasn't looking at me so much as Lord Garland. Sizing him up."

"Both competing for Lady Coraline." Maria nodded slowly. "Though it isn't much of a competition. Poor Garland pales in comparison to Courtland." A gratified sound came from her. "But what man does not? Alas, despite you having bounced a shuttlecock off my bosom, I did not garner Courtland's interest. Yet . But I commend your wonderful aim, Hazel."

"Purely accidental." Hazel nudged her. "I was not aiming for your bosom."

"Pity. I was planning to have melon served at breakfast. You could launch a piece off your fork and into my bodice." Maria winked. "Much like Hough. Possibly that would force Courtland to take note."

"Wait," Hazel said. "I thought you were intent on Everhurst?"

"Not any longer." Her friend nodded to the viscount leaning against the wall, who watched Lady Eliza with a dark, predatory gaze. "I do not wish to get mired in"—she made a circle in Everhurst's direction—"whatever is going on. He has looked at no one but Lady Eliza since her arrival. I was wise to invite some extra gentlemen." At Hazel's eye roll she said, "Talbot didn't want me to be alone. He would want me to be entertained." The words held a note of sadness.

"I know you miss Talbot." Hazel touched her hand.

"I do. Dreadfully. He was a terrible old thing, wasn't he?" Maria shifted, grief pulling at her features as she blinked several times. "Now," she said after a few moments, her tone lighter. "Aren't you the least tempted by Courtland? He's far taller than you. That should count for something."

"You've just asked me to toss a bit of fruit into your bosom to draw his attention."

"I was being hopeful. He hasn't any interest in me."

"Well, I don't find him appealing. Not at all. If anything, he repulses me."

Maria's mouth gaped. "How could you not find him attractive? Just look at those shoulders. I become dizzy merely thinking about what he looks like unclothed."

Hazel had to consciously force herself not to consider all those muscles, naked and exposed, beneath her fingertips. "Far too self-absorbed," she said. "Vastly superior. Ego so large I can't imagine how he lifts his head."

"He's a duke, Hazel." Maria sniffed. "And a handsome, wealthy one. Are you sure you haven't met Courtland before? You've known him only one day, and yet your dislike of him speaks of a longer acquaintance."

"Don't be silly. Now, what do you think is wrong with Lord Glaston?" Hazel distracted her with a nod at an older gentleman standing near the fireplace beside his wife. "He doesn't look well."

"He does not." Maria's attention was easily diverted. "How strange. Lady Glaston also seems…dazed, doesn't she? What do you suppose they're looking at?" She lifted her chin to follow their line of sight. "There isn't anything in that corner of the room. Not even a painting."

"I've no idea." There was a vacant look in the eyes of both Glaston and his wife.

"Why did I invite them? Remind me." Maria tapped a finger along her chin.

"Glaston donated a large sum to Widows of Fallen Heroes. You were ecstatic. Lady Glaston has knitted an enormous number of scarves for the charity to distribute to children in need." Poorly knitted, Hazel should have added. "For which the families I visited were grateful."

When one is cold, craftmanship is the least of your concerns.

"Ah, yes. Terrible scarves and a donation. Good grief, but they're boring, despite their generous hearts. Neither uttered a word over dinner. Nothing of import to say, I suspect. Nearly as bad as Lady Pierce's daughters."

Lord and Lady Glaston were completely still, not so much as a twitch as they stood near the fireplace.

"Do you suppose they are in some sort of a trance?" Hazel observed the pair. Neither moved, as if frozen. Incredibly unsettling.

"A trance?" Maria's brow wrinkled.

"Yes, brought on by the excellent roasted duck? Very good, by the way. My compliments to Mrs. Peasley."

"She's a splendid cook." Maria cocked her head at the Glastons. "I don't believe Lord Glaston has blinked once."

"Can a person…sleep while standing? Horses sleep standing up, Maria. Do you suppose?—"

Just then Glaston let out a snort. Lady Glaston startled like a doe and blinked.

Hazel opened her mouth to say something more but was stopped by the warm scent of lime and clean linen reaching her nostrils. The same delicious aroma she'd caught from August earlier in the day. She found it unwelcome that he smelled so tempting.

"Not asleep, Miss Dartmont." The rich, aristocratic sound brushed her shoulders. "And the duck, while excellent, wouldn't put anyone in a trance."