To Tame a Scoundrel's Heart (A Waltz with a Rogue Novella Book 4) (7 page)

Katrina marched across the plush carpet, her sage skirts swooshing softly. She took his hand, though most improper, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “A child shouldn’t be blamed for his or her parents’ failings. You will love your sisters and affirm them and win them over in time. And we
will
find you a wife who will accept and nurture Daphne and Delilah. And trust me, a substantial purse opens many, many doors.”

She jutted her chin up a notch. “Papa is a bastard too, and few
haut ton
members dare snub or cut him. He owns most of them in one way or another, yet he’s never abused his position.”

Tenderness filled Nic’s lovely eyes, and he traced his thumb over her lower lip before caressing her cheek. “How did one so young become so wise?”

Rustling at the doorway drew their attention, and Papa strode in.

“Pendergast, pray tell, why are you holding my daughter’s hand?”

Chapter Five

Nic promptly tried extracting his hand from Katrina’s petal-soft palm, but she retained a firm hold. God’s bones, if Needham had seen him caress her face ... An enraged father calling him out would muck up his plans entirely and set his sisters’ futures tumbling pell-mell straight to Hades. He tugged and whispered, “Miss Needham—”

“Don’t be silly, Papa.
I’m
holding his grace’s hand.”
Aye, that made all the bloody difference
. “And for a very good reason. I’m sure you’d approve.”

Hardly.

Unless betrothed, unmarried, ungloved ladies of quality did not clasp a gentleman’s hand for any reason. Surely she must be aware of the impropriety. Even Nic knew that tidbit.

“I assure you, Needham, I am not holding your daughter’s hand.” Not precisely.

Needham’s dancing eyebrows and pointed gaze alleged otherwise.

Nic wiggled his fingers, and Katrina smiled into his face, giving his hand another squeeze, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stand before her father clasping a man’s hand. A stranger’s hand, at that.

Nic gave another tentative pull. Nothing except tingling fingertips.

Christ, an alligator’s jaw had a weaker grasp.

“I’m comforting him,” Katrina said without compunction.

I’m dead.

Bloody maggoty hell. A groan threatened, but Nic marshalled the involuntary noise. Only an innocent would admit to comforting a man and not comprehend her words’ significance. Ladies most certainly didn’t comfort gentleman acquaintances. Katrina’s naïveté, though charming, might land him on the field of honor.

She dimpled and angled her father a guileless glance. “He frets for his sisters, and I’ve promised to help him find a bride. It’s all entirely innocent, I assure you.”

The minx had the audacity to lift Nic’s entrapped hand, which he purposed to keep relaxed, rather like a dead octopus.

Lord, but she must lead her parents a merry chase. She’d lead her husband a merry chase too, and God above, despite the impossibility, he wanted to be that damned lucky bastard.

Mr. Needham chuckled and smoothed one side of his sandy mustache. “So I see from the beleaguered looks the duke keeps sliding me. Release the poor chap else he flees before dinner, and I have to explain to your mother why the table is a guest short.”

After a final reassuring, finger-numbing pulse, she rushed to her father and kissed both his cheeks. “Have you heard from Major Domont?” she murmured softly.

“Not yet, my dear.” Needham patted her shoulder, his gaze compassionate. “Be patient. He’ll return as promised. He adores you.”

“Of course he does. How could he not?” An attractive brunette swept into the room, fairly beaming. “Don’t fret about the major. The army doesn’t keep to our schedules. He’ll be along, darling.”

Greatly resembling Katrina, except for her violet eyes, Mrs. Needham dipped a graceful curtsy. “Your Grace. I cannot tell you how delighted I am to learn of your good fortune, albeit it doesn’t portend well for your unfortunate sisters.”

Nic bowed. “It is an honor to see you again, Mrs. Needham.”

Once the greetings had been exchanged, Katrina strayed to peek out the window. Her shoulders slumped the slightest bit, and irritation toward a man he’d never met welled within Nic. True, the major’s military duties might have delayed him, but it only took a moment to jot a missive and send it off to the woman you’d professed to love and promised to marry.

If Katrina waited for
him
, he’d not dally, but return at the first opportunity. Hell, he’d never leave her.

Ever
?
Not even to take to the sea again
?

A mule’s kick to his ribs wouldn’t have cramped his lungs more, and his breathing stuttered. No, that commitment he couldn’t make. He loved the sea, and she wasn’t a mistress who took kindly to sharing her men. If he closed his eyes and held perfectly still, he could feel her seductive rolling and swaying beneath his feet.

