The Way to a Duke's Heart: The Truth About the Duke (7 page)

Charlie thanked them and went out for a walk. A canal promoter. That explained the travels, although this near Bath, one would think it might make Scott well-known there. Gerard said he’d made extensive inquiries, although perhaps his brother had gone about it from the wrong angle. Gerard would have been looking for someone who hated Durham, someone thwarted or affronted by the duke in some way. He told Charlie all he’d heard was polite condolences concerning their father’s death, and barely veiled curiosity about the scandal. They hadn’t learned Scott’s name until very recently, however, so perhaps Gerard had been asking the wrong questions, or asking the wrong people. It was unlikely Gerard, an army man who took little interest in business, would have sought out the businessmen and tradesmen who might have known Scott as an iron manufactory owner.

Of course, Charlie felt even less qualified to do that.

He turned into a wider street, considering his options, and beheld his very best one. Eugenie Bates stood a hundred yards in front of him, fanning herself weakly. Her short, plump figure was unmistakable, from the fluffy lavender shawl she clutched with one hand at her neck to the woebegone expression on her flushed face. He headed right for her.

“Mrs. Bates!” he exclaimed. “How astonishing to meet you here!”

She looked up at him with the same startled look as the first time he’d accosted her, in the York, but this time it brightened at once into joy. “Why, Lord Gresham! What a lovely surprise!”

“And it appears I have come across you in distress, yet again.” He frowned in concern. Unlike last time, when he’d wholly invented her illness, the older lady did look unwell today. “May I fetch a doctor?”

“Oh, no, no, I was merely a bit overheated.” She fluttered her fan more vigorously. “I feel
much
better now. And very happy to have met you again. I shall never forget your kindness in Bath,
never
.”

He waved one hand. “It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and one of the few I enjoyed in Bath.” He glanced around. “Have you come alone? I thought you were traveling with Mrs. Neville.”

“Oh, my, yes! She’s just in the apothecary’s shop, I’m sure she’ll be right out. I grew a bit faint—the odors, you know . . .” She stopped and blushed. “But now I count it quite fortunate, for it drove me outside at a most opportune moment!”

Charlie smiled at her, not mentioning that he would have walked every street in town in search of the two of them. “Fortunate indeed.”

“And there is Mrs. Neville now,” said Mrs. Bates, beaming. “Tessa dear, see whom I met!”

The lady emerging from the apothecary’s shop turned at Mrs. Bates’s call. With the advantage of surprise on his side this time, Charlie could take in her full reaction. She stopped dead in her tracks, her lovely mouth open and her startling pale green eyes wide with surprise. In that moment, without a trace of frost or disdain in her face, Mrs. Neville was rather beautiful, Charlie realized. He was not accustomed to beautiful women disliking him, and for some reason her antipathy struck him as especially unfair—and gave him the sudden urge to charm her mercilessly. How dare she think him indolent, when he had just chased her across Somersetshire?

“Mrs. Neville.” He removed his hat and bowed very properly. “How delightful to see you again.”

“And how surprising, my lord.” Her curtsy was a bit stiff. “Mrs. Bates didn’t mention you were also traveling to Frome.”

He smiled. “We hardly had time to become acquainted in Bath—though I am thoroughly pleased to rectify that failing. But I’ve come to Frome on rather dull business, and wouldn’t wish to bore either of you with it.”

Her mouth flattened and she looked positively grim for a moment. “Of course not,” she muttered. “We wouldn’t dream of keeping you from your important business, sir.”

He barely kept back his grin at her faint stress on the word “important.” Mrs. Neville felt slighted. “On the contrary,” he replied easily. “It is my most fervent hope you and Mrs. Bates will grace me with your company a time or two. I assure you it would brighten my visit immeasurably.”

“Oh, Tessa dear,” gasped Mrs. Bates. She turned and looked up at Charlie with shining eyes. “How very,
very
kind of you, my lord!”

He inclined his head graciously without taking his eyes from Mrs. Neville. She watched him back, a faint line between her brows. Her gaze was sharp and a little bit puzzled, as if she couldn’t make him out. He had the feeling he was being measured against some invisible standard, and for a moment he wondered how he’d be found, worthy or lacking. But she didn’t look nervous or guarded anymore, which strongly indicated she knew nothing about Scott’s blackmail.

