“Oh, a favor. It seems one of our mutual friends is to be in Town, and my wife hadn’t the heart to say no to showing some interest in the girl and showing her about at the parties.”
“Ah.” Benedict gave a quick smile. “Thus she is floating around the social circles, and you’re next to the whiskey?”
“Did I mention that the girl is not but sixteen? And has the distinct pitch of a lap dog getting hit by a carriage?”
Benedict let out a hearty laugh. “Then cheers, old friend.”
“Old friend?” The Duke of Tempest approached with a cheery smile on his face. “Just what are we toasting to, and who’s trying to steal my friends away?”
Benedict gave a short bow. “Benedict Devlyn, Duke of Banbury.”
Tempest laughed, his eyes twinkling. “That sounds about right. What brings you into Town, Devil Duke? I haven’t seen you about this Season.”
“He avoids it,” another male voice cut in.
Truly it was as if the entire male sex could sense that Benedict needed support and were now coming to his aid in throngs.
“Lord Renwick, a pleasure,” Benedict said.
“You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew who my wife was talking to at this very moment.”
“Please do not finish telling me that story if it has anything to do with my—”
“Lovely aunt?” Renwick finished. “Perhaps I overdid it when I said 'lovely'. I’m sure we can conjure up a few more words to adequately describe the—”
“Chit?” Tempest offered.
“Meddlesome bag?” Rawlings input was quite useful.
“Incorrigible, quick witted, opinionated piece of…” Benedict stopped himself when his eyes set on the vision in front of him.
A beautiful woman walked into the room. Her profile was perfect, as if an artist had conjured her from heaven. Her lips, though he could only see the sides, were plump and a pale pink. Golden hair cascaded loosely around her shoulders, falling out of her messily placed bun. And her silver dress wrapped around her perfect form as if it was sewn onto her.
As if his mind had communicated with hers, she turned and looked at him. His stomach dropped, as did his whiskey. He cursed in every language he knew, not caring that the men around him probably thought he caught some sort of madness from his aunt. But he knew, even as she walked toward him and his stomach clenched, and his head pounded like the devil… This was the very same “girl,” who had nearly stolen his life three times. The only question hanging in the air between them was whether or not he’d leave this party dead or alive…
Chapter Two
A Matter of Honor
Katherine glanced at the Devil Duke. His face was a combination of smooth planes and perfect form. A muscle twitched in his jaw when he set his eyes on her, and for a minute they darkened, causing her to feel like a nervous girl still in pigtails. And then his once smoldering face turned to something much more predatory. Nostrils flared, fingers clenched at his sides, and then he raised his hand to touch the back of his head as if it ached.
Taking a steadying breath, she straightened her shoulders and made her way toward the man. An apology was surely in order after three years. After all, it hadn’t been her fault that he had suffered so much trauma at her hands, he just seemed to have the worst timing and balance out of any man she knew! The man was a walking scandal, sin incarnate. She only hoped she wouldn’t be ruined by merely associating with him, for his reputation with debutantes was clearly marked with scandal. Lucky for her, she wasn’t some debutante, but practically on the shelf, an old woman. Surely he wouldn’t find her the least bit attractive, and if he did? Well, if he did, she would simply have to ignore his virility and handsome face. Perhaps if she closed her eyes she could forget his handsomeness. She tried it.
Of course it did nothing but make her more curious if her mind had conjured up the same image she had just gazed upon.
It hadn’t.
He was far more attractive than a man of his reputation should be. She straightened her shoulders and shook the foreboding thoughts from her head.
Regardless of his reputation, she needed to at least acknowledge that all those silly incidents were her fault and her fault alone. Especially if she was to catch the eye of the duke's cousin, whom she knew would be in attendance this very night.
The Dowager Duchess of Durbin had said as much in her letter. And Katherine was thrilled that she would finally get her chance with the Scottish duke. The only man standing in her way was the Devil Duke himself, and she wasn’t about to let the obviously negative man get in the way of her happy future.
She swallowed and gave a quick curtsy, slowly raising her eyes toward him and waited. It was most improper for her to even use his last name instead of his title, but to her, the name fit. His last name of Devlyn described him quite perfectly for he was most assuredly descended from the devil himself. Dark hair, dark eyes, wide unforgiving lips, and a sneer fit for a true aristocrat. His eyebrows furrowed as a mocking smile danced across his face.
“Lady Katherine, it has been too long.” If she was a betting woman, which she most assuredly was not, she half expected him to continue in that same sentiment, adding that it had not been long enough. Banbury bent over her hand and bestowed a kiss upon it.
Quickly, she tugged it away and rubbed the spot where his lips had touched. Perhaps she was catching a chill? That was why her hand was still shaking when she placed it back at her side. Or maybe she really was frightened of the man.
