Chapter 3

Mary was woefully irate. It seemed nothing was going her way today.

First, there was the incident with that awful man on the road. On the way back home, Eloise tripped and fell in a muddy puddle, and cried the rest of the way back to the house. Then, after her second bath of the day, the bonnet she had planned to wear for Katie's garden party had gone missing. It turned out she had left it in the garden after the girls' last picnic.

Mary was glad Katie had been able to have her birthday party, regardless. She could only hope that the Duke of Livingston had made it back in time. She had half a mind to write to such a man who would neglect his own child.

"Katie!" Eloise called as she raced over to her best friend.

Mary did not pay them any mind, knowing Eloise was safe with Katie around so many adults. She made her way over to the two couples who sat at a table on the large terrace. She knew them from a charity ball that members of the ton hosted annually, as she had attended enough times to recognize some faces.

Guests crowded the garden, more guests than Mary had assumed would be present for the affair. She wove her way through the bodies to join the two couples. The women both wore similar dresses of pale blue and a faded, buttery yellow, while their husbands looked smart in their matching coats. Mary felt a stab of envy at the sight.

Lady Johnson, the woman in the blue dress, passed her a cup and gestured for a footman to fill it. "Lady Yore's cup should not be empty for the rest of the afternoon," she instructed, with a smile at Mary. "It seems she has had quite a day."

"Ah." Mary grimaced. "It is that obvious, my lady?"

"Oh, but of course," said the woman in the yellow dress. Lady Halton nodded. "Your eyes say it all, dear."

Mary winced and pressed her hands to her eyes, knowing she had dark circles beneath them that not even her maid could cover up. "Yes, well, it has been quite a morning. I am so sorry to be late! A rather insufferable cretin almost killed Eloise and me this morning while we were picking flowers!"

"No!" Lady Johnson gasped.

Mary nodded. "Quite! All poor Eloise wanted to do was make a wreath for her friend. The next moment, there he was, on a ghastly beast of a horse, with no care for our well-being whatsoever."

"Awful." Lord Johnson tutted, shaking his head.

"I do hope he apologized," Lord Halton said.

"He did, but it was rather insincere, I fear."

"They let anybody traverse these paths nowadays," Lady Johnson muttered, shaking her head. "I do wonder who it could be. One would think not a gentleman, due to his behavior, but if he had such a horse, then…"

"It was rather big." Mary nodded. "And he was rather decent in his looks. He looked travel-worn but proper, still."

"Lord Wimphrey has been traveling lately," Lord Halton mused. "He was at the gentlemen's club today after just arriving in London. Could it have been him?"

"Perhaps Lord Basil otherwise?" Lord Johnson suggested. "He and his wife returned from their trip to France just this morning."

The two of them debated who the stranger might be, and Mary listened attentively, keeping up with the names she knew from the gossip columns. Despite having been absent from Society for quite some time, she had kept up with the latest goings-on by reading the gossip columns. Her sister, Anne, also kept her updated in her letters, ever the gossip.

"Say, where did the accident take place, my lady?" Lord Johnson asked.

"Not too far from here, my lord," Mary told him. "There is a grand field full of wildflowers. That is where we collected the flowers for the wreath."

She glanced at Eloise, who was across the garden, handing Katie the wreath she had made for her. Katie put it on her head, then spun around with it and hugged her friend. Mary smiled.

"His Grace returned today for Lady Katie's birthday," Lady Halton said. "I wonder if he saw anyone on his way back. Your Grace! Your Grace, oh, you must join us for a moment."

At the mention of the duke, Mary felt a spark of excitement. She would have quite a lot to say to this despicable man who left his daughter waiting for him for weeks and weeks. This neglectful, awful man who…

Who had knocked her over with his horse that morning.

Mary tried to cover up her shock as the two couples greeted the Duke of Livingston, but she could only stare at the very man who had called her beautiful and insolent. The man to whom she had spoken so poorly. The man whom she had thought she would not see again and had vocally expressed her hope not to as well.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as the duke came to sit with them. His eyes found hers, and he smiled. It was not arrogant nor like the smirk he had given her hours ago. He looked… kind. Charming.

He took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

"My lady," he greeted. "I am Dominique Wallace, the Duke of Livingston. I hear our daughters are best friends. It is wonderful to meet the woman who mothers such a lovely, polite, young girl."

Mary blinked at him, at a loss for words. "Thank you, Your Grace. It is… quite lovely to meet you, too. Your home is beautiful."

