Page 2 of Dangerous

“Yes, Your Grace, I understand.” All too well. Her father wished to have Mia off his hands before she did something so scandalous she would be unmarriageable.

“Very good, then.” The duke’s forehead reverted to its smooth, unlined state. “This ball tonight will be an excellent opportunity to further your acquaintance with several of the men who have expressed an interest in you. You need merely behave with decorum and enjoy yourself—ah, within reason, of course.” He patted her on the shoulder, returned to his chair, and resumed examining his ledger.

The audience was at an end.

Outside the duke’s study a pair of towering footmen stood sentry. One of them broke from his frozen state long enough to close the door behind her.

“Thank you,” Mia said, even though she knew it was not done to thank servants.

The man’s eyes remained fixed on some point over her left shoulder but a dull flush climbed up the muscular column of his throat.

Mia had been back in England for weeks but she was still distracted by the presence of attractive men who weren’t eunuchs. That fascination often worked both ways and she could feel the weight of curious eyes on her back as she made her way toward the library.

It was the same no matter whether she went to a shop or a ball or her family’s dining room; people were desperate to learn more about the Duke of Carlisle’s mysterious daughter. Her father’s servants, the crowds of strangers who waited for hours outside Carlisle House every day just to catch a glimpse of her, and, most especially, the men who wrote for the various scandal sheets available on every street corner in London.

Newspapermen couldn’t generate stories about her fast enough to satisfy their hungry readers. The most intrepid men had tried to get those stories firsthand. They had climbed into Mia’s carriage—once while it was still moving; hidden in the boot of the duke’s town coach; and sneaked into the fitting room at her favorite modiste. One enterprising man had even masqueraded as a female and secured a scullery maid position at Carlisle House.

The entire country clamored to know more about Mia’s mysterious past. Everyone, that was, except the members of her own family, who lived in a state of perpetual terror that she would do or say something horrific to push their family name beyond the pale.

Mia opened the library door and stopped. Her younger brother sat at the massive desk that dominated the far side of the book-lined room. Only the top of his head was visible above the teetering piles of books and papers. She stifled a groan. Was there nowhere in this enormous house she could be alone and think? She met her brother’s startled green eyes.

“I’m sorry, Cian. I did not know you were working. I will leave you to your studies.” She began backing out of the room but Cian leapt to his feet.

“Please, stay. I’d love your company.” He gestured to the mountain of books. “I’m having a wretched time thinking today.”

Mia sighed and closed the library door behind her.

“You think too much, Cian.” She crossed the gleaming expanse of dark wood between them and lowered herself onto the oxblood leather sofa across from his desk.

“So Father says.”

Mia grimaced. “Ah, Father.” She pulled on the ribbons that held her thin kid slippers to her ankles and kicked them off before tucking her feet beneath her. She looked up to find Cian staring and held up a hand. “Please, Brother, I have just come from one scolding. Do not give me another.”

Cian shook his head, the action causing a lock of auburn hair to fall over his brow. “I don’t give a rap how you sit, Mia. But you know Father does. You’d better get used to rakings if you insist on sitting that way.” He shifted a stack of books to one side to see her better. “But enough of that. Tell me, are you excited about tonight?”

“No.”

Cian laughed.

“I am not jesting. Tonight is just another opportunity for me to do or say something mortifying and draw Father’s censure.”

“Oh come, Mia. I’ve read nothing about you in the betting book at my club.” He grinned. “Not in the past week, at any rate.”

“Ha. Very amusing. I should think my behavior at the Charrings’ ball provided enough to fill several books.” Mia propped an elbow on the back of the settee and dropped her chin into her palm.

Cian’s smile faded. “You must forget about that, er, incident, Mia. I’ve not heard it mentioned in ages.”

That incident was Mia’s disastrous first ball. Mia thought her brother’s reassurance was naïve and optimistic. Just because men were no longer putting wagers in betting books did not mean the matter had been forgotten.

“In any event,” he continued. “I understand there will be numerous swains in attendance this evening.”

Her brother appeared determined to put the best face on an event that was no better than a public auction.

Mia shrugged. “Yes, there will be no undesirables at tonight’s dinner, only the finest pedigrees. After Father caught me talking to the scion of a coal magnate at the Powells’ soiree, I now understand that wealth derived from coal or textiles is considered detrimental to the bloodline. Imbecility, decrepitude, and foppery are, however, quite acceptable.”

Cian glanced at the door, as if somebody—the duke?—might be listening at the keyhole.

“My dear sister, you must curb your tongue if you are to catch even such men as fit those descriptions.”