The Duke’s Darling Debutante by Maggie Dallen

1

Luke Tidemore, 5^th Duke of Walton, stood next to his old friend and school chum, the Earl of Havercrest, as they surveyed the packed ballroom. The season had only just begun, and the ton’s appetite for such events made this party, and others like it, a crush.

They were the exact sort of thing Luke hated.

“It’s good of you to come, Walton,” Crest murmured as if he could sense his friend’s discomfort.

“Glad to be here,” he replied automatically, his frown deepening as a group of women walked by giggling obnoxiously behind their fans. They eyed him with the sort of intent that made him shift his weight from one foot to the other. Who said men were the hunters and women the gatherers? Their gazes left little doubt. They were on a duke hunt.

Crest watched them move past before he raised a single rakish brow. “Liar.”

One corner of Luke’s mouth turned up as he looked down at the ground. “You’ve got me there, old chap.”

Crest slapped his back with a low chuckle. “I’ve known you for nearly fifteen years now and I’ve never seen you joyfully participate in a single social engagement.”

Inwardly, Luke cringed. He knew this about himself, but it bothered him that this was how his friends saw him. The few he had. His father had been a serious man, stiff and formal, and he’d raised his son in much the same mold. Duty and honor came well before fun. Luke couldn’t deny the merit of those traits. In fact, he’d built his life around them. But lately, he’d spent a great deal more time reflecting on what might be missing when one focused all his energy on obligation. “I’m not without my entertaining qualities, am I?”

“Of course you’re not. We wouldn’t be friends if you didn’t know how to kick up your heels now and then.”

The tension in Luke’s shoulders eased. “Thank you.” While he respected his father a great deal, he’d prefer not to be exactly like him. Luke had avoided marriage for the last ten years for several good reasons. His parents hadn’t been the happiest married couple. They’d tolerated each other, that was about as deep as their affection ran. But at the age of eight and twenty, he’d have to engage in the institution soon, and he wouldn’t mind something a bit warmer than what his parents had endured.

He sighed. Then again, warmth wasn’t exactly his strong suit.

“You’re welcome. I wasn’t trying to defame your character, by the by. I’ve just noted that you’ve always hated social events. Must be awkward as a duke.”

Luke shrugged, glad they were back to safer ground. “Actually, since taking on the title, it’s gotten a great deal easier.” Which was the truth. The best part about being a duke was that one often got to make the rules. And oddly, the less he participated in society, the more people seemed to clamor for his attention.

Not that he wished for the clamoring, he most certainly did not. But it was of note that his lack of participation hadn’t hurt his standing a whit. In fact, it had quite the opposite effect, a state he lamented now. If he’d had any idea withdrawing from society for the better part of two years would produce this sort of effect...

Crest gave a humorless laugh. “Now that, I believe.” The other man looked about the room. “It’s much harder for us lowly peasants to exist in this world.”

Luke looked over at his friend’s profile, currently set in a frown. “I was about to make a comment about the lowliness of an earl, but truth be told, you do actually appear troubled. Is something bothering you?”

Crest glanced across the room even as he drew in a long breath. “I am a bit troubled these days.” His eyes flicked closed for a moment. “I’ve been called home. It seems my father is quite ill.”

Luke turned toward Crest, his chest tight on his friend’s behalf. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

Crest shrugged. “Happens to all of us, doesn’t it?” Then the man straightened, waving his hand as though he could wave away the emotions. “But that wasn’t what I meant when I talked of the problems of the people who do not occupy the top rung of the social ladder.”

“Dare I ask?” he said, already sensing the thrust of this conversation. He’d been asked to break his reclusion to come here tonight, and now they were discussing the problems of some unknown person or people. Were the two connected?

Crest had the decency to wince. “I know I’ve mentioned my club to you before,” his voice dropped to a whisper. “The Wicked Earls’ Club.”

He had. A secret club that only inducted earls, they looked out for one another in addition to covering up each other's less than proper behavior. “You’re still part of that?”

Crest shrugged. “Yes. And I’ve a new member that requires a little extra help.”

Luke’s gut clenched. “Is this why I’m here?”

Crest didn’t exactly answer. “Darius is a good man. Hard working and kind, he was sixth in line for the earldom, but somehow…” Crest waved his hand again. “Still, he’s rising to the challenge. I’ll give him that.”

That was a relief. “Good for him.”

“Of course there were the legal issues,” Crest continued, staring out into the crowd.

“Legal issues?” Here it came.

“Don’t worry. The club is handling those. The fifth in line for Darius’s earldom died in a duel against Major Ainsworth.”

“Ainsworth?” Luke’s voice dropped low. He knew the man. Actually, he knew the entire family. He wasn’t sure there was a good one in the bunch. Well, perhaps one.

“That’s right.” Crest crossed his arms over his chest. “And you know how they can be.”

He did. Mean and insidious, they were the embodiment of the baser qualities that gave society a cruel reputation.

