Chapter Five
Sophie stood at the balustrade overlooking the Earl of Chiffley’s grand ballroom below and smiled. No matter how many times she saw the dancers waltzing around the room in harmony with the orchestra, it always reminded her of a beautiful shimmering rainbow. The women were all adorned in resplendent gowns of silk and taffeta, while the gentlemen looked dignified and gallant in their black evening regalia. There was a touch of magic about it all, and even though most at the assembly wore bored expressions on their faces, Sophie couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement over all of the possibilities abounding in the air.
The laughter of many rang out in between the strands of music, as countless were delighting in sampling the champagne on offer. Yes, plenty of delightful possibilities, indeed. In fact, it was the perfect night to obtain some generous promises to contribute to the orphanage, from those who were in a relaxed frame of mind and thus more inclined to give than under normal circumstances. And thankfully, it was particularly fashionable at the moment to donate to charities, which made her efforts a great deal easier.
Looking down upon the assembly, she glimpsed Lord Hemingsworth speaking with the elderly Earl of Paversley near the refreshment table. They would do nicely to begin the appeal, as Hemingsworth was always a good sport about giving funds, and Paversley was never one to let a companion best him at anything. Sophie lifted the hem of her cumbersome skirts but then stopped as she caught sight of a man in the distance.
She leaned closer to the railing and peered down toward the far balcony doors, unsure if she had seen Richard Jennings, the Earl of Abelard. Were the rumors true? Had he finally come home after spending the majority of the past year abroad? And was he really looking for another countess? Not that she continued to harbor feelings for the man, but he was an old family friend…
“Still the spy, I see,” a deep male voice spoke from behind.
Sophie whirled around and saw the Duke of Huntington leaning against the pillar to her right, watching her intently. A small jolt of excitement ran through her. Darn. She’d been hoping the sensation she felt when they first met last year had been a symptom of her fall, though clearly it was not.
“So you have returned from the States.” It was common knowledge that Huntington had numerous business concerns in America and often spent large portions of the year there.
The Duke looked oddly impressed. “I have.”
“Is this to be a whirlwind visit before you return?” The man was even more ridiculously handsome than her memories recalled.
“Actually, no,” he said, straightening off the pillar. He wore the same type of black evening regalia as the other men in attendance, and yet he still stood out, the color matching his glossy black hair and making his startling blue eyes stand out even more. “I am planning on a somewhat extended stay. I thought it finally time to look after my assets here in England.”
“Indeed?” was all she could think to say.
“Nice of you to sound enthused about it.”
She arched an eyebrow, determined to project an air of confidence and an immunity to his charms, even if her knees had chosen that very moment to feel unaccountably weak. Well, the man was lethally handsome… Surely there wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be aware of him, purely on a physical level, of course. “I’m certain a large portion of the female population of London has more than enough enthusiasm at your return to make up for any lack on my part.”
He reared back slightly in surprise before a seductive grin transformed his face, softening the sharp angles of it. “You wound my heart.” He placed his palm dramatically on the left-side lapel of his coat.
“Wound your heart? Highly improbable,” Sophie scoffed as she twisted to look over the balustrade and scan the crowd once more. “Rumor has it you don’t even have one.”
“So I hear.” She felt him move alongside her, until he stood a little too close to her, his arm nearly brushing hers. She feigned disinterest, but her whole body was attuned to his slightest movement. Blast the man. “I must confess,” he murmured into her ear, “I have on more than one occasion found my mind wandering toward thoughts of what mischief you were up to. It fairly aged me in thinking of the possibilities.”
She would not allow him to play her like one of the violas in the small orchestra below. “I am well beyond the age of getting into mischief,” she informed him rather pertly. Could she sound any more like the aging spinster her aunt made her out to be?
“I highly doubt that.” When she turned back to face him, he still had that too-wicked grin on his face. The pulse at her neck throbbed wildly in reply. “What are you now…four and twenty? Surely you have many tree-climbing years left?”
“A man never makes mention of a lady’s age, Your Grace. Nor does he mention any past faux pas.” She snapped her fan open with more force than she’d intended and began fluttering it in front of her face. The room was suddenly stifling.
“Yes, but I delight in being improper.” He winked at her, and she felt her belly do a somersault. She tried to distract herself with her fan, folding it back up and letting it dangle from her wrist. “Is your aunt still lamenting your lack of marital status?”
Having exhausted the fan’s possibilities, she focused on smoothing her skirt. Empirically speaking, she could understand just how women fell for the man’s charms, determined as she was not to be one of them. “She worries I am a hopelessly lost cause and has never fully recovered from my refusal of Lord Castlemaine’s suit last season.”
“A tragedy to be sure.” He gave her a crooked, rather predatory half-smile, like she’d just issued him a rather improper invitation. “Though I fear your aunt does not truly know the sort of man who would make you a good husband.”
