The Duke’s Darling Debutante by Maggie Dallen

6

For once in her life, Tabetha did not laugh. She wanted to. It was painful not to, really. But she clamped her lips shut.

Until they were out of earshot of the others, that is.

When she glanced back and caught Miss Charlotte’s still-stricken expression some yards back, Tabetha finally gave in to the urge. She let out a peal of laughter that made her horse whinny in return.

“How did you do that?” she asked when she turned to face the duke.

“Do what?” His voice was bland, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes danced with laughter.

The sight took her breath away. He was a handsome man by anyone’s standards, but the way his stern appearance became so much more inviting and...well, human when he was amused?

She looked away as her heart burst into a gallop.

“How did you do it?” she repeated, her voice high with elation. “You just took Miss Charlotte down a peg and without even lifting a finger.”

“I should hope not,” he murmured. “It isn’t seemly to strike a lady.”

Her jaw fell as she gaped up at him. “You are teasing!”

Another delighted laugh escaped as his lips twitched in return. He stared straight ahead, but she caught the way his chest swelled as though he was awfully pleased with himself.

And well he should be.

“My brother once taught us how to fight.” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Her comment had him looking over, eyes wide with surprise.

She heard Evelyn’s voice in the back of her head telling her that this was most definitely not an appropriate topic of conversation. For a heartbeat she bit her tongue, telling herself to stop talking before she went any further.

But then again...

Evelyn wasn’t here, and Clarissa, still trailing behind, wouldn’t care at all if she overheard. But she likely wouldn’t. Her sister seemed to be giving her ample space, which Tabetha greatly appreciated. She glanced up at the duke who was waiting for her to continue. He didn’t look horrified, just intrigued.

And truly, if she hadn’t frightened him off already, he must not find her too scandalous to bear.

“Were you going somewhere with this story or did you just wish to put me on guard in case I grew too forward?” Again with the dancing eyes and the twitching lips.

Oh, he truly was too handsome when he was laughing. A rush of warmth swept through her and she dipped her head to hide the flush in her cheeks. She didn’t even care if his laughter was at her expense so long as his eyes were lit with that enigmatic gleam.

“My point was…” She looked up and found him waiting with an expectant smile. She pressed her lips together before blurting it out. “My point was that ever since we arrived in London, I’ve wished I could plant a facer.”

Clarissa let out a little squeak behind her that was somewhere between a shocked gasp and a strangled giggle at Tabetha’s audacity. So much for sisterly consideration.

“Is that so?” the duke asked, his voice strained.

She nodded. “It just seems so strange to me, the way everyone acts. So many smiles to my face, but not a hint of kindness when our backs are turned.”

She faced straight ahead, not wishing to see his sympathy. It wasn’t sympathy she wanted, just...a friend, she supposed. She had her sisters and her brother, and she adored her family. But they were all struggling as well, and each in their own way to fit into Society. His Grace, however, had managed to do what she and her family hadn’t—he’d stood up to the snooty, sanctimonious lot.

“If someone had cut me with the way Charlotte had back at home, I would have—well, not planted a facer, most likely,” she admitted with a rueful grin. “Even I am more refined than that. But I would have said something cutting and then told her she was a right cow and that I didn’t care what she thought of me.” She sighed, and her sigh was admittedly pathetic. “But I can’t do any such thing here, and so I find myself quite...useless in the face of their mockery and their scorn. Worse, I can’t even protect my sisters, and they most assuredly deserve to be treated better.”

“You deserve better too, Tabetha.” His voice was a low rumble, meant only for her. To her surprise, tears stung the back of her eyes at his words.

He was a polite man, most assuredly. He had all the dignity and grace one would hope from a gentleman of the peerage. And yet, he was unlike every other member of the ton she’d met these past few months.

He was kind. He didn’t look down upon her in judgment and he seemed to accept her, even if he was confused by her. For that she could not begin to measure her thanks.

