he rasped grimly, once they had moved out of the Earl’s hearing. ‘Besides being far too old for you, the man is an obvious rake who is only interested in bedding a woman rather than wedding her!’
Jane gasped—both at the Duke’s arrogance in once again telling her what she should do, and at the indelicacy of his warning about the Earl. He almost made it sound as if she had deliberately set out to engage the other man’s interest.
Well, she might be inexperienced in the ways of men, but that did not mean Jane did not recognise a consummate flirt when she met one. Although, strangely, the Earl’s behaviour had not been in the least flirtatious with her until the Duke had appeared at her side…? But after days of not knowing exactly how she should behave towards the Duke since he had made love to her, she now found herself consumed with anger at the return of his high-handedness.
She also recognised that the apparent intensity of her conversation with the Duke was now attracting attention from Arabella’s other guests…
‘Surely you are mistaken, Your Grace?’ she said evenly, her expression deliberately serene in acknowledgement of those curious glances. ‘I thought it was the case that all titled gentlemen needed to marry and produce an heir?’
The Duke turned to scowl down the sharp blade of his arrogant nose at her. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Jane, but I have not yet chosen to do so.’
‘I am sure that is only because you have so far been too busy.’
‘My estates—’
‘I was not referring to work on your estates, Your Grace.’
His dark brows rose. ‘Then to what were you referring, Jane…?’
Her lips curved into a smile even as her eyes glowed with challenge. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at the age of…thirty…?’
‘One and thirty,’ Hawk supplied cautiously, sensing from Jane’s too-innocent demeanour that he was about to receive another one of her infamous setdowns.
‘Exactly.’ Jane nodded coolly. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at such an advanced age must be because you are far too busy interfering in other people’s lives to have time to attend to your own…’
For what had to be the second time in Jane’s company—or possibly the third?—Hawk found himself unable to repress the hard bark of laughter provoked by this woman’s wicked sense of humour.
At his own expense this time!
The unexpected laughter also served to dispel the tension he had been feeling since he first saw her in Whitney’s company.
‘Touché, Jane,’ he drawled dryly.
‘You are more than welcome, Your Grace,’ she returned pertly.
‘I never doubted for a moment that would be the case.’ He nodded, still smiling, relieved that after days of awkwardness Jane at last seemed to be showing signs of returning to her more forthright self. ‘Perhaps you will now allow me the honour of escorting you in to dinner, Jane?’
Her brows rose. ‘Is there not some other, worthier lady present this evening, who is eagerly awaiting the Duke of Stourbridge’s attentions?’
Yes, Hawk knew that Lady Pamela Croft, the most highly raved lady in the room, and Whitney’s older sister, would be expecting him to escort her into dinner.
But, unlike that evening at Markham Park almost a week ago, when Hawk’s offer to take Jane in to dinner had been thwarted by Jane herself, Hawk felt no more inclined to bow to Society’s dictates than Whitney. At an evening ‘spent amongst old friends’ he could ignore rules of etiquette for once.
‘Perhaps,’ he dismissed arrogantly. ‘But none that I would rather have on my arm,’ he added distractedly, as his attention was drawn to the fact that a blushingly pretty Arabella had accepted being escorted into the dining room by a smugly triumphant-looking Earl of Whitney.
Damn the man.
First Jane. Now Arabella.
Surely he would not have to spend the entire evening fending off the other man’s attentions from one or the other?
‘If you are sure, Your Grace?’ Jane answered him huskily.
‘I am very sure, Jane,’ Hawk confirmed tersely, and he turned his gaze reluctantly away from Arabella and Whitney.
Jane’s hand trembled slightly as it rested on the Duke’s arm, and her face felt flushed as the other guests turned to watch the formidably arrogant Duke of Stourbridge escorting her, a young woman with whom none of them were as yet acquainted, through to the formal dining room.
Neither could she help but notice the narrowed blue gaze of the Earl of Whitney as he too turned to watch the two of them. It was an intense blue gaze that was fixed firmly on Jane. And, unless she was mistaken, not in the least rakishly.
She was aware of his shrewd gaze several times during dinner, but deliberately ignored it. The Earl even smiled at her in a frankly conspiratorial manner on one occasion, as if encouraging her to share with him the joke of such pompous formality. Jane did not so much as acknowledge the smile as she turned her attention to Lord Croft, where he sat to the left of her at the table.
The Duke presided over the head of the table, of course, with Arabella, as his hostess, seated at the other end. Arabella had placed Jane between Lord Croft and his son Jeremy. Both men were charming and affable as they easily put her at her ease. The younger man was especially attentive after learning that Jane had spent her early years in Somerset, proceeding to talk knowledgeably about the area from memories of his own visits there as a child.
But still Jane could not help but be aware of the intensity of the Earl of Whitney’s interest as he sat across the table from her, listening intently to her conversation rather than taking any part in it…
Hawk found his attention wandering constantly from the dry wit of Lady Pamela’s conversation. Instead he watched Jane with a brooding intensity. The fact that several other men were looking at her as intently, the Earl of Whitney and Jeremy Croft but two of them, caused his brows to draw together darkly.
‘Miss Jane Smith has become quite the darling of the evening, has she not?’ Lady Pamela commented dryly.
‘What?’ Hawk turned to bark tersely.
His friend and neighbour arched teasing brows at his obvious irritation. ‘I was commenting on the fact that Miss Smith seems to hold my husband entranced, my son beguiled, my brother amused and the Duke of Stourbridge mesmerised,’ Lady Pamela drawled.
Hawk frowned at her. ‘You are imagining things, Pamela.’
‘I do not think so.’ She shook her head slowly. ‘Can it be possible that the elusive Duke of Stourbridge has at last settled on his choice of bride…?’
Bride?
Could Pamela possibly be referring to Jane…?
‘Do not be ridiculous, Pamela.’ He snapped his impatience at the absurdity of her suggestion that he could seriously be contemplating making