Quite by surprise Charlie found that he strongly hoped that was the case. He wasn’t sure why it mattered to him that she be innocent of any particular sin. Mrs. Neville obviously found him indolent, vexing, and tiresome. He told himself it was for Mrs. Bates’s sake he cared; the elderly lady would be very hurt if her young friend turned out to be complicit in blackmail, and Charlie liked Mrs. Bates enough to wish her no harm. But he couldn’t deny there was something about Mrs. Neville herself that caught at him. Even though he hoped his doubts about her would prove baseless, he wasn’t at all sorry he had to examine her more closely. To tell the truth, he was looking forward to unraveling her, far more than he should be.

“May I offer you my arm?” He did so as he asked the question, and this time Mrs. Bates didn’t waste a moment. She gave him her hand and beamed at him as he folded it around his arm. “Mrs. Neville?” He turned to the other woman, who still hadn’t moved, and offered his other arm.

“Thank you, no,” she said. “I am perfectly capable of walking down the street unaided.”

Charlie just bowed his head. “Indeed. It was merely to gratify my own desires I inquired.”

She gave him a sideways look of suspicion, but fell in step beside him and Mrs. Bates as they set off.

“Do you plan to stay long in Frome, my lord?” asked Mrs. Bates.

“A little while,” he said vaguely. He could see Mrs. Neville’s reticule swing forward on her arm with every step she took, a bright blotch of red against her dark blue skirt. Her gown was stylish but simple, and a bit on the sturdy side. She dressed practically, it seemed. “I’ve come to see a gentleman about some business matters.”

“Just as we’ve done,” exclaimed Mrs. Bates. “Or rather, just as Mrs. Neville has done; she’s quite the cleverest young lady I’ve ever met, my lord.”

“Eugenie,” said Mrs. Neville.

“Lord Marchmont relies upon her for investment guidance,” Mrs. Bates chattered on, ignoring the look from the younger woman. “Although I do hope we shan’t have to visit the coal mines. I’ve heard they’re very dirty, dangerous,
disagreeable
places, and I fear so much for dear Tessa when she ventures off.”

“Eugenie,” said Mrs. Neville again, the note of warning clearer this time.

“I’m sure Mrs. Neville is sensible enough not to venture too dangerously,” said Charlie. “Although I quite agree about coal mines.” He made a face. “I’ve come to see a fellow about the canals, though, not the mines.”

“But so has Mrs. Neville!” Mrs. Bates seemed immune to the increasingly aggravated glances Mrs. Neville was giving her. Charlie could feel each of them; they practically singed his chest as the lovely widow glared around him at her companion. “She’s considering Mr. Scott’s canal, is that the same one you’re looking at?”

“Mr. Hiram Scott?” repeated Charlie as if in amazed disbelief. “That’s just the fellow I’ve come to see! My, what a remarkable coincidence.”

Mrs. Bates almost crowed in delight, her cheeks pink. “Why, Tessa dear, isn’t that amazing? Who would have guessed, when we met in Bath, we were both on the same errand?”

Mrs. Neville cast an aggrieved glance at him. Charlie didn’t say anything, just met her gaze with an expression of pleased discovery. Here at last was the connection he wished to explore. To his relief, she didn’t appear excessively upset that her companion had betrayed her connection to Scott. If she really feared what Mrs. Bates would say, she wasn’t very firm in forestalling the older lady. “Yes, Eugenie, it is amazing,” she said at last, in the same tone she might have agreed that smallpox was just as bad as consumption. “But I hope you won’t prattle Lord Gresham’s ear off about coal mines and canals and other dull things.”

“On the contrary,” said Charlie quickly, staring hard at Mrs. Neville. How did he manage to irritate her so completely? It was very nearly a gauntlet thrown in his face. “I should like to hear all about the canals. No doubt your view would be most helpful to me, since”—he smiled at her—“it appears we are interested in the same thing.”

T
essa’s hands were in fists and she longed to hit him, just to wipe that smile off his face. It was a sly little quirk to his lips, coaxing and secretive all at once. The way he said “we are interested in the same thing” sounded more like a seduction than any sort of intelligent discussion between equals. Not that he viewed her as an equal, of course. Until Eugenie had mentioned the canals, he hadn’t wished to
bore
her with
dull
details about business. Temper warmed her face. She’d wager a guinea she could keep—and read—an account ledger better than His Pampered Lordship could, but like most men, he assumed she had the brains of a pigeon and would feel light-headed at the mention of debentures or bonds. She longed to ask his opinion of the engineer’s plotted route, or if he had any doubts about the projected dividends. If he agreed with the demands of the landowners who were insisting the canal weave from mine to mine to lessen their own costs, or with the investors who wanted the most efficient route and the most economical construction.

