Wicked Surrender (Regency Sinners)(2)

Chapter 2


Aston House, London

Two days later.



“His Grace the Duke of Huntley is here to see you, my lady.” The butler presented a silver tray bearing the duke’s gold-embossed calling card.

Lady Isabella Aston, Bella to her friends, made no effort to take that card. Her heart had momentarily ceased beating at the mention of the man she had once loved and who had scorned and ridiculed her when she expressed that emotion to him.

The same man who had haunted her daydreams and inspired her every nighttime fantasy long before that.

She had been an outgoing thirteen-year-old when her widowed mother, Antonia Clairmont, eloped with Henry—Hal St. Just, the Marquis of Cornwall and a gentleman five years Antonia’s junior. The match had not been approved of by the groom’s parents, most particularly his mother, the Duchess of Huntley. Consequently, it had been several months before the duke and duchess relented enough to forgive their son.

That forgiveness had never extended to Antonia or her daughter, Isabella, from her first marriage, but they were grudgingly included in family occasions such as Christmas celebrations. It was at their first Christmas with the St. Just family that Bella had met her step-papa’s cousin, Dante.

For Bella, it had been love at first sight. Well…as much as a thirteen-year-old girl could fall in love. Most would have called it infatuation. Dante had cruelly called it that several years later.

Then aged four and twenty, Dante St. Just had been all that was tall, dark, and handsome. His hair was inclined to curl if it grew too long. He was several inches over six feet tall, with a lithe and muscular body shown to advantage in the perfectly tailored clothes he favored. He possessed an aristocratic face which could have decorated a Roman coin: perfectly arched brows, compelling green eyes, a sharp blade of a nose, high cheekbones, and a sculptured mouth above a strong and determined jaw.

Was it any wonder that her thirteen-year-old heart had been instantly smitten?

In return, her newly acquired Cousin Dante had been pleasant enough to her. But being a man full grown, he had obviously shown no more interest in her then than when the two of them continued to meet at family gatherings. Not surprising, with her perfectly straight dark hair, round and olive-skinned face—the latter courtesy of her Spanish mother—and her flat-chested figure.

There had been a vast improvement in Bella’s appearance by the time she reached the age of seventeen, the age when her mama and stepfather had unfortunately perished after a freak storm had overturned their sailing boat. There had been no children from their union, and having no other relatives, Bella had become the ward of her stepgrandfather and stepgrandmother, the Duke and Duchess of Huntley. Dante St. Just, now his uncle’s closest male relative, had become heir to the dukedom.

At seventeen, Bella had already attended her first Season, and had learned the art of curling her hair. Her face was no longer round but heart-shaped. She also applied a powder that gave her face a paler appearance. She possessed a smooth and creamy brow, high cheekbones, long dark lashes surrounding dark brown eyes, and a pert nose. Her lips were full above a pointed chin, which she lifted stubbornly whenever she was intent upon having her own way.

The only thing that had not changed were her feelings for Dante St. Just.

“My lady?” her butler, Grant, prompted quietly at her lack of response.

Bella firmly closed down those painful memories. “Please inform His Grace I am unwell and not up to receiving visitors this morning.”

“You appear well enough to me.”

Bella rose abruptly to her feet as Dante St. Just strode into her drawing room with the same cold arrogance with which he had dismissed her seven years ago.

He looked older, of course, lines beside his eyes—which she doubted were due to laughter—and grooved into his cheeks. But that maturity only added to Huntley’s imposing handsomeness.

A setter of fashion rather than a follower, Dante St. Just’s appearance was always impeccable, and today was no exception. His dark hair was styled just so. There was the ruthlessly trimmed beard he had made fashionable, covering the firmness of his jaw. His dark green superfine was tailored perfectly to wide shoulders and a muscular chest, gray pantaloons emphasizing long and shapely legs, above shiny black Hessians.

Aware they were in the presence of her butler, Bella could only allow the flashing of her dark eyes to challenge the duke’s intrusion into the inner sanctum of her home. “I was unaware you were a qualified physician, Your Grace.”

Cold green eyes looked down the length of his nose at her. “One does not need to be a physician to see that you are the picture of health.”

From any other man, that remark might have been taken as flattery or flirtation. Not so coming from Huntley, and certainly not in connection to her.

Besides, Bella knew it was not true. Despite what the duke might think to the contrary, she was only recently recovered from a severe cold, during which she had lost weight due to a lack of appetite. Her face was also paler than usual, in contrast to her dark hair and the brightness of her peach-colored day gown.

“Shall I bring tea, my lady?” Grant was his usual attentive self.

Unfortunately, Bella felt no such politeness in regard to the gentleman to whom she had barely spoken in seven years. “His Grace will not be staying long enough for tea, but thank you, Grant.” She waited until the butler had left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, before turning back to Huntley. “What possible reason could you have for coming into my home uninvited?” she demanded without preamble.