Chapter 8
I t had been ages since she’d had so much…fun.
Mercy was accustomed to feeling accomplished, to completing tasks, to winning over readers of the pamphlets she and her brother produced, and to swaying opinions, but she was not accustomed to enjoying herself.
She was stunned that a ton ball could actually be delightful, amusing, even interesting. And all of it had to do with, much to her annoyance, the Duke of Westleigh.
He swept her about the room with shocking grace. Gentlemen were not meant to be so very graceful, were they? Especially big, massive fellows like the Duke of Westleigh. He towered over her, far taller than six feet tall. His shoulders were broad, his jawline was positively chiseled, his cheeks were high, and his eyes? His eyes smoldered.
It was most annoying, all his perfection. And he was perfect.
His family was perfect.
Everything about him screamed perfection, and she enjoyed it.
And that was what annoyed her the most!
If he had decided to wage a war with her, his campaign was quite effective, and she was not going to deny it at present. No, she was going to do exactly as he had suggested. She was going to experience the entirety of it before telling him that she had absolutely no intention of becoming a duchess.
Truly, the role was so far away from what she had envisioned for herself that she was almost certain she was dreaming and would awake at any moment.
She was certainly enjoying the looks upon the faces of the many English people who appeared quite perplexed, and possibly disgusted, that another American had infiltrated their ranks and was winning one of their most sought-after bachelors.
It had not occurred to her that she would cause so much disgruntlement and difficulty. A bit? Yes. But this? It was positively fascinating.
But perversely, she found herself quite reveling in it. After the music came to a close and he bowed low over her hand, and she curtsied in turn, he began to lead her off the floor. And she found herself quite boldly suggesting, “Another dance, Your Grace?”
He froze and turned to her, his face a mask of absolute pleasure and surprise. “I beg your pardon.”
“Would you not dance with me again, Your Grace?” she asked, suddenly realizing her voice was quite loud when the music had stopped.
“Ladies are not supposed to ask the gentlemen to dance, Miss Miller,” he whispered sotto voce.
“But I am not a typical lady,” she said.
“I am well aware,” he said, amused and clearly pleased. There was a sort of arrogance about him which now seemed only amplified, like a lion on the savannah overlooking all his domain.
And she was suddenly cognizant of the fact that several people had overheard her request because the room had gone almost deathly still. Everyone was staring at them with eyes like hawks, waiting to see what the duke would do.
Would he cast her as carrion, or would he accept her offer? She knew what he would do. He adored her company. It was written all over his face. She wasn’t a fool. The duke wanted her, and she quite instinctively wanted him back, but she would not let herself go into the fray of emotion and desire. No. She would keep her intellectual capacity, and she would watch the English and the ton twist in the wind as she had fun with them.
Yes, this would be merry indeed. Very, very merry.
The duke swept her into his arms as an allemande began, and they circled the floor energetically. The onlookers took quite a few moments to join them on the floor. In fact, they were the only couple dancing for much of the allemande.
Then Tobias and Juliet took to the floor, and the duke’s brothers found partners. It appeared as if the ball had been entirely taken over by the Briarwoods, and then, of course, everyone descended to be part of the fray.
“You did that on purpose,” he said, his lips twitching with amusement.
“Of course I did,” she said. “For the most part. I didn’t quite realize they’d all stare so entirely. But surely you must know the sort of person you wish to marry.”
He laughed. “I already know,” he said. “No doubt you could have been a general in the army.”
“Ladies had quite a part in the Revolutionary War, you know?”
“Yes, I do know,” he said. “I have read many of the details and exploits of the brave women. Women who aided their husbands in Congress and, of course, the women who fired cannon at the English.”
“You are talking about Molly Pitcher,” she gasped. She had seen Miss Pitcher from afar once at one of the camps. And she had indeed fired cannon!
“Indeed I am,” he said. “I have long admired the fortitude and strength of the women of the colonies.”
“Not colonies,” she tsked.
“Pardon me,” he corrected. “The United States of America.”
“Women have been brushed aside for too long.”
“I have no desire to brush ladies aside. I am surrounded by magnificent women—my aunt, my mother, my sisters,” the duke replied easily and earnestly. “My life is only better when they shine, and I would like to see you shine as well.”
She lifted her chin. “What makes you think that I don’t?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Your own self seems to keep you from doing it.”
“What?” she gasped.
“You see the world as a challenge, a difficulty, as something full of suffering.”
She winced at that. “You have just managed to make a very enjoyable evening most unpleasant.”
“Forgive me,” he said, his gaze shadowing. “That was not my intention,” he added as he turned her under his arm. “Sometimes being a duke allows me to be blunt, and I say things that no one else could and expect people to listen.”
“I’m listening,” she gritted. “Do you not see the world as a dark, terrible place?”
“The world is a dark, terrible place,” he confirmed. “But I do not allow it to take joy from me.”
She snorted. “That’s easy for you to say as duke.”
He nodded. “You’re not wrong there, but I think it is what we have within ourselves that makes this world what it is. If we can find an inner paradise, well, we shall be well.”
“And you?” she queried, stunned by this thought. “Do you have that inner paradise?”
