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CHAPTERONE
Regent’s Park, London
Spring, 1816
“If your intention in following me is to try to seduce me before fucking me, then I must inform you that you will not be successful in that endeavor. Your Grace.” The young woman added the last as an afterthought, and in a tone that implied dry humor rather than respect for the title.
Or perhaps, Alaric Montrose, the Duke of Melborne, pondered, that lack of respect was for the man rather than the title?
If he were being honest, then this woman’s comment, spoken in such a smoothly polite tone that reflected only the slightest trace of the attractive burr of her Devonshire home, had surprised him on several levels.
Primarily because he could never rememberanywoman refusing to be seduced by him in the whole of his thirty-three years, let alone before the two of them had been introduced or exchanged so much as a single word prior to that rebuff.
That this one did so in such a challenging manner, as if, unlike so many others, she held no fear of him personally nor of the ducal power he might invoke with a single lift of an eyebrow, was doubly intriguing.
The fact she had used such vulgar language in which to make her feelings known was deserving, in Alaric’s opinion, of a severe spanking to her perfectly rounded bottom. A punishment which he would dearly enjoy administering.
For now, he settled for raising that haughty ducal eyebrow and looking down his aristocratic nose at her. He coolly pointed out the obvious social gaffe. “You speak to me rather bluntly, madam, when we have never, to my knowledge, been introduced.”
Her smile was sardonic. “And yet you know exactly who I am.”
“Do I?”
“We both know that you do.” Her pale green gaze dared him to deny it.
Alaric realized the futility of attempting to do so, instead giving an acknowledging inclination of his head. “You are Miss Grace Sunderland, aged only one and twenty, and—”
“And you are the illustrious Alaric Montrose, the Duke of Melborne.” Her tone implied she did not find anything about him in the leastillustrious.
“I was going to say,” Alaric continued firmly, “that you should not be out and about without your lady’s maid.” A lady’s maid Alaric knew she didn’t have.
Grace Sunderland employed only a middle-aged woman who acted as both cook and housekeeper in her modest home. This woman arrived daily to Miss Sunderland’s house at seven o’clock each morning and left again at six o’clock every evening.
“I am accompanied by my dog.” She glanced down at the black-and-white terrier beside her.
The dog had been let off his lead for a run several minutes ago, but Alaric knew he never ventured far from his mistress’s side. No doubt such a small dog was cowed by the large horses and their riders passing on the bridle path close by.
The piebald animal was currently amusing himself by sniffing Alaric’s highly polished boots.
Contemplating lifting his legs and pissing against one of them, if Alaric was any judge of dogs. Which, owning two Irish wolfhounds of his own, he was. If Alaric showed the same disdain for a person as Grace Sunderland was currently showinghim, then Zeus and Cerberus wouldn’t hesitate in demonstrating their own feelings in the matter.
“A dog whose small stature renders him as being ineligible to act as a suitable chaperone,” Alaric stated.
She smiled. “Obviously, you are unfamiliar with this breed of terrier. I assure you, Finn is more than capable of chasing you down and ripping out the seat of your pantaloons in defense of me, if necessary.”
“You sound as if you speak from experience?”
“As it happens, I do.” Her smile widened. “Finn once took exception to the manner in which the local baker demanded payment of his monthly bill. The result was the ripped pantaloons I have described. Strangely, the baker always sent one of his underlings to my father’s vicarage following that incident.” She looked down fondly at the animal as she reattached the lead to his collar.
Alaric’s lids narrowed. “In what way did the baker demand payment of his bill?”
Her challenging gaze did not flinch to meet his. “In the usual manner men like to prey on a woman they believe to be their inferior and therefore vulnerable.”
A challenge Alaric took exception to, especially when every word she spoke confirmed she was not in the least vulnerable, despite what the baker might have thought. Nor did Alaric consider her his inferior.
“Contrary to your earlier accusation, I do not recall at any time voicing an interest in wishing to seduce or fuck you. To have spoken any words to you at all previous to this, in fact,” he added with a frown.
“You did not need to voice it when your actions speak for themselves.” The curl of her top lip showed her distaste for those actions.
