Fortune's Folly - The Confessions Of A Duchess Part 4

They went out into the market square. It was a bl.u.s.tery night with the wind rising and the moon dodging behind ragged clouds. The Morris Clown Inn, a sprawling coaching inn that dated back to medieval times, was on the southern corner of the square, opposite the town's small but nicely appointed a.s.sembly rooms. Fortune's Folly had been little more than a hamlet until fifty years before when Sir Monty's grandfather had taken advantage of the fact that the natural springs around the village were thought to be medicinal. He had created a spa, laid out a small park, built an a.s.sembly room and a circulating library and had watched Fortune's Folly grow into an exclusive watering place. There were new houses and shops, and in the summer the town attracted visitors from Harrogate and York. Now that it was the marriage mart of England it attracted a fair amount of riffraff, as well.

"Oh dear," Mr. Argyle, the master of ceremonies, said unhappily, on seeing them. "Not two more gentlemen. Disastrous!"

He threw open the doors to the a.s.sembly rooms and Dexter immediately saw the problem. The place was packed with men in evening dress and there was scarcely a lady to be seen.

"All the respectable visitors have left town," Mr. Argyle said. "They say that Fortune's Folly is full of fortune-hunting rogues who lower the tone of the place."

"They're not mistaken," Miles said. He caught Dexter's arm. "Look, there's that dashed libertine Jasper Deech. He's been hanging out for a rich wife for years."

"So have you," Dexter pointed out. "So have I."

"That's different." Miles looked affronted. "Deech is very unsavory." He paused. "It's not impossible that Deech could be the one engaged in criminal activities. I have often wondered where his money comes from. And that is Warren Sampson over there-" He gestured toward a middle-aged, florid-looking man who was rocking back on his heels as he surveyed the room. "I cannot believe that he seeks a wife here. He is not in need of a fortune."

"Men like that always want to increase their capital," Dexter said dryly. "I thought he was already married?"

"He buried his second wife last year so perhaps he is looking for a replacement," Miles said. "Speaking of disagreeable characters, is that not Stephen Armitage over there, as well, fawning over Laura Cole? It certainly isn't marriage he's after there! He tried to fix his interest with her in London before she was even out of mourning. Frightfully bad form."

Dexter spun around so quickly that he almost dislodged three gla.s.ses of lemonade from a tray carried by one of the servants. He apologized and tried to right the drinks before they splashed all over his and Miles's shoes. It had not occurred to him that Laura would be present that evening but now he wondered why he had made that a.s.sumption. The main purpose of the a.s.semblies might be for the young ladies of the neighborhood to meet eligible men, but it was also an opportunity for everyone in the community to meet and mingle and talk, and tonight there was much to talk about.

"Laura is in looks tonight," Miles said, still watching the dowager d.u.c.h.ess with deep appreciation. "I always thought she was far prettier than anyone gave credit and now that she is rid of that louse of a husband she positively blooms-" He broke off on a splutter as Dexter took him by the neck cloth and pulled tight.

"You are mighty familiar, bandying about her grace's name with such ease," Dexter said through his teeth. The unbearable thought that Miles might be another of Laura's lovers took hold in his mind and could not be dislodged, no matter how he tried. Miles was a rake of the first order and his conquests were legendary. Dexter knew that it should not matter to him if Laura Cole was simply another name on the list but the fury that clouded his mind was as sudden and uncontrollable as it was unexpected and illogical. Miles, Stephen Armitage, and no doubt a dozen or more others...

"Steady, old fellow," Miles protested, flailing his arms about and wheezing for breath, "Laura is my cousin! Known her since we were children. Why shouldn't I use her name?"

Cousin. The word pierced the rage that seemed to envelope Dexter's mind like a blanketing fog. Laura was Miles's cousin, not his mistress. His grip eased slightly.

"Your cousin?"

Miles's eyes bulged. "That's what I said. Remember when we were in London I told you that I had a cousin living here? And what is it to you, anyway, Dexter?"

