Misleading a Duke. A.S. Fenichel
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“No. That is true. I wanted to apologize for any undue strain I may have caused you by trying to find out what kind of character you have.”
“Is that your apology, or shall I wait for more?” he said when she didn’t elaborate.
She stopped and puffed up her chest. Her cheeks were red and fire flashed in her eyes. “Why must you be so difficult? Even when I’m trying to be nice, you find fault. The entire situation was mostly your doing. If you had been open and honest, that would have been an end to our query and none of the rest would have been necessary.”
Even more beautiful when she was in a temper, he longed to pull her into his arms and taste those alluring lips. He was certain just one tug would topple all those curls from the pins that held her hair in place and he could find out if they were as soft as they appeared. It was maddening. “I hardly see how it was my fault. You and your friends spied on me and involved Geb, which is unforgivable.”
As soft and lovely as she was, a hard edge caught in her voice. “I suppose, then, you will not accept my apology. I see. Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to your solitude.” She turned to walk away and stopped, eyes narrowed into the darkness beyond the gardens, which were surrounded by tall evergreens.
Following her gaze, Nick saw nothing, though the hair on the back of his neck rose. “What is it?”
“I felt eyes on me, as if someone was watching.” She shivered and continued straining to see in the shadows.
“I’m sure you are imagining things.” He dismissed her worry.
That hateful glance fell on him before she plastered false serenity on her face. “Perhaps.”
He preferred the disdain to the untruthful agreement. Why he should care when he wanted nothing to do with her, he didn’t know. “Shall I escort you back inside, Lady Faith?”
“You are too kind, Your Grace, but I can manage the journey on my own.” With a curt nod, she stormed away from him toward the house.
Unable to look away, he admired the gentle sway of her hips until she climbed the veranda steps and went inside. Lord, how he longed to hold those hips and slide his hands up to that slim waist, and so much more. He shook away the wayward thoughts before he embarrassed himself with his desires.
One thing was certain, Faith Landon would be his undoing.
Chapter 2
“I really don’t know what to do,” Faith said on a long sigh.
Faith loved Tuesday tea with the Wallflowers of West Lane. It was a time set aside when they all talked and vented their problems. It had been a tradition since Aurora married and moved into her horrible husband’s West Lane townhouse in London.
Luckily the Earl of Radcliff had been killed when cheating a gambler at a less than reputable establishment. His death had freed Aurora, but the scars remained.
With or without that terrible character in their lives, they still met every Tuesday for a long, relaxing tea. Several months ago, Poppy had married Aurora’s brother Rhys, and he had joined them and been named an honorary Wallflower.
Rhys was a welcome addition and always added a bit of fun to the conversation. His rakish days behind him, he’d settled into a lovely life with Poppy and never looked back. His golden-boy good looks still turned heads in the ballroom, but Rhys only saw his wife and none other.
Rhys turned a serious eye on her. “To be honest, Faith, I’m surprised you haven’t just called off and let that be the end of it. Breckenridge has given you leave to do so and been a good sport and gentleman by not calling an end to the engagement himself. He’s protecting your reputation.”
“Mother would be furious. She’s already quite in despair over my behavior. Well, what she knows of it.” Faith cringed at the lectures she’d had to endure the last few times she’d seen her mother. Living at the West Lane house made it more tolerable. Still, she hated to be at odds with Mother.
“I don’t think your mother is why.” Mercy was curled up on the chaise with her feet pulled under her willowy figure. Her green eyes flashed with merriment, and she twirled a strawberry-blond curl around one finger. Her yellow dress was a direct compliment to the butter yellow and blue décor.
Faith shrugged. “I was just starting to find him interesting when he found out about our investigation.”
Aurora patted her silken blond hair back into place. She had dropped all pretense of mourning the beast she’d been married to, and was in a lovely royal-blue day dress. People talked that it had only been eight months since her husband’s death, but she’d had enough of black and brown frocks. “Do you think you would like to marry him, Faith? I mean, despite his reluctance to tell you what he was doing all those years out of the country? We still know almost nothing about his character, beyond the fact that he seems nice on the surface.”
“No,” Faith answered quickly. “I won’t marry him under the current circumstances.”
Mercy laughed and pushed her spectacles up on her nose. “It seems the two of you are in agreement then.” She sobered. “There would be some scandal if you called off without an offer from another gentleman, but we can survive a bit of gossip. You would recover.”
Frustrated, Faith plucked at the end of her ruffled sleeve. “I don’t like the way any of this has gone. I wanted to know him before I married him or rid myself of him. Is that so much to ask?” She hopped up from the settee and paced to the window.
The parlor faced the street, and the rainy day had kept most people inside. Still, there were a few hearty souls trudging down West Lane with their umbrellas held high. The weather was a reflection of the disaster she’d made of her life.
“What do you want?” Rhys asked.
Turning, Faith faced her closest friends. They would do anything for her and she would do the same. All four women had been sent away to finishing school in Lucerne due to bad behavior, and the three years growing into young ladies had been a pleasure because of the friendship they’d forged. Nothing would ever separate them; not marriage nor distance. They were the Wallflowers of West Lane. It had been the luckiest day in Faith’s life when she met these three on the way to Switzerland. She shuddered when she imagined having to survive the Wormbattle School for Young Ladies on her own.
“If I could just get him to listen, really listen. I mean, without all the other noise about what we’ve said and done. I want him to tell me what kind of man he is and answer some basic questions about his life. I want to tell him what I want from life and have him hear me. I know men don’t care what women want, but I refuse to be a doormat.” Faith’s breath had sped up with her desires. She calmed. “If I could take him away somewhere, where he would be forced to listen—” She laughed. “I sound like a madwoman.”
Mercy tapped her chin. “No. A bit desperate, but not mad. How could we convince the Duke of Breckenridge to go somewhere private, out of the city, where you might talk to him uninterrupted for a few days?”
Faith threw up her hands. Maybe there had been a better way to handle this arranged marriage her mother had devised, but she still couldn’t think of how. If only Nicholas had simply answered some questions