Page 50 of If the Duke Demands

A new worry blossomed inside him that he didn’t find Lady Jane alluring. Sophisticated, yes. Beautiful and refined, certainly. Butinspiring…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, ifhewere 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.EverythingJane 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 hewasdistracted 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 thetonwere 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 himselfwasbeing 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?Thatcertainly 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 theton. 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’son dit. It seems that her…exuberanceis 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 theton. 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 he 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.