Ana Maria focused on keeping her posture straight and her expression cool, as though she had not just spoken with the person whose very existence was making her feel all sorts of ways all at the same time.
Perhaps her efforts would mean that other ladies saw Nash as a viable suitor, not an enormous grunting lummox who stood in the corner at parties and glowered.
And if it then meant he asked one of those now-appreciative ladies to marry him? She’d have to be pleased at the outcome, because it would mean someone would be happy.
Just not her.
“Ana Maria!”
She turned as she heard her name called, her face breaking out into an enormous smile when she saw who it was—her sister-in-law, formerly Miss Ivy, who still owned the club named after her. Now she was Mrs. Sebastian de Silva, and she and Ana Maria’s brother lived in a house down the street from the club, while Ivy’s sister Octavia had taken over all the rooms in the back of the club.
“I didn’t know you would be here,” Ana Maria said, clasping both Ivy’s hands in hers. “Is Sebastian here, too?”
Ivy shook her head. “No, he is managing the club this evening. Octavia is off doing something highly secretive,” she said, casting her gaze upward in aggravation, “and I came because Lady Carlyle is a very good customer, and she invited me. I did not want to refuse, especially since I was certain I would see you.”
“Let’s go sit on the terrace for a moment. It has been far too long since we’ve seen one another.” Because she and Ana Maria’s brother were spending most of their time alone together lately, leaving Octavia to manage the club and Sebastian’s dogs.
Ivy nodded, taking Ana Maria’s arm in hers. The two ladies made their way through the crowd to the double doors that were flung open to let in a modicum of a breeze.
“Over there,” Ana Maria said, nodding toward a bench at the far end of the terrace.
The night air was refreshing, and Ana Maria took a few great gulps of it, already feeling more relaxed.
Would she ever feel entirely comfortable in a room filled with Society’s finest people?
She doubted it. Especially since she didn’t particularly want to be in a room with Society’s finest people—she’d far rather go to a club such as Miss Ivy’s, which admitted anybody, as long as they had money to gamble with. Or to fabric shops where she could meet people who were equally passionate about warp and weft.
“I understand you and Octavia have been spending time together,” Ivy said as she sat down, smoothing her skirts over her lap. “I don’t think she would admit it, but I believe Octavia has been lonely since Sebastian and I set up our own household.”
Ana Maria chuckled. “Your sister is keeping me from being lonely as well. Now that Sebastian has gone, and everything has changed.” And she did still have friends from her former life, but she and her friends were both acutely aware that they now inhabited different worlds. She couldn’t seriously complain to Jane or any of the other household workers about her discomfort at attending parties; they would think she was being spoiled. Which she supposed she would be. But it wasn’t as though she could just decide to return to her old life, so this new life had to be improved somehow.
Which brought her to her plan.
“Your sister and I have spent some time together visiting fabric houses. I believe she plans to redecorate the club?”
Ivy nodded. “I think it’s a good thing—it will keep her from mischief. Hopefully,” she added, with a sigh that indicated an older sister’s long-suffering. “She said you were excellent at it, that she could rely entirely on your taste.”
Ana Maria felt a warmth spread through her at the compliment. “That is good to hear. Because I wish to do the same for other places. Institutions like the Society for Poor and Unfortunate Children. I know it might seem frivolous to focus on redecorating those places, when they want food and shelter, but it is my belief that people will respond more to a place that appears to be well kept, and will want to donate more than if the house they lived in was shabby and poorly maintained.” She’d also ensure that Thaddeus donate some of his vast ducal wealth to those places, but she didn’t need to share that with Ivy at this moment. Since Thaddeus didn’t know yet.
“You are correct,” Ivy said in an enthusiastic tone. “When I opened the club, not only did I have to provide an excellent gaming experience, I had to make sure my customers got a certain feeling from being there. It wasn’t enough just to have tables and dealers and good play. I took pains with the interior design, since Miss Ivy’s was a different experience than other clubs. And you wish me to let Sebastian know?”
Ana Maria blinked in surprise. “Oh, I can tell him myself. I wanted to tell you first, as a businesswoman, to see if you thought it made sense.”
“Will you charge the institutions for your services, then?” Ivy asked with a confused expression.
“No, but I will present those places as proof that I can do the work. And, eventually, I hope that some people who can actually afford it will hire me.”
Ivy grinned. “You’d better be careful, that sounds perilously close to being a lady who works. I thought you fancy aristocrats weren’t supposed to do anything so demeaning.”