“And you do?” Now that made her laugh aloud. “Do you even know what the word means?”
“I have a good deal more knowledge about women’s needs and wants than your aunt,” he murmured.
A mental image of him kissing Felicity darted into her mind, along with a memory of the low rumble of his deep voice as he’d spoken so seductively to that woman of her beauty, of his desire… She jolted herself back to the present, more disturbed than ever at the thoughts threatening to overcome her. “I shan’t quibble with that.” Thank goodness her voice wasn’t shaking. “Though I am curious as to what you think mine are? Particularly as we’ve only ever had one conversation, and I gather I am not at all like the…other ladies…you usually spend time with.”
He smiled at her jab, apparently not taking offense. She wished he had—it might have made him take his discomfiting presence to the other side of the room and away from her. “You are a strong and intelligent woman. I am sure your aunt has been trying to shackle you to men that you’d have twined around your little finger in a matter of minutes, yet at the same time, they would expect you to give up all of your independence and charity work at the orphanage. They would offer you no challenge whatsoever and only stifle your innate passion.”
His words wrapped around her like seductive smoke, and she mentally shook herself once more. She would not be caught under his spell. He knew well how to toy with women. She would not be just another of his empty-headed admirers. “Ah, so that is what I am in need of then…a challenge?” she asked. “What of romance and chivalry? Are not all women supposedly longing for such things?”
“You were foolishly romantic last year. I will grant you that. But surely you are over that nonsense now and have matured.” She was about to agree with him when he continued, “Besides, you are also a very passionate woman, Lady Sophie, and one who will need a man able to satisfy those longings.”
Her face felt like it had caught fire. All of this talk of marriage and passion with a known philanderer was…uncomfortable. “You go too far, Your Grace.” His eyes seemed to dance in mirth in response to her reprimand. He was enjoying her discomfort…the cad.
“Not far enough,” he murmured. “At least not yet anyhow.”
He stepped forward, stopping barely a foot away—so close, she could see the thick eyelashes framing his deep blue eyes. It wouldn’t take much to lift a hand, place her palm against the deep black silk of his waistcoat, and feel that broad chest under her fingertips… She inhaled deeply, hoping for some air to clear her clouded senses, yet all she accomplished was breathing in the woodsy masculine scent of his cologne.
“I think,” he continued, “that your aunt has the right idea yet is going about it all wrong.”
Sophie could only look away. He was like the male version of the sirens that led Greek sailors to their doom. “Well, so far her endeavors have come up empty-handed.” Feeling a sudden urge to discomfit him as much as she herself was, she cocked her head to the side and appraised him. “You would not credit it, but she has the most far-fetched notion that you are looking for a wife.”
“How interesting.” He lifted his eyebrows in mild surprise. “I wonder how she came upon that idea?”
Who on Earth knew when it came to Aunt Mabel? “It amazes me where she gets her information, though most of the time her sources have proved consistently accurate. However, in this instance, I fear, she has been led very far astray.”
“Is my marrying really so farfetched a notion?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “I imagine one does not earn the moniker the ‘Devil Duke’ without having an even more jaded view of marriage than I do, besides being far too busy with your business dealings to even spend a moment of your time considering it.”
“True. Though you must know I delight in confounding Society.”
“I suppose I do not really know you well enough to comment.”
“Something I fully intend to rectify.” His head slowly slanted down toward her own, until his lips were but a breath away. “If only you will let me?”
She felt her heart nearly stop and her knees weaken. For a mad moment, she wondered what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to hers, his tongue dancing against her own. A delicious heat curled down her spine.
“We could have such fun together,” he murmured softly. “I could teach you so many things.”
How many times had he made that offer to a woman—probably to many women in this very room? What was she even thinking to allow him to affect her so? The man was a rake, a libertine, and a scoundrel. She knew better than to succumb to sweet, meaningless words from someone of his ilk. She loftily raised her chin and took a deliberate step away from him. “I have no need to learn anything from you, thank you very much.”
He sighed long and heartily, obviously being dramatic for effect. “I will endeavor to change your mind, my dear.”
Not likely. “You will be trying a very long time indeed.”
His beautifully shaped lips twitched. “I do like a challenge.”
“Oh, you are incorrigible.” Whirling back to the balustrade, Sophie looked down at the ballroom below. “So tell me, what brings you back to England now?” Maybe if she hit him with enough banal pleasantries, he’d get bored and find someone else to tease.
“Doing my duty to my title. Marriage could prove to be a very advantageous business arrangement for both of us.”
Us. Sophie whirled toward him, certain she had heard him wrong. “You did not, seriously, just suggest we marry, did you?”