Dexter released him slowly. "I didn't know," he said. "I thought that the d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire was your cousin."

"She is." Miles looked affronted. "What the h.e.l.l's wrong with you, Dexter? No reason why you should know all the ramifications of my family tree, is there? I have cousins all over the Ton, not that it's any of your business."

"Good evening, Miles. Mr. Anstruther..."

Dexter and Miles both jumped. Laura was standing before them in a glorious dark blue silk dress embroidered with tiny diamonds. It was cut discreetly low over the swell of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s yet it seemed to Dexter that the very modesty of the design and the tight swathing of the material served only to emphasize the sheer sensuousness of Laura's curves. Whenever she moved, whenever she breathed, the gown shimmered with the radiance of a thousand tiny stars. She looked exquisite. He felt hot just looking at her.

Laura's hair was swept up into a matching diamond clip. It shone with rich golden and chestnut lights and it seemed to beg to be unpinned and touched. Dexter felt his breathing constrict as though all the air had been sucked from his lungs. He stood still and looked at her and absorbed what felt like a physical blow. His habitual cool rationality had never seemed so far away. He could not move. He could not speak.

"Is there some kind of problem?" Laura asked, looking pointedly at where Dexter's hands were still resting on Miles's shoulders.

"Not at all," Dexter said, coming to himself and smoothing Miles's jacket down hastily. "Lord Vickery merely had a small malfunction with his wardrobe."

"Next time you can call my tailor rather than attempting to a.s.sist yourself," Miles said, glaring at him. He adjusted the set of his jacket and bowed to Laura, taking her hand and pressing a kiss on it.

"How are you, Laura?" he asked, sounding suspiciously to Dexter as though he was putting extra emphasis on his use of her name. "It is good to see you again. You look divine tonight. That must be one of Madame Hortense's creations, I think."

"I thought," Dexter said sharply, unable to help himself, "that her grace was a relative of yours, Miles?"

"Not a close one," Miles said, smiling wolfishly at Laura.

"Thank you for the compliment, Miles." Laura's smile held a sparkle of mischief. "But you need not waste your time on me when there are other richer and more susceptible ladies about." She stood gracefully on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "Even so, it is a pleasure to see you, too."

"You are as proper as always," Miles said, smiling at her.

"And as impervious to your flattery," Laura responded, her lips tilting into an irresistible answering smile. "Pray remember I am a dowager d.u.c.h.ess, Miles, not a green girl to fall for your compliments."

Miles released her hand with every sign of reluctance. Dexter felt his temper bristle. "You are the most seductive dowager I have ever known," Miles said, "and trust me, I have known many and in every way imaginable."

"Enough, Miles," Laura said, her strict tone giving Dexter a most inappropriate frisson of s.e.xual excitement. "I do not wish to know about your conquests, nor do I have any intention of joining their ranks."

"Oh very well..." Miles sighed. "I hope Hattie is doing well," he said, reverting to a more cousinly tone. "I have brought some gifts for her from Mama. If I might call tomorrow..."

Dexter smiled. The image of an utter rake like Miles traveling from London with a child's toys in his luggage was irresistible. Miles shot him a dark look.

"Of course," Laura said. Dexter felt rather than saw her cast a quick look in his direction. Her tone was slightly strained. "Hattie will be delighted to see you."

"Capital," Miles said.

Laura turned to Dexter and her smile was several degrees cooler than the one she had given her cousin. It felt as though she was only addressing him because socially she had to. Dexter felt excluded. He did not like it. The urge to make her take notice of him, to force a response from her, was strong. This ice maiden could not have been more different from the sensuous woman he had held in his arms only a few hours before.

He caught her eye and for a second the awareness shimmered between them again. The noise from the crowd faded and it was just him and Laura looking at one another. He tried to force his gaze away from her and failed signally to do so.

Miles cleared his throat loudly and they both jumped.

