How to Capture a Countess (Duchess Diaries 1) (17 page)

“Which is half the fun, don’t you think?”

Her mouth opened, and then closed, and then opened again. Her gaze flickered past him, to the steps and front door, and then back, but there was no fear in her gaze, only excitement. “Fun?” she asked. “Or is it madness?”

“Is there a difference?”

She started to answer, but then frowned. “Yes. There is a difference.”

She looked sad, as if that thought were forced from her.

He slipped a finger under her chin and lifted her face so the morning sun shone directly on her. “It’s hell being bound by propriety, isn’t it?”

She managed a smile. “No. I’m just being silly. Sin, we can’t do this—”

He took her hand and walked to the back hallway until they were tucked out of sight of the bright foyer. Once there, he turned to her. “Is this better?”

An odd light entered her eyes and he could almost feel the excitement building in her. She was coming alive, blooming before his very eyes.
She likes the excitement of the unknown as well as I do. We are alike in that, we two.

“Shall we?” he asked. Without awaiting an answer, he stepped forward until he was almost toe-to-toe with her, then he captured her hand and placed her fingertips on his chest. “Can you feel that?”

Beneath his embroidered waistcoat was his cambric
shirt, barely muffling the rapid beat of his heart. “Can you feel that?” he whispered. “Feel my blood thundering?”

Her eyes widened and she nodded.

“You do that to me.” He lifted her hand and pressed his lips to her own tumultuous pulse, her skin warm beneath his lips. Their eyes locked as the air about them grew thick, and he slid his lips from her wrist to her palm, blowing gently as he did so.

She shivered and swayed toward him.

He dropped her hand and moved away.

Disappointment flickered over her face and he grinned. “Now we know who is less able to resist the other.”

Rose’s jaw firmed. “Do we?” To his surprise, she grabbed his hand and placed it at her throat. Her skin was warm and slightly damp from her recent exertions, her pulse fluttering wildly.

Her boldness held him in place. At the touch of her warm skin under his fingertips, he decided to show her how unaffected he was, and gently slid his hand over her shoulder to the back of her neck to draw a shiver.

She gasped and, with a shaky breath, pressed herself to him, which made his cock harden instantly. He slipped his hands about her waist and—

The sound of approaching footsteps made them part just as Miss Isobel appeared at the top of the stairs. She leaned over the banister.

Sin quickly stepped away from Rose and leaned against the opposite wall so that it appeared as if they were engaged in a desultory conversation, a proper amount of distance between them.

“Ah, Miss Balfour and Lord Sinclair!” She waved and then came down the steps to join them. “Good morning,” she said, looking toward the drawing room doors. “Have either of you seen her grace this morning?”

“No . . . ” Rose and Sin said at the same time.

Rose cleared her throat. “I haven’t seen her grace since yesterday. She wasn’t at breakfast this morning.”

Miss Isobel frowned. “I wonder where she is? She graciously offered to bank—”

“Miss Isobel, there you are!” Aunt Margaret came out of the small salon just to Rose’s left.

Sin belatedly realized that the doors, which were usually closed, had been wide open.
Damn it, had she been listening?
He wouldn’t put it past her.

“Good morning, Miss Isobel,” Aunt Margaret said.

Miss Isobel made a quick curtsy and then looked around the foyer. “Where are the pugs, your grace?”

“Charlotte made the error of putting large bows about their necks this morning, which looked lovely, but sent Weenie on a rampage. She hates ribbons and started quite a fuss. MacDougal removed what was left of the bows and took them all for a walk to settle them.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yes, Charlotte is very sorry for her behavior. By the way, after adding the wagers I received this morning, I must say that you seem heavily favored to win.”

Miss Isobel beamed. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“You are taking wagers?” Sin asked Aunt Margaret.

“Yes, on the archery contest we’ve planned for this afternoon.”

“I’d heard about that.” He turned to Rose. “I’ve half a mind to challenge you to an archery duel, Miss Balfour. I believe I could best you at that, too.”

“Too?” Miss Isobel’s gaze flickered between Rose and Sin. “In what other things have you bested Miss Balfour?”

“Getting soaked, for one.” Aunt Margaret took Miss Isobel’s arm and led her toward the small salon. “Sin, your tomfoolery will have to wait another day; the archery contest is for women only.”

