How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (21 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Despite his determination to get his life back on an even keel, he could not stop thinking of Catherine. The truth was, he missed her and her maddening habit of saying exactly what she was thinking with no fear of the consequences. He had to keep reminding himself that she had never had any interest in him. She was only interested in Walsley. And that blasted journal.

Instead of going to the ball at the Russian embassy as he had intended, Nick detoured to his mother’s house. Her butler let him in, and he found her in her library.

“Nick. Darling, what are you doing here?” She hugged him.

“I can’t visit my mother?” She had been ill from the bad food at the theater for longer than he would have liked. Her shoulder blades and ribs were more prominent than they should be.

“Of course, but shouldn’t you be out participating in some society event?” She let her eyes drop to his formal attire.

“Countess Lieven is expecting me at the embassy gala tonight.”

She dropped back into her chair and waved for him to sit across from her. “Something is bothering you.”

“My association with Miss Malboeuf has ended.”

“What did you do?”

Holding up his hands, he defended himself. “I haven’t done anything. It was her decision to end our relationship.”

“You must have played a role in her decision.”

“Perhaps a small role.” He shrugged.

She leaned toward him. “What do you intend to do to remedy the situation?”

He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “I have no plan. I’m not sure the situation is redeemable.”

“Surely nothing between you and Miss Leclerc could be beyond repair.”

“I don’t want to hurt… I can’t force her…”

She relaxed into her chair and took a sip of tea. “You were at school so you never knew, but when your father first began to take that woman into society, I refused to go out at all. I was so embarrassed and ashamed I stayed home for months. Nothing anyone said would convince me to endure the sort of ridicule I thought I would receive. But I finally realized that if I allowed him to dictate my behavior, I was letting him win. I had not done anything improper and had no reason to hide. He was the one who ought to have been ashamed of his behavior. Everyone gladly welcomed me, and he was eventually excluded from all good society.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “But I am his son. His blood runs through my veins. What if I—”

She took his hand. “Nick, you are not your father and never will be. Let yourself be happy. You’ve been living in his shadow long enough.”

As was usually the case, his mother was correct. He had allowed his father’s indiscretions to take over his life. How could he have spoken to Catherine like that? She had no more culpability in her upbringing than he had in his. But instead of turning into a prig like him, she had decided to embrace her life and not allow circumstances that were out of her control to dictate her happiness. He had insulted her in every way possible. No wonder she rebuffed him. He had to speak with her, to find out if there was still time to apologize.

He stood. “I need to get to the ball.”

She grinned and hugged him tight. “Go find Catherine and do whatever you have to do to make things right with her.”

…

There were so many people in attendance that Nick could barely find the space to slip into the ballroom. Moving in any direction was like swimming upriver against a strong current. Luckily he was taller than most everyone, so he was able to see across the room. He could not locate Catherine, but he did see Lady Jane waltzing with Lord Cavanaugh. He set off toward the dancers, hoping he could make his way through the sea of people before the dance ended and Jane disappeared into the crowd.

After attempting to be polite and making very little progress, he gave up and plowed his way through, calling out apologies as he went. He reached Jane just as the dance ended. “Lady Jane, I was hoping you could help me locate Miss Malboeuf.”

“I’m sorry Your Grace, but I haven’t seen her in some time. It wasn’t this much of a crush earlier.” Lord Cavanaugh whispered something in her ear, and she laughed.

A sense of unease slithered up his spine, and he set off to locate anyone who might know where Catherine was. He discovered Lord Hartley in the card room, where he had been for several hours, so he was of no help. Lady Hartley was nowhere to be found, so he sought out the countess, whom he spotted near the refreshment table.

She kissed his cheeks. “Nicky, darling, where have you been? I had begun to despair of you.”

“Apologies for my tardiness. I had a few matters to attend to.”

She patted his arm. “The important thing is that you will be here for dinner.”

“You haven’t seen Miss Malboeuf recently, have you?”

