The Black Duke's Prize (24 page)

She handed it to him. "I don't think you'll have as much luck
filling it tonight," she muttered, looking away and wishing she had never
come. Almost no one had looked at her, much less spoken to her, since she had
arrived. And now no one ever would again.

"You have no faith," he answered, taking a seat on the far
side of Lady Alison. He wrote for a moment, then rose again and handed it back
to her.

She looked down at it, and her mouth quirked. "You can't do
that," she retorted, motioning at the card.

"I can do anything I wish," he drawled. "I'm a
duke."

"But you've taken up every space," she protested, finally
meeting his eyes. "Even for the dances that have already passed."

"What more harm could it do?" he responded. ''You're ruined,
and I'm a rake, so we may as well enjoy ourselves."

Music for another waltz started up, and he leaned over to look at her
card. "I believe this is my dance," he stated, indicating the correct
line, and then reached his hand down to her.

After another hesitation she slipped her hand into his, and with a tight
nod at her godparents Nicholas led her out onto the deserted dance floor. They
danced in silence for a few moments, taking advantage of the space around them.
Kate wished he would speak, or do something, before she burst into tears at
his closeness.

"I thought you came here with Josette Bettreaux," she finally
said, unable to bear the silence any longer.

He nodded. "I did."

''Then how can you claim every dance with me?" she queried.

"Josette and I have . . . parted ways," he said quietly.
"Oh," she commented, hurt and angry that he would even acknowledge
being with that woman. She raised her head to look at him straight on.
"Did you give her a parting gift?"

She waited for him to lie or to make a sarcastic comment, but for a
long time he just looked at her with serious gray eyes. "She asked for a
bracelet," he finally said. "I'll send her one in the morning."

"Why didn't I get a gift, then?" Kate challenged, her lips
tight to keep them from trembling. ''It seems that after what you've done to me
I should get something."

He tightened his grip on her hand, and she thought that she had finally
succeeded in making the Black Duke angry again. "I'm not through with
you," he murmured, his eyes glinting.

"Oh, so you're not through with me?" she repeated, her voice
rising. "This is all your decision, is it? I told you before, I don't
need you for—"

"Yes, you do need me," he interrupted with a growl.

"Tonight, unless you wish to stay ruined, you need me. Can you
admit that, Kate?"

Tears filled her eyes. ''I don't want to need you," she whispered.
"I don't want to rely on you."

"But you can, Katherine," he whispered back. "Believe me.
You can. Let me make this up to you. Please. Because even though you may not
need me, I need you."

She had never expected to hear such an admission from him. "You
need me?" she repeated.

"Everything is so dull without you, you know," he said softly,
then smiled a little. "No one to put me in my place, or to knock me in the
head when I say dreadful things."

She smiled back despite herself. "I didn't think you would miss
that."

"But I do." He grinned back at her, then sobered again.
''Thomas told me he has proposed to you."

"Yes, he has," she confirmed, her spirits lifting a little.

He almost sounded jealous. "Quite admirable of him, considering
he's in love with Althaea Hillary."

''Thomas in love with Althaea?" he repeated, obviously startled.
''That timid little flower?"

Katherine chuckled. "She's only timid around you."

"Me?"

"She's been deathly afraid that you'll offer for her. She thinks
you're entirely too fierce."

Nicholas snorted "I have been called much worse, and mainly by
you," he pointed out.

Abruptly she remembered that she was ruined. "What do we do
now?" she muttered.

The music had ended, and she turned to leave the floor.

He held onto her arm and made her stay. "We dance. The next one is
mine as well," he reminded her.

"Don't make me do this," she protested, deeply embarrassed.

Immediately he placed her hand on his arm and led her off the floor.
"All right," he acquiesced, "but you must promise that I may
calI on you tomorrow."

She nodded, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. He reached up and
gently brushed it away with his thumb, and she almost leaned up and kissed him,
right in the middle of the ballroom. "Tomorrow," she echoed.

"You may rely on me for this," he murmured.
 

"I will," she answered.

19

K
atherine slept through
the night for the first time since Nicholas had left Crestley Hall, and she
didn't awaken until Emmie pulled open the curtains a little before noon. Her
maid seemed to be making as much noise as possible, and finally Katherine gave
up feigning sleep and sat up. "What in the world are you doing?"

"Oh, Miss Kate, you must come downstairs," Emmie gushed,
coming forward to tug on her arm.

"I'm not dressed," Katherine protested with a sleepy grin as
she allowed herself to be pulled from the bed.

"But you must come. I'll get your robe."

Emmie dashed away and returned a few seconds later with her robe, which
Katherine shrugged on, trying not to giggle. Whatever was going on, Emmie was
certainly very excited about it, and her delight was . infectious.

At the landing of the stairs Katherine stopped, gasping.

There were roses everywhere. Red roses, white roses, pink and yellow
roses stood in a profusion of vases on every available space in the hallway.
Her godparents stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling up at her.

"He must have bought out every flower shop in Lon.don,"
Alison murmured.

The scent of roses filled the air as Kate descended the steps, and she
took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment before she opened them
again in wonder. She had never seen so many roses in one place, and when she
caught a glimpse of still more vases in the morning room she began to chuckle.
"Oh, goodness," she breathed.