“I wouldn’t wish to bore you,” she said before she could stop herself. “I’m sure my opinions would be quite inconsequential to you, my lord.”

His steps slowed and his expression turned keen and thoughtful. Tessa jerked her eyes away from him and refused to look back, even though she could feel his scrutiny like the heat of a fire. She had overdone it again, no doubt. Oh, why had he decided to take an interest in Eugenie? She honestly couldn’t fathom what possessed him. Surely her single rude remark, well over a week ago, wasn’t enough to inspire this much attention, and if his purpose was to make her squirm in regret, he had already achieved that. Eugenie was still clinging to his arm like a happy barnacle, so Tessa didn’t walk away as she wanted to, but she wished mightily that Lord Gresham would go away at the end of the street.

But Eugenie seemed to have cast off any care or awareness of what she wished, because at the end of the street, Lord Gresham asked if he might escort them on their errands and then back to their lodging, and Eugenie accepted before Tessa could demur. She couldn’t keep back a sigh, and then gritted her teeth at the inquiring—though highly satisfied—look Lord Gresham gave her.

She tried to clear her mind as they walked. Eugenie was talking enough for both of them, idle chatter that flowed past Tessa without sinking in, although Gresham’s replies scraped across her nerves like a bow over a violin string. What could he want with them? There weren’t many possibilities, she decided. First, he might have some honest affection for Eugenie, although whence it sprang she couldn’t imagine. Second, he could wish to torment her in revenge for her remark, but this seemed far-fetched. Why would he care what a woman of no real social standing thought of him? It made no sense, so logically she discounted it.

But that cleared away the most likely reasons. Had he perhaps some connection to William? Tessa oversaw her brother’s books and knew there was no mention of any business with the Earl of Gresham. In addition, William was happily married and rarely left Wiltshire, so it was unlikely they had argued over a woman or cards. Unlike Louise, William had no desire to join the whirl of London and was only making a short visit to the city to see her settled. And if Louise had any connection to Lord Gresham, Tessa—along with the rest of the shire—would have known of it in great detail. Louise was incapable of keeping a secret, especially not one involving so delicious a person as the Earl of Gresham. From what Eugenie had recalled of the gossip about him, he was a very dashing rake, living on his charm and title and money, with a long trail of mistresses and lovers.

Tessa could easily see why—women must fall left and right for his lazy, knowing grin, when his dark eyes glittered with amusement and interest—but that only provided less connection between them. Rakes liked women of easy virtue. Scoundrels had no interest in people who were on guard against their deception. Tessa was sure she fit into neither category.

The only other possibility she could think of involved Mr. Scott’s canal, but she didn’t even know what that might be. If Eugenie’s gossip was right, he had far more money to do with as he pleased than William did. If Gresham wished to invest in the canal, Tessa knew she’d be fortunate to secure even an hour of Mr. Scott’s time again; she was already well aware that Hiram Scott’s first loyalty was to his shareholders, and securing Lord Gresham’s backing, either in pounds sterling or in a Parliamentary vote, would obscure whatever investment Tessa might counsel William to make. Mr. Scott would trample her into the dust in his haste to curry favor with an earl. The shares were effectively unlimited, so Gresham couldn’t possibly fear losing the chance to invest if she bought the shares instead. None of it made any sense at all.

“Oh look, dear,” piped up Eugenie. “Here is the coffeehouse. We ventured forth in search of it, in fact,” she told Lord Gresham. “Mrs. Neville is
so
fond of a cup of coffee.”

“Indeed.” He turned the full force of his dark-eyed smile on her. Unthinkingly, Tessa looked up and met it head on, almost tripping over her own feet at the warmth in his gaze. Quick as a wink, his hand was on her arm to steady her. “We share a passion, Mrs. Neville.”

The touch of his hand was a shock. His fingers curved under her elbow, strong and firm although his grip was light. For a moment she felt stunned, dazzled and weakened by the glare of his attention. Good heavens; no wonder he was a rake. Her heart skipped and her breath caught and her thoughts scattered as he smiled at her. She had only felt that way once before in her life, and it had ended so badly . . .