Duchess 02 - Surprising Lord Jack (20 page)

“Do you think Frances will be ready to dance at Ned’s and Ellie’s wedding ball?” Drew asked as he untied his cravat. He and Venus were in their room, preparing to retire for the night.

“Of course.” Venus sat down at her dressing table and fumbled with a hairpin. At least she hoped Frances would be ready.

Drew raised his brows before pulling his shirt over his head. “The wedding is only four days away. It will take a miracle to make Miss Hadley safe on a dance floor.” He dropped his shirt on the carpet and sat down to deal with his footwear. “She’ll be crushing toes and colliding with people left and right. Our ballroom will look like a battlefield.”

“Jack will work with her. I’ve got Miss Addison coming every day until the wedding.”

“For twenty-four hours a day?” Drew dropped his stockings on top of his shirt. “It will take Jack every waking moment and then some to transform the girl from a dancing disaster into an even moderately competent partner. I think her wallflower idea might be a good one.”

“You are too harsh.”

He snorted. “I believe you have the bruises to prove my case.”

“I do not.” Though she hadn’t checked her shins yet. “Oh, Drew, what are we going to do about the poor girl?”

He came over to help her pull the rest of the pins from her hair. “What? The Duchess of Love is asking my poor advice?”

She tried to frown at him but got distracted by the sight of his naked chest. He was in excellent condition for a man his age—well, for a man any age. Mmm. And his fingers moving through her hair felt wonderful.

But they were speaking of Jack and Frances. “Perhaps I am. I think Jack may like her.”

“I’m sure Jack does like her. Jack is a very friendly fellow. He likes most people.”

“That can be a fault, too.” She frowned up at Drew. “Do you think he’s not very discerning?”

Drew picked up her brush. “Actually, I think Jack is one of the most discerning people I know.” He pulled the brush through her hair.

“But the rumors.” She closed her eyes and felt her tension begin to drain away with each long stroke. She forgot when she was in the country how bad the rumors were.

Surely she could not have raised a rake . . . could she?

“From what people say, one wouldn’t think Jack was at all discriminating in his tastes. Lady Dunlee has whispered to me on more than one occasion that he frequents some of the worst brothels.”

“You can’t listen to what Lady Dunlee and the other old cats say, Venus. You know how much people like to spread half-truths and even complete fabrications.”

She frowned at him. “There’s no smoke without fire.”

“No, my dear duchess, sometimes there
is
smoke without fire. Think of your breath in the cold or the steam rising from boiling water.” He smiled. “Sometimes what looks like smoke isn’t smoke at all.”

She twisted around to face him. “You think the rumors stem from Jack’s charity work?”

“I think many of them do.” He shrugged and turned her back so he could keep brushing. “Jack is no saint, but he’s no scoundrel, either.”

He put the brush down and began unbuttoning the back of her dress. Clearly, he was not going to say another word about Jack’s activities. She would have to try a different tack.

“What does Whildon say about Frances?”

Drew pulled her up so he could reach the rest of her buttons. “What can he say? He’s just met her.” He paused to kiss the back of her neck. “He has a lot to say about her father, though.”

Miss Hadley’s father—now there was a man she’d like to kick in a very sensitive area. “A man who could desert his children like that is beyond despicable.”

He finished the buttons and tugged her dress down. “I’m afraid it’s worse than that—well, worse for Miss Hadley.”

“Worse? How could it possibly be worse for Frances?” She stepped out of her dress; Drew swept her hair off her back and over her shoulder so he could work on untying her stays.

“Whildon discovered that Hadley has been in London from time to time over the years, as recently as last fall, and has been in regular contact with Miss Hadley’s brother.”

“What?” Venus swung around to face him. She felt as if ice water had been poured over her head. “And he never visited Frances?”

“Never.” He turned her back so he could finish with her stays.

“That’s horrible. Can you imagine a father behaving in such a fashion?”

“Unfortunately, I can.”

Unfortunately, she could, too. There were far too many blackguards among the men of the
ton
.

