Page 11 of The Duke of a Thousand Desires

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In Simon’sadmittedly biased view there was only one honorable answer to his dilemma. It wasn’t the appropriate time for a tell-all. None of the parties involved in the outcome looked in any mood to listen to his explanation, which he had no intention of delivering in a public forum.

A rough voice growled in his face. “What are you doing with my sister?”

“Control, Boscastle,” he said below his breath.

“Control, my arse.”

It was disconcerting, to say the least, to have moments ago come to the rescue of a desirable woman only to confront her hostile male counterpart. Rhys and Ravenna might not be identical. They looked alike enough, however, that even a casual observer would recognize their relationship. Thankfully, though, Ravenna did not boast her brother’s square jaw and broad physique.

There was no softness in Rhys’ face whatsoever. No suggestion of his friendship with Simon and bond of boyhood camaraderie. “Well, answer me,” Rhys said in a clipped voice. “What have you done, Rochecliffe?”

“Your sister is fine,” he said carefully. “Shall we discuss this inside the house?”

Silence greeted his suggestion. A well-dressed blond gentleman had sliced through the crowd. His natural insouciance identified him at once as the party’s host and once-renowned scoundrel.

When Grayson Boscastle, the fifth Marquess of Sedgecroft, stepped onstage, he was guaranteed the complete attention of his audience.

“Good evening, Rochecliffe,” he said with his usual geniality. “Ravenna.”

“What do you make of this, my lord?” another gentleman asked the marquess from the edge of the crowd.

Grayson looked down his aquiline nose. “I don’t make anything of it at all. Nothing is ever as it appears. Do let us return to the ball. I detect a shower in the air. Rain is ruinous to fine clothes.”

Simon glanced up involuntarily. Was there a cloud in the sky? There was if the marquess decreed so. In fact, if Simon listened closely he could hear rain plopping on the leaves. Few men were bold enough to gainsay the gregarious marquess, no matter what evidence said to the contrary.

Grayson’s sang-froid was so reassuring that Simon could have forgotten someone had just taken a shot at him. Of course only he and Ravenna knew otherwise.

Just as he knew the evening’s true entertainment had not even begun. Enrapt spectators observed their every twitch. Had it been otherwise he might have asked her again for that kiss. Never had a woman’s mouth invited him more. And never had opportunity presented itself at such an inopportune moment. He needed to refine the plan that was forming in his mind. One that included a lot of kissing.

Jane, the Marchionness of Sedgecroft, had arrived on the scene with a small contingent of servants. It was obvious she had been called in to reinforce her husband. She cast Simon and Ravenna a mistrustful look and then concentrated her efforts on coaxing the lingering curious to return to the ballroom.

“Grayson has outdone himself with this affair,” she chattered, dragging two guests away by the arm. “The Tapestry Room is open for public viewing. We have recently acquired some priceless Flemish pieces. Seats are being filled at this moment for a splendid play with the original Drury Lane cast. And, keep it a secret, dear ones, but I’ve planned a breakfast surprise to end all surprises. It will occur at approximately -- well, whenever breakfast is.”

Grayson elevated his brow. “Do we have to wait until breakfast for this wondrous event?”

“Darling,” she said with a blithe smile. “It’s such a marvelous surprise I don’t dare speak of it lest I spoil the suspense. I shall only say it will be a dream come true.”

“For me?” he asked softly. “Rowan and little Belinda have been known to sleep past breakfast.”

Husband and wife shared a potent look that even Simon in his flummoxed state could not misinterpret. He knew that Rowan and Belinda were the couple’s beloved children. He also knew who and what his dream-come-true would be. He had dreamt of Ravenna. Often and in graphic, aching detail. He’d often envisioned them together and, well, not like this. Indeed, he’d held her delectable body only once before tonight.

At last, with no evident controversy to enjoy, the gathering dispersed. Jane sent off her guests with more promises of entertainment to fulfill than Scheherazade. Yet she looked entirely unruffled as she squeezed between Rhys and Simon to attach herself to Ravenna. “I will escort her back to the house and do my part. Gentleman, I leave you to settle this imbroglio with as much good sense as you can manage.”

With that she swept Ravenna away as if wingborne.

Neither lady glanced back at Simon. He wanted to follow to reassure himself that Ravenna had recovered. His immediate priority, however, was to search the gardens for any personal articles his assailant might have dropped during his flight.

Instead, he discovered himself the subject of Grayson’s unwavering scrutiny. The role of host had been discarded as that of guardian to his unruly family emerged. Simon was no coward. He hadn’t thought twice about taking a bullet for Ravenna.

This challenge required deeper consideration.

“There will be consequences,” Grayson said in a strained voice.

“I accept that,” he said. “But believe me when I state that what happened was beyond my control. There are other forces at play. All is not what it seems, as you and Heath have both remarked tonight.”

Rhys broke in. “I insist on being included in this conversation.”