The Black Duke's Prize (6 page)

"Thought
he didn't care for those schoolroom misses," Neville added, then smiled.
"He almost seemed respectable. Another of his games, I imagine."

When they
arrived back at the town house Katherine stopped and impulsively stood on
tiptoe to kiss Lady Alison, and then Lord Neville, on the cheek. ''Thank
you," she said. "I had a wonderful time."

"You're welcome,
Kate. I'm rather enjoying the idea of bringing a daughter out into
society." Lady Alison smiled and hugged her. ''Go up to bed, now,
child."

Katherine did
as she was bid, and Emmie helped her change into her nightgown. Once the maid
was gone she picked up her dance card again, gazing at the last name. It was
wrong to have left without a word. She shrugged. With all the goings-on of the
evening, Nicholas Varon undoubtedly would have forgotten her by the morrow.
She threw the card into the wastebasket beside her dressing table and climbed
into bed. Ten minutes later she rose again, retrieved it, and placed it in the
top drawer of her dresser.

5

"N
ick, good morning," Clarey greeted Sommesby as
he
entered the Hamptons' library sharply at ten.

The baron
crossed the room to shake his hand and motioned him to one of the overstuffed
chairs that sat before the fire. Clarey shut the door behind them, a precaution
Nicholas noted with some interest.

''Tea? Or
perhaps brandy?"

Nicholas seated
himself. "It's a bit early for brandy, even for me," he muttered.
"Tea will be fine."

Neville poured
it, leaning over to hand Nicholas's to him. For a long moment he stared at the
fire. "I need to ask you a favor," he said finally.

"I'm
listening." He hadn't heard that Clarey was in financial difficulties,
but the Hamptons were good friends to his mother, and if they needed funds he
would do what he could.

"There is
a piece of property several days north of here that I believe is going to come
onto the market very soon, and very quietly. I cannot be involved with it
myself, nor will I name the present owner to you, but I would like you to
purchase it, however shady the deal appears to be. I want the deed, and
assurances from the current . . . occupant that it is the property, the manor,
and everything in it, including the crop and the contents of the stables, that
you are purchasing. And I want the occupant off the property as soon as
possible."

The request
wasn't remotely what Nicholas had expected, and he gave a low whistle.
"You don't ask much, do you?"

Neville nodded.
"And one more thing. I want no one to know of this. Besides you, only
Alice and I know of this conversation. And Nick, no other questions
asked." He took a breath. "Will you help me?"

Greatly
intrigued, the duke leaned forward. "I do have one question."

"Yes?"

"What's
the name of the property?"

"Crestley
Hall."

It
appeared that the Season
wouldn't be as dull as he had originally thought. "All right." He sat
back again and took a sip of tea.

Neville slapped
the arm of his chair. "Thank you."

"You're
welcome." Nicholas set the cup and saucer aside. "I'd best be on my
way, then. It seems my man and I have a great deal of work to do."

"There is
one more thing." Neville grimaced. "You may not like this. Of course
all of your expenses shall be repaid, but depending on a separate set of
circumstances, it may not be for two years."

The conditions
were odd, but no more than was the rest of the deal. He shook his head.
"You needn't worry, Neville. I could purchase all the homes along Rotten
Row and still have enough to buy a lady's heart."

Clarey laughed.
''There's not enough money in all the world for that."

"I
wonder." He leaned forward. "I am curious about one thing. Why
me?"

The baron cleared
his throat. "I believed I could trust you, and that you would have the
means, and . . . " He trailed off.

"And the
necessary lack of scruples?" Nicholas supplied, more intrigued than
annoyed. Crestley Hall was sounding more interesting every moment.

Neville had the
good manners to look embarrassed. "Something like that."

A soft knock
came at the door, and it swung open. "Lord Neville?"

Both men rose
at the sound of the female voice. Katherine Ralston stood in the doorway,
looking very fetching in a mauve riding outfit cut in the military style. On
her head, tilted forward at a jaunty angle, perched a hat of the same color.
She looked startled as she saw the duke, but quickly recovered herself.

"I'm
sorry, I didn't realize you had company," she said to her godfather.
"Lady Alison asked me to tell you that a crate just arrived from Paris.
She said you would want to know."

Neville grinned
and rubbed his hands together. "Oh, yes. I tracked down a case of some of
the finest French wine I've yet encountered, and finally last month convinced
the man to sell it to me. This must be it. Thank you, m'dear," He headed
for the door, then looked back. "Will you excuse me for a moment?"

Nicholas
grinned. "You and your wines. Of course. Miss Ralston and I will endeavor
to entertain ourselves." He glanced over in time to see her blush.

