Her Muse, His Grace (Muses Book 4) Read online

  “You have met him?” Patience asked.

  “No, but I don’t see why that’s necessary. He is a duke. I am the daughter of one. No one is more suited than I.”

  “Yet, you wish to improve your dancing skills.”

  “Only at my mother’s insistence. I can assure you that once Roxburg and I meet and he learns of my connection, it won’t matter whether I dance or not.”

  She was probably correct. A lofty title usually married the daughter of a title just as lofty, or at least close. Lady Jillian might as well cry the banns right now.

  “What if he isn’t interested in pursuing the daughter of a peer? Why, he might not even be interested in pursuing a match at all.” Penelope grinned. “Who is to say that he isn’t already be married. His Grace has been gone for five years and could have married Barbados?”

  Lady Jillian’s eyes widened and her mouth popped open as if the thought had never occurred to her. Bianca lowered her head to hide her smile. Wouldn’t it be something if His Grace did return with a wife?

  Lady Jillian regained her composure and tilted her chin a little higher. “We would have learned by now if Roxburg was married. As he is returning, one can only assume it is to find a wife.” Lady Jillian insisted. “He is aware of his duty, and must have an heir and a spare.” Lady Jillian glanced from Penelope to Patience. “I assume that is why you are here. To set your cap on him too. It isn’t as if the two of you are fresh out of the schoolroom.”

  Bianca stiffened, waiting for a retort from either of the ladies in response to Lady Jillian’s insult.

  “Nobody knows for certain that he will return,” Lady Patience reminded her. “All we have is supposition and rumor.”

  “Of course he will. He must!” Lady Jillian practically looked down her nose at Felding’s sister.

  “It makes no difference.” Penelope shrugged. “I prefer to meet a gentleman before deciding whether I wish to set my cap upon him. He might turn out to be a horrible bore.”

  Patience laughed. “Or a tyrant without a sense of humor.”

  “So, you are not interested either?”

  “Like my sister, I’ve yet to meet His Grace. When one is going to be married for life, I’d like to think we would get on. Such a decision cannot be made about a complete stranger.”

  “But he is a duke.” It was as though Lady Jillian couldn’t believe that a title couldn’t fix any potential problem.

  “Which does not necessarily make him likeable,” Patience insisted.

  It was all Bianca could do not to laugh at the flabbergasted expression on Lady Jillian’s face.

  Chapter 6

  Mark stood at the window in sitting room of Lady Acker’s home on Henrietta Street, looking down on the gardens in the back of the house and the sitting area at the back of the school, just across the alley. It wasn’t much of an alley, rather narrow actually, and he had yet to see anyone ride through, but he hadn’t lived here all that long and it could be used regularly when he wasn’t about.

  “How are your lessons proceeding?” Samuel asked as he came into the room.

  “They haven’t begun.” Mark gestured to the papers on the table. “More ladies wish to take lessons than I have time for and I’m attempting to put together a schedule.”

  Sam pulled back in surprise. “I didn’t realize that dancing masters were in such high demand. How many ladies are being brought out this Season?”

  Mark scrubbed a hand over his face. “It isn’t just debutantes but ladies who have had a few Seasons already behind them.”

  “Shouldn’t they have engaged a dance master before now?” Then he grinned. “Or, maybe that’s the reason they haven’t landed a husband, because they can’t dance?”

  “I wish that were the case.” He took a drink of the brandy he’d been sipping before Samuel entered. “The sudden interest is because they all want to improve their skills before the Season opens in hopes of impressing Roxburg.” He grimaced. “I overheard several mothers telling their daughters that the afternoon would be spent practicing their singing so that they might impress the duke with their voice.” He shivered. “I hate musicales. They can practice all they wish but I will not be attending.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Oh, if only they knew the truth.” He crossed to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy.

  He shot a look at his friend. “Which they will not learn until the Season begins.”

  Sam held up his hands in defense. “I’m certainly not going to say anything. Revealing your presence in London reveals my own and I’m not ready for anyone to know I’m here either.”

  Mark studied him. “You haven’t even written your brother?”

  “Actually,” Sam looked down into his glass of brandy. “I believe I’ll travel to Yorkshire, so I can visit my family out of sight of the ton.” He took a drink and swallowed. “I have no liking for London or the gossip and I’d rather my family learn that I’ve arrived from me and not someone else. However, I will be at your side when the Season begins, offering whatever moral support you need.” He grinned and settled into a chair beside the fireplace. “As you are not in need of me now, and my brother is, I shall be traveling north. Spring will be upon us and the crops did not do well last year. I fear the family may be in a precarious financial position. Even if I don’t wish to live here doesn’t mean that I wish for Benjamin to fail his family or tenants.”

  Last year had been miserable for those on this side of the world. There was hardly ever any sun and the temperatures did not warm. It was a year that essentially was without summer. Many families felt the sting from lack of crops.

  As with Samuel, Mark would also like to visit with his sisters and see how they and their husbands fared, but as soon as he darkened their doorsteps, someone would report to someone that he’d arrived and it was more important that he remain his anonymity than engage in a family reunion.

  “Did you meet any potential candidates at least?” Samuel asked.

