How to Seduce a Duke (12 page)

He reached a hand to his brother’s shoulder, but Quinn swatted it away.

“Why? Tell me why you did this?” Quinn looked straight into Rogan’s eyes. His own were glistening in the soft light from the house. “I was about to kiss Miss
Royle
—the gentlewoman I... I may marry someday... when you shoved me away and assaulted her!”

“I didn’t hurt her. I only kissed her. And I am fair certain she liked it.” He tried not to smile. Or mention that he might have rather enjoyed it as well. But he wasn’t the beast the
ton
believed him to be. He hadn’t kissed her to hurt his brother. No, when he’d kissed Miss
Royle
, it had been with the best of all intentions.

“Why, Rogan?” Quinn was overwrought, though he fought to hide it. “Why the hell did you do it?”

“Damn it all, Quinn. I did it to save you from the bloody parson’s mousetrap.”

Rogan walked to the marble bench and sank down upon it. He shoved his hand through his hair before looking up at Quinn again. “I was just returning from the back garden after a rather heated discussion with a gentleman who had been mistaken about my interest in his wife. That’s when I heard her
luring
you into a kiss.”

“She wasn’t luring me. She was inviting me to do something I wanted very much to do!”

“Sometimes you can be so naïve. But I am not. It was a trap, one you were eagerly stepping into.”

“It was no trap, Rogan.”

“But I was certain it was. You would take her into your arms and kiss her, and at once Lady
Upperton
and a pack of censorious society matrons would rush into the garden from the house, accusing you of ruining Miss
Royle
. And, being the good man, the honorable man you are, you would protect her by asking her to become
Viscountess
Wetherly
.”

Odd, Quinn wasn’t the least moved by his sacrifice. Instead, his brother’s cheeks glowed red and his chest heaved.
Bloody hell.
He looked even more furious now, if that was possible.

He just didn’t understand. And so, Rogan continued. “An honorable man would have no choice but to marry her. But society has dubbed me the Black Duke. I have a wicked reputation. No one could coerce me into a marriage by appealing to my honor—because as far as they are concerned, I have none. So you see, by kissing Miss
Royle
in your stead, I rescued you from a forced marriage.”

He smiled at Quinn then, hoping to defuse his brother’s anger. “You may thank me now if you like.”

“You are mad, Rogan. You’ve spent so many years blindly distrusting all women that you see a villainous motive behind the most innocent of kisses.”

Rogan exhaled hard. “You do not know women as I do. You place them upon a pedestal. But believe me, I know what they are truly capable of. I have seen her sort before. Many, many times before. Women who deceive, who use, who destroy—all to line their own purses with gold.”

“Deuce it, Rogan. She isn’t that sort of woman. Y-you do not know Miss
Royle
.”

“Nor do you! Do you not understand, Quinn? That is my entire point. You haven’t even known her name for more than an hour, and already you claim she may be a woman worthy of your heart.”

“Had I kissed her, the whole of
London
could have poured through the French windows demanding I marry her that very instant—and Rogan, I would have been glad to do it. I want to marry, Rogan. And she is a good woman, a virtuous woman with a kind, gentle soul.”

Rogan rubbed his cheek. “A gentle soul with one hell of a swing.”

“You deserved nothing less. I can only hope that one day you will realize that everyone’s heart is not as black as yours.”

“And you will learn, Brother, that I can read a woman faster than she can tell me her name. Miss
Royle
is
not
Quality.”

“She is. She possesses a grace that I have never witnessed before.”

“True, she dressed well enough this eve, which might give anyone who met her the impression that she hails from a good family, but I saw her earlier today. Saw her country frock and absurd bonnet. I saw who she really is—an opportunist, concerned only with your title and your full pockets.”

“You are wrong, Brother.” Quinn turned and charged for the house.

Rogan rose from the bench and called after him. “You will see, Quinn. You will see.”

When Rogan sat down to break his fast quite late the next morn, Quinn, dressed in a dark blue frock coat, had already filled his plate with bacon rashers, eggs, and bread, and was slowly sipping his coffee. He did not even seem to notice that Rogan had entered the room.

Quinn looked quite handsome, with his coat brushed, his
neckcloth
painstakingly tied, and his brass buttons sparkling as if they’d just been polished. This was not his brother’s usual day garb. Not at all. And this worried Rogan.

“Look at you, Quinn. You’re all the crack this morn, aren’t you lad?”
Hmm.
He was hoping for an explanation for Quinn’s fine garb, but his brother did not hurry to offer one.

In fact, Quinn said nothing at all.

Instead he munched on a thick slice of toasted bread smeared with a dollop of freshly churned butter.

“Come now, did I not apologize? If not, allow me to do it now. Dear brother, I vow I heartily regret kissing Miss
Royle
.”

“You do not regret it. You seek only to prove your belief—your
incorrect
belief, I might add—that Miss
Royle
wants nothing more than my fortune.”

Rogan filled his cup, then sipped his coffee noisily. “You must believe me when I tell you that I hope my assertion is a long stroll from the truth.”

“Well, it matters naught, Rogan.”

“No?”
Damn it all.
Quinn had set his thoughts on something, and Rogan had a good mind of what it might be.

“No, because I plan to call on Miss
Royle
early this afternoon to apologize for
your
barbaric actions at the
Browers
’ rout.” He fastened a smile to his mouth and looked pointedly at Rogan. “Then I shall make my way to

A jolt of worry blasted through Rogan, propelling his body up from the chair. “Quinn—”

He didn’t have even a modicum of an idea what he would say to dissuade his brother from this preposterous notion.

