A Duke Of Her Own-[Rogues and Roses 01] Read online

  Her gaze darted between the three men, and Hawk wondered at her hesitation, as though she feared disappointing someone.

  “Jenny is the older. She is two-and-twenty, while Kate is twenty,” she finally said with as much enthusiasm as one reciting memorized passages from a work of literature.

  “Are they beauties?” Falconridge asked.

  “I can’t answer that for you. As I’m sure you are well aware, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

  That statement didn’t bode well. Unlike Ravensley, Hawk did not lack imagination. As a matter of fact, at times, it was far too vivid. Her words conjured up visions of women with absurdly large noses, pointed teeth, and coarse hair growing out of warts on their chins. “Would you classify them as beautiful?” he asked.

  She glanced down at the book. “Yes.”

  “Charming?”

  She lifted her gaze. “They are two very different ladies. It does them a disservice to apply the same description to each of them.”

  He fought to rein in his impatience. “Then describe each of them separately, which I believe is what your brother asked of you to begin with.”

  She picked up the book, set it in her lap, and he wondered if she’d been tempted to bonk him on the head with it. Why was she not more forthcoming with the information? What was it about the ladies she had no desire for them to know? If he did learn something unsavory, would it alter his plans? He wasn’t certain it would.

  Again, she lifted the book, set it down, looked at each of them, and said, “They defy description. They must be met to be understood, to be known, to be adequately appreciated.”

  “For pity’s sake, Louisa, you spent the morning with the ladies, did you not?” Ravensley snapped. “Surely you can provide us with less cryptic information.”

  “Alex, I have been charged with finding them suitable husbands,” she repeated.

  “Three candidates have willingly strolled into your library, lambs before the slaughter. I fail to understand why you are not more forthcoming,” Hawk said.

  “It appears you have a very low opinion of marriage,” she said.

  “Name me one gentleman who has a high opinion of it. Men marry when their backs are to the wall, and they have no other recourse.”

  “Are you implying your back is to the wall?”

  Damnation! How had this conversation turned to a discourse on him and his views of marriage?

  “I believe we have strayed from our purpose,” he said. “You are charged with finding them suitable husbands, and here we are.”

  She took a deep breath, angled her chin slightly, and folded her hands around the book as though she needed it to gain strength. “Yes, well, unfortunately, I do not find the three of you suitable.”

  Falconridge scoffed; Ravensley shook his head. Hawk could do little more than stare at her in stunned disbelief. He was a duke, had been a duke since the age of twelve. Of course he was suitable.

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” she said quietly, “but it is not my place to convince you that the ladies are worthy of you, rather you must convince me that you are worthy of an introduction.”

  “I am your brother!”

  “I’m well aware of that fact, and it pains me greatly that I can’t recommend you without hesitation.” She sighed. “But I can’t.”

  “This is damned ridiculous,” Falconridge stated, coming to his feet. “I will not grovel—”

  “Sit down,” Ravensley said. “She is merely being temperamental.”

  “I refuse to stoop so low as to have to prove myself worthy to anyone, least of all a foreigner.” Falconridge sneered. “Or a chaperone.”

  Hawk saw Lady Louisa flinch, and his heart went out to her. Obviously none of this was easy for any of them. “See here, Falconridge,” he said, “there’s no cause to take your frustrations out on Lady Louisa.”

  Falconridge bowed slightly. “My apologies, my lady. I’ve been accused on more than one occasion of having too much pride, but, along with my title, it is all that is left to me, so I shall hang on to it for a bit longer if you don’t mind. I bid you all good night and shall see myself out.”

  He’d spun on his heel and was halfway across the room before Ravensley called out, “Falcon—”

  “Let him go,” Hawk said. “Less competition for us.”

  Ravensley turned and glared at his sister. “That didn’t go well at all, now did it? You somehow managed to insult one of my friends—”

  “While you managed to insult me. I am not temperamental.”

  Ah, but she did have a temper. It was there in her eyes, flaring brightly, turning the blue slightly darker until it resembled the hottest flame in a fire. God help him, Hawk felt his body tightening with desire at the very sight of so much emotion. Had he ever seen a woman exhibit true anger? The women he usually entertained were only too pleased to have his attention. They would certainly never challenge, rebuff, or question him. He fully expected Lady Louisa to fling the book at her brother at any moment. She was grasping it so hard that her knuckles were turning white.

  “All women are temperamental,” Ravensley stated flatly. “You are a woman, and, therefore, it stands to reason you are temperamental.”

  “That is a ludicrous assumption, equal to saying all men are dolts.”

  “Now see here—”

  “No, you see.”

  She rose swiftly. She was breathing harshly, quickly, her breasts straining against the fabric of her gown, and Hawk’s body tightened further. He was going to be in a rather embarrassing predicament if he suddenly had to come to his feet. He tried to focus on reading the title of the book she was holding, anything, anything, to avert his attention from her directly.

  She was the daughter of an earl, the sister to his most trusted friend, not some common doxy. His reaction was entirely inappropriate, not to mention highly disconcerting.

