The Dastardly Duke (3 page)

“That is precisely why I thought you would enjoy the company of a young woman nearer your own age,” Julian said smoothly. “Miss”—he racked his brain for the woman’s name and hoped the one that popped into his head was correct— “Miss Gregory is most interesting.”

“Oh?” Her blue eyes clouded with suspicion. “Interesting enough to be your latest mistress?”

Julian arched a brow. “One of these days, you are going to regret that lively tongue of yours. She is nothing to me other than a chance to provide you with relief from Aunt Eleanor’s company—and,” he added as inspiration suddenly struck, “a chance to assist a friend.”

“A friend? Who might that be?”

“
Tremaine.” Julian took satisfaction in laying some of this mess at Charles’s door. If it made more difficulties for his friend’s suit, so be it. Charles had not exactly dealt from the top of the deck in this wager.

Lucy frowned. “What has Charles to do with this?”

More than you know, Julian wanted to reply, but he merely pretended to inspect the sleeve of his jacket. “She is one of his distant relations,” he lied. “Her family could not afford to give her a season—and neither could Charles,” he could not resist adding, “so I agreed to take her on, on your behalf. I felt sure you would not turn away a needy young lady who, but for the accident of her lack of fortune, would have already made her come-out and be dancing alongside you this very night.”

The words rolled easily off his tongue, with the intended effect.

“Well,” Lucy began uncertainly, “if she is a relative of Charles’s, I suppose she is quite acceptable. How kind of him to think of helping a distant connection.”

Too late, Julian saw that his improvised tale had given Lucy a new appreciation of Charles’s sterling qualities. “She will need coaching, I am afraid,” he added, intent on taking some of the bloom off that particular rose. “She is not accustomed to society and has no notion of how to go on.”

Lucy tilted her head consideringly. “My own age, you say?”

Julian hesitated. Women like Miss Gregory undoubtedly aged rather rapidly. Still, the woman had not looked much above twenty. “She may be a year or two older. But do not take her age for experience,” he warned. At least not the sort of experience society valued. “We will both have to work to help her fit in.”

“
We
?”
Lucy eyed him suspiciously. “I do not believe I have ever known you to take an interest in any woman who was not your—”

“Why must you think that I have any ulterior motive?” Julian scowled.

“Because you invariably do,” she replied cheerfully.

If he had possessed a conscience, it might have bothered him, but Julian had no difficulty meeting Lucy’s gaze and assuring her straight-facedly of his impartiality as to the fate of Miss Hannah Gregory. “My only interest is in helping an unfortunate member of Tremaine’s family. The young woman is deaf, you see.”

Lucy blinked.
“
Deaf?
Oh, dear, Julian. How can you expect that she will be able to attend parties and dance and converse with the gentlemen?”

“I said she is deaf, not feebleminded. She reads lips and is otherwise as normal as any other young lady.”

Other than being a prostitute, Julian mentally amended. Not for the first time he wondered whether he was mad to take such a woman on.

Pushing the thought from his head, he regarded his sister without guile. “Do you intend to allow her unfortunate disability to stand in the way of your acceptance?”

Lucy colored. “I should not like to think of myself as subject to unreasonable prejudices, but there are others who will have difficulty accepting Miss Gregory. Including Aunt Eleanor, I imagine.”

“All the more reason for yo
u
to stand as Miss Gregory’s supporter.” Julian gave her an encouraging look.

“Yes ... of course,” Lucy said slowly, smiling. “Indeed, I believe Miss Gregory and I shall be great friends.”

Julian nodded gravely. “That is precisely what I had hoped.”

Chapter
Three

“
A
relative of
mine
?”
Aghast, Charles stared at him.

Idly Julian watched the view out the window, where the denizens were subjecting his coach and four to great scrutiny. It was not often that such a fine vehicle made its way through this part of town. “Cheer up, Charles. This knowledge that you are aiding a poor relation caused your estimation to soar in Lucy’s eyes.”

“Truly?” The baronet frowned uncertainly.

“Most assuredly.”

Charles looked dubious. “But if I cooperate in your lies, I would be working against my own interests.”

“Not at all,” Julian replied in a bored tone. “You need merely refrain from contradicting my assertions regarding Miss Gregory’s background. You did promise not to sabotage my effort, if you recall.”

“Why do I have the feeling I am outgunned?” Charles crossed his arms and sighed.

“Oh, come, Charles,” Julian said scornfully. ‘The odds are very much on your side.
I
am the one who must turn a deaf whore into a paragon of ladylike behavior.”

But Charles sank into a glum reverie that did not dissipate until the carriage stopped outside the gloomy and forbidding Lock Hospital. “Miss Gregory seems rather genteel to be in such a place, does she not?”

Julian’s lips curled. “You know as well as I that the cleverest of her breed are skilled at conveying the notion they are better than they are. It is precisely that quality in her that gives my scheme any hope of succeeding.”

