If the Duke Demands Page 17

  Miranda slumped back in her chair, her shoulders sagging. Which only made her feel even worse given how ramrod-straight Lady Jane sat on the other side of him. So she stiffened her spine, pulled back her shoulders, and once again missed the loose-fitting dresses she wore in the country.

  “The more daring ladies wear them behind their ears,” Robert piped up as he leaned over her shoulder and saw the flower resting on her palm. Only a few weeks ago, she would have been all aflutter to have him speak into her ear like this. But now, oddly enough, she felt not a single butterfly rise in her belly.

  But she didn’t let herself contemplate what that meant as she slipped the flower behind her ear. “Like this?”

  “Beautiful.” He gave her a smile, then jerked his thumb toward the pagoda. “Diana and I are going for ices. Want to come along?”

  What he meant was that they needed a chaperone. Her heart sank. A chaperone for another couple in love was the very last thing she wanted to be tonight.

  But a glance at Sebastian told her that she couldn’t bear to stay behind with him and Lady Jane either.

  She forced a smile. “Yes, I’ll come.”

  As Robert and Diana slipped from the box, Miranda rose from her chair and caught Sebastian readying to give her one more warning. But she raised her brow in silent challenge and walked out the door.

  Bustling with excitement and activity, the gardens were a wonderland of sights and sounds as she wandered into the busy alley after Robert and Diana. Within a matter of minutes, she’d lost sight of them in the crowd, but she wasn’t the least bit upset by that. Not when she had all of the pleasure gardens to explore, all the wonders to experience for herself now that she was freed from Sebastian’s leash. Besides, Diana and Robert were going for ices, which meant she’d eventually find them at the refreshments booths near the pagoda, at that point where the well-lit alleys gave way to the dark, close paths in the wooded acres away from the galleries and stages.

  Around her, finely dressed men and women strolled past, along with more daring persons wearing fancy dress and covering their faces with masks. Harlequins danced by. So did a troupe of puppeteers, working life-size puppets in their hands. Two acrobats, holding on to each other’s ankles, rolled past like a human hoop. A juggler tossed flaming batons high into the air, and two men on stilts chased each other down the alley. Everywhere around her came strains of music, all being played by different quartets and bands. There would be fireworks later, but as far as she was concerned, the colorful crowd was enough fireworks for her.

  As she approached the pagoda, she glimpsed Robert and Diana walking down one of the narrow paths leading into the dark trees. And decidedly not interested in fetching lemon ices. With a sigh, she hurried after them. If she was to be their chaperone, then she needed to stay with them whether they wanted her there or not. The last thing she needed was to give Sebastian any more ammunition to use against her.

  The path grew narrower and darker as she went. Although lanterns had been strung from the trees, someone had extinguished them, leaving the path mostly in darkness, and she picked her way carefully, knowing Robert and Diana couldn’t be too far in front. Up ahead where the path curved, she saw their two dark figures step into the bushes toward a small folly made to look like the tumbled ruins of a Greek temple. She followed. As she rounded the end of the ruined wall, she started to call out—

  Then Robert pulled Diana against him and kissed her. Not with the desperate urgency that Sebastian had kissed Miranda at the opera, but with such tenderness, such gentleness that her heart broke.

  Rather, it should have broken. After all, Robert was the man she’d wanted for years. So why wasn’t she bothered as much as she should have been to see him kissing another woman? Was it possible that she didn’t love him anymore? Or that she’d never truly loved him at all?

  Oh, it hurt, she couldn’t deny that. Letting go of a dream she’d chased for so many years was painful, but not the blinding pain she should have felt, the raging jealousy, the sorrow so fierce it should have buckled her knees and sent her to the ground. Wasn’t that what all the poets claimed a broken heart felt like? Utter desolation?

  Instead, all she felt was grief at losing her dream, and a sense of finality. As if she’d known all along that this was how her pursuit of him would end.

  And an odd blossoming of relief.

