Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

“Who is he?” Celia hissed as she followed Violet and Grace outside.

They hung at the back of a group who had been summoned to the gardens, ready for a rather exuberant tour of the plants led by Lady Arundel. Celia glanced about the gardens nervously, wondering when the Duke of Hardbridge was going to make an appearance.

“You have heard nothing of him?” Grace asked, clearly finding the idea amusing. “How strange. I heard Lady Arundel talk of little else but the eligible Duke of Hardbridge last night. I suspect she intends to marry off one of the young ladies here.”

Good. At least she will not bother trying to marry me off then, for I am quite the spinster these days.

“What did she say about him?” Celia couldn’t help but ask as she raced to catch up with the others in the garden.

Violet’s smile caught her eye, but Celia looked away fast.

“You’re curious about him?” Violet asked.

“As a person is curious about a passing fly, perhaps,” Celia said dismissively. “So? What did she say?”

Neither Violet nor Grace looked convinced by her words, but they answered her question all the same.

“He is Scottish,” Grace began.

“He was a Scottish laird,” Violet cut in.

That explains the slight accent.

“Wait… a laird?” Celia said in amazement.

“He’s a trained warrior,” Grace added, with no small degree of fear in her voice.

And that explains the strong shoulders and arms.

Celia had to bite her lip not to let those words slip out.

“Lady Arundel said he has just inherited the dukedom from his uncle,” Violet continued.

“He’s returned to England with his mother, and his younger brother has taken the lairdship in Scotland,” Grace added.

“He has a reputation for being rather⁠—”

“Brutish.”

“Violent.”

“A man not to be trusted. A leader who will say one thing and do the next.”

“Not so much man as beast,” Violet said with a shiver.

Celia looked between the pair of them in surprise. It seemed they had been fascinated by the tales that Lady Arundel had told them the night before.

“No man is pure beast,” Celia huffed. “Though who said it would be a bad thing if they were?”

Her jest made the two of them laugh, though she could not laugh with them.

She was well aware that it was a lie. She could well believe that a man could be a pure beast. Was that the man who had driven her poor cousin Charlotte to her death a beast?

She shrugged off the thought. Charlotte’s sorry end plagued her life enough as it was. Frequently, she had to shut down the thoughts just to be able to carry on.

She busied herself by looking away across the garden, for the Duke of Hardbridge had now arrived. He was walking straight toward her, his expression unmistakable. He was here for a reason, and that reason was to talk to her.

“He’s coming this way,” Violet hissed. “Grace, shall we⁠—”

“Find a reason to catch up with our husbands? What a great idea!” Grace took her arm, and the pair of them hurried off after the rest of the group now following Lady Arundel.

Celia didn’t follow. Unabashedly, she met the gaze of the Duke of Hardbridge as he walked toward her, taking in everything she had been unable to see in the darkness the night before.

He was as tall as she had thought him to be, his broad shoulders straining against his loose frock coat, which hung down to his knees. He hadn’t bothered with a tailcoat; the cravat around his neck was loose, revealing a flash of tanned skin beneath, and his waistcoat was a rather tight fit, accentuating his narrow waist.

“Good God, what is wrong with me?” Celia muttered to herself, finding she was thinking rather a lot about a painting she had once seen in her friend’s studio.

The painting was of Mars, the Roman God of War. That God was hardly dissimilar to the man before her.

His dark hair curled madly around his ears, and his strong jawline was emphasized by black stubble. Unlike many men here, he wasn’t clean-shaven, but altogether wilder in appearance.

I have never been tempted before. Not once.

Despite all her flirtations, she had actually never acted on any thought of transgressing. What had happened all those years ago had stifled any true desire.

The Duke of Hardbridge, though, seemed to be awakening a flame she had long since put out.

“Well, at least ye didn’t run away,” he said as he reached her side.

He barely halted in acknowledgment of her, but walked on, just expecting her to fall into step beside him.

Determined not to be the obedient lady he had expected her to be, she turned and trailed far behind the touring group, pretending to be a part of their tour, yet far enough back so she couldn’t hear what was being said. Evidently, this displeased the Duke of Hardbridge. When she raised her eyebrows at him, showing she had no intention of following him like a pup, he moved to walk alongside her instead.

“I have already thanked you for last night,” she whispered.

“Barely, but ye did, aye.”

“Then what do you want from me in return?”

“Ye’re a matchmaker,” he mused.

“I was.” She almost tripped in surprise. This was not where she had expected their conversation to go. “I have taken considerable pride in matching up my sister and our friends with dukes.”

He abruptly stopped walking. Just a step in front of him, she turned back, finding she had to constantly crane her neck to look at his face.

“I’m a duke,” he said in that deep baritone that had attracted her the night before, even without being able to see him.

She tried not to fidget at that sound, for it was calling her toward him again, rather like the song of sirens that had enticed Grecian sailors onto the rocks.

“So you are, but I have no friends left to offer you,” she said with an exaggerated smile. “And something tells me that you would not be content with the one unmarried woman left.”

She held up her left hand and waved it comically.

When he raised both eyebrows at her, dismissively, she laughed. “Have no fear. I would not want to marry you either.”

She dropped her hand and turned her back on him, walking on.

A brief image of the lady he would marry flashed through her mind. That woman would be tangled in bedsheets with him someday. She would be the one to feel those strong arms braced above her. Maybe she would hold on to his shoulders, run her fingers down those biceps…

Enough!

She had to bark at her mind to stop such thoughts.

“I have no need of a bold wife,” he hissed under his breath, suddenly back at her side.

Clearly, he had no intention of slowing down for her, but she was able to keep pace with him thanks to her long legs.

“No man claims to want a spirited wife.” She looked around the garden. “Typical. Every man wants an obedient one.”

It was what she had seen, time and time again in her life. So many men clicked their fingers and just expected their wives to fall in line.

Though there were some couples that had recently challenged such a thought in her. Xander and Violet certainly didn’t fit this mold. Yet, she didn’t doubt that most men commanded their wives and expected silent acceptance in return.

“Let me come to the crux of this matter.”

“Please do,” she urged.

“Find me a wife by the end of the month, or everyone will hear of yer little swim last night.”

She stumbled in alarm. When his hand came up, taking hold of her arm to steady her, she had to yank her arm back fast.

She wasn’t sure exactly why she backed up so quickly. Maybe the fear of being seen with his hand on her, the anger at his blackmail, or the disbelief that she had liked that touch. Either way, she nearly raised her hand and slapped him across the face.

Rather than looking afraid when he saw her hand twitching, he looked amused. He actually chuckled. It was the first time she had seen him laugh as she lowered her hand before anyone in the group ahead could see what she had nearly done.

“You barbarian,” she snapped at him, trying to keep her voice low so no one else heard her. “You would actually threaten me?”

“Do you see a man of honor before ye?” His lips lifted into a smirk. Irritatingly, it made him look even more handsome than before. “There is no such illusion. I am no man of honor. I do not always do what’s right.” He took a small step toward her. “I do what’s necessary.”

“And blackmail is necessary, is it?” she hissed at him, well aware that they were probably standing too close to one another now.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Violet waving madly at her. Slowly, Celia stepped back before Lady Arundel could see the two of them so near one another.

“It is. I expect you in my room tonight so we can discuss the details of your mission.”