It was for this reason that when the butler,
Clovis
, entered with a letter atop a silver tray and headed straight for Quinn, Rogan closed his mouth and sat down again, grateful for a few more moments to craft his argument.

When Quinn noticed the butler, the fine skin at the outer corners of his eyes wrinkled and a look of confusion passed over his finely boned face. “Early for a letter, is it not?”

“Not so early, my lord.”
Clovis
raised the tray a little higher before Quinn, urging him to take it.

It suddenly struck Rogan that something was not as it should be. “Take the card, Quinn.”

Quinn peered at the cream-colored note on the tray. “I shall... finish my breakfast first, I think.”

What was this? Rogan rose from his chair. Even from his position across the table from his brother, he could see that the direction on the outside of the letter was written in a woman’s hand. Possibly Miss
Royle’s
?

Could that be the reason Quinn was apprehensive about opening it? Did he fear the card might contain instructions to refrain from seeing her again? After all, to her it might have appeared that Quinn, a war hero and all, had done nothing to stop his roguish brother from attacking her. Or, more likely, she’d found another deep-pocketed target later on at the rout.

Yes, yes. Fanciful thoughts. But the prospect of hearing an end to Miss
Royle’s
campaign to snare his brother’s ring made Rogan nearly giddy.

Still Quinn made no move to open the letter.

Bloody hell, Rogan could endure no longer. He had to know what was inside that letter. “I have eaten all I can manage this morn,” Rogan began, hoping Quinn would not notice his nearly full plate of food. “I shall read it aloud for you while you eat. After all, we have no secrets, do we, Brother?”

Before Quinn could reply, Rogan stole the card from the tray. He broke the gold wax wafer, unfolded the letter, glanced down the page and—
damn.

Not from Miss
Royle
.

“’Tis from Lady Tidwell.” Ah yes, his contingency scheme. But so soon? Now this was interesting. Rogan held the letter out to Quinn. “Surely you wish to read it.”

“Oh, very well. Give it to me.” Quinn brought the letter to his eyes and silently read for several seconds.

What was that he just saw? Rogan watched his brother intently for a reaction.
Could it be a hint of a smile? A glimmer of interest?

“How does Lady Tidwell?” Rogan asked. “I scarcely had two words with her. And it was her first venture into society after her mourning period ended, too. You spoke with her, didn’t you, Quinn?”

“I did.” He seemed quite distracted at the moment, which Rogan took to be a good omen. “Her brother, Lieutenant Spinner, has accepted a commission with another regiment. Only in Town for a short while. Seems he’s heading off to
India
in the morning. Good man, Spinner.”

Quinn looked up at Rogan, his face no longer cinched with worry but instead suffused with brightness and cheer. “We, uh, served together in
Toulouse
, you know.”

“Oh, did you? I hadn’t been aware.” But of course Rogan had been. In fact, it was Quinn’s close association with Lady Tidwell’s brother that made her the perfect choice as a distraction for Quinn.

“She has extended an invitation to me to dine with the two of them this afternoon... before he leaves.” Quinn lowered the letter to his lap, his eyes suddenly astray in thought. “I do so wish to accept, but—”

“But nothing!” Rogan took a step closer and slapped his brother’s back hard but good-naturedly, to snap him from his thoughts of calling upon Miss
Royle
instead. “I know where your mind is lingering. Look here. Accept Lady Tidwell’s invitation. You, yourself, commented on how short life can be, especially for a soldier.”

Quinn turned his gaze upward. Rogan’s point had been taken. “But after last night... I should—”

“Bloody hell, Quinn. If you must, if you absolutely must call on Miss
Royle
and Lady
Upperton
, you can do so after dinner—or better yet, tomorrow, when Miss
Royle
has had a chance to calm herself properly after my...
indiscretion.
”

“Yes, I suppose you could be right.” Quinn happily popped an apple wedge into his mouth and began to chew.

“That’s my man.” Rogan patted Quinn’s shoulder again, then quit the room and headed above stairs for his chamber.

He snapped his fingers at a nearby footman and asked him to summon his valet at once. He needed to look his best, for he had two very important calls to make right away.

First to Lady
Upperton
.

And then to the gel with the gleam of gold guineas in her eyes.

Miss
Royle
.

Mary lowered the spout of the chocolate pot over
Elizabeth
’s chipped, but perfectly serviceable, cup and began to pour.

Last night had certainly been the worst of her life. Never before had she been so humiliated. The Duke of Blackstone was a blackguard and should be locked away for the good of all women.

“Mary!”
Elizabeth
grabbed Mary’s hand and tilted the pot upright. “Where were your thoughts? For your mind was not on pouring. Look at the linen.”

“W-what did you say?”

Elizabeth
pointed her finger at her overflowing cup.

Criminy
.
There were the fat droplets of chocolate spotting the tablecloth too. “Oh dear. Let me fetch something to—”

“Never you mind, missy. I’ll take care of the spillage,” said Mrs.
Polkshank
, the cook and housekeeper whom Mary had engaged only two weeks before.

Mrs.
Polkshank
set down a plate of hot muffins on the table, and
Elizabeth
snatched one up. “Used to it, you know,” she told them. “The later the hour at the tavern, you see, the more spills there were, so I learned to be always prepared.”

Just as Anne entered the dining room, Mrs.
Polkshank
, who did not seem to concern herself with modesty, hoisted her pendulous right breast and snatched a homespun cloth from the waistband of her apron.

Anne stared in disgust as the cook dropped her breast back into place, wet the rag with the tip of her tongue, then began to dab away the chocolate stains.