Page 45 of An Inconvenient Duke

“Are you courting her?”

The directness of that question surprised him, and he hesitated to answer.

“Oh, come now!” Hartsham tapped his glass to Marcus’s shoulder as the earl turned to stare blatantly at Danielle. “No need to pretend humility. For heaven’s sake, look at her—a baron’s beautiful daughter. Gentlemen must be lined up a dozen deep at her door and fighting amongst themselves to call on her.” When the man raked a slow gaze over her, Marcus had to force down his rising hackles and not pummel him for daring to look at her so lecherously. “What man wouldn’t be willing to brag if he’d snagged the attentions of a woman like her?”

He raised the glass to his mouth to hide his scowl at the idea of men calling on her. And being received.

“I understand your reluctance to admit to it. If you do, you’ll be breaking the hearts of marriage-minded mamas across the empire.” Hartsham grinned as if the two men were university chums rather than practically strangers. “His Majesty’s Most Eligible going to the gallows of marriage!”

“Those women have nothing to fear,” he assured Hartsham. But even as he said that, Danielle turned her head to look fully at him, then frowned slightly, as if she knew the two men were talking about her. “Miss Williams’s tastes are too refined to find any lasting interest in an old soldier like me.”

The truth of that stung more than he wanted to admit. Discovering the truth about Elise’s death had brought them together. Once they had their answers, would they return to being nothing more than distant acquaintances? In just a short time, she’d filled an empty space in his life, and he wasn’t at all certain he wanted to let her go.

“I can help you find female companionship if the London ladies aren’t what you’re looking for,” Hartsham tossed out casually, gesturing a greeting over the heads of the crowd to two gentlemen who had arrived late to supper. “To quench any needs that might arise.”

Marcus’s lips twisted. Nothing ever changed. He might be hundreds of miles away from those suppers that he and other officers had shared at various Allied headquarters across the continent, but the after-dinner conversation among men proved to be just as crude here at Vauxhall. “You’re mistaken.” He smiled icily. “I have no need of a mistress.”

“Oh no, not a mistress. Nothing at all that tame!” Hartsham laughed and moved away, weaving his way through the crowd to personally greet the new arrivals.

Marcus frowned after the earl. If this was how his conversations would go with fellow peers, God help him.

Another troupe of acrobats tumbled past, snaring the attention of the guests inside the box. The crowd shifted, with the ladies maneuvering for better views at the railing and the men for new glasses of punch.

Excusing herself from the conversation, Danielle smiled brightly at no one in particular as she slowly circled the box toward him as if having no specific destination in mind except to pluck up a sugared orange slice from the tray of sweets on the sideboard. She nibbled at it casually, then smiled at him as she feigned surprise at unwittingly finding herself standing next to him.

Oh, she was good at navigating the perils of society’s unwritten rules of propriety. Another stark reminder of the differences between them.

When she stopped beside him and turned so that they stood shoulder to shoulder at the side of the box, his skin tingled at her nearness.

“Wonderful evening, isn’t it, Your Grace?” She kept her voice low, yet they still couldn’t speak openly. Not here, surrounded by people who were eager to overhear every word they shared.

“Very much so, Miss Williams. I trust that you enjoyed dinner.” As the daughter of a baron, order of precedence put them on opposite ends of the supper table, with several countesses and viscountesses between them. They hadn’t had the chance to speak privately all evening. “And all the entertainments that Vauxhall offers.”

She smiled apologetically as one of the ladies lingered so close to catch their conversation that she accidentally bumped into Danielle’s side. “Actually, I haven’t had a chance to venture out into the gardens yet tonight.”

“That’s a shame,” he commented, falling into a private language the eavesdroppers wouldn’t be able to understand. “You’ll certainly want to take a stroll along the alley before the fireworks start.”

“Yes,” she agreed, a breathless undertone in her voice indicating that she understood perfectly what he meant—he wanted a moment to speak with her outside the box. Alone. “I think I will.”

In an innocuous gesture, as if simply jostled by the crowd, she briefly rested her hand on his arm. But he felt her fingers give a quick squeeze into the muscle beneath his jacket sleeve. That small touch shot up his arm and straight into his chest.

Before any of the women pressing in around them could elbow their way into tagging along with Danielle when she left the box, she sidled up to Mrs. Slater, the wife of a wealthy mill owner and the woman who had sat next to her at dinner. According to Hartsham, Slater had been called away on business in Dover, yet he’d sent his wife and his apologies. Danielle leaned in to speak into the woman’s ear, ostensibly to be heard over the noise of the band marching past the box, but Marcus knew it was to keep from being overheard by the other nosey women lingering nearby. Then she gestured faintly toward the door.

Mrs. Slater nodded with a glance of her own in the direction of the door…until her eyes slid sideways to take a fleeting glance at Marcus. She froze for only a beat, then smiled.

Then the two women linked arms and entered into rapid conversation as they ambled toward the door, so rapid that no one else would be able to interrupt and invite themselves along on their stroll. They paused only to select masks from a pile on the table before slipping out the door.

As he watched the two women leave, Marcus took another sip of port to cover the knowing smile pulling at his lips. He had a new appreciation for the sharpness of Danielle’s mind. Of course she’d sought out Mrs. Slater, a woman whose position at the edge of thetonmade her less devoted to propriety. Danielle would have a proper chaperone for strolling through the gardens, yet one who knew to wander off at an opportune time so that the two of them would have the chance for a private conversation.

Marcus finished the port a few minutes later. When he stepped into the cool night air, he found the mask she’d left behind for him on the rear railing.

Grinning to himself, he snatched it up and sauntered down the alley after the women.

Fourteen

Mrs. Slater tightened her hold on Dani’s arm and slowed both of them almost to a stop as she pointed with excitement at a juggler who tossed flaming batons high into the air. “Look at that!”

“Amazing.” Dani smiled. It was the fifth time in as many yards that the older woman had stopped them since they’d left the box. But Dani knew that it wasn’t the performers that had captured her attention but a desire to go slowly to give Marcus time to catch up with them. Apparently, this wasn’t her first time acting as chaperone.