More than a Mistress/No Man's Mistress (6 page)

The Duke of Tresham was holding his head with one hand. He held up his free hand while the young lady paused to draw breath.

“You married him, Angeline,” he said, “because you fancied him and he was an earl and almost as wealthy as I am. Mostly because you fancied him.”

“Yes.” She smiled and revealed herself to be an extremely pretty young lady despite her resemblance to the duke. “I did, did I not? How
are
you, Tresham?”

“Apart from a throbbing leg and a head ten sizes or so too large for my neck,” he said, “remarkably well, I thank you, Angeline. Do have a seat.”

The last words were spoken with considerable irony. She had already sat down on a chair close to the chaise longue.

“I will leave instructions on my way out,” she said, “that no one but family is to be allowed in to see you. You certainly do not need any visitor who might be inclined to talk your head off, poor thing.”

“Hmm,” he said, and Jane watched as he raised his quizzing glass to his eye and looked suddenly even more pained than before. “That is a repulsive bonnet,” he said. “Mustard yellow? With that particular shade of pink? If you were intending to wear it to Lady Lovatt’s Venetian breakfast next week, I am vastly relieved to inform you that I will be unable to escort you.”

“Heyward said,” the young lady continued, leaning forward and ignoring his opinion of her taste in bonnets, “that Lord Oliver is telling everyone he is not satisfied because you did not try to kill him. Can you imagine anything so idiotic? Lady Oliver’s brothers are not satisfied either, and you know what
they
are like. They are saying, though not one of them was present, I understand, that you moved like a coward and prevented Lord Oliver from killing you. But if they challenge you, you simply must not accept. Consider my nerves.”

“At the precise moment, Angeline,” he assured her, “I am preoccupied by my own.”

“Well, you may have the satisfaction of knowing that you are the talk of the town anyway,” she said. “How splendid of you to
ride
home, Tresham, when you had been shot through the leg. I wish I had been there to observe it. At least you have diverted talk from that tiresome Hailsham affair and that business in Cornwall. Is it true that a beggar girl screamed and distracted your attention?”

“Not a beggar exactly,” he said. “She is standing there by the curtain. Meet Miss Jane Ingleby.”

Lady Heyward swiveled on her chair and looked at Jane in considerable astonishment. It was quite clear that she had not noticed there was anyone else in the room except her and her brother. Not that the curtain offered any great degree of shelter, but Jane was dressed as a servant. It was a somewhat reassuring realization that that fact made her virtually invisible.

“You, girl?” Lady Heyward said with an hauteur that gave her an even more marked resemblance to the duke. She could be no more than a year or two older than herself, Jane estimated. “Why are you standing there?”

“She is my nurse,” the duke said. “And she prefers to be called Miss Ingleby rather than
girl.
” There was a deceptive meekness in his voice.

“Indeed?” The astonishment in the young lady’s face increased. “How peculiar. But I have to run along. I was to meet Martha Griddles at the library twenty minutes ago. But I had to come here first to offer what comfort I could.”

“What are sisters for?” his grace murmured.

“Precisely.” She bent over him and aimed a kiss at the air in the vicinity of his left cheek. “Ferdie will probably be calling on you later. He was incensed by the dishonor
Lady Oliver’s brothers were trying to throw upon you yesterday. He was all for calling them out himself—every one of them. But Heyward said he was merely making an ass of himself—his very words, I swear, Tresham. He does not understand about the Dudley temper.” She sighed and left the room as abruptly as she had entered it, leaving the door wide open behind her.

Jane stood where she was. She felt cold and alone and frightened.

What was the drawing-room gossip to which the Duke of Tresham’s sister had so fleetingly referred?
At least you have diverted talk from … that business in Cornwall
.

What business in Cornwall?

“I believe,” the duke said, “the brandy decanter is called for, Miss Ingleby. And inform me at your peril that imbibing more alcohol will merely intensify my headache. Go and fetch it.”

“Yes, your grace.” Jane was quite uninclined to argue.

ORD FERDINAND DUDLEY CAME LESS THAN AN
hour after Lady Heyward had left. He crashed the door back against the bookcase just as she had done and strode into the library unannounced.

Jocelyn winced and wished he had not sent the brandy decanter away as soon as he had set eyes upon it. He had just finished drinking a cup of chocolate, which Jane Ingleby had told him might settle his stomach and soothe his head. It had not achieved either desirable effect yet.

She melted back against the curtains again, he noticed.

“Devil take it!” his younger brother said by way of greeting. “Old Gruff-and-Grim tried to stop me from coming in here, Tresham. Can you imagine? Where do servants get such cork-brained notions?”

“Usually from their employers,” Jocelyn said.

“Good Lord!” His brother stopped in his tracks. “You really are playing the invalid. Mama used to languish on that chaise longue whenever she had been dancing and gaming for three nights or so in a row and fancied herself at death’s door. There’s no truth to the rumor, is there?”

“There usually is not,” Jocelyn replied languidly. “To which particular rumor do you refer?”

“That you will never walk again,” his brother said, throwing himself down onto the chair on which Angeline
had sat. “That you had to wrestle old Raikes down onto the floor to prevent his hacking off the leg. Honestly, Tresham, physicians these days would just as soon pull a saw out of their bags as take the time to dig around for a bullet.”

“You may rest assured,” Jocelyn told him, “that I was in no mood for wrestling anyone to the ground yesterday except perhaps that nincompoop of a surgeon Oliver took out to Hyde Park. Raikes did his job admirably well and I will certainly walk again.”

“Just what I said,” Ferdinand said, beaming at him. “It is in the betting book at White’s. I have fifty pounds on it that you will be waltzing at Almack’s within a month.”