“Whildon further discovered—he was talking to Stephen Parker-Roth, a young plant hunter who’s around Jack’s age—that Frances’s brother is quite open about wanting nothing to do with his mother’s family.” Her stays dropped to the floor next to her dress. “Whildon says Frederick doesn’t care a jot about the
ton
.” Drew laughed. “I have to agree with him there.”

“But you are a duke. You can afford not to care. A mere mister . . .” She shook her head. “But even a mere mister should care about his family. He should meet them if for no other reason than to see if he wishes the connection.”

Drew put his arm around her and led her toward the bed. “Likely the boy is driven by loyalty to his father—Lord and Lady Rothmarsh have made no secret of the fact they can’t abide Hadley senior—but he’s also socially awkward. Parker-Roth told Whildon that Frederick is a brilliant botanist but has very few friends. And he’s just married a woman from the theater.”

Venus gasped. “A prostitute?”

“No. Not even an actress, I believe. But you can see why the man might think Rothmarsh wouldn’t accept her.”

“Yes. Oh dear. And if Jack marries Frances, he’ll be stuck with this unpleasant fellow as a brother-in-law.”

Drew had his hands around her waist to lift her onto the bed, but stopped and frowned at her. “I thought you planned to repair Miss Hadley’s reputation so Jack wouldn’t feel compelled to meet her at the altar.”

“Yes, but if Jack likes her—”

Drew put his finger on her lips. “Liking her doesn’t mean he wishes to marry her.”

She pushed his hand away. “I know that.” Sometimes Drew could be such a cabbagehead. “But sometimes liking turns to love.”

Drew looked extremely skeptical as he lifted her onto the bed. “Sometimes lusting turns to love. I’m not so certain about liking.”

“I am. Admit it, Drew. Lovers have to like each other.”

“Sadly, my dear duchess, I must inform you that you are wrong. Lovers merely need to lust for each other. I’ve known people who dislike each other intensely when they aren’t in bed together.” He pulled off his pantaloons and climbed in beside her. “Lovemaking can be an intensely selfish activity.”

“Not if it’s
love
making.”

Drew inclined his head. “But
love
making is an extremely rare activity.” He directed his gaze at her lips. “One I would dearly like to engage in, if I have your permission?”

Venus grinned, all at once feeling nineteen again. She loved Drew so much. Even after all their years of marriage, she thrilled at being in his bed and in his life. “Very well.”

“Splendid. Then let us get rid of this very annoying shift. I don’t know how you came to wear it to bed.”

Venus happily raised her arms to allow him to pull the garment up and over her head.

 

 

“This is hopeless,” Frances said. “I’m never going to learn to dance.”

Jack was about ready to agree with her. They’d practiced almost constantly—or at least it felt that way—but dancing with Frances was still like trying to herd a wayward sheep. Well, when it wasn’t like dodging a charging bull. His toes were throbbing from their most recent encounter with her foot. Thank God she was no longer wearing her brother’s boots.

Even Miss Addison seemed to have lost patience; her playing was getting faster and sharper.

“Let’s take a short respite. Miss Addison, would you like some tea?”

“Yes, thank you, my lord. That would be very pleasant.” Miss Addison stood slowly and gave Frances an annoyed look. “My old bones were getting a mite tired from sitting on this hard bench.”

Frances stiffened. “There really is no need to torture everyone any longer,” she said. “You know what they say: you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

Miss Addison started to nod in agreement but stopped when she caught Jack’s glare.

“Speaking of dogs, I’m sure Shakespeare could use a walk. Why don’t you relax for a half hour or so, Miss Addison, while Miss Hadley and I take a turn around the square?”

“Very good, my lord.” Miss Addison smiled hopefully. “I’m sure we’ll all be in better fettle after a bit of a rest.”

He certainly hoped so. “Go get your coat and bonnet, Miss Hadley, if you will, and I’ll meet you by the front door.”

“This isn’t going to help,” Frances grumbled as she left.

Her face still looked mulish when she joined him a few minutes later, but at least Shakespeare’s enthusiastic greeting caused her to smile.

She went on the attack as soon as the front door closed behind them. “When will you admit this is a waste of time, my lord? I’m too old to learn to dance.”

He snorted. “You’re twenty-four, not eighty-four.”

