Taming the Wild Duke

Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

S he’d offended him—without even saying a word, Lilian realized. Could someone with the Wild Duke’s reputation even be offended? Apparently, yes.

Lilian carefully avoided the Duke of Thorne’s eyes as he crossed the room, greeted her father, and then seated himself at the end of the table, next to the Earl. It was what she should have done in the first place. She had never been good at keeping what she really thought about a person hidden.

“You’ve been out riding, I presume,” Lord Munro was saying in a teasing tone, and Lilian risked a glance up to see Jane dimple at her betrothed and then turn a hasty eye toward the newcomer to gauge his response.

It was obvious enough that the Duke had been riding and riding hard. His tawny brown hair stood erect, obviously combed through by a generous amount of wind, and the faint scent of horse and leather clung about him. His starkly handsome face was slightly flushed, from the exertion, she supposed.

“Yes, yes. You know me,” the Duke grumbled. “Always out riding.” As if becoming aware of his appearance for the first time, he put a hand up and attempted to brush his hair into a more decorous arrangement with his fingers. He only succeeded in making it stand out at a wilder angle from his head.

In a way, Lilian thought wryly, it suited him. He looked barely domesticated as he sat at the tidy tea table. His broad shoulders were tense, and he continued to glower although she wasn’t sure he was aware of the expression. She could almost feel the waves of frustrated energy radiating from him. Why had he even stayed?

Jane caught Lilian’s eye across the table, her own eyes wide with amusement. Lilian shook her head slightly. She had told Jane that she needn’t be concerned about the Wild Duke’s reputation now that she and Lord Munro were betrothed, but that didn’t mean that Lilian wasn’t still wary of it herself. Lord Munro certainly couldn’t know the extent of the rumors that circulated about his friend, Lilian thought, or he wouldn’t invite him so casually to share his table.

“Allow me to regale you, Lady Jane,” Lord Munro continued, his tone amused, “with tales of what it is like to go riding with the Duke of Thorne. The last time I did so, I nearly broke my neck.”

“Your neck was perfectly safe,” the Duke growled, picking up one of the tiny tea sandwiches with passable decorum. “As I recall, it was the seat of your britches that took the brunt of that fall.” He cast a quick, canny glance at Lord Munro, seeming pleased by the slight flush that rose in the Earl’s face. Almost like he was paying him back for something, Lilian thought.

She startled as the Duke’s piercing green eyes suddenly shifted, meeting her appraising gaze with a defiant confidence that made her heart skip a beat. Now, it was her turn to blush as she ripped her stare away from him, returning it to her plate. She felt both embarrassed and angry to have been caught watching him, and she desperately hoped he would not comment on it.

“Oh, dear,” she heard Jane exclaim prettily. “Were you truly nearly injured when you fell, Lord Munro?”

At the same time, their father spoke to the Duke, his gentlemanly tone, as always, unaffected by his physical frailty. “I hear that Your Grace is a connoisseur of fine horseflesh,” the Earl commented.

Relieved to have the Duke’s attention drawn away from her, Lilian tried to focus on Lord Munro’s reply to Jane, but she found it weirdly impossible to ignore the Duke of Thorne’s smoldering presence at the end of the table.

“That’s true,” he replied to her father, and Lilian thought she picked up a hint of relief in his voice as well. “If you could only see the stallion I was riding this morning, my lord. The finest I’ve ever laid eyes on. Black as…”

Your honor? Lilian thought, smiling privately at her own attempt to amuse herself. Black as your infamy?

“…it was an impossible jump,” Lord Munro was telling Jane eagerly, “and yet I’d just seen with my own eyes Thorne sail over it on his second-rate nag.”

The Duke of Thorne chuckled, actually chuckled, at the slight, interrupting his own reply to Lilian’s father. “You’re a jealous bugger, Aaron,” he said calmly. “As well as a diverting storyteller.” Lord Munro held up his hands, widening his eyes in mock offense, and Jane’s surprised laughter rang like wind chimes.

Was Lilian the only one still uncomfortable with the Wild Duke’s presence at the table? Was she the only one noticing the impatience in his bearing and the way he disrupted the safely dull serenity they had all been enjoying before his abrupt intrusion? As Lord Munro hurried once again to his own defense, she took the opportunity to steal another glance in the Duke’s direction, intent on confirming her suspicions that he didn’t really want to be here.

To her surprise, she found the Duke of Thorne was not listening to Lord Munro either. Instead, he was watching her again. This time, the start that jolted through her body as their eyes met wasn’t entirely unpleasant, and this shocked her as much as anything. His eyes truly were the most striking color, she realized vaguely. They were sharp and alive and seemed to see everything about her before she had a chance to blink.

Since he was the one who had been caught staring this time, she found herself in less of a hurry to look away. She lifted her chin slightly, attempting to portray some of the same confidence he had evinced under her scrutiny. He didn’t look away either. Instead, he tilted his head and spoke. To her.

