Page 3 of Her Wicked Duke
“There was also the time he disliked how a man spoke to him, so he ran his business into the ground.” Clarice tutted. “He is not a gossip, and he deals with these matters behind closed doors so his reputation does not suffer. But there are eyes everywhere, watching and waiting to trip men like him up.”
“Did you know he also attempted to ruin a ship’s voyage because he thought the items onboard were counterfeit but it turned out they were original? He could have ruined the merchant’s career, but he did not care!” Jocelyn shook her head. “He was stopped quickly, thank Heavens.”
“I dread to think what he would do to women,” Clarice bemoaned.
“You must have heard about poor Lady Berenger?” Jocelyn asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.
Anne and Clarice shook their heads.
“They were courting, but out of nowhere, he walked away from her one day when they were promenading. He completely ignored her every day since. She was heartbroken, and he knew she had fallen for him. He is dangerous for women—utterly uncaring! It took Lady Berenger a whole other Season after that scandal to find a suitor who was willing to ask for her hand in marriage. It is a shame he even has to attend today.”
Anne nodded along, unsure what to think. The Duke had been grim and unapproachable, but he had always looked at her when she entered a room, even if he had barely spoken to her during the Christmases he had spent at Angleton Estate. However, he had not been cruel.
She was about to argue against that when, over Clarice’s shoulder, she saw the Earl of Satton head toward the terrace, finishing off a glass of champagne. He swaggered with intention, something she lusted for. She enjoyed a man who was confident.
Anne wished for a man who knew exactly who he was and what he could offer without being boastful.
So far, she had seen that in the Earl of Satton. And she was quite hopeful they would pick up where they had left off last Season. Later, they might dance, but she saw an opportunity to steal a private moment with him.
Georgia followed her gaze and giggled. “Ah, it appears that one of our hostesses shall be taking her leave any moment,” she teased.
Anne’s cheeks flushed. “I only wish to thank him for attending the ball.”
“Of course,” Jocelyn drawled, with a knowing smile. “A very passionate thank you.”
Anne giggled, blushing deeper. “Excuse me, ladies,” she murmured and then slipped away to the sound of their laughter as she wove her way through the ballroom and toward the terrace beyond.
Chapter Two
On her way out toward the terrace, a figure seemed to materialize from the shadows of the ballroom, having lurked behind a group of gentlemen who seemed unable to decide who to ask to dance first. He pushed off the wall and stopped Anne in her tracks.
“Excuse me, Sir,” she mumbled, trying to duck around the figure.
She had intended to follow the Earl of Satton outside, hoping to have a private moment with him. Her cheeks flushed when she thought of kissing him in the shadows of the terrace, so close to the guests inside but utterly concealed. The thrill made it all the more exciting. Nobody would ever know, but Anne would have her secret first kiss.
But all those thoughts fled her mind when the figure refused to step aside. Anne tilted her head up to look at who had blockedher path. Her heart stuttered for a second, and anxiety gripped her.
Looking down at her was a face she had not seen in four years but was so utterly familiar, especially in her home. A face that had worn a permanent scowl, a face she had only seen brighten with a smile a handful of times four years ago.
“Your Grace?” she uttered, shocked.
Her friends had gossiped about his presence tonight, but they had merely spouted off rumors. It sounded like the ball had not been something the Duke of Winsor really would have attended. Or perhaps she had not wanted to run into him. He was Christian’s friend, not hers. She had merely been a background figure to the holidays he spent in their home.
“Where are you running off to, Little Hatson?” Alexander asked.
His voice was achingly familiar, that low, drawling voice that she had often heard in her brother’s study, despite not seeing each other for four years. He had often used that nickname to greet or tease her, and Anne hated it. It had always seemed that when he did interact with her on a rare occasion, it had simply been to get under her skin.
“I am not little,” she huffed. “I am the youngest but by no means little, Your Grace.”
“Oh?Your Grace? Come now, we are acquainted. I am Alexander to you, surely? I believe I was that year I stole the last slice of ham on your plate and you scolded me.”
“Yes, and then my father scoldedme,” she muttered.
“So, you are saying we are not friends?” he asked, an infuriating, teasing tilt to his smile.
“The only thing you are to me right now is a bother,” she shot back. “I must pass.”
“I do not think that is a good idea, Anne,” Alexander said. “I would recommend you turn around and return to your group of gaggling geese while they wait to be picked out from the flock for a turn about the dancefloor.”