Shakespeare tugged on the leash, trying to drag Jack across to the park.

“It appears we are crossing the square; please take my arm.”

She put her fingers on his sleeve. “I’ll grant you I’m not an octogenarian, but I might as well be. Most girls learn to dance when they are only fourteen or fifteen—or even younger. It is too late for me.”

“No, it’s not. You’re just too stubborn to try.”

She whipped her hand back to her side. “How can you say that? I’ve been trying until everyone—including Miss Addison—is ready to scream in frustration
and
pain. I’m sure you must have several bruised toes. Even Ellie, who is a saint, deserted us today.”

He opened the gate to the park and allowed Frances and Shakespeare to precede him. “That’s because the wedding is tomorrow, and Madam Celeste wanted to check the fit of her dress once more—as well you know.” He shook his head. “Mama is in such a dither, she’s driven Father and Ned to hide out at White’s.”

“Where you’d like to be as well.”

He couldn’t deny it, but he wouldn’t admit it. “I have our dancing lessons.”

“Which are like trying to teach the Thames to run backward. I’ll never learn to dance.”

The woman was maddening. “Certainly not if you keep insisting you won’t. It’s not such a hard skill to acquire. Why, I’ll wager even Shakespeare can dance.” He looked at the dog sitting impatiently at his feet, waiting to be freed from his leash. “
Can
you dance, Shakespeare?”

Damned if the dog didn’t get up on his hind legs and hop about.

“Well done.” He patted him on the head, removed his leash, and watched him take off after a squirrel.

Hmm. Perhaps that hadn’t been so well done on his part. He’d just demonstrated that Frances was less talented than a dog. “You
can
learn to dance, Frances, if only you’ll allow yourself to believe it’s possible.”

She snorted, though he thought he heard a little hiccup, too, as if she might be on the verge of tears. “I’d rather just sit on the sidelines.”

She was lying again.

Why was she so difficult?

Shakespeare treed one squirrel and took off after another.

Because she was afraid, just like the children he rescued from the streets. She could run an estate by herself, but she couldn’t navigate a dance floor. She was proud, and she was risking very public embarrassment.

But she was also lonely. He’d swear under all her obstinacy, she had a deep longing for life. He just needed to help her see that.

“Dance with me, Frances.” He took her hand and smiled. “Show me you’re as clever as Shakespeare.”

She frowned at him, and he felt sure he was going to get slapped soundly, but then she laughed.

“You are absurd.”

He tugged on her hand. He knew she was at least a little attracted to him. Or maybe it was his attraction to her he was feeling, because he certainly was feeling that.

Trent had often accused him of having an unnatural fascination with lost souls. And he’d often wondered himself why he, the third son of the Duke of Greycliffe, who had wealth and a loving family, who wanted for nothing, would feel this need to work with those whom no one wanted. Yes, the death of Ned’s son had started it, but that hadn’t been enough to sustain him through the months of frustration and disappointment, the various aspersions cast on his name, and the false rumors about his philandering. He hated being forced to pretend to be someone he wasn’t.

But there had been great satisfaction, too, especially when he visited the children at his foundling home. He was doing something important.

Perhaps that was it. As a third son, he wasn’t even the spare—he was the spare’s spare. Redundant. But his work gave his life meaning. The whores and abandoned children needed him. He was making their lives better, at least for a short while, and sometimes, with some of the children, he hoped forever.

Frances was nothing like the women and children he helped, but her loneliness and her fierce courage called to him in a way he couldn’t ignore.

And it didn’t hurt that she had big green eyes, flawless skin, a voice that made him think of bedrooms, and a slender, delightfully endowed figure—a figure he’d closely encountered numerous times recently while trying to teach her to dance.

“Dance with me,” he said again, lower, deeper. He would seduce her into his arms if he could.

He smiled. As Mama had said, dancing was an excellent way to flirt.

Frances glanced around nervously. “Here? But what if someone sees us?”

“No one will. The nurses have taken their charges in for naps, and the trees will hide us from anyone peering from the neighboring windows.” He took her hand and led her farther into the park—and she went, if not quite willingly, then without protesting.