"Is there a card?" Lady Alison asked.

They began a laughing search through the profusion of blooms until
Katherine found the envelope tucked into a vase full of red buds. Her hands
shaking a little, she pulled out the card. In Nicholas's familiar, strong hand
it read, "Dearest Katherine, Every petal here a kiss, every thorn a sigh,
and every vase a weapon. Love, Nicholas."

She burst into laughter. It was overall a highly improper note to send
to a young lady, but it was very like him. She stood staring at the signature
for a long time, fascinated by the words
Love, Nicholas.
Abruptly she
remembered that he might call on her at any moment, and she hurried upstairs.

She decided to wear the peach muslin that she had worn on their picnic.
Emmie fussed over her hair for so long, Kate thought she would go mad from
sitting, but then when that was finished she didn't know what to do with herself.

She wandered down to the morning room to find Lady Alison stitching amid
the profusion of blooms.' After she had fidgeted with all of the vases, turning
them this way and that for nearly an hour, her godmother firmly suggested she
go out to the garden. She complied, but soon found herself back inside,
wandering the hallways, tom between fury at Nicholas for keeping her waiting
and worry over what was keeping him. When she heard the front door open she
rushed into the entryway, . and nearly collided with Louisa.

"Kate?" the young lady exclaimed, startled, then grabbed onto
her arms and hugged her, laughing. "I hear that congratulations are
due."

Althaea stepped around Rawlins. "How wonderful for you, Kate,"
she seconded, and kissed Katherine on the cheek.

"I admit," Louisa said, chuckling, "I wasn't certain
whether we'd be attending a duel or a wedding."

Katherine frowned and led the way into the drawing room, where she
plunked herself down on the couch. ''Don't congratulate me yet," she said
mournfully, certain now that something was wrong.

Louisa sat beside her. "What in the world do you mean?

Everyone's talking about how last night, when the Black Duke danced with
you, half the women at the ball began weeping because they realized Nicholas Varon
had finally fallen in love and was off the market."

"And about how His Grace purchased every rose in London this
morning," Althaea added. "He even persuaded the Countess of
Grenville to part with half of the prize blooms in her garden." She
glanced about the hallway. "It's fairly evident that this is where the
flowers ended up."

"The flowers may have arrived here," Kate said, glancing up
again at all the beautiful blooms, "but Nicholas hasn't."

"What?"

"I expected him hours ago," she said with a sniff. Louisa took
her hand. "Something has simply delayed him, then. I'm certain he hasn't
changed his mind."

Until that moment Katherine had been certain as well.

"I don't know whether I want to kill him or be anxious for
him," she grumbled, trying to smile and failing. He had said she could
rely on him for this.

"Be anxious for him," a male voice said from the doorway, and
she started.

"Thomas?" she said, her heart missing a beat at the sober
expression on the viscount's face. "Why?"

"Nick's gone missing."

Nicholas came to, looking up at a ceiling, and, more specifically,
rafters. They were covered with dust and cobwebs, and as he tried to remember
where in the world he was, a rat scurried across one of the beams, pausing
momentarily to look down at him before it continued on its way.

With an effort he lifted his head to its normal upright position on his
shoulders. He was in some sort of warehouse; the floor was cluttered with
mildewed straw and the remains of crates and broken barrels. He obviously
hadn't placed himself there, for his hands and feet were tied to a rather
sturdy chair. Judging from the painful throbbing of his skull, whoever had
kidnapped him had clubbed him, and had done a bloody fine job of that indeed.
He was very late for something, though he couldn't at that moment remember
what. Katherine's face flashed in front of his eyes, and he swore. Damn, he was
going to be in a lot of trouble.

"Still among the living, Sommesby?" a smooth voice said from
behind him.

Nicholas stiffened, realizing that he was already in more than a little
trouble. "DuPres."

"Sorry to say I hit you harder than I intended. Couldn't help
myself, really. For a moment, though, I wasn't sure whether you'd be able to
assist me."

"Assist you?" Nicholas asked, cursing himself for being
addlepated and lovestruck enough to let someone as dangerous as Francis DuPres
sneak up behind him. He never should have gone after the Countess of
Grenville's flowers. "The only assistance you'll receive from me is pointing
you in the direction of hell."

"I'm certain you know that route quite well." Francis DuPres
moved around in front of him. "And you may lead the way, after I get what
I want."

"Which is?" "Revenge."

"Oh," Nicholas said, not surprised. "Do your best, then."

"I shall." DuPres pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket
pocket. "To begin, sign Crestley Hall over to me."

Nicholas could only stare at him. "Forgive my obtuseness," he
said after a moment, ''but what in the world ever made you think that clubbing
me and tying me up was a good way to persuade me to part with Crestley
Hall?"

"If you don't—"

"I mean, I hate to be vulgar," Nicholas drawled, interrupting,
"but go to the devil." The entire incident had not been amusing to
begin with, and now that his head was beginning to clear he was growing more
than a little angry. Crestley Hall would stay safe with him until he and Katherine
were wed, though that prospect was again looking dim. He would then deed it
solely to her and the heirs of her choosing. And nothing short of death would
keep him from doing that small thing for her. He twisted his hands again, and
the rope started to come loose. One more good pull and he'd be able to wrap his
fmgers around DuPres's throat.