The Duke’s Darling Debutante by Maggie Dallen

12

Only a few weeks into her very first season, and Tabetha was officially exhausted.

“Are you certain we needed to make an appearance this evening?” she asked Evelyn for the fifth time.

Evelyn arched her brows. “I’m certain.”

Darius led Tabetha by her elbow as though he were afraid she might bolt and run away from the crush in the Wilkinson’s foyer if he let go.

She sighed. He wasn’t wrong. She might have spent the entire carriage ride here coming up with ways she might escape and head back home.

“It’s essential, Tabetha,” Darius said softly. His voice was low and gruff, but not unkind. “I’ve spoken to the Claremonts and they’ve assured me of their discretion until this matter is settled, but we need to show a united front for society’s sake.”

“Listen to you,” Clarissa said from behind them, her voice light with laughter. She dropped her voice several octaves as she mimicked him. “A united front for society’s sake.”

Tabetha snickered, and even Mariah and Evelyn giggled on Darius’s other side.

“When did you become such a pillar of social grace, Darius?” Clarissa continued.

Darius’s sigh was filled with exasperation. “One of us had to adapt.”

Clarissa’s answering laughter was a little too loud and the other guests walking in front of them turned back to stare. “Touché, brother.”

Tabetha smiled at the sound of her sister’s laughter. She was glad someone would be enjoying their evening, for it certainly wouldn’t be Tabetha.

Would Luke come? She glanced left and right as Darius led her inside. Would he be here tonight?

The better question was—did she want him to come?

Yes!

No.

She bit her lip. Maybe? She ached to see him again, but a part of her feared it as well. What would she say? What would he say?

And then it happened. The party guests filing in behind them began to speak, and the topic?

Luke.

“Do you think the Duke of Walton will be here?” a young lady asked.

“I should think so,” the girl’s companion said. “I’ve heard from those closest to him that he’s in search of a bride.”

Tabetha tensed. Her stomach roiled. Darius’s grip tightened. “Steady, Tabby.”

She nodded, drawing in a deep inhale as she fought for calm. Of course he was looking for a wife. This was not new information. She’d known it from the start.

She just hadn’t given much thought to how it would feel to watch him court another. She bit back a moan at the thought. She couldn’t even picture him dancing with another lady without feeling as though she might fall to pieces.

Clarissa’s voice was a loud stage whisper in her ear as she leaned forward over Tabetha’s shoulder. “That bride could be you if you’d quit being a nincompoop.”

Tabetha let out a hiss through her teeth as Mariah chided gently, “Not now, Clarissa.”

“She’s not wrong,” Darius muttered.

“Will everyone please refrain from discussing our personal affairs in public?” Evelyn managed to say through clenched teeth and a smile. “We can continue this conversation at home.”

Silence fell over the family at that. They managed to move forward in the line three paces before Clarissa broke the unspoken truce. “What will you do if the duke tries to speak to you again tonight?”

“It’s like I’m speaking to myself,” Evelyn sighed. “I don’t know why I even bother.”

“There, there, love,” Darius said to his wife. “We appreciate you and all your lessons.”

“One day we’ll be just as proper as can be, thanks to your tutelage,” Mariah assured her.

“Just not today,” Clarissa finished, before turning her attention to Tabetha once more. “Honestly, Tabetha, you can’t expect the man to just...walk away.”

“I can, and I do,” Tabetha said stiffly.

“But what if he—”

“He won’t,” Tabetha said.

“Yes, if he is here tonight—”

“Then I shall avoid confrontation,” she said. Tabetha was fairly certain she heard Evelyn sigh with relief.

“How?” Clarissa demanded.

Tabetha shrugged. “I shall avoid all interactions.” She looked over her shoulder at her headstrong sister. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Clarissa deadpanned. “But again...how?”

Tabetha huffed. Why was Clarissa bothering her like this? “It’s not as though I expect him to seek me out. Not after…” She trailed off, but she was fairly certain she heard every member of her family groan at the memory of Luke’s interruption the other day.

“And if he does?” Mariah asked.

Tabetha shot Mariah a glance that said, not you too. But her response was, “Then I suppose I shall hide.”

“Not again,” Mariah sighed.

Evelyn leaned forward to address Tabetha. “I mean no offense, Tabetha, but hiding is really not your forté.”

To Tabetha’s surprise, her brother let out a little grunt of amusement. “Neither is espionage.”

Tabetha frowned. “What does that mean?”

But Darius was exchanging an obnoxiously knowing smile with his wife, and Tabetha was absolutely positive that they were laughing at her expense.

Evelyn confirmed it when she said quietly to Darius. “It feels like forever ago since I first met you and your sister.”