Clarey hurried
from the room, distracted enough that he voluntarily left his goddaughter alone
in the company of the Black Duke. From the warmth in the baron's voice when he
spoke to her, Miss Ralston was more than merely tolerated at Hampton House,
Nicholas noted with some interest. She continued to stand there looking
nervous, and he decided that it served her right.

"I was
surprised to see you here," she said finally.

"You left
early last night," he responded, leaning against the edge of the end table
and crossing his arms.

"I had a
headache," she countered.

He looked her
carefully up and down, noting that she blushed again. "You seem to have
recovered."

"Yes,
thank you." She turned, and he thought she was going to flee. Instead she
became absorbed in studying the titles of the books on the nearest shelf.

"You like
Shakespeare?" he asked, stepping closer. She was smaller than he
remembered. Perhaps it was her temper that had made her seem taller.

"I beg
your pardon?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Shakespeare,"
he repeated, reaching over her shoulder for a volume. As he had expected, she
started.

"Yes,"
she mumbled. "I do, very much," she continued after a moment, and stepped
around him.

"My mother
has a fabulous collection of early quartos," he continued, putting the
book back and turning to keep her in sight. "I'm certain she would be
delighted to show them off to you."

''Thank you for
telling me." She turned to look at him. "And thank you for your
assistance last night. I very much enjoyed meeting all of my partners."

"You're welcome," he answered, and leaned against the
bookshelf. "Would it have been so terrible for you to have danced again
with
me?"
he murmured, wondering what pretty lie her excuse would
be.

She looked him
in the eye. "I didn't want a scandal."

''The devil,
you say!" he retorted. "Do you think I would have danced with all of
those weak-kneed, simpering chits, if not to avoid a scandal?" She continued
to glare at him, though he had no idea why. "I told you, you did me a good
turn. I don't ruin people who do me favors, intentional or not."

"How
gracious of you," she responded ungraciously. "I shan't mistake your
chivalrous motivations next time."

He
straightened. "Who's to say you'll have the chance?"
               
 

She put a hand
to her forehead as though in distress, uncomfortably reminding him of Althaea
Hillary. Her words, though, were anything but those of a demure young miss.
"Oh, please, don't say you'll never waltz with me again. I couldn't
survive the deprivation!"

Truly irritated
now, he took a step forward. She must have seen something in his face, for her
hand lowered and she stepped backward. "Waltzing again with me should be
the least of your worries, Miss Ralston," he said with a growl. "I
think there are other social graces you have more need to perfect."

"What? How
dare you, of all people, lecture me on proper behavior?" she hissed, her
eyes flashing.

She had a
point, but he was angry enough that he didn't care. "It's obvious that
someone needs to," he returned, taking another step closer and noting her
fast breathing and the flush on her cheeks. Apparently she wasn't quite as
composed as she wanted him to believe.

She backed away
again. "You, sir," she spat out, "are a great beast."

"I've been
called worse," he murmured, tempted to take the pretty chit over his knee.

"And with
good reason, I'm certain," she retorted, and ducked sideways to put the
couch between them. "Now, if you will excuse me, I have a far more
pleasant diversion to prepare for."

Not finished
venting his anger, and at any rate unwilling to let her have the last word,
Nicholas pursued her to the doorway and blocked her exit with his body.
"And what might that be?"

She stopped in
front of him and put her hands on her hips. "Not that it's any of your
concern, but I am going picnicking with some of the parties you were so kind as
to provide me introduction to last evening."

"You're―"
he began, and then changed his mind. It appeared that she wasn't aware of the
identities of all the guests invited to the al fresco luncheon.

"Yes," she went on scathingly, "and
they
apparently
have found no fault with my manners."

"You
little hoyden," he snapped. "You won't be picnicking with anyone
after I ask them to beg off." Nicholas turned and headed through the
doorway.

She gasped.
"You wouldn't."

It wasn't her
words that stopped him, but her tone of voice. He turned to see that she was
shaking, her face white. Something abruptly made him wonder how long she had
been alone before her arrival at Hampton House. Perhaps he wasn't the only one
whose list of acquaintances was far longer than that of friends.
"No," he said slowly, "I wouldn't." He cleared his throat.
"Good day, Miss Ralston."

With that he
was out the door. He collected his hat and greatcoat and left without a word to
Neville, wondering, of all things, how anyone's eyes could be so blue.

6

B
y the time the Viscount of Sheresford arrived to escort
her to Hyde Park, Kate had begun to calm down. What nerve Nicholas Varon had,
to threaten never to dance with her again, for heaven's sake, even after she
had thanked him for his help. She knew she had a temper herself, but no one
had ever looked at her that way before, and it had frightened her a little.