A Most Improper Duchess by Alanna Lucas

Chapter Eight

Niall was enjoying a peaceful afternoon at home with his sister. Thankfully, their mother had gone out to visit friends. A serene calm washed over the bright and cheery drawing room. Since arriving in Town, days such as these had eluded him. He didn’t want to think about duties and responsibilities. He didn’t want to think about Lady Nerissa. And he certainly did not want to think about what he could not have.

Naomi was pre-occupied with her correspondence, while Niall reviewed the latest drawings for the new conservatory. He’d missed these quiet moments with his sister. Of his three sisters, he was closest with Naomi. Her temperament was nothing like his other sisters’, or their mother’s, for that matter.

Suddenly, a distant shriek disrupted the peace.

“What was that?” Naomi’s head snapped up.

Another loud cry echoed from somewhere within the house. Niall rushed to the door just as his mother stormed in.

“How dare you go against my wishes,” Mother yelled as she pointed at Naomi, whose face had turned an unsightly shade of red.

Niall steeled his nerves and prepared for battle. “Mother, why don’t you calm down and—”

“I won’t calm down.” She stomped her foot in a most unladylike fashion. “I am still head of this house and—”

“No, I am head of this family,” he firmly reminded her. “If you will explain what has distressed you, then perhaps we can resolve the issue.”

She placed a dramatic hand to her temple, and with an equally dramatic sigh, bemoaned, “I have just returned from visiting Lady Jerome where I discovered your sister has disgraced this family most tragically.”

He looked to his sister, who had buried her face in her hands and was trembling all over. He looked heavenward and prayed, Give me strength.

“What has she done?” he asked in a calm tone, hoping his mother would follow suit.

“She attended one of those . . . those . . .” She waved her hand frantically as if she could not bring herself to say the word. A moment later, she found the word. Several, in fact. “One of those gatherings the Grace sisters pretend is a salon and suitable for polite society, and after I forbade her from going.”

“Mother,” his sister began, “nothing inappropriate occurred. It was a pleasant afternoon spent in the company of friends.”

“You were supposed to be resting in your room after claiming you had a headache and instead you snuck out, deceiving us all.” Their mother was certainly laying on the guilt. “I know what goes on at that salon. It is all over Town how improper the conversation is, how they play childish games, and encourage impertinent behavior.”

“Mother, I swear no such thing happened,” Naomi cried into her hands, an age-old tactic she used to soften their mother’s temper. Being the youngest, she usually succeeded. “Please don’t be angry, Mama.”

Naomi certainly had perfected her act, Niall would give her that. Their mother was already calming.

“Well, I suppose I can let it go this time, but mark my words, you shall have nothing to do with those sisters ever again.” She glared harshly at Niall, as if he’d had something to do with the situation, then stormed out of the room.

He waited a moment to ensure their mother would not return to deliver a new tirade, which had happened before. Once he was certain she would not reenter, he went to the door and closed it.

“Now that we’re alone, I expect you to tell me exactly why you snuck out.” Niall also wanted to know if any of the things his mother had spewed about the goings-on at the Middleton residence were true, but he would tackle one issue at a time.

Deflated words rushed from her mouth. “Mother never lets me do anything I want to do. I’m always told who to converse with, what parties to attend. I . . . I just wanted to do something I wanted.” Niall completely understood that reason. He’d felt it his whole life, and even more so as of late.

“I understand.”

“You do?” Shock laced the two words.

“Yes. Now, would you care to tell me what did happen while you were there?”

He watched her features shift from calm to panic in the blink of an eye. “Nothing,” she swallowed hard. He knew she was withholding the truth.

“Naomi?” He drew her name out with a firmness that made her cringe. “I will discover the truth sooner or later, and then—”

“Don’t be angry with Alexandra or her sisters. They’re just trying to help,” she blurted out.

Too many questions raced through his mind. “Why . . . what . . . just trying to help?”

“Part of the salon is just as I told Mother, but . . .” She took in several deep breaths before continuing. “But after some of the ladies leave, a few stay behind to discuss things. I didn’t stay. I promise. I came straight back home. But . . . Miss Ashton let it slip at Lord Grimsby’s ball.”

“What sort of things?” He had a suspicion he was not going to like the answer.