  His mind went immediately to Miss Bianca Valentine with her expressive pewter eyes and haunting music. “A few.” There was no need to tell Samuel that one particular miss was already at the top of his list for potential wives.

  Samuel twirled the brandy in this glass and studied Mark. “Are there any that were automatically disqualified or haven’t you had a chance to decide?”

  His mind conjured Lady Jillian Simpson. “One.” As soon as she announced they’d be a perfect match simply because of titles and families he’d crossed her off in his mind. She was certainly pretty enough, but was of the same mindset as half the lords and ladies in London. Was it so wrong to wish for something more from his marriage? Ladies Penelope and Patience were correct in that you couldn’t decide on a spouse simply because of connections, titles and rank.

  Mark wasn’t certain why those two had decided to engage his services and he was convinced that had not been their intention when they first entered the room. Was it because they wished to keep an eye on him with regard to Miss Valentine or were they suddenly interested in him?

  He shook his head and took a drink. They were there to watch over Miss Valentine and Mark could hardly blame them. He had practically kissed her right before the sisters walked in.

  “When do you leave for Yorkshire?”

  “Tomorrow, if you do not believe it will be too much of an inconvenience for you.”

  “Why should you be stuck in London when it’s not necessary? Go enjoy your family.”

  “Have you hired an investigator yet?”

  Blast. He’d forgotten that he intended on researching each of the ladies who he found an attraction. “No, would it be possible for you to see to that matter before you leave?” He hated to ask Samuel to delay his travels, but an investigator was necessary before the Season began. He knew as well as anyone that people hid a number of sins from Society, which he needed to know before he made an offer for any lady. Not that he had anything to hide, other than his current identify, but he want
ed no surprises after his betrothal.

  “I’ll see to it.” Samuel stood and drained the brandy from his glass.

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded and left the room, and Mark returned to the papers spread out on the table then glanced back to the window. It was a pleasant day, for England at least, and he hated being cooped up inside when it wasn’t necessary. Mark checked the trees. There was little wind so it should not disturb his papers and maybe feeling the sun on his shoulders would boost his spirit, though the only thing that could really do that was boarding a ship back to Barbados. As that was impossible, he gathered his notes and carried them outside to the small table after requesting a pot of tea and biscuits.

  The blue sky and nearly absent breeze was deceiving. While it might be pleasant by London standards, especially this time of year, he was chilled. Yet, he didn’t want to be inside. He was used to spending hours out of doors. But, that was in the Caribbean, not in bloody London at the beginning of March.

  Mark glanced down at the stack of papers, overwhelmed by the sheer number of students who had arrived today.

  “Bloody hell, I should’ve just stayed in Barbados, married an islander and forgot my duty.” That would have been far easier than trying to settle upon a lady in five weeks, which was easier than facing the ton as a bachelor with no betrothal. Just the thought of the attention he’d received nearly gave him hives and he picked up the documents, determined to narrow his list of candidates and see a decision made in the amount of time he’d allotted himself.

  Voices from the back of the school drew his attention. Lady Acker and Miss Valentine stepped outside and walked to a sitting area. Lady Acker settled beneath the shade of a tree, but Miss Valentine opted for the sun. Her auburn hair shined and the very light breeze picked up a few of her curls and they danced on the wind before settling against the nape of her neck.

  The ladies laughed and he wished he were part of their conversation, but he hadn’t been invited to join them. He wasn’t even sure they even saw him sitting here.

  Who was Miss Valentine, really, and why was he drawn to her? They’d barely spoken in depth about anything, yet, she was perfect in his arms. And if the Johansen ladies had not arrived when they had, he’d now know what it was like to kiss her. He’d not been pulled to kiss a lady with such urgency in a very long time, nor had anyone’s touch warmed him, taking the chill from his bones.

  But, one did not decide upon a wife after a few brief meetings.

  A tea service was delivered to the ladies and Lady Acker poured. Her eyes lifted and met his before she smiled. “Mr. East,” she called. “Please, join us.”

  * * *

  Mr. East? Bianca turned in her seat to find him sitting on a small terrace at the back of the house across the narrow alley. Had he been there when they came out?

  There were papers on his table and a pot of tea. He must have been working and they had disturbed him.

  “Thank you.” He placed his papers beneath a tray, or at least that is what it appeared to be from this distance, then lifted his cup and crossed the alley to join them.

  “Are you done with lessons for the day, Lady Acker?” he asked after taking a seat.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Miss Valentine and I were just discussing the music.”

  Mark straightened. “Perhaps I shouldn’t intrude.”

  “Nonsense. There’s little to discuss and it is too fine a day to be inside.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Will you be returning to Barbados after the Season?” Lady Acker asked. “Or will you now be making your home in England?”

  Bianca watched him from beneath her eyelashes as she took a sip of tea. What was it about Mr. East that fascinated her so? He was handsome, but so were a number of men. Yet, his brown eyes shifted with moods. Darkening while they danced, warming when he leaned in before they were interrupted by Felding’s sisters. Cold and hard a few times when interviewing potential students, but now they were light and warm.

  His dark hair lifted and fell with the slight breeze and he brushed it from his forehead and leaned back, his wide shoulders hiding the back of the chair.