“I’m afraid not, Nicky. Go find her and I will see you at dinner.” She turned to the man next to her. He executed a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn as he scoured the ballroom. Where was Catherine?

“Good evening, Your Grace.”

Just what he needed, that fop, Lord Tregony. He nodded. “Tregony.”

“If by chance you are searching for Miss Malboeuf, you will not find her here. I saw her with Lieutenant Galkin some time ago and have not seen her since.”

Nick turned and glared at him. At least the bloody coxcomb had the wherewithal to walk away from him. For what seemed the thousandth time, he cursed the impulse that had caused him to offer Catherine a wager for Walsley. Once Tregony lost interest in her, she may have felt that she had no other options. And Nick realized he was no better than Tregony. He had treated her the same way as Tregony from their first meeting, whereas the lieutenant had befriended her from the beginning without question. No wonder she had turned to him. If she had chosen Lieutenant Galkin, then he would respect, even understand, her decision, but he had to gamble on the chance that she may not have. And the more he thought about it, the man was a pompous braggart who may not even have been telling the truth about where Catherine was.

Just as he had determined that there was still no sign of Catherine, he saw a flash of green uniform jacket heading into the corridor behind the refreshment table. He hurried through the room and spotted the lieutenant marching up the staircase.

It was odd that he would leave when the gala was in full swing. With no time to alert anyone else to possible trouble, he decided to follow Galkin and if Catherine was not there, he would enlist his aid to locate her. He paused, impatiently waiting for the lieutenant to ascend two flights of the staircase before he followed. The man’s heavy footsteps echoed down the staircase, and Nick took care to muffle his own. He didn’t stop until he reached the top. While waiting on the landing, he peered down the corridor after him, making sure he didn’t lose track of him.

Galkin removed a key from his pocket and unlocked the door of the third chamber on the left side of the corridor. He crossed over the threshold and locked the door behind him. Nick sidled closer and listened intently. It would be unwise for him to rush in until he knew if Catherine was in there, especially since the man was wearing his sword, while he was unarmed.

…

Dark. Cold. Forsaken. Catherine could no longer contain the tears that streamed from the corners of her eyes. Though she had managed to remove the ropes binding her hands with only a tiny nick to her palm, her feet were sore and bloody from kicking the door to the wardrobe. Curse the silly, thin slippers ladies wore to balls. If she were wearing boots she would have had a chance at escape.

No one was coming to rescue her.

Surely they would have had the house searched if anyone had noticed she was missing. She had thought Nick might come, but that hope lasted only as long as her flimsy slippers had held up.

Between the darkness and her shaking hands, she had trouble determining what type of lock the wardrobe had. It had to be on the outside because she could find no place on the inside to insert her knife to try to break the lock. Or to unlock it with a hairpin. One thing was certain, it had been reinforced, perhaps for this purpose. She lifted her feet again and kicked the bottom of the door, her bruised heels causing her to cry out.

Drawing her feet under her, she huddled in the corner, shaking, sweat streaming down her back though she was ice-cold. The chamber was glacial without a fire or any source of warmth, and she imagined she would be able to see her breath if she were able to see anything in the darkness. Never having lived in a cold climate, she didn’t know how to judge how long it would be before she froze to death if no one found her.

Nick. He was the only one who knew about the tiara and journal and might be able to find her. She knew he did not love her, but had hoped he cared for her on some level. At least enough that he didn’t want her to die. She curled into a ball and chanted his name over and over in her mind, willing him to find her.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor. She held her breath. A key was inserted in the lock, the door creaked open, and footsteps neared the wardrobe. A rescuer wouldn’t have a key or know where she was. Her heart sank.

“Miss Malboeuf?” Lieutenant Galkin rapped on the front of the wardrobe. Her heart thumped unevenly, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “I trust you are enjoying the accommodations. Are you ready to tell me where the journal is, or would you like to stay in there all night?”

She fought to bring oxygen into her lungs.

