The Scandalous Duke Takes a Bride (9 page)

Did he know of any masked balls this evening? He could not recall having been invited to one in some time, possibly years.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

Her pout was lost under the white powder generously spread to cover her face and chest. What would she do if he reached for the elegant arch of her neck to pull her closer? He wanted to wipe away the white that hid the flush pink of her lips or at least touch her, but instead he balled his fists and shoved them into his pockets. The maids were present. Had they not been …

It was becoming harder and harder to resist her. Really, it was only a matter of time before he crossed the line of friendship that had always been between them.

“You’re not cross with me, are you?” she asked, with a delectable pout pushing out her lower lip.

“Never. I’m just surprised. Whose ball are we attending?”

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He felt the smile on her lips as she pulled away and motioned for the maids to help her dress. “That’s also my secret for the time being.”

He should not have doubted that the bodice would be as indecently cut as her corset. He could only shake his head at her luscious image and swallowed back the desire clouding his normally sound judgment. He knew his gaze lingered at her bosom; he also knew she noticed where his gaze was focused.

“It’s rather daring, don’t you think?” she said, drawing his gaze to her eyes. “The perfect attire for husband hunting—all the men will be entranced by my
eyes.
”

He’d have laughed if he weren’t affected by her lack of clothing. The truth was, men would be clamoring for her attention and he’d call the lot of them out if they dared to make a pass at her.

“Tell me you aren’t searching for a husband wearing that?”

“And if I was?” She looked over her shoulder, all innocent.

His eyes widened. “You’re not!”

She turned and patted him on the cheek. “You are always looking out for me. No, tonight is not a place I would wish to find a husband. But don’t ask me anymore or I’ll give away our location. It’s to be a surprise, Hayden.”

He reached for a powdered curl of her hair. “The forest green would have looked lovely with your true hair color.”

“And the red gives me away too easily. Let us be anonymous for one night.”

She reached for the lock of hair he’d snagged and pulled it from his fingers. She was smiling, and he’d do anything for her no matter how ludicrous if it kept that smile on her face.

“I wanted you out and about, so you needn’t convince me that we’ll do exactly as you wish this evening. Now tell me, what moth-ridden costume have your maids dug out of the attic for me?”

“I’ll have you know that I had a hand in finding a perfectly respectable frock coat.” Her smile widened, and laughter danced in her eyes. “And silk breeches.”

Hayden rubbed his hand roughly over his eyes. “Good God, Jez. I’ll look like a buffoon.”

“Not possible, darling.” Her eyes traveled the length of his torso, assessing him. Thank God for jackets that buttoned below the waist; otherwise Jez would have gotten an eyeful. “The ladies will swoon over your well-formed thighs. I won’t tell you what they’ll admire if you strip down to your shirtsleeves.”

He raised a brow without comment. The minx.

“I even managed to find you a harlequin mask that matches mine.”

At least no one would recognize him.

She walked over to the wall to pull the servants’ bell. Likely calling up someone to dress him. Tonight was turning out to be much more than expected, and that pleasantly surprised him.

“I don’t like the look of that grin one bit, Jez.”

She turned back to him. “I like hearing you call me Jez again. Does that mean you’re no longer angry with me?”

“I could never be angry with you, Jess,” he said pointedly. He preferred her true name, but “Jez” had stuck after Tristan had come up with the name when they’d all become fast friends. She was as wicked as a Jezebel, and as shameless—not that Hayden thought she should feel shame for anything she’d done. She might have the reputation of a woman without morals, but he knew otherwise. She was bold and brazen, outspoken and daring. And not one of those traits was bad to have in any woman.

The butler arrived in good order. “My lady,” he said with a bow on entering the boudoir.

“Take Hayden to the guest room to be dressed.”

“William is out on errands. Shall I act as His Grace’s valet?”

“Please do.”

Hayden was ushered off to another room he’d never before seen the inside of. It was small and tidy, paned windows on two walls joined, giving a magnificent view of the gaslit street below. The paper on the walls was moss green and the trim painted in gold leaf. The bed was made of blond wood and took up half the room. There was a stand where his jacket hung. It had already been aired and cleaned of lint.

Once dressed, he peered at the image he made in the floor-length mirror. “You’re a marvel, Wilson.”

“I do my best for Her Ladyship. She’s a kind mistress. It’s no matter to me what others think.”

“She is a good woman. Don’t think for one minute that I don’t see and cherish exactly who she is.”

Hayden was helped into his coat and then directed to the parlor to wait for Jez.

She entered ten minutes later, quite the vision.

Had he not known she would be dressed in disguise, he would not have guessed it to be her at all. Hayden took her black-lace–gloved hand to assist in twirling her about so he could get a good look at her costume.

The half mask fastened around her face—the strings hidden beneath her hair—was a confection of iridescent feathers like those of a blackbird, only they stretched and fanned a foot in the air. The porcelain was painted in golden vines and the shape scooped up over her high cheekbones where dollops of pink blush circled around her cheeks in true Georgian fashion.

“You haven’t put your mask on, Hayden.”

He let go of her hands to retrieve the gold-and-black mask from the tall side table and handed it to her before turning to give her his back. “I might as well give you the honor of putting it on since it’s your night.”

“You’re teasing me.” She pulled the satin ribbons tight and knotted them at the back of his head. The mask rested firmly on the top edge of his nose.

As he turned to her he said, “I live to do so.”

