~ The Phoenix ~

by

Maria Desrosiers

Seeing the Duke’s desperation to take his leave, Ava’s impish nature took hold. She smiled. “No, Your Grace, I just arrived and I so wished for you to take me for a spin around the dance floor. Look, my dance card is empty. Could you, please?” She grabbed his arm and rested her powdered head against his upper arm. The solid strength surprised her and she fought the urge to tighten her grip. “I would be ever so grateful.”

Pleased, Mathew nodded his approval.

The Duke forced a smile. A deep dimple in his right cheek drew her gaze. The man was handsome, she’d give him that. “It would be a pleasure, Lady?”

“Aveline.” She giggled and snorted loud. “You may call me Ava. That’s what my friends and family call me.”

He nodded, wrapped his warm fingers around her hand, and led Ava into the next round of dancing, making sure to keep her at a more than respectable distance. “Your brother didn’t mention you were so... um... so unique.”

She grinned. “I can’t help how terribly beautiful I am. My brother was sparing you the shock of it.”

The Duke’s face reddened and he stumbled. “Yes, that’s it.”

She rubbed her finger against his strong tension filled shoulder. “You’re such a handsome man. I wouldn’t mind if you courted me at all.” And he was very handsome, with a strong jaw and impeccable black, curly hair tied at the back of his neck. Pleasant warmth seeped through his jacket and the material of her glove into her flesh. Shaken, she pointed across the room. “Oh, look at Lady Millicent, she’s standing all alone in the corner.” She stared at the Duke. “You should ask her to dance. She’s quite nice and is rather intelligent. Half the time I have no clue what she’s talking about.”

“I still have to see Lord Trenton.” He brought her expertly through the dance steps and ignored her attempt at matchmaking.

Ava stepped on his feet several times on purpose. Why did she have to always act impulsively? The more she felt his touch, the more she looked at him, the more she cursed herself a fool. “I’m sorry for stepping on your foot. Did I hurt you? I can be quite clumsy. I was born with two left feet. Well, not literally but figuratively speaking.”

He was tall, well over six feet. Aveline was a tall woman herself but at five ten she had to look up at the Duke, and suddenly, she found it very disconcerting the way he studied her. She leaned closer. “Is there something amiss? Did my earbob come loose?”

He smiled suddenly. “Yes, I believe you’ll do.”

“What do you mean I’ll do?” She shifted uncomfortably. “If you’re suggesting a tryst, Your Grace, I would never.”

“No, quite the contrary. I’m thinking you’d make the perfect wife.”

Ava’s mouth dropped open. Did the Duke just say what she thought he had? “Pardon?” She leaned closer. “I believe I heard you quite wrong, Your Grace.”

“Come now, the prospect of being a Duchess should be pleasing.”

The music ended and shocked by the turn of events, Ava wanted to swoon and then thought it a good idea. He surely wouldn’t desire someone with such a weak constitution. “Did I mention I swoon quite easily?” She gasped, fanning herself fast, rolled her eyes up into her head and let herself fall.

Amazingly, he caught her before she hit the floor, hefting her into his strong arms like she weighed nothing more than a small child. At that moment she was impressed by his strength. Not many men could carry her so effortlessly.

Her mind raced for ways to escape him as he carried her out of the ballroom, afraid to open her eyes.

Mathew caught him. “What happened to Ava?”

“She’s in shock.” The Duke’s voice crisp and all business. “Come, we have much to discuss.”

The Duke set her gently down on a settee. “Does your sister always swoon so?”

She moaned and fluttered her eyes, and hoped that he would leave soon and forget about his silly notion.

“I’m afraid she swoons quite often.” Her brother pinched her upper arm hard, to her dismay. She bit back a yelp and inwardly cursed him.

“Get some water.” The Duke sounded irritated.

When he tapped her on the cheek, Ava groaned and slowly opened her eyes. She theatrically placed the back of her hand over her forehead. “My head, did I hit it?”

“No, you never reached the floor.” The Duke grabbed the cup of water from her brother, lifted her head and pressed it to her lips. “Drink and you’ll feel better in a minute.”

As she drank the cool liquid, Ava swallowed as much air as she could. “Mathew, what have you done?” Ava said and fought the out of fashion farthingale as she tried to sit up, using the edge of the settee to drag herself into a sitting position. The darn hoop, at the best of times a nuisance, now made her even more ungainly, which suited her.

“Nothing.” Retribution promised, his angry gaze swept over her.

Ava returned the look, not backing down. She’d bailed him out of his gaming debts for the last few years. How dare he force her into this unfortunate situation?

“I assure you that the idea was all mine.” The Duke stood and paced around the library, stopping to study a shelf lined with books. He kept his back to her as he spoke in a bitter tone, “As you know my father--”

“I know your father passed... I’m terribly sorry for your loss.” She stood. “But I’m going back to the ballroom. I have gossip to attend too and--”

“No, this was part your idea, too.” The Duke began to pace again and waved his hand in the air. “After all, you expressed it wouldn’t be a hardship if I courted you.”

The air she’d swallowed came up in an unladylike belch. Heat stole into her cheeks as both men stopped and stared at her. She’d put her fist to her mouth, but it didn’t stifle the length or loudness. “I beg your pardon.”

Her brother spoke in a rush, “She doesn’t always do that.” His fingers bit into her elbow. Mathew leaned close and growled in her ear, “I suggest you stop making a spectacle of yourself.”

Aveline took that opportunity to burst into tears. Loud sobs racked her body. Her shoulders shook, and she wailed, “You are so unkind. It’s humiliating enough when that happens, but you do not have to make it worse by being so cruel.”

To her surprise the Duke came over, put his arms around her shoulders and glared at Mathew. “You should be more tolerant of your sister’s humiliation.”

“Humiliation? Now, you’re taking up for my brother.” She moved away from him and backed to the door. She sobbed with big tears rolling down her cheeks and she swiped them with her sleeve. “My feelings are immensely hurt.”

The Duke seemed to lose patience. “Sit down and stop being trifle. We’ve got a marriage to arrange.”

“I’m not marrying you.” She shuddered. “I would never marry a man that thinks I’m trifle.”

He grabbed her elbow, pulled her to the settee and pushed her down. “Sit and listen.”

“If you insist.” She slouched and smoothed the bright fuchsia silk gown.

“As I was saying, my father--”

“--passed away recently.” She interrupted.

“Before he died he stipulated in his will that I’d have to remarry in order to inherit--”

“Oh, how horrid.” She wrung her hands. “How dare anyone force you to marry! How about Millicent, she’d make a marvelous duchess?”

The Duke stopped, crossed his arms. White powder from her hair coated his black jacket, and he stared at her. “No, I believe you’ll be perfect. Besides it will be only for convenience.”

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I mean you can do whatever you wish.”

“What?” Aveline didn’t like this. The Duke only asked to marry her because he needed to get his inheritance.

“I’m a realistic man.” He grabbed a decanter of cognac and poured himself a glass. “I loved my wife tremendously and I do not intend to love anyone again.”

“Your Grace, you insult me.” She slammed the fan shut. “I may be a twit, I may even be eccentric, but I’m not brainless.” She walked to the door in a huff and paused, “You may go to hell.” She slammed the door shut with all her strength, rattling the sconces on the wall.