Page 14 of A Deviant Spinster for the Duke
Valeria stared down at the letter for a moment, tracing the ink of her name with her fingertips, admiring the elegant cursive of handwriting she did not recognize.
Turning it over, she broke the wax seal that bore Duncan’s crest, and opened the letter out, reading his words in the soft spring sunlight.
Dearest Dark Angel,
I garnered you an invitation to the Croston Ball. Be there at eight o’clock. I will send a carriage for you… and a gown. If we are to get you married, you must look the part of irresistible temptress. Do not argue.
I shall see you tomorrow.
Lockie.
She heard the laugh in every written word, sensed the glint of mischief in his unusually blue eyes, and thought it wise he had not delivered the message himself. It would have ruined her afternoon, for who was he—this stranger—to tell her what to do and what to wear?
Oh, I shall argue,she warned silently.You may count on that.
CHAPTER SIX
“If I did not know any better, I would think you were not listening to me.” A grating voice drew Duncan’s attention away from the grandfather clock on the periphery of the gaudy ballroom.
He had been watching the minute-hand creep further and further toward nine o’clock, irritation smoldering with each steady tick.
“What did you say?” he asked politely, glancing down at Phyllis Croston, the Duchess of Leven. “I confess, I was miles away.”
Her eye twitched. “I was just telling you about my dear daughter. You simplymustdance with her tonight, for she is quite the most beautiful woman in attendance. You would look so charming together, and your sweet brother always made a point of dancing with her. Indeed, you know it was my hope—and, I trust, your own parents’—that they would be wed.”
“Is that so?” He forced a smile onto his lips. “I had no notion that my parents were arranging marriages when my brother was just a boy. Was it while he was at Eton? It must have been; he used to tell me that letters would go missing all the time while he was away at school.”
Phyllis laughed awkwardly, uncertain of the jest. “It was more of a… verbal agreement, discussed at dinner parties and such. My husband would speak of it with your father. Duke to duke.”
“Ah, come now, you are not a foolish woman—you ought to know that all important matters should be made ironclad in writing,” Duncan replied lightly. “Otherwise, anyone could go around saying that betrothals had been made and engagements had been agreed upon. Of course, I do not thinkyouwould do such a thing.”
He darkened his gaze, letting his smile fade slowly, entirely aware of the effect it had. He could see the moment that Phyllis’ confidence waned, her eyes blinking more rapidly, her hand fidgeting with the ostentatious necklace at her throat. If she had not been wearing so much rouge on her cheeks, he was certain she would have blanched.
“Yes, quite. I can see how that might happen.” Her throat bobbed. “Goodness, I think I see an old friend. Please, excuse me.”
Duncan dipped his head. “Of course, madam.”
She would be back, he was convinced of that, but at least he would have some time without her breathing down his neck. It was a familiar back and forth, by that point—the Crostons thinking that their unwed daughter was somehow entitled to a duke, because she was a duke’s daughter, and her sister had married a duke. Duncan liked to remind them, now and then, that he did not agree.
As far as he was concerned, Iphigenia Croston would do well to marry the next eligible gentleman who asked, whether he was a prince or a gardener.
Yet, I do not feel that way about Miss Maxwell’s situation. Curious.He glanced back at the clock as it began to chime, muttering a rude word under his breath. She was an hour late and, knowing her, it was deliberate.
I wish my friends were here. Oh goodness, I cannot do this. I will be stared at. I will be mocked. I cannot do this. I should retreat at once.Panicking, her palms so clammy that her silk gloves were sticking to her skin, Valeria sank back on the squabs in the hope that the footmen would not notice she was there.
The gown that Duncan had sent to her residence fitted as if it had been precisely made for her, yet she had never felt more uncomfortable. It was too daring, too bright, too embellished, too tight in places, and not at all what she would have chosen to wear. Nor could she give Duncan the benefit of the doubt that he had selected it for that exact reason, because it wasnotwhatshe would have chosen, but rather because he had decided to toy with her.
It is an amusement for him, like his wretched flirtations. I wonder how many gowns he has bought for ladies over the years, to amuse himself. Must have cost him a fortune.She was under no illusions about his behavior toward her: a well-rehearsed script that usually ended with a woman falling for his charms, only to be cast aside for the next shiny thing. Maybe, that was why it did not fit her properly—the gown or his flirtations—for she was not interested in being another name to add to his collection.
“Mademoiselle?” A footman appeared at the carriage door. “Will you be joining us?”
Valeria groaned inwardly. “Yes, I will. Thank you.” She turned to the cook, who looked twice as uncomfortable in a borrowed gown. “I am eternally grateful, Mrs. Mitford.”
“No one in the village is going to believe this,” the cook murmured in reply, fanning herself furiously. “Are you certain that I’m not going to embarrass you?”
Valeria managed a real smile. “You could never embarrass me, Mrs. Mitford. Indeed, I think you shall make the most exemplary chaperone, and I insist you enjoy yourself. Eat all the delicious things, drink all the wonderful drinks, and perhaps you will imbibe enough to be able to forgive me for roping you into this.”
It had been a desperate necessity, for she could no longer validate enlisting the services of a chaperone, and with her mother gone and her father still away, he had not been able to accompany her. She could have asked her friends if they had not been in London, and she did not feel right summoning them all the way back from the capital, though she knew they would have come.