She wasn’t certain he would understand the depths of her gratitude unless he understood her. Tabetha peeked up at him, his mouth set and his eyes dark as he waited for her to continue as though whatever she had to say was of the utmost importance.

She swallowed a thick swell of emotions at the sight, her fingers gripping his arm tighter because she wanted him to understand her—she wanted him to like her, as she liked him—and that was equally terrifying and exhilarating.

“What I mean to say is…” She drew in a deep breath. “My parents were kind and wonderful, and they raised my brother and sisters and me to enjoy life, to pursue our passions, to be...happy. But they did not prepare us for this.” She bit her lip. Did she sound like a fool to him? She couldn’t bring herself to look up and see, not until she was done. “Of course, no one could have foreseen that my brother would become an earl, and no one could have guessed that my sisters and I would have a true season in London.” She shook her head. Sometimes it still didn’t feel real. “Truly, I do understand that we have been blessed with this opportunity. And we’re doing our best to embrace it. But we were not meant for this, and I’m afraid the lessons we did learn have left us at a distinct disadvantage.”

“I don’t believe that is true.” He said it so solemnly, and in such low, intimate tones her breath caught in her throat.

She looked up into his earnest gaze. “No?”

He tucked her arm tighter to his side, a sort of gentle squeeze tugging her closer. “Not at all. Rules of society can be learned. Diplomacy and social skills can be acquired through practice. But kindness? Good humor? Selflessness? The ability to find the humor in any situation?” He shook his head. “Those can’t be taught.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Just because you do not always fit in does not mean you are lesser,” he continued. “Being different is not a flaw, but an asset.”

She was stunned into silence. For once in her life, she had no words. Not even laughter. She stared straight ahead in a shocked stupor until a turn in the path brought her back to her senses. “Where exactly are you leading us?” She glanced back to find her sister chatting amiably with her groom. She didn’t seem to mind that Tabetha was leading her into unknown territory.

“Just a little further,” the duke replied. After another twist in the path, they were well and fully out of the view of picnickers.

She arched a brow. “Should I be alarmed that you’ve led us astray?”

He laughed, a low chuckle that warmed her belly and made her limbs feel weak. “Not astray, Lady Tabetha. I brought you here because I thought you might like to know that while there certainly are times and places when a young lady such as yourself is expected to act with decorum and...trot, so to speak.” He glanced meaningfully at the barren stretch of land before them. “There are often opportunities for a brisk gallop. If you know where to look.”

She blinked up at him. “Do you mean…?” Her pulse quickened as she looked from him to the beckoning landscape and then back. “Could I really?”

He looked around meaningfully. “Only if you think you’re up for it.”

She laughed. “Of course I am.”

His answering grin made her heart do a flip in her chest.

“Why are we stopping?” Clarissa called from behind.

“Would you mind if I go for a quick ride?” she asked her sister, all her breathless excitement on full display.

Clarissa rolled her eyes as she understood her meaning, but she wore a small, indulgent smile. “Of course not. Have at it.”

Tabetha turned back to the duke with a broad grin. “Would you mind giving me a hand?” The moment the words were out, she gasped in horror. “What am I thinking? Of course you can’t assist me. You’re a duke, for heaven’s sake. And you’re injured, to boot. I’m such a silly—”

His hands at her waist stopped her. She froze with her lips parted and when she looked up…

Oh dear.Her heart turned frantic at the dark gleam in his eyes as he leaned in closer. Her sister and the footman were near, but the horse blocked them from view. They might as well have been alone. His gaze fell to her lips, and the look then turned even darker. The air seemed to thicken between them, and his hands at her waist seemed to burn through the fabric of her gown.

The horse whinnied, and the duke gave his head a little shake, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I may be a duke, and I am indeed recovering from an injury, but it would be my honor to assist you, Lady Tabetha.”

The warmth in his tone could be felt all the way to her toes. She tried to swallow, her mouth too dry to speak.