In a meek voice she answered, “Things that mothers don’t talk to us about.” She lowered her voice even further. “When we marry.”

Alexandra’s questions.

Bloody hell, that was what she’d been doing? Gathering information to share with others? As if it weren’t alarming enough that she’d asked or thought those things in the first place.

“Please say you’re not angry,” his sister pleaded.

Oh, he was beyond angry! At every turn, Alexandra was disrupting his senses and baiting the gossips.

“You will not go against Mother’s wishes on this.”

He needed to have a word, several in fact, with Alexandra.

So much for a pleasant day, he thought as he stormed from the house. He was going to pay a visit to Alexandra and put an end to her inappropriate salons before her or her sisters’ reputations suffered.

He barely waited to be announced before he stormed into the parlor at Lady Middleton’s house, disrupting Alexandra and Theodora who appeared to be deep in conversation.

“Theodora, could you please give His Grace and me a moment to speak?” Alexandra’s voice was calm, without a hint of guilt.

Her sister eyed him with curiosity but didn’t say a word as she departed the room, leaving the door open. If she was anything like Naomi, she would be listening just outside in the hallway.

Then, much to his surprise, Alexandra went to the door and closed it before turning around. Leaning against the door, she said, “I suspect this visit has something to do with your sister.”

“My mother discovered her subterfuge. We were able to calm her down, but Naomi will certainly pay the price for her actions.”

“Her actions?” Alexandra’s voice raged, matching his rising temper. “What is so wrong about a gathering with friends and—”

The words stormed past his lips. “What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing at your salon?”

“Talking. And it is none of your business.”

“None of my . . . do you have any idea what the gossips are starting to say? What the gossips could say next? This affects my family, too.”

“Men have their clubs. Why, then, can women not have a place of their own?” Alexandra argued. “Nothing unseemly has occurred and—”

“You do have a place. You have tea parties, shopping expeditions, jaunts in the park, and strolls.” Niall’s voice rumbled with anger. “What you’re doing is vastly different to what’s acceptable.”

“Perhaps I don’t want what’s acceptable.” She marched toward him, waving her hand as if declaring battle. “Perhaps I want to live by my own rules. Perhaps I want more than just tepid kisses. Perhaps I want passion and—”

Niall’s rage and desire were at a tipping point. Without thought, he reached out and pulled her into his embrace. He could feel her heart pounding wildly against his chest, her breath coming in short spurts. Her lips were so close and yet so far away. He wanted to kiss her, wanted her to kiss him.

Her eyes were wide with shock yet hooded with desire. He fought to maintain control, to not give into the passion simmering between them. Time slowly ticked by in painful measure.

What was he doing?

He was holding the woman he had wanted for far too long against his chest. The warm, inviting scent of vanilla infiltrated his soul, demanding he take pleasure in her lips. He had to fight the urge to do what he wanted. He was promised to another.

“I . . . I think it best I go.” His words brushed across her cheek.

“Yes, you should,” she whispered but did not move.

Seconds passed as he fought between duty and desire, and in the end, duty won out. It always did. He detested that it did.

He inhaled deeply, taking in her scent one last time before stepping away. All words escaped him. She seemed to fight the same demons as he. Without further thought, he turned on his heel and left, never looking back. If he did, he would claim her as his own.

He stormed down the street, not in anger but in utter frustration. Instead of returning directly home, he went for a long walk, hoping that it would ease the tension that was wound so tight within that it threatened to snap at any moment.

He walked to the park, pacing the lengths of the various paths. What was he going to do about Alexandra? About his feelings for her?

Regret sank into his empty gut.

There was nothing he could do. But the question remained, how was he going to get her out of his mind? The only solution that came to him was to create distance. In doing so, it would mean that their friendship would be over. He didn’t want to think about never seeing her again, never talking to her, never sharing his thoughts and ideas.

Perhaps he didn’t need to end the friendship so abruptly. Perhaps distance alone would stamp down on his feelings. He would only see her when she was in Town, and before long, she would be a distant memory.

A couple of hours later he had ended his walk and returned home. He wasn’t feeling any better, but he was expected to accompany his mother and sister to Mrs. Hadfield’s ball. Naomi had informed him yesterday that Lady Wyner had been training her daughter-in-law to take over her position as one of the premier hostesses of the ton. One could say that tonight was Mrs. Hadfield’s true coming out.

