The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride (10 page)

“I think champagne is in order,” Hayden said, leading her through swaths of guests she did not recognize with their masks and costumes in place.

The air was thick with the scent of too much perfume and a haze of cigar smoke. Normally, the conflicting odors wouldn’t bother her, but right now the closeness of the crowds made her a little light-headed. She held tight to Hayden’s arm as though his presence was the only thing keeping her on her feet and moving forward when she wanted nothing more than to retreat.

Large crystal chandeliers hung high above them; hundreds of candles danced above their heads like stars in the night. The ambient glow aided in keeping the guests nameless. There was a string quartet playing Mendelssohn in the background, the cello in the group melodic but compelling the violins’ fast pace. The atmosphere was intoxicating.

Everywhere she turned there was a scene of debauchery unfolding. While many guests in the grand marble room chatted and giggled behind their fast-fluttering fans, others could be seen openly kissing. Her breath caught in her throat and she pulled Hayden to a sudden stop, mesmerized. Some attendees were doing much more than groping … they were fornicating where others watched and cajoled.

“My darling Jez,” Hayden whispered in her ear, “why have you never invited me out to one of these events before now?” There was a measure of mockery to his question and something else she couldn’t identify in his tone.

She stood close enough to him that they looked as though they were having an intimate conversation. “I knew my husband to be depraved. But I did not think a Malvern house party to be quite so…”

“Delicious.” His finger traced an illicit path over the curve of her plumped-up breasts.

Her eyes snapped to his with the action. He was playing a part, she told herself.

“What shall we do first?” he asked, his finger still intimately pressed against her.

“Indulge,” she said, a little breathless. With a dip of her head, she stepped away from his teasing touch and drank the contents in her champagne glass in one swallow.

A footman came by, allowing them to exchange their glasses for fresh ones.

“Let’s see who we recognize,” she suggested as she tugged him through the swarm of guests. “The scandals happening before our very eyes are too delectable to not investigate further.”

She did have an ulterior motive for attending this particular party, and that was to find someone she knew without a doubt would be attending.

“A solid plan,” Hayden responded.

Difficult as it was to make out appearances, she did eventually locate some very interesting guests. But not the person she was looking for. It didn’t take long for her to start enjoying herself almost as though this were like old times.

“Isn’t that…” She pointed with the tip of her fan in the direction of the person she referred to as she turned her face toward the curve of Hayden’s neck.

It was almost as though she were whispering something naughty in his ear. Perhaps that explained why the heat of his breath fanning over her ear made her shiver in anticipation as she waited for his response.

“Hmm, did you mean to point out that Mrs. Benson is with a man far younger than I remember her husband being?”

“You’re a devil to say so aloud. But, yes, that’s precisely what I mean. Who do you suppose it is?”

Hayden’s hand hadn’t moved from beneath the train of Jessica’s gown. If anyone recognized them, they might think Hayden was displaying some sort of possessiveness over his friend. While Hayden didn’t normally take such liberties with her in a public setting, the closeness didn’t disagree with her. But the whisper of his fingers across her breasts …

What in the world was wrong with her to be having thoughts like this about Hayden? Perhaps the champagne had gone straight to her head and she was overanalyzing their intimacy.

“I’d put my money on a paramour, the one of questionable lineage that the Mayfair Chronicler wrote of. I believe he’s well-spoken—a man of education but without a title,” she said.

“So, she’s found a young buck to fill her stables when it’s well known her husband hasn’t been able to play the stud since his duel in ’41?” Hayden mused.

“Yes, but where do you suppose she found him?”

“Places like this, darling.” Hayden took her empty flute and retrieved another.

She walked around the room. One of Hayden’s hands stayed at her back. Looking around her, she understood perfectly well why he was doing it; it let the other men know that she wasn’t to be approached.

“Who else do we know?”

“Lord Penworth is with his mistress.” Hayden motioned in the direction of the pair with his champagne flute before taking another sip. He turned her so she could see the man they were talking about without it being obvious that they were watching.

She glanced briefly at them before focusing her attention back on her friend. “That’s old news. When is he not with her?”

“True enough.”

“Do you think anyone recognizes us?” she asked, suddenly worried they were as easy to pick out as the guests they’d figured out.

“To some, maybe, but since we’re not regulars at these types of evening affairs we wouldn’t be expected. Would it bother you if we were discovered?”

“I prefer to be the one holding all the cards.”

“When will you tell me who it is you’re searching for?”

It might ruin their evening if she revealed that.

She smiled at him. “I didn’t think I’d be able to keep you in the dark for very long.”