  “It’s because of my mistress, isn’t it?” Ravensley was saying, and Hawk wondered what else of the conversation he might have missed, what had led to that assumption. “You don’t approve, you never have, and yet you must realize all gentlemen of good breeding have a mistress.”

  “I don’t,” Hawk said laconically, which brought two sets of blue eyes to bear down on him. He wasn’t certain why he’d felt a need to defend himself, to offer up something that might cause him to gain a bit of favor with Lady Louisa. He was attempting to pursue his matrimonial goals, and she served as the shortest, least bothersome path to his destination. Or at least those had been his thoughts before this fiasco of a meeting.

  “Lady Louisa, you had stated earlier, before tempers began to flare, that you did not consider us worthy of an introduction. Would you care to elaborate on how you arrived at your assessment? After all, it is quite possible you have misconceptions where we are concerned.”

  She hugged the book to her chest as though it could serve as a shield. “When my brother returns home at dawn, after spending an evening in your company, he reeks of alcohol and cheap perfume. He must be assisted up the stairs, and his tongue is quite loose. I shall not embarrass either of us by repeating his utterances. Suffice it to say I know no lady is safe in your presence, you value only the conquest, but not the prize, and are usually quick to discard what you have won. How can I recommend you to a lady for whom I have been given the responsibility of ensuring her lifelong happiness?”

  Rubbing his index finger below his lower lip, he studied her solemnly. She knew quite a bit more about him than he realized. Little wonder she’d not favor him with an introduction. “I thought her happiness was dependent upon her acquiring a title. What lady wouldn’t be thrilled by the prospect of becoming a duchess?”

  “And when the novelty of being a duchess wears off?”

  “Hopefully by the time that happens, I shall have my heir and my spare, and I will not fault her for seeking her happiness elsewhere.”

  “And her pleasure?”

  He was taken aback by her question. What did ladies of quality
know about pleasure? In particular, what did Lady Louisa know? Was her knowledge acquired through experience or hearsay? What exactly had Ravensley mumbled as he was carted up the stairs to bed, and what questions might she have asked him in his vulnerable state when he was most likely to have a loose tongue? Seemed it was so loose, Hawk was damned surprised it hadn’t fallen out.

  Hawk cleared his throat. “Of course. I would never deny a woman the opportunity for pleasure.”

  She regarded him closely as though trying to determine if his words should be taken at face value or had an underlying meaning. If she were any other woman, he would have intended a double entendre. He was balanced on a fine edge here, feeling as though he were only just seeing her for the first time, and he could not deny he was intrigued…was in danger of flirting with her, enticing her to see things his way. Seduction was a great convincer.

  “How terribly generous of you,” she finally stated.

  “I thought so.”

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but you’ve said nothing to convince me that I should recommend you. If anything, you have managed to reinforce my belief you would be entirely unsuitable.”

  “Your stance seems a bit harsh.”

  “Be that as it may, it is my stance. However, on the off chance I have misjudged your suitability, I won’t do anything to undermine your—or my brother’s—attempts to win the ladies over, but neither will I encourage you to seek their favor, nor shall I encourage them to favor you.”

  “Louisa—”

  “My mind is set, Alex,” she said, effectively cutting off whatever plea Ravensley was on the verge of delivering. “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a great many matters that need my attention before I leave on the morrow.”

  Her repeatedly finding fault with Hawk had effectively doused his desire. He came to his feet easily, bowing slightly. “I appreciate your forthrightness, Lady Louisa.”

  “I did not mean to be cruel.”

  “I do not believe you could be cruel if you tried. I further appreciate that you take your responsibilities so seriously.”

  “If I may be so bold, Your Grace, perhaps it is time you did the same.”

  “I am trying, my lady.”

  “There are Americans for whom I’m not responsible—”

  “But none so wealthy. And while you may find fault with me, allow me to reassure you I’m not one to settle for less when I can have more.”

  “Yes, based on my brother’s ramblings, I understand you are a man who prefers excess in all things.”

  Hawk was damned tempted to snatch the book from her hands and hurl it at her brother. It was not often he was speechless.

  “I believe my point has been taken,” she said quietly. “I bid you a good night.” Without waiting for them to reply, she strolled gracefully from the room.

  “I damned well don’t believe her refusing to help us,” Ravensley said, once the door closed behind her.

  “I have to wonder exactly what you might have said while you were bumbling up the stairs,” Hawk countered.

  “Nothing of any consequence, I assure you. Late nights, drinking, carousing…I suppose I can’t blame her for thinking poorly of us. But no matter. We are still the best of the lot, and we should have no trouble winning the hands of the Rose sisters. Some brandy to toast the challenge that awaits us?”

  “By all means.”

  Hawk glanced back toward the door. He feared a greater challenge than gaining the attention of a Rose daughter might be hovering on the horizon. For him, the challenge might turn out to be ignoring the Rose chaperone.

  Chapter 3

  “I can hardly signify that you insulted my friends to the degree that you did.”