“Miss Malboeuf?” He banged on the wardrobe again. “Have you died of fright? That would be rather inconvenient for me.”

She fumbled around in the dark as quietly as she could, searching for her knife. Her stiff fingers closed loosely over the handle, but it was a futile effort. A child could pull it from her frozen hand. “Let me out and I will tell you the location of the journal.”

“Tell me where the journal is and I will let you out.”

“N…n…no you won’t. I won’t talk until you l…let me out.”

“Then it seems that we are at an impasse.” His footsteps moved away. “I will come back later to see if you are ready to talk.”

“No! D…don’t leave me in here!”

…

That bastard.
Nick could hear everything from his position on the landing. Relief flooded his senses when he heard her voice, muffled though it was. He slipped down the corridor in the opposite direction and hid behind the door of an unlocked bedchamber. As soon as Galkin’s footfalls on the staircase retreated, he ran down the corridor. Dressed as he was to attend a ball, he had nothing with him to aid in unlocking the door. After making sure the area was empty, he kicked the door next to the lock. The wood cracked but the door didn’t open. He kicked it again with all of his concentrated fury. The door shattered and slammed into the wall.

A gust of cold air slammed against him. The bastard had left the window open. The bed linens were crumpled, but there was no sign of her.

“Catherine,
mon amour
, where are you?” A soft thump sounded from the wardrobe. His heart skipped a beat. Dear Lord, she must be overcome by terror.

“Hold on. I’ll get you out.” He scanned the room, searching for something to pry the door open. The fireplace poker. “Keep back from the door.” He slid the curved end of the poker between the doors and kicked the end of it until it slid into the gap, then pulled back. The wood bowed and popped back into place. He yanked again and removed a notch of wood. He kept working, tearing out chunks of wood. He moved the poker to just above the lock and yanked again and what was left of the door flew open. Catherine was huddled in the corner, her eyes closed. He scooped her up and cradled her in his arms.

The first priority was to warm her up. He dropped onto the bed and balanced her on his lap while he removed his coat. She wrapped her arms around his neck to steady herself against his movements and he breathed a sigh of relief. Covering her with his coat, he pulled her tight against his chest. She was so cold. Her slippers were shredded and stained with blood. He tightened his arms around her, intending to never let her go again. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he whispered against her temple.

“Y-you c-came,” she said, her voice raspy and hoarse.

“Of course I came.” And he was going to make Galkin pay for what he did to her. “We need to get out of here. Galkin could return at any moment.”

She nodded, still shivering.

“What happened to your feet?”

“I w-was t-trying to break the door.”

He wasn’t surprised. She was a tenacious little thing. It would be painful for her to walk, although they could move faster if he didn’t have to carry her. In any case, they needed to move. “Here,” he said, lifting the top of his coat, “put your arms in the sleeves so it won’t fall off.”

She did as he asked. He stood and carried her to the door, then checked in both directions before hurrying toward the staircase. They made it down one flight before running into Galkin on his way up. Nick moved off the staircase into the corridor and set Catherine down, shielding her behind him.

Galkin pulled a gun from his coat pocket and pointed it at Nick. “Stop right there.”

He held up a hand. “Lieutenant, you know as well as I do that you can’t fire that gun without drawing the attention of everyone downstairs.”

Galkin shook his head. “It is very noisy and crowded in the ballroom. You should not count on anyone noticing our goings-on up here.”

“What do you want?”

The gun wavered in his hand. “I want the diamond tiara. It rightly belongs to my family.”

“What tiara?” Nick asked, stalling for time.

“Don’t play the fool. It doesn’t become you.”

“If you are talking about the tiara that belonged to one of Catherine’s ancestors—”

“You know to what I refer. The tiara that was promised to my great-grandfather and instead given to that rutting bitch.” The gun wavered in his hand. “Bukov was his stepfather and the tiara had belonged to his mother. He was left with nothing.”

Catherine leaned around Nick to glare at Galkin. “You
did
know who Bukov was.”