Chapter 2
Two
She folded her arms, staring at the man who had once been a fixture in her childhood home.
He seemed taller; his deep brown hair was still a mess, but this time she found him to be impossibly handsome.
Despite growing up around him, Austin now stood before her as if she were a stranger, and it hurt.
She felt out of place both in Paris and London.
“I cannot believe that you did not recognize me!” Deena snapped and felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.
“It’s been five years,” he replied with a shrug.
Austin’s expression smoothed into devastating charm.
“Dee,” he said. Her nickname rolled off his tongue, and she ignored the flutter in her chest. “Good God. Paris has been unkind to my memory…or far too kind to you.”
She lifted her chin. “Unkind to your memory, I think. I have not changed that much.”
He stepped closer, head tilted as he studied her openly. “Oh, you have. The freckles are the same, and those eyes could still flay a man at twenty paces, but the rest…” His gaze traveled slowly from her hair to her mouth and back again. “The rest is entirely new. Fascinating.”
Deena felt warmth spread across her skin. It was a new, annoying, and unwelcome feeling. She refused to let it show.
“I’ll spare you the embarrassment this once,” she said dryly, “since you’re Dominic’s oldest friend. I will not write a word about you in my little project.”
“Your project,” he repeated, amusement deepening. “The anonymous exposé of scandalous lords. How delightfully wicked.”
“It’s business,” she corrected. “But I still need your help locating one particular gentleman.”
“And who might that be?”
“The Velvet Duke,” she said without hesitation. “He’s notorious enough to sell a million copies.”
Austin’s brows shot up. “The Velvet Duke?”
“Yes. You’ve heard of him?” In her eagerness, she leaned closer to him and was met with the warm, masculine scent of soap and skin.
“I may have.” He smirked down at her, his gaze flicking to her lips and distracting her even further. “But I’m curious to hear what you’ve heard of him?”
Deena cleared her throat and quickly backed away before his scent allured her further.
“All I know is that he’s the duke every gossip sheet swoons over.
A silken seducer and quite the opposite of the Wolf, who was discreet in his doings.
I also heard that he is a breaker of hearts, et cetera.
” She waved a hand. “If I can uncover something truly juicy about him, my pamphlet will fly off the shelves.”
Austin leaned against the nearest bookcase, arms crossed, watching her with an intensity that made the room feel smaller.
“And why,” he asked softly, “would the sister of a wealthy duke need to sell pamphlets for a living? Has Dominic turned miserly and cut your allowance?”
Deena’s spine straightened. “God forbid a woman might want to do something other than embroider cushions and wait to be chosen.”
Austin’s lips curved. “I said nothing about embroidery.”
“You didn’t have to.” She met his gaze squarely. “Some of us prefer to earn our own way rather than rely on the generosity of brothers. Or husbands.”
“Admirable,” he murmured. “Though I confess I am curious. In all those years abroad, no man ever tempted you towards the married state. No charming Frenchman or brooding Italian Count?”
She gave a short laugh. “None worth the sacrifice.”
“The French are known for their power of seduction.”
“And how do you know this?”
His eyes lingered on her face, and made her breath catch despite herself.
“I’ll spare you the details as you seem too innocent to understand,” he finally said.
He had changed, too, she realized. The boyish mischief in his features had sharpened into something more troubling: the strong line of his jaw, the fullness of his lower lip, the way his lashes cast shadows over those hazel eyes. It was infuriating how well time had treated him.
“And what of you?” she asked, forcing lightness into her tone. “Shopping for a wife at my grandmother’s house party and finding none in all these years? That is far more peculiar.”
Austin’s smile faded slightly. “I will find a wife this season.”
“I shall pray that you do.”
“It is a duke’s duty, after all.”
“Duty,” she echoed. “How very noble.”
Silence settled between them, thick and sudden.
He pushed away from the bookcase. “You truly intend to publish these scandals?”
“I do.”
“And you want my help finding the Velvet Duke.”
“I did,” she said. “But since you’re being difficult—”
“I haven’t refused yet.”
“You haven’t agreed either.” She stepped past him towards the door. “I have work to do. If you will not assist me, I will manage alone.”
