The Duke’s Darling Debutante by Maggie Dallen

5

The afternoon sun shone brightly down on Hyde Park as Luke stood under the shade of a particularly large willow tree.

Which should have been pleasant.

It was one of those perfect days where it was neither too hot nor too cold, and the sun was bright and warm, but the shade crisp and cool. And so the attendees of the picnic found themselves standing in the exact right temperature. Coupled with that, the scent of fresh flowers and new grass abounded. Luke drew in a whiff, reveling in the fact that something within the city might smell this good.

It was almost like being home.

And yet, the effect of the perfect weather was significantly dampened by...well, the company.

“Can you believe it?” Miss Charlotte said next to him, her voice dropping low, disdain evident in her tone. “She actually allowed her petticoats to show. How absolutely dreadful.”

The other girls who stood in their circle snickered behind their fans. Luke attempted not to roll his eyes.

He’d come to this picnic on a lark. He’d received an invitation, and while he still had to fulfill his obligation to Crest to show favor to Lady Tabetha, there was no reason he couldn’t begin his search for a bride. After all, that was why he’d come to London for the season in the first place.

How he’d been cornered by Miss Charlotte Ainsworth was still a bit of a mystery, but regardless of how it had happened, he was now trapped in conversation with the mean-spirited girl and her persnickety friends.

“Dreadful,” another one of the ladies repeated, eyeing him over her fluttering fan. He’d already forgotten her name, not that it mattered.

While she was surely pretty, he couldn’t tell with the fan moving at such a rapid speed, she’d not had an original thought the entire conversation. None of them had.

They figuratively and literally fawned over Miss Charlotte as she disparaged one person after the other. The entire experience was dreadful.

He’d have to discern the other ladies’ names if for no other reason than he could cross them off his mental list. None of these women would be suitable in the role of duchess. At least not his duchess.

He shook his head, staring out between the low-hanging branches of the tree. When had original thoughts and kindness become two of his qualifiers?

His eyes closed because the moment he posed the question, he knew the answer. Since meeting Tabetha.

Which was ridiculous. He needed a woman who was noble in her bearing, and ready to take on the vast responsibility of a dukedom.

But then his brows drew together. Surely, his mother had been exactly that. And he’d loved his mother—of course, he did. But he, so much like his father, had already established that he needed something different.

Warmer. That much had already been clear.

“Your Grace,” one of the ladies, whose name he could not remember, spoke in that breathy sort of voice that sounded as though this conversation were the most exciting event of her entire life, while in fact, it had been one of the most tedious Luke could remember. “Don’t you agree?” she asked.

Blast. The conversation had moved on without him and he’d lost the thread entirely. “Mmm,” he said in lieu of an actual answer. It was yet another advantage to being an aloof duke. He needn’t answer if he didn’t wish to.

“Well I think you’re exactly right,” Miss Charlotte continued even as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. It was a gesture of a woman who thought herself in charge of this conversation. In charge of him. Did she think she was proving her value by denigrating others?

She looked up at him with the sort of cloying smile that turned his stomach. “While His Grace was the very definition of gracious, her behavior was beyond reprehensible. Not that I’d expect anything different. Complete disasters, the lot of them.”

For a moment, Luke stared at her in confusion. Who was she discussing with such disdain? Then his stomach clenched. Charlotte was referring to Tabetha, of course. Hadn’t they been discussing every minor error of every debutante from last night’s ball? Of course, Tabetha’s name was bound to come up.

“The Darling sisters must be the most awkward debutantes to ever be unleashed on society.” Charlotte finished with a look of triumph, her chin notching up with her victory.

Gently, he removed his arm from under Charlotte’s hand even as he took a small step away. Luke had no intention of misleading Miss Charlotte. He wished to make himself very clear on that topic. In fact, he’d like to also make it known that Tabetha was not clumsy, only unfailingly kind. But he couldn’t defend Tabetha without revealing the truth.

He’d spent his life cultivating an image of perfection. Every move he made was meant to portray power and confidence. And every time he made a public mistake, he diminished his appearance, which took away from his actual usefulness. If people didn’t have confidence in a man, how could they trust him? Especially one of his position.

But right now, in this moment, he cared far less about Miss Charlotte and her friends’ opinion of him and far more about Tabetha’s reputation.

How could he allow her to be disparaged on his behalf?

Charlotte’s brows drew together, confusion clouding her eyes at his decisive move away from her. Then her lips pressed into a thin, firm line, her gaze growing hard.

Luke’s shoulders stiffened. “Ladies, I have to confess that you misunderstood last night’s events.”

One of them giggled. A nasally sound that grated on his ears.

“So kind of you,” Charlotte replied, her voice practically dripping with disdain. “But we all know that our bumbling friend, Lady Tabeth—”

“Speak of the devil,” another one of them cried. “Here she comes.”

Luke’s head swiveled around, scanning the park.

Not twenty yards away, Lady Tabetha came toward their party atop a large mount, sidesaddle. He grinned to see it, knowing how she felt about riding in that style. She wore a riding habit of rich blue velvet, her hat plumed with several feathers as she slowly trotted toward them. Her thick blonde hair was elaborately twisted into a complicated coif that left a mass of curls trailing over one shoulder.

