The Dastardly Duke (5 page)

Miss Gregory was no accepting young woman undyingly grateful for her salvation. Even though he knew she must needs stare to read lips, it was impossible to miss the challenge in that unflinching gaze. All in all, she was about as biddable as a crocodile. And he was stuck with her for as long as it took to give her a prayer of pretending to be a lady.

Otherwise, he supposed she was a decent candidate for respectability. In that plain gown, her figure looked fine enough, without the coarseness or voluptuousness of others in her trade. Her grooming was inoffensive, even a bit severe. He had never cared for women who hid their hair under caps and bonnets as if it were something to be ashamed of. A woman’s hair was never more glorious than when flowing loose over her bare shoulders in all its seductive splendor. He could not even guess the color of this woman’s hair, so rigorously did she discipline it under that straw bonnet.

Julian knew that Charles thought he could not keep his hands off any female for more than an hour, but Miss Gregory was not to his tastes. Accustomed as he was to
takin
g
his pleasure where he found it, Julian had never cared for the mercenary nature of the pleasures one purchased from whores. He preferred to employ the seductive skills honed to perfection over the years. He knew that women were drawn to him and was pleased to reward their adoration with his considerable talents. He did not care to examine the reasons he chose to validate his seductive skills again and again.

Yes, the only hand he would lay on Miss Gregory was the firm one needed to school an untamed filly to the bit. As long as he took care to remember that the filly was likely as not to bite, he would be prepared.

Eyeing the stone house that had never before seemed so confining, Julian allowed a cynical smile to hover at the
corner
of his mouth. At least there was nothing boring about the task ahead.

“My sister will not expect you to possess an elegant wardrobe, only a respectable one. I have taken the liberty of procuring a few simple frocks that will suit you. You will oblige me by trying them on.”

Hannah swallowed the biting retort that hovered at the tip of her tongue and obligingly retreated to her little alcove to obey the duke’s imperial edict. The man was truly insufferable, apparently assuming he had purchased the right to order her about as if she were his slave. At least he stepped outside to afford her some privacy.

Fatigue filled her. Her last night at the hospital had been a sleepless one, as the prospect of leaving with the duke had kept her awake and worried. Since their arrival hours ago, he had done nothing but bark orders. Now it was nearly dusk. She wished for nothing so much as a nap and a decent meal, but he would view any request for a break as a sign of weakness. That, she would never show him.

Hannah shrugged into the first of the dresses from the little trunk. Since she had never had the luxury of a maid, she was accustomed to doing for herself and managed the task quite easily.

Surprisingly, the duke’s tastes seemed to match her own. The bottle-green walking dress bore none of the elaborate decorations she had always abhorred in the fashions her aunt had tried to force upon her. It was a simple frock of serviceable broadcloth that would keep her warm and unrumpled in town. There was a lilac morning dress in airy muslin, a plain dimity gown in a muted print, and a simple cotton calico in a tiny blue-and-white check.

As she modeled the dresses, the duke nodded his approval, no doubt congratulating himself on his skill at guessing her size, for they all fit perfectly. Hannah supposed that he was more than familiar with ladies’ fashions, but even though his taste was excellent, it was utterly humiliating to be regarded as chattel for him to dress as he wished.

He seemed surprised at the ease with which she wore the gowns. Perhaps he figured she did not know how to arrange the fichu of her morning dress so that it covered her neck and shoulders modestly. Since he undoubtedly assumed that modesty was unknown to a woman of her background, it pleased her to confound his expectations.

But when she picked up the only evening attire he had bought her, Hannah groaned in dismay. It was a high-waisted gown made of a delicate batiste and cut rather low in front. Nearly two dozen tiny buttons in the back were necessary to create the figure-hugging neckline and to make certain it remained in place.

Hannah knew she would never manage the dress alone, but she was not about to ask the duke for assistance. The thought of having his fingers fiddling with all those buttons against her bare back mortified her. Hannah placed the batiste gown back in the trunk and put on the plain blue dress she had worn upon leaving the hospital.

When she called to let him know that she was presentable once more, he came back into the cottage.

“What about the other?” he demanded, eyeing the blue dress in surprise. “The evening gown?”

Hannah lifted her chin mulishly. “It needs a maid to get it on properly. As there is not one about, you will have to wait to see it another time.” She could not prevent a flush from staining her cheeks.

“I am perfectly capable of assisting you—” he insisted, then broke off as she reddened. He smirked. “I collect that you would have me believe modesty prevents you from allowing such a thing, but that will not wash, Miss Gregory. I have never met a modest whore.” He laughed at his own joke, but his expression bore no true mirth.

It was too much.

Hannah whirled away so that whatever other hateful things he said would be lost to her. She had no idea whether he was still speaking when she strode past him out of the house, rage and humiliation driving her feet over the little stone path and deep into the thick, dark woods.

Chapter
Five

Not only was the woman stubborn, she possessed a strangely delicate sensibility for a prostitute. Now he would have to go beating the woods for her, when all he really wanted to do was retire to a
corner
and lose the day’s difficulties in a decent bot
tl
e of wine.

Wearily, Julian stared out the door. Night was descending. The forest would soon be an impenetrable thicket of darkness. His hot-tempered
protégé
e had picked a devil of a time to take herself off.

As he lit a torch, his temper flared as well. Just his luck to end up with a prudish whore—did she take him for a fool to believe in such nonsense? Angrily, he stomped down the path toward the woods. The woman had no business putting on airs.

Then again, he mused as his breathing settled into a steady rhythm, he would have to accustom
him
self to pretending she was no slut from the streets but an impoverished and delicately bred country miss. If he did not treat her like a lady, Lucy and his aunt would be sure to detect something amiss.