Ana Maria nudged Ivy in the shoulder. “You’re a fancy aristocrat, aren’t you?”
Ivy shook her head vigorously. “Not anymore, not since I had the audacity to open a gambling house and marry an illegitimate man. I far prefer this life, to be honest.”
Ana Maria rolled her eyes. “I can tell that, anybody can tell that. I thought that since you seemed to take to it so well, and it doesn’t seem as though Octavia has suffered, I should try. I don’t think the life of a traditional aristocratic lady is for me.”
“Marriage, children, good works?” Ivy asked in a gentle tone. “Do you not wish for any of those?”
Ana Maria’s chest felt tight. “I do want those things.” She thought of all the flowers in her salon, flowers from gentlemen who didn’t know her. Didn’t want to know her. But they did want to know her dowry. “But I can’t see how, not in my current situation. I don’t want a gentleman who wouldn’t be proud of who I was before, and none of the gentlemen I have met, or will meet, would be anything but horrified at what I used to do.” Except Nash, of course. Because he’d seen it all, and she knew he wouldn’t judge her. If anything, he’d likely respect her more because she’d been more than a decorative object.
Ivy arched her brow. “I think you’re not meeting the right kind of gentlemen. Perhaps you should spend more time at Miss Ivy’s?”
Ana Maria laughed. “Is this your not-so-subtle way to get me to come lose money at your establishment? You know I would do that anyway.”
Ivy shrugged. “But if you come with the purpose of losing money and meeting someone who might pique your interest, it’s two goals you would accomplish instead of one.”
“Very efficient of you,” Ana Maria remarked.
Ivy rose, gesturing for Ana Maria to stay seated. “I have to go, your brother is at home with just the dogs for company.” She winked. “And I find I miss him.”
Ana Maria rolled her eyes. “People in love are so dull. Always talking about their love, thinking about their love, being with their love—”
“Just wait,” Ivy warned. “It will happen to you. And you’ll wonder how you ever breathed without the other person.”
She waved goodbye, as though she hadn’t just sent Ana Maria into a flurry of confused thoughts, then set off through the doors and back onto the dance floor, making her way toward the front of the house.
Ana Maria watched her go, longing warring with worry as she pondered Ivy’s words. You’ll wonder how you ever breathed without the other person.
She already spent far more time than she should thinking about Nash. If he weren’t in her life—when he was married to some Society lady who wanted to be a Society lady—would she miss him?
The sharp ache in her heart answered her question.
She wasn’t in the ballroom. The candles were just as bright, the music just as lively, the refreshments just as delicious.
But everything seemed dimmed.
He took one more thorough look, meeting a few people’s gazes, their smiles changing as they saw his glower. Good. Fewer people to talk to.
Though that was the direct opposite of what he should be doing here.
“Duke!” His grandmother rapped on the floor with her cane, as though making certain he heard her.
He not only heard her, he felt her. Every time he thought about what his blackguard cousin might do to his half siblings. Every time he walked through the mansion—his mansion, even though it still felt odd to claim it—he felt as though there was a second duke there, one who was cruel and unforgiving and violent. The past of his father and the future of his cousin, if he didn’t do anything to stop it. Him, if he allowed himself to feel.
“Yes, Your Grace?” he said, turning to look at her. Forcing himself not to fold his arms over his chest. He knew that position was deliberately aggressive, he’d used it for that very effect many times in the past, and he did not want to appear that way in front of his grandmother. Not that she would be intimidated if he did—the only thing that seemed to rattle her was when he appeared without a shirt.
Good information to have, should his goal ever be to thoroughly befuddle his grandmother.
“You should be dancing.” She gestured toward the dance floor with her cane. “You’re just standing there, not talking to anyone, not asking anyone to dance.”
“I asked Lady Ana Maria to dance!” he retorted.
She gave a derisive snort. “The one lady you refuse to even consider marrying. You’ll forgive me if I don’t think that should be taken into consideration.” She rose from her chair, stepping close to him. “Do you want your cousin to inherit?” She thumped her cane on the floor. “You need to take this seriously, Duke.”
“I’m not that old,” he grumbled.
“Old enough to father a child,” she retorted. “The sooner you do that, the sooner all of us who know what could happen can breathe comfortably.”
His own breath felt tight, as though his chest—his responsibilities—were squeezing in on him.
He wished, not for the first time, not for the hundredth time, that someone else, anyone else, had been in line to inherit the title.
