Chapter Two #2
“This is easily remedied.” Alexander flicked a wrist. “I wasn’t at the Perswick ball.
I don’t even think I was invited. Lady Perswick doesn’t like me.
” She’d tried to seduce Alexander once and when he refused, called him a debauched duke unworthy of her time.
“Besides, proper young ladies hold no appeal for me. You’ve warned me away often enough, reciting the dangers they represent to an unwed duke and I—oh. ”
No. Impossible. I wouldn’t have.
“Oh, indeed.” Damon smoothed down his coat, with one hand. “Whether Lady Perswick likes you or not isn’t of importance because apparently, you did attend her ball at least long enough to take Canterbell’s daughter into the bloody gardens.”
“But I wasn’t there.” He had no recollection of attending such a tepid, boring event.
Alexander didn’t even dance due to…his ability to attract misfortune.
No point in embarrassing himself before the ton.
Undignified for a duke unless the duke was foxed, which he often happened to be.
“Pure nonsense. Wait, is this some sort of a jest? Did Oakhurst put you up to this?” Alexander shook his head.
“Excellent. I shall have to find a way to get even with that rogue.”
The drawing room door opened barely a crack to reveal Timmons. “I apologize, my lord, but…Lord Canterbell and Lady Sophia wish to be admitted. Immediately. Lord Canterbell is most insistent.”
Alexander’s eyes widened. “You invited them here? No.” He held up his palm to Timmons. “Send them away. I’m not well. Not at home.”
I didn’t compromise some chit.
The pounding in his temples increased.
But neither could Alexander remember…arriving home in the carriage. Or Stone putting him to bed. Not entirely unusual, though he typically had some memory of his nights with Oakhurst. But the previous evening stayed…ominously blank after the incident at the brothel.
“We will not be denied entry, Your Grace.” A distinguished gentleman with a wealth of snowy white hair stepped into the room, his stance reminding Alexander of a boxer about to enter the ring.
Disdain, solely directed at Alexander, pulled his lips into a sneer.
“I didn’t wish to cool my heels any longer, Lord Damon.
This matter is most urgent. The gossip began to circulate before we even left Lady Perswick’s. Now it is rampant.”
“Canterbell.” Damon inclined his head. “My apologies that you were kept waiting. I wished to speak to my nephew privately before our broader discussion.”
Canterbell made a grunt, eyeing Alexander with dislike, not even bothering to bow. Which was quite disrespectful.
The sound of skirts caught his ear as a young woman arrived behind Lord Canterbell, a hooded cloak covering her from head to toe, giving no indication of her shape or features.
Canterbell nudged her forward. “My daughter, Lady Sophia Simmons.”
Slender fingers jerked back the hood, revealing a completely ordinary young woman.
I was expecting a great beauty if I ruined her.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, Lady Sophia’s chin lifted, eyes meeting his with murderous intent. She didn’t look at all pleased to be here, or even triumphant at possibly bagging a duke.
If I compromised her. Which I didn’t.
Alexander crossed his legs. Hostile chit.
She dropped into the most awkward curtsey he’d ever seen, like a puppet being jerked about by strings. Had he not been so utterly appalled at the situation, Alexander might have laughed.
“Your Grace,” she managed to choke out, with even less respect than her father.
Damon subtly kicked Alexander’s foot, urging him to stand.
The room spun a bit as he came to his feet. He fixed Lady Sophia with a dismissive look of his own.
“Every female in London tosses themselves in your direction, yet that wasn’t enough, was it? You had to lure my daughter—” Canterbell clamped his mouth shut, before holding up a palm to Damon. “Apologies, my lord. I promised to hold my temper, but I am most…distressed.”
“I believe we all are,” Damon answered.
I don’t even find her appealing, let alone worthy of compromise.
Had he seen Lady Sophia on the street, or at one of the few society events he attended, she wouldn’t have attracted his notice. Hair a plain light brown. Eyes the same hue. Not too short or tall. A trifle plump. Unremarkable in every way.
Except for the mouth. That’s rather nice.
Maybe her bosom was lovely. Alexander couldn’t tell as it was hidden beneath the cloak.
No weeping. No quivering in shame for having been ruined. No sign of any humiliation at her situation. Only righteous indignation, as if by his mere presence, Alexander offended her.
“Your Grace.” Damon sounded exhausted to the very marrow of his bones.
“I’ve never seen this girl before in my life,” Alexander declared, almost certain he had not. Ducal arrogance would make it completely true. Convince Canterbell of his error. He waved his hand in dismissal at the earl and his daughter. “Obviously, this is a fabrication. Perhaps Lady Sally—”
“Sophia,” she snarled back at him.
