The Devil Duke Takes a Bride Page 3

  “Perhaps you’ve just gotten better at it.”

  Benedict lifted a brow.

  “Just a thought, perhaps your sexual prowess is that of such brilliance that you are able to seduce women in your sleep.”

  “What a cross to bear,” Benedict said dryly not finding his cousin amusing in the least.

  “Yes well, I was trying to look at the positive in a very dreary situation. After all, the woman you have to marry nearly killed you thrice!”

  “Ah, yes. Thank you for the reminder. I shall be sure to shout ‘til death do us part quite proudly, knowing it will be quite soon in seeking me out.”

  “Speaking of the devil,” Baldwyn mumbled and sauntered off in the other direction leaving Benedict alone in the room. He looked up and cursed fluently before downing the rest of his drink.

  “Agatha.”

  “Benedict, I have just spoken with Katherine’s parents and they have denied your suit.”

  Odd, how such information could make one feel elated, yet offended all at once. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Agatha lifted an eyebrow and took a seat on the nearest chair. “They find the idea of you marrying their only daughter quite offensive. In fact, they’ve instructed me to find her a suitable replacement considering you’ve already ruined her.”

  Appalled, Benedict could only stare slack-jawed. “But that’s ridiculous! I ruined her, and I should be the one to pay for it! Granted, I wasn’t necessarily awake for the entire act, but I’m pretty sure when a woman has her skirts up past her knees it’s considered improper! What kind of parents are they? To subject their only daughter to such ridicule. And all because they find me offensive? Me? I’m a blasted duke!” Throwing an obvious tempter tantrum, he continued, “What the blazes is so awful about marrying me?” Other than the obvious.

  His reputation for ruining debutantes.

  His favor for strong drink and gambling.

  And the rumor that he often walked around his manor naked in order to offend his valet, which might or might not have been true.

  “That, my dear boy, was my exact question.” Agatha inspected her gloves and shrugged as if she didn’t know all the reasons a family would be less than thrilled to align themselves with him.

  Did that mean the witch was actually siding with her nephew? Impossible!

  “And?” Benedict prompted.

  “It isn’t so much the parents whom object as it is the girl in question. She claims you are the most boring creature to walk the face of the earth. She also finds your inability to smile quite taxing.”

  Benedict’s blood boiled. “For the last time, I know how to smile!”

  “Don’t shout, my dear, I’m sitting right here.” Agatha shuddered. “Either way, I’ve taken care of it for you.”

  Devil’s teeth. Those were words one never wanted to hear from one’s insane aunt. The same aunt that thought it stylish to fasten feathers to her lap dog.

  Agatha smiled. “I’ve merely suggested you pay court to their daughter until the Kringle Ball in two weeks’ time. If, by then, you’ve failed in all aspects of intelligent conversation and of course, managed not one smile, which I do think will be a challenge, then the betrothal is off.”

  Benedict opened his mouth to curse, as well as tell his aunt exactly what he thought about her little deal, but her loud voice cut him off.

  “She was found, on top of you, Benedict, at a society function. Have a care for her reputation and at least see this through. Imagine what your mother would say.”

  With that, Agatha rose to her feet and exited the room. The slamming of the door sounding much like the final nail in his bachelor’s coffin. For, Agatha, manipulative little thing that she was, knew his weakness. The one weakness he had.

  His deceased mother.

  He cursed again and followed Agatha out of the room.

  Chapter Five

  Foxed

  Katherine wanted to cry, but to waste tears on such a horrid man seemed truly ridiculous. Dabbing at her eyes, considering they were going to turn into watering pots in any minute, she took a deep breath and walked back into the ballroom.

  Her father and mother had just spent the past half hour trying to convince her of the smart match with the Banbury. She had argued until he throat was sore, giving every excuse under the sun, violence not included for obvious reasons, that they were ill-suited for one another.

