The Black Duke's Prize (9 page)

"So," Nicholas muttered darkly, briefly wondering how the
Baron of Clarey had become involved in these shady dealings and what, exactly,
the attraction of Crestley Hall might be. Gladstone opened his mouth, but Nicholas
raised a hand. "And you are about to tell me that you could easily get to
the bottom of all of this."

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Don't," Varon said shortly. He was damned curious himself,
but Neville's instructions had been quite explicit, and he would honor them. To
a point.

"Well, you will be forced to find out eventually," Gladstone
said morosely. ''The boy must sign the deed. If the names are false, the paper
is worthless. At this point I'm not convinced that the document would be legal,
anyway."

Nicholas leaned forward. "You make certain it is legal, Gladstone.
When that deed comes into my hand, I want no one in England to be able to
contest it. Understand?"

"Your Grace, that may be close to impossible."

"That's what I pay you for, isn't it?"

Gladstone sighed. "Yes, Your Grace."

"It's a shame you left the Berresfords' early," Thomas
commented several hours later as the viscount rode beside him to Richmond Park.

"Oh," Nicholas asked innocently, "why is that?"

"Someone put a vase across Francis DuPres's skull."

"Really? Whatever for?" Innocence was something he was bad at,
Nicholas was finding, for he hadn't had much practice. Under any other
circumstances he wouldn't have given a second thought about claiming
responsibility for the deed himself. But Kate Ralston was right. There would be
a scandal, and while he had little to fear, she might be ruined. That hardly
seemed fair, when all she had done was show more spirit than any woman he had
ever met. He would keep her secret.

"He didn't say," Thomas answered slowly, looking at him
closely. "In fact, he claimed that he stumbled in the dark and pulled the
vase onto his own head."

Nicholas was surprised that DuPres hadn't arisen demanding
satisfaction. "Well, he's not the. most graceful man I've ever
encountered," he drawled. "Perhaps he was telling the truth."

"Yes, perhaps he was," Thomas agreed. The younger man fiddled
with his reins for a moment. "I did think it interesting, though, that
DuPres and Kate went out onto the balcony, and then you and she reemerged from
there several moments later and left." He spoke to his bay's neck, but
stiffened when Nicholas glanced over at him sharply.

"Oh, you did, did you?" he muttered.

"Yes."

"If you saw him and Miss Ralston leave the ballroom, then why
didn't you go after her?" he asked shortly. "You're the one who
warned me about DuPres."

"I was on my way over when you came back inside," Thomas
answered, looking hurt.

"You never should have let him near her in the first place,"
Nicholas went on, refusing to be appeased.

"I could say the same about you," Thomas retorted, redfaced.

Nicholas sneered. "Jealous, are we? Don't worry, Thomas. She's too
innocent for me."

Thomas flushed. "She asks about you, you know," he said
abruptly, and kicked his horse into a canter as they reached the boundary of
the park. "You're hard to compete with when you're not even around to show
her your bad side," he said over his shoulder.

Nicholas couldn't stop the amused smile that quirked his lips for a
moment as he kneed his own coal black stallion and caught up to the viscount.
So she asked about him, did she? Perhaps she wasn't as immune to his charms as
she apparently wanted him to think. "I see you didn't take my advice about
that nag," he noted, attempting to change the subject. "What's his
name, Orchid?"

"Orpheus," Thomas corrected hotly. "And I'd pit him
against your bad-tempered brute any time."

"Orpheus against Ulysses? An epic battle indeed," Varon
commented dryly.

Thomas snorted, then grinned reluctantly. "Odious fellow," he
muttered. "Fifty pounds says my hero can beat yours. To Darby Bridge,
say."

The small wooden bridge was approximately a mile and a half distance
across the park, and Nicholas nodded. "Call it," he said, drawing in
the reins.

"Now!" Thomas shouted without warning, and was off like a
shot.

Undaunted, the duke kicked the black in the ribs. The powerful muscles
tensed beneath him as the horse surged forward. He leaned over the sleek neck
and gave the animal its head. Three-quarters of the way to the bridge they had
caught the bay. By the time they reached the creek Nicholas was a length ahead.

The black wanted to keep going, but he drew it in and circled around to
face the panting viscount. "Fifty pounds, Thomas," he said. "How
much did you pay for that thing, anyway?"

"Oh, shut up, Nick," Thomas snapped. "One of these days
you are going to lose, you know."

"Perhaps," Nicholas replied, amused. "But not
today."

8

U
ncle
Simon didn't write back. Kate hadn't really expected that he would, but
foolish as it was, she couldn't help but hope. She considered returning home,
but even being at Crestley would do little to keep it safe from him. Instead
she made an appointment with Lord Neville's solicitor and asked him to look
into the matter.

Mr. Hodges had looked at her askance when she walked into his offices,
but once she had explained who she was and that she would be able to pay him
for his troubles, he agreed to send someone to see if any paper work had been
filed in Staffordshire. It took most of the money she had been able to bring
with her, but as the Hamptons insisted that she was part of the family and had
been paying all of her bills, she was willing to make the expenditure. If she
could hold on to Crestley for two more years, she would need to rely on no one
for anything.

