The rest followed suit, most likely trying to figure out why the devil they were clapping for a man they'd rather see hanging by a noose, especially considering how much he offended their delicate sensibilities.
He gave a little bow to his audience, and immediately went to Montmouth's side. "A pleasure, as always, your grace."
"Doing it a little brown, aren't we, Haverstone?"
"Whatever do you mean?" Hunter tilted his head and boldly eyed the Duchess of Montmouth. "I was merely trying to remedy an awkward situation."
"You did lovely." The duchess reached out to him.
He grasped her hands and pulled her close. "Do you really think so?"
She gasped as Montmouth pried her hands away from Hunter's grasp.
The duke cursed but a small smile danced across his lips. "I think I speak for every married man here: find yourself a woman and settle down before you find yourself fighting in a duel."
"But your grace…" Hunter tried to look horrified. "Those are illegal! I am, after all, a lover, not a fighter."
The duchess burst out laughing as Hunter was ushered away by Montmouth at alarming speed.
"Must you always be so—"
"Charming? Dashing?" Hunter filled in, suddenly enjoying himself now that the pain in his heart had begun to slightly fade.
"I was going to say irritating," Montmouth ground out as he reached for a glass of champagne. "Just be careful not to seduce any women who are married and you will do just fine."
"Why, Monmouth! Are you of all people giving me sane advice? Is it because you care for my welfare? Must admit, my tastes haven't ever swung in that direction, you silly man, but I thank you for your concern."
"I do not care a whit for you."
"Surprising." Hunter gulped the rest of his wine and placed the empty glass on a passing tray, then grabbed another. "And here I thought we were to be going shooting and riding tomorrow, all the while laughing into the sunset. I'm so disappointed."
"Clearly." Montmouth grunted. "Just be careful. This is the duchess's first ball of the Season and she is nervous."
"Then perhaps her husband should go about easing her nerves." Hunter grinned wolfishly, and when Montmouth made no move in her direction, Hunter added, "Or perhaps her tastes are running more on the wild side tonight, hmm?"
Montmouth's arm shot out to stop Hunter. "One week."
"Pardon?" Hunter shrugged out of the duke's hold.
Montmouth slapped him forcefully on the back. "One week before you fight your first duel."
"Are we taking bets then?" Dominique walked up and grinned.
"Absolutely." Montmouth shook Dominique's hand while Hunter rolled his eyes and ignored their bidding. "Shall we put it in the books at White's?"
Hunter snorted and gave them both bored looks. "May as well line your pockets at my expense, though it saddens me to tell you nobody will challenge me to a duel."
Dominique cursed. "He's right."
"Why the devil not?" Montmouth seemed terribly disappointed that Hunter would go on living another day.
"Because they would lose." Hunter shrugged, his eyes still trained on the staircase where Gwen was to be descending. Where the blazes was she?
"How can you be so certain?" Montmouth really wasn't letting this go. Perhaps when this was all over with Hunter could fake his own death so the duke could sleep peacefully at night.
"Is that your way of asking for a demonstration?" Hunter's voice was light but his glare was penetrating.
Montmouth took a step back, his eyes never leaving Hunter's. "There is something wrong with you."
At that, Hunter threw his head back and laughed bitterly. "Believe me, I know."
The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention. She was here, but where the blazes was she? He ran a shaky hand through his hair and exhaled. The smell of rose water filled the air. His breath caught, as he clenched his fists and felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Surprise," a sultry voice said behind him. For a minute he felt his mask, his façade fade away as he entertained the thought of being with her, and only her at the ball.
If things were different. If she truly were looking for a husband, would she dare look in his direction?
"Lady Gwendolyn." Hunter turned around with every intention of giving her a curt bow and asking for a dance.
Good intentions died the minute he set eyes on her person.
"I thought I told you to change?"
"Yes, well, as you so lovingly pointed out, I'm hard of hearing. Besides, I still listened."
"Yes, if listening means going behind my back and doing something just as scandalous."
"It's a cape."
"It's red."
"My, my, my, what very big eyes you have to notice such a bright color, Wolf."
Hunter gripped her elbow and pulled her toward the dance floor, shouting to Montmouth, "Permission to waltz with the fair lady?"
"Absolutely not!" Montmouth ground out.
Dominique elbowed him. Montmouth cursed and finally gave a nod.
"Lovely." Hunter placed his hands on Gwendolyn's body, nearly swearing as he did so. "I have half a mind to punish you."
Gwen glared. "And I have half a mind to slap you across the face."
"Pray tell, what is stopping you?" Hunter crooned into her ear.
"I do not wish to touch you."
"Have you taken to lying now that you're a spy?"
Gwen tensed in his arms. "Are you that confident in your looks, your grace?"
"Not at all," Hunter answered honestly, pulling her closer than what was considered appropriate. "I was speaking of my skills in the bedroom, of course."
"I wouldn't know."
Hunter chuckled warmly, his lips nearly touching her ear. "Would you like to?"
Gwen jerked back, her face flushed. "You're making a fool of yourself."
"As are you." He assessed her coldly; she squirmed in his arms. "The way I see it, every person in this room is straining to hear our conversation. Alas, we are speaking in hushed tones, so they cannot know what we speak of. But care to guess what they do know?"
"Not really." She clenched her teeth. "But I'm sure you'll tell me anyway."
"Good girl." Hunter chuckled and pulled her body more tightly to his. "At this very moment, the ladies are commenting on your blush, the way it covers your cheeks and dips ever so naughtily down your neck into the deep canvas of your br**sts." Hunter hoped what he was doing would work, because if it didn't, he was going to have to excuse himself and jump into the Thames in order to cool his arousal.