Page 63 of Any Duke in a Storm

After being ushered into the adjacent salon, which Lisbeth noticed had been updated with plush furniture and soft, velvet drapes—Bronwyn’s touch, of course—she took a long sip of the duke’s excellent brandy and cleared her throat. “To start, Thorin is not really my fiancé. As to my whereabouts the last two years, well, that’s a tad more complicated. I bought a ship and sailed for the open ocean.”

“A liner?” Bronwyn asked, and Lisbeth shook her head. Bronwyn’s brother was the Duke of Ashvale who owned several luxury liners. She’d been on one herself at the start of Valentine’s and Bronwyn’s unconventional courtship.

“A frigate. TheSyren. She’s small and fast. I dabbled in goods and trade.”

Valentine sent her a sidelong glance. He would obviously know what dabbling meant, but he would also understand the need for discretion. He let out a low laugh. “Somehow, I can absolutely imagine you at the helm of a ship. Tell us more. How did you and Thorin cross paths?”

At their fascinated expressions, she opened her mouth to continue, but was forestalled by a very loud and equally obnoxious childish squeal that nearly made her ears ring.

“Blow me down, Cap’n, but this is the fanciest fucking house I’ve ever seen!”

Raphael gave his hat to the butler, taking in Narina’s awed expression with a smile. No doubt everyone in theresidence had heard her foulmouthed opinion, including the butler, but he did not even bat an eyelash. Raphael respected the man for that alone. “Le Duc de Viel, a friend of the countess,” he said. “And Miss Narina.”

“Your Grace, miss,” the butler greeted them with the barest twitch of his lips at the girl’s insufferable cheek, and Raphael blinked.Your Gracewas the formal address for dukes in England, unlikeMonsieur le Ducin France and French territories.

Narina frowned up at him. “Wait, you’re an actual duke?”

“You knew that. Everyone calls me Monsieur le Duc.”

She didn’t look convinced. “I thought that was a sodding joke.” She tugged on the lace collar of the pretty blue dress Raphael had sent Thorin’s quartermaster to procure. “I hate this. It itches. Why couldn’t I have worn my breeches? Pirates don’t wear dresses.”

“You’re not a pirate,” Raphael said. “And you stank. You needed a bath and clean clothes.”

“You smelled worse,” she replied in outrage and stuck out her tongue.

“Do allow me to announce you,” the butler interjected quickly, though by then he was fighting to hide his amusement. “The duke and duchess are in with the countess and her fiancé.”

Oh, forfuck’ssake. Now he wanted to bellow a few choice profanities as the butler announced them.

“Blimey,” Narina whispered as her eyes rounded, taking in the lavish salon. By most accounts, it was tasteful and modern, and certainly not ostentatious, but Raphaelsupposed that to her, it might seem impressive. When she noticed the people in the room, her jaw slackened and her normally confident mien wobbled. “Hullo,” she said shyly.

Lisbeth rose, graceful and exquisite, to take the girl’s hand. Seeing her in a drawing room was surreal…as if the woman he’d come to know was someone else entirely. Breeding was imbued in every line of her body, her face a study in refined elegance. “This is Narina. She’s my ward for the moment. Nari, these are my very dear friends, the Duke and Duchess of Thornbury. You may address them as Your Graces. Mind your manners.”

Narina gnawed her lips and clung to Lisbeth’s arm after doing a half-hearted curtsy. “Your Graces,” she mumbled.

Lastly, Lisbeth turned to him. “And this is de Viel, as Barnaby has said.”

That was new. She’d never called him by his titled name before…and it felt peculiar. As if they were pretending to be strangers meeting for the very first time. He supposed they were—he as a duke, and she as a countess. They both wore the outer trappings of peers, while on the inside, they were anything but. He caught her subtle glance at him, taking in the polished boots, tailored trousers, fitted silver-trimmed waistcoat, and navy coat. A cravat and diamond stickpin finished the ensemble. He might be mistaken but the color in her cheeks had heightened.

A throat cleared and he tore his gaze away from a very intrigued audience. The duchess, especially, scrutinized them with a speculative look in her eyes. The Duke and Duchess of Thornbury made a handsome couple,though the duke appeared to be some years older than his effervescent wife. They sat uncharacteristically close though, so maybe it was a love match. Those were rare in aristocratic circles.

“Thornbury,” he greeted. “Duchess, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He moved over to where Lisbeth stood and raised her knuckles to his mouth. “Countess.” It came out as a purr and he felt the slightest shiver roll through her. He deliberately ignored Thorin, knowing he’d be hard-pressed not to toss the smug cretin out the window.

The duke’s eyes narrowed. “I believe we might have already been introduced, de Viel. At least you seem quite familiar to me. In Paris perhaps?”

Raphael lifted a brow, wondering how and when he might have crossed paths with someone like Thornbury. He’d heard whispers that the man used to be a spy for the Crown, but that had to be speculation at best. Most of the British peerage would hardly deign to be spies. Then again, most of them wouldn’t be smugglers either, and there were two of those anomalies in the room. Three, if he counted Thorin, his shitsack of a best friend.

“I have not been back to France in years, I’m afraid.” He canted his head at the duchess. “However, I have had the pleasure of meeting your wonderful aunt, Your Grace, la Comtesse de Valois. She’s a firecracker.”

“That she is,” the duchess agreed. “But please, you must call me Bronwyn. The constant ‘Your Gracing’ istedious.” She let out a deprecating laugh. “And trust me, there will be enough of that in the days to come, if you’re planning to stay awhile. Our more affluent neighbors are rather obsessive about titles and social status.”

“Alas,” Lisbeth said, “it will be a quick trip. I need to get back to theSyren—my crew should already be here—and those two have their own business to attend to.”

Bronwyn pouted and then brightened as if she’d had a brilliant idea. “Then say you’ll at least all be here tomorrow night? There’s a masquerade ball, hosted by none other than Lina herself. We’ve accepted, but it would be so much more agreeable with you there.”

“CanIgo?” Narina piped up from where she sat, stuffing tea cake after tea cake into her mouth. Crumbs littered her dress that now had a tea stain on it. “I love dress up. I can be a pirate!”

“I doubt we would be welcomed at this juncture. She’s very fastidious about her guest list,” Lisbeth said and then shook her head at Narina. “No, love. You’re much too young.”

---