Chapter 5 Sorry to disappoint you

CHAPTER FIVE

"Vinia," she blurted, then, blushing furiously at her uncharacteristic gaucheness, dropped hastily into a curtsey. "My friends call me Vinia, Your Grace."

A startled gleam of amusement flickered behind the noble-man's drooping eyelids.

"Vinia," he repeated, raising her to her feet. "I am honored to be included among your friends . In which case, you must call me Frederick."

Arvinia blushed even more furiously than before. "Oh, but-but I couldn't," she stammered, wishing the floor would open up and swallow her. The last thing she wanted was to become on more intimate terms with him. She had given him her pet-name, which might just as easily have stood for Lavinia as Vinia, in a last-ditch effort to avoid telling an out and out lie. She had not taken into consideration the fact that he would obviously see it as an overture of friendship. "I should be thought forward, and rightfully so," she finished lamely.

The duke's eyebrow shot toward his hairline. He had been led to believe his promised bride was a spoiled young beauty used to flouting the conventions. Obviously such an assessment could not have been farther from the truth.

"I hardly think," he observed dryly, "that you could be faulted for using your intended's given name. However, if you cannot bring yourself to call me Frederick, then perhaps you would be more comfortable with Alex, at the very least. Either would be preferable to the plethora of 'Your Grace's' and 'My Lord Duke's' with which I have been recently besieged. Having only lately acquired the title from my uncle, I fear that I quickly reach a surfeit of such amenities"

Arvinia, unprepared for such an admission from the duke, whose aristocratic bearing and schooled expression of boredom had till now given every indication of an arrogant, overbearing nature, was startled into giving a low chuckle of laughter.

"Do you indeed, Your Grace? If that is the case, perhaps I should make use of the title that you have so gallantly earned. I could call you 'Colonel, though," she reflected with perfect gravity belied by the twinkle in her eye, "such a nickname does call to mind the image of an elderly, retired gentleman who spends his time at dinner parties entertaining the dowagers with reminiscences of past glories. And that, I think, would never suit."

"A fate to be avoided at all costs," agreed the duke, his handsome lips twitching in amusement.

Arvinia gave him a searching look. "You are young, sir," she observed candidly, "to have achieved so high a rank."

The duke's lip curled sardonically. "The fortunes of battle," he murmured chillingly, all traces of his previous mirth vanished from his face. "My superiors were not so lucky as I. They perished while I survived, leaving me to climb the ladder of promotion more quickly than I might have desired." Arvinia winced at his harsh bark of laughter. "Ironic is it not, that I should have achieved an even higher rank in the same manner? Who would have thought that fate would see fit to remove my uncle, his son, and my father in order that I might inherit a title I neither expected nor wanted? By all rights it should have been I who perished, not they. I at least courted death on the battlefield."

"And came too close for comfort on more than one occasion" noted Arvinia matter-of-factly, though she had gone from hot to cold during his recital. "If all that is said of you is true."

A wry gleam came to the nobleman's eyes. "A great deal has been said about me, most of it unfit for a woman's ears. Has what you heard given you a disgust of me, Miss Augustus?"

"What I have heard, my lord duke," she replied steadily, "is that there is no braver officer in the king's service, nor one more heedless of his own career when it came to the welfare of those under his command. It is said that your men would follow you into the streets of Paris itself if you asked it of them, and that none fought with greater ferocity or determination than yours. You are, in short, noted for your coolness of nerve, your abilities to lead and command, and your total disregard for the opinions of others."

"It would appear that you have had your ears filled with a great deal of nonsense," the duke observed feelingly.

"On the contrary, Your Grace, I assure you I have this from the most reliable of sources, our groom, Mr. William Lancelot."

"Lancelot? Good God. Don't tell me the old reprobate is still alive. If he is your source, then I little wonder you have an inflated notion of my character. I doubt there is a greater windbag in existence than my erstwhile sergeant-major."

"Is he indeed, sir," murmured Arvinia. "And yet I have found him to be both honest and loyal. Perhaps you would be interested to know that he has also informed me you have a prodigious temper, a reckless compulsion for gambling-at which you win more often than not-and, where women are concerned, a reputation for being dangerous. Furthermore, you are not only Mendoza's equal at fisticuffs, but according to Lancelot, there is not a man alive better than you either with pistols or swords."

Until then, they had been engaged in a sort of verbal fencing match, lightly circling and crossing swords as they took one another's measure. At this point, however, the duke paled as if he had been delivered a coup.

"It would seem that Lancelot is ill-informed," he uttered darkly, an impenetrable mask descending over the chiseled countenance. "Contrary to his assessment of my abilities, I was bested by a French marksman, who left me with this." Leaning heavily on the ebony stick, which he had been holding inconspicuously at his side, the duke displayed his limping gait.

Though Arvinia's heart filled with pity, her gaze was unflinching as Alexander came about to impale her with hard, glittering eyes. "The man Lancelot knew no longer exists," he said with a cynical curl of the lips. "I am, without a doubt, sorry to disappoint you."

Arvinia carefully inhaled, willing her pulse to cease its erratic beat.