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Authors: Mary Balogh

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And he would speak the language that Porterhouse obviously spoke best. It was very likely that the sum of money he would offer would be far more attractive to the man than the rather modest fortune in stolen jewels he was carrying around with him. Porterhouse would not want to admit, of course, that he had those jewels, but the chances were that he would be persuaded to do so when the admission would be worth so much to him.

The Duke of Mitford had not paused to consider why he was willing to pay out such a handsome ransom for jewels that were no concern of his. The fact that they belonged to the bride his grandfather had chosen for him, perhaps? Or the fact that having spent a great deal of his time pursuing the villain, he felt it necessary to end the episode in a satisfactory manner? Or the fact that having embarked on the first—and, he hoped fervently, the last—adventure of his life, he wished to end it in somewhat heroic fashion? He had not stopped to consider.

He set off on his way one hour later, having assured the Hennessys that he was eager to see a friend of his whom he had missed the day before. He would not take Josephine, he explained, gazing fondly at her, because the conversation would be undoubtedly male and tedious to her, and she would be so much happier in the company of her own friends.

“But you must hurry back by luncheon time,” Mrs. Hennessy said, “or we will have Jo sighing and paying no attention to our conversation, Mr. Villiers, just as she was yesterday when we went shopping.” She patted his hand just to show him that there was no offense in her words.

He kissed Josephine before leaving since the Hennessys clearly expected such signs of affection between them. It was a habit that must not become engrained. His mother would have an apoplexy if she ever saw him kiss a young woman on the lips, even if she were his wife, as Josephine Middleton undoubtedly would be before too much more time had elapsed. But he would not depress himself with that thought.

Porterhouse had not been at breakfast, Tom Burgess told him when he reached Deerview Park. He was out riding, Lord Parleigh told him when he went inside. And he was borne off to play a game of billiards while he waited. It was not quite the way he had hoped to spend the morning, but he could be patient. He would be waiting for Porterhouse on his return. There was plenty of time.

Josephine did not stay to converse comfortably with the ladies as the duke had expected. How could she when there was so much to be done? And how would she ever forgive herself if Mr. Villiers got himself killed on her behalf while she was sitting and talking about balls and ballgowns?

“If I may, sir,” she said, smiling winningly at Mr. Hennessy the very moment the duke’s curricle disappeared from view down the driveway, “I will go riding for an hour or so.”

“My pleasure, Jo,” he said, beaming at her. “I shall see to having a quiet little mare saddled for you. If it were not for the fact that I am expecting my bailiff, I would ride with you myself. Mrs. Hennessy and Caroline, you know, do not like to ride.” He laughed heartily. “They are too afraid of coming home smelling like horse.”

“Harvey!” his wife said.

“Papa!” Caroline said simultaneously.

But neither of them offered to ride with Josephine, she was much relieved to find.

“I will send a groom with you,” Mr. Hennessy said.

“Please don’t.” Josephine smiled shyly. “You will remember, perhaps, sir, that I frequently like to be alone with my thoughts.” How could they possibly remember any such thing? she thought with the merest pang of guilt. “Papa always allowed me to ride alone, provided I did not go far. And Paul has said I may.”

“You wish to be alone to dream of your young husband,” Mrs. Hennessy said, patting her hand. “We understand, dear Jo. And Caroline will doubtless spend the morning in her room dreaming of Mr. Porterhouse and the other handsome gentlemen she is likely to meet at Lord Parleigh’s ball tomorrow night.”

“Mama!” Caroline said.

Mr. Hennessy’s quiet little mare did not take kindly to being prodded along, Josephine found a short while later. But under a little firm guidance it did hold to a steady canter. And indeed, it was not wise to go faster since she was unfamiliar with the terrain and indeed not quite sure of the way.

If only Bart and Sukey were not at Deerview Park, she would ride boldly up to the door. She did not care at all about possible scandal. Apart from the Hennessys, no one in this part of the world knew her anyway. What would it matter if they saw her come, a single lady in search of a single gentleman? Let them talk or think what they would.

