His Duchess (His and Hers 1)

“Ah, that sounds promising. Do tell.”

Victoria shook her head. “I do not think it would be wise to share those stories with you, my lady. Not that I think you are a gossip,” Victoria said with alarm. “I simply do not want to incur any more of the duke’s wrath.”

“More than one story? His wrath? My curiosity only increases,” the marchioness responded with raised eyebrows.

Victoria stared helplessly at her caller. Lady Northfield certainly deserved consideration as a friend but she could not bring herself to reveal the humiliating events.

“Oh, all right. I will pretend to not be disappointed,” Lady Northfield replied with a frown, contradicting her statement. “I do believe I understand your position. Just promise me that perhaps someday I can hear these delightful stories. I can only imagine how Taviston would respond to ‘inconveniences.’ He is quite the most proper man.”

“I promise to tell you someday, Lady Northfield.” Perhaps when they were ninety.

“Oh, do call me Jane, please.” The marchioness gave Victoria a radiant smile.

She returned it warmly. At last, a friend her own age. Hopefully this association with a member of the peerage would be free of singularly embarrassing moments.

Jane gave Arthur one last pat, gently pushed him to the floor, and rose. “I am thinking of hosting a dinner party in a week or so. I should be horribly disappointed if you couldn’t be there, Victoria.”

Rising as well, she answered, “I have already disappointed you once, Jane. I shouldn’t wish to do so again. I eagerly await your invitation.”

“Excellent! Now, I won’t keep you any longer.” She linked arms with Victoria, and they headed for the door. “Thank you for receiving me. I do hope to see you soon.”

Chapter Ten

Taviston stood immobile outside of Hookham’s for a full minute after Miss Forster stunned him with her words and her actions. She had been thinking about the color of his eyes? And then run off. The woman was an enigma wrapped in a luscious little package.

Today she had worn a thin pale green muslin gown with a darker green spencer over it. She had donned a bonnet, but it hadn’t covered her hair. Instead, it had hung down her back. The woman was a fashion conundrum. She looked perfectly presentable today; the green color suited her well. The dress was a little worn, but still it flattered her figure. Yet last night’s ball gown had been a catastrophe. Very odd.

To his consternation, he couldn’t stop thinking about that figure of hers. For such a small thing she was certainly well-endowed. A flare of lust shot through him.

Two days of outlandish behavior from her hadn’t yet dulled his untenable desire. Hell and damnation, this was no way to think about a proper young lady who was nevertheless in no way appropriate for him and the Duchy of Taviston.

With a start he realized he still stood in the middle of Bond Street, no doubt with unseemly carnality burning in his eyes, if anyone cared to look closely. Hookham’s employees were returning to the shop. He glanced down at the books in his hands and then strode back into the library, ahead of most of the other patrons. He located the book his mother had wanted and then checked out all three tomes.

Upon leaving the shop he decided to head over to White’s for an early dinner. His earlier jovial mood irritated him. He couldn’t rationalize his cheerfulness. Miss Forster had bumped into him at Hookham’s and he’d beamed at her like a lunatic. What was the matter with him? Why should one exasperating female put him in a happy mood? She was nothing to him.

He marched up the steps of White’s, dropped his books off at the cloakroom, and proceeded into the dining room. He took a seat at a small table and signaled a servant. Soon he had a glass of brandy within reach and had placed an order for roast beef.

“Well, well, well. How are you, dear brother?” Peyton dropped into the chair opposite Taviston and grinned across the table.

Taviston’s irritation swiftly shifted from Miss Forster to his brother. Peyton always made him feel that way. Despite that, he still held a measurable amount of affection for his brother and he tried to let his fondness overshadow his annoyance.

He summoned a smile. “Peyton, you scoundrel. What are you up to? Would you care to join me for dinner?”

“You know I would love nothing better. I can easily spend a solid hour trying to convince you to join me in some illicit amusement this evening.” Peyton’s shining blue eyes all but lit up the room. They were the same sparkling color as their mother’s and James’s.

Despite himself, Taviston chuckled. Peyton’s goal in life was to lure him into shedding some of his responsibility and indulging in all manner of improper and outrageous behavior. In contrast, Taviston aimed to make his next youngest brother more responsible and less disreputable. By Taviston’s account they had been working at these cross-purposes for at least twenty years. It was the backbone of their relationship.

Peyton gave his order to the waiter and then settled more comfortably in his seat.

“Did you hear of the uproar on Bond Street?”

Taviston felt his shoulders start to slump and quickly stiffened his spine. It wasn’t Miss Forster’s cat that was the menace, it was the lady herself.

“No, I haven’t heard a thing about it. What happened?”

He was getting very good at these spur-of-the-moment lies. His brother would be impressed, if only he knew.

Peyton took a sip of his brandy. “About an hour ago someone thought there was a fire in Hookham’s. The patrons spilled out into the street and halted traffic for quite some time. Oddly enough, there wasn’t any sign of fire at all.”