Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

" S o, we're sitting at the dining table. It's all terribly awkward with this bedraggled woman, her hair stuck on her face from riding in the rain, shivering at the foot of the table, her hands on a little ragamuffin boy with Lord Morgan's face!"

Seraphina Milbourne, the Duchess of Irondale, just gaped at her friend Rosalind, the Countess of Portswick, completely riveted by the story she was telling. "Then what happened?"

"Well, Lord Morgan, very red faced, his eyes flashing with anger, got to his feet, nodded to the table and asked us to excuse him. He marched to the foot of the table, grabbed the woman by the arm and manhandled her out of the room, the boy tripping along behind. I was so hoping they'd have their confrontation outside the dining room door but no, he took her to his study. We heard the door slam."

"Damn it. It sounds as if it might have been extremely juicy."

"Yes. The woman was clearly sitting on the penniless bench, but her eyes were determined and so was her jaw. I have a feeling she gave as good as she got."

"Did you see her again?" Seraphina asked.

Rosalind took a sip of her port. "No. Not a hide nor hair of her or the boy. I dispatched my maid to learn more at the market this morning, but she didn't return with any news yet. We try again tomorrow."

"How…" Seraphina shook her head, lacking words.

"Yes. You did miss quite an entertaining evening by staying at home." Rosalind tapped Seraphina's arm with her fan.

Seraphina sighed. "Yes well…he did insist on couples and my husband…"

Rosalind gave her a sympathetic look. "Is His Grace still in Irondale? Such a pity that he's so busy."

Seraphina grimaced. She was grateful that her friend kept up the fiction that the only reason Gerard stayed away was that he was busy with work. The truth was that she and Gerard were as good as estranged. She hadn't seen him except for fleeting moments in the last year that they had been married.

It shouldn't bother me. We both agreed it was a marriage of convenience.

She had needed to get out of her father's house, and he needed a bride to fulfill his responsibilities as Duke of Irondale. The irony was that one of those duties was producing an heir. Seraphina was very puzzled as to how he aimed to achieve that when they did not even live in the same house.

"Yes well, you know how extensive his holdings are. He cannot take his eye off them for a moment," she muttered, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Rosalind rubbed her arm consolingly and then her lips spread into a sociable smile. Seraphina looked up to see Lady Stanton approaching. She sighed inwardly. The dowager viscountess had put herself out to be a friend to Seraphina and it was not her fault that Seraphina found her so tiresome.

"Lady Stanton!" she exclaimed with as much energy as she could muster, "how wonderful to see you."

She let the dowager viscountess of Stanton kiss her cheeks in the French manner. Lady Stanton liked to put on airs and graces.

"My dear duchess. I was hoping to see you." She looked around pointedly, "His Grace did not accompany you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Seraphina saw Rosalind wince. She grabbed a glass of wine from a passing waiter and downed it. "No, the duke is not in London," she said with a fake smile of her own.

"Oh? Where is he? Don't tell me he's still ensconced in Irondale?" Peggy gave her an incredulous look. "Surely, he must realize how much he is neglecting you. Men are all the same, I do declare."

Seraphina looked to Rosalind who was simply smiling politely. "Not all men. Lord Portswick is quite the attentive husband." She tapped Rosalind with her fan and gave her a genuinely warm look. "He is a man among men."

Rosalind blushed, hiding her face behind her fan. "Don't be silly. William can be just as infuriating as any other man."

"Infuriating, yes. Inattentive, no."

As if summoned, the man himself appeared. "I saw that your glass was empty my dear. Shall I bring you another or will you dance with me?"

Rosalind's blushes deepened as she giggled at her husband. She gave Seraphina a nod and a wave before allowing the earl to take her hand and lead her to the dance floor.

Seraphina and Peggy watched as William swept his wife around the dance floor, their movements graceful and synchronized.

Seraphina sighed, not wanting to feel jealous of her friend but knowing that there were no circumstances in which Gerard would do the same for her.

Peggy gave her a look. "Don't be jealous my dear," she said much to Seraphina's chagrin, "Not every marriage can be entered into for love. Why you should have seen my late husband—no more decrepit and pitiful man could you find. Were it not for his money there would have been no way for him to secure a bride. You are fortunate that the duke is at least a young personable man…or maybe not. Have you thought perhaps about taking a lover?"

"Lady Stanton!" Seraphina gasped, genuinely shocked that the dowager viscountess would bring up such a thing.

"Oh hush, don't pretend to be shocked. We are amongst friends are we not? I can help you find?—"

"You'll have to excuse me. I need to visit the powder room." Seraphina hurried away as fast as she could go.

She honestly had no idea why Lady Stanton insisted on sticking to her like a burr at every social occasion. They had nothing in common and Seraphina was getting quite tired of her jibes.