Tabetha sighed. Wonderful. Even her own family was laughing at her, her youngest sister seemed to have taken offense on Luke’s behalf, and Mariah…

“You’ll let me hide with you, won’t you, Mariah?”

Her sweet, angelic sister smiled. “No, dear. I’m afraid not.”

A moment later they were inside, and Tabetha was scowling in irritation as they were announced. But a little while later, she became aware of an entirely new irritation by the name of Clarence Claremont.

“Would you like a glass of ratafia?” he asked.

“No, thank you.” She bit her lip to keep from pointing out that the answer had been ‘no, thank you’ the last twelve times he’d asked.

“Shall I tell you more about my latest polo match?” he asked.

“Mmm.” That was all that was required of her before he was off and running. It seemed the only thing Claremont had any interest in was athletic competitions. Which was all well and fine except that Tabetha had nothing to contribute to the conversation.

Nor, it seemed, was she expected to.

But at least she had not seen hide nor hair of the duke, so she could be at peace knowing that while she might be forced to watch him dance with another lady at some point in time—that point in time would not be tonight.

She sighed as she let her gaze roam over the crowd around them. Her sisters were close by, as was Clarence’s mother, who was beaming at them as though they were doing something altogether charming and not just standing in a crush sweating from the heat and taking turns boring one another to tears.

Clarence’s voice had become a dull, soothing background noise as he spouted off a seemingly endless list of statistics for some sport she knew not how to play. She was getting quite drowsy, and not in a bad way, when Clarence cut himself off with an oath. “I cannot believe he came after the spectacle he caused the other night.”

He. Tabetha stiffened. No, but surely it couldn’t be—

It was.

She saw him walk through the ballroom doorway. She felt him enter, if that was even possible. Her whole body went tense and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest at the sight of him.

He looked more handsome than ever. How was that possible?

It was also unfair, because Tabetha knew quite well that she was looking far worse than usual after two days of tears and misery.

But then, she was the one who was heartbroken. If she’d needed any further proof that his heart had not been invested in his newfound relationship with her, his excessively handsome appearance tonight seemed to confirm that fact.

The entire crowd of partygoers seemed to see the duke at once, and Tabetha could hear the lowered voices, the excited whispers, the girlish giggles. That was the response any eligible duke would receive, she supposed. But tonight, the response felt personal. The complete opposite reaction that she and her family received whenever they entered a room filled with the ton, and a reminder that he was him, and she was her. Their relationship had never been meant to be.

Her family seemed to shift as one, moving closer and surrounding her for support. Tears stung the back of her eyes—that seemed to be happening quite a bit lately. But right now, her primary emotion wasn’t sadness but gratitude. Whether her family agreed with her or not, they were on her side. Always. And for that she was eternally grateful.

She watched the duke, waiting for him to be swallowed up by the crowd. But he lingered there at the edge of the party, his gaze roaming over the guests until—

She gasped when his gaze landed on her and stayed.

She blinked in surprise as she caught the corners of his lips curving up. It was ever so slight, but she caught his smile. Even through this crush of people, there was no denying that he’d sought her out.

He’d sought her out, and now she couldn’t look away.

At least, she wasn’t able to until Clarence moved to stand in front of her, his face red from heat and his expression eager. “Would you like to hear more about the—”

“Do you know,” she cut him off loudly, and perhaps rudely. “I should like something to drink after all.”

He brightened as though this was delightful news. “I shall be back momentarily.”

She forced a smile. “Take your time.”

The moment he disappeared into the crowd, she moved to flee as well. Her heart was beating furiously, her pulse a nervous flutter in her veins. The urge to escape was real. It was instinct. The same sort of blind urge that compelled a mouse to run from a cat.

She frowned as she pushed her way past her well-meaning family and ignored their questions of concern.

The look in his eyes. The way he’d sought her out…

He wouldn’t ignore her the way she’d hoped. Well, not hoped. Expected. But now it seemed she’d been wrong and he wanted to talk. To convince her to let him do the noble thing, no doubt.

Her skirts rustled about her ankles as she moved swiftly along the outskirts of the room. She’d be lectured at length tonight for leaving the party without a chaperone. But she was in a crowd, after all. Surely that was all right.

And it was one night. Just one night she had to get through without seeing the duke, without letting him corner her. For if he did… If he attempted to convince her to marry him…

She bit her lip as she stifled a sob.

There was a very good chance she would cave. And that she could not allow.

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was heading, but when her gaze alighted upon a group of potted plants in a far corner, she knew what she had to do.

She thought of her siblings’ laughter at her expense earlier with a frown. So they thought she couldn’t hide, did they?

Tonight she’d prove them wrong.