Charles fell silent as an attendant let them past the sharp iron gates that kept the world out and the women in. “Come on,” Julian urged as they strode into the building. “I daresay your poor relative is eager to be off.”

“Do you think she will go along with your sto
r
y?”

“A woman in her position will do anything as long as it comes with a bit of gold,” Julian replied with a smirk as the door to Reverend McGougal’s dingy office opened.

Hannah Gregory was sitting with the minister, her hands crossed gracefully in her lap. She wore a plain blue walking dress that Julian had sent ahead, along with a straw bonnet and plain gray gloves.

Plain suited her, Julian decided, pleasantly surprised at how much she looked the part of a poor but respectable young lady come to town to acquire some polish and find a husband. Perhaps his task would not be so difficult after all. There was no coarseness about her. Indeed, she looked thoroughly out of place in this godforsaken hospital.

But as greetings were exchanged, Miss Gregory displayed no particular gratitude at the prospect of being rescued from this hellish place. Instead, she remained stiffly in her chair, unsmiling.

“I must insist that you tell me precisely what my duties will be, Your Grace,” she said.

Annoyed by the challenge in her voice, Julian fixed her with a cool gaze. “I have already explained that you will be assisting my sister. Do not be concerned,” he added dryly. “The position pays quite well.”

The somber eyes studied his face intently. “But what, precisely, am I to assist her with?” she persisted. “The household, her correspondence, her wardrobe?”

He waved a dismissive hand. “We will discuss that later.”

She did not look away. “I fear it must be now, or I will not be able to leave with you after all.”

Julian’s eyes narrowed. “What did you say?”

The ominous tone in his voice prompted Reverend McGougal’s hasty intervention. “Although Hannah realizes how fortunate she and the hospital are to have your patronage,” he assured Julian, “she has some concerns about going to live in the household of an unmarried peer.” He gave Julian an ingra
ti
ating smile. “Perhaps you can reassure her that there will be no improprieties.”

“No improprieties!” Julian echoed, glaring at the woman in stunned disbelief. “Does she think she is the queen herself instead of a whore with no better fate than meeting a syphilitic’s death in a madhouse?”

The minister paled. Miss Gregory gasped. Slowly, she rose to face him. “I have every right to question your motives,” she said in a trembling voice. No tears spilled from her eyes, however, to his great relief. He detested women who cried to get their way.

Indeed, though her eyes shimmered with moisture, there was a decidedly mulish glint in those gray depths. “Only a fool would move into the home of a notorious libertine without receiving some assurances that she will remain unmolested,” she stated firmly.

Julian arched a brow. “I gather you have learned a bit about me since last we spoke.”

A flush sprang to her cheeks. “Your reputation is well known. Even within these walls
—especially
within these walls.”

That information surprised him. To be sure, his reputation was widespread among the
ton,
but he had not imagined himself so notorious as to come to the attention of the class of women that plied the streets. Somehow, the thought unsettled him. He regarded her coldly.

“I do not frequent prostitutes. If you are entertaining any hopes along those lines, I would advise you to forget it. Your presence in my household is for another purpose entirely.” Daggers shot from her eyes, but if thoughts could kill, he would have cocked up his toes long ago. Julian returned her murderous gaze with cool contempt.

Nervously, Reverend McGougal rubbed his hands together. He looked from Julian to his charge. “Now, Hannah. Let us not offend His Grace. As you can see, everything is on the up and up. This is a wonderful opportunity, a godsend. Why, the other girls would dearly love to be in your shoes.”

“Would they?” She tilted her head.

“How can you look at those new clothes of yours and doubt it?” Reverend McGougal replied reproachfully. “His Grace has been most generous, and his sister must be the soul of piety to offer to take one such as you to her bosom. Whatever tasks she sets for you can never begin to repay such generosity.”

“Nevertheless,” she replied stubbornly, “I should like to know what will be expected of me.”

Charles tried to stifle his laughter. “Your lump of clay is rather determined,” he observed.

Miss Gregory remained motionless, unaware that Charles had spoken. Looking into her intent, unsmiling features, Julian tried to remember what about the woman had persuaded him to accept her on the basis of that first meeting. Was it that spirit he had seen—which on second inspection now appeared to be decidedly inconvenient rebelliousness?

Why the devil had he taken that ridiculous bet anyway? He had no hankering for Charles’s matched bays, which was the only decent team his friend owned. He could buy a splendid pair for
hims
elf anytime he wished.

To be sure, the wager offered a diverting distraction from confronting the dilemma of his birth. And Miss Gregory certainly presented an intriguing challenge. But there was something else at work here, he realized as he stared into her defiant features. If the
ton
could be fooled into accepting a whore as a lady, then whore or lady, bastard or duke—what did it matter? The blood that ran in his veins—and hers—was as good as those whose right to their titles would never be challenged.

In passing Hannah Gregory off as a lady, he would prove that breeding was not a measure of worth. In an odd way he did not care to fully understand, succeeding with this wench would restore some of the manhood his father had stolen with his dying breath.