Nonetheless, he’d been damned disappointed to learn Katrina was practically betrothed. She’d quite captivated him in his short visit with Aunt Bertie. Nic hadn’t minded her delicate hand wrapped in his the least and admitted he’d contemplated kissing her before her father barged in.

Good thing Needham had interrupted.

Nic needed her assistance—and her mother’s too, of course—and he’d be a sailless, rudderless ship if they refused to further his cause because he’d foolishly overstepped the bounds. Even dukes couldn’t always have what they wanted.

“Please forgive our daughter for her forwardness, Your Grace.” Sending Katrina a doting glance, Mrs. Needham indicated he should have a seat on the settee beside her. “She possesses a tender heart and at times, forgets herself and what’s acceptable.”

Katrina’s gaze meshed with his, and she cocked a shoulder. “I do. I try to remember all the rules, but when I get excited, they rush out of my head faster than water over a fall.”

“It’s of no import.” Nic rather hated rules too, and now he must adhere to an entire litany of the wretched things. He sat, and his attention again gravitated to the portrait dominating the tastefully decorated room.

Katrina’s clear blue eyes, containing the perfect blend of merriment and innocence, sparkled from the canvas. Her skin glowed like the marble statues he’d seen in Rome, and her lips perfectly matched the pink peonies she held—wherever had they acquired the blooms this time of year? A rich shade between pecan and sable, her glossy hair had been twisted into an intricate Grecian style, intertwined with pearls. More pearls as well as sapphires adorned her ears, throat, and the wrist of the hand clutching the peony bouquet. The jewels enhanced her eyes and the exquisite blue and white gown she wore.

A gown which revealed tempting cleavage.

Look away.

“The likeness is superb,” Nic muttered at last, praying no one noticed his husky tone.

“It is indeed.” Needham’s perceptive gaze swung between his daughter’s portrait and Nic several times.

Astute man. Had he heard and discerned Nic’s interest?

Perhaps Needham would consider a duke rather than a major? No, a doting papa, he’d let Katrina make the choice, and she’d already picked her dashing soldier.

And Nic had chosen the sea.

“Mama, I confess, I’m having a deucedly difficult time contriving a list of seemly candidates for his grace’s bride.” Sinking into the chair opposite Nic, Katrina arranged her skirts and gave her mother an engaging smile. “Might I impose upon you to assist me?”

Osborne entered with the tea tray, and a few moments passed as Mrs. Needham poured tea and everyone selected a scrumptious pastry. At last, she answered her daughter.

“I should be happy to lend you my advice. I’m sure if we put our heads together, we’ll muster a few acceptable ladies.” She lifted the plate of assorted confections, offering Nic another, which he gratefully accepted. No flaky delicacies like this on
The Weeping Siren
.

“How fare your sisters, Pendergast?” she inquired, returning the plate to the table. “I met the dears once, several years ago. Delightful and charming, and both quite bashful.”

His mouth full, Nic gulped the half-chewed Shrewsbury tart, damn near strangling in the process. He swallowed twice more, cleared his throat, took a hefty sip of tea and scalded his blasted tongue before he could speak.

Uncouth bumpkin.

“Aye, they are timid, and they’ve been isolated for months with a crusty barnacle of a governess as the duchess and my brother toured the continent. If I had female relatives, besides Aunt Bertie, that is, I’d promptly move my sisters in with them until I marry. I’m afraid right now, they’d be uncomfortable with only me about. I am a stranger to them, after all.”

“Too bad Miss Sweeting doesn’t have a bigger house. Your sisters could live with her for the time being. She’d adore it, for she’s quite lonely.” Katrina sipped her tea, a far-off expression on her face.

At least she hadn’t noticed him nearly choking to death or ogling her portrait.

Mrs. Needham set her china cup upon the oval tea table. “Hugo, what say you we invite Miss Sweeting and his grace’s sisters to stay with us until he marries?” She flicked her fingers ceilingward. “We’ve several empty bedchambers, and since I presume Miss Sweeting will live with Pendergast too, it will give the ladies a chance to become acquainted before he weds.”

“Surely that would be an enormous imposition,” Nic demurred, though the notion appealed a great deal. Traveling between Chamberdall Court, Aunt Bertie’s, London, and his appointments with Katrina wouldn’t leave him much time for assemblies or courtship.