  Needing time and space to think, she ducked behind the wall before they could see her. She paused, leaning against the cold stone to breathe deep and force down her utter shock at not being…well, utterly shocked.

  Then she heard them, at first just low whispers as her ears took a moment to adjust to the quiet, sort through the sounds, and realize what they were talking about…Her.

  “She fancies Trent,” Diana said, her quiet words making Miranda’s heart skip.

  “Miranda?” Surprise rang through Robert’s voice, and for a moment, he forgot to speak quietly. “Impossible.”

  “I just think, the way she looks at him sometimes…”

  “Miranda’s like a little sister. All of us think of her that way. Especially Seb.”

  Squeezing her eyes shut, Miranda pressed her hand against her chest. Surprisingly, that did hurt. A great deal.

  “Anyway, he’s set on Lady Jane,” Robert continued. “He needs a duchess. Miranda can never be that for him.”

  And that was simply agonizing, even though she knew it was true.

  “Trent doesn’t love Lady Jane,” Diana said softly. “There’s nothing in his eyes when he looks at her, and she can’t keep his attention. But when he looks at Miranda, there’s all kinds of fire.”

  “Because he wants to throttle her,” Robert teased.

  “No,” Diana chastised, one woman defending another, and a guilty pang struck Miranda that she had been resentful of Diana for stealing Robert’s attention. She’d never given the woman a chance, and now she regretted it. “He cares for her. He gave her that flower tonight.”

  A faint smile tugged at her lips as Miranda reached up to touch the paper rose still tucked behind her ear. Yes, he had given her that rose, and the way he’d given it to her made it even more special. Oh, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Sebastian cared about her, not the way Diana meant. But he did care enough to apologize.

  “Means nothing,” Robert assured her. “They’re a ha’penny each from the beggar woman who sells them behind the galleries as souvenirs.”

  With her heart tearing, Miranda slowly pulled down the flower and stared at it. In the dim shadows, the red paper petals showed black. She didn’t care that it was only a cheap souvenir; it was the thought that was important, and Sebastian had made a special trip out of the box to buy it for her.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Diana protested softly. “He still gave it to her. It was romantic.”

  “That wasn’t romance,” Robert corrected. “That was bribery because he needs her to behave around Lady Jane.”

  A painful stab sliced through her. Bribery…not an apology after all. The realization burned as if her heart had been ripped from her chest, replaced by a hollow of hot humiliation and anger. All she could do was lean against the stone to keep her knees from giving out beneath her and remember to breathe.

  Oh God, how it hurt! She pressed her hand hard against her chest to fight back the rising anguish flooding through her, but it was no use. Her entire season had been nothing but one mistake after another, and the biggest mistake of all…

  Miranda stared down at the dark flower. A drop of water fell onto one of the petals, soaking into the paper and running the dye. Only then did she realize that she was crying.

  “Robert, I’m serious. I truly think your brother is attracted to her.”

  “Miranda Hodgkins is nothing more than a family friend. She’s the last person my brother would want.”

  Her hand folded around the paper rose, crushing it against her palm. She shoved the unwanted flower into her pocket as she turned and walked away.

/>   * * *

  Sebastian frowned as he glanced down the alley toward the pagoda. He hadn’t realized that fetching ices could take so long.

  After being gone nearly half an hour, the others hadn’t yet returned, and he was beginning to worry. Although Miranda was with Robert and Miss Morgan, he knew Miranda well enough to know that she could find trouble locked up alone in an empty room. Letting her run loose at Vauxhall was deadly. Pandora’s curiosity got her into less trouble than what Miranda could be capable of committing here.

  At least he’d made good use of their absence to speak with Lady Jane. But frustratingly, the conversation with Jane was not nearly as interesting as the ones he’d shared with Miranda. When he’d attempted a decidedly flirtatious one, Jane didn’t notice any of the entendres and sexual undercurrents. Or if she had, she hadn’t dared seize on any of them.

