The Scoundrel Duke of her Heart by Violet Hamers

Chapter Three

Such disharmonious poetry could only come from one person but she was pleased. She turned around and gave him a polite smile.

“Sir Phineas.”

Sir Phineas grinned. He was the dandiest of the ton’s dandies, and the son of a second son of a Duke whose service to the crown had earned him a baronetcy that he’d passed on to Phineas. Although he spent most of his time at ton gatherings serenading ladies with bad poetry, he was anything but a rake.

“If it isn’t the resplendent Lady Jennifer Robshaw.” He bowed elegantly, giving her a smile that reminded her of why some regarded him as the ton’s Adonis.

“Did you just form that verse, sir? And is it about what I think it is?” she asked, feeling her shoulders relax. Something about his demeanor was comforting.

His eyes fell on her red hair that was piled atop her head in a neat coiffure. “It is even more brazen in the candlelight, my lady.”

Jenny rolled her eyes and bit back a laugh, feeling inclined to remain in his company all evening to avoid an encounter with Nicholas. He was diverting and it was just what she needed. Contrary to society’s opinion of him that he was compensating for his lack of wits with his appearance, Jenny had always believed there was more to him than what he revealed to the world. It was unfortunate that most ladies only found him tolerable because of his wealth and looks.

“I must admit my surprise. My hair has been called many things but it has never been the subject of poetry.”

“Then society has done you a great disservice. I am delighted to be the first to compose a verse for it.” He beamed. “May I have this dance?”

The waltz was just starting and Jenny did not hesitate in placing her hand on his proffered arm. They fell into step alongside Ernest and Daphne. Of all the gentlemen she’d come across since her debut, Sir Phineas was the only one she could deem genuine. He was honest not only with people but with himself which was not a common trait to find. And for that reason alone, she admired and respected him.

“A smile so serene that even the angels cannot compare,” he said, smiling.

Jenny laughed. “Serene? My father once said I smile like I have a secret.”

“Do you have a secret?”

Before she could respond to that, her eyes traveled to the ballroom entrance and landed on Nicholas. His blue gaze was on her, a question she couldn’t understand in them.

She quickly looked away, giving Sir Phineas all of her attention. “I do. I have what most would consider an obsession with rocks.”

His brows rose. “Geology?”

“Yes. I have a growing collection both here in London and in Norfolk where I grew up,” Jenny replied.

“I think geology and history have a thing or two in common," he grinned.

“They do. They tell us about our origins. You like history?” she asked, genuinely interested in his answer.

“Yes, and literature. I believe these two subjects call directly to my heart.”

She knew he wouldn’t judge her about her interest and she felt comfortable talking to him.

“May I invite you for a ride tomorrow afternoon?” he asked with a smile.“I feel we have much to learn from each other.”

She did not hesitate to reply. “I would love to.”

He twirled her and again, her traitorous eyes sought Nicholas. He was standing on one side of the room in deep conversation with a gentleman in a military uniform.

“Interesting hosts we have this evening,” Sir Phineas remarked, his gaze following hers. “I hear the dowager duchess has already chosen a wife for the duke.”

“Oh?” Jenny feigned ignorance. “Do you know her?”

“Sadly, I do not and I feel sorry for the poor girl.”

Jenny swallowed. She absolutely did not want to marry Nicholas and from what she had been able to understand from the dowager and Nicholas’s conversation, a contract had already been drawn up and her father appeared to be in agreement with it.

“Are you quite all right?” he asked, noticing her changed demeanor.

“I am fine, Sir Phineas.”

“Good then. A frown upon your face causes my heart great grief."

That curved her lips into a smile. “I am no longer frowning.”

They talked more about her peculiar interest before the dance came to an end, much to their disappointment.

* * *

After what seemed like an endless conversation, Nicholas emerged from the library and proceeded to the ballroom to find Jenny. When he arrived, he found her waltzing in the arms of the ridiculous Sir Phineas. Why she would choose to dance with him was beyond him.

As though she could sense his presence, she turned and their eyes met. Her demeanor immediately changed and she turned away to continue talking to her dance partner. To say that she was displeased with him would be an understatement.

“Your Grace.” General Wrotham approached him. “It is good to have you back on English soil.”

“I am happy to be back,” he replied, wondering how much of that statement was false.

He looked in Jenny’s direction. She was laughing at something Sir Phineas had said and for some inexplicable reason, he did not like it.

“Will you be taking your place at the House of Lords, Your Grace?” General Wrotham asked.

Would people stop asking me that damned question?

He gave the general a stiff smile and said, “Indeed.”

“Yes, yes. Very good, Your Grace. We look forward to your addition to the affairs of the country.”

This was not what Nicholas wanted to talk about. All he wanted to do that evening was to find Jenny and speak to her. Explain the reason he didn't want to marry her. His eyes found her again but he quickly averted them as thoughts he never thought he would ever have about her began to swirl in his mind. Clearing his throat, he swallowed and tried to concentrate on what General Wrotham was saying which involved the Corn Laws. Then his grandmother joined them.

“Grandson, never say you prefer a conversation with General Wrotham over a dance with a pretty debutante,” she said, regarding the general with raised brows.

“General Wrotham has very interesting things to say,” he returned.

“I know he does.” She turned to the general. “The duke needs to dance.”

Nicholas clenched his jaw, annoyed by his grandmother’s behavior.

“I never held him, Your Grace,” Wrotham said.

Before the woman could say anything more, Nicholas removed himself from their presence, and after looking around and not finding Jenny, he left the ballroom entirely. He headed to his father’s study, now his, to have a moment to himself. On entry, however, he found Ernest standing in front of a cabinet, pouring himself some brandy.

“Ah, there you are, Nicky!” He gave him a broad smile and raised his glass. “Care to join me?”