"I wondered what had brought you to Fortune's Folly, Mr. Anstruther," Laura said icily, covering her embarra.s.sment with an arctic chill that Dexter thought might freeze him to the marrow. "I a.s.sume that both you and Miles are here because of Sir Montague's outrageous edict? It is the only thing that I can think of that would bring two such ineligible gentlemen as yourselves to the north."

"A man has to do what he must," Miles said gloomily, "no matter how repugnant it may seem."

"What an admirable approach to marriage, Miles," Laura said. She was laughing. "And you, Mr. Anstruther-" Once again her tone had chilled as she turned to Dexter. "Do you hold the same sentiments? Your mama has made no secret of the fact that she wishes you to seek a rich and conformable wife." She sounded derisive, as though Dexter were tied to his mother's ap.r.o.n strings.

"Dexter needs to try harder to find a girl to suit him," Miles said, grinning maliciously at Dexter. "He's too d.a.m.ned-sorry, dashed-particular."

"Possibly you cannot find a suitable bride because most young ladies have the wit not to be conformable these days," Laura said. She threw Dexter a mocking look. "Is that what you want, Mr. Anstruther? A henwit?"

What Dexter wanted was to respond to Laura Cole's provocation by shaking her-or possibly kissing her senseless. He felt alarmingly heated, as though his clothes were too tight and were smothering him. He wanted to break out of their restrictions with a roar and grab Laura and carry her off. He wanted to forget that his life was governed by sense and order these days and be decidedly disordered and irrational.

"And what of your own matrimonial prospects, your grace?" he inquired smoothly, clamping down on instincts that were becoming more ungovernable by the moment. "You are, after all, a single woman and a resident of Fortune's Folly. As such you fulfill all the criteria for Sir Montague's tax. Are you resigned to handing over half of your fortune to him?"

Laura laughed. "I most certainly am not, Mr. Anstruther! I have no intention of doing so. But with so small a fortune of my own I imagine that I am a negligible part of Sir Montague's plan."

"I doubt," Dexter said, "that Sir Montague sees any sum of money as negligible, your grace."

"Well, he won't get his hands on mine," Laura snapped.

"Then you will marry to avoid the tax?" Dexter enjoyed the flash of anger he had provoked in Laura's eyes.

"That is even less likely than that I would willingly hand over my minuscule fortune, Mr. Anstruther," she said. "I have had one husband and have no wish for a second."

Dexter could well believe that having finally got rid of the ghastly Charles, Laura would not wish to compromise her freedom again. And why should she, when widows could manage their lovers as they pleased as long as they showed a little discretion? The thought did nothing to soothe his aggravation.

"I am fascinated to know how you plan to solve this dilemma," he said. "It is marry or pay, is it not?" He raised his brows. "Are you not trapped, your grace? Sir Montague's edict has the weight of the law behind it, distasteful as it may be. Surely you cannot intend to break that law? You, a dowager d.u.c.h.ess and pillar of the community?"

For a moment he thought he saw a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt in Laura's face before she veiled her expression again.

"The law can be opposed in the courts," she said frostily.

"Ah, I see." Dexter's smile broadened. "You intend to spend a fortune you do not possess on lawyers to thwart Sir Montague?"

"It is the principle of the matter that counts," Laura said.

"And you are such a principled person." Dexter felt a stab of anger at her hypocrisy.

"As are you, Mr. Anstruther," Laura said, her contemptuous gaze sweeping the room full of debutantes and making her meaning explicitly clear. "An excellent way to save time-combining your search for a bride and a mistress in one place!"

As the intensity of their exchange had increased so had they drawn closer together and now Dexter realized that they were almost touching. He could see all the little flecks of gold in Laura's hazel eyes and the shadow of each individual eyelash against her skin. The curve of her cheek would fit so neatly into the caress of his palm, just as her lips had fitted his as though they had been made for that very purpose. He wanted to kiss her again with all the abandonment he had felt earlier. As soon as he thought it he ached for it.

Both of them had forgotten Miles, who was watching this interchange with eyebrows raised.