He seemed to hesitate for a moment. She felt as if she had trod upon a sensitive point.
“Sometimes,” he whispered as the music came to a close and he led her off the floor as the ton continued staring.
“Would you care for a glass of punch?” he asked.
“Are you parched?” she queried.
“No,” he admitted, clearly not willing to let her go. “A bit of cool air?”
“I should like to see the stars,” she said softly, her heart suddenly aching.
“I don’t think I shall be able to accommodate you,” he replied softly, his voice low. “Stars in London are no easy thing.”
But even so, he led her out to the balcony with its lanterns dancing in the shape of papier-maché moons. “Will this do?”
“Oh yes! It is a welcome escape from the crush. How did you know I needed this?”
His gaze searched over her face. “Lady Falkirk does know how to put on a good show, and she must keep this area illuminated enough so that no young ladies are ruined when they take a bit of air.” He glanced out into the dark. “That sort of ruination is down those paths. That’s likely where my brothers are. Certainly, Hector.”
“Your brothers?” she exclaimed. “ Hector? ”
“Oh, yes.” He laughed at her surprise. “Hector is quite the rake.”
“Hector?” she exclaimed. “He’s such good company and clearly loves his sister. And the others?”
“All of them,” he said. “Rakes and rogues to the letter.”
“And you?” she whispered. “Are you a rake?”
He hesitated. “Yes,” he finally admitted. “I have been under the tutelage of many fine women,” he said softly.
“What an interesting way of putting it,” she said, frowning. Suddenly, she did not like the idea of him in the arms of other women.
“No gentleman should go into the fray unarmed without knowledge,” he said. “We would be terrible, don’t you know, if we weren’t a bit educated.”
She considered this information. After all, she was all for education. “And you get your education from ladies?”
He groaned as he traced his hand over the granite balustrade. “Being educated by other men about such affairs is really quite impractical because they have no idea of the workings of a female and are very self-centered and selfish.”
She laughed, shocked at his confession. “I won’t deny that men can be quite ignorant when it comes to the point of view of ladies,” she said. “I suppose it is quite wise to be educated by females about females.”
“Not just that,” he said as the night breeze slipped over them. “But about life in general and the workings between women and men. If you listen to ladies, your life will be much, much better.”
“Being a lady,” she nodded, “I suppose I should just listen to myself.”
“Not you,” he stated. “Not in this.”
“Why not?” she demanded, trying not to be affronted.
“Because unlike the ladies of my acquaintance, you do not allow yourself pleasure. You’ve made that quite clear, but you seem to have let my mother take you under her wing. You enjoy the gown you’re wearing.”
“It is most odd,” she said. “And certainly not what I’m accustomed to, but my maid, Gemma, was very kind. She helped me put it on, and the fabric is quite lovely.”
“You look magnificent,” he said. “As if you were born to it.”
“I was born to know things and to make things happen.”
Something crossed over his visage then that stole her breath away.
Pride.
He was proud of her abilities. He admired them.
“And I’m sure that you will,” he rumbled.
She shook her head, looking out to the trees bathed in darkness. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s a very tentative place, this world,” she whispered, turning to face the gardens and leaning her hands against the balcony. “Your brothers, you, my brother? You can do so much. You can take up arms, you can make bold declarations, and choose so much…but I? I could barely run a business without being threatened by a man.”
“You are talking about what happened in New York,” he said softly.
She nodded, wincing. “Yes.”
The duke grew still. “That man… He wanted to marry you?”
“Something like that,” she said tightly, her mouth souring. “I’ve known him for years. He says he loves me, but he doesn’t. He wanted to control me.”
“I am so sorry that happened to you. But I wish to make this plain. I have no desire to control you,” he began, his voice a low rumble in the soft lantern light. “If anything, I wish to set you free upon an unsuspecting world.”
She blinked at that. “I beg your pardon.”
“I can only imagine how this world would be, Miss Miller, if you could but be yourself with nothing to hinder you. It would be magnificent to behold. My entire life is about helping people become themselves, and you are hiding. And it’s a pity.”
She looked up at him then, both aghast and tempted. Was she hiding? Truly? “This is a strange courtship, sir, and rather arrogant of you to suggest that I am not myself.”
“Forgive me,” he said softly.
But then she winced. “Do not be. You are not wrong. I could not make that man in New York stop. I don’t even wish to say his name. I had to run away and come here and ask Tobias to return, and now I do not even know if I wish to go back.”
“You fought so hard,” he said, “for independence, you and your brother.”
“Yes, we did,” she agreed, her throat tightening. “But perhaps it was truly freedom that we fought for, the ability to go back and forth between worlds. The ability to choose .”
“The ability to go back and forth between worlds? To choose?” he whispered. “Isn’t that everyone’s dream?”
“No,” she said. “Because I don’t think most people even know that’s an option.”
“Would you like it to be an option for you?”
She licked her lips because in her heart of hearts, yes, it was what she wanted more than anything in the whole world. But she hated admitting the truth. That in this world, his help would make it possible.
And he was too wonderful for words. And she could not trust such a wonderful thing, could she?