The Black Duke's Prize (10 page)

He laughed again. "I shall remember that," he responded, his
eyes merry as he looked at her. "You are an unusual woman." After
another moment he pushed himself away from the shelf and swept his arm out.
"Here you are," he said, indicating a shelf of old and incredibly
fragile-looking paperbound quartos and folios, carefully protected behind
glass. He unhooked the latch and swung the glass sideways. "Except for
The
Two Gentlemen of Verona,
which I have."

She stepped forward, and he moved back, out of her way. These were
indeed early quartos and folios. One of them even looked to be an original
playbook, one that William Shakespeare himself might have held.

"Go ahead," he said encouragingly.

She reached her hand out, then lowered it again. "They look so
fragile. I'm afraid to touch them."

"Which one?" he asked from right behind her.

"King Lear,
I think," she whispered,
wondering why the deep, dry sound of his voice made her want to lean back
against him.

His hand reached over her shoulder, much as it had when they fought in
the Hamptons' library. He pulled down the quarto and handed it to her. As his
hand left the manuscript, his fingers brushed her cheek, and she shuddered.

She knew that she should move, walk over to one of the chairs or to the
deep windowsill, but instead she stood like a statue, holding the manuscript
carefully in her hands and afraid to breathe. His fingers touched her cheek
again, brushing the skin so lightly it made her shiver. The other hand touched
her shoulder, and she turned around as though under a spell.

"You should never turn your back on a gentleman of ill
repute," he chided, his fingers still cupping her cheek. "Even a
cowhearted quitter like myself."

She agreed wholeheartedly, but still didn't speak. If she did he might
stop looking at her in that way that was making her stomach flutter and her
heart beat so fast.

"What. no argument?" he continued in the same quiet voice.
"No witty sally for me? Cat got your tongue, Kate?"

Nicholas took a step closer, and with his fingers tilted her face up.
The Black Duke leaned down and touched his lips to hers in a faintly
brandy-flavored kiss. Katherine's eyes shut at the contact. Shivers ran up and
down her spine and into the tips of her fingers and toes, and she leaned into
him. His hand slid down from her shoulder to her waist, and he pulled her
closer. Something began to slip from her fingers. . . .

"The play!" she cried, her voice muffled against his mouth,
and she bent forward, bumping her head, to grab the fragile pages before they
could strike the floor. She trapped the quarto against her calf and carefully
picked it up again. Only then did she look at Nicholas.

He stood a few feet away, rubbing his chin and glaring at her.
"Ouch."

"Well, it was your own fault," she retorted, determined not to
let him see how much he had unsettled her.

"I see you've recovered the power of speech," he returned,
stepping forward.

She backed away, clutching the quarto to her chest like a shield.
"Stay away from me," she warned.

"A little late to be acting shy," he commented, coming closer
anyway. "Don't tell me you were displeased."

"Being displeased or not has nothing to do with it." she
replied, stopping with her back against a shelf of books. Nicholas Varon was
dangerous in a way that she hadn't imagined. She had been schooled for her
entire life on how to be a proper lady, but at this moment what she wanted more
than anything was for the scoundrel to kiss her again.

"So you did like it." he responded, grinning and pursuing her
into the corner.

Her heart pounding, she nearly gave in. "You, sir," she said
desperately, "are a rakehell."

He stopped. For a moment he looked at her, then nod- . ded and took a
step back. "And you, Katherine, are a lady." He bowed elegantly.
"My apologies."

Katherine exhaled.

Abruptly he strode forward and took her shoulders in his hands.
"But you were wrong. I am not a quitter," he murmured, running his
finger along her lower lip. With that he turned and left the room.

After a dazed moment in which she nearly walked out of the library with
King
Lear,
Kate shakily replaced the play behind its protective glass. She
returned to the drawing room to see Lady Alison just rising to come and get
her.

"Ready to go, Kate?" she asked, smiling.

Katherine cleared her throat. "Yes."

Julia Varon rose as well. "Did I hear Nicky's voice in the
hallway?" she asked curiously. "He said he might stop by today."

Katherine nodded. "Yes. He was in the library," she mumbled,
knowing that she must be blushing.

The Dowager Duchess nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. He often goes
there."

As they took their leave Katherine thought she heard the duchess
chuckling, but she couldn't be certain.

9

He shouldn't have kissed her.

It had been a muttonheaded thing to do, something he would have
expected of a schoolboy on his first trip to London in search of town bronze.
Nicholas berated himself on the entire drive back to his town house, distracted
enough that he nearly ran down the Viscountess of Franton before he noticed her
yammering French poodles and swerved the team. He hadn't meant to kiss her. He
had only meant to tease her, to remind the little madcap that she should not be
placing herself in a position where she was alone in a room with a man. But
then, as if of its own accord, his hand had touched her cheek, and she had trembled.

He had always sought women who knew the rules of the game, and who,
without exception, had played it before. They appreciated his attentions, or so
they claimed, and he rewarded them for their time and discretion. And not one
of them had ever trembled at his touch. And not one of them would have named
laughter or friendship, or chocolate creams, as more necessary than wealth or
comfort.