He gave a half shrug. “I did. You need donations for your orphanage, correct? Just think of what having access to my bank account would provide.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to be dazzled by the thought of having unlimited funds to help the orphanage. Such a resource would ensure all of the orphans could be trained to find suitable employment as Jane had. There would be meaning and purpose to their lives as they learned the skills to ensure their continued survival…
But then, the reality of the situation returned to her. This was the Devil Duke. The man had no intention of marrying. He had to be teasing her, of course. Or worse, trying to lull her into believing she could make a respectable man out of him so he could turn his seductive wiles on her. Did he really think she would fall for such nonsense?
“That is the most ridiculous notion I’ve heard in a very long time,” she said.
Huntington folded his arms across his chest, and a rather disconcerted frown replaced the devil-may-care grin that had been crossing his face. “What is so ridiculous about it?” he replied, all traces of teasing gone. “You’re meant to say yes, actually.”
“Am I?” A peal of laughter broke free. Sophie didn’t believe he was serious for an instant. “The Devil Duke, proposing? How hilarious.”
Instead of joining in her laughter, he remained serious and seemed, truth be told, rather perturbed. “Well, I am glad you think so. Obviously, I am going to have to think of another strategy to get your agreement.”
“Oh please, you know I shall never fall for such a tall tale.” Her laughter gradually subsided, and she eyed him speculatively. “Now, are you going to tell me the true reason of why you have returned this time? I imagine it is for some grand, money-making scheme.”
“Primarily, yes,” Huntington agreed as he walked over next to her and placed both of his hands upon the balustrade.
Sophie couldn’t help but notice how large his hands and fingers were. How capable and strong they appeared. Inwardly, she winced as she wondered how many women they’d caressed.
The Duke looked down upon the multitude of bodies below. “I have no wish to bore you over the details. I would much rather hear whom have you chosen as your next hapless victim.”
She scanned the crowd. “What on Earth are you referring to?”
He laughed. “Come, come. I thought you more frank than that.”
Tilting her head toward him, she decided that the change of topic was to her advantage. “I may have observed the Earl of Paversley to be in the right frame of mind to agree to a sizable donation for the orphanage.”
“Well into his cups, is he?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “And before he gets there, I intend to point out the merits of donating to Grey Street Orphanage, a far worthier cause than the frivolous pursuits of cards and ladies he usually spends his fortune on.”
“So basically, you intend to cajole, wheedle, and badger him, whilst fluttering those beautiful eyelashes until he capitulates and agrees with you, no doubt.” There was a look of complete certainty in his gaze, which made Sophie wonder how he could know her so well already. She hadn’t even tried her wiles on him for a donation yet, what few wiles she had.
“I do not flutter my eyelashes.” She folded her arms. “Well, only sometimes. But is that all I am known for? Harassing everyone for contributions for the orphanage?”
“Yes.” He regarded her with complete seriousness.
She did not quite know what to say. True, she did use every available opportunity at balls and social events to lobby for donations, but only because it was vital to the children’s survival.
“Do not look so disheartened,” he said, more gently than she would have thought the Devil Duke capable. “Primarily, your reputation is one of a charming eccentric, and most are only too happy to donate to your cause.”
Sophie knew of her own reputation among her peers, but to have it pointed out, particularly by him, was nonetheless slightly aggravating. She smiled sweetly up at him. “I am so glad to hear it, for I do believe that it is time for a donation from you.”
“It is, is it?”
“Yes, and I fear it has been a very hard year for the orphanage, and as such, it would only be fitting your monetary gift be a large one.”
The look he gave her was one he might direct at a business adversary he was sizing up, not a woman. It warmed her almost as much as his earlier flirtations had. “Quite the little mercenary, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but only when it comes to the orphanage.”
“Very well,” he capitulated, much more easily than she’d expected. “I shall call upon you tomorrow and deliver the check in person.”
“You cannot do that.” The implications of such a visit would have almost unbearable consequences; her aunt would be certain the Duke was courting her, and then her talk of marriage would become even more rampant and insufferable than ever. “I think it would be best if you simply post the donation.”
“But I have decided to donate one thousand pounds.”
“One thousand pounds?” She blinked in surprise. “Are you quite serious?”
“I am always serious about money,” he said. “Besides, it is far too great an amount to see get lost in the post.”
A thousand pounds was beyond generous; it was amazing. “I do not know what to say, Your Grace. That is very magnanimous of you.”
“Shall I lower the amount then?”
“No!” she nearly shouted but managed to contain herself, just barely. “One thousand pounds will be perfect.” What they could do with a thousand pounds! Much-needed schoolbooks, slates, and chalk. A few extra beds since they always seemed to be short. Warm blankets for winter and new clothing in larger sizes for the older children, who never seemed to stop getting taller and broader. Perhaps even a few toys and treats to bring a smile to little faces that had experienced so much hardship in their young lives.
The Duke cleared his throat, breaking into her mental cataloguing. “Perhaps now you can start calling me Devlin? ‘Your Grace’ sounds so formal.”