He didn’t wait for a reply as he helped her into the saddle. When she had the reins in hand and was about to bid him farewell, he stopped her once more. “Lady Tabetha, might I call upon you later?”

She blinked. Of all the times to go speechless, it had to be now. When a duke—nay, when the duke—was asking to call upon her.

His upturned lips gave him a smug appearance, as though he knew very well what he was doing to her.

She was glad he did, because she had no idea what was happening here.

She managed to fumble through a time and address.

“I shall look forward to calling upon you soon,” he said.

He started to walk away, and she nudged her horse into action. She needed to gallop. She needed to feel the wind in her hair and the breeze against her cheeks. Most of all she needed to fly. It was the only sensation that could match what she was feeling. Elation. Excitement. She laughed aloud as the air whipped around her and the horse galloped at full speed.

She’d been trying so hard to keep her hopes low. He was a duke, after all. Not meant for the likes of her. But he’d asked to call upon her, and his kind words were still swirling about in her thoughts. And the fact that he’d brought her here. For this.

She let out a whoop of joy as she rode with abandon.

He truly did understand her. And he seemed to like her, too, just as she liked him. And she did like him. She just barely squelched a girlish squeal. She liked him very much, indeed.

Her mind filled with visions of his smile, his laughter, the dark look in his eyes as his gaze had fallen to her lips…

Perhaps it was safe to hope, after all.

Even as they headed back to the stables a little while later, and then as they walked back home, that wonderful hope still raced through her veins, making her heart pound and her whole body vibrate with excitement.

By the time they strolled through the doors of her brother’s townhome, Tabetha felt as though she were walking on air.

She’d found a gentleman who not only overlooked her more tactless tendencies, but actually found them to be an asset. She sighed happily, ignoring Clarissa’s exasperated eye roll as they joined the rest of the family in the drawing room.

Mariah was reading, Evelyn was working on her embroidery, and her brother was glowering at some correspondence in his hands.

“Don’t you look cheerful, Tabetha,” Mariah said with a smile as they entered. “Did something happen?”

Clarissa groaned. “Don’t ask. You’ll wind up hearing an earful about the wonderful and charming Duke of Walton.” She adopted a silly, breathless tone, mimicking Tabetha, which had Tabetha scowling at her youngest sister.

Although, her scowl held little heat. Her sister was right. She’d no doubt been insufferable this afternoon. But how could it be helped?

She flopped down onto the settee beside Mariah with another dreamy sigh. A duke liked her. He really, truly liked her. Nothing could dampen her spirits today, not even Clarissa’s mockery.

“The Duke of Walton?” Darius lifted his head from what he was reading, but his glower was still firmly in place. If anything, it grew darker.

“Oh yes, brother,” Clarissa said with a laugh as she sat in the seat closest to his. “Haven’t you heard? Our dear eldest sister has a suitor. And he’s a duke.” Clarissa’s eyes and voice were filled with laughter as she teased Tabetha, but Tabetha was more interested in Darius’s response. Which was to scowl.

To a casual observer, this would not be so alarming. Scowls and glares were his natural state. But Tabetha knew her brother better than most, and this particular scowl…

She felt an anxious lurch in her belly. “Why do you seem so displeased to hear it?” she asked. “I thought you approved of the duke.”

“What’s not to approve of?” Evelyn chimed in. “He’s a duke.”

“A handsome one at that,” Clarissa added.

“And polite,” Mariah said.

Tabetha looked from her equally confused sisters to her brother, who wasn’t just irritated at the mention of the duke. He seemed outright uncomfortable. “Er, Tabetha, I think it’s best if you and I talked in private.”

Now it was Tabetha’s turn to scowl as her belly filled with dread. “What is it? Just tell me.”

He held up the missive he’d been reading with a weary exhale. “I’ve received correspondence from the Earl of Havercrest. It’s about you, Tabetha.” He winced. “You and the duke.”