A Crime of Manners (20 page)

Kissing her aunt’s cheek, Henrietta turned with a swirl of blue muslin skirts, and was out the door and down the front steps before the duke.

Winterton hurried after her and reached her side in time to assist her into the curricle. Shooting her a look that plainly spoke his displeasure at having her along on such a mission, he climbed up beside her and said, “You had best hold on, Miss Lanford. I intend to travel at a pace somewhat faster than our drive in the park.”

“Do not concern yourself with my comfort, your grace. It is Knight that you should be thinking of,” Henrietta said piously, wounded that he did not desire, nor think necessary, her company.

The duke gritted his teeth and they set off at a smart pace.

They were out of Town, and into the countryside, after driving for over an hour in maddening silence. Henrietta determined she would rather be the first to offer the olive branch than continue on in this manner. ‘Your grace, when do you feel we should stop and inquire after them?”

Winterton twisted his lips in a cynical smile. “Tired and wishing for some refreshment already, Miss Lanford?”

Henrietta’s good intentions fled. “I most certainly am not! I merely thought it would be prudent to ask if anyone had noticed a burly man carrying a sack.”

“I have not stopped so far because they have had at least an hour and a half’s start on us. We do not know if they broke their journey. More likely, the man is driving directly to Baddick’s estate.” The duke’s tone was once again that of one addressing a recalcitrant child.

Henrietta shifted in her seat away from the infuriating duke to prevent her temper snapping. She recalled occasions in the past when she had let her emotions get the better of her, acting childishly and then later regretting it. She told herself she had matured beyond such behavior.

Henrietta praised herself again, a few minutes later, when she resisted the urge to make a scornful comment when the duke followed her suggestion and pulled into an inn yard.

He threw the reins to Jeffers and hurried inside without Henrietta to question the landlord. A bare minute passed before he returned. “They have seen nothing,” he informed her.

She nodded her head in response and the pattern was repeated at four more inns along the road.

Three quarters of an hour later, Henrietta felt she must get down at the next inn and take care of an urgent personal need. In addition, something to drink would be welcome after all the dust from the road, but she would allow her tongue to swell up and turn black before admitting it to the stuffy duke. It was bad enough he would probably realize why she needed to go inside at the next stop, she thought, and blushed.

This stop proved to be a small hedge-tavern called the Nose of the Dog. Happily, Henrietta was spared embarrassment when the duke said, “We will partake of something to drink before moving on. I only hope the man who took Knight has not already reached Baddick’s estate.”

They walked inside the small establishment, and Henrietta immediately excused herself. When she returned a few minutes later, she found the duke seated at a table drinking wine. He stood at her appearance, and helped her to a seat.

“No luck, Miss Lanford. They have not seen them here either.” He motioned to a serving woman carrying a jug of lemonade.

Henrietta bent her head, covering her eyes with her hands, and using the tips of her fingers to massage the bridge of her nose. She felt like crying. Her voice trembled when she said, “Oh, he is just a poor cat far from home, your grace. I fear he will not survive.”

The serving woman finished pouring the drink and lowered the jug to the table. “You missin’ a kitty? I seen a lost cat here, just a little while ago. He came to the back door and meowed like a banshee.”

Henrietta dropped her hands and exclaimed, “Pray, what did he look like?”

“Big, ’e was, and strange lookin’, too. ’Is face was masked, like some evil creature.” The country woman shuddered and then continued, “I crossed myself before I threw ’im a fish ’ead.”

The duke’s commanding voice rang out in the small room, “Where is the animal now?”

The serving woman shrugged and picked up the jug. “Can’t say, You’re ’Onor. ’E gobbled up that fish ’ead and off ’e went down the London Road about a quarter of an hour ago.”

Winterton threw some coins on the table, and Henrietta called out their thanks before they hurried out the door. Jeffers, lounging by a tree, saw them coming and ran to take his place behind them.

They drove down the road they had just come from. After about ten minutes the duke stopped the curricle and instructed the tiger to walk alongside the road and scan the bushes for any sign of the missing cat.

The little man jumped down. Winterton put the curricle in motion at a very slow pace and said crossly, “We probably passed the devil on the way somewhere. Knowing that cat, he probably grinned when he saw us go by.”

