Chapter 3

Chapter Three

T he intruder made himself comfortable, leaning against the wall beside her, folding his arms across his chest. That simple gesture made his muscles flex beneath his well-fitted clothes. The man was attractive, no doubt.

With a conscious effort, Catherine tore her eyes away. Thankfully, he did not seem to have noticed her momentary fixation with his flexing biceps.

"I think I have solved the mystery of how one of the most popular young ladies of the ton had managed to remain unmarried for three consecutive Seasons," Richard continued, holding up three fingers to show how many Seasons she had attended.

"Every Season, you always have a bevy of eligible bachelors fawning over you. I have heard tales of men queuing up outside your family townhouse. But by some miracle, you always remained single by the time everyone retired to the countryside. Thus, I came to two conclusions."

"And what might those be?" Catherine asked drily.

"You are either a snob."

Catherine rolled her eyes inelegantly at that.

"Or…" he said, before pausing dramatically. "You were holding out for love," he finished in a mocking tone.

"Well," she drawled, rising from her crouched position, "I would hate to disappoint you, but you are wrong. I do not want to marry for love."

At his dubious look, she continued. "I just want a responsible, levelheaded gentleman who would provide me with a steady home."

"If that is what you want, I am sure it would be a simple matter for your father to sign a betrothal contract with one of your many suitors."

"Unfortunately, that is not an option," she sighed ruefully. "My parents want me to have a love match, contrary to my preferences. They will only choose a man for me if they believe I love him. I want a sensible match."

"That is quite a surprise. Most people born into a love match usually fantasize about the possibility of finding a love match themselves. Why are you running in the opposite direction?"

"Let us just say that I have seen the destruction that can be wrought by excessive passion, and I do not want that for myself and any children the good Lord blesses me with," she replied.

"While I understand your resolve to never make a love match, unfortunately, you still have to attract and keep a suitor in order to get married. While you are quite an attractive lady, you, my darling, need to do something about your flirting skills."

"But," she answered, furrowing her brow in confusion, "I have never had problems attracting suitors. I think my flirting skills are all right, thank you very much."

"Darling," he drawled, his mocking smirk widening. "I hate to disappoint you. You do have many talents, I am sure, but flirting is definitely not one of them. Society teaches women to be prim and proper, but haven't you noticed that the ladies who snag husbands very early in every Season have mastered one art?" He paused dramatically for effect.

"Well, go on," she urged, exasperated when the silence stretched on.

"They had mastered the art of flirtation while maintaining the guise of innocence. What do you think they are doing when they simper and blush and flutter their fans like an extension of their fingers while casting innocent looks from beneath their lashes?"

As he spoke, some things became clearer to her. Catherine had seen all of that during the previous Seasons, but she had never aspired to pretentious behavior, so she never saw the need to emulate those ladies or pay attention to their shenanigans.

"You see," Richard continued, "men, in general, are hunters at the elemental level, and they crave the exhilaration and thrill of a chase despite their claims of respectability and decorum. You, unfortunately, possess the beauty that would attract any red-blooded man within a mile, but you lack the ability to keep them in thrall and stroke their egos."

Well, now that she thought about it, he might be right—no matter how much she wished he was not. It probably explained why she attracted a large number of suitors but finished the Season the way she began it—unmarried.

She was always polite to them, but when they showed amorous interest, she withdrew subconsciously, unsure how to respond in some cases. In other cases, she could not muster an iota of interest. It seemed it was time she unlocked the bold feminine side of her because it seemed time was not on her side, and she hoped to win back the Viscount and hopefully walk down the aisle towards him before the Season ended.

"I cannot believe I am saying this," Richard suddenly spoke up.

Catherine looked up at him quizzically.

"I can help you," he said.

Catherine was so astonished that she was speechless for a moment.

"Why would you do that, Your Grace?" she asked when she gathered herself.

"Well, it would be like a payment of sorts for you doing me a favor," he explained quietly.

"What favor?" she asked, folding her arms beneath her bosom.

That action pushed up her breasts, and she could have sworn that his eyes flicked to her bosom for a second. She would have missed it if she had not been watching him so intently.

He looked away, squaring his shoulders like he was preparing for some battle. Then he turned to her, his smirk replaced with a sober look.

"I love my younger sister to bits. But while she is a remarkable young lady, her grasp on etiquette and decorum is as feeble as a breeze—I am sure that you have noticed that. Part of that is my fault, and no matter what, I would not have her suffer censure because of my failings."