Katrina nodded eagerly, the shiny, loose curls near her ears pirouetting. “That’s a splendid idea. And, since Mama and I shall work closely with his grace on finding a bride as well as helping him with a few other areas he has expressed an interest in polishing—”

She swung him an expectant look, and Nic produced a bashful grin.

“Dancing, properly knotting a cravat, which fork or spoon to use, a new wardrobe ... I’m sadly lacking in refinement,” he admitted.

Needham leaned into his ornate chair, his tall frame almost too big for the dainty structure. Hands folded across his trim waist while clearly taking Nic’s measure, he wiggled his fingertip.

Would Nic pass muster?

“I have no objection, and as someone born on the wrong side of the blanket myself, I can empathize with what you’ve endured these many years, Pendergast. Also with what your sisters will bear.” He scratched his nose and hooked an ankle over his knee. “That’s why I extended you the funds to buy your ship, you know, though you were hardly more than a boy. I saw your potential, your determination, and might I say, you’ve not disappointed.”

Such a rush of emotion engulfed Nic, he couldn’t find his tongue for a moment. “Thank you, sir. I cannot tell you how honored I am at your faith in me. And thank you for your generous offer to invite my sisters and aunt to stay here. I gratefully accept on their behalf.”

“Wonderful.” Katrina beamed as she took a dainty nibble of her biscuit.

Aunt Bertie would have a conniption at first, but she’d come round. She cherished the Needham women, and they’d encourage her to eat and exercise properly too.

A commotion at the drawing room’s entrance preceded two young men around Nic’s age, a plumpish, dark-haired girl, perhaps a year or two younger than Katrina, and a very fat pug.

Introductions were made to Katrina’s brothers, Simon, seven-and-twenty, and Theodore, four-and-twenty, as well as Shona Atterberry, the Needham’ permanent houseguest. A flat-faced, snarfing, fur-covered sausage with four legs that Katrina introduced as Sir Pugsley—Sir Pudge was more apt—begged treats from all present. A swift half an hour passed, filled with comfortable conversations, good-natured bantering, and usually two or three people talking at once.

Wonderful chaos.

A close-knit family, the Needhams’ warm interactions sparked an envious craving in Nic. Except for a handful of bristly sailing chums and Aunt Bertie, he wasn’t particularly close to anyone. He’d never experienced the familial intimacy the Needhams took for granted—honestly hadn’t realized he’d missed it. Until now.

Needham slapped his knees before standing. “I’ve correspondence I must see to before dinner. Pendergast, no sense leaving only to return in a short while.”

“Yes, Hugo is right, Your Grace.” Mrs. Needham rose and swept her arm in an arc. “Do stay and make yourself comfortable. Read, nap ... pen a letter. Osbourne can provide you with anything you might need. Katrina, may I impose upon you to help me bundle the remaining clothing for the unfortunates? I promised Mrs. Huntington I’d have them for her tonight when she and the vicar come to dinner.”

“Of course.” Katrina curtsied prettily, bestowing one of her ever-ready smiles upon him. “Until later, Your Grace.”

Nic bowed, murmuring, “I look forward to dinner.”

Hopefully, he could manage the meal without a repeat of the tart episode or another maladroit incident.

After the Needhams departed, Nic stared out the window. What warped providence had landed him in this household with the one woman he wanted, but couldn’t have, for his duchess? He dragged a hand through his hair. Or lack of hair. That would take getting used to.

He snorted, startling Sir Pugsley from his slumber.

Nic had a whole buggered new life to get used to.

Osborne entered and, as he cleared the tea’s remnants, said, “Sir, might I suggest you partake in a rest in a guest chamber before refreshing yourself and joining the others for dinner?”

“Yes, Osborne, you might, and I shall gratefully accept your offer.”

Decent of the majordomo not to also suggest Nic change into something more appropriate for a dinner party. He brushed the front of his less-than-fashionable jacket. This coat was the nicest he owned, and compared to the Needhams’ fancy togs, he looked to have stepped from the poor house. The cast-off clothing Katrina and her mother even now wrapped for the unfortunates were likely finer garments.

Almost two hours later, Nic stood before the grand, carved mahogany fireplace in the same drawing room, sipping a glass of superior brandy. The flames illuminated the umber liquid, much finer than the swill he regularly drank aboard ship, or in port, for that matter. He didn’t frequent lofty establishments, but the same hellholes his crew favored.