Truly, he never stopped being shocking. “It is formal for a reason, Your Grace. And I certainly have no intention of calling you by your first name, ever.”
“Oh, but you will, my dear.” The cadence of his voice was as smooth as honey. “One of these days, you are going to scream my name aloud. That I promise you.”
Her breath hitched in her throat at the sensual pledge in his stare. Every single nerve ending in her body tingled in anticipation. What was wrong with her? The rake was taking great pleasure in toying with her. She could not allow him to addle her senses so. “I will do no such thing. Now, if you will excuse me, it is time I get back to work and procure more contributions.” The children of the orphanage were depending on her for their continued survival.
Pointedly, she turned her gaze down toward the ballroom and scanned the crowd once more. Her heart skipped, just a little, when she saw Richard standing below. He still looked noble and handsome. She leaned slightly further forward.
“I thought you a great deal more sensible than to remain enamored with the Earl of Abelard,” Huntington said, his voice suddenly devoid of any warmth.
Sophie slanted a glance at him. “Do not be ridiculous. I was… I was just surprised to see him, that is all.”
“My, how believable you sound.”
Unable to stand his close scrutiny, Sophie angled her body slightly away from his. “What business is it of yours anyhow? The fact of the matter is I wasn’t certain he was back in England. Although my aunt said so, I did not quite believe her. She did, after all, think you were looking for a wife. How was I to place much credence in her news that the Earl had returned and was looking for a wife, too? I mean, what are the odds?”
“So you are still smitten?” His voice seemed to harden. “One would have thought falling out of a tree would have cured that.”
“I am not smitten.” She stepped back from the balcony. “I have simply heard of his charitable work whilst on the continent, and I find myself eager to speak with him about it.”
“Keeping note of his movements? I must say, I am surprised you didn’t pounce when his wife died barely a month after they married last year. If I was in your shoes, I would have taken advantage of the situation.”
“Of course, you would have.” The lighthearted, teasing Devil Duke was gone, now replaced by a rather surly one. She wasn’t sure she liked the change. “I am not like you, thank goodness. And I certainly would not have taken advantage of a man, so obviously heartbroken over his wife’s death that he had to leave the country to escape her memory.”
“You certainly have kept tabs on him.”
She thrust her chin out. “I happen to be best friends with his sister, Constance. It was she who told me of his travels.”
“What…and you did not know he was back? How very remiss of her not to inform you.”
“For your information, Constance has just married and is now living in Scotland. She has never been a particularly good correspondent, and subsequently, I have not heard from her recently.”
“How tragic for you.” The sarcasm in his voice was blatant. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the balustrade, but the rigidity in his face and body made him look like he was trying too hard—and failing—to look casual. “Why, if you had known he was in England sooner, you could have begun your pursuit in earnest. He is, after all, a widow now, and his mourning period is clearly over.”
“Stop being such a scoundrel. I have no intention of pursuing anyone.” She narrowed her eyes. “If I did not know you to be such a cad, I would say you sound decidedly jealous.”
“Hardly,” he said. “Jealousy is yet another wasted sentiment. You place too much importance on yourself. I care naught if you fancy the Earl or not. It makes very little difference to my plans.”
Sophie found herself unaccountably hurt by his disinterest. “The only plan of yours that I care about is receiving that donation tomorrow.”
He rose and bowed, a mock smile gracing his face. “You shall receive it, my lady, of that you can be sure.”
Sophie lifted her skirts and rotated toward the stairway that would lead her directly into the throng below. “As I have a very busy day, I would appreciate it if you call earlier than usual.”
“Hoping your aunt will not find out about my visit?”
“To be perfectly honest, yes,” she replied over her shoulder. “She is one of the biggest gossips in London.”
“Very well, I will call upon you around eleven,” he said as she walked past him toward the staircase, “with perhaps more to offer than you think.”
…
The man stood in the shadows, quietly observing Lady Sophie and the Duke of Huntington speak with one another on the landing. An interesting development… He had not known the Devil Duke was acquainted with the lady.
Though he could not hear what they were saying, it was clearly not the abysmal weather they were discussing, if the dark frown creasing the Duke’s face and the narrowing of the lady’s eyes were of any indication.
In fact, the emotions flittering across both of their faces suggested that they were much more familiar with one another than might be considered proper, particularly with the Duke’s more than notorious reputation with the ladies and the chit’s lack of marital status.
Hmmm… He had never seen the Devil show any emotion, apart from boredom, toward a lady before. How very interesting. Perhaps it was a situation that he could use to his advantage.
For too long, the Devil Duke had been in possession of a fortune and title that should have been his. It was only fitting he repay the favor and take away something from the Devil. Then mayhap Huntington, too, would know what it felt like to always be yearning for something forever out of reach.