“What about you, Lady Lilian. Do you enjoy riding?”

“Riding?” She inwardly cursed herself the moment the word was out of her mouth. It made her sound positively empty-headed, as if she couldn’t follow a simple conversation. She hurried on, hoping that her misstep hadn’t been noticed. “I’m very fond of it, actually—when I have the time.”

“And what keeps you so busy you struggle to find the time for something you so enjoy?”

The question felt too direct, asked as it was with those sharp green eyes piercing into hers. It also felt somehow condescending, as if he truly couldn’t imagine what a woman would do with herself all day. Already flustered, Lilian found herself getting riled. It had been a long time since she had resorted to rudeness to extricate herself from an unwelcome exchange, but she found herself doing it now.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bore you with the recital of my mundane little life,” she said, giving him a smile full of blatantly false charm. “Please, I’d much rather we discuss your more interesting escapades.”

She had intended to refer to the tales Lord Munro had been telling about their adventures on horseback, but she saw immediately that the Duke of Thorne thought she was talking about the gossip that went around the ton about him. His green eyes narrowed, and his already sharply-defined jaw grew hard. She heard Jane’s sharp little intake of breath, and her father murmured, “Now, Lilian…”

“I would welcome such a discussion.” The Duke’s voice was as cool as his expression. His gaze did not falter from Lilian’s as he continued. “In fact, I came over here to discuss just such tales with the Lord Munro which is why I regretted to find him otherwise occupied.”

Lilian blinked. Had he just insulted her entire family? He had indirectly stated that he regretted finding them here, had he not? She felt her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and indignation as she stared back at him, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.

“Perhaps we should save that discussion for later this evening,” Lord Munro broke in. Lilian felt her chest loosen slightly as the Duke’s attention flicked to his friend. She followed his gaze just quickly enough to catch Lord Munro’s warning glare in the Wild Duke’s direction. Just as quickly, the Lord’s face returned to its accustomed smiling amiability. “Lady Jane wanted to go for a walk and see the orchards, didn’t you, Lady Jane?”

“Yes, that’s right!” Jane chirped. “Please, let’s.” She slipped her hand through Aaron’s arm and beamed up at him.

“I think I’ll stay behind by the fire,” the Earl commented. His gentle rumbling voice was an anchor to Lilian’s emotions. Studiously avoiding any further visual engagement with the Duke of Thorne, she stood and placed a hand under her father’s elbow, supporting him as he rose from the table.

“Very well, my lord,” Lord Munro said. “Please, make yourself comfortable. If you need anything at all, the servants will attend.”

“And if you need to go home, Father, have Marcus fetch the horses and go ahead,” Lilian said quietly. The Earl leaned rather more heavily than usual on her arm as she led him to an armchair by the fireplace. “I’m sure Lord Munro will be happy to lend Jane and me a carriage to get home.”

“I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable right here,” he said. His eyes caught hers as he patted hand affectionately. “You go along with Jane, and don’t worry yourself about me.”

Lilian nodded, stifling her desire to sigh outright at the prospect of the coming stroll. If she had her way, she would have stayed by the fire with her father rather than playing the third wheel to her sister’s courtship yet again. But her duty as a chaperone persisted for a few more weeks yet. She dropped a gentle kiss on the Earl’s graying head. Then, she straightened and turned to Aaron and Jane, who were waiting by the doorway, still arm in arm.

The Duke of Thorne cleared his throat. “Will you allow me to escort you on this walk, Lady Lilian?”

Lilian stiffened. It was the last thing she would have expected him to say. Her eyes flew to his face, looking for a contemptuous smirk that would give away his intention to insult her yet again. But though the Duke’s tawny brows were lowered rather belligerently over his sharp, green gaze, he appeared to be sincere in his offer.

“You don’t have to look so surprised,” he said brusquely. “I can be a gentleman.”

“So, it appears,” Lilian said. When she did not immediately leave her father’s side, the Duke stepped forward and offered his arm.

Still feeling unsure of how to react, Lilian found refuge in manners—in the accepted civility of the ton . She placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. The material was very fine for a riding jacket. Beneath its softness, she could feel rigid muscle. She did not dare look at Jane although she sensed both her sister’s and Lord Munro’s eyes upon them.

Is that why he’s doing this? she found herself wondering. To make up to Lord Munro for being rude earlier?

Well, if the Wild Duke could don a semblance of courtesy for the sake of the happy couple, she certainly could as well. The two of them fell in step as Jane and her betrothed turned to lead the way out of doors.

Just beyond the house was a garden with flowerbeds and hedges and neat white paths twisting through it in a complicated pattern. The Duke’s boots crunched on the white pebbles, and Lilian felt a strange start of dismay as she watched the hem of her dress brush across the toe of one of them.

She bit her lip, quickly lifting her eyes from the ground. The silence between them felt thick and heavy. Lilian knew it was up to her, as the woman, to try and ease it with some idle chatter, but she found herself disinclined to put herself out.