Alexander gave a roll of his shoulders, the only other movement he could manage without becoming dizzy.
“My mistake.” He didn’t care what her name happened to be.
A great many women had been kissed, fondled and seduced by him, and he had yet to forget a face, no matter his level of intoxication.
This girl was unknown to him whether her pompous, overbearing father believed it or not.
“I’m not sure who you were cavorting with in the Perswick gardens, only that it wasn’t me. ”
She inhaled sharply.
Canterbell crossed his arms, eyes narrowing on Alexander.
“Timmons will show you out.” He wanted these two opportunists out of his house so that he could lie down. Perhaps send for Oakhurst and find out if he’d drank something out of the ordinary the previous evening. Gin, perhaps? From the Rookery?
“Are you calling me a liar, Roxboro?” Canterbell regarded him blandly. “Me. The Lord Speaker of Parliament.”
“My lord,” Damon said hurriedly. “I’m sure that isn’t what the duke is inferring.”
“No, I would never accuse you of lying.” He turned to Lady Whatever.
“I’m accusing her. Your daughter.” Alexander pressed a finger to his forehead.
Would this headache ever dissipate? If Oakhurst had plied him with tainted gin, Alexander would kill him, friend or not.
“You might require spectacles. Or is it only that you wish to be a duchess and saw a chance at achieving such prominence?”
“You—” the girl dared to hiss at him.
“I saw you myself.” Canterbell came forward. “Lady Brokeburst watched you walk my daughter into the gardens, shortly before she decided to inform half of Lady Perswick’s guests that she’d witnessed your lechery.”
“Impossible. I did not attend Lady Perswick’s ball,” Alexander protested, glancing at Damon. “She detests me.”
“I don’t wonder,” the savage little chit said under her breath.
“And,” Alexander continued with all certainty, “as such would never have invited me. Even had I decided to attend, which I did not, Lady Perswick would have denied me entry.”
That was an exaggeration. He was still a duke, though a disreputable one. Lady Perswick would have greeted him with a kiss to the cheek all the while murmuring her dislike.
“Interesting, Your Grace.” Canterbell’s cheeks had gone red with anger.
“Lord Lacton stopped me as I led my daughter outside to our carriage while attempting to protect her from censure. Lacton had already heard the gossip spreading throughout the ballroom and confirmed he’d seen you.
As did Lady Lacton. And Lady Stafford’s daughter, Hortensia, as she repeated to my lady wife,” he paused, “that she’d seen you lead Sophia out to the terrace. ”
Alexander swallowed, at a loss for words. There were witnesses? To his appearance at a ball he never would have attended? “I was—”
“In your cups? A near constant state, I understand, given your love of spirits,” Canterbell interjected with disgust. “I doubt you know where you are half the time, Your Grace.”
“Canterbell,” Damon growled in warning.
The older man merely raised a brow at Alexander’s uncle, not at all intimidated. “Rest assured, there is no one in this room less pleased with this turn of events than I. Any other gentleman in London is preferable. Even Haywood would be an improvement,” he bit out.
That’s rather insulting.
The Duke of Haywood was wealthy but rumored to have the pox, and resembled a withered toadstool.
“If I lured her, and I’m not saying I did,” Alexander sputtered, trying to sound ducal and failing. “She allowed me to do so, did she not? Does Lady Saffron—”
“Sophia,” Canterbell corrected him.
“Fine. Does she not share some of the blame?” Alexander looked at the girl standing before him. Hostility rolled off her in waves. “I’m a duke, after all. And she is—”
“How dare you,” Canterbell growled. “Libertine.”
“My lord.” Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your Grace. Please. Let us discuss things rationally without resorting to insults. Lord Canterbell, your opinion of the Duke of Roxboro is duly noted, and further disparagement is not necessary.”
“My daughter smelled of champagne as I hurried her to our carriage. You likely plied her with glasses of the stuff, intent on taking liberties,” Canterbell accused.
Frankly, that did sound like something Alexander would do. But he hadn’t. Because he wasn’t there.
He was…somewhat certain.
“I did not lure Lady Susan—”
“Sophia.” The girl scowled back at him. “Have the courtesy to address me correctly.” She paused, evidently waiting for him to notice she didn’t bother to address him properly.
Alexander and Damon observed her blunt outburst with a great deal of shock.
Canterbell, with resignation.
One did not speak to a duke in such a manner. Ever. Her lack of manners was appalling. He would have expected better from Canterbell’s daughter. Lowered eyes. Perhaps a softer manner. Good lord, where were her tears at the supposed damage to her reputation?
His fingers drummed against one thigh.
Which made her far more interesting than her appearance would suggest.