“If it were just Darius, I’d say he’d be fine. He’s handling the earldom, the legal issues are being sorted, and he’s found a wife.”

“Married?” Luke asked despite himself. It was a topic that had been on his mind a great deal of late. Especially after everything that had happened to him personally. He had to face the fact that he wouldn’t live forever, and one never knew what might happen tomorrow. It was time for him to shore up his line.

Crest nodded. “Lovely girl and a perfect complement to him. She comes from an excellent family, has a great deal of social grace.”

“Good for him,” Luke murmured.

“Indeed,” Crest replied. “But that leads me to the problem.”

Ah. The problem. He didn’t even bother to ask how the problem involved him. He knew that it did and having asked twice without receiving an answer, he also knew Crest wasn’t going to tell him until he was good and ready. Annoying git.

But Crest didn’t speak, and instead, the silence stretched out between them. All around them, people laughed and talked and flirted and snapped fans. But the two men said nothing. Luke straightened. Silence was his forte. With his parents deceased and his inability to travel, he’d been alone in his country estate for twenty long months. His back tightened at the memories and he stretched turning from side to side to loosen the muscles. Did Crest think to beat him in a contest of will?

“You’re not going to ask?” Crest finally grumbled.

“I’m not.”

Crest let out a long sigh. “So very dukely.” Then he shook his head. “Darius has three sisters.”

No. No, no, no. “Crest,” he said, his voice ringing with a warning.

Crest held up his hands. “I know you’re in no rush to wed. And you’re still recovering after the accident. I’m not asking you to seriously court one of them. Just…”

“Just?”

Crest pointed to a fern, tucked in the corner of the room. “See there?”

He looked at the fern, narrowing his gaze. A flash of white caught his notice. “Is that…”

“A girl. Lady Mariah Rutland to be exact. Sister to the new Earl of Darling. Painfully shy.” Crest’s jaw clenched as something Luke didn’t recognize passed over his face. “But truly lovely.”

Then he moved his fingers two clicks to the left. “And there, with her arms crossed, looking as though she hates this party as much as you, is the youngest sister, Lady Clarissa.”

Luke spotted the woman Crest referred to. Dark blonde with her chin notched at a jaunty angle, she did in fact look as though she were ill content. A feeling he could completely understand.

“And lastly, the eldest.” Crest turned toward the other side of the room and Luke followed the man’s gaze. He spotted her instantly. Her pale blonde hair was whisked back in an artful coif with several pieces falling about her face to soften her features. In a gown of white that shimmered in the candlelight, she laughed as she waved her fan, looking for the all the world, completely comfortable in her surroundings.

“Lady Tabetha Rutland,” Crest finished. “Eldest of the Rutland sisters.”

Luke’s brows arched. “All right.”

Crest turned his chin toward Luke, dropping his voice. “Each is struggling in her own way to gracefully enter society.”

“Might I point out that this is one of many reasons why a family only launches one girl at a time.”

Crest cleared his throat. “The mistake has already been made. It’s my job to lessen the extent of the damage and make certain that their situation draws to a happy conclusion.”

“Which involves me how?” he finally asked. They’d been dancing about the point for a while. It was time for Crest to answer.

Crest sighed. “I’d intended to enact the plan myself, but with my father…”

Luke’s jaw clenched. The man was about to ask a favor and with his father on his deathbed, there was little chance that Luke could say no. “The plan?”

“I was going to show favor to one of the Rutland girls. Not enough that I’d be compelled to ask for her hand, or that I’d damage her reputation, but just enough so that other gentleman might clamor for her attention.”

Luke couldn’t help it. He dropped his chin and raised his hand to rub the spot between his brows. It had just given a painful throb. “Crest.”

Crest held up both hands. “Listen. It’s just tonight and one other party. Maybe two. A single dance each night. Can you manage a dance with your back?”

He sighed. “Dancing is not the issue.”

“No,” Crest agreed. “I suppose it isn’t.”

Luke’s eyes travelled from one Rutland sister to the next. Lay favor on one of them? Ridiculous. But already, he could see it wasn’t. In fact, Crest had planned this from the start. A reclusive duke rejoins society and suddenly shows an interest in a new debutante. Everyone would assume that he’d come back to find a bride. And truth be told, he was about to do that very thing.

The girl he chose would have a clamor of other suitors, and as long as she quickly picked one, he could move on to a more suitable choice with no harm done.

Still. This sort of duplicity was not his style. He was straightforward, honest to a fault.

“Just a few balls,” Crest reiterated. “I wouldn’t ask, but I don’t have many other choices.”

“What of your club? Isn’t it full of other men who could help the ladies?”

Crest gave him a wry smile. ”It’s called the Wicked Earls’ Club for a reason. They’re not exactly the sort of men you knowingly set in a debutante’s path.”

“Fair point.” He looked at each girl again. “Fine. I’ll do as you ask for no more than three balls, this being the first.”