“You will lose.” Jocelyn raised his quizzing glass to his eye. “I never waltz. And I never show my face at Almack’s. All the mamas would instantly assume I was in the marriage mart. When are you going to dismiss that sad apology for a valet of yours, Ferdinand, and employ someone who can refrain from cutting your throat every time he shaves you?”

His brother fingered a small nick under his chin. “Oh, that,” he said. “My fault, Tresham. I turned my head without warning him. The Forbes brothers are after your blood. There are three of them in town.”

Yes, they would be. Lady Oliver’s brothers had almost as bad a reputation as hell-raisers as he and his siblings did, Jocelyn thought. And since the lady was the only sister among five brothers, they were more than usually protective of her even now, three years after her marriage to Lord Oliver.

“They will have to come and take it, then,” Jocelyn said. “It should not be at all difficult since it seems my
butler will admit anyone to my house who deigns to step up and rap on the knocker.”

“Oh, I say!” Ferdinand sounded aggrieved. “I am not just anyone, Tresham. And I must protest your not asking me to be your second or even informing me that there was to be a duel. Is it true, by the way, that it was a servant girl who caused all the fracas? Brougham says she came storming into the house after you and got all the way to your bedchamber and gave you a tongue-lashing because she had lost her job.” He chuckled. “I daresay that it is a very tall story, but it is a damned good one nevertheless.”

“She is standing over there by the curtain,” Jocelyn said, nodding in the direction of his nurse, who had stood like a statue ever since his brother’s arrival.

“Oh, I say!” Ferdinand leaped to his feet and gazed at her with the keenest curiosity. “What the devil is she doing here? It is really not the thing, you know, girl, to interfere in a matter of honor. That is gentlemen’s business. You might have caused Tresham’s death, and then you would have swung for sure.”

She was looking at Ferdinand the way she usually looked at him, Jocelyn saw. He recognized the signs—the further straightening of already straight shoulders, the thinning of the lips, the very direct stare. He waited with a certain relish for her to speak.

“If he had been killed,” she said, “it would have been by the bullet of the man with whom he was dueling. And how foolish to call such a meeting a matter of
honor
. You are right to call it men’s business, though. Women have a deal more sense.”

Lord Ferdinand Dudley looked almost comically
nonplussed as he took a scolding from a hideously clad servant.

“She comes equipped with a mind, you see, Ferdinand,” Jocelyn explained with studied boredom, “with a double-edged tongue attached.”

“I say!” His brother turned his head and looked at him, aghast. “What in thunder is she doing here?”

“Conan did not complete the story?” Jocelyn asked. “I have employed her as my nurse. I do not see why the rest of my servants should be at the receiving end of my temper for the coming three weeks while I am incarcerated in my own home.”

“Devil take it,” his brother said. “I thought he was funning!”

“No, no.” Jocelyn waved one careless hand. “Meet Jane Ingleby, Ferdinand. But do have a care if it ever becomes necessary to address her again. She insists upon being called
Miss Ingleby
rather than
Jane
or
girl
. Which point I have conceded since she has stopped calling me nothing at all and has begun occasionally addressing me as
your grace
. My younger brother, Lord Ferdinand Dudley, Miss Ingleby.”

He half expected her to curtsy. He half expected his brother to explode. This must surely be the first time he had been presented to a servant.

Jane Ingleby inclined her head graciously, and Ferdinand flushed and made her an awkward little bow and looked downright embarrassed.

“I say, Tresham,” he said, “has the injury turned you daft in the head?”

“I believe,” Jocelyn said, setting one hand to the aforementioned head, “you were about to take your leave, Ferdinand? Some advice, my dear fellow, though why I
waste my breath giving it I do not know since Dudleys are not renowned for taking advice. Leave the Forbeses to me. Their quarrel is with me, not with you.”

“Damned rogues and gangsters!” His brother bristled. “They would be better employed giving their sister a good smacking. How you could have got involved with plowing that particular piece of skirt, I do not know. I—”

“Enough!” Jocelyn said coldly. “There is—” He was about to say there was a lady present, but he caught himself in time. “I am not answerable to you for my affairs. Take yourself off now, there’s a good fellow, and send Hawkins in to me. I intend to attempt to make clear to him that his future employment in this house depends upon his letting no one else beyond the doorstep for the rest of the day. If my head does not explode before nightfall and cause my brains to rain down on the books, I shall be very surprised.”

Lord Ferdinand left and the butler stepped into the library a minute or two later, looking apprehensive.

“I do apologize, your grace—” he began, but Jocelyn held up one hand.

“I will concede,” he said, “that it would probably take a whole regiment of seasoned soldiers and a battery of artillery to keep Lord Ferdinand and Lady Heyward out when they are determined to come in. But no one else today, Hawkins. Not even the Prince Regent himself should he deign to come calling. I trust I have made myself clear?”

“Yes, your grace.” His butler bowed deferentially and withdrew, closing the door behind him with merciful quietness.

Jocelyn sighed aloud. “Now, Miss Ingleby,” he said, “come and sit here and tell me how you plan to amuse
me for the next three weeks. You have had plenty of time to think of an answer.”

“Y
ES
, I
PLAY ALL
the most common card games,” Jane said in answer to a question, “but I will not play for money.” It had been one of her parents’ rules—no gambling in their home for higher stakes than pennies. And no playing at all after half a crown—two shillings and sixpence—had been lost. “Besides,” she added, “I have no money with which to play. I daresay you would derive no pleasure from a game in which the stakes were not high.”

“I am delighted you presume to know me so well,” he said. “Do you play chess?”

“No.” She shook her head. Her father had used to play, but he had had strange notions about women. Chess was a man’s game, he had always said with fond indulgence whenever she had asked him to teach her. His refusal had always made her want even more to be able to play it. “I have never learned.”

He looked at her broodingly. “I do not suppose you read,” he said.