Two days after the Berresford ball the Dowager Duchess of Sommesby sent
an invitation for Lady Alison and Kate to come for afternoon tea. Though she
gladly accepted, the invitation made Kate a bit nervous. If Lady Julia should
ask questions about the incident at the ball, she would feel compelled to
answer them, and she didn't want to. She still wasn't certain what had
possessed her to go out onto the secluded balcony with anyone, much less
Francis DuPres, and would have preferred to forget the entire incident.

When they reached the courtyard of the duchess's magnificent town
house, the sight of a beautiful high-perch racing phaeton in the drive
increased Kate's anxiety. "Do you think she has other visitors?" she
asked Lady Alison as they were handed out of the Hampton carriage by the
footman.

"Julia said it was to be just us. We haven't had a chance to talk
lately, and she told me she wanted a good coze."

"Are you certain you want me along, then?" Katherine asked,
half-hoping her godmother would send her back to Hampton House.

Lady Alison took her hand and squeezed it. "Nonsense. Julia
wouldn't have invited you if she didn't want you to come. You know that,
child."

"Yes, Lady Alison," she answered dutifully, not much
reassured.

When they were led into the drawing room, there was indeed no one there
but Lady Julia, and Kate relaxed a little. If there were going to be
questions, at least there would be no one else to overhear. To her surprise,
though, the Dowager Duchess said nothing about what had transpired at the
ball. Instead they spent a delightful time discussing everything from Paris
fashions to literature.

"I heard that you have an impressive collection of Shakespeare
quartos," Kate said, holding up a tray of tea cakes for Lady Alison.

"Yes. My son has been trying to buy, borrow, or steal them away
from me for years. But I have resisted all of his offers. It is the one way I
can be assured that he will come to visit me." She smiled and motioned toward
the door. "They are in the library, if you wish to see them."

"Are you certain?" Katherine asked, rising.

"Mais oui.
We mature women have things to
discuss, anyway. You will fmd the library two doors down on the left."

''Thank you, Your Grace."

The library door was closed, but she pushed it open and stepped inside.
The first thing that caught her eye was a pair of gleaming black calf-length
Hessian boots crossed at the ankles and stretched out in front of one of the
chairs by the window. Curious, she stepped quietly forward to see the Duke of
Sommesby, an open book propped against his chest and a glass of brandy in his
free hand.

He was reading, and she studied his profile. The Black Duke looked
relaxed, and judging from the curve of his lips he was enjoying whatever it was
that he was reading. He was dressed in blue and gray, his cravat elegant yet
simple, in a style she much admired and that she had frequently seen followers
of the Black Duke affect.

Without warning he turned his head and looked up at her, and she saw
surprise and pleasure in his eyes, quickly blanketed. "Katherine," he
said, setting aside the book and coming to his feet.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, taking a step back
to look up at him. "Your mother invited Lady Alison and me over for
tea," she explained, abruptly feeling as though she had to justify her
presence in his mother's library.

"Oh, she did, did she?" he muttered so quietly that she barely
caught the words.

"I remembered what you had said about the quartos. She said I might
come and look at them," Katherine went on defiantly,

"You do like Shakespeare," he commented, setting the brandy
snifter down as well.

"Did you think I was lying?" she asked indignantly.

Teddy, the vicar's son back at Crestley, had called her a bluestocking
on more than one occasion because of her fondness for the bard, but the duke
did not seem overly concerned with the conventions of polite society.

He raised a hand. "I would not accuse a woman with eyes as blue as
yours of lying," he said softly.

"Which is to say that if my eyes were brown you would think me a
liar?" she asked innocently.

His laughter surprised her. He had a merry laugh and an attractive
smile, and the green highlights in his eyes twinkled as he gazed at her.
"I won't apologize for the compliment," he said after a moment,
turning half away, "but I concede the point."

She hadn't expected him to give in, and was disappointed that he had
done so. "Quitter," she muttered, and he froze and turned back to
her.

"Beg pardon?" he returned, raising an eyebrow.

"I said you were a quitter," she repeated, quite embarrassed
that he had heard her. She would have to remember to mutter more quietly in his
presence.

"Do you, perchance, speak to the Viscount of Sheresford―and
your other male acquaintances in the same flattering manner with which you
have honored me?" he queried, not looking offended at all.

"No."

He nodded, pursing his lips. "I thought not." She expected
more, but instead he walked over to the near comer of the library and motioned
her to follow him. "How goes the conspiracy?" he queried over his
shoulder.

"No one seems to know," she answered, and cocked her head at
him. "You didn't speak to Lady Julia about it."

He stopped and turned around. "Of course not. She knows merely that
DuPres had a slight . . . accident." With a grin he turned away. "Has
he bothered you?"

She shook her head. "I've not even seen him."

"Good. You let me know if he approaches you."

Kate stopped and put her hands on her hips. "Are you my protector
now, Your Grace?" she queried. "Because I assure you, I don't need
one."

The Black Duke leaned against the shelf behind him. "What do you
need, Katherine?" he asked quietly, folding his arms over his chest.

The serious look in his eyes surprised her. It was on the tip of her
tongue to say, "Crestley Hall," but then he would think that she was
a helpless female in need of rescuing. "What everyone needs, I
suppose," she answered. "Love, friendship, laughter, kindness."
She smiled selfconsciously, thinking what a goosecap he must fmd her.
"And chocolate creams."