“Thank you,” Crest slapped his back, a relieved smile pulling at his lips. “I appreciate it. Tabetha will assuredly be thrilled.”

Tabetha? Wasn’t that the one talking and laughing? The very idea of it made him shudder. “No. Not her. Clarissa, I think. She’ll do.”

Crest’s smile slipped. “Clarissa?”

“Yes. We can not participate together. It will make these dreadful parties more bearable.”

Crest shook his head. “She’s the youngest. I know that Darius launched them all at once but…” He rubbed his jaw. “If you give your attention to the youngest, you might ruin the chances of the other two. It has to be Tabetha.”

His head gave another pulse of pain. “You’re attempting to torture me, aren’t you?”

Crest chuckled. “Not at all. In fact, I think Tabetha’s the most believable. Opposites attract and that sort of thing.”

Luke glared. How ridiculous.

“Come on, we’re well acquainted so I’ll make the introduction.” Crest started toward the girl.

If Luke were a cursing sort of man, this would be the perfect opportunity to insert a good strong word. He didn’t wish to meet Tabetha, and he certainly didn’t want to pretend to like a girl who was most likely vapid and silly.

But he found himself crossing the room, drawing nearer as a sense of doom settled on his shoulders, pulling them down.

With the crowd, the crossing took forever, and by the time they reached her, his head was steadily pounding.

He heard her laugh, a sound, that had to admit, chimed a bit like a tinkling bell. He was near enough to touch her and he could see she was slender in a feminine way, her graceful body accentuated by the high waist of her gown. She turned her profile toward them, her long lashes catching his attention first.

He noted her pretty little nose and the fullness of her lips next and finally the delicate flush of pink that stained her cheeks. Crest was right. The fiction would be believable, pretty as she was.

Crest grinned, touching Tabetha’s arm. “Excuse me, my lady,” he started but then another woman stepped up to join them. He might have groaned out loud. Lady Ainsworth. His earlier comments came back to the forefront of his thoughts. Nothing good ever happened when an Ainsworth was involved.

“My lord,” the matron gushed, giving a bright smile that rang of falsehood as her gaze travelled up and down Luke. “Thank you for having us. You remember my daughter, Miss Charlotte, of course?” And then she pulled a plain girl forward.

Luke took an inadvertent step back and to the side, wishing to physically distance himself from whatever scheme was brewing. This was why he disliked such events.

But as he moved, a soft body crashed into his arm. His head whipped around even as two small gloved hands clasped onto his bicep. “I beg your pardon,” Lady Tabetha gasped. “I was looking about the crowd and didn’t see you there.”

He opened his mouth to make his own apologies. But she barreled ahead before he could speak. “I hear there is a reclusive duke in attendance this evening. The excitement is too much to bear. I must find this man.”

Again, he opened his mouth to correct her. At least she hadn’t expressed her intent to marry him. Yet.

But before he could even ask why she’d wish to meet—well, him—she started talking again.

“Why do you think a duke chooses to be a recluse? Scarring? A stutter?” Her eyes widened. “Gout?”

“Goodness gracious,” Lady Ainsworth cut in. “Your imagination is really too much to bear. And your manners...” She trailed off with a tsk.

Lady Tabetha’s mouth snapped shut, color flooding her cheeks. In that moment, Luke actually felt a bit sorry for her. And a bit irritated too. Gout? A stutter? Really. This was precisely how rumors began. And the truth was difficult enough to face. He was a proud man from a proud family. He’d not wished to tell a soul that he’d fallen from his horse and broken his back.

He was recovering...slowly. But he still didn’t ride and bending often troubled him. Which was not something he wished to share, and that made Tabetha’s curiosity rather awkward.

In the face of Lady Ainsworth’s clear censure, the poor girl cast him a helpless glance as if he might come to her rescue. “Surely, we were all wondering,” she murmured. “Were we not?”

It was clear now that he ought to have come up with some excuse for his absence from society. But staring at the wide-eyed blonde with the pink cheeks, no excuses came to mind.

Which was why Lady Ainsworth was able to fill in the silence. “My Charlotte would never make such a gaff, Your Grace.”

Tabetha gasped next to him, her hand coming to cover her mouth, even as her eyes grew large. Lady Ainsworth had given the game away. He was the duke in question.

“Lady Tabetha is new to society and not trained for such interactions.” Lady Ainsworth gave Tabetha a look of feigned sympathy but her eyes betrayed her real feelings, remaining hard and triumphant. “It’s not your fault, dear. You can’t help being from the country. You haven’t been raised to represent an earldom.”

Tabetha gave an indiscernible squeak as a watery look filled her eyes. And then the girl spun, doing a remarkably good job of weaving her way through the crowd as she ran away.

Lady Ainsworth tsked. “That’s why self-control is so important.”

Crest leaned close. “Do you see now? That’s why Lady Tabetha needs help.”

Luke sighed. He did see. With a look to the ceiling, he began to follow.