“From what I understand, Lucretia has plans for us.”
“Oh, Nathaniel,” the Dowager rapped the Duke with her fan, “that is quite enough.”
Then Jake felt it:herattention locked onto him. His gaze slid toward her. His first impression of her typicality held true, but certain details subverted it.
Platinum streaked through her hair as if she spent her days beneath the open sky instead of inside the close drawing rooms that a duller shade of blonde would suggest. And her face was unfashionably tanned a few shades darker than her décolletage, doubtless caused by the same source. And speaking of her décolletage . . .
His mouth went dry. It was the way her dress, a suggestive shade of newly flushed skin, clung to her body.
His eyes lifted to meet hers, and he detected knowledge there. She knew what he’d been thinking, and she wasn’t at all impressed. Further, he couldn’t help noting a cautious light within those eyes the blue of a Polynesian sky, determined not to give anything of herself away. How ironic, then, that they revealed the opposite.
Behind her guarded manner he sensed a raw, vulnerable nerve. An unusual quality at a gathering where most people’s sole purpose in attending was to appear as grandiose and invulnerable as possible.
An urge, immediate and strange, compelled him to protect this woman to whom he’d never spoken a word. He made an automatic movement forward, and she responded with a skittish step backward. A jarring image of predator and prey came to mind, at odds with the protectiveness he felt. A part of him relished the idea of playing shark to her minnow, even as another part understood that it made him a scoundrel.
The Duke must have noticed the subject of his attention for he neatly side-stepped and gestured toward the lady, whose circumspect gaze never once strayed from Jake. “Lord St. Alban,” said the Duke, “may I present my daughter, Lady Olivia, to you?”
Thiswas Lady Olivia? The woman the pair of louts had been disparaging at the whiskey cart? And she was the daughter of a duke?Thisduke?
From what he could gather, the woman was a walking scandal. Impossible that she was the Dowager’s candidate for his bride.
He gave himself a mental shake.His bride?Where had that last bit come from? Even so, disappointment, distinct and unmistakable, reared its head and as quickly lay down. He didn’t need a walking scandal for a wife.
On a step forward, Lady Olivia extended her hand toward him. The instant he touched his fingers to hers, a happening occurred, unexpected and confounding: a tiny shock of electricity sparked between them.
A startled chirrup escaped her pink lips, and she snatched her hand back, a surprised smile flashing across her mouth. The smile dropped in an instant, as if she remembered that she didn’t smile for strangers.
Another tug of disappointment pulled at him. Lady Olivia had the sort of smile that reached all the way up to her eyes. A rare sighting inenvirons such as these, he suspected.
“Daughter by law, Your Grace,” the Dowager was saying, either unaware of or indifferent to any sparks that might be flying between him and Lady Olivia. “And former at that.”
Jake’s brows drew together. An entire conversation seemed to be taking place below the surface of the current conversation. And he wasn’t invited.
Lady Olivia angled her body toward the Duke and placed her silk-gloved hand on his forearm. There was no mistaking the affection the two held for one another. “I shall call you Father as long as you wish.”
“Forever, my dear,” he returned, a doting twinkle in his eye. He gestured toward Jake. “St. Alban happens to be my new protégé.”
“Your protégé?” Lady Olivia asked. She pinned Jake with a glare equal parts confusion and horror. He rather enjoyed the hitch he heard in her voice. “You don’t appear to be the sort of man incapable of managing his own affairs.”
The Dowager gasped, and the Duke’s bushy silver eyebrows lifted, but Jake took her outburst in stride. “Too often appearances can be deceiving,” he said. “One never knows what sort a man might be. That is, until you’ve known him long enough to take his measure. Wouldn’t you agree, my lady?”
Lady Olivia’s mouth snapped shut, and a blush crept up her décolletage. She hadn’t missed the double entendre located within his words. He tamped down a swell of satisfaction. For the first time since setting foot on English soil, Jake felt interested, engaged, and alive.
Even though he wouldn’t be marrying this walking scandal, her restraint made him want to poke and prod her until he’d stripped her of her exquisite control. Lady Olivia was petite and blond, but boring and dull she wasn’t.
Chapter 3
Oh, why had she spoken those preposterous words to Lord St. Alban?
Anyone with eyes could see that, aside from the Duke, he was the most capable man in the room. In all of London, mayhap.
But her reason for speaking so rudely was clear, if only to her. She needed to put distance between herself and this viscount, who had faced this entire gathering and silently dared them to speak a word crosswise against his daughter. She couldn’t help admiring anyone who stood up to these people. It was a most attractive quality, which was the absolute opposite direction her thoughts should be taking.
It wouldn’t do for her to admire any man or find him attractive. That part of her life was over. Her future self would enjoy a different sort of life. One that didn’t involve attractive, admirable viscounts.
She cleared her throat and found the Duke observing her, a speculative cant to his head. “I must bid you all a good night, I’m afraid,” she said. “I have an early morning meeting at the school.”
“Lady Olivia, about thatprogressiveschool,” began the Dowager. Olivia sensed the other woman building up to a scold. “Why must you invite even more scan—”
