One Dance with a Duke (Stud Club #1)

At the curate’s direction, they exchanged simple gold bands. All his aunt’s pieces were at Braxton Hall; she’d have her selection of jeweled rings there. Her fingers were chilled, and irrational anger spiked through him. Why was she cold? Hadn’t the modiste sent gloves?

“I pronounce you man and wife.”

There, it was done.

He turned to his bride, looking her in the eye for the first time since the ceremony had begun. And he promptly kicked himself, because this would have been far more pleasant if he’d been looking at her the whole time. Her eyes were really quite lovely—large, intelligent, expressive. A patient, sensible shade of blue.

He very much wanted to kiss her now.

And as if she’d heard the thought—God, he hoped he hadn’t said it aloud—she gave a tiny shake of her head and whispered, “Not yet.”

With a plunk, the curate laid open the parish register on a side table and thumbed to the appropriate page. Once their names and the date had been recorded, Spencer took up the quill and signed his name on the line. His was a long name; it took a while. After he’d finished, he dipped the quill again before passing it to Amelia.

She paused, peering down at the register.

As the moment stretched, Spencer’s heart gave an odd kick. Oh, come along.

Before she could lay pen to parchment, a commotion in the hallway disrupted the scene. Julian Bellamy stormed into the parlor, followed by Ashworth. Spencer groaned as the two made straight for him.

“What the devil do you mean by this?” Bellamy demanded.

“I mean to be married.”

“I know that much, you despicable blackguard.” Sneering, Bellamy shoved a rectangle of paper in Spencer’s face. “This. What do you mean by this?”

It was the bank draft he’d sent over yesterday morning, as promised. “It’s just as I said. I’m offering Lady Lily compensation in exchange for her brother’s token.”

“In the amount of twenty thousand pounds?”

Beside him, Amelia gasped.

“Twenty thousand pounds,” Ashworth said. “There’s no racehorse in the world worth that, much less one retired to stud.”

“I didn’t base my offer on the market value of the horse. I offered what the token is worth to me.” Spencer turned to Bellamy. “And it’s Lady Lily’s to accept or decline. Not yours.”

The slender, dark-haired woman stepped forward. “I’m very grateful, Your Grace, but you know I cannot accept.”

“If you find my offer insufficient, we can discuss more generous—”

“It’s not that,” Lily said. “Your offer is beyond generous. It’s charity, and I cannot accept it in good conscience.”

Bellamy cut in. “She cannot accept it because Leo’s token is gone.”

“Gone?” Amelia said. “Gone where?”

“Precisely what I’d like to know.” Bellamy shot Spencer a murderous look. “Care to tell us, Morland?”

“How should I know where it’s gone? Wasn’t it with Harcliffe’s belongings?”

Ashworth shook his head. “We’ve gone through everything, twice. It wasn’t on his body, either. Must have been stripped by his attackers.”

“Simple robbery, then,” Spencer said. “Or perhaps he’d already lost it in a wager.”

“Never,” Bellamy said. “Leo would never have risked that token, and you know it. You know you had no other way of getting it from him.”

“What the hell are you suggesting?” A cold, leaden weight settled in Spencer’s gut. “Surely you don’t mean to suggest I had some hand in Harcliffe’s death?”

Bellamy only raised his eyebrows.

“Surely you don’t mean to suggest it,” Spencer repeated coolly, “because if you did slander my character in such an outrageous, unfounded manner, I would have to demand satisfaction.”

“So you can get my token, too? Pry it from my cold, dead hands?”

Amelia wedged herself between them. “Why are the two of you so determined to kill one another? Mr. Bellamy, with all due respect and sympathy—your charges make no sense. If His Grace already had possession of this token, why on earth would he offer Lily twenty thousand pounds for it?”

Fortunately someone in the room had some sense. And more fortunate still, she was the one he was marrying.

“Guilt. Blood money, to ease his conscience.” Bellamy gave him a cold stare. “I’ve remembered something, Morland. You were there in the card room the other night, when Leo and I made plans to attend the boxing match.”

Was he? Spencer supposed he could have been, but he certainly hadn’t been paying attention to Harcliffe and Bellamy. His sole focus had been winning Faraday’s token. “What if I were? So were a dozen other gentlemen.”

“None of them had a reason to kill Leo. You’ve destroyed fortunes in pursuit of Osiris already. Why should I believe you’d stop at violence? You knew exactly where Leo was going to be that night. You knew I was meant to be with him. Were you hoping to get us both in one blow?”