The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

was speaking with animation, her hands moving.

      He moved closer, and as if she sensed his gaze, the stranger turned and looked at him. In answer, a lightening need struck his groin; a sharp sudden pain. She was an English rose among orchids, the sort of woman he had seen nothing of abroad. Her skin was pale, with roses blooming in her cheeks, and her eyes were a vivid beautiful blue, like the bluebells which bloomed in spring, in the woods at Pembroke Place.

      She was what he had longed for abroad and not even known he’d been lacking.

      His attention wholly captured, he felt desire slip into his blood as his groin grew heavy with hunger.

      This was what came from abstinence he supposed. He’d never had a fancy for fair, fey women before. He did now.

      She did not look the sort for a fling though, certainly not the she-wolf type who stalked the foreign fields. His mind began rattling through his guest list, but no name fit her, and her dull grey bonnet and shawl did not speak of affluence. Who was she?

      He smiled as he grew nearer, then realised he was staring and shifted his gaze to the others in the group. It was then he noticed Phillip as they turned to towards him. “My God.”

      “Your Grace.”

      “Phillip.” Lord, John hoped Phillip had not come here with a motive. John did not wish to hear oily grovelling from an old friend. His heart thumped in cold anger, not gladness. Then he looked at the blonde and his breath caught as recognition whispered in his head. Kate.

      Her gaze soaked him up, wide and bright, and then her eyelids fell and red roses coloured her cheeks.

      Katherine Spencer, Phillip’s shy little sister, full grown. Good God, she had blossomed. John felt his heartbeat stutter into warm longing again. Wanting Phillip’s little sister was not a good thing.

      John gritted his teeth, forced a smile and lifted his hand to shake Phillip’s. He was not looking at Katherine but he was thinking of her, trying to remember how old she would be now. She must be married. Shame.

      Or perhaps it was better she was, maybe she had tired of her husband already and she’d be tempted by a little dalliance after all. Better to play with a woman who had no need to be grasping, there would be no ties. “I did not expect to see you here,” John said to Phillip.

      “Our condolences, Your Grace.”

      John shrugged. Phillip knew the true nature of John’s volatile relationship with his grandfather; there was hardly any point in pretending to be sad. But the word “our” gave John the opportunity to turn to Katherine.

      A sharp pain pierced his chest like a stitch when he saw those blue eyes up close. Her turquoise gaze was framed by pale-brown lashes. Her beauty was delicate – subtle. He was unused to that, compared to his family.

      He had an urge to touch her face. He did not, but he did take her hand and lift it to his lips as she dropped a low curtsy.

      Her kid-leather gloves were warm from the heat of her skin beneath.

      He brushed a finger across her wrist accidentally and felt her shiver. She smelt of rosewater.

      She was blushing deeply when she straightened.

      When had he last known a woman who could blush?

      “Your Grace.”

      “Katherine.” He’d more often called her Kate when they’d been young but Katherine seemed to suit her so much more now. “You look well.” Her husband, whoever he was, was a lucky man. John doubted she was the sort to stray. A pity.

      With a gentle tug, she pulled her fingers free of his.

      “H… how are you?” she stuttered, her gaze descending to his cravat pin.

      “Well enough.” He could not take his eyes off her and it clearly made her feel uncomfortable. “A little dumbfounded by the speed of things, I suppose. I only returned to England a fortnight ago, my grandfather died that night.”

      Her gaze lifted momentarily and compassion burned there before it fell away again. “I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

      “Don’t be, he was old, he had to die eventually and I doubt he shall be much missed.”

      “Hear, hear,” Eleanor stated. “He was a bully, Mama always says so, and John shall make a far better duke.”

      “Tell me what you have been up to then,” John asked, only wishing to know if she was wed, but he threw a look at Phillip, extending the question to hide his interest.

      “Studying,” Phillip answered. “I’m a qualified barrister now.”

      John’s attention turned. He was so well trained to play ducal host it was instinctual. “Congratulations.” He met Phillip’s gaze. This must be Phillip’s reason for attending, to use their old friendship to increase his clientele. Everyone here had a reason. God, I have become a cynic.

      “My firm is Boscombe and Parkin.”

      And you hope I’ll use them so you’ll progress… Aloud John said, “Parkin? I have heard of them.”

      John had been close to Phillip long ago. Their friendship had made life bearable in John’s later childhood and youth, Phillip’s company had been the one concession allowed when John had visited his grandfather. Beyond their friendship, life had been all about learning discipline and developing the mind. “Do you live in town?”

      Phillip nodded. “Perhaps we could meet? I’ll give Finch my address.”

      John was not inclined to socialise with men who thought to gain something by it. He was tired to the bones of this ingratiating behaviour already and he had a lifetime of it to live. “Perhaps … ” John echoed with no commitment.

      “I’d like to hear your travelling tales,” Phillip continued, chatting as though their friendship had not ended seven years before.

      “I have thousands but I would not wish to bore you.” John’s gaze strayed to Kate again. “And you Katherine?”

      She reddened and opened her mouth as if to reply but said nothing.

      John felt like laughing, she looked so unsettled by him. Yet her discomfort gave him hope that his attraction might be reciprocated?

      “She’s been busy. Katherine has started a Sunday School in Ashford,” Mary answered for her.

      Katherine’s blush deepened.

      He was certain it was his presence which was making her colour up so beautifully. “That is noble of you, Katherine. Is there a husband who supports this venture?”

      Her cheeks flushed with even brighter colour. Then she said in a low voice, “I am not wed.” Her pitch said the idea was absurd.

      John felt a flare light inside him. Hope. But that was ridiculous, what it meant was she was innocent and untouchable. Hands off you villain. He felt like laughing again, at his own arrogant desire.

      Playing the gallant, he took her hand once more and pressed another kiss upon it. “More fool the men who have passed you by.”

      “She has had numerous offers. She turns them all away,” Phillip interjected, apparently oblivious to John’s flirtation.

      John did not think Katherine was so blind. Her eyes held his as he let her hand fall, full of questions.

      The girl was a mile beneath his rank. She would know there was nothing serious in it, which meant she was wondering why. “There is nothing wrong with being choosy, Katherine. I commend you.” He smiled, telling her without words she need not fear him.

      She smiled suddenly, in reply, and it glimmered in her azure-blue eyes.

      “Are you staying in town?” Mary asked.

      Katherine’s gaze swung to his sister and John