To Dishonour A Duke

Chapter Three

"I wasn't aware you had traded your dukedom for a serving position," Clarissa says, shooting her husband a dark look, to which he flashes her an apologetic smile in reply, and places the tray down on the table. Her stiff posture softens as he moves to her side and presses a light kiss on her cheek. The duchess appears to consider resisting but then she accepts the gesture, patting his elbow in return, assuring him of her forgiveness.  

"And he will never see you." A second man breaks the silence from the doorway as he casually leans against the door frame, studying Clara with eyes the colour of the clearest sea, the blue depths flickering intently. Strawberry blonde hair curtains his curved cheekbones and he bears a  boyish quality to his face, curiosity and wonder lighting up his expression. 

"George." Clarissa leans around the duke to greet his brother with a fond smile, "When did you arrive?"

"He caught me with the tea tray and his interest was piqued," Daniel answers, throwing a scowl across the room. "It's almost two in the morning. You should be at your own house, in your own bed, not bothering us."

"What's another person to bother you when you already have guests?" George says lightly, pushing off the door and covering the room in three quick strides before stopping toe to toe with Clara. A flurry of questions crosses his face. Under his scrutiny, she corrects her posture and notes the twitch of his mouth as she appraises him in return, an impassive expression in place.

"Of course, George, this is Lady Clara Eaton." Clarissa introduces her guest as she steps between them, sweeping a gracious arm. "Clara, this is George Cavendish, my brother-in-law."

Clara inclines her head, offering him a shallow curtsy, a coy smile rising to her lips, her eyes never leaving his.  When she rises she has to contain her amusement as he trips over his feet,  scrambling to return the respect. His bow is more than courteous and his initial intensity is replaced by a charming smile.  

"It an absolute honour to make your acquaintance at last." He says, offering his hand.

Clara extends her hand to him and he presses a kiss on the back. His lips are soft on her skin and the pressure is just right, gentle and sweet. From the shiny leather of his shoes to his honest and endearing smile, George Cavendish could be the hero of any romantic's dream. The flutter of her lashes is an automatic reaction to such pleasing manners, and her smile grows as her thumb lightly brushes over the side of his hand. "The pleasure is all mine."

Seemingly lost for words, George stares straight into her face, made easy by their similar height. This allows her the time to appreciate his other pleasing features, and she willingly indulges, admiring the smattering of freckles that are dotted over his nose, and the full lips that must be the desire of many women. His effortless, seemingly innocent charm washes over her, and she enjoys the sparkle of his eyes as opposed to the cold command offered by his older brother.

"This is where you let the lady's hand go," Daniel breaks their moment by jumping forward and knocking his brother's arm down. George responds with a glare, but he steps away and collapses into the third chair in the room. Clarissa sinks back into hers, a glowing smile briefly crossing her face as Daniel chooses to perch on the side of her chair, throwing a protective arm around her shoulder.  

Clara smoothes her skirts out behind her as she retakes her chair. "Why won't Lord Wellsley see me?"

"Because as long as I have known of the man, I have never met him," George replies. 

 "Never?" 

"He has...a network that he operates through," Daniel explains, "The business he deals in requires a great deal of anonymity and therefore he conducts all of it through a trusted circle. I doubt there is anyone aside from that circle that knows any more about him than the scrawl of his signature, and even that can be easily forged."