  When, in desperation she finally did mention the accidents that befell the duke every time in her presence, her mother merely asked, “Could you at least try to be less clumsy? Perhaps if you practiced.”

  “I do not think I understand your meaning,” Katherine had said, her voice filled with dread.

  “What your mother is trying to say…” Her father cleared his throat and looked off into the distance. “Perhaps if you tried to be more feminine. You know, learned how to properly walk instead of stomping all over the place. Decided not to speak your mind. You know what I’m saying.” He cleared his throat again. “Dumb yourself down so that other fellows don’t feel so intimidated, then you would make a good match. The Devil Duke would have to marry you then. He’d have nothing to object to.”

  “It is I who object to him!” Katherine said through clenched teeth.

  “Of course, my dear.” Her mother patted her hand. “So what shall we tell him?”

  In the end, they had come up with a compromise, if he could win their daughter before the Kringle’s ball, they would marry. If not, well, if not then Katherine would still be in a pickle, because by all accounts she was still ruined.

  Unless, the Duke of Banbury denied all accusations. But even if he did, people would still stare and wonder what did go on that night.

  Her parents left her to make herself presentable, which was quite difficult considering she had a blasted headache and her ankle hurt. In the end, she only managed to pinch her cheeks and walk out into the ballroom.

  And now she was trying not to cry for the third time that night. What she wouldn’t give to punch the man in the face. He didn’t want her, and it seemed nobody would now that she had been ruined by the very man mamas warned their daughters about.

  Who would want a girl that even the Devil chose not to marry?

  She took a shaky breath. Lovely first meeting. Tonight she had every intention of gaining the attention of the Scottish duke. Now, she was limping, betrothed, and ready to yell at any man who dare cross her path.

  “Hullo there! You must be Lady Katherine!” an irritating voice bellowed behind her. Slowly, she turned. A man, a very attractive man, stood not five feet away from her. Cheeky grin in place, he gave a quick bow. ”May I steal you for a dance?”

  She wanted to say no, she really did, it was on the tip of her tongue, not that the man was disagreeable; he was actually quite handsome, if one liked dark red hair and blue eyes. But, the last thing she wanted was to have a meaningless conversation when she was still trying to keep her eyes from tearing up.

  And then, she saw him. Across the room. Lips in a firm line of hatred. Lovely, perhaps he would smite her with his smolder. One could only hope, at least in heaven she wouldn’t be betrothed.

  “I’d love to,” she heard herself say, then glared back at Benedict. His scowl said it all. He actually kicked the floor before disappearing behind another couple.

  Unbelievable.

  Katherine returned her gaze to the man she’d just agreed to dance with. His beauty was actually quite flawless, if one liked dandies or perhaps fops. His waistcoat glowed, causing her eyes to burn just slightly. But that was the result when one was wearing a bright yellow piece of clothing. Perhaps he was color blind? He led her to the middle of the ballroom floor and bowed. She stifled a snort when the couple next to them scowled. Truthfully, it wasn’t necessary to bow that low unless she was royalty.

  He was still facing the floor as the music started, and then with a sweeping gesture he pulled her into his arms.

  Winded, for they were moving vigorously
in the wrong direction of the steps, Katherine managed a tight smile and grunted when they stepped toward one another and he stepped on her toes.

  Goodness, did she have to endure an entire dance with this man?

  Apparently, she did. Perhaps this was her punishment for succumbing to the Devil Duke’s charms. Truthfully, she had no idea what had come over her, and then to have Baldwyn see it all, well it was turning out to be the worst night of her life, and then...

  “May I cut in?” the Duke of Paisley’s deep timbre sent a shudder down her spine. She paused in the dance and looked up. He was making an absolute scene. Mayhap he did have feelings for her? But hadn’t his engagement just been announced?

  So, she was to be the pity dance.

  Lovely.

  Always great to know when she was wanted by the man she loved the most.