Minutes dragged into hours, but eventually, the appointed time to leave finally came. Although the carriage ride was silent, the tension within the dark interior screamed loud and clear.

Don’t create scandal. Don’t associate with the Grace sisters. Don’t disgrace this family.

Would the don’ts ever go away?

Once they’d alighted the conveyance and were walking up the grand staircase, Mother finally spoke. “I expect you to be on your best behavior, Naomi, perhaps even dancing with Lord Newland or Lord Neave this evening.” What was it with his mother’s obsession with gentlemen whose names began with the letter N? Was that the only requirement for a suitable match in Mother’s world? She then turned her attention to him. “And I expect you to dance with Lady Nerissa. The ton needs to see what a splendid pair the two of you will make. And I will not tolerate any gossip tonight about either of you.”

Her threat was empty. What would she do if gossip landed on her doorstep? Yell and scream? She’d already done that. The worst that would happen was a stern lecture punctuated by wails followed by another lecture about how displeased she was. They’d endured that time and again. Still, both he and his sister were of the same mind, that it was best to remain silent when she issued demands. They both nodded their heads then proceeded toward the grand ballroom.

Once inside, he saw Lady Nerissa conversing with Theodora. He wondered if Alexandra was dancing or . . . Stop thinking about her. He sucked in his breath, and instead of taking his usual spot near a column or against the wall, he went to Lady Nerissa.

Best to get his mother’s request over and done with, otherwise he would never hear the end of it.

“Good evening, Lady Nerissa, Miss Theodora. I hope you are both well this evening.” Perhaps it was his imagination, but a streak of guilt passed across Miss Theodora features. He knew her well enough to realize she was up to something. He would have to keep an eye on her. Now on to his first task. “Would you do me the honor of the next dance, Lady Nerissa?”

She took his offered arm, and he led her to where all the couples were waiting for the dance to begin. Tension coursed through his body, settling on his shoulders. The weight of his mother’s demands, the impending announcement of his engagement, and the constant feeling that he was withering were tearing at his insides.

“It is a pleasant evening, is it not?” she questioned.

Her query brought him out of his dire musings. “Very pleasant, indeed.” He had no clue what discuss with her. He knew her but really only in theory. He knew she was the daughter of a duke, that she was eighteen, and this was her first Season. But he had no idea what her likes and interests were, if she preferred Town or the quiet solitude of the country, or anything else. Her gaze pierced through his rambling thoughts, forcing him to focus on the present. “Are you enjoying the Season?”

“Oh, very much so.” Excitement rushed past her smiling lips. “There are ever so many entertainments and diversions, and the company has been most pleasant.” As they moved through the dance, she continued to praise everything about being in Town, but when Niall asked her if she enjoyed being in the country, her smile faded into a deep frown. “I do not enjoy the country. Not at all.” Her statement was firm, final.

“And do you enjoy reading?”

“I simply adore poetry. Do you prefer Byron, Blake, or Shakespeare?”

“Truth be told, I do not care for poetry.” His interests lay in more practical tomes.

Her features sagged and the spot between her brows crinkled as if she didn’t quite understand his dislike for verse.

Perhaps if he could discover one thing they had in common, then marriage would not be so terrible. He thought about Naomi’s interests and settled on the one they had shared. Most ladies of the ton could sketch or paint. “Do you enjoy drawing?”

She crinkled her nose in disgust. This was hopeless.

Silence enveloped them.

He’d never had any issues talking with Alexandra. The conversation always seemed to flow most naturally regardless of topics. She was without a doubt the most intelligent woman he knew. Even when she didn’t understand a subject, she would ask questions, delve deeper. She seemed to have an insatiable desire for knowledge and truth. It was one of the things he found most attractive about her.

He and Lady Nerissa moved through the dance, each lost in their own thoughts. They were just too different. Despite what their families wanted, it was clear that he and she would not suit. He felt trapped and wondered if she felt the same. By the time the dance ended, both their moods had soured.