Grabbing another glass, she joined another group of married ladies, getting lost in their gossip as she drank more wine than perhaps was wise.

Gerard Milbourne, the Duke of Irondale, was quite tired, having spent the night going through the household accounts. Not only was he tired, but he was also extremely annoyed. He stretched in his chair, taking a pensive look around his study.

Lady Seraphina Pennington had struck him as a quite shy and retiring woman when he met her at last year's marriage mart. She hadn't had much to say for herself and had seemed eager to leave her father's dissolute, unpredictable presence in exchange for some peace and quiet.

Gerard swept his hands through the endless modiste bills, the mountain of food and drink consumed at a myriad of dinner parties, and other bits of entertainment thrown at his residence without his knowledge or permission.

This isn't the woman I married.

He had expected to be able to forget about his duchess once the formalities were completed, not to have this thorn in his side disturbing his peace. That's why he'd made the decision to come to Eldridge House, his townhouse, and find out once and for all what was going on.

When he'd left his wife in London, it was because he had been sure she'd be bored at Irondale, and she had wanted to stay close to her sister.

This is how she repays my kindness?

He heard a bump and shuffle somewhere along the corridor and checked the time.

Four hours past midnight.

The footmen would have already gone to bed, and it was too early for the kitchen staff to be up. It wasn't as if they had cows to milk in the city.

He got up and went to the door. Peering down the darkened corridor he saw a figure bumping against the walls and giggling.

He could not help the smile that spread across his face as he watched her. She was clearly enjoying herself thoroughly, her long brown hair swaying as she bumped from one wall to the other and laughed to herself, tripping over her own feet, her shoes in her hand. She was wearing a straight gown, which blended with the darkness and left nothing but a silhouette for him to see until she came in range of the candlelight.

Then he could see that her gown was a soft brown with gold accents along her low-slung square neckline and short belled sleeves. She wore long golden gloves on her hands that reached almost to the beginning of her upper arms. Her hair seemed to have been held up with a diadem, but it had now escaped its bindings and was a mess of curls framing her head like a halo.

She looked impossibly ethereal in the candlelight, like a creature come from the fairy realm to tempt him to sin. Her blue eyes gleamed as she finally set them on him and she stopped short, gaping and blinking.

The urge to laugh was strong. She looked quite comical swaying from side to side, trying to comprehend him.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Irondale took it's claws out of you?" she said.

Gerard frowned. "What the devil is that supposed to mean?"

"It means…what are you doing here lurking in the dark like an apparition?"

"The last I heard, Eldridge House belongs to me so I can come and go as I please."

"Does it? Does it belong to you ? Because I would have sworn, I've been living here alone for the past year with no interference from you ."

Anger sparked in Gerard's chest, and he took a step towards her. "Yes, you have been living here. And bleeding freely with my money I see." He thrust the invoice he still held in his hand at her feet. "Had I known who I was marrying, I would have kept searching."

Seraphina threw back her head and screamed with laughter. "You think you would have found anyone willing to live in these conditions? I welcome you to try."

"These conditions?" he took a step closer to her, his ire climbing. "Is your every need not provided for? Have I put a ceiling in how much money you can spend? No. That was clearly a mistake."

"Oh, you are such a bore! What was I meant to do with my time as I languished here on my own?"

"Languish? You have to be joking," he huffed in derision. "And forgive me for boring you to death by making sure my business interests were taken care of. We cannot all be social butterflies. Someone has to slave away to earn all the money you spend."

"Did you just call me a butterfly?" she giggled.

He caught hold of her hand and pulled her against him.

"That's not my point! My point is that you shall not disrespect me like that," he snarled into her face.

She lifted her hand and covered his face with it. "Your breath is foul. Have you thought to use tooth powder in the mornings?"

Gerard's anger burst forth and he slapped her hand away. "Do you think your drunken breath smells any sweeter?"

Obnoxiously, she leaned slowly into him and blew a breath into his face.

"I do," she whispered, her mouth so close to him that he could feel her breath ghost on his skin.

Goosebumps rose as he shivered, his mouth falling open involuntarily and he caught his breath, torn between being taken aback and aroused by her actions.

He turned and met her eyes as she straightened up slowly. His gaze dropped to her mouth and then back to her eyes. The temptation to lean in and…taste, it was almost overwhelming.

But Gerard didn't want to give her ideas.

Who does this woman think she is?

Suddenly she heaved, body arching with the force of it. Then, she snatched her hand away from him and ran down the corridor.

Gerard watched her go with bemusement. A moment after she stepped in the powder room, he could hear her retching.

Shaking his head, he turned and walked slowly back to his study.

Whatever conversation needed to be had between them, clearly now was not a good time.