Duke of Wicked Intentions by Harriet Caves

Chapter Three

When Benedict and Mortimer strolled into Lord Henley’s ball, he felt the eyes of nearly everyone they passed by lock on to him. At the announcement of their arrival by the Master of Ceremonies, the attention of every marriage-focused mother within earshot focused in on them.

Benedict ignored the stares as best he could. His eyes swept across the crowd as he and Mortimer ventured further inside. He sought out the golden hair and bright-green gaze set into the all-too-familiar face of Lady Miranda. The last time he’d seen her, she’d been a pretty little thing on the verge of full womanhood. He imagined she’d still be adorable, likely prettier, but not that changed from when they were younger.

After several moments, though, he began to wonder if she was actually in attendance at all. Surely it wouldn’t be quite this hard to find her?

Mortimer suddenly elbowed him in the side. “Benedict, look just there. Isn’t that–?”

Benedict looked in the direction that Mortimer was pointing, and for a moment, he could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. There, looking like a shining goddess, stood Miranda.

She had become more beautiful than he could’ve anticipated, and he hardly recognized her at first. She was, of course, still petite, but she now possessed curves that his fingers itched to explore. Her face, on the other hand, had thinned out, and she’d lost the baby cheeks that had made her look cute rather than gorgeous. She had her long blonde hair held up in an elegant chignon, and her fashionable blue gown was a far cry from the simple dresses she used to wear that she didn’t fear dirtying.

Benedict didn’t realize just how long he’d been staring at her until Mortimer cleared his throat loudly.

“Ah, yes, I can see that you have absolutely no lingering interest left in that woman,” his friend teased him dryly. “None whatsoever. She is most definitely not the reason we are here tonight instead of enjoying the company of some very loose women.”

Benedict tensed, snapping his gaze away from Miranda to shoot his friend an incredulous look. “I am not interested in her,” he insisted forcefully. “She just…caught me off-guard with how much she’s changed, that’s all.”

Mortimer arched a brow, looking far from convinced. “If this whole plot is some ill-conceived attempt to rekindle your relationship with that woman, even after what she did to you, I will have no choice but to beat some sense into your idiotic head.”

Benedict furrowed his brow in irritation even as he felt his cheeks heat with embarrassment. This was not how he wanted this night to begin. He’d imagined himself striding into the ball, catching her attention right away, and watching her expression grow flustered as she stared at him and realized just how wrong she’d been to write that cursed letter to him. Yet, that was not how things were playing out. He was the one flustered by her beauty, and she hadn’t even noticed him yet.

Irritated and with his pride threatened, he snapped at Mortimer, “I can prove to you that I’ve not lingering affections for Lady Miranda.”

“Oh? How so?” Mortimer asked in an indulgent tone, as if he were speaking to a child.

Benedict gave him is cockiest smirk. “She is far from the only lovely lady present tonight. It’ll be no chore flirting my way through this ballroom, ignoring her completely.”

“Is that so?” Mortimer chuckled. “Well then, I wish you all the best, My Friend. I believe I’ll have to find some entertainment of my own. Might as well make the best of the night, shouldn’t I?”

Benedict nodded and clapped his friend on his shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck, though I doubt you’ll have more fun than me.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Mortimer declared with a wide grin.

Benedict smirked, a bubbling of excitement rising up within him.

“Not a challenge, Mortimer. Just the truth.”

Both men let out barks of laughter and then turned to go in their own directions and find out just what kind of trouble they could get into with the social elite of the ton.

* * *

Miranda was getting rather tired of the constant press of people around her. It didn’t help her patience any she was being constantly badgered by gentleman vying for her attention. She couldn’t seem to get a word in with any of her friends who were present, because nearly every moment she turned around, yet another man was there asking her for a dance or a stroll about the room.

It was exhausting. As Miranda weaved her way through the gathered partygoers, she felt very much like she was running away, which annoyed her. She didn’t like to feel like prey, but it had become very clear as the evening had progressed that she was no better than a doe in the sights of eager hunters.

Reaching the edge of the crowd, Miranda was relieved to find a servant holding a tray of champagne flutes. She took one with a thankful smile toward the liveried man and turned to watch the goings-on of the ballroom with her back nearly pressed against a wall. Her eyes skimmed toward the dance floor, where Rowena was matched up with a kindly gentleman. Her friend looked to be enjoying herself, which made Miranda smile. The gentleman, Lord Davis, was a Baron, and so wasn’t as concerned with Rowena’s position within the nobility as other men were.

Sighing, Miranda took a long drink of her champagne. The bubbles tickled her nose and the liquid felt warm sliding down her throat to her belly.

What a sad sight I must be. A young lady of marriageable age keeping to herself on the fringes, hoping that no gentleman comes to talk to her. Such actions would be considered blasphemous by most women of the ton.

If her father could see her, he’d no doubt be baffled by her behavior. Not that he would do much to correct her, however. He wasn’t one to make her do things she didn’t want to do.

