The Black Duke's Prize (4 page)

"'Kind has
nothing to do with it, child. Your mother was my closest friend, and I loved
her dearly. You are her daughter, and I love you as well. Whatever happens to
Crestley Hall, our home is yours. You are our daughter now."

Again tears
came to Kate's eyes. "Thank you both," she managed to say brokenly.

Lady Alison
patted her hand. "You must be exhausted, child. I'll show you to your
bedchamber." The baroness stood, pulling Katherine up after her, and led
her from the room.

Katherine felt
completely spent, and could barely keep her eyes open as they climbed the
stairs. The room Alison showed her was decorated in greens and whites and lit
by a small, cheerful fire. As she looked around the chamber Katherine realized
that tears had begun flowing down her face.

"Are you
all right?" the baroness asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.

Katherine
nodded. "I only just realized how good it is to be with friends
again," she said with a sigh.

"We let
you stay away far too long," Alison murmured, hugging her again.
"Shall I send my maid to you?"

"No, I can
do for myself," Katherine answered, nearly crossing her eyes in an effort
to keep them open.

Lady Alison
nodded. "Sleep well, Kate." She smiled, and leaned over to kiss
Katherine on the cheek. "And have no worries. You may stay with Neville
and me for as long as you wish."

After two full
days of shopping and sightseeing, Katherine very nearly felt like her old
self. Lady Alison had secured an invitation for her to join them at the Albey
ball, and she looked forward to it with some excitement. There hadn't been much
occasion for her to dance lately. Hampton House was beautiful, and it reminded
her of Crestley in .the old days, before her father's death. The danger now was
that she would find it so pleasant that she would forget the damage probably
even at that moment being done to her home. She renewed her vow that she would
let no harm come to Crestley, and she sent off a determinedly friendly letter
to her uncle, mostly to see if he would respond.

She was
surprised and pleased to discover that Lord Neville had hired a maid for her.
The first gown she and Lady Alison had ordered arrived from the dressmaker's,
and just before dusk she summoned Emmie to help her dress. That accomplished,
she seated herself at the dressing table while the maid attempted to draw her
hair back to fasten it in a bun at her neck.

"Miss
Kate," the slim, brown-eyed girl stated after several minutes of
struggling, ''your hair seems to have a mind of its own. I get one part up and
the other side escapes."

"I know."
Katherine sighed. "I can never get it to do what I want." Lately she
had settled for jamming a bonnet down over it and hoping that no one would
notice the straying strands.

"Well, let's try something else, then." Emmie picked up the
two silver clips they had purchased the day before and pulled the sides back
with them. The rest of Katherine's hair cascaded down her back in a heavy black
waterfall, through which Emmie wove a thin silver ribbon. Finally the maid
stepped back. "My," she breathed after a moment. "I think
you'll do fine."

Katherine
turned to look full into the mirror, and was startled by what she saw. She had
dressed in finery before, but for perhaps the first time in her life she felt
beautiful. The dark blue in the gown exactly matched the color of her eyes, and
her skin seemed to glow with the sudden rush of excitement that ran through
her.

"Emmie,"
she said, sitting straighter, ''that brown box in the top dresser drawer―will
you bring it to me, please?"

The maid did as
she was bid, and Katherine opened the lid to pull out a single strand of
milky-white pearls. They had been her mother's, and Emmie sighed again as she
helped Katherine fasten them around her neck.

''That's
perfection, Miss Kate," she said, dimpling. "Well, I don't know about
that, but thank you."

When she made
her way downstairs a few moments later Katherine was greeted with similar words
from her godparents. Tears formed in Lady Alison's eyes, and Kate rushed over
to her. ''What is it?"

Her godmother
took her hand and squeezed it. ''Nothing
 
child. It's just that you look so like your
mother. You are a beauty."

Lord Neville
cleared his throat. "Come, ladies. I will be the envy of every man present
tonight, for the two most beautiful women in London arrive with me."

Twenty-five
minutes later, Lord Neville was introducing Katherine to Lord James Albey and
his wife, Cassia, their host and hostess for the evening. And then, her hand on
Lord Neville's arm, she was led into the ballroom. She had received permission
to waltz during her truncated Season, and Lady Alison had procured a dance card
for her, but as she knew no one she didn't hold much hope that she would be
asked onto the floor. Instead she stood with her godparents watching the
crowded room and the dancers stepping gracefully about the highly polished
floor.

"Alison."

Katherine
turned when Alison did, to face the voice. A petite, dark-haired woman dressed
in an elegant emerald gown approached them, a smile on her face.
"Julia," Alison responded warmly, and grasped the small woman's
outstretched hands. "I missed you at Vauxhall last week."

The woman
laughed. "When was the last time you did see me at Vauxhall, eh?"

The accent was
faintly French, and Katherine looked at her curiously. As though sensing the
attention, the woman turned to face her. Katherine was struck by the unusual
dark-gray eyes that seemed to hold emerald highlights.

"Who is
your friend, Alison?"

"Who does
she remind you of?" Lady Alison responded, urging Katherine forward.

The scrutiny made
Katherine a bit uncomfortable, for she had the abrupt impression that the woman
saw a great deal more than she might have wished. After a moment the gray eyes
widened. "Anne Ralston's daughter?" she asked, and Katherine nodded.

"Kate, may
I present the Duchess of Sommesby? Julia Varon, Katherine Ralston."

"I believe
the correct term is 'Dowager Duchess,' " Julia corrected with a
good-humored frown.

"I am
pleased to meet you, Your Grace," Katherine said with a smile, curtseying.

The Dowager Duchess smiled at her, then stiffened as her eyes shifted to
someone approaching them from behind. "Pah, it is that
chien,
Francis
DuPres."

