Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

" H is Grace, the Duke of Aldworth!" the steward called. He followed it up with, "The Right Honorable, the Viscount Chiverton."

Theodore and Percival entered the ball together. Theodore, the Duke of Aldworth, wore a tight-fitting dark, navy blue tailcoat and trousers that elongated his form while clinging to his muscular frame. He was reminiscent of the trunk of a massive oak tree, albeit a different color. While he was only slightly above average height, most men instinctually craned their necks and tilted their heads upward when talking with him.

"Can you smell it?" Percival, the Viscount Chiverton, asked.

"Please don't," Theodore warned.

"I can smell it," the Viscount continued, ignoring the tone in his friend's voice. "There are dozens of eligible young women here ripe for the taking."

The Duke's jaw tightened, and there was an imperceptible click as he pushed his teeth together.

"I have already had words with you about this," Theodore stated. "Why must you talk like this?"

"Like what?"

Percival's eyes were wide in mock shock as he and the Duke wandered through the crowds of people. Both men caught the eye but for very different reasons. The Duke's stature and elegance were contrasted by the Viscount's more jittery demeanor and brighter attire—he wore a burgundy tailcoat with a purposely clashing green cravat.

"You know exactly what I am talking about," the Duke told him. "In the private company of gentlemen, you are, well… a gentleman of sorts. You are as much of a gentleman as you are able to be. Yet, when you are let loose amongst the ladies, you become a slobbering dog with a hunger and thirst that cannot be quenched."

"Can you blame me?" Percival asked.

The Duke glanced at his friend before taking two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and handing one to Percival.

"It is not as if you do not have a good time with the ladies also," the Viscount complained.

"Yes, but there is a way to do it," Theodore stated. He thought about it for a moment. "You can trap wasps with vinegar or tempt them with honey. Just because we both like to have fun does not mean you have to be vulgar about it."

"So, I should look out for an eligible woman in a black and yellow striped dress?" the Viscount asked. "That will be challenging, but I will give it my best shot."

It felt like a cold mist was floating around in the Duke's chest. He had some negative emotions competing for precedence, but none shone through like a ray of sunlight.

"I know some of this is getting through, but you are still insufferable at times," the Duke said.

"Yet, I am still your best friend."

The Duke did not mean to speak the truth, but it came out. "You are my friend, only just. I still don't know why I give you the time of day."

"You said it yourself. There are times when I can be perfectly pleasant. Now, if you excuse me, I have some dance cards to fill, and it shall give you a chance to calm down and realize that if you lose me as a friend, you won't have any."

The Duke did not say a word in reply. There was far too much truth in the statement and his own thoughts. Percival was his friend, that much was certain, but he was not his best friend. He did not have a best friend. He had few people close to him except his mother and sister.

Why do I continue to entertain that fool? Because he is fun to be around?

The Duke was in a rotten mood. Percival was usually perfectly fine, but he became lecherous and insatiable when he got anywhere near a lady. He was treacherous in his intent almost all of the time around ladies, but he could be the most charming man in the world when he wanted to be, and it was a dangerous combination. Theodore was one of the few people to see Percival for who he truly was.

Who am I to think like that?

Theodore knew there was a difference. He was a rake and did not deny it, but a man's character was in how he treated a lady, both in their company and behind their back. The Duke was honest with those around him and never spoke unkindly. He was often seen as disrespectful for how he lived his life, but he always treated people with respect.

What do I care what I think? Percival has the right idea. These things are supposed to be fun.

Theodore tapped his bottom lip before taking a large swig of his champagne, draining half the glass. The bubbles in the glass turned to a tingling sensation in his stomach. He pushed his shoulders back and looked casually around the large hall.

I shall have to take a wife eventually, but how can I think about that when there are so many luscious ladies around? Perhaps next Season.

Theodore gave it more consideration.

Or the Season after.

There were many fine women at the ball, but one stood out. Perhaps it was that she stood a little taller than the women around her, instantly drawing the eyes, or the fact that she had a slim profile while still possessing sumptuous curves like a cat reaching up to grab a morsel from a kitchen table. It could have been her hazel eyes that danced and shone like shooting stars from across the room.

No, it is the look you have in your eyes!

The Duke relished a challenge, and he moved in her direction immediately. It would be impossible to describe the woman's eyes as anything but beautiful, but that was not the most beguiling thing about them. She looked around the room as if she was guarding something precious, and someone might try and steal it from her at a moment's notice. Something in her look gave her a wisdom beyond her years, and she had taken that wisdom and surrounded herself in a safe cocoon.

Theodore smiled. He slowed his walk a little, keeping his eye fixed on the only woman in the room who had caught his full attention since he had entered. He hoped that wherever Percival was, he was not being too coarse.

"Good evening," Theodore said to the mystery woman. "Allow me to introduce myself."

"No introductions necessary," the woman replied. "I know exactly who you are."

The statement came across as accusatory, but when she looked him in the eyes, there was no ill intent contained within.