  A new worry blossomed inside him that he didn’t find Lady Jane alluring. Sophisticated, yes. Beautiful and refined, certainly. But inspiring…not at all. And doubly unfortunate, he realized as he exhaled a long breath, neither inspiring sexually nor intellectually. He doubted that she would ever offer an unguarded opinion or argue with him about anything, especially Milton or Shakespeare.

  Perhaps, though, his lack of interest was because they hadn’t had the chance to be alone. Surely, if he were conscious of the eyes watching the two of them, then so was she, and as a well-mannered society daughter, she knew to conduct herself with reserve when in the public eye.

  The answer was simple. He needed time with her in private.

  “Would you care to join me for a stroll through the garden?” He extended his hand as he stood. “Perhaps we’ll find the others.”

  “A lovely idea, Trent.” With a pleased smile, she put her hand into his and rose gracefully to her feet. Everything Jane did was graceful. And proper. Which was why she motioned for the woman who’d accompanied her this evening to serve as chaperone. The dour woman, dressed in brown worsted wool, rose from her chair in the corner of the box and followed them out into the night.

  The woman was certainly a good ladies’ companion, Sebastian noted, because less than ten minutes later and just as they were reaching the close paths in the woods, she was gone from sight, separated from them in the crowd. So good, in fact, that he knew she would be gone as long as they were, only to be waiting near the box door when they returned.

  A very convenient separation, and one Jane must have arranged with the woman prior to setting out for the evening in hopes of time alone with him. Exactly what he wanted as well, and relief warmed inside him at the similarity of their thoughts. More—being willing to be alone with him also meant she was amenable to marriage.

  Jane didn’t protest as he guided her into the wilderness of the close paths, where the lanterns had been extinguished—if ever lit in the first place. The darkness gave privacy for the pleasures that had earned Vauxhall’s woods its sordid reputation.

  “You’re distracted this evening, Trent,” she commented softly.

  Sebastian bit back the fierce urge to disagree, offering instead, “My apologies.” Because the truth was that he was distracted this evening.

  This evening? He almost laughed. He’d been distracted since the night of his mother’s birthday party at Chestnut Hill. And that distraction took the form of a petite strawberry blonde who always seemed to pop up in places she shouldn’t, arousing him to madness. In the two days since Miranda made her operatic debut, the attention she’d garnered had only intensified. Men of all social ranks were calling on her. She’d become the talk of the season. He couldn’t walk into White’s without someone asking about her, and invitations from the ladies of the ton were arriving in a stream for her. So were the gentlemen callers.

  While his mother assured him that the sudden attention was harmless, the truth was that Sebastian didn’t like it. Not at all.

  But what could he do except follow his mother’s wishes and allow gentlemen to call on her? He had no claim to her, nor ever would. That fit of madness that had him nearly seducing Miranda backstage at the opera was only that—madness to think that he could be with a woman because of the way she made him feel about himself. Because she made him laugh and challenged him intellectually. Because when he was with her he forgot about all the pressures of the dukedom resting on his shoulders and could simply be himself.

  But being himself was being the duke, at every moment. The sooner he resigned himself to that fate, the better. And he’d never again be bothered with the madness of wanting to be someone he could no longer be.

  “It’s been a bit of a trying season,” he explained, although downright frustrating was more accurate. In everything, he tried to remember the promise he made to his father to always put the dukedom first, especially with the women he associated with. But Miranda had completely turned his world on end. When he wasn’t longing to spend time with her, he was riddled with guilt about the way he behaved whenever he was with her. What would Father have thought of him that every time they were alone together he nearly ruined her? That certainly wasn’t the duke his father expected him to be.

  “I’m certain it has been difficult for you,” she agreed. Then, after a pause, “Miss Hodgkins is the talk of the ton. I can understand how she could be distracting.”

  “Oh?” He shot her a sideways glance. What the hell did Jane mean by that? Was she insulting Miranda?

