Page 17 of The Duke and the Spinster

“Someone here, Your Grace, in this town right now? This is the sort of occurrence I left London to avoid. Now, the few of my clients who are in London still are merchants, business owners and the like. The only nobility I deal with are here. That they might do this…”

“Yes, it is distressing, isn’t it? I will do my best to discover the perpetrator, and deal with them. Thank you for your timely efficiency in obtaining this information. I won’t ask how you did so.”

Mr Sandiford bowed, and Garrett stepped out onto the street, deep in thought.

All of this gave him a much clearer idea of why Lady Juliana retreated, of why she had looked shocked when he had called her beautiful, but it did not explain the way that she had fled his presence – for, surely, he had amply shown that he did not see her as others had?

Obviously, there was something he was missing. Perhaps the evening would provide him a chance to speak with her, to discover more. Even if that did not come to pass, he would have a chance to at least listen to the gossipers, and try to identify where the mutterings had begun.

~~~~~

When they returned to Hallingbrook Grange for the evening, Juliana half expected that the Duke would not be present. Part of her was deeply disappointed at the thought, whilst the more sensible part of her sternly declared that it would be for the best if he was not there. But he was. She saw him the instant she walked through the door into the large parlour. She had not thought it possible for him to look more handsome – but he did.

His somewhat stern manner did nothing to lessen the effect. He stood to one side, almost part of a conversation, but not quite, the light from the candles on the mantle casting his profile into sharp contrast. He turned a little, almost as if feeling her eyes upon him. Their eyes met, and, for a moment, everything else ceased to exist. A tiny smile lit his face, and he gave her the smallest of nods – yet somehow it seemed as full of import as a deep bow might have been.

She stumbled slightly on the edge of the rug, her breath and balance stolen by his look.

And mentally cursed him in that instant, as the eyes of half the room came to rest on her, wobbly as she was. All her preparation, all her care with how she moved, years of careful practice – all were worthless in this man’s presence, it seemed. And she would pay the price, she knew it, saw it in the eyes and the avid expressions of the occupants of the room. Once again, she was marked as wrong, broken, scandalous and food for gossip.

Once her balance was restored, she flicked a glance his way, glaring at him, her expression full of the anger she felt, full of her frustration at her inability to do anything to change what had happened. He almost flinched, and, oddly, that hurt. She turned her gaze away, proceeding obediently after her family.

She could not bear it. The only man that she had ever found the least bit interesting, and it seemed most likely that he was a rake, simply playing with her for his amusement, whilst ruining her reputation all over again. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she forced them away. She could not, simply could not, stay with her mother, watch her sister behave faultlessly and be fawned over, knowing that he stood there, watching, and did not know or care what he had done to her.

She needed to escape. It would have to be the Library again, for she knew where that was, and knew that very few of the guests present, if any, would have reason to go in there. She would slip away as soon as she could. In the end, it took another half hour of excruciating social banality, but eventually they reached a point in the room close to the door to the hallway, and her mother and sister settled into an intense conversation with some women they knew well. Juliana moved away from them, a little at a time, until she could slip through the door.

~~~~~

The Earl of Fondleton leaned idly against the wall, a glass in his hand as always. He seemed to be watching the game of cards in progress at the table in front of him. But, in reality, he was watching the progress of a certain Lady, as she moved around the room with her mother and sister.

Lady Juliana was staying very close to her mother, and if she continued that way, he would, again, be prevented from putting his plans into action. The longer he was unable to get her alone, the more intense his craving to possess her became. He was not used to being denied things. His face bore a smile, but beneath it, his jaw was clenched as he forced himself to wait, to believe that a chance would come.

When he had almost given up hope, and was considering joining a card game, she moved. The mother and sister were deep in conversation, and Lady Juliana simply drifted away from them, ghost-like, unnoticed by the people around her, and slipped through the hallway door. Fondleton’s smile became real.

Casually, he deposited his glass on a nearby table, and sauntered across the room, speaking to an acquaintance here and there on the way, until he also slipped through that door, unnoticed, he hoped. The hallway was empty, but the only door open was the library. This time, he would go in there immediately, not leaving any chance that Kilmerstan might magically appear and thwart him.

Moving as quietly as possible, he stepped into the room, and closed the door behind him.

~~~~~

Juliana had gone immediately to the same shelf as before. Someone had replaced the book she had dropped – she wondered if the Duke had done so himself. Firmly chiding herself for even thinking of him, she pulled the novel from its place, and turned, moving towards the chairs near the unlit fireplace at one side of the room. The candles set on the mantle would provide enough light to read.

As she stood, attempting to decide which of the ill-assorted collection of chairs would be more comfortable, a small noise caught her attention. Surely not! Not again. It had sounded like the click of the door closing. She froze, suddenly afraid. What if it was him? What would she do? Her traitorous mental voice cheerfully suggested, ‘you could allow him to kiss you again’. She forced the thought away.

Whilst she had stood, frozen, it seemed that whoever had entered had crossed the room, for, without warning, strong arms enclosed her from behind. For a second, she hoped – and then she knew – it wasn’t him. This man’s cologne was very, very different – cheap, poorly blended, and an unsuitable choice of scents to combine. It made her want to sneeze.

Panic took her, and she struggled to escape his grasp. The book, seemingly doomed to misfortune, slipped from her grasp, and landed on the chair beside her. She found her voice, and protested.

“Who… what do you want? Unhand me!”

“I think not.”

His answer was accompanied by a coarse laugh, and his hands shifted, sliding up over the front of her body towards her breasts. She struggled again, and he simply used her movements to advantage, and spun her in his grasp, until she was face to face with him. Fondleton. His breath smelled worse than his cologne, and she half choked. He laughed again, and lowered his lips towards hers.

She fought, unthinking, simply terrified, but he held her, and forced a kiss upon her. She wanted to retch. In the depths of her mind, as she struggled, she wondered – how could the same action from two men be so very, very different?

Still holding her tight, he leant back a little, his eyes glittering with what she suspected was lust. She shivered, stilling. If fighting him had not granted her freedom, then she needed to think, to find another way to escape.

“That’s better, my dear Lady. Kisses, and more, can be quite pleasant when you don’t fight them. As I intend to demonstrate to you, at length.”