Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

D uring their brief encounter in the supper room he hadn't had enough time to make a thorough study of Lady Victoria Kembal, but as he walked arm in arm with her into the elegant dining room Robert glanced over at his secret nemesis. His gaze drifted down, and he suddenly recalled seeing those magnificent breasts and the delightful way they had filled the bodice of her gown. They were on display again tonight.

Heavens that's an inviting pair of full breasts. I wonder what sound she would make if I gently mouthed them.

Would she moan? Or softly sigh? Or would she be the kind of woman who hadn't a clue about her sexual needs, a female who required a long and thorough education in the art of seduction and desire. Whatever her needs, he'd be more than happy to oblige.

"I understand you are known as the Duke of Spice. Why is that?" she asked.

His gaze lifted from staring at the delicious mounds bobbing up and down, and straight into a pair of perfect blue eyes. When she blinked, he felt himself start to go hard.

Robert cleared his throat. "It's because I come from the town of Saffron. We grow crocus plants, which when they flower provide the stem for the saffron spice. It's a spice…"

"Yes, I know what saffron is," she snapped, cutting him off.

Feisty little thing. I bet she would be a screamer if I had her under me. She'd be clawing at my back as she climaxed.

They reached the doorway of the dining room, and a footman motioned for them to follow the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray. Robert ignored him and guided his dinner companion to the other end of the long oak table. When Victoria shot a look in the direction of her parents, he leaned in and murmured, "You don't want to spend the whole evening with Mama and Papa while they make doe eyes at one another, now do you?"

With his prey out of earshot of her family, he would be free to indulge in a spot of teasing. And if his plans went as well as he hoped, he would have put her firmly in her place by the end of the third course. Then he could spend the rest of the evening thoroughly ignoring her, forgetting she ever existed.

Though those fantastic tits might not be so easy for me to forget.

He'd already figured that tonight was important for her mother, and the duchess would be horrified if her daughter made a scene. Lady Victoria's gaze flittered to the guests around her, and Robert quietly guessed what she must be thinking. There were close to thirty guests seated at the table—there would be people all around her for the duration of the meal. What harm could possibly befall her?

"If you are happy to indulge a young lady for this evening, then yes we could sit here," replied Victoria. He caught the hesitation in her voice and quietly chided himself.

Let's not take this too far. As long as she knows I'm onto her, and that I'm prepared to fight, this needn't come to an all-out public war.

He waited while Lady Victoria took her seat, then sat beside her. Picking up a nearby bottle of champagne, he poured a long drink into her glass, then handed it to her. The smile he offered to Lady Victoria Kembal said it all.

Welcome to my web, little spider.

She was trapped. Her plans for an evening spent showing some of the most influential matrons of the haut ton that she was a young woman who took life seriously and was ready for marriage had been stolen away by the Duke of Spice. Victoria glanced down the table to where her parents sat, sending out a silent plea for help. She caught her mother's eye, but the duchess simply smiled at her, then turned away to resume the conversation she was having with this evening's hostess.

Victoria swallowed down a lump of dread. When Lady Anne had said she was to show society just how sophisticated she was, she'd assumed it would be under her mother's watchful eye. Ten place settings away on the other side of the table did not meet that criterion.

"Is there something wrong, Lady Victoria?"

Screwing her courage to the sticking place, she turned and gave the duke a confident smile. "No, absolutely nothing. Now you were telling me about the spices you grow on your estate, please do go on."

He'd give Lady Victoria her dues, she had a spine. Robert caught the challenge in her words. If she thought to take him on at his own game, she was making a grave mistake. Then again, this was the same woman who thought so highly of herself that she had written to the newspaper and demanded his dismissal. He couldn't wait to see her fall flat on her face.

"Yes, we grow saffron amongst other herbs and spices. They are then harvested and sold at the Cambridge and London markets. But I'm sure a young lady such as yourself wouldn't be interested in the mundane matters of crops and food."

Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. She raised it to her lips and took a long sip, before setting it down once more. "I can assure you I am most intrigued by your husbandry efforts. What sort of price do you fetch per ounce for the saffron? I hear it is an expensive spice. As I enjoy it in various curries, risottos, and stews, I've always been interested to know just how much it costs."

Curries and risottos? He hadn't ever heard of a young noblewoman who knew what those were, let alone ate them.

He paused for a moment, unsure of how he should answer her question. The market rates were something he carried around in his head, but much of his current cash flow was due to the spices he had liberated from the hands of the East India Company. Apart from the cost of his men and the bribes which he regularly handed over, those goods were effectively cost free.

If he didn't watch his words, he might say something he later came to regret.

"A gentleman never talks monetary matters with a lady, especially not at a private party. Let's just say money and fair words, Lady Victoria."

Patronizing swine. Victoria was about to take the duke to task over his manners when a bowl of soup appeared at her right shoulder. She sat back as a footman placed it in front of her, gritting her teeth as she took in the tasteless glop that was the infamous ‘white soup'. This was one dish she had made her life's ambition to avoid at all costs.

"This looks delicious," observed the duke.

The moment everyone's bowl had arrived, her dinner companion had tucked into his soup. Victoria sat spoon in hand and watched him as he ate.

Her mother had said he was a bachelor. Taking in the specks of gray in his hair, she pondered his age. How old was he, forty?

What had Matthew said about Robert Tolley? Older than Gideon by several years, so that would make him closer to thirty. Perhaps even older. And why wasn't he already married? It was rare for a nobleman to escape the clutches of wedded bliss, what with the need for an heir or two to be sired and the bloodline secured.

Maybe he was married, and he patronized and bored his poor wife to death.

She set down her spoon. The hostess of this evening was at the other end of the table. She would never know that Victoria hadn't touched her soup.

"Don't you like white soup?" he enquired.

Victoria pushed the bowl slightly away and to one side. The footman standing a few feet behind the table moved forward and collected it. She gave him a polite, "Thank you."

To the duke, she simply said, "I'm not particularly hungry, so it makes sense to keep my appetite for the main courses."

The guest on the opposite side of the table from her glanced down the table at this evening's hostess, then whispered, "If it's not good enough for Lady Victoria, then I am not eating it either."

Her concern at this remark quickly turned to one of abject horror as the other soup declining guest turned to the person seated next to them and remarked, "Lady Victoria Kembal is known to have a perfect palate. She is the one whom we all look to for guidance in the supper room at parties." They offered her an encouraging smile. "We missed you all those long months while you were in the country."

Her blood ran to ice. This was not the reputation she wanted to cultivate in polite society. That of being a food snob. If she didn't put a stop to this and quick smart, she'd never be invited to dine at any private homes ever again. And her chances of landing a suitable husband would be as cold as the soup which had just left the table.

Victoria reached for a small bread roll and the butter, her hopes for the evening rapidly sinking as the rest of the guests seated around her followed suit and abandoned their bowls of soup.

The duke turned to her. "Does the soup not meet with your high expectations, Lady Victoria?"