As Julian pushed aside a laurel branch and stepped into the woods, he realized darkness had taken hold rather faster than he had figured. The torch pushed back the encroaching blackness, but it illuminated no chastened female waiting patiently next to a tree for rescue. He gritted his teeth. Not only was the woman not biddable, she possessed appalling judgment. Dashing alone into a dark wood at night was certain trouble. He ought to let her wander about until she was thoroughly lost and contrite.

But even as the thought formed, a shaft of uneasiness shot through him. He did not like to think of the nocturnal creatures that prowled these woods in search of just such easy prey as an irrational and deaf female might offer. She would not hear a lynx or a bobcat or any of the feral cats that claimed the forest when darkness descended. A wild boar could charge through the bushes at her and she would never know until the last.

All thought of teaching her a lesson vanished in the gruesome images that sprang to mind. At first he increased his pace to a trot. Then he began to run.

“Miss Gregory!” he shouted, knowing she could not hear but hoping the sound would scare off any predators.

The growth around the path grew thicker, more ominous. He had brought no weapon; the torch would have to serve. In his haste, he paid little attention to his footing. He tripped over a fallen log and let out a string of curses. As he groped for his balance, the torch fell to the ground, rolled into the bushes, and went out.

Night engulfed him. Black humor coaxed a bitter laugh from his gut at the irony of the situation. Here they were, bastard duke and prudish whore, both lost in the forest, their respective stations in life utterly insignificant

He sat on the stout log and began to listen intently to the noises in the deep wood.

Hannah’s anger had quickly changed to chagrin and then to fear as she realized the extent of her foolishness. By the time her temper had cooled, she had no idea how far she had plunged into the forest.

None of the trees whose craggy shapes swayed in the darkness or the cloying bushes whose clinging branches caressed her seemed remotely familiar. As the night closed around her like a silent shroud, Hannah realized she was hopelessly lost.

Do not panic, she told herself sternly. The horrid duke would soon find her and no doubt chastise her severely for putting him through the trouble of coming after her.

But when the moments stretched into minutes and then into the better part of an hour, Hannah began to wonder whether he would come for her after all. Perhaps he had decided she offered too much trouble to suit his purposes. Perhaps he had resolved to find another woman to insinuate into his sister’s company. Perhaps his careless cruelty was just what she deserved for not controlling her temper more carefully. The Duke of Claridge had been her last, best chance. Why had she not shown more restraint?

Recriminations did not distract her sufficiently to keep the fear at bay, however. The branches and thorns that caught at her dress recalled the malevolent hands that had reached out for her so many times in her life. The silent grasping forest had come as alive as those evil hands.

She had not eaten today. Excitement at her changed circumstances had kept her going, and fear now stepped in to serve that purpose. But how long could she continue? Already, the crushing fatigue taunted her, along with a strange sensation that echoed in her head—almost, she would have said, like a sound.

Hannah put her hands to her ears. As she did, she caught sight of something bright that might have been a light or a firefly or the yellow eyes of some unknown beast. In the next instant, it vanished.

Dare she move toward the spot where that glimmer of light had been? Or did some creature lie waiting for her to walk straight into its talons?

Mired in indecision, Hannah stood still, enduring the thundering within her head and the fear in her heart. Her breathing raced out of control. Around her, the ever-present silence gave no hint of what awaited.

A nearby branch shook. It shook again, more violently. Then something lunged at her, catching her fast around the shoulders. Hannah shrieked—not knowing whether she had gotten the sound past her lips or whether, indeed, there was any purpose in doing so.

Like a rabbit in a trap, she was caught. And, like any self-respecting creature facing the prospect of becoming a predator’s next meal, she struggled for all she was worth.

Despite her slender form, Hannah Gregory was no weak female. When she put her heart and soul into the struggle for freedom, she made small inroads.

Enough so that Julian—who was trying to turn her around so that she could recognize him—sustained a momentarily debilitating kick in the shin and a painful bite on his forearm.

“God’s teeth!” Abruptly he brought her to the ground with a tackle that left her writhing in the dirt and looking wildly around like a frightened animal. He realized that she still did not know who he was.

Instantly he brought his face to hers so that she could see his features. Slowly, the wildness in her calmed, although her dazed look remained.

“Y-Your Grace?” she asked hesitantly.

“What is left of me,” Julian confirmed.

She squinted up at him through the darkness. “I cannot see you distinctly.
I ...
I cannot catch your words.” Her breathless voice had a strangely haunting quality. Ridiculous as it was, a sudden heat flared within him.

Then she smiled and took his breath away. Her
li
ps parted to reveal straight white teeth that gleamed like pearls in the darkness. The damp of the night gave her mouth and cheeks a luminous sheen akin to the fine marble of those Greek statues that were all the rage. As she lay smiling up at him, Julian realized it was the first time she had displayed pleasure in his presence. He willed away the little thrill that shot through him.

No doubt her smile stemmed from the expectation that he would lead her to safety. Grimly, Julian stared at the impenetrable forest around them. Escaping this deep wood tonight was an uncertain prospect at best
.
Yet he could not stay here, hovering inches above her as she eyed him like a rescuing knight.

“Come,” he barked, jerking her to her feet.

She did not object to the rough treatment. Instead, she merely brushed off her skirts and regarded him expectantly. He could not abide that hopeful expression.

“Miss Gregory,” he growled, “I think you should know that I do not have any idea how to get out of here.”

The dark was too thick between them. She gave no indication that she had understood.