“That you wanted to keep me in the dark at all…”

“I don’t, but I thought we were enjoying ourselves. What gave me away?”

“You can’t hide anything from me, darling.” He leaned in closer, his lips nearly kissing the shell of her ear as he said, “But I do think you’ll be thrilled to note that your old
friend
the Countess of Montant currently has a man beneath her skirts. I do wonder who the chap brave enough to do that is.”

Jessica spun around, excitement beating in her chest. Hayden’s hand landed on her hip, her shoulders bumped back against his chest, and she stared at Lady Montant. She was a vile woman whose sole goal in life was to make other women of equal standing appear inferior. Jessica had tried showing that she was a better woman than her, but it had been at the expense of Jessica looking gauche in front of her husband’s closest friends. She would never forget the wrath of her husband the night she had insulted the woman. Lady Montant had always had Jessica’s husband’s ear.

The countess didn’t frighten her now, especially considering that this was the first time she’d seen the woman in nearly a year. This put Jessica at a remarkable advantage.

The woman’s skirts bobbed up, revealing her knees, whereupon her paramour took to kissing her calves for all to see.

“Shall we wager on who the kneeling man between her thighs is?”

“We both know it is not her husband,” Hayden said. “And that leaves us with two possibilities: Mr. Thickett, her paramour, or, as rumor might suggest, Lord Winston.”

Jessica flicked open her fan. “My money is on Mr. Thickett. He’s in much finer shape to worship on his knees in tonight’s fashion.”

When Hayden chuckled, the deep timbre of his voice reverberated through her where they were pressed against each other.

“I love it when you’re wicked,” he said.

Was it her imagination or did his hand squeeze her hip a little tighter?

“I think that’s what drew you to me all those years ago. You’re but a moth to the flame, even though you pretend to play by the rule book.”

With a laugh at her friend, she turned enough that she could kiss him on the cheek before she parted from his company to trail around the room to see whom else she could identify. Knowing the
ton’
s most dangerous secrets was what had kept her in an elevated position for many years, and it was what would find her in an equally comfortable position as a widow if she didn’t manage to find another husband, one who doted upon her this time.

It wasn’t long before Hayden caught up to her. His hand snagged hers, bringing her back to his side.

*   *   *

His redheaded minx was leading him on a merry chase this evening. She was one surprise after another from the very moment he’d arrived at her townhouse. Her change of heart and attitude was welcome, and he’d not question his good fortune in having the old Jez on his arm again. It had been far too many weeks since they’d simply enjoyed each other’s company. And tonight was no exception.

“So you’re looking for fodder,” he said, pulling her back to his side. There wasn’t a chance in hell he was letting her out of his sight at a ball like this. Her hip brushed against his with every step they took.

“I need it.”

“For what reason? You’ll not find yourself in the good graces of the
ton
by obtaining everyone’s dirty little secrets.”

“That’s where you are wrong, my friend. I never wanted them to hold me in any regard, good or bad. The only thing I ever wanted from the
ton
was their respect—instead, I was cut from all my husband’s circles after a few months of marriage, and treated with contempt.”

“You don’t like any of the people your husband called friend. And you have plenty of respect where it counts.”

She gave him a pitiful look. “Until you’ve been in my position, you can’t truly understand, Hayden. I will always love and remain loyal to my dearest friends.” She squeezed his hand. “But I cannot live my life freely if I don’t play the highest cards against the
ton.
”

“That’s a dangerous, reckless game to gamble on, too. Don’t walk down this road you’re blindly taking.”

For a minute, he saw the sadness in her expression that he’d seen the night of her miscarriage—it was gone before his hand caressed her arm above the opera-length lace gloves she wore. “My father had hoped my match with Fallon would be a good one.”

Hayden was silent as he searched her expression. “You never talk about your father.”

“He adored me. And no matter what he did, I knew his heart was in the right place.” Her gaze snapped away from Hayden’s to search the room. He swore he saw the beginning of tears, but she held them at bay. “He died a short time after I married.”

Hayden stopped them both at the edge of the dance floor and turned her toward him. He caressed the side of her face when she looked up at him with her sorrowful eyes.

“We can’t discuss this here, Hayden. I can’t…” She shook her head and bit her bottom lip.

He couldn’t agree more. “Another time. But I want the whole story when you are ready.”

She nodded her agreement. “Take another turn around the room with me. Tonight is supposed to be about cheering me up, is it not?”

He handed her a fresh glass of champagne. It was gone before they passed the next footman, and another was in her hand and a smile playing on her lips as they walked around the ballroom.

“So what is tonight about, Jez? Are you intent on getting even with someone from your past?”

