The Notorious Nobleman (9 page)

Whether or not he felt any of the same
emotion for her, she had no way of discovering; for Harriet
Clouster tumbled back into the drawing room then, the promised
sewing basket in her arms. She was half-way across the room before
she realized he was there, then she drew up short and her
expression dissolved into one of shock. “Duke! Gracious, I had no
idea

! When did
you

? Oh,
heavens!”

He saved her the trouble of forming a more
sensible conversation by stepping forward and sketching a very
proper bow. “Mrs. Clouster, how do you do?” he asked, so politely
as to stun her even further. “I have called merely to satisfy
myself that Lady Pettingale was well and suffered no ill effects
from our encounter earlier this week.”

“
Oh, no! Julia suffered not at all
and

and she is very well!”
sputtered Harriet, still quite flustered.

“
I am glad to hear it,” said Gavin. He
turned and claimed Julia’s hand momentarily. “Lady Pettingale, I
hope I may have the pleasure of seeing you again
sometime.”

Julia was reluctant to allow his fingers to
slip from hers and she heartily wished he would stay longer. “But,
will I not see you at any of the village parties? Mrs. Ludhill is
hosting a card party this evening and tomorrow there is to be an
assembly with dancing. Will you not be there?”

“
No, I never partake of neighborhood
society,” he said, quietly. “I find the villagers have enough tales
to tell of me without my adding any more fuel to their
fires.”

He departed before Julia could think any
reason to make him stay. No sooner had the door closed upon him
than Harriet directed a rather horrified gaze upon her and said,
“You, Julia Pettingale, are playing with fire! You have had more
than ample opportunity to hint the Duke away, which is what any
prudent woman would do! Instead, you invite him into my very own
drawing room, as bold as you please!”

“
I did not invite him in. Your maid
announced him and he came in before I could put two thoughts
together.” She took the sewing basket from Harriet’s lifeless
fingers and began sorting through its contents.

“
Why was he here?”

“
He explained the reason for his call.
I believe his motives were quite gentlemanly.”

“
I don’t!” retorted Harriet. “I saw the
way he looked at you just now, and I also noticed how you looked at
him. For heaven’s sake, Julia, stop this madness before it goes any
further!”

Julia felt her temper rise, and said, rather
defiantly, “I have met the duke on only two occasions and in both
instances, he was very kind to me. I cannot think why you have
chosen to hold him in such low regard.”

“
Julia, the Duke of Warminster is a
libertine,” said Harriet, bluntly. “It pains me to say such a
thing, but you must face that fact.”

“
So you have told me,” Julia answered,
calmly.

“
He gambles away small fortunes on a
turn of a single card,” said Harriet, undeterred, “and he runs
sporting mad to the exclusion of all other pursuits.”

“
I am sure he regrets such behavior!”
Julia said, her voice seriously weakened.

“
When he is at Merrified, he spends his
leisure time at the local inn, where his favorite drinking
companion happens to be a serving maid by the name of Leggy Liz.
And in London, he has a house on Albermarle Street where he has
installed his latest flame! My dear Julia, this man is not for
you!”

“
Are you simply repeating gossip or do
you know such things for a fact? I thought so!” she said, when
Harriet could not reply. “Will you condemn him based on rumors and
gossip? I refuse to judge a man merely based on stories that
neither you nor I know in fact to be true!” protested
Julia.

“
Then here is some truth for you,
Julia, and I shall speak it plainly to you, as a friend. When I
invited you to visit I promised I would do my best by you to find
you a husband; but you must know that no man will offer for you if
it is put about that you are on intimate terms with the Duke of
Warminster. For your own sake, you must end your friendship with
him now.”

“
Harriet, I cannot

”

“
My dear Julia,” Harriet said, a bit
more kindly, “no man of honor will ever propose marriage to a woman
who counts a libertine among her acquaintance.” Julia was quiet for
a moment, prompting Harried to add, “You do see that I am right,
don’t you?”

Julia knew very well that Harriet was
speaking nothing but the truth, but she fought against it with a
feeble protest. “I don’t think you would say such things if only
you knew him as I do.”

“
I know him well enough to know that he
will never offer you marriage. He can only prevent you from
marrying another, and then where will you be?”

Where, indeed? In Harriet’s rather direct
words, Julia was forced to acknowledge a truth she would rather
dismiss: She was fast falling in love with the Duke of Warminster,
and had been from the moment he had set her upon his horse and
wrapped his strong arm comfortingly about her. She thought that
since that moment, she had witnessed changes in him, that she had
detected a softness whenever he was in her company. But she also
recalled how guarded he was of his emotions and how much he grieved
still for a wife who was long gone from him. Harriet was right; he
would never offer her marriage. Just moments ago he said very
plainly he would never marry again; yet marriage was the only
avenue by which Julia could obtain for herself some sort of
security for the future. Without marriage, Julia was relegated to
living off the kindness of her friends for the rest of her
life.

Harriet wrapped a comforting arm about
Julia’s shoulders and said, compellingly, “You see that I am
correct, I know! Now, promise me you shall remember what I have
said. If you have any hopes of marrying again, you must have
nothing more to do with the Duke of Warminster. Promise me,
now!”

Julia closed her eyes and fought back the
small lump that had formed in her throat. She said, at last, in a
voice of flat despair, “I promise. I shall have nothing more to do
with the Duke of Warminster.”