Nicholas strode across the room and took the glass in Ernest’s hand, gulping down half the contents. “Have you been in here all evening?” he asked.

Ernest shook his head. “I was dancing in the ballroom moments ago.”

“I was in the ballroom moments ago. Why did I not see you there?”

His cousin shrugged, serving himself another drink. “Perhaps you were too occupied scowling in the direction of a certain female with flaming hair.”

Nicholas stiffened. Had his attention been that obvious? Then something else struck him. “Did you say you were dancing?”

Ernest’s smile gave Nicholas the impression that he’d enjoyed the endeavor. A very surprising occurrence because Ernest disliked dancing, unless he was going to gain something from it.

“You?” Nicholas regarded him suspiciously.

“Yes, me.”

“Were dancing. Why?”

“Is that not one of the purposes of the evening? Circle the dance floor with a lovely girl in your arms? Although, I did not see you do that this evening. Did no one catch your fancy?”

Nicholas downed the remainder of his drink. “The old crone has a different agenda tonight. She wants me in the parson’s trap.”

His statement ensured he had his cousin’s full attention now. “Has she already chosen you a bride?”

“A contract is ready, as a matter of fact.” He moved to the desk and lowered his large frame into a chair.

“So the rumors are true.” Ernest chuckled.

“What rumors?”

“Well, word has been circulating about town of your impending nuptials to a mystery girl. And this was even before your return.”

Just what sort of woman was his grandmother? Her machinations were larger than life.

“I support her,” Ernest continued. “The next generation needs to be secured.”

Nicholas hissed. “Not you, too, man!”

“I am trying to give you some good advice, cousin.” He chuckled again.

“Advice, hmm?” Nicholas stroked his chin thoughtfully. “You danced this evening and now you are giving me advice. Are you fancying matrimony? Because if you are, I would be more than happy to leave the siring of the next generation to you.”

“God, no!” Ernest looked almost horrified. “I am a lot of things but I am not addle-brained.” He opened his arms. “There are so many wonders and pleasures in this world that I’m yet to explore.”

“This could have been you, you know.” For a long time now, Nicholas had wondered what his life would have been like if he were not the heir to the dukedom of Seaton. Perhaps his cousin would have made a better duke…a better man…

“It would have if my father had been born nine minutes earlier,” Ernest said, “but I am happy he hadn’t been. There was a time when I thought I wanted your title. I know better now.”

Their fathers had been twins, born nine minutes apart, and a rivalry had existed between the brothers. When Nicholas and Ernest were children, that same rivalry had been introduced to them by Ernest’s mother. Her selfishness and jealousy had made her turn her son against Nicholas. But Ernest had broken free and they were more like brothers now than cousins.

“It is incredible what difference a small number makes,” Nicholas said.

“I thank God every day I am not the heir. I cannot fathom marriage.”

“Oh, that would be the least of your concerns if you were duke.” He slid his snifter across the desk and motioned for Earnest to pour him more brandy. He could feel that deep sadness rising to the surface. He cleared his throat and thought of what to say to change the subject.

“Good Lord, Nicholas! Who has the crone chosen for you?” His cousin interpreted his look well.

Nicholas did not respond. He took the refilled snifter and raised it to his lips, the image of Jenny’s smile flashing in his mind.

“Who is the unlucky lady?” Ernest asked again. Nicholas winced. If this marriage happened, Jenny truly would be unlucky. “Surely it is not one of the Morthington triplets? They are the reason I danced in the ballroom with Miss Bexley. I needed to get away from them.”

“I knew there was a reason you danced. In answer to your question, it is not one of the triplets, although I wish it was.”

“Lord!” Ernest sat down. “Is her choice that bad?”

Nicholas nodded. “She wants me to marry Jenny.”

Ernest blinked. “Jenny? Our Jenny?”

He felt his frown deepen. “Our?”

“Yes,” Ernest replied. “Jenny and I have grown quite close while you were away.”

“Why don’t you marry her, then?” He winced inwardly at the bitterness in his voice. He did not want to marry Jenny, yet the fleeting thought of Ernest marrying her made bile rise in his throat.

“Jenny is a lovely lady but I cannot marry her. I cannot marry anyone.” He tilted his head and asked Nicholas, “Why does the prospect of marrying her torment you so?”

Now, Nicholas couldn’t answer that question with complete honesty. He had known this girl his entire life, played with her every day, despite the six years difference in their age, in Norfolk. Now suddenly, he was expected to marry her and she’d grown into such a…

He raked his finger through his sandy hair. She had grown to become a very provocative, very tempting woman. “I cannot,” he said. “She is my friend.”

Ernest looked thoughtful for a moment. “This is more reason why you should marry her. You have known each other all your lives. You can still be friends in marriage.”

“I doubt she regards me as her friend now. Not after what she has overheard of my conversation with grandmother this evening in the library.”

Ernest let out a low whistle. “How come?”

“She was in there, likely running away from society, and hid when she heard our approach. She heard everything that was said, including my rejection.”

Ernest grimaced. “I feel sorry for you, man. My advice is, apologize to her and ask for her hand. Grandmother would never let you get out of this.”

“But I don’t want to marry her,” he argued.

“Oh, but you do.” Ernest’s eyes gleamed as though he knew something Nicholas didn’t. “You’re a man, Nicky. You do want to marry her. Besides, a marriage of convenience never killed anyone and you would be doing her father a great favor. He appears to be neck-deep in debt and suitors are avoiding Jenny for that particular reason.”

Nicholas began to look at the situation from a different perspective. He could be helping Jenny by marrying. He would be securing her future. Within moments, Nicholas found his mind changed and he rose to his feet.

“Ernest, you have earned yourself a—”

The study door swung open, cutting him off, and his grandmother’s angry face appeared.