Relief at the prospect of recovering Knight, as well as amusement at the duke’s words, caused Henrietta to laugh out loud. “Oh, your grace, surely not. Knight would have welcomed a ride!” She chuckled and said, “Poor thing, having to resort to eating a fish head. I assure you he would not touch one at home.”

“I believe you, Miss Lanford. I am familiar with the animal’s penchant for culinary delights. Since we heard he was abducted in a burlap sack, I have frequently pitied the man who had to haul the obese monster away,” Winterton said with a wry grin.

Henrietta gave him a look of mock reproach but giggled nonetheless.

Winterton stopped the curricle and gave a long-suffering sigh. “I see no sign of the animal. It might be best if I got down as well and walked. That way I can cover the other side of the road from Jeffers.”

“What a good idea,” Henrietta approved. “I shall drive while you and Jeffers walk.”

Winterton eyed her skeptically. He inquired, “Do you know how to drive, Miss Lanford? Those are not ordinary country horses, as you rightly noted earlier today.”

Affronted, Henrietta said curtly, “I admit I led a lonely childhood and that my parents largely ignored me. But my father did take the time to teach me how to handle the ribbons.”

Passing her the reins, the duke studied her intently. He remembered the Lanfords’ lack of interest in their daughter. Observing her stormy face, he said, “Miss Lanford, I, too, know what it is like to endure a solitary childhood. When I was growing up, no one besides my tutor had much time for me. My parents, especially my father, were cold, unfeeling people, terribly conscious of their great wealth and consequence.”

Cross from the long drive and the duke’s unloverlike treatment of her, Henrietta gazed directly into his gray eyes and said tartly, “Then you mean they are rather like yourself, your grace.”

The truth always hurts. Surely for the first time in his life, the Duke of Winterton was struck speechless.

He sat there tall and angry. His features hardened, and his voice, when he finally spoke, was quiet and menacing. “You think me cold, do you?”

Before Henrietta knew what he was about, Winterton closed his fingers around her chin in a firm grasp. She stared into his furious eyes and her heart lurched madly.

Chapter Eleven

Swiftly he lowered his head. The kiss began as a warm persuasion, but rapidly progressed into an expression of passion long held in check.

Henrietta felt a surge of excitement. Winterton’s firm mouth sent shivers through her, demanding a response, and she eagerly returned the pressure of his lips. Her gloved hand reached up tentatively to wind around the back of his neck, and her fingers caressed him, eliciting a low moan from the duke.

Jeffers’s sharp cry interrupted the couple. “Your grace! I’ve found the cat. He’s hiding here underneath the hedgerow.”

Winterton raised his head. For a long moment he stared bemusedly down into Miss Lanford’s wide eyes, noting her sweetly curved lips were still moist from his kiss.

A gentleman did not kiss a gently bred miss unless his intentions were honorable. Severely chastising himself for his folly, he snatched his hand away from her chin. While he was no rake, Winterton knew his plans for the future could not include the squire’s daughter, no matter how tempting the little baggage was. He was behaving abominably by kissing her.

The realization left him feeling decidedly blue-deviled. Placing the reins into her hands, he jumped down from the curricle, muttering, “Devil take all women ... and cats.”

Henrietta watched the duke stride up the dusty road toward Jeffers, who was kneeling before the tall hedgerow. She sat shaken for a moment. The numb feeling gradually crystallized into mortification when she thought about her wanton response to the duke’s kiss. Surely no lady behaved thus.

But how like him not to proclaim any affection for her, she fumed silently. Her brows drew together. Perhaps his condemnation stemmed from her bold return of his kiss. She considered the matter and decided the man had no finer feelings. She had been correct in her assessment of his character when she compared him to the parents he described as cold. The wretch!

Bringing herself back to the matter at hand, Henrietta urged the horses down the lane a short ways to where the duke stood next to his tiger, peering into the bushes. “Where is Knight, Jeffers?” she addressed the servant, ignoring Winterton.

“’E’s crouched in ’ere, miss, and won’t come out.”

“Take the reins so I can fetch him,” Henrietta responded.