It is a shame you do not stay in it a lot to look after your daughter.

"Your Grace, Mary was just telling us about this ghastly man who almost killed her with his horse near your home this morning! I do not suppose you saw any lone riders on your journey?"

"Yes, I think you called this man a rather insufferable cretin, did you not, Lady Yore?" Lord Johnson asked.

Heavens above.

Shame made her want to curl up right there on the ground.

The duke's smile widened. "Oh, did you? He sounds absolutely awful."

"That is what we all said!" Lord Halton chimed in. "He must be called out immediately, do you not think? Attacking a poor woman and her daughter like that!"

"I imagine his own pride must have taken quite a hit upon knowing what he had caused," the duke said.

Mary only stared at him. It was him, was it not? Her eyes were not deceiving her.

"I do hope you gave him a good dressing down, Lady Yore."

"Oh, she did!" Lady Johnson giggled. "Lady Yore is feisty, indeed. She can hold her ground, Your Grace."

"I see," the duke drawled, propping his chin on his fist, his eyes fixed on Mary. She blushed profusely. "Well, I apologize on behalf of this man. He shames the rest of us men. Do you not agree, Lord Johnson?"

"Indeed, I do, Your Grace."

Mary slumped in her seat, picking at her white gloves. The Duke of Livingston did not seem the sort of man who would neglect his daughter, but he also acted as though it was not him who had almost trampled her that morning. She had spoken in such a haughty way to a duke! The man who owned a castle! Who was kind enough to let her stay in his home after she had called him a cretin.

Suddenly, overwhelmed by shame and audacity, she stood up. Her chair scraped noisily across the wooden slats of the terrace. Five pairs of eyes turned to look at her. She avoided the duke's knowing smile.

"Does something require your attention, Lady Yore?" he asked, cocking his head. "It seems our daughters get on excellently. I would love for us to do the same."

The two couples both cooed at that, and Mary took a step back. The way he was being so charismatic in front of these people! She disliked it. She did not trust him.

"I-I think I hear Eloise calling for me."

Eloise was not, but Mary hurried as far away from the table as possible.

She walked around the hedge maze, trying to suppress her burning shame, and then returned to the party. She immediately scanned the crowd for the duke. She spotted him talking with some other gentlemen, but when nobody looked at him, she noticed the boredom on his face. It immediately turned into polite interest the second eyes landed on him.

So, this man has many masks.

His eyes found hers across the garden.

"What a pity that such a beautiful woman could be so insolent."

His words echoed in her mind, and she turned her back to him as she mingled with other guests. Throughout the afternoon, she kept doing that every time she found herself near to where he was. She avoided him as much as she could, hiding behind statues, turning to take a drink from a passing footman, and conveniently finding herself talking to someone.

Her loneliness lifted off her shoulders today like a shawl slipping off.

She was admiring the lanterns that were hanging in a creative way around the terrace, while the Duke of Livingston was inside the castle—she had watched his movements to know how to avoid him—to tend to an upcoming harp performance. She lingered by a group of women, all of them peering around as if searching for something in particular. Gossip was rife when he left the garden for a while, and Mary could not help but be intrigued.

"I heard poor Katie was very upset this morning," a lady whispered.

"I imagine so! It is not right for a father to leave his child for so long, unattended, as he does with her," one of her companions answered.

"Well, it's no wonder he runs," the first lady replied. "If the ghost of my first husband haunted me in my home, I would be running out of the door, too!"

They laughed together, giggling behind their hands. One of them glanced at Mary.

"How do you know His Grace?" one of them asked. "From London, perhaps? Were you one of the late Duchess of Livingston's friends? You are brave to come here, if so."

"Our daughters are best friends," Mary answered. "I live in the dower house down the road. Why would I be brave to come here?"

The ladies hesitated until one of them laughed falsely. "Oh! Only that the duke has certain… stories that follow him around. Stories that he was not a kind man to the late duchess."

Mary bit back a laugh. She had also thought the man arrogant. Perhaps he had treated his wife as his possession, owning her, controlling her. It only made her dislike him even more. But she had disgraced herself enough by being insolent toward the duke. Going behind his back now felt even more uncouth somehow.

"I will be sure to keep my distance, then," she said dismissively.

She did not care for rumors and stories. She had been the subject of gossip because of her late husband. Who was she to gossip about others?

