An Unsuitable Duchess. Laurie Benson

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      * * *

      Helena watched Lyonsdale walk towards the table full of his friends who were playing whist. As he leaned over to whisper into Winterbourne’s ear Lyonsdale’s black tail coat stretched across his broad shoulders. It was a pity the tails covered the outline of his muscular legs and his firm backside...

      She could feel Lord Hartwick’s eyes on her. For the last five years he had never once attempted to hide his hatred of her. It was perfectly reasonable, considering what she had done to him. However, watching the drama unfold around her at the time had been so entertaining she refused to feel any remorse. Her only regret was that she had believed his father’s lies. He had told her that he would marry her if she helped him with his plan—a plan that she was certain had devastated the man’s son.

      Why hadn’t Hartwick walked away when Lyonsdale left?

      He tossed a lock of hair out of his eyes and pulled back his shoulders. ‘He will never make you his duchess. I will see to that.’

      Although he was splendid to look at, his confidence grated. ‘Do not imagine you will be able to dissuade him.’

      ‘But I find I rather like the idea, and I don’t believe it will take much effort on my part. I suggest you search elsewhere for that elevated title you so desperately seek.’

      The foolish man thought he could best her. ‘I do not follow suggestions—least of all from you.’ She shook out her fan and pasted on a sly smile, glancing pointedly across the room at the woman she knew to be Hartwick’s current conquest. ‘You should tell your friend she should not wear emerald. The colour does nothing for her complexion.’

      Hartwick turned his head and followed her gaze. His lips pressed together as he took a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing footman. ‘Maybe in this instance you should follow my suggestion. I hear Ponsby is on his last breath. You might want to try him. You’d have better luck.’ He did nothing to hide the sarcasm from his voice.

      Why would she want a decrepit duke when she could have a handsome, virile one? ‘It appears you are worried for your friend. Do you believe I will damage him?’

      ‘Your excitement is stirred by breaking people. You won’t be able to do that with him.’

      ‘You mean like your Lady Caroline? It’s a pity she is no longer with us. Your father enjoyed her immensely.’ She arched her brow and anticipated his reaction.

      He brought his glass to his lips and his nostrils flared. ‘I see you have no remorse for your part in bringing an innocent woman to his bed.’

      Why should she? The foolish girl hadn’t been forced to accept every glass of champagne Helena offered her. She hadn’t poured them down the girl’s throat.

      Recalling that entertaining night brought a smile to her lips, and she leaned close to Hartwick, purposely pressing a full breast into his arm. ‘You might not want to discuss this here, where someone may overhear us,’ she whispered into his ear. ‘You don’t want them to guess the truth about her death, now, do you? Tell me...did she choose poison, or was it something more dramatic?’

      His jaw clenched, and his athletic body stiffened against her breast. If they had not been in a drawing room, with a good number of the ton around them, she might just have provoked him enough to strike her.

      She couldn’t help but smile. ‘I do believe I have found a weakness of yours, Lord Hartwick. Everyone has at least one, and it is so delicious whenever it is discovered.’

      ‘I warn you—if you cause any problems for Lyonsdale you will regret it.’ He moved from her side, downed the remainder of his champagne, and strode across the room to join his friends.

      It was amusing that he thought he could stop her. She deserved that title, and all the wealth and power that went with it. She should have had such an advantageous marriage the first time. Instead, due to one minor indiscretion, she had found herself married to a gambler and a drunkard.

      Hartwick’s father had promised to make her his marchioness and laughed at her when she’d reminded him. No one made a fool of her. It would be her turn to laugh when she became Duchess of Lyonsdale.

      * * *

      Near a corner of the Langleys’ ballroom, in front of a large potted palm, Katrina was learning that she was not the only one who regretted dancing with Lord Boreham.

      ‘I do so wish I did not have to agree to dance with everyone that asks me.’ Lady Mary Morley pouted as she stood beside Katrina. ‘On that last turn Lord Boreham managed to elbow me quite hard in the stomach.’

      ‘How was that even possible?’ Sarah asked, staring at the area in question, which was covered in elaborately embroidered white muslin.

      ‘I can assure you it’s possible,’ Lady Hammond commented dryly while fanning herself. ‘He once knocked heads with me during a quadrille.’

      They began to laugh, and Lady Mary immediately covered her mouth to stop herself. The diamond bracelet on her wrist sparkled in the candlelight.

      ‘Surely there must be a way to avoid him,’ Sarah said.

      Lady Mary shook her head. ‘Mother says one should have a full dance card if one is to be considered an incomparable, and if you decline even one offer to dance you must decline all the others.’

      Katrina found that rule of social conduct one of the hardest to accept. She suspected she was not the only woman in the ballroom who felt that way. ‘That hardly seems fair.’

      ‘That might be. However, it is the way of things. Mother says if one is to catch a duke or a marquess one needs to rise above all the other girls vying for such a title and become an incomparable.’

      ‘And how does one become an incomparable?’ Sarah asked with amusement.

      Lady Mary was not as naïve as she appeared. She tilted her head coyly. ‘I suppose if everyone knew the answer to that, no one girl would stand out.’

      ‘Well done, Lady Mary,’ Sarah said with a smile, glancing around the crowded ballroom. ‘And are there many dukes and marquesses for you to choose from?’

      ‘I’m afraid there are very few, and I don’t think I’d like to settle for an earl.’ She turned to her friend and offered Lady Hammond a genuine apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean anything against your Hammond.’

      Lady Hammond waved her fan carelessly in the air. ‘I’d much prefer a young earl to an old duke.’

      Both Lady Hammond and Lady Mary appeared to be a number of years younger than Katrina, and she wondered just how old the girl’s husband was.

      ‘Isn’t your father an earl?’ Katrina couldn’t help pointing that out to Lady Mary.

      Lady Mary adjusted her bracelets. ‘He is. However, my uncle is the Duke of Ralsteed. I was born to be a duchess. I do not have to settle for an earl.’

      Lady Hammond let out a delicate sniff. ‘You’d change your mind if Lord Hartwick made an offer for you. With his looks and those blue eyes, you’d forgive him his title.’

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