The Duke's Cinderella Bride (14 page)

How could it be that his slightest touch made her feel this way? The touch of a man who, when he was not making love to her, provoked her to such feelings of antagonism at his arrogance that she argued with him constantly?

Jane did not have the worldly experience to answer these questions herself. Neither did she have someone to whom she could voice these questions—no one in whom she could confide. She certainly could not tell Arabella of the unimaginable longings that surged up inside her whenever the Duke—Arabella’s own brother—touched her!

It did not help that he seemed to be taking an age—or possibly it just seemed that way to her sensitised flesh?—to secure the clasp. Jane was starting to feel slightly lightheaded, and she found it difficult to breathe…

This had not been one of his better ideas, Hawk acknowledged with self-disgust as the gentle arch of Jane’s nape, the soft perfume of her hair, her very closeness, all seemed to cause him more physical discomfort than he would have wished.

‘There,’ he rasped dismissively, as the catch finally caught and he could step back from Jane’s disturbing proximity.

‘Oh, they really are perfect on you, Jane!’ Arabella
moved forward to clasp Jane’s hands in her own as she looked at her admiringly. ‘You have exquisite taste, Hawk,’ his sister added, with what Hawk realised was the first genuine smile she had directed at him in some time.

Even so, it was a smile that Hawk had no chance to respond to, because Jane turned to face him and all of his attention became transfixed on her.

The delicate cream-coloured pearls nestled softly against the swell of her breasts, visible above the low neckline of her new gown. Breasts which gently rose and fell as she breathed, causing Hawk’s jaw to clench and his mouth to tighten. He could not seem to take his gaze from her rounded softness.

The Duke looked so grim, Jane noted regretfully, as she moved one of her hands to touch the pearls at her throat. ‘Perhaps…’ she began, her voice husky. ‘Perhaps now that you have seen the pearls again, Your Grace, you would prefer it if I was not to wear them?’

They were his mother’s pearls, after all, and had once adorned the no doubt delicate throat of the Duchess of Stourbridge. As such it must surely seem like something of an insult to her memory for them now to be worn by a young woman whose irritating presence had been forced upon him.

A young woman who, although the Duke was not aware of it, did not even know the identity of her real father…

‘I hope you realise, Jane, just how insulting it is to even suggest that might be either Arabella’s feeling or my own!’ he rasped impatiently. ‘As Arabella has already assured you, the pearls complement your gown perfectly,’ he added with haughty dismissal, before
turning away. ‘Come, Arabella.’ He held out his arm to his sister. ‘It is time we went downstairs to await the arrival of your guests.’

Even as Jane inwardly acknowledged how well brother and sister looked together, both so tall and elegant, she could not help but feel disappointed—contrarily so!—that the Duke had made no particular comment on her own appearance. His only compliment had been upon how beautiful the new gown was, and how well the pearls looked with that gown. A gown that he himself had instructed to be chosen and which, in time, he would also pay for.

Despite Jane’s inner turmoil of emotion over the last few days, whenever she had recalled the way the Duke had kissed and caressed her, she had found Arabella’s excitement about her dinner party infectious. Had even found herself looking forward to the occasion almost as much as the young hostess.

But now Jane had been reminded of the fact that the gown she wore was not really hers—that the pearl jewellery was only on loan to her for the evening. She was, in effect, merely a cuckoo in borrowed plumage.

She bowed her head. ‘I will join you both downstairs shortly. I—I have the earbobs to put on yet,’ she excused lightly, when she saw that Arabella was about to protest her need for delay. ‘I assure you that I will not be long, Arabella,’ she said warmly.

‘See that you are not, Jane.’ The Duke was the one to answer her stiffly as he escorted his sister to the door.

Jane waited until the two had left her bedchamber before moving to sit down in front of the mirrored dressing table.

The pearls
did
look well with the gown and Jane’s newly styled hair, but as she looked at her reflection she could find no pleasure in them. Could only look at herself and berate herself for a fool.