She looked him over carefully, her gaze lingering on his silk breeches. He hoped she was admiring his form as much as he’d admired hers earlier.

“I’ll have to be watchful of you, won’t I?”

“Whatever do you mean?” he said with an air of innocence that sounded believable to his own ears.

“You’re more playful than usual, Hayden. Don’t try to deny it.” Her gaze was distrustful—and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. “I can’t understand why you aren’t lecturing me for not donning widow’s weeds and moping about in a dreary state as any good widow should do.”

“You’re above that type of simpering, Jez.”

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. “Come, I don’t want to arrive too late.” She took his hand and practically dragged him from the room.

He halted her before she could escape their conversation. “I don’t recall my lack of you caring about your late husband bothering you before now. Do you want me to care? Or do you want to move on from the melancholy that’s grasped on to your life since his death?”

“People change.” She turned to look at him, her eyes not giving away what she was feeling. “
I’ve
changed,” she whispered, and dropped her gaze to the floor.

He didn’t know precisely why he pulled back from caressing the edge of her face and chin, but he held his position and gave her a thoughtful look as he crooked out his arm for her to take. She took it.

“Shall we then?” he said, leading them outside.

The sadness that had been awash in her eyes was replaced with renewed amusement.

He lifted her into the carriage, and before long they were on their way to a masked ball.

Chapter 7

The M——s’ annual masquerade had no shortage of guests. The rooms were packed so tightly that the invitees were practically crawling over one another. A few newcomers were present, as were a few visitors not easily identified. But their identities were not hidden from me.
Mayfair Chronicles
, July 1846 As they pulled up to the estate grounds Jessica began to have second thoughts. What had she been thinking in having such an extravagant night out? A simpler affair would have been ideal considering she hadn’t attended any functions in weeks.

It was too late to change her mind now that she had Hayden here, and it didn’t help that they’d spent the past hour and a half in a carriage to reach their destination. There really was no turning back, now.

It wasn’t long before Hayden realized where they were. “The Malverns’? I didn’t know you were so well acquainted with them to receive an invite to one of their less than reputable balls.”

There was a note of admiration in his tone, which amused her considering Hayden was typically the friend you could count on for being above reproach.

“‘Reputable’ hasn’t often factored into our affairs in the past,” she whispered teasingly in his ear, feeling a shiver of excitement at sharing tonight with Hayden.

The tips of her fingers slid through his hair as she checked the ties at the back of his mask to make sure it was still tied snugly in place.

“I was merely observing that I was unaware you were acquainted with the Malverns—they don’t even invite
me.
”

“Ah, but then, I wasn’t invited; my husband, on the other hand…” The rest didn’t need to be said.

It was obvious that while she had caused her fair share of scandals since the first week of her marriage, her husband had been acting just as disreputably—only with company that wasn’t as noticed because they preferred their bad behavior to take place behind closed doors.

And while it didn’t matter to her, being friends with the Duke of Alsborough had as many advantages and open doors as it did hindrances.

Hayden scrutinized her in his silent way. Was he having second thoughts?

“Live wildly for one night with me, Hayden.” When he still didn’t respond but gave her his pensive glance of disapproval, she reminded him, “You were the one who insisted I come out of hiding and show the
ton
that the old Jez is still kicking and screaming inside.”

He put his hands up as though caught in the act of taking something not his own. “I didn’t say we should do otherwise.”

“Perfect.” She nodded toward the carriage door. “I think it’s time we cause some trouble of our own, don’t you?”

“We might as well.” He exited first and put his hand out to help her down the stairs the driver had unrolled. “Hitch up your skirts, darling; the path is muddy.”

“I’m sure this old frock has seen worse. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just want to see a little more than my ankles.”

“You have no idea,” he responded.

She poked her head out of their hired carriage, giving him a curious look as she did so. She didn’t respond to his rib; she knew how much he liked to tease her.

There were at least three dozen carriages lined up along the drive, and she didn’t fail to notice that the majority of them happened to be unmarked. The attendees flocked toward the red-painted doors at the entrance of the three-story blond brick house.

Hayden pressed the flat of his hand against the base of her back and led her forward when she all but stalled in moving forward. She swallowed back any trepidation.

“I suppose we could have tried to get closer before leaving the comfort of our carriage,” he said, mistaking her hesitancy for discomfort on the walk to the door.

“I thought with it being unmarked, we would draw too much attention to our anonymity.”

Hayden’s laugh was deep and for her ears alone. “But it seems we’ll soon be in a ballroom full of anonymous patrons.”

“I underestimated just what a Malvern house party looked like. And while I’m not having second thoughts about attending, I still worry someone will call out my name and our ruse will be done.”

“There’s no reason we can’t simply observe all that is happening.”

“When you promised a night out about Town, I thought you meant we should participate to the fullest. I think you should be wicked with me.”

“How scandalous did you intend to be tonight?”

She smiled none too innocently at him.

Hayden’s hand moved higher under the train of her dress. His warmth and steady presence steeled her wavering resolve. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach for attending such a debauched party. Who was her husband to judge her when he indulged in far worse events than she would ever dare dream? Sure, she’d been to a number of gambling hells and kept interesting company over the years, but not the type of company who skirted the edges of society.

As she and Hayden approached the door she pulled the invitation from her reticule and handed it off to a footman admitting guests. He didn’t ask their names, just read the paper she handed him, then tossed it into a champagne bucket. She gave Hayden a shocked look. She wondered if he was as surprised and impressed by the secrecy of this evening as she.