“Miss Gregory,” he began, as her gaze bored into his, “my sister is a spirited young woman. The only other female in our household is our aunt Lucy needs a companion near her own age.”

“But why me?” She eyed him distrustfully. “There must be many women who would love such a position. I cannot imagine why you would wish to have your sister befriend a person of my situation and background.”

She had a point, of course. “My sister is a bit
too
spirited,” he improvised, seizing on a sudden idea. “I fear she will do something rash.”

“You do?” Charles frowned.

Julian shrugged. “Lucy has a wild side to her nature. She is especially curious about certain
... matters that are not appropriate for a young lady.”

Charles gave him a speaking look, as if to say that Lucy’s exposure to any inappropriate behavior could be laid squarely at Julian’s door. Julian ignored him.

“I fear it is only a matter of time before she indulges her curiosity and ruins her reputation,” he added mournfully.

Reverend McGougal made a sorrowful, tsk-tsking sound.

“I can think of no one better suited to recognize the warning signs than a woman whose pandering to the delights of the flesh brought her to a sorry pass,” Julian finished, quite pleased at his logic.

“I see.” Miss Gregory’s voice was brittle. “I am to serve an example of how
not
to be.”

“Oh, she will not know of your true circumstances,” Julian assured her.

Miss Gregory frowned. “I am afraid I do not understand. You wish me to serve as an example of how not to go on, and yet you do not plan to tell her who I am?”

“Precisely,” Julian replied, as a loudly clearing throat told him that Charles thought he had woven an impossible web of lies. “You will be brought into the household as Sir Charles’s poor relation whom we are assisting in making her come-out.”

She eyed him in astonishment. “I must have mistaken your words. I thought you said that I was to make my come-out.”

Julian nodded. “As is my sister. You will be able to monitor her behavior and provide a credible foil to any wild actions that might pop into her head.”

“But, surely, your aunt can provide any guidance your sister requires,” Miss Gregory said, bewildered.

“Our aunt is a curmudgeon,” Julian replied bluntly, knowing that in this, at least, he spoke the truth. “Whatever Aunt Eleanor decrees, Lucy is sure to do the opposite. My sister is something of a rebel.”

“Oh, unwise tempestuousness of youth,” Reverend McGougal murmured.

“Despite
you ...
occupation, Miss Gregory”—Julian continued, reining in his distaste for the minister’s platitudes—“you seem to have a sober nature. I expect you will provide a steadying influence on my sister.”

In the corner of the room, Charles sat red-faced, though whether from suppressed laughter or outrage, Julian could not tell. He suspected it was the former. Both of them knew that while Lucy and Aunt Eleanor had indeed clashed, there was no one possessed of more common sense than Lucy. Julian did not for a moment
think
that Lucy’s spirited nature would lead her into committing any unwise act. But his tale was having its intended effect. Reverend McGougal nodded his approval.

“Just think, Hannah, dear, you will have the opportunity of redeeming yourself by your good works. It is the fervent hope of every fallen soul.”

Miss Gregory frowned. “There is something about this, Reverend, that does not seem quite right.”

“Did I mention that I will pay you five hundred pounds?” Julian added pleasantly.

“My word!” Reverend McGougal gasped. Miss Gregory eyed him blankly. Julian wondered whether she had understood.

“Five hundred pounds,” he said slowly.

Vaguely, she nodded. Her face bore a troubled expression. Julian had expected the mention of such a sum to erase all doubt from her face. “Five hundred pounds,” he repeated, even more slowly. Perhaps Miss Gregory’s skills at lipreading did not extend to numbers.

“I am not an imbecile,” she said sharply. “I understand that you mean to pay me five hundred pounds to pretend to be someone I am not in order to keep your sister from coming to harm because of what you would have me believe is her wild nature. You wish me to lie to her in hopes the means will justify the end result.”

“Now, Hannah,” Reverend McGougal said coaxingly, “you do not think I would urge you to do anything immoral?”

“Forgive me, Reverend, if I remain incredulous that the duke thinks it fitting and sensible to hire one such as me to
guard his sister. That he is prepared to pay such an exorbitant sum merely fuels my suspicions that he has some ulterior motive.”

As Charles made a strangled sound, Julian whirled on the hapless minister. “You assured me that this woman had a biddable disposition,” he said accusingly.

“Compared to some of the other patients, she is docile indeed,” McGougal began, but Julian made a sound of disgust and the minister quickly retreated into silence. Julian turned to discover Miss Gregory regarding him grimly.

“I have seen the world, Your Grace,” she said. “It is not a place where miracles occur. When a man offers a woman a great deal of money for something, he is invariably not driven by altruism.”

His patience for this game vanished. “What does it matter?” His gaze was as hard as stone. “You need the money, do you not? Women like you always do.”

Suddenly all the life was gone from those gray eyes. Defeat suffused her features. She sank into a chair.

“Yes,” she said in a dull voice. “Oh, yes.”