"Excuse me," he murmured, "I can see that you do not need me here. I think I shall seek out the card room."

Dexter saw the shock in Laura's eyes as she realized how far she had let their exchange go. She wrenched her attention from him. One of her gloved hands crept up to her throat. He could see that she was shaking slightly. The diamonds on her bodice shimmered with each unsteady breath she took and he felt the same shocking uncertainty sweep through him. He had lost himself, forgotten everything in the potency of that moment with her.

A crash and the babble of voices cut across the hum of noise in the room and both of them turned with relief to see that Sir Montague Fortune had come into the ballroom with his brother, Tom, and had been the immediate recipient of a gla.s.s of lemonade full in the face. The perpetrator of this outrage was an extremely pretty young lady who looked barely out of the schoolroom. Tom Fortune, a wicked-looking young man who possessed all the humor that his brother lacked, was laughing as he shook the stray drops of liquid from his coat.

"Monty!" the debutante shrieked. "How dare you plot to steal my money, you great oaf? I'll see you pay for this!"

"Have you met Lady Elizabeth Scarlet, Sir Montague's half sister?" Laura inquired. "Her mother was married first to Sir Montague's father and then after his death to the Earl of Scarlet. Lizzie is Sir Montague's ward now that her parents are both dead. He has, naturally enough, upset her with his money-grabbing plan. They have a somewhat volatile relationship."

"I would never have guessed," Dexter said. He shook his head disapprovingly. "I should think Sir Montague deserves half her fortune in return for having to put up with such a hoyden as a sister."

Laura tutted. "What a stuffed shirt you sound, Mr. Anstruther, six and twenty going on six and seventy. Clearly Lady Elizabeth is one you will need to cross off your list of eligible females. I see what Miles means when he claims you are too particular."

Dexter looked at her suspiciously. "What makes you think that I would have a list, your grace?" he asked.

Laura's hazel eyes sparkled with malicious amus.e.m.e.nt. "It is the sort of thing you would do. Groundwork, preparation, research..." She waved a dismissive hand. "Those are your trademarks, are they not, Mr. Anstruther? Of course you would have a list. You are the sort of man who thinks he has everything organized only to see it spiral spectacularly and inexplicably out of control."

Her appraisal was so uncannily accurate that Dexter was silenced for a moment.

They both watched as a servant rushed out with a cloth for Sir Montague to mop his face and another to clean up the pools of lemonade on the floor.

"Surely you cannot condone Lady Elizabeth's actions?" Dexter said. "They hardly accord with the idea of public propriety that you yourself pretend to embrace so heartily."

Laura gave him an unfriendly look. "You are correct, of course," she said. "I do not condone the throwing of lemonade. It can stain wooden floors very badly." She watched Sir Montague retire from the room, dabbing ineffectually at his face and clothing with the large white napkin, and sighed.

"Retreating in disarray," she remarked. "If only the war could be won as easily as this first battle."

Suddenly she turned fully to face him.

"If you think to find your innocent little bride here in Fortune's Folly, you should think again, Mr. Anstruther," Laura said. She tapped her closed fan in the palm of her gloved hand in a gesture that betrayed her irritation. "It would be a mistake."

Dexter moved closer to her. She seemed uncomfortable with his proximity and tried to move away but the press of the crowd in the a.s.sembly rooms was great now, pushing them together. Her body brushed his, the rub of her skirts sensuous against his thigh. Dexter could feel the heat of her through the thin silk and feel also the tiny quiver that racked her as their bodies touched. It incited a jolt of l.u.s.t straight through him, a molten hunger sufficient to banish all thoughts of logic and sense and conjure visions of tangled drapes and of Laura's pale nakedness in the moonlight.

"I am fascinated to discover that you take such an interest in my wedding plans, your grace," he said softly.

The pink color stained Laura's cheeks with both anger and reluctant arousal.

"I have no interest in either you or your plans," she said sharply, stepping back as the crowd shifted a little. "I speak only to warn you, Mr. Anstruther. We want no fortune hunters here."