"I mean introductions are not necessary on your part, Your Grace," the woman said, holding up a hand. "I apologize. That was rude of me. I should have allowed you to speak, and I didn't. I only meant that I know you, Your Grace, and I did not want to waste your time."

The Duke became more amused and interested as she spoke. "No, we would not want to waste any time. Should I know your name, or will that also be a waste of time?"

She seemed unaffected by his teasing and continued as if the conversation was a perfectly normal one.

"Your Grace, I am Lady Christine Wilkinson, the daughter of the Earl of Woodmore. Allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Irene Wilkinson."

Theodore had not noticed the other woman until she had been mentioned, and now that she was, she still blended into the background even though she stood in front of her older sister.

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," Theodore said.

"Thank you, Your Grace. We appreciate that," Christine said, speaking for the two of them. "I believe my sister's dance card still has some spots. She debuted recently and has been taking dance lessons for months. I am sure you will find her a pleasurable partner."

Theodore chuckled. He had been drawn to this woman, and the more she spoke, the more amused he became with her officious nature. He was not a man who was told what to do, but she had not told him what to do. She had simply made an assumption, and much like a ship on the waves with no sail raised, he allowed himself to be swept up by her current.

Yet, he was still a man who got what he wanted.

"I shall take the next dance," Theodore said.

"Should I check my card?" Irene asked her sister.

"That will not be necessary," Christine replied. "I know exactly which dances you have names penciled in. The waltz is next, and…" Christine glanced up at Theodore.

"Is there a problem?" Theodore asked.

Christine bit her bottom lip, obviously unaware that she was doing so. "No, of course, there is not a problem. I was merely thinking out loud, Your Grace."

Christine's eyes still flickered between her sister and Theodore, and Theodore could finally decipher one of her mysteries. Christine was protective of her younger sister and was hesitant to have her sister dance with him.

You know what a rake I am, don't you? Beautiful, protective, and intelligent. That is a dangerous combination for a woman, but there is no danger I am not willing to face.

If she had come out and said that, he might have a conversation about it. It did not matter which woman he danced with though he did find he wanted to dance with the elder sister to see how she would react. Christine tried to hide behind her propriety, and it pushed Theodore to see how much he could push her.

He was bound to politeness and respect, but boundaries were there to be pushed and prodded.

"Have you finished thinking out loud?" Theodore asked.

He knew there was no chance she would deny him the dance now he had claimed it.

"My sister will be happy to dance with you," Christine said.

"Does she know that?" Theodore asked.

There was a small crack in Christine's outer shell, and she opened her mouth to speak but could not say anything.

Theodore found her flummoxing to be exciting, and he wondered what else he could do to provoke such a response. She was different from other eligible women at the ball. He was sure she was eligible, but instead of looking for a handsome gent to dance with her, she arranged for him to dance with her sister.

His heart suddenly felt tepid. It was only for a moment, but he knew she had stepped into her mother's shoes.

"I know I shall be dancing with you." Irene's voice sounded like pale grey earth under a rainbow. Her lips were drawn into a smile, but the words that came out blended into the background, just like she did.

"Then let us dance," Theodore said, locking eyes with Christine. "I see some couples going to the dance floor."

Theodore held out his arm.

Irene took it with a wide smile, her mouth straining. She looked around the hall as Theodore led her to the center of the floor and pulled on her arm to bring her body to his. He looked over Irene's shoulder, finding her sister's eyes fixed on them.

When he looked down at his dance partner, she looked up at him with wide eyes and a slightly open mouth.

He was not interested in her, but it still stoked the fire of his ego. It was always most welcome to have a woman look at him in such a way. She stared at him in silence, her eyes tracing his face.

When he arrived with Percival, Theodore had observed the lords and other gentlemen. There was no denying that Theodore was the most handsome man in the building. He had some ego, but it was not all-consuming. He only dealt with the truth.

"You will dance with many fine gentlemen tonight," Theodore told his partner as the musicians warmed up. "Let this be a practice for you before you dance with a potential suitor."

Theodore hoped to make it clear that he was not a potential suitor when it was clear she was smitten with him. It was not that she was not a fine woman, but she was not his type, and he had not arrived at the ball to find a wife, only to accompany his friend who had dragged him there.

Irene continued looking up at Theodore with a wide grin, and Theodore wondered if she would say another word.

The music started, and Theodore caught Christine's eyes again. She did not look away as he stared at her and smiled at her gall.

Are you staring at me or your sister?

Theodore spun his partner, moving her quickly in time with the measured waltz. There was a blur of arms, legs, black tailcoats, and pastel dresses around them, but he could still pick out the mysterious and proper woman on the edge of the dance floor.

Shall we give you something to really stare at?

Theodore turned his partner in a circle and pulled her in tighter. Irene gasped—she either enjoyed being so close to a man or did not have the confidence to say anything.

Theodore did not know what his partner was thinking. He only had eyes for her sister and the look she was trying to keep from her face.