Winterton turned an icy gaze on her. “I do not need your help, Miss Lanford. The animal is merely stubborn, but I shall prevail.”

“Being more stubborn yourself,” Henrietta said softly.

“What did you say?” the duke asked her, his eyes narrowed.

“Nothing, your grace,” she replied demurely. Raising her voice, she called, “Knight, come along now, and we will go home.”

There was no response from the hedgerow.

“I’ll go in and get ’im, your grace,” Jeffers offered.

“By the heavens, you will not,” the duke stated grimly. “See to the horses. I shall retrieve the feline beast myself.”

He stripped off his acorn-brown coat and handed it, along with his hat, to the tiger. Pulling on his York tan driving gloves, the duke bent and again peered into the recesses of the hedgerow.

Knight sat hunched, wide-eyed and alert to his strange surroundings. Winterton moved forward, reaching for the cat. Knight shrank back out of his reach. The duke lunged for him, muttering curses, and the cat turned, scurried through the bush, and ran out into a farmer’s field, much to the surprise of a grazing cow.

“Knight!” Henrietta cried, half standing in the curricle in an effort to see over the hedgerow.

Perceiving a gap in the bushes, the duke pressed his way through and into the field, dislodging a blackbird who shrieked in protest.

A few minutes later, like a ball being shot out of a cannon, Knight careened through the same gap, ran down the lane, and with a flying leap, landed on the floor of the curricle. He hopped up on the seat beside Henrietta and, scarcely taking a minute to catch his breath, began washing his paws with his pink tongue, his attitude one of total nonchalance.

Henrietta hugged him close for a moment, then petted his white back, removing a small leaf stuck to his fur.

“All’s right and tight now, miss,” Jeffers ventured, and chuckled. Abruptly he fell silent, and his face became wooden.

Looking up to see the cause of the little man’s discomfort, Henrietta could only stare.

The proud Duke of Winterton stood outside the hedgerow, gazing wrathfully down his nose at the occupants of the curricle. His fine cambric shirt had numerous small tears in it, as did his buff pantaloons, from the spiny shoots and thorns of the hawthorn. His cravat was half-untied. Dust and scratches covered his normally gleaming Hessian boots. A lone white flower hung from his dark hair over one ear.

From the glowering expression on his face, Henrietta knew she must not laugh. A choking sound escaped from her, and she struggled for control.

Jeffers wordlessly handed his master his coat and hat.

The picture the duke presented shrugging on the immaculate coat over his disheveled clothing was almost Henrietta’s undoing. The hat dislodged the flower, and it floated to the ground mercifully unnoticed by Winterton when he climbed up into the curricle.

Taking up the reins, the duke looked thoughtfully into the distance. A moment passed and then he said, “I should like to make for Baddick’s estate, but regretfully such a course would prove futile. Odds are, the viscount has been warned of our questions by his London servants, if the man who took Knight has not already given Baddick the news of the cat’s escape.”

“This time he will leave the country, will he not, your grace?” Henrietta asked hopefully.

“Yes. Baddick cannot be cork-brained enough to stay in England now.” With a flick of the ribbons, the duke put the horses in motion.

Knight curled up on the seat between them and fell asleep.

Seeing the picture the girl and the animal presented, the duke decided they were a witch and a cat. With frustration in his voice, he said, “Much as I should relish making Baddick wish he had obeyed me before, I am not at liberty to pursue him at the moment. Rest assured, however, I shall make inquiries on the morrow to be certain he is gone.”

Henrietta frowned. “Why do you say we are not at liberty to go after him now? I confess I should find Lord Baddick’s humiliation gratifying after the misery he has caused my aunt this day.”

“Bloodthirsty, Miss Lanford? I should like to see Viscount Baddick upon six men’s shoulders myself, but I am afraid I cannot give in to such desires. No, I must escort you home before it grows dark and your reputation suffers,” he informed her imperiously.

Insufferable man! “It is not my reputation you are troubled about, your grace,” she told him briskly. “You are so accustomed to ladies throwing themselves at you, you fear a bride behind every tree! But you need not distress yourself on my account. I have no wish to be compromised by you, and pray you will convey Knight and me back to Grosvenor Square with all speed.”