For she had made a great discovery about herself when the Duke had touched her and the warmth of his breath had softly caressed her nape. Had realised in the last few minutes, when her main emotion when she’d turned to face him had been deep hurt as he had looked and spoken to her with such coldness, that she was falling in love with the Duke of Stourbridge.

A man even more unsuitable for Jane to fall in love with—if that was possible!—than Jane’s real and married father had been for her mother…

H
awk was aware of Jane—as were several other pairs of male eyes—from the moment she stood, slightly hesitant, at the top of the sweeping staircase to stare down at the guests who had already arrived and were now milling about the entrance hall, chatting and laughing with friends they had not seen for several weeks or months.

For a few seconds Jane looked slightly overwhelmed by the prospect of meeting so many people, and then Hawk saw her bare shoulders straighten and her chin rise determinedly, before she held her head regally high and began her slow descent of the staircase.

She really did look magnificent this evening. The simplicity and colour of her gown gave her skin the creamy texture of velvet, and the deep red of her hair made her stand out from the other women in the room like a beautiful, exotic butterfly amidst less colourful moths.

Hawk was not even aware of making excuses to his guests as he began to cross the room to Jane’s side,
barely acknowledging the remarks addressed to him as he did so, the intensity of his gaze fixed firmly on Jane as she reached the bottom of the staircase.

But his gaze narrowed, his mouth thinning disapprovingly, when he realised, despite his own promptness, that another man had already stepped forward to take Jane’s hand in his own and raise it to his lips.

Justin Long, Earl of Whitney. The very last man Hawk would wish anywhere near a young woman under his protection!

A man who, the last time the two men had met, had made known his displeasure at being asked to relinquish his place in the Countess of Morefield’s bedchamber to Hawk.

It was so typical of Whitney that he had seen and at once sought out the only young lady present not already known to him! A young lady who surely could not help but be drawn to and flattered by the attentions of a man such as the rakishly handsome Earl of Whitney.

Would
Jane be flattered and attracted…?

The older man certainly had much to recommend him—and not only to the matchmaking mamas of Society. Oh, the Whitney estates were very wealthy ones, but it was Justin Long himself that the women of the ton seemed to find so fascinating. His blond good looks and rakish exploits seemed to challenge the interest of both old and young women alike.

Whitney had been a widower since his wife and young son had died of influenza twenty years ago, and since that time had displayed absolutely no inclination to repeat the marital experience. Neither did the man
show the slightest hesitation when it came to taking advantage of his boyish good looks, his ruthlessness where women were concerned was legendary.

And Jane did look very desirable this evening…

Hawk’s mouth tightened grimly as he moved forward to join them. ‘Whitney.’ His greeting was deliberately cool.

Whitney turned to look at him with amused blue eyes. ‘Stourbridge.’

Hawk bristled at his amusement. ‘The Countess has not accompanied you this evening?’ he challenged hardly, immediately knowing from the light of challenge that entered the other man’s gaze that he should not have done so. It had been extremely indiscreet on his part to so much as mention in front of Jane the woman who had been mistress to both men.

That he had done so Hawk knew was due solely to the fact that he was disturbed enough by Whitney’s interest in Jane to feel goaded into the challenge.

‘I believe that is now
your
privilege…?’ the Earl taunted.

Hawk eyed the older man coldly. ‘I have not seen the Countess for several months. I was not aware that you had been introduced to my ward, Miss Jane Smith…’ he added tersely.

‘Your ward?’ The older man raised his brows in surprise before returning his speculative blue gaze to Jane. ‘In that case perhaps you would care to make the introductions now, Stourbridge?’ he prompted dryly, as he continued to look at Jane.

Far too familiar for Hawk’s liking. But in his role of host this evening he had little choice but to comply.
‘Jane—may I present Justin Long, Earl of Whitney?’ he bit out harshly. ‘Whitney—my ward, Miss Jane Smith.’

‘My Lord.’ Jane inclined her head politely. ‘What a pity that your Countess was unable to accompany you this evening,’ she added lightly.