"Mama!" Eloise's call reached her ears, cutting through the constant chatter around her. "You must come with me! I have a problem!"

"Whatever is it, darling?" Mary asked, laughing as Eloise tugged on her hand, pulling her toward the castle.

"It is—it is with… um, Katie's harp! Yes! That's it. My problem is with Katie's harp."

Mary laughed, wondering what her daughter was up to, but not having a clue what was going on. Regardless, she allowed Eloise to lead her inside. However, Eloise did not simply pull her inside the main sunroom that led out to the garden. No, she guided her deeper into the house.

"Eloise," Mary whispered. "It is improper to wander around His Grace's home like this! Eloise!"

"No, we are allowed to be here! Katie said so. Please, Mama, this is very important for her birthday."

Mary was helpless against her daughter's pleas and did not protest as she was led down a brightly lit hallway, with a plush red runner down the middle of the stone floor. Portraits lined the walls, and intermittently placed busts of previous dukes stared her down.

Too many eyes were on her. She held her breath. She had not felt watched in a very long time.

Not since…

Not since her husband…

Eloise stopped abruptly before a dark mahogany door, interrupting her thoughts. "Here we are! Katie is in there," she said.

Mary laughed. "All right, then. We shall not keep her waiting on her birthday. Shall we?" she exclaimed, going along with the excitement. She wondered if it had to do with this performance the guests had whispered about.

I hope her harp is not broken, or else it would make Katie terribly sad.

Pushing open the door, Mary felt pressure on her back and realized she had been shoved through the doorway. She stumbled forward, only to hear the sound of the door closing behind her, and giggles erupting behind the wood. She turned and banged on it, trying the handle, but the devious, little girls on the other side had locked it. Whatever could they be?—

"Lady Yore?"

It was like that morning all over again, and Mary went rigid at the sound of that velvety voice. When she could not see his face–and it was just the two of them–he sounded much different. She was not sure which version of him was the one she could trust.

"Whatever are you doing in my study?"

Mary whirled around, her eyes wide, as she came face-to-face with the Duke of Livingston once again. "I… Eloise… She brought me here. She said Katie needed assistance."

Dominique let out a bark of laughter.

"How peculiar," he said, framed by the low afternoon light filtering through the large window behind his desk. He pushed his chair back and stood up, then braced his hands on the surface as he looked at her. "I was told Katie needed assistance, too. As her father, I, of course, wasted no time in coming to her aid."

Mary could not hold back a scoff.

"Do you have something to say, my lady?" He cocked his head. "I should think we might attempt to be civil to one another, given that our daughters are friends, should we not?"

"Yes, Your Grace," she agreed, thinking only of her daughter and trying to put aside her own pride.

"Then shall I call you my friend, my lady?" he teased, smiling broadly as if it were a game.

She met his eyes. "You may not, Your Grace."

"Of course." Dominique nodded. "What was it you said? That I was intolerable and you were glad that we were strangers?"

"And you hoped to never meet me again," Mary countered.

Dominique gave her a crooked smile. His eyes were an alluring vivid hazel, and she had to blink so as not to lose herself in them. And then she questioned why she was losing herself in them.

Do not be a fool, Mary. He is nothing more than a handsome face.

"Well, I must admit, I thought you were here to apologize for your earlier behavior," he told her.

"Excuse me? I have nothing to apologize for!"

"Oh, I believe you do. And talking badly about me to my own guests? Poor, poor decorum, my lady."

"I did not know you were the intolerable man I met this morning."

"And if you had?" His lips curled. "I do not think a woman so brazen as yourself would have suppressed her anger either way."

"Your Grace?—"

"Because, otherwise, you would not be arguing with me now. Let's not force politeness, shall we?"

Her hands balled into fists, and she hid them behind her back. This man's presence filled her senses. He was broad, his shoulders wide and his neck muscled, hinting at the sort of physique he had underneath his clothes.

She shook away the thought.

"What was it you wished to say about my assisting my daughter?"

He rounded his desk, and Mary took a step back, only to find the door at her back. She steeled herself, lifted her chin, and reminded herself that she had been through too much to be intimated and lose her voice.

"You should be apologizing to me for this morning," she insisted. "And you are the one to talk about rushing to assist your daughter when she has needed your assistance for the weeks you were absent from her life. What about being there for her then, Your Grace?"

He stalked toward her, something burning angrily in his eyes.

Suddenly, the study was too small, and she felt like prey.