After returning Lady Nerissa to her mother, Niall took his usual place against the wall. He watched joyful couples dancing, ladies waving their fans as if being coy, and young gents trying to garner the attention of the fairer sex. And yet he still hadn’t seen the one person he’d hoped to. He should be concentrating on keeping his distance from her, but for the life of him, he could not. He wanted to know if she was all right, enjoying the evening, and just . . . as miserable as he was.

Where was Alexandra? He’d seen both her sisters and Lady Middleton. Was she ill? Did she stay at home because of what had happened earlier in the day?

From across the room, he noticed his sister conversing with Theodora. Something seemed odd about their exchange, but he couldn’t quite tell what. He continued to watch them for a few moments, and then Evelina appeared at Theodora’s side, whispered something to her sister before they all scurried off in different directions.

He followed his sister. “Where are you sneaking off to?” he said once he was near enough.

Naomi whipped around, her breath coming in short spurts. “Niall, you startled me!”

He crossed his arms and surveyed her. “Would you care to tell me what you’re up to?”

“Up to?” she swallowed hard. “Nothing.” She looked this way and that, avoiding his eyes. Several seconds passed until she finally confessed. “Before Alexandra left, she made arrangements for me to have a moment with Mr. Norley.”

His mind tried to wrap itself around what she’d said. There were two things wrong with her confession. One problem at a time. “What’s this about Norley?”

“He is such a kind gentleman and I wanted to know him better, but since Mother doesn’t approve, we can’t even dance together without her scowling and worse. So, Alexandra arranged for us to meet in the music room and listen to Mrs. Hadfield sing. Mother doesn’t care for such entertainments, so it is the only place—”

His sister’s ramblings were causing his hair to stand on end. “I suppose I cannot object, just as long as you don’t do anything worthy of gossip.” He did like the gentleman, and although their mother would most arguably object to the match, he would not. His sole purpose for enduring this Season was to help Naomi find happiness.

She held up her hand. “I promise.”

One problem solved, now on to the next.

“And would you care to explain where Alexandra went?”

Guilt flashed across her features. He knew he wouldn’t like the answer, but he’d made a promise to watch over her, and he suspected she was getting into some sort of mischief. Hadn’t he just been thinking about Alexandra’s insatiable desire for the truth? And he knew what had been on her mind lately.

He continued to stare at his sister, waiting for her to reveal what she knew. As per usual, his patience won, and a moment later, she acquiesced. “She went to a masque. That’s all I know.”

“Why would she go to a masque when her sisters are here and—” Dammit. She wouldn’t go to that masque, would she? “Do not, and I repeat do not do anything to set the gossips’ tongues wagging. When Mother asks where I am, tell her I went to my club, nothing else.”

Naomi nodded her head, her eyes wide with anxiety.

Without wasting another moment, Niall rushed from the ball. He only hoped he wasn’t too late to save Alexandra’s reputation.

*

Alexandra was stillconfused after this afternoon’s visit with Niall. Never in her life had she wanted Niall to kiss her more than at that moment. He was her childhood friend, and he was forbidden; soon he would belong to another. Perhaps that was why this evening was so important. She needed to finally discover the answers to her questions. Then perhaps she could find her own happiness.

She had arrived at Mrs. Hadfield’s ball only to quickly claim a headache and beg to leave. She knew Lady Archibald, Aunt Imogene’s friend who had come with them this evening, would gladly see her home. On the journey to the event, the lady had stated she was feeling under the weather and might not stay long. It was the excuse Alexandra had been hoping for.

After returning to her aunt’s townhouse, she quickly changed again into her brother’s old clothes—this time with a mask—checked her image in the mirror, and snuck out of the house.

Excitement coursed through her veins as she got into a hack. Thankfully, Claudine de Beauregard’s abode, provided for her by an unnamed duke, wasn’t far, and her flight went unseen. Alexandra had decided that she would spend less than an hour there, take in all she could, then return home, with no one the wiser.

Upon entering the opulent space, she noticed dozens of scantily clad women strolling around, enticing men. Seductive laughter flowed through the air, creating an atmosphere of indecency. She kept to the edge of the room, as she had at the gaming hell, but she hadn’t made it far when all of a sudden, the room went still, and all sounds faded as several half-naked men marched into the room, instructing guests to move nearer toward the wall, creating a path and then standing sentinel.

“Gentlemen and gentlemen,” one of the men began, then with dramatic fanfare announced, “the moment has come for you to view your hostess, Mademoiselle Claudine de Beauregard.”