  But she smiled at him with patient understanding for his situation, not a drop of animosity visible in her. “You’re so busy this season—Parliament, your duties to your mother and sister, trying to keep your brothers in line…and now Miss Hodgkins. It’s a wonder you’ve got time for me at all.” She touched his arm in a sympathetic gesture. “So I certainly don’t fault you for being distracted with all that you have to manage, and I hope you don’t think that I do.”

  The tension eased from his shoulders. Thank God Jane understood all his responsibilities. Another reason that she was a good choice to be his duchess. “Thank you.”

  She pulled at her long gloves. Every inch of her was fashion plate perfection, right down to the bows on her satin shoes. “Yet she’s become the favorite subject of this season’s on dit. It seems that her…exuberance is all anyone wants to talk about.”

  He bristled in Miranda’s defense. “She’s simply enjoying herself, that’s all. Her parents both died when she was a little girl, and her aunt and uncle who raised her had no children of their own.” So they’d had no idea what to do with her, between overly strict tutors and letting her run wild with the Carlisles, and neither extreme was good for her. But during this season, so far she’d managed herself quite well. “She’s just trying to find her way.”

  “I hope for your sake that she finds it soon.”

  Something about her tone struck him as icy. So did her lack of sympathetic comment on Miranda’s past. “She will,” he assured her, attributing her tone to not yet knowing Miranda well. “And I’m grateful you haven’t let the gossip chase you away.”

  She smiled up at him. “I would never let another woman decide my suitors for me.”

  Her suitor. He wanted to be just that, so why didn’t he feel especially thrilled when she said it? In fact, after spending the evening at her side, he felt nothing for Jane beyond pleasant companionship. And that had to change if he was going to make her his wife.

  When they reached a spot along the path where a vine-covered bower sat secluded amid the shadows, he led her beneath its arch.

  “Will this do?” he asked.

  She was sharp when it came to the sexual politics of the ton. There was no point in dissembling with her over why he’d led her here, just far enough down the path to give them seclusion yet not so far as to put her reputation in jeopardy. There would certainly be no seduction tonight, but enough intimacies could be shared to put to rest the unease in his mind about whether he and Jane suited. They had to. Not only did he need an heir, but he had no plans to ever go outside his marriage. The woman h
e married had to be everything to him…companion, counselor, lover. He would settle for nothing less.

  “Perfectly,” she murmured. Lifting her arms to encircle his neck, she gave that same demure smile she’d worn all night.

  Suddenly, he was struck by an urge to put another expression on her face, one of passion and arousal. That same foggy-confused look of pleasure and need that came over Miranda’s features whenever he kissed her. He cupped Jane’s face between his hands and lowered his mouth to kiss her. He hoped to taste on her lips that vanilla-sweet flavor he’d recently come to crave, to tease the same eager response from her that flamed from Miranda every time he touched her.

  With a sigh, she softened her mouth and returned the kiss, her lips meeting his with a well-practiced technique that told him she’d kissed many men in dark gardens before him. But as he kissed her, waiting for the passion to spark between them, he felt nothing. That same pulsing desire he experienced whenever he caught a whiff of rosewater, that familiar tightening low in his gut…all that was missing. He’d felt it with Miranda, for God’s sake, so surely he should feel it with Jane.

  But nothing. No passion, no fire. No desperate, nearly overwhelming desire to lose himself, body and soul, inside her.

  Nothing.

  Oh, her kiss was nice. She had a soft, kissable mouth, and she made no move to stop him as he coaxed apart her lips with his tongue and slipped inside, attempting to draw from her a moan of pleasure or a whimper of need. Any kind of reaction that showed she enjoyed being in his arms or that would heighten his arousal for her the way Miranda’s soft mewlings sent his blood boiling. Although she returned the kiss, her mouth tasted nothing of the greedy hunger he wanted from her, her body not melting into his. The experience was not unpleasant, just…empty.