But Bart and Sukey were there. And if Bart clapped eyes on her, he would bear her off home without further ado and scold her all the way. Bart was the laziest of mortals and loved nothing better than to sit at his ease, making fun of the foibles of the world. But when Bart felt that family honor was at stake, or the reputation of one of his sisters, then he could become remarkably like Grandpapa. It was not difficult at all to imagine the type of elderly gentleman Bart would grow into.

And then, of course, Sukey would look at her with gentle reproach all the way back to Rutland Park and try to make excuses for her behavior to an outraged Bart. No, it did not bear thinking of. She would not ride boldly up to the door.

But she did not need to do so or to slink around by kitchen entrances, as she had considered doing. By some singular good fortune, she saw Mr. Porterhouse even before she knew for certain that she must be on Lord Parleigh’s land. He was riding close to a copse of trees with another gentleman and two ladies.

There was no chance to consider strategy. No time to wonder whether she should ride boldly up to the party or hide among the trees and try to attract Mr. Porterhouse’s attention without being seen by the others. She had already been seen. And Mr. Porterhouse had the gall to sweep his hat from his head and made her a bow from the back of his horse.

“Mrs. Villiers, ma’am,” he called as she rode closer to them, “well, met, indeed. Do join us. May I present Sir Fabian Crawley and Miss Crawley? And Lady Dorothy Brough?” He smiled around at the others. “Mrs. Villiers is a close friend and neighbor of my cousins, the Winthrops, in Northhamptonshire. And she is very recently married. Less than a week, I believe you said, ma’am?”

“Five days,” Josephine said, and smiled. She hoped she was not blushing, oh she hoped not.

She conversed with the group for all of two minutes on the state of the weather before turning to Mr. Porterhouse.

“I am afraid I was lost,” she said. “I was on my way to the house. Could I beg that you cut short your ride, sir, to show me the way?”

Mr. Porterhouse bowed and smiled. There was even a twinkle in his eye, Josephine would have sworn.

A moment later they were riding away from the group.

Chapter 12

Mr. Porterhouse had not had a great deal of sleep the night before. It had been a foolish theft and not at all in his usual style. It had just seemed so easy at the time to take the jewel case into his own keeping. He had not even thought of it as theft since at the time he had been fully convinced that the girl would be his too. But then that assumption had also been foolish. He had never indulged in seduction before, either. It was just that his pockets were sadly to let, and opportunity had seemed to fall into his lap when he found a rustic family which just happened to be more wealthy than he dreamed of being.

And the chit had seemed brainless enough. No town bronze. No sense of proper decorum. And facing a marriage that alarmed her. It had seemed too easy to resist.

And yet now he was stuck with stolen jewels, which were not worth near as much as he had expected, and half the world was in pursuit of him. He had seriously considered, during his wakeful night, sneaking out into the darkness and throwing the jewels down a well or into a river. He could bluff his way out of the situation if there were no evidence against him.

But he could not bring himself to do it. The pieces would not make him a wealthy man, but they would stand between him and debtors’ prison, perhaps, for a while longer. The temptation to keep them was just too strong.

He should, of course, have gone immediately to London to sell the jewels. Then he would have been perfectly safe. But no, he had been too clever for his own good and turned north, imagining that any pursuit would automatically head south.

He had remembered a long-standing invitation from Lord Parleigh, who was forever holding house parties and forever inviting any chance-met stranger. It was said, indeed, that one did not need any invitation at all to Deerview Park, since Lord Parleigh would merely assume that he had met one and invited one at some time.

He had not proved so clever after all. Miss Middleton herself, for all her rustic ways, had caught up to him, and presumably she had with her the giant who had attacked him on a previous occasion. And others had caught up to him too.

By the time morning came, he was still undecided about what was his best course of action. All instinct told him that it would be best to run, but common sense told him that that would be the worst possible thing to do since it would immediately point to his guilt.

And so he had decided to stay. And he had fallen in with the suggestion of Sir Fabian Crawley, made at an early breakfast before most of the guests had risen, that a group of them go out riding.