  “I hope to return often, but will be required to live England.”

  “What is it like?” Bianca blurted out, then bit her lip. Goodness, what had come over her and this need to know more about Mr. East? “I’ve known only England,” she quickly added. “And have read little about the rest of the world.”

  “Oh, you must travel if you are ever given the opportunity,” Lady Acker insisted. “I would love to return to Italy for a visit.”

  “Italy?” Mr. East asked.

  A smile blossomed on Lady Acker’s face. “It is where I used to live and dance, before my mother returned to England with my sisters and me.”

  Bianca didn’t want to know about Italy but of Barbados and what Mr. East’s home was like.

  He turned to her. “Where were you raised, Miss Valentine?”

  “Hampshire,” she answered. At least for the most part that was true, though he didn’t need to know that the first two years of her life were spent not far from here in Seven Dials.

  “Are your parents in London as well?”

  Her stomach clenched. She should be used to the story by now. It’s the one she and her siblings had always told, but lying to Mr. East did not set well. Still, she couldn’t very well tell him nor Lady Acker the truth. “My parents passed away when I was a child.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She simply nodded and wasn’t about to tell him anything more. Even though this was the first time she’d felt uncomfortable with the story, it wasn’t only her secret, but one belonging to her entire family. “You have not told me about Barbados,” she reminded him as she set her teacup on the table.

  Mr. East sighed and he gently smiled as if thinking of fond memories. “The weather is nearly perfection, all of the time, the sands of the beach are warm and the sky, a brilliant blue.”

  There was longing in his voice. “You miss it.”

  Their eyes met. “Yes, very much.”

  “Were you also a dancing master there?”

  “Yes. Though I spent a good deal of my time overseeing a sugar plantation.”

  Lady Acker straightened and her eyebrows drew together over, as if confused. “You did not mention that.”

  Mr. East laughed. “There is not as much of a demand for dancing masters in Barbados as there apparently is here. And, I enjoy working the land as much as I enjoy a waltz.”

  “What brought you back to England?” Bianca asked. If she lived somewhere that was always warm and sounded beautiful, she wasn’t so certain she’d leave it for London.

  He looked down as the emotions shifted on his face and his jaw tightened. Oh dear, perhaps she shouldn’t have pried.

  “My uncle passed away, leaving an inheritance that I must claim. I also have two sisters living in England. I have not seen them in three years. Not since they returned to England and married.”

  Bianca frowned. “I don’t think I could go that long without seeing my siblings. It’s bad enough that my brothers rarely come home but a few times a year.” Not to mention Bertram, whom she’d never see again. There wasn’t even a grave site she could visit unless she wanted to travel to the Netherlands.

  “Do you have a number of siblings, Miss Valentine?” Mr. East inquired.

  “I am one of ten.” She’d already told him of Bertram.

  “You are close?”

  “Yes.” She smiled with affection. “Despite the distance of some.”

  “And you’ve only traveled between your home and London?”

  Why was he asking her so many questions? She’d much rather discuss him and his life in Barbados. “I traveled once, I just don’t recall the passage or my earlier home.”

  He leaned forward as interest light in his eyes. “Where?”

  “I was born in India. We returned to England shortly before my third bir
thday.”

  Mr. East raised an eyebrow as if surprised. “Why India? Was your father in the military or with the East India Company?”

  Oh, she hated having to answer so many questions when they were all fictional answers that had been prepared long ago so that nobody knew the truth. To refuse to answer would raise suspicion, but this is the first time she’d ever been uncomfortable telling these lies. “My father was a missionary.”

  “A noble profession.” Mr. East nodded as if he approved. Not that it mattered if he did or not, yet Bianca wished she was telling the truth and that she did have his approval. If only that was what her life had been, then she’d not need to shy away from forming an attachment to anyone. But as it was not the case, she swallowed her desire for more, even though this is the first time she truly regretted that her past was not the fictional story she wove.

  “There was an uprising.” She needed to finish the story, as they always did.

  Mr. East frowned and Bianca looked down into the cup of tea she was holding. “My mother and father were killed.” She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “My siblings and I returned to England to be raised by my uncle, Vicar Grant.”

  She glanced up to find him watching her with sympathy. Oh, that would not do at all. “I’ve been blessed, Mr. East, to have survived and I have been surrounded by family.”

  He nodded after a moment as if realizing that her past was not something she wished to discuss further. “Do you wish to travel again one day, Miss Valentine?”

  “Yes.” She nearly added that she’d wish he’d take her to Barbados. Heat stole into her cheeks at the very idea.

  “Anywhere in particular?” He smiled as if interested in what she might say when she knew he was only being polite.

  “Anywhere, actually. I think it would be quite exciting seeing someplace outside of England.”

  He smiled and those brown eyes warmed, as if her answer pleased him, though she couldn’t imagine why.

  “Excuse me, Lady Acker.”

  Bianca turned to find a young woman she’d only glimpsed a few times within the school standing in the doorway. Bianca assumed she was a maid. “There are two gentlemen asking for Miss Valentine.” She glanced at Bianca. “They said they are her brothers.”