It was quite interesting that the Duke thought himself a bad father figure for his younger sister. Despite his numerous flaws, he had done more than enough for his sister than a lot of men had done for their children. It was time someone told him so.

"Emmy is my best friend, so I know enough to know that you have been a fine brother to her, more than many people could ever wish for," Catherine declared staunchly.

Richard coughed, obviously uncomfortable with the praise.

That was just the thing with him. He gave off the appearance of an arrogant man who was quite aware of his place in the world and made sure everyone knew it, but sometimes he showed a more vulnerable side of him that was uncomfortable with praise.

Which was the real man? Catherine wondered. It was obvious that some part of his character was a mask he wore for Society, but which member of the ton didn't? She had no business being curious about the possibility of unraveling his layers.

"As to the favor," he continued, unaware of the direction her thoughts were taking, "I want you to tutor my sister on the ways of the ton—fashion, etiquette and whatnot."

It was the second time she was surprised that night.

"Why do you think I am the best candidate for that? My consistent failure in the marriage mart should be ample reason to disqualify me from that role."

"You are the best teacher for her, I am afraid. For one, you are her best friend, so you are the best person to tutor her while taking into consideration her sensitive nature."

Catherine started at his insight into his sister's nature. That was supposed to be a secret between her and Emmy.

"I see you are shocked. I have lived with Emmy all her life, I wonder why she thought she could hide her true nature from me. Foolish girl," Richard whispered affectionately. "As to your failure in the marriage mart, that is just because of a lack of strategy—which I intend to fix. In return for tutoring my sister, of course."

Catherine was bewildered. How did she go from wanting to go home earlier that night to contemplating taking flirting lessons from the rakish Duke standing beside her? It seemed like a scene from the dime novels she read in the privacy of her bedroom at night.

She had a boring life, surreal things didn't happen to her.

Well, it seemed they could, and they were happening to her.

"I fail to see why you would be the right instructor for these types of lessons. You are known as a rake around the ton, I wonder what you would know about attracting a proper gentleman," she argued.

She braced herself for his anger because if this was not a direct insult to his character, she didn't know what was. So she was shocked when he let out a chuckle.

"Sweet Cat, I was wondering when you were going to bare your claws," he teased, approaching her with a hot glint in his eyes. "Some people would argue that my reputation makes me the best candidate for an instructor in the art of seduction. If you don't believe me, I will be very much obliged to demonstrate," he murmured, leaning closer to whisper the last word.

She opened her mouth to ask him to step back, but the words were stuck in her throat as she was swamped by his woody scent.

She had always been aware of him at an elemental level, but his sheer magnetism was intimidating at such a close proximity. She was shivering involuntarily in a way that she knew had nothing to do with the cool night air. Her skin felt tight beneath her clothes, and heat pooled low in her belly. It was mortifying, the way her body betrayed her when this man was near.

He maintained eye contact with her and then slowly lowered his face to hers. She was so sure he was going to kiss her, and even with her misgivings, her body still leaned towards his.

She closed her eyes, her breath coming faster than usual. She felt his warm breath on her cheek and then on her left ear. When he took her earlobe between his teeth, she hissed in pleasure.

"Call me Richard," he murmured in that rich baritone that made her knees tremble.

She was so busy trying to catch her breath that she did not fully understand what he said, until he tilted her chin to force her to look at him.

"I think we have outgrown the use of titles, don't you think?"

With that enigmatic utterance, he turned on his heel, leaving her shaking with unquenchable desire.

The Duke of St. George was dangerous, and taking him up on his offer had to be madness because she knew she had been moments away from begging the dratted man to ravish her, whatever that meant. The man made her lose what common sense she prided herself on having. He was dangerous to her equilibrium and reputation.

After what had happened between them, she could not simply see him as her friend's older brother. Their relationship was irrevocably changed now, and she would be a fool to accept his offer. She had a sneaking suspicion that she might end up being the one seduced. She didn't delude herself that she had good self-control.

All the man had to do was smile at her, and her wits would fly out the window. It was unfortunate that she couldn't reject his offer because little Lily's fate depended on her success in the marriage mart.

As much as she hated to admit it, she did not have a chance of finding a respectable match without the Duke's help, as the earlier encounter with Lord Livingston had made clear.

It seemed she had to venture into the lion's den and hope that she wasn't devoured.