It was only when he was in the stables mounting his horse that something happened to cause him almost to lose his nerve. That great giant of a groom was there again, the bald man who had looked familiar the day before. And devil take it, he had been right. The man really had been one of the ostlers at the Crown and Anchor Inn. Or at least, he had assumed at the time that he was employed at the inn.

He must have been mistaken. The man must be employed by that Villiers, with whom Miss Middleton was traveling. And the groom’s present assignment must be no less than to spy on his movements, since Villiers himself was not staying at Deerview Park.

Mr. Porterhouse, riding out beside Miss Crawley and making small talk with her, felt distinctly as if a noose were closing about his neck. And then he saw Josephine Middleton and knew before many minutes had passed that she had been set to lure him back to the house.

And yet he was amused. Did they think he would crumble so easily? Did they think he was no match for a mere slip of a girl, who had fallen quite easily into his clutches on a previous occasion?

“May I congratulate you once more on your marriage, ma’am?” he said to her as they rode away from the rest of the group. “I am delighted that after all you evaded the clutches of my acquaintance, the Duke of Mitford.”

“We can dispense with the small talk,” she said, “since there is no audience, sir. You know as well as I that I am not married and that I came here with Mr. Villiers only to pursue you.”

“Am I to feel flattered?” he asked, smiling across at her. “You rejected me once, ma’am. Am I to believe that you have had a change of heart?”

“Do you know,” she said, fixing him with a severe eye, “my grandpapa has always said that lying is dangerous because sometimes one ends up living the lie so thoroughly that one loses touch with reality? I see now, sir, that he was right. I want my jewels, and I intend to have them before I return home.”

He looked at her in serious concern. “That is not the first time you have said something similar,” he said. “Do I take it, ma’am, that you have misplaced some jewels and imagine that I have them?”

“No,” she said, “I do not imagine. I know, sir.”

“In all probability,” he said kindly, “you left them at home, Miss Middleton, and just imagine that you brought them with you.”

“Oh,” she said fiercely, “you know that is untrue, sir. I remember distinctly warning you not to bump your shins with the corner of the box in the bottom of my valise. And I was foolish enough to tell you what was in the box.”

“Ah,” he said. “I am afraid I do not recall the conversation, ma’am.”

“You have a choice,” Josephine said, sitting very straight in her saddle. “You may return the jewels to me now without any fuss at all, or you may confront Mr. Villiers with your denials.”

“I am all fear and trembling,” he said.

“You will be,” Josephine said. “He is already at the house awaiting you. Perhaps it would be well to learn from experience and remember what resulted from your last encounter with him.”

Mr. Porterhouse raised his eyebrows. But he did not reply. Mr. Seymour and the elder Miss Hope were riding toward them. “We decided after all that we would join the ride,” Mr. Seymour called as they drew near, and he raised his hat and looked curiously at Josephine.

Mr. Porterhouse made the introductions.

“You will wish to return to the house without delay, Mr. Porterhouse,” Miss Hope said. “The Duke of Mitford is waiting for you there and has been for quite some time.”

“So,” Mr. Porterhouse said, gazing ahead of him as the other two rode on, “you have laid a powerful trap, ma’am. The beau you pretended to despise, Villiers, your brother and sister, Villiers’s groom. I suppose I should congratulate you.”

Mr. Porterhouse was too engrossed in his own thoughts to take notice of the pale face and staring eyes of his companion.

“Yes,” she said finally. “So I think, sir, it would be wiser to relinquish the jewels and look elsewhere for a wealthy and gullible bride.”

Mr. Porterhouse made a sudden decision. “They are not at the house, you know,” he said. “You do not think me fool enough to keep them there, do you?”

“Where are they, then?” she asked. “And do not say they are far away and you must ride out for them. I am not such a fool, sir. You will not escape from me again. I shall go with you to fetch them.”

“My thoughts entirely,” he said. “They are at my aunt’s. A drive of a mere two hours, ma’am. If you will not find the journey tedious, you may ride with me and we may be done with this whole tiresome charade.”

“Let us go, then,” she said.

“Ah,” he said, “but I must return to the house first, ma’am. And it would be wise to take my carriage since it will be rather far to ride and I fear we may have rain before the day is out.”

BOOK: An Unlikely Duchess
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