“Deena.”
She paused and put her hand on the doorknob.
He moved closer to her until she felt the warmth of his body mere inches away from hers. He did not touch her, but a part of her waited to feel his fingers brush against hers.
“You’ve changed,” he said quietly in her ear. “But not entirely. You are still as stubborn as ever.”
Deena whipped around and pointed an accusing finger at him. “And you’re still far too sure of your own charm.”
His low laugh brushed against her skin. “Perhaps. But if you are hunting the Velvet Duke, you might find he’s closer than you think.”
She glared at him. Their faces were inches apart.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said roughly, “be careful what secrets you dig for. Some men guard them closely.”
“I’m not afraid of anyone.” She squared her shoulders.
“You should be.” Austin lifted a finger and brushed a stray curl away from her cheek.
Deena held his gaze a moment longer than necessary and shivered at the slight contact. She did not understand the new feelings that stirred within her, but she backed away from Austin and drew a steady breath.
She willed her voice not to betray the tremor she felt. “I have business to attend to, Your Grace,” she said. “And since you seem disinclined to assist me, I shall manage quite well on my own.”
She turned towards the door, chin high, refusing to grant him the satisfaction of a backward glance.
His low chuckle followed her into the corridor. “It was good seeing you again, Dee.”
The words were soft and sincere. They hung in the air behind her like a caress, but Deena did not slow her stride.
She felt the weight of his gaze on her back until she rounded the corner and the library door clicked shut between them.
Only then did she allow her shoulders to sag and calm her racing heart.
Deena had scarcely rounded the corner when a familiar, booming voice echoed down the corridor.
“Deena darling! There you are! I have been looking everywhere for you!” The Dowager Duchess, her grandmother, swept towards her like a galleon in full sail, cheeks flushed with triumph, silver curls bouncing beneath an elaborate turban adorned with ostrich plumes.
Deena hastily tucked the small notebook deeper into her reticule and summoned a smile. “Grandmother. I was only… fetching a book from the library.”
“A book,” the dowager repeated, eyes twinkling with suspicion. “At a house party? My dear, you are far too serious for your own good. Come along with me now. There are at least three gentlemen waiting to claim dances, and I have promised Viscount Duncan the supper waltz on your behalf.”
Deena’s stomach tightened. “Grandmother, truly, I am not—”
“Nonsense!” The dowager linked their arms and began steering her back toward the drawing room. “You have hidden in Paris long enough. It is time you remembered you are an Archdall. And Archdalls do not spend evenings with books when there are dukes and lords to be danced with.”
They had nearly reached the doors when a liveried footman appeared at Deena’s elbow.
“A note for you, my lady,” he murmured discreetly, offering a silver salver with a single folded paper resting upon it. “Delivered just now.”
Deena’s heart stuttered, a cold prickle racing down her spine. She took the paper with fingers that felt suddenly numb, the wax seal plain and unfranked.
The dowager’s sharp eyes missed nothing. She leaned closer, voice bright with curiosity. “A note? Already? My dear, you have barely been home for a day.”
Deena managed a tight smile. “Likely from Selina or Dominic. They mentioned arriving soon.”
“Mm.” The dowager’s brow arched elegantly. “No crest, no frank. Secretive. An admirer, perhaps? How very promising.”
Deena forced a light laugh that sounded brittle even to her own ears. “Hardly. Probably just estate business.”
The dowager patted her arm. “Open it, child. I am dying of curiosity.”
With the footman still hovering and her grandmother watching expectantly, Deena had little choice. She broke the plain seal, unfolding the single sheet with deliberate calm.
The message was brief, scrawled in the same bold, slanted hand as the first:
Progress, Lady Deena? You have one week remaining. Expose the Velvet Duke’s secrets, or I expose yours and your friend’s. Time runs short.
Ice slid through her veins.
One week? The noose has been tightened.
The dowager peered over her shoulder. “Well? What does it say?”
Deena folded the note quickly, tucking it into her reticule. “Nothing of importance. A reminder about… French lessons I had arranged.”
The dowager’s eyes narrowed, but her tone remained playful. “French lessons. How diligent of you.”