“Not quite,” she said, suddenly stopping and pulling him up short.

His gaze went around their vicinity, catching sight of someone they both knew well.

He should have known.

Mr. Warren stood with a cigar in one hand, a glass of champagne in the other, as he conversed with three other gentlemen. Hayden only knew one of them, not that it mattered.

Hayden was partly furious and wholly displeased to have not seen this coming. Now he understood his and Jessica’s purpose for being here.

Pure madness stole his sanity the moment he realized Jez was here to find Mr. Warren in an unredeemable act, not to spend an evening out with Hayden.

He ushered Jez into a darkened alcove where the shadows further concealed their identities, a place where Mr. Warren wouldn’t be able to distinguish their silhouettes from any of the others.

Jez fought him, pushing back with each of his forward steps, but he did not relent. When she looked up at his furious gaze something stilled her.

“Darling,” she said in a placating tone. “It’s not as though I didn’t see him.”

“Then you should have asked me to steal you away before you were found out.” He tipped her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. “What game are you playing, love?”

“Can’t you guess?”

He wasn’t buying into the innocent flutter of her lashes.

“Do you honestly expect to find him indulging in amoral behavior?”

“Isn’t everyone?”

“We aren’t,” he pointed out.

“No, we aren’t.” Her brows furrowed behind her mask as she tried to look around his shoulder with little success.

“Then perhaps we should join the revelry,” he suggested.

When she attempted to escape him, he yanked her back to his side. He was so far from done with her, and she would not leave him standing here to watch her chase after trouble.

“I’ll be damned if another man so much as considers laying hands upon you. You’ll not attempt leaving my side again.”

“Hayd—”

He shushed her with the press of his finger over her lips. “If you want to play a role tonight, then you’ll play it with me.”

She didn’t whisper another word as his fingers slipped over the delectable plumpness of her lips, parting them before trailing lower. He caressed the backs of his knuckles over the décolletage she displayed. She hadn’t reprimanded him the first time; he didn’t think she’d object now. At least he hoped she wouldn’t.

He felt her shiver when she inhaled a deep breath. Her eyes slipped shut for the briefest of moments as she visibly swallowed and surrendered to their stolen moment. No regrets. He knew this was his moment. He couldn’t walk away from her anymore, couldn’t stop the deep desire to have her as his own for another second. It was damn well time he made her aware that she belonged to him.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she said, breathless.

“Give me one reason to stop.” His hand spread out, cupping her fragile neck and nape. “You wanted to play at what the other guests are playing tonight. What’s stopping you from doing so with me, Jez?”

Her head tilted back and the tip of her tongue dashed out to lick at her powdered lips.

There was some type of madness ensnaring him, one that wouldn’t let go until he did what he had always wanted to do to this particular woman. If she wanted to live scandalously, then he’d give her scandal. If she wanted to live on the edge of propriety, he’d throw them both over that line.

There were a million things he could have done in that moment, a hundred things that would preserve their long friendship. He didn’t want to play this safe, for there was nothing safe about Jez. There never had been, and that was part of what drew him to her like that hapless moth to the flame she’d likened him to.

He brushed his thumb over her lips again, liking how soft they were beneath his touch.

“What are you doing?” she asked quietly.

“Just this.”

His head lowered and his lips feathered across hers. It was the briefest fluttering of lips against lips. Their breaths mingled, and he lingered there, not ready to move away—not now that he’d started this.

Jez froze and grew rigid in his hold. He pulled away slowly and stared down at her confused expression. What had she felt? Was she baffled as to why he’d done it? Had she felt anything close to desire for him with that kiss?

“To hell with it,” he muttered.

He kissed her harder the second time, letting their lips meld, letting his tongue sweep out to taste the residue of champagne on her parted lips. She wasn’t pushing him away, nor was she kissing him back. Perhaps he’d shocked her and she was still trying to process exactly what had happened to bring on this kiss.

It was long overdue.

Hayden’s hand slid over the base of her back again, and in small increments he felt her body loosen and mold to the front of his. Her mouth opened to him and suddenly he didn’t care that he was kissing his best friend, nor did he think she minded, either.

He could feel the pounding of her heart where their chests were crushed together. This was how he’d always wanted her: in his arms, desperate to taste something that should be forbidden but needing it all the same.

His free hand shaped to the soft curve of her jaw, working its way higher and threading through the pinned curls at the back of her head where her mask was tied.

She’d been under his skin for so long that her touch was setting him ablaze with need. All the feelings he had for her, buried all these years, were at the forefront. There was nothing to stop him from claiming her as his own now that she was widowed, now that she was in his arms accepting his touch. His kiss.