"And you are certain," Dexter said, "that you have no personal concern in my case?"

Laura laughed shortly. "You have a remarkably good opinion of yourself, Mr. Anstruther. Why should I care? I did not seek you out this evening. I do not look for the company of a man hypocritical enough to censure me for my behavior and then adhere to a double standard himself." She flicked her fan angrily. "You are just like all the rest, are you not, Mr. Anstruther? As I said earlier, you seek a biddable wife and a complaisant mistress simultaneously."

Dexter laughed. "No one," he said politely, "could call you complaisant, your grace."

"No one will call me your mistress, either!" Laura snapped, her hazel eyes narrowing disdainfully. "And as for the biddable wife, I suggest you forget her, too, and leave Yorkshire at once. I am persuaded that you are far better suited to London. Besides-" she gave her fan another angry swish "-you will have a deal of trouble finding a lady willing to entertain your suit if you put fishing before your bride, as you seem inclined to do. Surely you are aware that real men do not fish?"

Dexter gave her a look that brought the hot blood surging back into her face. "I have had no complaints, madam," he said. "You were the one who rejected a real man earlier because you could not deal with him."

He saw her eyes widen with shock at this outrageous and deliberate provocation. "Why, you-"

She raised her hand and his fingers closed tightly about her wrist.

"Surely you would not strike me in public?" His tone was soft and mocking. He drew her resisting body closer to his, feeling the heat in her and the tension and the anger. His own body was taut; the need for her pounding in his veins, destroying all good sense or cool thought.

"What scandalous behavior that would be from the perfect Dowager d.u.c.h.ess of Cole," he said. "Are you willing to smash that public facade, your grace, or shall I do it for you?"

For a moment they stared deep into each other's eyes and he saw the fury in the depths of hers, and also the shadow of fear that he might just do as he threatened and kiss her here, now, in front of the a.s.sembled crowds. He imagined what it would be like to bend her back like a bow against his encircling arm, to take that tempting mouth with his, to drink from her until he was finally sated. Not the actions of a man seeking a conformable wife, perhaps, but very definitely those of a man driven mad with l.u.s.t by a wanton.

Laura wrenched her wrist from his grasp and took a step back. Her face was flushed as pink as a blown rose and her eyes were bright.

"You forget yourself, Mr. Anstruther," she said. "Where is your self-control?" She smoothed her skirts down with a quick, nervous gesture and Dexter felt a savage satisfaction to see her hands shaking slightly.

"I came over in the first place only to see Miles," she said quietly. "Next time I find you standing beside him, I shall move on."

"So you say," Dexter said, "but your cousin is long gone-" he nodded across the room to where Miles could be seen in the doorway to the refreshment room, engaging Alice Lister in conversation "-yet you are still here with me in spite of your suggestion that we avoid one another."

Laura chewed her lush lower lip. "That can be easily remedied. Good evening, Mr. Anstruther. I hope you will return home soon. You belong in London where your f.e.c.kless, libertine habits will be more appreciated."

She turned sharply on her heel and walked away from him and Dexter took a deep breath and allowed the tension to ease from his body. The blood still drummed through his veins with an insistent l.u.s.tful beat but he felt chilled, as well.

"Your f.e.c.kless libertine habits..."

He was more like his father than he had thought, more like him than he wanted to be. He barely recognized himself when he was with Laura. He lost control and his need for her seemed to distort all else.

He watched as Sir Jasper Deech slithered across to ambush Laura on her way to the door. Lord Armitage hovered in the wings, waiting for an opportunity to cut in on the pair of them. Tom Fortune actually blew her a kiss across the ballroom. Dexter's temper tightened to think that all those men probably viewed Laura as a widow who might provide the sort of amatory entertainments that would ease the tedium of courting a virginal heiress. Perhaps they imagined that they might woo a debutante during the day and sport with a widow at night. Perhaps she might welcome their advances. The fact that he knew it should not matter to him just made it matter all the more.