If he had just been plain Nash. Not even a “Mr.” starting his name. He could live his life as he chose. He wouldn’t have to funnel his anger into street fights. He could be with the people whom he most enjoyed—people who worked hard, drank hard, lived hard.
Of course, a voice reminded him, those people also don’t have a choice about how they live. Many of them are poor and have to work even if they are in ill health.
He scowled.
“It’s not the worst thing that could happen to you,” his grandmother said, reacting to his expression. “The worst thing would be to die knowing you are allowing people you care about to suffer. I will be gone by then, but what about the other people in the family?”
“I don’t suppose we could persuade my cousin not to be violent?” he said.
She clamped her lips together and glared at him.
“Right. If you will excuse me, I need to—” He walked off without finishing his sentence, desperate to get out of the crowded room filled with people he knew he wouldn’t like. And who wouldn’t like him.
Not that he’d give them a chance.
He was able to take a deep breath as soon as he saw her. She was seated on a terrace bench, the farthest one from the door, looking as though her thoughts were entirely elsewhere.
Was she thinking of him?
She shouldn’t be. She should be thinking of anybody else, not surly men who kissed her passionately in one moment, told her it was an enormous mistake the next.
God, but she looked beautiful. Her dark hair was swept up into some complicated style, with some sort of spangly ribbon intertwined throughout. She wore a gold-and-white gown with enormous skirts that spilled out onto the stone of the terrace. Her gloves were white, while a small pendant hung at her throat.
Her skin gleamed in the moonlight. Her dark eyes were luminous in her face, those perfect lips tilting into a slight smile.
He hoped she was thinking of him. Even though he didn’t.
She turned her head toward him, as though she was as aware of his presence as he was of hers. Her smile broadened, and she patted the bench beside her. “Come,” she said.
He strode toward her, remembering the last time they were on a terrace together. “Terrace shenanigans,” he murmured.
A terrace would be awfully uncomfortable for an intimate moment, and yet it was staged perfectly for one: darkness surrounding them, the light from the ballroom spilling out in golden beams, the faint whisper of the trees as the wind stirred them.
Her, on her knees on the bench, holding on to the wall of the terrace. Him behind her, her skirts flipped up to reveal her shapely arse. Him grasping her around the waist as he thrust slowly into her soft warmth.
Damn.
He should not be thinking about that. This was Ana Maria, the one woman he could never desire in that way.
Although he was coming to realize that there might not be another woman he would ever desire that way.
“Nash?” she said in a questioning tone as he sat down at the edge of the bench. Nearly falling off, since it was a narrow bench, and he didn’t want to risk his body touching hers.
“Why are you out here hiding?” He spoke abruptly, but he knew she wouldn’t take offense. One of the few women who wouldn’t.
Scratch that. The only woman who wouldn’t.
“I’m not hiding, I’m—” she began, then nodded her head. “I’m hiding,” she admitted. “I came out for a chat with Ivy, but she had to leave. I only have two dances claimed thus far—yours and Lord Brunley’s—and honestly I don’t feel like dancing at all, so I guess I am staying out here to avoid any more dances.”
She paused. “What are you doing out here?”
Looking for you.
“Shouldn’t you be inside charming all the ladies who might marry you?” Did he imagine her aggrieved tone?
“I don’t think any of them want to. Except for perhaps Lady Felicity, and I’m fairly certain she’s thinking how she can successfully avoid me after we’re married.” Which would suit him, of course, but it did not appeal at all.
“Oh,” she said in a faint tone. “So it’s to be Lady Felicity?” She picked her dance card up and rubbed where he had written his name. “I don’t want to make things more complicated—you don’t have to dance with me.”
He reached out to grasp her wrist, stilling her hand. “Stop. I want to dance with you.” He was speaking the absolute truth, wasn’t he?
Or not. The absolute truth would be that there was so much more he wanted to do with her. Things that involved her mouth, his body, her hands, his tongue.
And now his cock was stiffening in his trousers, and he didn’t want to stand up, but sitting next to her only meant the problem would grow. So to speak.
She nodded in agreement, but her mouth was pressed together as if she was unhappy.
He wanted to make her happy.
No, Goddamn it, he didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Well,” he said after a moment. “I—my grandmother demands, and I agree with her. I will see you for our dance.”
He rose, nodded briefly, then made his way back to the ballroom, intent on doing anything but the one thing he wanted to most, which was stay with her.