He knew the painting well—a lady in a pink frock and powdered wig posed among the trees. The sitter was not particularly bewitching, or even pretty, but she cut the sort of figure a cultured lady would appreciate.
“If I did not know better,” said she to her sisters, “I’d wager that is a Gainsborough.”
Almost unconsciously, he stepped toward the group. Wade told himself that he was only being polite. A gentleman could not creep in the corridor without making his presence known, but the truth was that these women piqued his curiosity.
“It is,” he answered. His deep voice echoed in the quiet passage. The sisters spun to find him standing behind them.
“I beg your pardon?” the center girl asked.
Wade met her eyes. Indeed, he was unable to tear his gaze from her, for she was the single most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. He noted high, pale cheeks as cool and as flawless as porcelain. A sharp nose sculpted above two ripe-berry lips and one determined chin. Truly, her face was perfect—disconcertingly so—but her most arresting feature was her eyes:
They were locked onhim,as if he was the only man in the world worth looking at…not simply the only man standing in the corridor.
Wade willed his brain to function. He had approached them. He’d inserted himself into their conversation. He was mooning at this lady like some drooling cretin. If he did not kick himself to action soon, he would ruin any chance of making a dashing impression.
“A Gainsborough.” He pointed to the portrait. “There used to be a ghastly drawing of a deer or something there, but this corridor deserved better. Such a beautiful lady fairly brightens the space.”
The compliment was not lost on her, but surely, a woman as beautiful as she received compliments from every man who crossed her path. If he wanted to excite her, Wade would have to improve on his strategy.
First, he needed to learn her name.
Wade had earned himself a terrible reputation over the years. He knew what folk said about him, how they whispered his sins in polite company. He was a cad and a villain, and not to be trusted among the impressionable young women of society.
But the truth was that he had never dishonored a lady. He’d never seduced an innocent or forced a seasoned woman into his bed. His lovers came willingly because he was handsome, and wealthy, and a duke. There was far more in it for them, and when their liaison ran its course, well…everyone involved knew how the game was played.
There were nights when Wade wore his infamy like a crown, but in this one moment, he wished he could cast it off like an old cloak.
A clever lady like Octavia Staunton wouldn’t let the Duke of Wadebridge within sniffing distance of her stunning sister.
“Forgive us, Your Grace,” the governess said, gripping both of her sisters’ elbows. She tried to drag them away. “My sisters and I are wanted downstairs.”
“Without an introduction?”
Wade saw the curse she was too polite to utter aloud.
“Cassandra, Honoria, meet His Grace the Duke of Wadebridge.” To him, she added, “My sisters, Miss Cassandra Staunton and Miss Honoria Staunton of Longstone.”
The art lover’s name was Cassandra.
“Ah, yes.” He dipped his head, acknowledging their curtseys. “Our last two ladies.”
Good manners dictated that he should escort the eldest sister down to the garden. He knew it. She knew it. The others knew it, too.
If he appeared on the terrace with anyone except Octavia Staunton, despite the fact that she was governess here, the entire garden party would sit up and take notice. Rules were in place for a reason. Tradition kept everyone in line, and the customs of their classes kept them safe.
Wade had spent his life breaking rules, defying tradition, doing thingshis way.He was not about to let something so insignificant as class or custom stop him from getting what he wanted.
He offered his arm to Miss Cassandra, praying she’d take it. She was obviously intelligent. She was perceptive of his motives—a woman must keep her guard up even in polite society—but was she courageous enough to throw caution and convention to the wind?
When her white-gloved hand fluttered like an angel’s wing against his coat sleeve, Wade knew his prayers had been answered. He escorted Cassandra Staunton down to the sunny, crowded garden.
CHAPTER THREE
So much for avoiding the spotlight. Cassandra sighed as she and her escort picked a path across the grass. Although it came as no surprise, she had managed to catch the duke’s eye.
She stole a glance at him beneath the brim of her straw hat. He was handsome enough—if one liked dark features, a chiseled face. His shadowy gaze gave her the distinct impression that he was a dangerous man.
He had certainly put Octavia on her guard. The eldest Staunton had all but dragged them from his presence. Even now, her sister followed so closely that she nearly trod upon Cassandra’s hems.
