Page 3 of A Virgin to Tame the Duke
Left with nowhere to go, she hurried deeper into the garden.
ChapterTwo
Aaron Brighton, the Duke of Hexham, strode through the crush at his ball. Of all things, these gatherings weren’t his favorite, but he had been determined to throw one to celebrate Constance’s wedding—and for the moment she had been with him, she had seemed as though she was enjoying it. Now, however, she was nowhere to be seen.
Her irritating friend, Lady Marcella, was still present, but Constance was gone. Frowning, Aaron left the ballroom, avoiding everyone who looked as though they would speak with him. If she was not at the ball, there was surely only one other place she could be. Her bedchamber.
“Constance,” he said as he entered, finding her in her dressing room staring soulfully at her reflection. “Why are you not downstairs, dancing?”
She turned, shock staining her cheeks red. “Are you angry with me?”
“Angry? Not at all, but I fail to see why you’ve fled the ball.” He examined the unnatural flush on her cheeks as he strolled to the sofa. “Unless, of course, you’re excited about the prospect of marrying an Earl. I told you I would find a good husband for you.”
She hesitated, just enough that he wondered if it was excitement, before her face relaxed into a smile. “You always see straight through me, Aaron.”
“I would call it a gift, but we both know I have altogether too many of those—adding another would be greedy.” When her smile didn’t widen, he leaned forward, bracing his weight on his elbows. “Are you sure you’re well?”
“It’s quite the thing to have a crowd downstairs all desperate to congratulate you on something you have done so little to accomplish.” She toyed with the hem of gloves. “I did notchooseto be born a Duke’s daughter, you know, and the Earl of Newtown hardly accepted me for my charms alone.”
Aaron’s frown returned. “The Earl of Newtown is besotted with you,” he said. “I could not have persuaded him to revoke his suit if I had tried.”
“Then I shall believe you,” she said with a light laugh. “And to be sure, it is good to know I shall be comfortable.”
“You know I would not have chosen someone who would not provide for you.”
She smiled softly. “I know that. You are very good to me, Brother.”
“As tothat, I can’t say, but I would like you to be happy, Con.”
“Then consider me happy.”
Their aunt, Octavia Brighton, stuck her head through the door. As usual, her gray hair was pinned elegantly behind her, and she wore a dress of finest silk. “Imagine my surprise when my dear Anastasia informed me that the two this ball has been thrown for are not in attendance,” she said, the tremor of a smile on her mouth. “Goodness, are you plotting? Ought I to be worried?”
“Never worried, Aunt,” Constance said with a laugh. “At least—you may worry about Aaron all you like. I fancy he will give you enough to worry about.”
Aaron rolled his eyes. “Wretch,” he said, but in this company, he didn’t mind her teasing. It was true he had a reputation, but it was also true that his title more than made up for it when it came to the subject of matrimony which was no doubt what his aunt was hoping to entice him into.
“You know, there are countless young ladies downstairs who are extremely keen to dance with the Duke of Hexham,” Octavia said, holding out her hand in invitation. “And I had hoped—perhaps foolishly—that the said Duke might oblige them.”
It had always been his intention to marry once he’d got Constance settled, but now the time had come, and he felt as little inclined to it as he had before her engagement. Still, there was nothing to do about it now. He would find some insipid Miss to be his wife who would change very little about his situation aside from providing him with an heir, and all would be well.
“Very well, Aunt,” he said, rising from his seat and giving a nod to Constance to indicate her presence was also required. “You have persuaded me.”
“There are some very pretty girls out this Season,” Constance said as they descended back to the ball. “I have no doubt you shall find at leastonewho may appeal.” Aaron resisted making the comment that what he looked for in a wife was not necessarily female charms or accomplishments but a stoic tendency to turn a blind eye to certain behaviors. Still, he would never say that to his innocent sister.
They reached the ballroom once more, and he released Constance’s arm. “Fear not,” he said, “I shall find them all exceedingly charming.”
Her lips twitched into a laugh. “You’re a brute,” she informed him.
“And that, my dear, is an insult I will only allow my sister to give.” Laughing, she turned away from him, and he gave his attention once more to the ballroom. As his aunt had said, there were many young ladies vying for his attention; when he bestowed a smile on one, a flock came running, and he was never in want of a partner.
As the evening went on, and he danced with more young ladies than he could count, he came to the conclusion that only one would suit his purpose: a Lady Roberta, whose steady demeanor convinced him she would not be the type to sit at home and waste away waiting for him to return. She also informed him, in a manner he found slightly condescending, that she detested social events of this nature.
Well, as Duchess, she would no doubt be expected to hold several social events, but hopefully she would find herself equal to the task and would not expect him to escort her to Almack’s every week.
“Are you enjoying your time in London?” Lady Roberta asked politely. She asked everything politely, apparently considering it a waste of time to deliver words in anything but calm collectedness. He would find no enthusiasm in her, but then, that was perfect; she would not entice him into making foolish decisions, and he would not disappoint her as she clearly had few expectations.
“Even more so now I’ve met you.”
