Forever Yours Series Bundle (Book 4-6)

He’d already written numerous arguments he would take to the house of Lords at the next sitting, addressing the need to improve workers’ lives and prospects amidst the new wave of industrialism sweeping the country.

Their meeting resumed as if his sister had not interrupted, but it was all a carefully construct

ed façade of business for Christopher. Inside he was being eaten alive with the need to see Miss Cavanaugh once more. Damn her. This time, no matter if she proved an enemy or a friend, he would kiss her…endlessly. If only to verify that the reality of her was nothing like he had been ardently dreaming. Maybe then, he would be able to place Miss Cavanaugh into sharp and logical perspective.

Chapter 8

It had been a terribly long three weeks since the night Pippa broke into the duke’s townhouse. She had not seen him in society since, but the wretched man lived in Pippa’s mind, and nothing she did would remove him.

Lady Rutherford’s midnight ball, an event Pippa had anticipated, was in full swing, and many daring ladies had been sneaking off to the gardens with known rakes, but Pippa had little interest in following for scandalous speculations. With a frustrated groan, she lifted the glass of champagne—her third—vowing to banish any warm, curious thoughts she had about the man.

Why do I think of you so much? He was a bounder, and she’d had her fill with trusting undeserving men and would not be foolish in leading her heart to pain and disappointment again. Still…. He’d given an expensive coat to a stranger. Could a bounder be so kind? He had escorted a thief to a hackney, paid her fare, and wished her a safe night. Most lords would have been so affronted, she would have probably spent the night in jail. Instead, they had played brilliant chess, drank whisky, smoked cigars, and chatted. And she’d wanted to kiss him…still did if she was being honest with her desires.

To what purpose?

Carlyle was in possession of great wealth and power, owning vast amounts of lands, tenants, and other properties. His reputation as it stood was spotless, despite her attacks. Society seemed to be in disbelief their saintly duke could be their current duke of speculation and controversy. If the Duke of Carlyle was interested in kissing a girl like her—as he had desperately claimed—it wasn’t because he would take her to be his wife. Pippa was far too inferior for him to even consider the notion. So the dratted man would only toy with her as he had done Miranda.

And that awareness made her angry and disappointed. Pippa owned another had never occupied her mind and dreams in such a manner. A blush heated her entire body, and she glanced around to see if anyone stared at her oddly. She worried for naught, no one was interested in the daughter of a disgraced lord standing on the sidelines watching everyone else dance.

Somehow, she had to prevent a repeat of the last few nights’ dream. She’d dreamed of one of the erotic images in the duke’s book. The one where the lady had been wantonly splayed on a chaise and the man’s face buried between her legs. But in Pippa’s dream, it had been her and the duke! Hours later Pippa was still mortified the man had invaded her slumber in such a manner, and not once but thrice. Clearly, she had her father’s lascivious and improper blood, and those who had whispered ‘blood will tell,’ had not been too far off the mark.

Her mother, appearing quite radiant tonight in a red gown with a crossover bodice boasting gold stripes cut on the bias, slid up to her. Pippa was grateful for the distraction. The flush in her mother’s cheek and the twinkle in her gray eyes were decidedly odd. Pippa stiffened when her mother cast a tender glance at Lord Janson, a widower who had only recently come out of mourning. Was he the reason her mother seemed so…happy? A smile touched the man’s lips, and to Pippa’s shock he winked…winked at her mother before turning away and heading out into the gardens.

Good heavens! What was happening? “Mamma?”

Her mother glanced at her, a silly smile painting her lips. “Yes, dear?”

“You’re more energetic than usual today.”

Her mother smiled wryly. “I have reason to be.”

What did that mean? “Why was Viscount Janson…winking at you?”

Her mamma inhaled sharply, her cheeks blooming a delightful pink. “I’m sure I have no notion of what you speak.” She snapped open her fan and started fanning herself.

Pippa had no idea what to say. But there was something there, those tender glances were not her imagination, and she’d developed a keen eye for these sorts of things. Worry curled through her. Mamma had been much devastated by her husband’s betrayal, and she’d always seemed so vulnerable to Pippa. Now, this viscount showed an evident interest, and his intentions could not be honorable. Not when all of society knew that mamma was still married, and a divorce was impossible to secure. What if he wanted her to be his mistress? The very idea of her mother driven so low was heart-breaking. A fresh surge of anger and hurt at her father’s action surged through her almost felling Pippa to her knees. “Mamma, please be careful,” she beseeched softly.

The baroness stared at her for several moments before squeezing her hand. “Graham is very kind and understanding. Not every man is a bounder and deserving of your mistrust.”

Oh dear, Graham? Pippa winced. How could mamma open her heart so easily after the man she had loved for over eighteen years betrayed her love and trust so horribly? “Mamma, please, promise me you shall be careful.”

“The Duke of Carlyle, the Marchioness of Andrews, and the Countess of Blagrove,” the butler announced.

Her heart lurched, and like many in the room, her attention turned to the entrance of the grand ballroom as the duke was announced with his sisters. Nervousness coursed through Pippa. Since she’d invaded his privacy, she had dreaded meeting the duke socially. Would he recognize that she was the same as his thief?

“My, how handsome he is,” her mother said appreciatively.

The duke was quite handsome indeed, dressed in dark trousers and jacket, snow white undershirt, a light blue waistcoat, and an immaculately tied cravat. Typical cut and style of clothing most fashionable gentlemen wore, but they fitted the duke’s frame with uncommon grace.

Pippa glanced about searching for her friend and almost cried when she spied a stricken Miranda staring at the duke. She closed her eyes before hurrying through the open terrace doors to the gardens. No doubt she would stay there until it was time to depart. Pippa would offer to leave with her now. “Mamma, I see Miranda in the gardens. I will check on her.”

The fan in her mother’s hand fluttered wildly. “I believe he is coming toward us!”

“Who?” Pippa glanced around and almost expired. It was the duke…and he was indeed heading directly to her with the hostess. Her heart became a roar in her ears, and her skin crawled as the people’s regard settled on her. He approached with their hostess, and Pippa was grateful for the sudden warmth of her mother who pressed closer to her.

“Miss Cavanaugh, His Grace, the Duke of Carlyle has asked for an introduction, and I am delighted to oblige,” said Lady Rutherford the hostess of tonight’s ball with curiosity alive in her brown eyes.

Struggling for equanimity, she ignored the thrill of excitement and the agony of nerves going through her veins. She dipped into an elegant curtsey quite aware of the shocked stares and the whispers already cresting through the ballroom. For once Pippa asked the same question as the throng, why had the duke approached her? Surely, he did not know? It was impossible. That night she had been in full disguise, and their first meeting had also been in a darkened library.