He let out a dark, rumbling laugh. "Oh, Lady Yore!" He said her name like it was a joke and she was the butt of it. "This insolent, entitled mouth of yours will land you in trouble one day."

Mary shook her head, pressing her lips together before she spoke, "Do not mistake me for a weak woman, Your Grace. I have lived through hell. I cannot be fazed by a man who neglects his daughter and rides on power trips of intimidation."

"Is that so? You have lived through hell?"

He drew closer until he was standing before her, staring her down. Mary refused to back down from his gaze. Once upon a time, she would have lowered her eyes to the floor submissively, but not now.

Weakness had almost cost her dearly. Her life. Her sister's life. She had fought to raise Eloise independently despite it being unheard of for a woman of the ton. But she had left that life behind these past four years. An arrogant man like the Duke of Livingston, intimidating, neglectful and challenging, would not undo all her hard work.

He leaned in closer, his hands braced at either side of her head, but he did not touch her. Mary could smell the masculine scent coming off him and fought the urge to close her eyes as she breathed in deeply. Her heart pounded. She had never thought of a man in that way since Patrick's death. And now her whole body was alight, her breathing shallow, and her breasts straining against her corset.

Breathe.

His sheer closeness threatened to unravel her. What was it about this man that had her so weak already? He was insolent. He was awful.

And charming. And handsome. And his voice when he spoke her name…

It snuck through every defense she had built around herself.

His breath fanned the side of her neck, and she shivered involuntarily.

She expected anger for pointing out his poor parenting. She expected more taunts.However, Dominique leaned further in, and she tensed up, anticipating his touch. His lips were so close to the shell of her ear that she swore she could feel them, but she knew she truly did not.

"I would like to propose a truce, my lady."

She barely heard him, so lost was she in his sultry voice.

Still, she nodded, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Our daughters are best friends, and we should at least be civil to each other." His low laugh rumbled through his chest. Mary fought the urge to arch into him. "Do you think we can manage that… together?"

Mary bit her tongue, holding back a whimper as he raised a finger as if to run it down her cheek, but he closed his fist, restraining himself, letting her know how close he came to teasing her with a touch.

Heavens above, she was dizzy. The room grew hotter and smaller.

Dominique gave her a devastating smile. "Do you agree?"

"I agree," she breathed.

"Good."

He leaned in closer.

A knock interrupted them, echoing near Mary's head. She jumped, pulling away from the door, and landing right in the arms of the duke.

"Enter," he called.

She fixed her surprised gaze on him, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere else to go as he pulled back from the door.

The housekeeper was in the doorway.

"Yes, Geraldine?" Dominique asked, that velvety voice turning clipped and frustrated.

Geraldine, an older lady with graying hair and a faded dark gray dress, eyed the duke and then Mary. "Your Grace… Lady Katie is ready to play the harp for her guests."

"Of course," he said. "We shall be right there."

Geraldine closed the door before walking away.

Mary's face burned with shame. Her sister had caused a few public scandals with her own actions, and she had gushed about them in her letters. Mary had been scandalized by Anne's boldness, and now she was ashamed that Dominique's housekeeper would assume she had caught them in a scandalous situation.

Dominique gazed at her. "How does it feel to be the object of my desire?"

"Excuse me?"

"That is what the staff will be saying before Katie's performance ends."

"I suppose you planned that, didn't you?" she accused.

Dominique laughed, that sultry tone returning. "Not this time. And yet…"

Then he leaned in once again, and this time, she did feel the brush of his lips against her skin. She bit her lip. How long had it been since a man truly held her so brazenly?

"When I desire you, my lady, you will not be left wondering about my intentions,for something I am very sure about is when I aim to pleasure a woman."

Mary's face flushed, and she pushed against him, but he pushed her back against the door, his hands coming down on either side of her again, so very close to her chest this time. Despite his forwardness, she did not want to push him away.

"So, do we have a truce? For our daughters' sakes?"

Mary bit her lip, and his eyes followed the movement. "Yes," she breathed. "We have a truce."

"I think you will find that once you… open up to me…" His hands slid closer to her waist, almost touching her again but not quite. The words—the meaning—burned through her core in a way no man's words ever had. "I am quite agreeable to be around."

"We shall see," she answered, but she sounded breathless and shaken.

The duke gave her a crooked smile before he pulled away, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Then he moved around her and opened the door to his study, leaving her standing there, wondering what had just happened.