He wanted her with a ferocity that bordered on madness. He needed her in his life like the very breath that filled his lungs. Now that he’d broken through the thin barrier that had always separated their relationship between friendship and love …

There was no going back.

He released her lips, turned his head, and exhaled in a rush. She didn’t try to move out of his hold while he reined in his need for more than a simple kiss.

Wrong place, wrong time.

Damn it.

“This is not a good idea,” she whispered, her voice husky.

Was she trying to convince herself of that, or him?

He didn’t respond, nor did he release her. The best thing for the both of them would be to resume mingling. But there was no denying that for an infinitesimal moment the most monumental, boldest move he could have ever made had changed everything between them.

And he’d be damned if she expected him to forget it.

“Is it really so bad?” he asked.

She nibbled on her bottom lip as she assessed him with renewed interest. “This can’t happen between us.”

“You felt it, Jess.” He released her suddenly, his arms braced on the wall behind her, framing her delicate figure, giving her a chance to take flight if that was what she so desperately wanted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something more between us.”

She cupped the side of his face as she stared at him. “This can never be.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

She lowered her hand to press her palm against his chest. Could she feel his heart strumming crazily?

“Don’t ask this of me,” she whispered. “I need you to be my friend.”

Didn’t she know that there was no way they could go back from this? He’d always be her friend, but everything had changed the first moment his lips had brushed across hers.

Chapter 8

Lady A—— was seen on the arm of Mr. W—— at the annual M——s’ masked ball. Their association was so much more friendly than previously noted that this writer predicts Mr. W——’s townhouse for his mistresses shall be set up with a new resident before month’s end.
Mayfair Chronicles
, July 1846 What in the world had just happened between her and Hayden?

Better yet, how had it happened at all?

Jessica stared up at Hayden, not sure what to do. Did she leave him here and wander around the masked ball to find another bag of trouble or did she stay right where she was in the arms of the man she trusted above all else?

If she stayed would he expect their kissing to resume? She pressed her fingers to her lips. She could still taste and feel him—and admittedly that wasn’t a bad thing.

Her thoughts were troubling. She wasn’t thinking rationally.

She would not chance ruining one of the most important things in her life. If she lost Hayden … there would be nothing left that mattered. When she met his serious gaze, she realized that nothing would be the same between them again.

As though he was reading her thoughts, he assured her, “You’ll always have my friendship, Jez.”

He squeezed her chin lightly between his forefinger and thumb. “For now, I’ll let this go, but we’ll discuss this in detail later.”

She pulled out of his hold and walked around him. She couldn’t be in this place anymore, with people she loathed all around her, with her husband’s inner circle of friends whom she despised. She needed to escape the insanity of what her life had become, and tonight’s distraction was no longer working. She’d hoped to find Warren in a disparaging position, one she could leverage to her own advantage in negotiating her stay at the Fallon house. Instead, she found him conversing with others, as though debauchery weren’t happening everywhere you turned in the room.

And now, with what Hayden was asking of her … it was too great a risk. She needed to think this through, weigh the consequences, before she dared to do anything that might ruin one of the most beautiful, reliable, and solid relationships in her life.

Hayden wasn’t far behind her and looped her arm through his as he walked beside her

“Are we done here?” he asked.

She felt an edge of anger in his tone. Was it directed at her? She couldn’t say, nor did she want to ask him.

“I think it wise we leave.” Her voice came off just as cold. None of the warmth was left from their private moment.

“Then we’ll call for our carriage.”

He led her through the ballroom and toward the foyer, his steps determined. Did he want to be away from her or away from the revelry around them? He gave instruction to the footman to find their carriage, and they waited in silence for it to come around.

“Your Grace,” someone bellowed out.

The breath caught in Jessica’s throat as she turned slowly to see who had called after Hayden. By the sudden grip on her arm it was obvious he was surprised anyone had figured out his identity. Jessica didn’t make eye contact with the gentleman who approached. He was portly, with a dark gray beard and graying hair. He wore a simple mask that matched his head-to-toe ensemble of black. Jessica could not place him, but his voice was somewhat familiar.

Hayden’s expression was carefully blank as he turned to face the older man.

“Hilliard,” he said simply.

Jessica recalled who the man was now. An old friend of her husband’s and not someone she wanted to recognize her. Though the odds were in her favor, being that she’d only ever been introduced to him on two occasions. In all likelihood, he’d not remember her. But who else would anyone assume to be on the arm of the duke?

“I thought that was you, old chap,” Hilliard said. “I won’t keep you long, as I see your hands are full this evening.”