Deena met her grandmother’s gaze, willing her expression to remain serene. “I did promise to keep up my studies.”
“Indeed.” The dowager tapped her fan thoughtfully against her palm. “Though I suspect your studies this week will be of a rather different nature.”
Deena’s smile felt brittle. “Perhaps.”
The dowager linked their arms again, steering her back towards the ballroom. “Come along, then. We have a waltz to arrange. And I’ve a feeling your dance card is about to become very full indeed.”
Deena allowed herself to be led, the threatening words burning in her reticule like a live coal.
One week.
She only had a week to save herself and her friend’s reputation from their blackmailer.
“Did that letter contain unwelcome news, darling?”
“No, only…” Deena swallowed. “Grandmother, do you happen to know who the Velvet Duke is? And where might I find him this evening?”
The dowager threw back her head and laughed a rich, delighted sound that turned several heads in the nearby doorway.
“Oh, my dear girl! I did not expect you to fall victim to his charms quite so quickly. I’m afraid that you must get in line because half the ladies here are already queuing.”
Deena blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, haven’t you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The Velvet Duke has just declared, quite publicly, that he is at last ready to take a wife,” the dowager said, eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she leaned closer. “And half the ladies in England are already sharpening their claws for him, my dear.”
Deena forced a mild smile, though her pulse still hammered from the library encounter and the threatening note burned in her reticule.
“I assume this is why you’re asking for him?”
“No—I mean yes, Grandmother, but I mostly wanted to know who is he?”
The dowager turned to her fully, silver brows arching in genuine bewilderment.
“Who is he?” she echoed, as though Deena had asked the color of the sky. “Why, Austin Delves, of course. The Duke of Windemere.”
Deena gaped, and the dowager patted her cheek fondly.
“Why are you so surprised, darling?”
“I…I am not.”
“Did you expect someone else?”
“No, I have just been away for so long now it’s surprising to hear that my brother’s best friend has such a reputation.”
“He was just here a moment ago and positively swarmed by his admirers.”
Deena felt the floor tilt beneath her.
Austin is the Velvet Duke.
The nickname she had overheard as a girl, the one the scandal sheets had gleefully repeated for years. The Velvet Duke. Her blackmailer wanted her to expose Austin. Her brother’s best friend and the man she had just left in the library, whose hazel eyes still lingered in her mind far too vividly.
“Austin,” she whispered.
The dowager’s gaze sharpened. “Deena? You’ve gone quite pale.”
“I am perfectly well,” Deena managed. “Only… surprised.”
“Well, brace yourself for another surprise.” The dowager’s smile turned mischievous as she glanced over Deena’s shoulder. “Here he is now, the Velvet Duke in the flesh.”
Deena turned and saw Austin standing a few paces away, impeccably elegant. His dark hair was still slightly disheveled as though someone had run desperate fingers through it, and his expression held a trace of wariness quickly masked by his usual lazy charm.
“Your Grace,” the dowager called brightly, beckoning him forward. “Perfect timing. I have found your partner for the first dance.”
“And who might the lucky lady be?” he asked confidently.
“Why, my darling Deena, of course!”
Austin’s brows lifted when his gaze met Deena’s. She was as surprised as he was.
“Lady Deena,” he said, bowing with exaggerated grace as if they hadn’t already seen each other a few minutes ago. “I see your grandmother is determined to throw us together.”
“Determined is my middle name,” the dowager declared. “And the orchestra is striking up. Off you go, both of you. The floor awaits.”
Before Deena could protest, her grandmother pressed her hand into Austin’s gloved one and gave them a gentle but inexorable push towards the center of the room. Deena noticed the glares of the women around them.
The opening strains of a waltz floated through the air, and Austin’s fingers closed warmly around hers.
“Shall we, Dee?” he murmured softly. “Or would you prefer to continue searching for dangerous secrets elsewhere?”
Her pulse raced beneath his touch, but she kept her wits.
“Oh, Austin. It would be an absolute honor to dance with you.”
His smile curved, slow, and knowing as he led her.
“Then let us dance before the true hunt begins.”