Sin frowned. “But I wish to shoot, too.”

“The men are playing billiards,” she said airily. “I believe the vicar is coming and has some special cigars. Mr. Stewart was quite ecstatic about them.”

Sin tried not to glower, and failed. “And if I wish to participate anyway?”

“You can’t. The rules and contestants have already been set, and people are placing their wagers. You and Miss Balfour already caused enough of a jangle when you didn’t hold a proper race yesterday.
It took us an hour to return the funds for the wagers Mr. Stewart had collected, though we’re still short ten pounds. I don’t know what he could have done with it, but poor Mr. Munro accepted the loss with very good grace.”

Miss Isobel nodded. “Her grace is now our banker.”

“Yes, and I’m recording each wager, and keeping the money in a tin for safekeeping. Come, Miss Isobel!” The duchess tugged Miss Isobel into the salon and closed the doors firmly behind them.

“My,” Rose said, “that was a bit odd.”

“Yes, it was, even for Aunt Margaret.” He looked at the closed doors. “I wonder what she’s trying to do now. Or rather, what she’s trying to get
me
to do.”

Rose sent him a surprised look. “You think your aunt is attempting to manipulate you?”

“She never stops. The problem is more in deciphering her purpose, so I can thwart her.”

Rose chuckled. “You and your aunt have a very interesting relationship.”

“She tries to interfere, and I try to stop her. We’ve been having this dance since I first stepped into my father’s shoes at seventeen.”

The smile on Rose’s face fled. “That’s very young. What hap— I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even ask.”

He shrugged. “It happened a long time ago. My parents were killed in a carriage accident.” He wasn’t certain why he’d told her that; he could count on one
hand the number of people he’d spoken to about his parents’ deaths.

“I’m sorry. That must have been devastating. It’s difficult to lose a parent.”

There was something about the way she said it that gave him pause. His gaze narrowed on her and he noted the faint downward turn of her soft lips. It was only there for a second before she smiled politely, but it was enough. “You’ve lost a parent, too,” he said.

“My mother died when I was eleven. Father threw himself into working on his greenhouses, which left me with most of her household duties and the care of my two younger sisters.”

Just as I assumed the care of my two younger brothers when I was seventeen.
He knew the weight of that simple sentence and he found himself regarding her in a new light. “That’s a heavy burden for one so young.”

“I suppose so, but it’s never felt like it.”

He eyed her for a long moment. “That explains quite a bit.”

“Such as?”

“Such as why you’re always ordering me around.” It also explained why she flared to life when challenged. He’d been forced to grow up too quickly as well, thrust into a world filled with heavy responsibilities and cares. It had left him with an almost unquenchable thirst for excitement, one he recognized in Rose.

Sin suddenly realized that however he felt, Rose must feel it twice as strongly, as her childhood had been taken from her at an even younger age. At least he’d had a few years of joyful freedom before he’d been called back from school to step into his father’s shoes. A pang of sympathy hit him, but he frowned and quickly shoved it away. Rose deserved a lot of things, but not pity. Never that. No, she deserved fun, excitement, and the freedom to enjoy it without feeling the pull of responsibility—all of the things she’d been denied in her childhood.

He could arrange for some of those things now. Those things wouldn’t change the true circumstances of her life, but they could add a little spice to the thin gruel life had served her.

He grinned at her. “For the record, Balfour, not only do you attempt to order me around, but you’re damned high-handed in the way you do it, too.”

She bristled. “Well, you give quite as good as you get, so that sword cuts two ways.”

“I’m sure it does,” he agreed. “Now I know why you were in London with your aunt, and not a closer relative.”

“Aunt Lettice is my father’s oldest sister.” Rose made a face. “She didn’t relish bringing me out and only did so grudgingly. After our disaster at Lady MacAllister’s, she’s flatly refused to bring out either of my sisters, though she’d promised to do so.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“Yes. I feel very guilty about it and worry that they’ll be stuck in the countryside, with no options for their futures.”