Gavin made the drive from Sussex to London in
record time and reached his townhouse in Grosvenor Square just
after the summer sun sank into the western horizon. During the
entire drive he had pushed his horses to their limits and had
maintained a pall-mall pace that had, on more than one occasion,
caused Newley to clutch his seat and hold on for dear life. But
there was no time to be lost. Gavin knew that if he was going to
accomplish what he had set out to do, he had to reach London before
it was too late; before gentlemen of fashion left their homes for
the evening; before they set off for their nightly entertainments
at theatres or their clubs.

He had only a slim chance of succeeding. In
truth, during the entire drive he had frequently questioned his own
sanity, telling himself that Julia Pettingale meant nothing to him
and that her estrangement from her father mattered to him not one
jot. Yet, still he pushed toward London and when at last he
arrived, he left his curricle and horses standing in the street,
and entered the house only to order that his grey be saddled and
brought round immediately.

“
Your grace is not thinking of going
riding at this hour?” objected Newley as he observed the darkened
sky.

“
Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,”
retorted the Duke, “and you’re coming with me in the curricle. I
want you to sound a certain knocker at someone’s door.”

Newley looked a trifle alarmed. “Drive your
curricle, your grace? Do you think that wise? I’ve never driven
your bays before.”

“
Don’t worry, they lost their edge
miles back. You’ll only be driving to Green Street, after all, and
I shall be riding alongside all the way. Never fear!”

As it happened, fear did not overtake Newley
until the drive to Green Street had been accomplished and they were
pulled up before a very large and elegant townhouse.

“
Sound the knocker, Newley,” commanded
Lord Warminster, waiting on horseback. “Let us see if Sir Walter
Gardner is at home.”

Newley obediently jumped down from the
curricle and did as he was told. But no sooner was his knock at the
door answered, and the front door swung wide open by the butler of
that establishment, than Lord Warminster went into action. Still
astride his horse, he ascended the front steps and, ducking his
head, drove his mount directly into the front hall of the
house.

Riding past the stunned expressions of
Newley, the butler, and several footmen positioned about the hall,
he sent his horse cantering up the staircase. At the first floor,
he reached down to open the first door he came to. That room was
empty and he rode on down the hall to the next door. Again he
reached down and opened it, and this time, he found what he was
looking for.

Sir Walter Gardner, unsuspecting that a man
on horseback had invaded his home, was leisurely partaking of a
glass of port before departing for an evening’s entertainment; but
when the door flew open and the Duke of Warminster rode his grey
stallion into the room, he flew to his feet, oversetting his glass
and sputtering with shock.

“
Warminster!” he managed to say at
last. “What the devil is the meaning of this!”

Gavin circled his fidgeting horse twice about
the room, his dark eyes focused all the while upon Sir Walter. “Not
too many days ago you told me you wanted to buy this horse. I am
here to sell him to you.”

“
Of all the

Have you gone mad?”

“
Perhaps I have; but that is not at all
to the point. Do you still wish to buy him or don’t
you?”

“
You
are
mad!” accused Sir Walter. “How dare you come
to me like this!”

“
I dare many things, Gardner, but I
didn’t come here to catalog my exploits for you.”

“
No need, I assure you! Like everyone
else, I am well aware that you have been barely hanging onto the
hem of decent society for years.”

“
I’m flattered you have taken such an
interest in me,” said Gavin, “but I would rather we concluded this
business so I may be on my way. Do you wish to purchase this
animal, or don’t you? The price, I assure you, is very
reasonable.”

Realizing at last that his uninvited guest
was speaking with perfect sincerity, Sir Walter Gardner frowned as
he watched the Duke of Warminster continue to circle his shying
horse about the furniture. “Very well. You may name your price, but
I do not doubt you have in mind some exorbitant sum!”

“
On the contrary, I don’t want your
money, Gardner. I want your word.”

Sir Walter’s eyes widened. “My word?” he
repeated.

“
Yes. On paper,” said Gavin, evenly. “I
will sell you this horse. You shall pay for it by writing a brief
letter to your daughter.”

Sir Walter stood very still for a moment, his
attention arrested; then slowly he sank down onto a chair. “My
daughter? You’ve seen her, then? You’ve seen my Julia? Is she
well?”

“
You may ask her yourself. I’m not a
message boy, Gardner. Now, write the infernal letter.”

“
No.”

Gavin’s horse minced warningly.
“
What
did you
say?”

“
I shall not write a letter to my
daughter. Not now; not ever,” Sir Walter replied, stiffly. “My
daughter has been dead to me for years, ever since she married that
neck-or-nothing, Pettingale!”

“
But she’s not dead. She’s in Sussex,
living off the kindness of friends. She hasn’t a pence to call her
own.”

“
I did not know that,” murmured Sir
Walter with a slight shake of his head. “I had heard Pettingale had
died, but she seemed afterward to simply disappear! I had no notion
where she had got to.”

“
Nor did you ever try to discover her,
I fancy. Julia deserves better from you, Gardner.”

“
She defied me!” countered the baronet.
“She shamed me! She should never have eloped with any man, to say
nothing of a man of whom I disapproved!”

“
She has paid sorely for the rashness
of that one decision. She has nothing, Gardner. Nothing at all. Do
you intend that she should continue to pay for your wounded pride
for the rest of her life? I would have taken you for a better man
than that!”