The Duke I'm Going to Marry(39)

She rolled her eyes. Would this evening never end? For the most part, Charles was an amiable fellow. She tolerated him when he was sober. She didn’t like him nearly so much when he was drunk, for he was far cruder and more... uninhibited than she’d realized. He also believed himself to be irresistible to women.

Ugh! He wasn’t.

Dillie turned a few corners and came upon the fountain. It was surprisingly dark here, no moonlight glistening on the water, for the moon was presently shrouded in a passing cloud. The terrace was no longer in view.

The strains of a waltz filtered through the gently rustling lilac leaves, and Dillie suddenly realized that the music from the ballroom would drown out any noise from the garden. The guests taking air on the terrace wouldn’t hear her if she cried out.

But why would she? She was in no danger.

“This way,” Charles urged, suddenly coming up behind her. “I think I see her sitting alone on a bench.”

Dillie gasped.

She didn’t see any bench, or anything remotely resembling the outline of a woman. “I told you not to follow me.” She curled her hands into fists.

Charles frowned. “You took too long. I was worried about you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

He took a step closer, seemingly offended. “How was I to know that? Don’t you trust me?”

“I had better go. My family will be worried about me.” She tried to step around him, but he grabbed her hand and forced her up against him, his breath now unpleasantly hot against her neck.

“Not yet. Stay with me, country girl. No need for pretense.” He emitted a silly laugh that nonetheless felt dangerous. “You’ve been playing coy with me all evening. I know what you really want. Mary told me so. She said I ought to do something about it. Are you hot for me, Dillie? Shall I do something about it?”

She tried to push him away, but he was heavier than she’d realized. “Actually,” she said with a grunt, shoving at him with all her might, “Mary’s wrong. I don’t find you pleasant at all. You’re disgusting and I’d like you to go away.”

He seemed surprised, but not at all deterred. He bent to kiss her and managed to land his tongue in her ear. “I don’t believe you.” He tried to kiss her again, and this time his wet mouth landed half on her eyelid and half on her nose. Ew!

“Let go of me. Now!” She drew her hand back, and then swung it forward with all her strength, resulting in a resounding slap across his face.

Perhaps not the best idea.

He was on her again, this time angry. His hands clamped around her back and moved downward to cup her buttocks. “No need to play hard to get. I know how you like—” She slapped him again. Hard. Too bad she didn’t have a decent stick to use as a club to pound him over the head or shove up his—Ow!

His grip tightened painfully on her arms. “Did you expect me to believe your innocent act? I know I’m not your first.”

“What?”

He laughed. “How many before me? Mary said you were no virgin. In truth, I don’t care. You’ll find me most accommodating.”

“You’re attics-to-let if you believe your cousin’s drivel. Why would she say such a wicked thing about me?”

He jerked her backward, pinning her against a tree. She felt the painful prickle of rough bark against her skin. She tried to escape, but he had her trapped between his arms. “And now to claim what’s mine.”

“No!” She poked him in the eye, and was about to raise her knee to kick him in his male parts when he suddenly peeled away with a shriek. She heard a splash, and then heard him sputter. He must have landed in the fountain. How?

“I believe the lady said no.” Ian! Crumpets, I’ll be in for a lecture now. From him of all people! “I suggest you go home and dry off, Ealing. Don’t let me catch you near Miss Farthingale again.”

Charles staggered to his feet, soaked from head to toe. “So that’s how it is? You and Edgeware? Mary warned me. I ought to have listened.” He turned to Ian. “You can have the deceitful bitch. She’s good for nothing but her dowry.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that.” Ian left Dillie’s side. She heard his fist slam against Charles’ jaw and heard Charles yowl in response. Then she heard another splash as Ian tossed him back into the fountain. More sputtering as he staggered out of it.

“I’ll get you for this, Edgeware! You’ll be sorry.”

“Get in line,” Ian snapped back. “There are others ahead of you.”

Charles, soaking wet and angry, started back toward them. Ian nudged her behind him and took a step forward, fists raised. “You really want to do this, Ealing?”