  Louisa understood perfectly that Alex was not only furious but hurt. She’d done more than insult his friends; she’d wounded him to the core. She folded her shawl with extreme care, not because the woolen garment was particularly delicate but because she felt fragile at the moment and needed something comforting to steady her. Speaking the truth had been no easier for her than hearing it had been for them.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but as I stated, I’ve been charged with finding appropriate husbands for these ladies, and you and your friends are hardly appropriate.”

  “The ladies are looking for titled husbands. You don’t get much more titled than a duke, unless you latch on to royalty, and I daresay that’s not going to happen. We are all very nicely titled, thank you very much.”

  Louisa placed the shawl in the trunk. She’d dismissed her maid the moment Alex had barged into her bedroom. While the door remained ajar and the possibility existed that the servants would overhear the conversation, they were all adept at keeping their master’s business to themselves. Or at least they had been when they were properly paid. Several had sought employment elsewhere. The three who remained were quite loyal.

  “It is the ladies’ mother who is so set on their acquiring titled husbands, not the ladies themselves.” She faced Alex. “They are seeking love and passion. How can I, with a clear conscience, recommend gentlemen who in all likelihood can never give them love, who want them solely for financial reasons?”

  “Do you honestly believe you will find a peer anywhere in England who will not look upon them and first hear the clinking of sovereigns?”

  “We can always hope.”

  “You are not that naïve. Just this morning you were lamenting your own impoverished state and how it guaranteed that you would never have a husband.”

  “Yet you were arguing that a man would see my true worth. Can the same not be said for these American heiresses?”

  He turned to the window, gazing out on the night-shrouded gardens, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. He seldom got cross with her, but when he did his temper could be quite frightful. She knew he was attempting to regain control of his emotions before he said something they might both regret.

  Gathering up her courage, she took a tentative step toward him. “Jenny and Kate are extremely kind and so very young and much more naïve than I. They argue over which comes first: passion or love. Jenny wants passion and Kate wants love, and I’m well aware that in all likelihood they will find themselves married to an aloof lord who will grant them neither passion nor love. While I could argue all night they are my main concern, in reality, it is myself for whom I worry.”

  She saw him stiffen, his back going straighter than before, and she took another step toward him. “I will be their chaperone for only a short while. It is an odd sort of venture. In order to be successful, I must not be in the position overly long. One Season, two at the most. The heiresses will be married, and I will be searching for another lady in need of my services. I must be known as a chaperone who delivers what she promises: a lord of the highest caliber. You and your friends have proven on more than one occasion that you do not qualify.”

  He spun around. “If I were to marry one of these heiresses, you would not have to seek another lady to chaperone. You would have an allowance. I would see after your needs, and with a generous settlement, I would be in a position to offer a dowry and find you a husband. Do you not see that we are in the ideal position to help each other?”

  “You are asking me to compromise my integrity.”

  “You owe these ladies nothing!”

  “Have you never made a promise?”

  “Of course, I’ve made promises.”

  “Did you keep them?”

  She could see in his startled eyes that he’d recognized the trap she’d set. She loved him dearly, but sometimes he clearly underestimated the cleverness of women.

  “Did you?” she prodded.

  “Yes,” he finally admitted reluctantly.

  “Why?”

  “Because it was the honorable thing to do.”

  “Do you expect less of me?”

  “I suppose not.” He was clearly disgruntled with the truth, but at least his temper had waned. “Still, I think you have vastly underrated us as possib
le matches for your ladies.”

  She smiled benignly. “You perhaps. But not Falconridge. And certainly not Hawkhurst.”

  Without a doubt Hawkhurst was the worst of the lot. Her brother had gotten into no mischief whatsoever before that one had come into his life.

  “We enjoy having a jolly good time. I don’t see that as a fault.”

  “Drinking, carousing, and getting into mischief until dawn…the very fact you don’t see these behaviors as a fault is what makes you so very unsuitable.”

  “Rather convoluted thinking there, Louisa.”

  “Not from where I stand. I wish I could recommend you, I truly do, but I simply can’t.”

  “But you won’t speak unfavorably about us?”

  “Did I not say exactly that earlier?”

  “Yes, but you are a woman, and women are fickle.”

  “You have such a poor opinion of women, it is a wonder you are seeking to find a wife.”

  “It is my obligation to do so.”

  “Yet one more reason why you would not be suitable.”

  He laughed boisterously. “Do you honestly believe any man wants to get married?”

  “I would think so, yes.”

  “Trust me, dear sister, when I tell you that no man desires marriage.”

  Louisa had always thought moving out of the home in which she’d been born and raised would come about only when she was moving into the home of the man she’d married. It was a strange experience indeed to stand in a bedchamber that was not hers and to try to envision it as hers—temporarily to be sure—but for several weeks, perhaps months. Perhaps years!

  She had stayed at the country estate of friends, but never for more than a few days. She had been a visitor, a welcomed guest.

  Within this household, she was something else entirely. Certainly not family. Not quite a servant. Not a friend.

  With a sigh she sat on the bed, on the unfamiliar comforter. She was a chaperone, and this was now her home. In time, she would move on to another. Like a gypsy. With no one place to call her own.