View your hostess?That was an odd choice of words, Alexandra thought to herself.

A hushed silence rippled across the group of attendees as four large men, their steps in precise time, slowly entered the room carrying what seemed to be a large silver platter hoisted upon their shoulders. Alexandra struggled to see what was happening. She backed up to the wall, and keeping one hand on it to steady herself, raised herself up high on tiptoe, hoping to catch a glimpse of what the people around her were gawking at.

Move your head!her inner voice shouted at the rather tall man in front of her. This was hopeless.

She moved farther along the wall, keeping to the shadows, until an opening in the crowd revealed itself. Once again, she raised herself up, straining to see what was on the silver—

She’s naked! Mademoiselle Claudine de Beauregard is naked! She’s naked and being carried in on a silver platter.

The words repeated over and over in her mind as her entire body felt as if it had gone up in flames.

A dozen beautiful women swayed into the room wearing thin drapes of the sheerest material she had ever seen. Their covering did not leave anything to the imagination. A roar of cheers and whistles reverberated around the room.

What sort of place was this?

She lowered herself, the tips of her toes aching from straining for so long. Could this evening get any worse?

A firm hand pulled at her arm, whipping her around, forcing her to come face to face with worse.

“Niall,” she murmured. A sudden thrill shot through her veins before it collided with guilt.

Her body was pressed against his for the briefest of moments before he dragged her through the crowd toward a dark passageway. Even once they’d reached the corridor, he did not stop but traveled farther down it until the sounds of merriment softened to a dull hum. He went into a dark room and shut the door. He moved across the room to open the curtains just a sliver, and she caught the look of pure anger in his eyes. Waiting for the scold that was certain to come, she stood very still.

*

Niall was livid.No, livid was too mild a word.

After he’d stormed out of the Hadfields’ ballroom, he’d gone to his house to pick up a mask then rushed to Mademoiselle Beauregard’s masque. It had been the talk of his club that the seductive courtesan was hosting an illicit soirée. Her events were notorious for excessive indulgences and debauchery—two things Niall had never participated in. Earlier, when his mother had asked what his plans for the evening were, attending the masque had never even entered his thoughts, and yet here he was, walking up the steps to the courtesan’s establishment.

Men had congregated in the main hall and were making quite a commotion. Avoiding drawing attention to himself, he searched for Alexandra. With each breath he took, it seemed as if another dozen men poured into the room. The laughter, cheers, and whistles rose to deafening heights. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the reason for all the noise. Mademoiselle Beauregard had made her entrance.

A quick flash of someone turning away caught his attention. Alexandra. Without further thought, he went to her side. Her men’s attire did not conceal her voluptuous curves. In fact, it seemed to accentuate them. Give me strength. The only good thing was that she’d had the wherewithal to conceal her face, not to mention all the men present were too absorbed in the erotic display. That was to their advantage.

Grabbing her arm, he pulled her through the crowd toward the dark passageway. His only thoughts were to remove her from the immediate crowd and protect her identity. One of the unused side rooms would be as good a place as any to wait for the exit to clear.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growled.

“Exploring and—”

“Damn it, Alexandra. Do you know what could happen?” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I made a promise.”

“Yes, I know,” she huffed. “To Harold.”

“And to your father.” If Lord Grace were alive, what would he have had to tell him? Your daughter thought it a lark to explore an infamous courtesan’s house. The rage within was building, mixing with other emotions he dared not entertain.

“My father?”

He ignored her question. “I cannot believe you thought this a good idea.”

“No one recognized me.”

“But someone could have—someone should have!—and then what?” He tried to control his temper as he sought answers. “What are you even doing here?”

“Discovering the truth,” Alexandra stated in a defiant tone as she raised her chin.

“The truth?”

“Yes, about men.”

Niall was quickly losing his patience. “The truth about men? What kind—”

“I’m sure you have noticed, being one, that men behave quite differently when they are not under the scrutiny of the grande dames. I simply want to understand why that is.”

“They do not—”

“How are we supposed to know what to do, how to please our husbands?”

Heat rose through his body. He cleared his throat, trying not to imagine Alexandra pleasing—. “They will show you,” his voice cracked. He was quickly losing control.