When she reached the edges of the ferns, so close that the fronds were tickling her arms, she paused to assess the crowd around her. When she was certain no one was looking, she backed up ever so slightly until—

“Oh!” She gasped in shock as hands gripped her waist and pulled her backwards until she was entirely hidden by the foliage. “What on earth—”

Her words died as she whipped around, her skirts tangling and her tongue thoroughly tied.

“Good evening, Tabetha.” Luke wore a smirk, and that smug little smile made her think one clear, coherent thought—the cat had snared the mouse.

She was fully aware that her lips were still parted, her eyes painfully wide. “What are you doing back here?”

His smirk turned to a grin that made her knees go weak. “Waiting for you, of course.”

She blinked rapidly, her heart tripping over itself in its quest to decide whether she was shocked, horrified, or overjoyed.

Or maybe a little of each. She clapped a hand to her chest. “You startled me.”

“Apologies.” His expression said he was not sorry. Not even a little.

She dropped her hand, trying her best to remember what she was supposed to say and do.

It was difficult when all she wanted to do was throw herself into his arms and apologize for the horrid things he’d heard her say. All she truly wanted was to weep against his chest and tell him she loved him and couldn’t imagine anything greater than being his wife.

Her lips were still parted. Her eyes were still wide.

That was precisely what she could not do or say. So instead, she asked the one question she could form. “How did you know I’d come here?”

He laughed, and the sound was...well, it was marvelous. It was low and rich, and her insides melted to heated jelly at the sound of it.

He leaned in slightly, his eyes dancing with mischief that most would never see. “You Rutlands are many things. Stubborn, proud, witty, clever, and kind as can be…”

She arched her brows.

“But you’re also predictable,” he said, casting a meaningful glance around the fern-lined hiding spot. “I wonder where you inherited such a fondness for potted plants.”

His voice held a note of idle curiosity. Like they were standing in the midst of Grosvenor Square discussing the weather for the coming week and not hiding alone together in the midst of a crowded ballroom.

She straightened, fear replacing her shock. “We cannot be caught back here.”

His gaze met hers and she felt it like a jolt in her spine. “No, indeed we cannot.”

She swallowed down a flicker of disappointment. It was good that he’d agreed. But then… Why had he come back here in the first place?

She wanted to ask, but she wanted to save them both from more scandal. “Right. I shall go first, then. And you—” She stopped short when he reached her arm and tugged. “What are you doing?”

His smile made her think of a cat again. But not a barnyard cat, or one that lurked in alleys. Oh no, this smile reminded her of one of those large, lethal cats she’d seen pictures of when reading about other continents.

“We cannot be caught alone together here, but I’m not losing my chance to speak with you.”

“I don’t—what does that—” And then her gaze fell to see what he’d snagged. Her dance card and the pencil that went with it. “You wish to...dance with me?”

Confusion and surprise had her voice rising, and they both glanced over her shoulder toward the party beyond. She held her breath, half expecting Clarence or his mother to come sweeping through the fronds to tear her away from him. She leaned out a little further to see if it was clear for her to leave without causing any undue attention to herself...or their hiding spot.

After watching for several heartbeats, she turned back to find him scrawling his name, no doubt claiming a waltz so they might speak without anyone else listening in. Her stomach clenched at the thought, and yet again, she could not quite say if it was with excitement or fear over the dance to come.

She held her hand out to take back the card. “I think I can slip out now without creating a scene.”

“Then I shall see you for our dance,” he said. His low voice made it sound like a sacred promise. A vow.

She shivered at the intensity in his gaze, and now it was most definitely fear that filled her belly and made her hands shake.

How on earth was she supposed to feign indifference to the man when he held her in his arms? And how could she convince him to walk away from what he believed to be the noble deed in order to have the life he deserved?

Those thoughts swirled in her head, making her feel dizzy as she slipped out, blending once more into the crowd, who were oblivious to the girl who had just stepped out of the woodwork.

She spotted Mariah and Clarissa at the far edge of the ballroom and headed toward them. Even before she reached their side, she knew what she had to do.

After all, she’d feigned an injury once to avoid a dance. She could certainly do it again.

“Are you well?” Mariah asked when Tabetha reached them. “You look flushed.”

“I’m all right,” she said. And she would be, just as soon as the waltz he’d claim came and went. She reached for her dance card to see which one that might be. The sooner the better would be—

She stopped short, her breath leaving her lungs in one long, loud whoosh.

Clarissa’s hand came to her shoulder. “Tabetha? What is it?”

She shook her head as her gaze moved over her dance card in disbelief.

He hadn’t claimed a waltz. Or rather, he hadn’t only claimed the waltz.

Clarissa leaned over her shoulder, her voice filled with delight. “He claimed every last one!”