Curious at the
duchess's offended tone, Katherine turned to face the short man approaching
them. If they hadn't been at a gathering of London's
haut ton,
she would
have thought him some sort of street performer, for he was clothed in a garish
yellow jacket and waistcoat, while
 
his
breeches were a light lime green. The points of his shirt were nearly high
enough to cover his ears, and he had an ugly purple bruise on his chin.

"Clarey,"
the man said with a nod at Lord Neville, then turned his close-set brown eyes
on the duchess. "Your Grace," he drawled, his tone insulting.

"Go away,
little man," she replied, and Alison sucked in her breath.

The tension
around them abruptly escalated, and others were beginning to look their way.
"Please forgive my forwardness, Baroness," the man said to Alison,
ignoring the duchess, "but I simply had to know who this lovely creature
was." With that he reached out to take Katherine's hand and brushed it
with his lips.

Alison glanced
over at the duchess, who shrugged, her lips tight. "Mr. DuPres, my
goddaughter, Katherine Ralston. Kate, Mr. Francis DuPres."

"Miss
Ralston, I am delighted to meet you."

"Thank
you," Kate replied, trying to tug her hand free without being obvious
about it.

"Now will
you go away?" the duchess hissed.

"Not until
our charming Miss Ralston agrees to grant me this dance," DuPres replied,
looking at Katherine expectantly.

Kate didn't
know what to do. What little she had seen of this man she didn't like, and she
had no wish to insult Julia Varon, but neither did she want to be in the middle
of the shouting match that she sensed might erupt if DuPres and the Dowager Duchess
remained in close proximity. Abruptly the empty dance card was pulled out of
her hand.

"Sorry,
DuPres," an unfamiliar male voice said from behind her, ''this dance is
mine."

Katherine
turned quickly to see a tall, raven-haired man scrutinizing her dance card. He
glanced over at her speculatively with dark-gray eyes that held green
highlights, much like Julia Varon's. He was broad-shouldered and lean and was
dressed all in black, from his top boots to his exquisitely tailored jacket,
with only a foamy white cravat and shirt to contrast the starkness. The effect
was strikingly handsome, as was the man who affected it.

"Yes,
'fraid so, DuPres, my name's first." The stranger looked down to further
examine the card, again giving her a quick, unreadable glance. "In fact, I
don't see your name here at all."

"I have
requested a dance," DuPres spat out, and reached for the card.

The stranger
returned it smoothly to Kate. "So sorry, then. Her card's full, and you're
not on it." Before she could say a word, he took her hand and led her onto
the dance floor as the orchestra struck up a waltz.

Whoever her
rescuer was, he was a graceful dancer. It took a moment for what had happened
to sink in, it had all occurred so quickly. One moment she was trying to find a
way to avoid dancing with Francis DuPres, and the next she was waltzing with a
complete stranger.

''Thank
you," she said after a moment.

The eyes that
had been gazing across the floor shifted back to her. "For what?"

"I had no
desire to dance with him." She glanced over to where DuPres stood glaring
at them. There was an empty space around him, as though no one wanted to be
associated with him.

"I didn't
do it for you," he responded rudely, looking away again, his expression
bored. "I did it to save my mother from embarrassment."

He was Julia
Varon's son, then, as she had suspected. "Which was why I didn't want to
dance with Mr. DuPres myself," she noted, for the moment ignoring his lack
of manners.

The unusual
eyes returned to her. "What is your name?" he drawled.

"Katherine
Ralston," she replied. "And yours?" She had been hearing more
than enough rumors since her arrival in London to be fairly certain of his
identity, but he should at least have had the courtesy to introduce himself.

"Nicholas Varon,"
he answered promptly. "What is your relationship to Neville and Alison
Hampton?"

"They are
my godparents," she replied, trying to keep from staring at him. This was
the Black Duke of Sommesby she was dancing with, who had knocked out someone,
probably Francis DuPres, at White's, and who had nearly started a duel in
someone's ballroom over his mistress. Her maid had mentioned other things,
which at the moment she was too rattled to recall.

"And how
do you know Francis DuPres?" he pursued, either not noticing or ignoring
her discomfiture.

"I only
met him five minutes ago," she answered, the aloof, direct questions and
the light, skillful touch of his hand on the small of her back beginning to
annoy her despite her trepidation. "What is your relationship to Mr.
DuPresT'

"None of
your business," he said flatly, looking away again.
       
.

That wasn't
very polite, and neither was the way he kept looking about the room, barely
paying attention to her or to the dance. "It was quite insightful of me to
include your name at the top of my dance card, don't you think?" she
asked, her Irish temper beginning to flare.

Once again the
eyes met hers, and this time she thought she saw a brief look of appreciation
touch them. It was gone before she could be certain. "Indeed it was. Quite
impressive."

"Yes,"
she agreed. "I only hope the rest of my choices are as impressive."

"Miss
Ralston, I really don't care who you find to fill the remainder of your dance
card," he said, apparently tiring completely of his role as rescuer.
"I told you my reasons for bringing you out here."

"Of
course, Your Grace," she answered, with admirable calm, she thought.
"But, you see, while your problem has been solved, mine remains. I still
do not wish to dance with Mr. DuPres, and you have informed him that I will be
partnered for the entire evening. You have made one of us into a liar."

"Good
God," he muttered under his breath. Apparently she had his attention now.
"Don't you wish to speak about the weather or the latest Paris fashion or
some such thing?"

"No."

The music
ended, and she turned away from him to join in the general applause as he
rather abruptly released her. Lady Alison beckoned to her from the far side of
the room, and she started over. She had taken no more than a step or two when
her hand was taken and tucked around a strong, black-clothed forearm.