  Her dandified partner, whose name she still hadn’t been given, glared, and hopped off. Literally had a hop in his step as he tried to storm the room.

  The music continued to drift, dancers swirled around her and the Scottish duke held out his gloved hand.

  So this was what it felt like to want and not have.

  Reluctantly, she put her hand in his as he gently pulled her into the dance with a smoothness unmatched by any man except his cousin, the very man she did not wish to think of. Paisley had always been the kind one when they were little, and now he was looking upon her the same way Banbury did — pity and not an inch of attraction. Had she really changed so little? The thought darkened her mood, perhaps that was why she was labeled a spinster. She had offers, but none of them were from her heart’s true desire. Suddenly depressed, she grimaced.

  “Are you alright?” he asked smoothly. His face was turned away from hers as if watching. With his red cheeks and blazing eyes, she wasn’t sure if he was foxed or just plain irritated.

  “I’m fine, t-thank you,” she stuttered as she took another sweeping step.

  “Don’t know why it’s my lot in life to have to save every simpering female within the realm. Have you any idea who that man was?”

  “A dandy?” she guessed.

  He did not look amused, instead his eyes took on more fury, drilling a hole through her very person. “That was Sir Elliot himself, the very same man, who just a few weeks ago, was found ravaging the very young Lady Lillian Derby.”

  “Him?” Katherine tried not to look amused, but the idea of that man ravishing anything was inconceivable. “And here I thought it was Banbury who did all the ruining.”

  “Looks can be quite deceiving, and believe me, Banbury isn’t without his faults, but when it comes to women, he has more of a mature taste.” His eyes scanned her from head to toe as if to say, “Pity, you aren’t one of them.” He shrugged and continued to glare in the opposite direction toward the wall.

  “How is the girl?” Katherine asked needing to change the subject before she burst into tears. Is that how all men saw her? First she was a spinster, and now she was hardly a woman! Not even good enough for the Devil Duke to freely ruin and not good enough for Paisley either.

  “Ruined, at the young age of one and six. You would do well to stay away from him.”

  At least he would try to ruin her, whereas everyone else found her disagreeable.

  “Noted.” She gulped and took one last turn just as Benedict’s voice rose above the music.

  Paisley’s eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Benedict. Cheeks ruddy and stance not at all sturdy, the man was completely and utterly foxed.

  What a grand night this had turned out to be.

  Katherine pulled away, thoroughly disgusted with not only her behavior but that of her betrothed, and to be honest, a little heartsick that the very man she had loved since she was a small girl was doing nothing but a small favor. Protecting her as if she was still a girl of nine years.

  Had nobody noticed that she was a woman? Did she need to shout it just as Benedict was shouting now?

  Though he wasn’t using words, merely grunts, and thankfully the music was loud enough to drown out some of his bellow.

  He reached her side and pulled her aggressively across his body, sending a seething glare to Paisley before using her as a crutch to leave the room.

  She said nothing.

  Katherine kept silent, which was a small miracle in and of itself, and helped Benedict to the doors leading outside. It was when she reached the double doors that she stole a glance back at Paisley, whose eyes were trained on Lady Anastasia as if she was his water in a drought. Would any man ever look at her with such hunger? For she did not miss the way his eyes hooded the minute they set upon Lady Anastasia. She felt herself blush as she looked back down at the ground feeling suddenly very much an imposter.

  Heartsick, she swallowed the lump in her throat and helped Banbury down the remaining stairs.

  He slurred for his carriage.

  Katherine rolled her eyes.

  This was her life. Helping the drunken Devil Duke into his carriage while licking her wounds from the other duke who was too pigheaded to do anything worthwhile and thought her nothing but a schoolgirl.

  The fact that they were both foxed and angry just irritated her all the more.

  The carriage seemed to take years. The footman jumped down to help the duke into the carriage.

  “Good riddance,” she uttered under her breath as she turned on her heel.