The Earl’s eyes glinted wickedly. ‘You misunderstood, my dear,’ he drawled. ‘It was not
my
Countess to whom Stourbridge alluded.’

‘Oh…’ Jane looked even more confused.

As well she might, Hawk acknowledged, as his narrowed gaze dared the older man to explain exactly whose Countess she was—or indeed had been!

Whitney ignored the challenge and instead bestowed his most charming smile on Jane. ‘I hope you will forgive any offence I may have caused earlier by speaking to you so impulsively, Miss Smith? I had thought this to be an evening spent amongst old friends and acquaintances, with none of the stuffy formality that invariably makes an evening with the ton so incredibly tedious.’

In truth, Jane had been slightly surprised, but not in the least offended, when this handsomely distinguished man had approached and spoken to her. In view of the nervousness she had felt as she descended the stairs, Jane’s principal emotion had been relief at having someone speak to her at all!

But she knew from just one glance at the Duke, as he looked so contemptuously down his arrogant nose at the older man, that he, at least, did not like or approve of at least one of his sister’s guests this evening.

And who exactly
was
the Countess the two men referred to so challengingly…?

‘I have taken no offence, My Lord,’ she assured the older man coolly, as she gently but firmly released the fingers he still held in his own. ‘And, never having spent an evening with the ton, I have no idea if their company be tedious or otherwise.’

‘No?’ The Earl’s eyes widened. ‘Where can you have been hiding Miss Smith until now, Stourbridge?’ he taunted the other man softly.

The Duke stiffened. ‘Miss Smith resided with relatives in the country until very recently.’

‘Really?’ The Earl still mocked the younger man. ‘And which part of the country would that have been, Miss Smith?’ His narrowed blue gaze returned to Jane.

‘It is surely of little consequence where Miss Smith once resided, Whitney, when it must be obvious she now resides here in Gloucestershire with my family,’ the Duke cut in harshly.

Jane was finding the intensity of the Earl’s gaze upon her more than a little disconcerting. The shrewdness in those blue eyes was a complete contradiction to the lazily mocking drawl he affected when speaking.

‘Of course,’ the Earl answered the other man dryly. ‘I was merely showing polite curiosity, that is all.’ He shrugged dismissively.

Despite the fact that the other man’s estates seemed to prosper, and his business interests to thrive, Hawk had always considered Whitney something of a wastrel—a man who spent his time in London, when not at the gambling tables, occupying the bed of one bored wife or another of his fellow peers.

He was certainly not a man Hawk could ever approve showing an interest in an innocent such as Jane!

Hawk reached out to lift Jane’s hand and place it firmly upon his arm. ‘I believe it is time for us to go in to dinner.’ He nodded his cool dismissal of the other man before turning away, the firmness of his hand over Jane’s leaving her no choice but to accompany him.

‘You will stay away from the Earl of Whitney for the remainder of the evening, Jane,’ he rasped grimly, once they had moved out of the Earl’s hearing. ‘Besides being far too old for you, the man is an obvious rake who is only interested in bedding a woman rather than wedding her!’

Jane gasped—both at the Duke’s arrogance in once again telling her what she should do, and at the indelicacy of his warning about the Earl. He almost made it sound as if she had deliberately set out to engage the other man’s interest.

Well, she might be inexperienced in the ways of men, but that did not mean Jane did not recognise a consummate flirt when she met one. Although, strangely, the Earl’s behaviour had not been in the least flirtatious with her until the Duke had appeared at her side…? But after days of not knowing exactly how she should behave towards the Duke since he had made love to her, she now found herself consumed with anger at the return of his high-handedness.

She also recognised that the apparent intensity of her conversation with the Duke was now attracting attention from Arabella’s other guests…

‘Surely you are mistaken, Your Grace?’ she said evenly, her expression deliberately serene in acknowledgement of those curious glances. ‘I thought it was the case that
all
titled gentlemen needed to marry and produce an heir?’

The Duke turned to scowl down the sharp blade of his arrogant nose at her. ‘It may have escaped your notice, Jane, but
I
have not yet chosen to do so.’