She feels responsible for her sisters, much like I felt for my brothers.
Until this moment, he’d never considered what made Rose who she was. Now he’d been given a glimpse and he found that he wanted to know more. “It’s a pity you can’t get my great-aunt to take your sisters under her wing. She likes nothing more than finding wives and husbands for unsuspecting unmarried people.”

Her lips quirked. “I assume that you’re speaking from experience.”

“After I inherited my title, both my grandmother and Aunt Margaret made certain that neither I, nor my two brothers, had another day of peace.”

Rose grinned and then gave the closed door an arch look. “If the duchess is as scheming as you say, then we should see what she’s doing.”

“Yes, there’s no reason to let her weave her webs in peace.” Sin opened the door and then bowed. “After you.”

“Thank you.” Rose entered the parlor and Sin followed.

From the Diary of the Duchess of Roxburghe
There are times when I’m struck by my own brilliance. Today was one of those times.

The small parlor was beautiful. The walls were covered with colorful Chinese paper depicting a fanciful garden scene of flowers. Thick rose and gold rugs covered the floor, while a grouping of gold, feather-stuffed settees flanked a marble fireplace. Chairs and small tables were artfully placed to encourage conversation.

Lady Charlotte was seated at a small desk before a broad set of windows. Aunt Margaret, Miss Isobel, and Lady McFarlane were all clustered there, holding various amounts of money, eager expressions on their faces. They briefly looked up as Rose and Sin entered, and Aunt Margaret’s gaze narrowed before she turned back to Lady Charlotte.

“Two shillings for making a bull’s-eye,” Miss Isobel said.

“Which contestant?” Lady Charlotte asked.

“Myself.”

Lady Charlotte had started to hold out her hand for the coins, but stopped and looked up at Aunt Margaret. “Can she set a wager on herself?”

“I can bet
for
myself, but not against,” Miss Isobel said impatiently. “Isn’t that right, your grace?”

Margaret nodded with authority as if she’d been banker in numerous other gambling enterprises. “Of course.”

“Very well.” Lady Charlotte took Miss Isobel’s coins, counted them, stored them in a small tin box at her elbow, and then dipped her pin into an inkwell and made a mark in a large ledger. “There. You’re in the book.”

“What book?” Sin asked.

Aunt Margaret frowned. “The Roxburghe Betting Book.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“If you visited more often, there would be fewer surprises.”

Charlotte patted the book with visible enthusiasm. “It’s leather, just like the one at White’s gentlemen’s club.” At Sin’s astonished look she added, “Or so I’ve heard.”

“Hmm.”
What is Aunt Margaret into now?

Lady McFarlane leaned on her cane to place a dirty shilling and a bent penny on the desk beside the book. “I’ll put all of my money on dear Miss Muriella.”

Lady Charlotte made a show of counting the money, and then stored it in the tin box.

She started to enter the bet in the book, but Miss Isobel held up a hand. “Lady Charlotte, wait a moment. Lady McFarlane, I hate to see you lose your money.”

“I’m not going to lose it; I’m going to double it. The odds are two-to-one.”

“They’re that high because my sister isn’t very good. We often have tournaments at our home and the poor dear isn’t at fault, of course, but she can’t see very well and her aim is—”

“Ha! Trying to talk me out of my wager, are you?” Lady McFarlane waved a bony finger at Miss Isobel. “It won’t work. I’m rather good at wagers. I won two pounds just last month from Lord Poole. Lady Charlotte, please record my wager.” She gripped her cane and started hobbling toward the door. “I have my own reasons for wagering on Miss Muriella.”

Looking injured, Miss Isobel said, “Fine. I just thought you should know that she can barely see across a room, much less a target set at a distance.”

“I know what she can and can’t do, blast it.” Lady McFarlane paused in the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to claim a seat in the pavilion before the festivities begin.” With that, she hobbled out.

“I should get ready, too,” Miss Isobel said. “Thank you both for keeping track of our wagers.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Aunt Margaret said, and Sin was certain it was. No one loved being the center of attention more than his aunt.

Miss Isobel bobbed a curtsy and started to leave, though she paused before Rose. “Miss Balfour, of all those in the contest, your skills are the least known. Do you often shoot?”

“When time permits,” Rose said in a demure voice that anyone who knew her would realize was a complete sham.

Miss Isobel nodded. “We’ll see, then.”