The Devil Duke and Miss. Granger

Chapter III- The Polka

Hermione kept her eyes firmly downwards as she concentrated on the book of deportment she was meant to be reading.

Really, the book was a ruse to hide one of her much-loved scandal sheets, she had had to nearly wrest it away from Amy, the Cook's assistant who had had it for more than enough time in her opinion.

She wondered if there would be anything about her own fit of idiocy mentioned in the papers or of clothes left behind in the Duke's gardens since she had left in such a hurry. She hoped not. If there was nothing that then meant one of her worries was gone. So far, she had anxiously scanned it and found nary a mention of anything other than news from the nights various entertainments; balls and such. Thank god.

Tori was entertaining several young men in her family home's yellow parlour with Hermione chaperoning, it was a gorgeous room that faced the east of Greengrass House, so the early afternoon sunshine was pouring in, painting the beautifully blonde Astoria like a glorious Greek goddess; Aphrodite perhaps and the light pink of her gown showed her creamy skin to perfection.

In fact, everything her young cousin wore gave of the impression of lustrous beauty from the pink-pearls at her throat and dripping from her ears to the pink satin ribbon woven through her fair hair. Indeed, Hermione felt some measure of pride in the way Astoria looked today considering she had picked out the outfit.

They were so young, she thought with a sudden burst of affection watching her twenty-year-old cousin giggle about the latest piece of Romantic poetry her current suitor had written for her.

The young men courting the Season's diamond were all young men with handsome manners, charming looks and indeed among them were also Earls and a young Marquees who had only recently inherited the title after the death of his older brother in the Peninsula. Much better than Astoria, a mere Baron's daughter could have ever hoped for. Despite her wonderful charm and hefty dowry.

Hermione knew Astoria and Malcolm Baddock (A/N- I am not familiar with this character, I just decided to pick someone from the Slytherin wiki who was on the younger side and not so well known) the new Marquees Halifax liked each other.

They were of a similar age, both witty and beautiful, the centre of any gathering, adored by the Ton and by the way Astoria had tried to hide his letter from Hermione this morning when they had broken their fast together, already slightly in love. He had brought Tori dahlias today and pink ones too... they were her favourite and devilishly hard to find in London.

Hermione sighed, their children would be adorable. Glumly she looked back down at newspaper tucked into her book attempting to focus on the words in front of her. She did not want a husband, she thought firmly.

She wanted to write her own novel and have it published under her own name. But sometimes... she felt inexplicably alone, like there was no one who knew who she was... not Hermione Granger the companion, the plain brown woman who sat and read while Astoria entertained... no someone who knew the real her, behind the bland smile, someone to share her hopes and dreams with, to share all the love she had left in the dark and buried once her parents had died, with.

And she also felt cheated, that just because she was a woman with no family anymore, she had to resign herself to a fate she fundamentally disagreed with. Especially when she was perfectly healthy and willing to go out and work yet remained constrained by the rules of Society.

Once Astoria was married, she will have fulfilled her duties to her uncle and aunt and no matter how hard it would seem at first, she must-must by any means try and become independent.

She would start looking for jobs in the morning tomorrow, mayhap a secretary or a bookkeeper of some sort. Hermione was excellent at managing household accounts and the like, her skills at mathematics were legendary among her own family.

A short knock on the door caught her attention, the maid looked in uncomfortably and gestured to Hermione to come to the door.

"Astoria, dearest. I must attend to something, will you be alright for a few minutes."

Tori gave her a distracted wave, her eyes rapt on the young Marquees and whatever story from his travels he was regaling his audience with.

Hermione sighed and moved sedately to the door where, Betty the senior maid was gesturing wildly. They had been without a housekeeper at Greengrass House for quite some time, it seemed to Hermione that she had been made ad-hoc housekeeper too.

"What is it Betty, I informed you that we must remain undisturbed while Miss. Astoria has callers."

"I know 'Mum (A/N- Cockney accent/ Ma'am) however the butler told me to let you know, the Duke of MacFoy is here. He's wanting to call on the little miss."

"The who?" Hermione asked faintly, feeling the blood beginning to drain from her face.

"The Duke of MacFoy, 'mum." the maid looked at her nervously, "Can't turn him away can we... 'e's a bleedin' Duke."

"Language Betty." Hermione corrected faintly, "No... no I don't suppose we can turn him away can we."

...

Draco was aware of the vague flutter that went through the cheerfully decorated parlour when he strode in. It was done in the fashionable Egyptian style and gave the room a pleasant, open appearance and at the very centre of all the light was beautiful young woman, looking over him apprehensively while being attended to by several young men with artfully tussled curls, fashionable dress and deeply resentful frowns on their faces.

God, Draco thought with a sigh... letting go of that breath he had been holding. It wasn't his dark eyed spy but what had he been thinking by adding this girl to his list of prospective brides. She was barely out of the schoolroom. He glanced down at his own unfashionably strict black breeches and plain shirt and neckcloth and sighed. She was much too young for him to marry.

It seemed that every year they just became younger and younger.

"Your Grace." greeted the blonde girl with a perfect curtsey, "It is our pleasure to have your presence here among us, we have never met a Duke before especially one as esteemed as you. Please allow me to ring for some tea."

Draco grunted, damnation he was in no mood to sit around watching children read poetry while drinking weak tea. He was sure that note he had found would lead him somewhere today.

"Miss Granger." came the refined voice of the Greengrass chit, "You wouldn't mind ringing for some tea, would you."

Draco's head snapped up and his eyes caught two incredibly guilty looking brown ones. Granger. That was the woman's name last night.

The eyes belonged to a woman who had been so quiet that Draco hadn't noticed her stood silently in the shadows.

Draco recognized those eyes... after all he had gazed into them for a rather long-time last night.