‘I am sure that is only because you have so far been too busy.’

‘My estates—’

‘I was not referring to work on your estates, Your Grace.’

His dark brows rose. ‘Then to what were you referring, Jane…?’

Her lips curved into a smile even as her eyes glowed with challenge. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at the age of…thirty…?’

‘One and thirty,’ Hawk supplied cautiously, sensing from Jane’s too-innocent demeanour that he was about to receive another one of her infamous setdowns.

‘Exactly.’ Jane nodded coolly. ‘I had assumed that the reason you are still unmarried at such an advanced age must be because you are far too busy interfering in other people’s lives to have time to attend to your own…’

For what had to be the second time in Jane’s company—or possibly the third?—Hawk found himself unable to repress the hard bark of laughter provoked by this woman’s wicked sense of humour.

At his own expense this time!

The unexpected laughter also served to dispel the tension he had been feeling since he first saw her in Whitney’s company.

‘Touché, Jane,’ he drawled dryly.

‘You are more than welcome, Your Grace,’ she returned pertly.

‘I never doubted for a moment that would be the
case.’ He nodded, still smiling, relieved that after days of awkwardness Jane at last seemed to be showing signs of returning to her more forthright self. ‘Perhaps you will now allow me the honour of escorting you in to dinner, Jane?’

Her brows rose. ‘Is there not some other, worthier lady present this evening, who is eagerly awaiting the Duke of Stourbridge’s attentions?’

Yes, Hawk knew that Lady Pamela Croft, the most highly raved lady in the room, and Whitney’s older sister, would be expecting him to escort her into dinner.

But, unlike that evening at Markham Park almost a week ago, when Hawk’s offer to take Jane in to dinner had been thwarted by Jane herself, Hawk felt no more inclined to bow to Society’s dictates than Whitney. At an evening ‘spent amongst old friends’ he could ignore rules of etiquette for once.

‘Perhaps,’ he dismissed arrogantly. ‘But none that I would rather have on my arm,’ he added distractedly, as his attention was drawn to the fact that a blushingly pretty Arabella had accepted being escorted into the dining room by a smugly triumphant-looking Earl of Whitney.

Damn the man.

First Jane. Now Arabella.

Surely he would not have to spend the entire evening fending off the other man’s attentions from one or the other?

‘If you are sure, Your Grace?’ Jane answered him huskily.

‘I am very sure, Jane,’ Hawk confirmed tersely, and he turned his gaze reluctantly away from Arabella and Whitney.

Jane’s hand trembled slightly as it rested on the Duke’s arm, and her face felt flushed as the other guests turned to watch the formidably arrogant Duke of Stourbridge escorting her, a young woman with whom none of them were as yet acquainted, through to the formal dining room.

Neither could she help but notice the narrowed blue gaze of the Earl of Whitney as he too turned to watch the two of them. It was an intense blue gaze that was fixed firmly on Jane. And, unless she was mistaken, not in the least rakishly.

She was aware of his shrewd gaze several times during dinner, but deliberately ignored it. The Earl even smiled at her in a frankly conspiratorial manner on one occasion, as if encouraging her to share with him the joke of such pompous formality. Jane did not so much as acknowledge the smile as she turned her attention to Lord Croft, where he sat to the left of her at the table.

The Duke presided over the head of the table, of course, with Arabella, as his hostess, seated at the other end. Arabella had placed Jane between Lord Croft and his son Jeremy. Both men were charming and affable as they easily put her at her ease. The younger man was especially attentive after learning that Jane had spent her early years in Somerset, proceeding to talk knowledgeably about the area from memories of his own visits there as a child.

But still Jane could not help but be aware of the intensity of the Earl of Whitney’s interest as he sat across the table from her, listening intently to her conversation rather than taking any part in it…

Hawk found his attention wandering constantly from the dry wit of Lady Pamela’s conversation. Instead he watched Jane with a brooding intensity. The fact that several other men were looking at her as intently, the Earl of Whitney and Jeremy Croft but two of them, caused his brows to draw together darkly.