Gladstone was waiting in his study. Nicholas wanted time to think, but
Clarey had impressed on him the importance of time in the acquisition of
Crestley Hall, so he threw his gloves on the desk and sank into the chair behind
it. "Well?"

The older man didn't even blink. "There is a legal precedent in
our favor, if the boy and the legal guardian both sign the deed."

"Grand," Nicholas said with a growl, and got to his feet.

"If that's all―"

"Not quite, sir." Gladstone glanced up from the stack of
papers he held.

Nicholas cursed and seated himself again. "Make it quick, will
you?"

"I'm trying, Your Grace."

"Be very careful, Gladstone," Nicholas murmured, leaning
back. "I am not in a good mood."

His secretary swallowed. "Yes, Your
 
Grace." He consulted his papers again.
"First of all, there are apparently several other parties interested in
Crestley, and―"

"Competition?" Nicholas cut in, sitting forward again.
"Why?" he muttered, mostly to himself.

"You haven't allowed me to discover that, Your Grace, but I assume
that because of the situation and the price, any number of miscreants might be
looking at this as a way to buy themselves into society."

"Miscreants?" Varon repeated, raising an eyebrow. Gladstone
flushed. "Not you, of course, Your Grace." Nicholas waved a hand at
him. "Outbid the miscreants." Gladstone sighed. "Yes, Your
Grace." He paused, pulling free another piece of parchment. "You
instructed me to purchase the entire estate holdings."

"Yes."

"Well, the proprietor informed me that he had already sold part of
it off."

"Damn," Nicholas caused. "Which part?"

"The contents of the stables, milord."

"Can you track them?"

Gladstone lifted the paper. "I already have."

"Good man. Buy them back."

"But Your Grace―"

"Buy them back."

On the rare occasions that he attended Almack's he always felt like a
fox to the hounds because of all the mamas who seemed to feel that the assembly
was the place for their daughters to catch a husband. Even so, this evening he
was tempted. There was no use in trying to make excuses. Surprising though it
was, he wanted to see Kate again. The chit was beautiful, but she was far from
the type of female who generally attracted him. She was outspoken, argumentative,
and outrageous. And, he was forced to admit, quite the most diverting woman he
had encountered in years. After much swearing and the destruction of three
cravats, to the dismay of his valet, he took himself off to White's instead.

When he returned sometime after midnight he went through his mail and
found a scrawled invitation from Thomas to go riding in Hyde Park the next day.
He hesitated before writing his answer, for Hyde Park in the early afternoon
was worse than Almack's. But Katherine would likely be going as well. Damn the
woman, anyway, for making him feel such a nodcock.

Finally he sat back and grinned. She had a quick tongue, but he doubted
she had the experience to back it up. He scribbled back a reply to the viscount
to be delivered in the morning. He was no green stripling, and he would see who
won this battle.
        

Mr. Hodges's man had not yet returned from Staffordshire, and there was
no word from her uncle, either, despite three additional letters. To Kate's
surprise, though, her godparents, who had been so sympathetic before, no longer
seemed concerned over Uncle Simon's reticence.

"You cannot assume the worst, Kate," Lady Alison said as the
three of them lunched together. "After all, he is your uncle."

"We know what a terrible time it was for you," Lord Neville
added soothingly. "Perhaps you exaggerate just a little."

Katherine stood. "I do not exaggerate," she retorted, her
temper flaring. "If it were your home at stake, you would feel the
same." She grabbed her riding gloves. "I think I should go back to
Crestley and see for myself what he is up to."

Lord Neville rose as well. "Nonsense, Kate. You couldn't go on your
own."

"I made it here on my own," she reminded him.

"By mail stage," he pointed out.

Katherine shuddered, for she had detested every moment of that smelly,
bumpy ride. "I will not let him steal what belongs to me."

"My dear, I will not see you so distressed," Lady Alison said,
reaching up to take her hand. Kate didn't see the scathing look she shot at her
husband.

"Kate, I will send someone to look into matters at Crestley,"
Lord Neville said quickly. "There is no need for you to go. Will that
suffice?"

"I already―" Kate swallowed. They would both be hurt if
she admitted to going behind their backs. It seemed she had plunked herself
into a hole. But perhaps Lord Neville would get a quicker response than she had
been able to muster. "All right," she agreed, nodding.

Shortly after that Louisa and Thomas arrived to escort her to Hyde Park.
Again the viscount was more than generous in his praise of her, but his kind
words affected her far less than did the erratic compliments of the Black Duke.
It shouldn't have been so, for half the time she wasn't certain if Sommesby
even meant what he said, and the other half of the time what he said provoked
her beyond bearing. If only he would stop being so unpredictable, there was
no doubt she would tire of thinking about him, and dreaming about him, almost
immediately.

When they arrived at the park the Black Duke himself was present, seated
on a great black charger and conversing amiably with the captain. She found
her eyes focusing on his lips, and her thoughts on the intoxicating kiss he had
given her the day before. Unsettled, she came near to claiming a headache and
returning to the Hamptons' before he saw her. She didn't, however, telling
herself that if she did leave he would likely drive poor Althaea, already
cowering on the far side of her brother, to another fit of the vapors.