Miranda finished off her champagne and was just about to hunt down another one when she noticed someone approaching her out of the corner of her eye. Turning, she bit back a groan at the sight of Lord Danwich, an older gentleman who seemed to have set his sights on Miranda as his top choice for a bride, much to her bafflement. He often sought her out during social gatherings such as this one. As far as she could tell from their various interactions, they had very little in common, but that didn’t seem to bother him.

“Lady Miranda, such a pleasure to see you,” he said, stopping and bowing before her.

Miranda forced a smile and inclined her head, wishing she had that second glass of champagne.

“Lord Danwich, good evening. I didn’t realize you would be in attendance tonight.”

His smile was wide. “Oh, you know how much I enjoy such gatherings, and when I learned that you would be here, well…I couldn’t resist.”

Miranda caught herself before she visibly cringed. “Ah, that’s nice to hear,” she replied, unsure of what else she could say in response.

Lord Danwich glanced around and then asked her, “What are you doing by yourself over here? Do you not wish to dance?”

Miranda blinked, a little taken aback that he would ask such a blunt question. “Uh…I am rather tired, and decided I need to take a little break.”

He nodded, as if in understanding. “Ah, yes, I see. That’s understandable. The female constitution is so delicate, it’s important that you know to take care and not push yourself beyond your capabilities.”

Jaw clenched, Miranda literally had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping a retort at him. It wasn’t a surprising comment on his part, though. He’d often made such condescending and belittling statements to her before. What stunned her was that he was completely unaware of how offensive saying such things to her was. It grated on her nerves and simply reaffirmed what she’d already concluded, which was that they were not a good match for each other.

Wanting to get away from him completely, she nodded, as if in agreement. “Yes, well, I believe I should actually go outside and get some fresh air, My Lord. I’m feeling somewhat faint as I stand here.”

He appeared concerned at that. “I shall accompany you.”

“Oh, no, that’s unnecessary,” she quickly insisted, holding up her hands and shaking her head. “I appreciate the offer, but I would hate to take you away from the ball. I’m sure there are many people who would like nothing more than your company, and I would hate to deprive them of that.”

The thin man preened like a peacock at her words. Another mark against his character was how conceited he was. Miranda couldn’t stand people who thought so highly of themselves that they didn’t see their own flaws…because they didn’t believe they possessed any.

“While that may be true, My Lady, I can assure you your company is far preferable to anyone else in this room.”

You blind, self-absorbed fool. Can you not understand that I do not want to be around you?

How much easier it would be if she could simply tell him exactly what she felt, but she held back for the sake of decorum. She was as much at the mercy of society’s demands on her behavior as anyone. It took quite a bit of effort, but she managed to keep her expression pleasant.

“I do appreciate that, My Lord, but really, I don’t believe I would be very engaging company right now. I’m simply too overwhelmed by the evening. If you don’t mind, I think it would be best that I take some air by myself.”

Lord Danwich looked as though he wanted to protest further, but to her relief, he reluctantly nodded.

“Very well, I understand, My Lady,” he told her. “I do not wish for you to feel overwhelmed by my presence, and so I will give you your space as you calm your delicate nerves.”

Pompous fool.

Out loud, she said, “Thank you, My Lord. That’s very kind of you.”

He bowed to her. “I will anticipate a dance with you once you are recovered and returned, My Lady, if such a thing would please you.”

Dancing with him was the very last thing she wanted to do, but she knew she was lucky to have convinced him to even let her go. If she refused him a dance in that moment, he’d likely make a fuss and that was something she really did not wish to deal with.

So, instead, she inclined her head politely to him and replied, “That would be very pleasant, thank you.”

“Then I look forward to that happening very soon,” he said, his implication very clear. He wasn’t going to want to wait for long for them to have their dance.

Curtsying, Miranda turned and hurried away from him before he could say anything more, or worse, change his mind and insist on accompanying her outside. She didn’t stop or look around her until she reached the large glass-paned doors that were open out into the garden.

Wandering down the steps of the large veranda into the garden, Miranda walked along a graveled path at an easy pace, enjoying the moment of solitude. She ventured far enough into the flower bushes, shrubs, and trees, that it became rather dark. She was bathed in moonlight as long as she stayed on the path, but if she stepped off, she would be consumed by shadows.

It was a perfect setting for any bold couple hoping to steal a few moments alone together, and so when she heard the low murmur of voices nearby, she wasn’t entirely surprised. Miranda paused in her steps, her curiosity getting the better of her. She wasn’t one who would expose a couple, but she couldn’t help but wonder who it was willing to risk scandal to be out here alone.

“My Lord, that’s a very shocking proposition.” The woman’s voice was low and flirtatiously scolding. “If someone were to see us–”

“Don’t worry, Darling,” the man replied. “No one will wander this far out. Besides, your virtue is safe with me…unless you wish otherwise.”