Eventually, it was the Duke who broke the silence, just as it grew almost comical in its intensity. “So, Lady Lilian,” he said succinctly, “it seems you have heard tales of me, but I fear I know very little about you. How is it our paths have never crossed in all the years our families have lived in this county?”

Lilian’s gaze stayed carefully fixed on the couple ahead of them. They had finally reached the orchard. Lord Munro and Jane strolled slowly between the rows of apple trees, their heads bent toward one another.

“I suppose it is simply because we orbit different suns, Your Grace,” she said at length. “And I am not out much. Especially…” She cut herself off. There was no need to divulge more to the Wild Duke than necessary.

“You like to read, don’t you?” he questioned.

This time, Lilian couldn’t keep her head from swinging around. She looked up at him, caught by surprise.

“I do, yes,” she said. “What makes you draw that conclusion?”

“Your word choice,” he said. “Anyone else would have said, ‘we move in different circles,’ but you changed it. You like words. You are intimately familiar with them. I’ll wager you read a good deal of poetry—and maybe write it as well.”

Lilian felt her face flush the moment he said the word, “intimately.” He studied her reaction, the corners of his mouth tipping upward. How had he guessed all of this about her so accurately—after just the slightest exchange? And why did he even care?

It occurred to her that the Wild Duke was trying to provoke some kind of reaction from her. It fit with the stories she’d heard—and it irritated her that he had almost succeeded. Yanking her gaze away from his, she tilted her head carelessly.

“Wager what you please, Your Grace,” she said sweetly. “You’ll win no confessions from me.”

The Duke laughed, a brief, surprised chuckle.

“Would you refuse even to share something you’ve read recently that interested you?” he asked after a moment. Lilian cast him a careful, sideways glance which he acknowledged with a shrug. “It’s what polite society does, is it not? And we’re being polite society today, are we not?”

Once again, Lilian was unsettled by the feeling that he was seeing things about her she usually managed to keep hidden. Or that he was poking fun at her in some way as a matchmaking spinster who always followed the rules of the ton. The thought made her bristle.

Maybe that’s what he wanted. Well, two could play that game.

“Just yesterday, I read the most enlightened poem by a Miss Anna Barbauld,” she said. “‘The Rights of a Woman.’ Let me see if I can’t remember a line or two:

Yes, injured Woman! Rise, assert thy right…

Go forth arrayed in panoply divine;

That angel pureness which admits no stain;

Go, bid proud Man his boasted rule resign,

And kiss the golden sceptre of thy reign.

“Hmm,” the Duke hummed. “Panoply—as in armor, correct?”

“Armor, yes,” Lilian said. “A woman’s armor may not always look as one expects.”

“For example?”

“For example, Jane’s pearls.” She tilted her head toward the couple ahead of them. “They are armor against the gossip of any who would say she is unfit to be a countess.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw a frown cross the Duke’s forehead. He glanced down at her. “Your father is an earl,” he commented after a breath. “Why would anyone say such a thing?”

Lilian bit her tongue, wishing she could snatch back her own words. “Oh, just because people say things,” she said. The Duke was still looking down at her quite intently. “The lines of the poem,” she said quickly, “that imagine a man bending the knee to kiss a woman’s scepter. How do they make you feel—as a man?”

She tilted her head to look up at him as he gave her question a moment’s consideration. It struck her as she did so that she had never actually been this close to the Wild Duke before. He was so tall that the sun shone through the stencil of apple tree branches behind his head, directly into her eyes. She squinted, the fancy striking her that it flickered in his hair like a crown.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that every man bends to kiss the scepter of a woman’s rule at least once in his lifetime. Don’t you feel that’s what Munro did when he entreated your sister to become his wife?”

As he looked down at her, Lilian looked away. She felt strangely light-headed… and a bit warm despite the chill in the autumn air.

“I suppose,” she said after a moment. “But do you not feel that is more for show than anything? After all, once the wedding comes around, the woman is expected to vow obedience to her husband.”

“Is she?” the Duke asked. “I suppose I haven’t paid that much attention.”

“No, of course,” Lilian murmured. “You wouldn’t have.”

“What exactly are you insinuating, Lady Lilian?” The Duke’s tone was suddenly cold. Lilian glanced up to find his green eyes hard upon her.

“I’m not insinuating anything,” she said stiffly. “Such subtlety is not to my taste. It has simply been my experience that those who are on the positive side of a power imbalance are less likely to notice it.”

Once again, Lilian was finding it impossible to read the Duke’s expression.

“Well,” he said at last, “it has been my experience that one should never argue too firmly from one’s own experience. At least until one’s experience has been given the opportunity to change and grow.”

Looking up at the Wild Duke, Lilian couldn’t decide whether this response was extremely wise or simply a reflection of the carefree lifestyle he reportedly embraced. There were shadows in his green eyes that she hadn’t expected, and she found herself wondering, Where does that darkness come from?