Found you, he thought triumphantly. Noting from the hectic blush on the woman's... and she was certainly a woman and not a girl, face Draco knew that she knew her ruse was up.

...

Damn Astoria thought Hermione morosely as a pair of perfectly blade like silver eyes locked into her own and his handsome face broke into a smirk.

Tea, she remembered belatedly before ringing the bell for the cook to send up another tray.

He wouldn't approach her, he couldn't, she assured herself. After all everyone in the room would think it strange if the Duke struck up a conversation with the companion.

However, the clamour over Astoria's attention now that she had been favoured by a Duke, a war hero no less had exploded. Jealous suitors, including the young Marquees of Halifax now turned their determined gaze on the pearl at the centre of the room. Determined to prove to her that they were worthy of her attention... her hand, despite the interest of a Duke.

Seeing how quickly the younger crowd stopped paying attention to him, the man himself began walking towards her.

Hermione's heart felt like it would burst from her chest.

She had to leave.

...

"Going somewhere, Hermione?" he asked silkily following her as she edged towards the door.

"You can't call me that." she hissed out indignantly.

"Well maybe you shouldn't try and break into innocent men's houses."

"I wasn't trying to break into your house, odious man... I was just!"

"Just what?!"

"Curious..." she replied in a soft voice, looking away from him, "Curious about you, 'twas a good chance to catch a glimpse of you. I regret it now."

He moved closer trying to see her face more clearly, "Did you lie? Or were you really looking into what kind of a husband I would make for your charge?"

"Do you intend to ask for her hand then?" she asked, finally looking into his face, her expression unreadable.

"Oh god no." he grimaced, "Imagine having to converse with a young woman about Byron and romantic poetry and other such twaddle all day long. I will not abide by it."

"Well, Your Grace, I'd imagine it would be just as taxing on the young lady to communicate with a man nearly ten years older than her who knows nothing about her interests and demeans the things she loves." came the tart reply.

Draco barked out a laugh, it had been some time since someone had given him such a lemony set-down.

"Come out of the shadows, Miss. Granger... I promise to behave and not let anything slip about your unfortunate trip last evening."

She shot him a disbelieving look, her hand still on the door's brass knocker. But with a sigh she turned back and walked past him.

Draco closed his eyes as he savoured her unusual scent, tart like oranges and warm like cloves.

She was dressed in a hideous blue gown that hid all of what he knew he had felt the night before. The memory of her soft and firm breasts moulding to the rough skin of his hands teased the back of his senses.

Today in her garb as the dowdy companion his mysterious spy with the laughing brown eyes had disappeared. Wary maple eyes studied him from under an ugly lace cap.

He felt the urge to rip that thing off her head, but this was not the place and he couldn't continue talking to her... especially if he wished to avoid causing her any problems.

He allowed her to pass, watching as she retook her original seat away from the centre of the room. He wished to speak to her, to know what had prompted her to seek him out and why she was living like this... as a companion.

There were of-course ways to find out without asking her, mayhap it was time for him to pay a visit to his clubs and see if he could glean some information there.

It had been so long since Draco had felt such hot and rampant desire for a woman or the hot rush of arousal that came after sparring with an intelligent and lovely woman. And lovely she no doubt was... even with the hideous clothes and the cap she wore, she had not chosen to grace him with her delightful dimple today but her tart reply to him had cemented something... this woman was special... she made him laugh.

He had no interest in whores or casual rendezvous any more, he wanted more...

After the war, nothing seemed to lift the mire around his vision. All he saw was death, poverty and the fall of good men. When he had been a Rifle; for years he had lived life... even as an Officer and not an infantryman, a life soaked with blood and the stench of war never left him for long.

Often when he stood on a busy London street or at home, an unexpended sound would return him to the days in Crimea where he had felt the cannons explode near his camp or the sound of French pistols close to his head... his death eminent. And it would take him some time to snap himself out of his stupor.

This woman had brought a smile to his face... the first one in maybe months. He wanted to touch her... speak to her... but he didn't want to harm her or get her into trouble.

Her position any household as companion was precarious at best. Talking to her for too long would put her reputation in jeopardy, a dangerous thing for Greengrass who still had an unmarried daughter living under his roof.

He wished to see her like he had last night; sparking with vitality but right now her worried eyes followed his every move like she feared he would spill the truth about last night any second.

He had no intention of telling anyone what had transpired last night, that memory was special... for him alone... to take out at night and savour.

He wanted to know everything about Miss. Hermione Granger.

Duke's rarely ran off to marry penniless companions.

But it had been known to happen... a time or two.

...

Hermione watched, confused as the Duke took his leave from Astoria after briefly providing the young bucks and her cousin a few anecdotes about the war. He was like a big golden lion among twittering fancy birds, he looked dangerously out of place in their cheery parlour and Hermione wanted desperately to be able to speak to him

She pretended to keep her eyes on her book as he shot her an inscrutable look before leaving through the same door he had entered.

She had not told him if she really had been looking into him, but she couldn't have. So, he would just have to make of that what he did.

What in the world was he even thinking by talking to her. She knew Tori had noticed by the curious look she gave her cousin as the Duke walked out. Hermione knew she would be grilled about this later tonight when they were getting dressed for whatever ball Astoria would have decided to attend.

Hermione had no idea what explanation she would give the younger girl. After-all she had no idea what Malfoy's appearance in the Greengrass parlour meant.

Would he expose her scandalous presence in his house to everyone?

Oh god, Hermione thought... she had all but confirmed to him that it had been her. If he accused her publicly, she would be unable to defend herself.

She began to breathe faster but forced herself to think calmly. He had assured her that he didn't intend to tell anyone her secret. But then what did he want from her.

This was a disaster.

Tbc

...

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