Page 67 of Defending the Duke (The St. Clairs 4)

“No, Anthony is right,” Hannah said. “Let Brixley work for me.”

A gentleman came and claimed Hannah for the first dance and led her away.

“Has your first dance been taken?” he asked his wife.

“None have, Your Grace,” she replied, her smile flirtatious now.

“Then I suppose I can have them all.”

“That’s not really—”

“Remember, Duchess, that I am a duke. If I want to dance with my wife once, thrice, or twenty times tonight, I will do as I please.”

Laughter bubbled up from her. “Yes, Duke. Whatever you say.”

He didn’t take every dance, knowing it wouldn’t be fair to monopolize her in such a manner. Anthony did dance several times with her, though. At one point, he watched her being twirled about on the dance floor. His aunt joined him.

“You’ve been quite kind to Hannah recently.”

“I feel protective of my sister,” he said, his eyes never leaving his wife. “I want her to make a good match. This Brixley fellow seems a decent sort.”

“He is.” She paused. “Family seems to be growing on you, Anthony.”

He faced her. “Laurel is growing on me.”

Anthony went to the card room for a while and then decided to return to the ballroom and dance again with his duchess. He spotted her and immediately knew something was wrong. She was surrounded by several older women. Two were the nosy pair who had caught them kissing on the terrace that night at Everton’s. From the look on Laurel’s face and the color in her cheeks, the women were on the attack.

As he reached them, his wife said, “You are cruel, vindictive women. My husband is the very best of men.”

“He was forced to wed you,” one said. “I’m sure he wasn’t pleased being stuck with a bastard, half-sister to Everton when he could have done much better.”

Fury filled him. He knew he couldn’t strike a lady but he had to rescue Laurel and put an end to this attack.

“Actually, Linfield is most pleased with me,” Laurel said calmly. “And I with him. You’re wrong about him, Lady Chatham. My husband is not cold. He is a warm, kindhearted man. One whom I am proud to be a wife to. He is a war hero—but he’s also my hero. He rescued me when I didn’t know I even needed rescuing.”

Anthony stepped to her and slipped his arm about her waist. “There you are, my love. Are you ready to leave?” He looked deep into her eyes, letting her know he had overheard what had been said.

“Yes,” she said, her head high.

“Good. Because I cannot wait to have you in my bed.”

The women in the circle audibly gasped, which is exactly the reaction he had wanted from them. Anthony tore his eyes from Laurel and gazed about the circle.

“This is the last time any of you will ever address my duchess. You are nothing more than a bunch of spiteful, malevolent, dried-up gossips, spreading your malicious rumors. I’ve never seen a more savage, heartless, unkind group of women in my entire life.”

The women’s fear was obvious from the look of terror on their faces as they absorbed his words.

“As the Duke of Linfield, I wield power you can only begin to imagine. As of this moment, I will never recognize any of you. Neither will anyone in my family, as well as the Duke of Everton’s, my wife’s family. You officially have received my cut direct. I warn you—never cross my path or that of my duchess. If you do, you will regret it. If I hear that even one of you have mentioned my wife’s name to someone else, I will destroy not only that person and her family—but all those present here and those families.”

Anthony saw the group of ruthless biddies quaked in fear.

Then calmly, he added, “I’m sorry to take my duchess away from you, ladies. I simply cannot get enough of this woman. She has my heart and soul.”

Briefly, he touched his mouth to hers, knowing it would cause a flurry of gossip.

Without another word, he led her away. He signaled to his aunt and she touched Hannah’s shoulder and began crossing the ballroom to join them.

“You have started a new scandal, Anthony,” Laurel said quietly.

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