  “Wait,” Banbury called, his voice strangely quiet.

  Against her better judgment, she stopped in her tracks. With a resigned sigh, she turned back to the carriage and leaned in.

  “I forgot…” Banbury ran a gloved hand through his perfectly dark hair.

  “What did you forget?”

  “My betrothed.”

  With strength of a god, he pulled her into the carriage, causing her to tumble across his lap, and the blasted horses took off.

  If she wasn’t ruined before, she was good and ruined now. Her last thoughts before the Devil Duke brought her to his lap and kissed her.

  Chapter Six

  To Dare the Duke

  One kiss, just one blasted kiss.

  Blind rage had engulfed his entire body when he saw Baldwyn dancing with Katherine. An emotion he had never before experienced slammed into his chest, stealing the breath straight from him. Unable to speak, he had resorted to bellowing in the large ballroom rather than politely walking up to the couple and punching his cousin in the face.

  Truthfully, everyone within the vicinity was lucky he was foxed, for even he was not drunk enough to falsely believe he would be a good shot. Not with how heavy his body had felt.

  It was all Rawlings’ fault, for he had found great amusement in goading Benedict to drink more. And then Renwick had joined in, and some other gentleman who had a twin, and to be honest, it was all quite fuzzy after that.

  Montmouth told him he should sleep it off.

  And he was going to.

  Really he was.

  Until he saw her.

  Heaven above, she was beautiful, and she really didn’t have a right to be anything but disagreeable and ugly. After all, she had nearly killed him and then ruined him, a renowned scoundrel of all people, in front of his aunt!

  Without logic entering into the equation, he grabbed the minx by the arm and brought her outside.

  His only goal to scare her and warn her of dalliances with other men. If he was to placate her family, he needed to have his two weeks without any competition. Not that he was worried he would lose, it just didn’t seem fair.

  But once he opened his mouth, her vanilla scent bombarded him nearly sending him to his knees, and once again he was filled with a violent lust that left him wondering what it would feel like to lick her bare skin.

  Unfortunately, he was too foxed to use any of his usual tactics.

  Meaning, he resorted to trickery.

  Not one of his finer moments.

  She didn’t even fight him.

  Which, according to his drunken ha
ze, told him she desired him as much as he desired her, which according to his calculations, also meant she would be receptive to his kiss.

  She wasn’t.

  Instead, she pushed against his chest and kicked until, with a curse, he pulled away.

  “What the devil was that for?”

  “You pompous, arrogant, son of a—”

  His hand covered her mouth before she made a fool of herself by insulting a peer of the realm, one that ranked higher than her, if only by a tiny hair.

  “Cease from speaking, you insulting wench.” Well, he could have said that better. He blamed the whiskey, and those two wretched twins. What were their names again? Anthony and Ambrose, something? Why the devil did they keep pouring that whiskey? Terrible idea to begin with. He needed a clear mind, not one muddled with alcohol.

  He shook his head.

  Katherine slapped him, offering her assistance no doubt.

  “Well, that was helpful, my thanks.” He scowled and touched his cheek where he carried a painful mark of her assault.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Katherine’s nostrils flared. He didn’t need to be sober to know she was upset, but he did need to be sober to be able to concentrate on her face rather than the swell of her breasts.

  Blast, but she had nice breasts.

  All round and…

  “Benedict!” she screamed his Christian name quite loudly. What the devil did she do that for? Had she no care for the foxed?

  “Stop yelling!” he yelled.

  “Why did you kidnap me like that? I’m completely and utterly ruined now! My parents are probably already announcing our engagement, elated that I left with you! Oh, this is so horrible!” She sat back against the cushions and punched the seat with her hand.

  “Yes well, I obviously hadn’t thought that through very well,” he admitted touching a hand yet again to his throbbing face.

  “You don’t say?” she mocked.

  “Now see here.” His head felt much clearer when he was enraged, funny that. “We will marry and that is that.”