“Yes, yes it has.” Katherine sighed. “I was wondering, if it would not be too bold to ask, your grace, might we take a turn about the room?”
He grimaced. Lovely. Always nice to know a gentleman enjoyed her company. “I believe that would be acceptable.” He turned slightly to the left and nodded to the men behind them. Each one of them was a beautiful male specimen, and oddly, looked slightly foxed. She shrugged and took his arm when he offered.
Heavens, her heart was beating out of her chest. Apologies did not come easy to Katherine, and an apology to such a menacing man, even if he did deserve it, was on the bottom of her list.
Banbury paused, allowing a couple to walk by in front of them, and when he did, his other hand reached out and lightly touched her arm as a warning to stop. It should not have meant anything, in fact, he was probably just worried she would somehow cause him to trip and hit his head for the fourth time. Instead, a shiver ran up and down the length of her body, and her heart seemed to take flight as if she were ready to faint.
Truly, the man was so fearsome even her heart was growing weary. They continued toward the back of the room where less people crowded around, and finally she opened her mouth to speak.
“I have something that needs to be said.”
“Then say it.” His voice was smooth and held no anger, merely impatience.
“I must apologize for any bodily or mental harm I may have caused you in the past. Please accept my sincerest regrets that I have been the cause of so much pain.”
Banbury’s lips moved into what could possibly be a smile and he brought his hand up to the back of his head. Did he have a headache?
“Do you have any further plans to cause me physical harm, my lady?”
“Not that I am aware of, no.”
“Well, just in case, I’ll be sure to give you a wide berth when we dance. Now, shall we?” He held out his gloved hand and winked.
Warmth pooled in her belly as she took his hand and joined him in a dance. Truthfully that could not have gone any better! Well, other than the fact that there was a resounding gasp when she allowed him to take her onto the dance floor.
But she paid the onlookers no heed. Now all she needed to do was inquire about his cousin. He turned her around and faced her again.
“Do you often travel to your cousin's estate in Scotland?” she asked.
Banbury narrowed his eyes. “I cannot say that I do. I much prefer my estate near Bath. Though I’m sure my cousin wouldn’t be against a familial visit come this spring.”
Lost in thought, she merely nodded. Heavens, she hadn’t remembered him being so boring or dry. Thankfully she wasn’t going to have to be leg-shackled to the man for the rest of her life. Suddenly, she felt quite sorry for the poor miserable woman who would have to share his bed every night. Granted, he was a beautiful male specimen to gaze upon, but looks could only take one so far if he had no sense of humor to speak of and didn’t know how to smile if his life depended on it.
As the song ended, her foot caught and twisted in the bottom of her skirt, sending her reeling into the duke's arms, but she was in so much pain and so mortified, she could only whimper as he helped her off the dance floor and out into the cool night air of the balcony.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked gently, kneeling down at her foot.
Unfortunately she lost her balance and kicked her injured foot into the air trying to regain it, landing a very hard blow to the duke's head.
He let out a curse and fell backward onto the ground with a thud.
“Oh my! Heavens, are you all right?” Momentarily forgetting about her injury, Katherine tried to walk on her bad ankle toward the duke but lost her footing, landing on top of him with her skirts up past her knees. The only reason she knew this was because cold air bit at her calves.
“Get off!” Banbury bellowed.
“I’m trying!” she argued, pushing away from him, but it was nearly impossible to skitter away when his arms were flailing about.
And then all pandemonium broke loose. A gasp was heard from the doorway followed by a cry, and then applause.
The Dowager Duchess of Durbin was sniffing and holding a handkerchief to her eye as if she was shedding tears over their obviously compromising situation. And the three men she had seen earlier drinking with Banbury were now grinning ear to ear, all of them clapping their hands as if they had just witnessed a comedy of errors.
“This isn’t what it looks like!” she wailed, peeling herself from the duke’s body and accidently kneeing him in the shin as she made her way back to her feet.
The duke didn’t speak, nor did he yell. Instead, he closed his eyes and began mumbling things under his breath.
“Is he praying?” the dowager asked.
A blond-headed fellow piped up. “Most likely to be struck by lightning.”
“Sounds familiar,” a man she now recognized as Lord Rawlings with dark features and crystal blue eyes said, looking quite amused. She hadn’t seen him in years, but he still held that rakish air.
She hadn’t a clue as to the identity of the other men, mainly because she had been in the country for so long. Assuming they were friends, she felt even more embarrassed that they had all just witnessed such a catastrophic event.
“So,” a tall gentleman who hadn’t spoken yet said, “When is the wedding to take place?”
Rawlings laughed. “I think he’s still praying God will strike him where he lies. Doesn’t work that way, fellow. Believe me, I’ve tried. Now, Renwick, Tempest, let us leave the Devil to his evil doings and have a drink on his behalf. It seems he’ll need it.”