He could not believe he was having this conversation with her. It was improper. No, not just improper, it was inappropriate, unseemly, ungentlemanly even, and entirely . . . arousing.

“Oh, and I suppose the reason that Lord Botte, Lord Shepard, Mr. Bacon, and Mr. Nesbitt are present is not because their wives are unable to satisfy them, but for an entirely different and altogether innocent reason.” The thick sarcasm in her voice would have been amusing if not for the topic they were discussing. She continued her rant. “It seems to me that wooing is what matters most to men. Once said gentleman wins the hand—or rather, the dowry—of the fair maiden, then he is free to find comfort elsewhere.”

“Any of these so-called gentlemen could have their way with you and you would never even see it coming.”

*

And that wasprecisely the problem—Alexandra didn’t understand. She was on a quest for knowledge and there was no turning back, but she wasn’t certain, based on the scowl Niall wore, that he would enlighten her. However, it was worth asking—she had little left to lose. “But that’s just it—”

“What is just it?” Niall slashed through her question with gritted teeth.

“What does that mean exactly?”

“What does what—”

It was her turn to interrupt him. With a stomp of her foot, she demanded, “Have their way with me. What does it mean when—”

One moment she was demanding an answer to her question, and the next, she was being pushed against the closed door by firm, masculine flesh and kissed by the only man she’d ever truly desired.

She desired Niall.That realization slapped her hard across the face.

Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself closer to him, wanting to feel every inch of his body. She’d been so determined to think of him as no more than a friend, and yet here she was, kissing him.

It was the most glorious moment of her life and yet she knew it couldn’t last.

Niall must have realized the same. He eased back from her, his forehead pressed gently against hers. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He brushed a soft kiss to her temple.

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Alexandra kissed the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.

“I’m promised to Lady Nerissa.” He kissed her cheek.

“I know.” Alexandra sighed as she kissed his chin.

“Alexandra.” Her name whispered past his lips in a most seductive tone that sent tingles through her body. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”

Alexandra pulled back and saw heart-rending tenderness in his deep green eyes. “You have?”

“Hell and damnation, you’re all I think about, all I have ever thought about. But I can’t . . .” He sucked in a deep, shuddered breath, then lowered his head and took her lips in a sweet, tender kiss. The kind of kiss Alexandra suspected meant goodbye.

“Let me take you home.”

Somehow he managed to get her out of the house and to Aunt Imogene’s without anyone detecting them. And somehow, she held in her tears, hiding the despair even from her sisters as she entered their private parlor.

“What did you discover?” Theodora asked with excited anticipation. “I thought you would be gone longer.”

She couldn’t very well be honest with them, tell them that not only had Niall discovered her subterfuge, but he’d also kissed her. Not only kissed her, but stirred the desire that she’d always hoped for though she knew they could never be. She rubbed the spot on her chest just above where her heart was breaking.

“It was not quite what I was expecting.” That was the absolute truth. She had not anticipated seeing Mademoiselle Beauregard carried in on a platter, or pure lust that flowed like water, and she most certainly had not expected to be kissed by Niall. “I don’t think we’re going to get the answers we desire from a place like that.” It was a venue where men went to avoid their wives, perhaps even forget about them for a while. It was an establishment for men to indulge in their desires and justify their actions.

Evelina and Theodora glanced at one another and then looked at Alexandra. She could not tolerate any more questions this evening.

“I’m going to bed. We can talk in the morning.” And with that, she retreated to her room.

She was going to hell, there was no doubt in her mind about it. She’d kissed Niall, but he was promised to another, the announcement expected any day. She’d kissed him!

She plopped into bed and pulled the covers up over her head, forcing the outside world away. She wanted time to reflect, to remember the feel of his hand on the small of her back, the touch of his cheek against hers. What was she going to do? Could she go to her aunt? Aunt Imogene might get upset with Alexandra’s subterfuge. Would she blame Evelina and Theodora too? Perhaps she would be able to discuss her conundrum—not all the details, of course—with the ladies. She could pose what-if questions and see what advice they had to offer.

And then there was his odd comment about making a promise to her father. When did that happen, and what had been promised?

There were so many confusing thoughts swirling through her mind and heart that she could not focus on a single one. What was she to do?