A warm, rich feeling spread through him.

Not only did she look stunning, the habit skimming her curves in a most flattering fit. But she rode, even sidesaddle, with an ease that left little doubt about her skill as a horsewoman. Tabetha was breathtaking.

Unwittingly, he took a step closer to the path and then another, coming out from under the branches. Almost as though he was drawn to her, his feet moved of their own accord. “Good afternoon,” he called as he waved his hand.

With a flick of her wrist, the animal kicked up his heels, moving faster toward him. Just behind her, was her sister Lady Clarissa and a groom, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away from Tabetha, as her body gracefully moved with the horse.

“Good afternoon,” she called back, giving him a large, open smile. As sincere as it was charming. His chest grew tight to see her in such splendor.

She stopped just next to him, and without thought, he reached up a hand to help her down. Her gloved fingers slid into his, their hands fitting together perfectly. His other hand came to her waist, his palm fitting into the curve as he lifted her down. “How was the rest of your evening?”

She landed, her body close to his. So close, he caught a whiff of her light scent. Jasmine. He drew in a deep breath, thinking of summer fields.

But instead of answering, her gaze slid behind him, her smile slipping from her face.

Still holding her fingers in his, he looked back too, only to realize that Miss Charlotte and her group of worshippers had followed him out from under the tree. They stood in a cluster behind him, their gazes ranging from curiosity to animosity.

Tabetha cleared her throat. “Very good, thank you. And you?”

He turned back to Tabetha, ignoring the other women. “Very nice.” He’d left the party just after their dance and returned to his townhome. Which had made his evening reasonably pleasant after all. “I see you’re enjoying this fine afternoon.”

Her nose gave a slight wrinkle. “I’m attempting to....trot.”

He laughed then. Something, he realized he did far more often in her presence. “And how does it fair? Trotting?”

“Rather dull.” Her voice had dropped low as she spoke the words. “But I have to confess that my sister enjoys the light pace.” She waved back to where her Lady Clarissa had stopped some feet away. “And I’ve seen a great deal, even if I haven’t myself been...seen.”

“I see.” He looked around too and realized that several parties had stopped to note the favor he was currently paying to her. “Then I should warn you. They see you now.”

Her own gaze widened as her head swiveled about. “I suppose they do.”

“Lady Tabetha,” Charlotte called from just behind him. “How nice to see you’re not overly injured after your fall last night.”

Tabetha gave another smile, but unlike the last, this one appeared stretched. Forced. “Thank you, Miss Charlotte. Most kind of you to be concerned.”

Luke’s jaw hardened as he gave Charlotte what he hoped was a withering glare. But rather than look intimidated, her gaze narrowed furthered. He had to give the lady credit on one account. She was tenacious.

“Of course I’m concerned. The biggest event of the season begins tomorrow. Everyone who is anyone will be attending the Marquess of Arundel’s house party this weekend. You wouldn’t want to be injured for such an event.”

Tabetha’s fingers slid from his, but not before he caught the slight tremble. She drew in a long slow breath. “Again. Most kind. But you needn’t worry. I’m not…” Her words halted.

Inwardly, he winced. She hadn’t been invited. Which was understandable. They were new to society and the invitations had likely gone out weeks ago. Point in case, he hadn’t received one either, as he was a late arrival to Town, and an unexpected one. And while many rushed to send out last minute invites to a duke, they likely had not laid the same favor on Tabetha and her family.

The Marchioness of Arundel had not seen fit to send him a last minute invite either, which he actually counted as a point in her favor. It was an obvious move, when hostesses did that, one that spoke of a person in need of society's approval. If he were honest, he’d like to meet the couple. They seemed like the sort he might enjoy. They didn’t clamor for favor like so many others.

But Lord and Lady Arundel were a topic for another time. Because right now, Tabetha needed him. And he owed her a favor or two.

Charlotte gave a fake gasp. “Not invited? How dreadful. Surely it’s a mistake because as I said, everyone who is actually important is on the list.”

He watched the color drain from Tabetha’s face. His jaw flexed and then hardened as he turned half around. “Pity. I’m not invited either. What does that say about me?”

Luke heard Tabetha’s gasp behind him. Heard the titters of Charlotte’s fluttering friends. Watched Charlotte’s mouth open and close as finally, nasty words failed her. He didn’t bother to say more as he turned back to Tabetha. Gently he took her hand in his once again. “I find my legs need a stretch after being idle for so long. Would you care to walk with me?”

Tabetha’s eyes, wide as saucers, blinked several times as she gave a tentative nod. Satisfaction rippled through him. Not only was he glad to finally be rid of Charlotte’s company, but he found himself genuinely looking forward to time with Tabetha.

“Good day, ladies.” He addressed the women behind him without a single glance back as he took the reins of Tabetha’s horse and let go of her hand to offer his elbow.

His perfect image could hang for all he cared. In this moment, Tabetha, the woman who’d raced to his rescue twice last night, was far more important than a group of vapid ladies and their opinions.

Her palm pressed to the inside of his elbow, her fingers lightly resting against his jacket. They started down the path, leaving Charlotte behind, the eyes of London upon them.