Page 3 of The Duke and the Lady in Red
She tapped the edge of her glass to his. “To an interesting night.”
Peering over the rim of her flute as she slowly sipped, she watched him as he did the same, inspecting her. She’d never been so intrigued by a gentleman. Most fawned over her once they made their move and got her attention. This one was more cautious, more assessing. He would be a challenge, but if she was right about his position, she was more than willing to welcome it. She licked her lips, satisfaction coursing through her as his brown eyes darkened. He was not as skilled as she at appearing unaffected.
“Isn’t it rather scandalous for a gentleman to approach a woman he doesn’t know without someone at his side to make introductions?” she asked.
“I am nothing if I am not scandalous.”
“Should I be wary? Is my reputation at risk?”
“Depends on your reputation. Considering that you arrived without chaperone or escort, I assume your reputation is of little consequence to you.”
So he’d seen her arrive, had been observing her for a good long while. Nearly three quarters of an hour now. It was a good omen that she had managed to hold his interest for so long. “I’m a widow. I don’t require a chaperone.”
“My condolences on your loss, although it appears you’re out of mourning.”
She didn’t fail to notice the way his gaze dipped to the plumped up mounds of her bosom. They drew men much more than her face, which was lacking in beauty. But it served to her advantage, as a dipping gaze seldom noticed the shrewdness in her eyes. “It’s been two years now. We were exploring the jungles in India when he was attacked by a tiger. Terribly gruesome.” She visibly shuddered, ensuring he was distracted by the quivering flesh of her breasts. Men were so easy to manipulate. She should be ashamed, but she had learned long ago that one shouldn’t be regretful about what one was forced to do in order to survive. “I don’t wish to dwell on it.”
She took another sip of the excellent champagne, allowing her hand to tremble slightly. “I fear I need a distraction. It has been lovely visiting with you, but I should like to tour the gentlemen’s salon. As I understand it, after tonight, ladies will no longer be welcomed within its walls. I want to see what we are being denied.”
“I’ll accompany you.”
“Surely you have a wife somewhere who would not appreciate your attentions to me.”
“No wife. No betrothed, no paramour. I’ve no interest in attachments of a permanent nature.”
“I can’t blame you there. Having had one, I now find myself feeling quite the same way.”
He offered his arm. “Then shall we?”
She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and was greeted with firm muscle. A man who didn’t just lie about with no purpose. Her head barely reached his shoulder. He was a towering man, large and broad. But it was more than his physical traits that made him appear powerful. She suspected if his height did not extend past her knee, he would still dominate his surroundings. He seemed to dwarf everything around him. She didn’t know if she had ever met a man who commanded such supremacy.
As they strode—as this man could do nothing except stride with confidence—through the room, he acknowledged a few but was greeted with deference.
“Your Grace.”
“Avendale.”
“Duke.”
She’d been correct about his title. She wondered how many lesser ones he might possess, how much property. What was he worth? Based upon the excellent tailoring of his black swallowtail coat, trousers, and waistcoat, along with the jeweled pin nestled in his cravat, he was worth a princely sum.
They arrived in a room that was much darker than any of the others she’d viewed. The walls were papered in rich burgundy and forest green. The furniture matched. A massive fireplace dominated one of several sitting areas. Glass cabinets held an assortment of spirits. Liveried footmen served amber liquid.
She finished off her champagne and set the flute on the tray of a passing footman. The man beside her—Avendale—did the same. She didn’t like noticing that he seemed to belong here more than in any other place. That he was made of—and for—debauchery. He was comfortable with his surroundings, would flourish here as well as in the bedchamber. She was rather certain of it. Even in shadows, he would stand out, prowling toward her, conquering every aspect of the night, conquering her. She wouldn’t so much as whimper in protest.
“Would you care for something darker?” he asked.
He grinned wolfishly, and for a moment she feared he read all her thoughts. A shiver went through her before she grasped his meaning. He’d distracted her. Normally she kept her head around men, even handsome ones. Or perhaps she was giving him too much credit, had simply sipped the champagne far too quickly so that her mind had dulled for a moment.
“Is it allowed?” she asked innocently.
“It is. That’s Darling’s purpose here—to open up every manner of vice and decadence to the ladies. But wouldn’t it be far more enjoyable if it weren’t allowed?”
He held her gaze and she was no longer certain they were discussing liquor. Things not allowed generally were more enjoyable. How did he know that was what she preferred? What she thrived on? The forbidden was always more alluring. She suspected many of the ladies would soon wonder what all the fuss had been about now that they could walk through the doors whenever they chose.
“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” a deep voice asked.
Turning to the side, she came face to face with the man she’d earlier seen kissing the woman in the dance area. That woman was now beaming with happiness and inappropriately nestled against his side. But then Rose supposed in a place like this nothing was completely inappropriate. That was the entire point to it.
