Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (14 page)

She peered ahead. There wasn’t a church steeple to be seen on the horizon. She dared not ask how far he thought they would have to walk. That would smack of complaining.

But if she dared not complain, could she dare apologize?

She fell a few paces behind him as they ascended a hill. She watched as his long legs, encased half in fawn-colored breeches and half in sturdy leather boots, effortlessly made the climb. His shoulders, covered by his dark-blue coat, were immense. His black hair fell just below his collar in slight curls that wisped about in the breeze. That same breeze caused his coattails to flutter and permitted her a view of that taut backside she remembered seeing naked yesterday morning. She’d probably never see it that way again.

That same breeze was also blowing her pelisse in several different directions and threatening to send her capote bonnet flying from her head. But the wind had blown harder than this out on the moors.

Near the crest of the hill he paused and turned to look back at her, his lips pressed firmly together as if he were fighting the urge to explode and blast her with a fresh barrage of wrath.

Apologize, Kate. Tell him now. Don’t wait until he finds out the way he found out you weren’t really Margaret Hathaway.

She caught up to him and met his fierce gaze. “I’m sorry.”

To her chagrin, he didn’t say a word but just stood there, surveying the road ahead of them. It continued to wind around hills and through patches of trees. Kate saw a few farms here and there but no sign of a village. The sun lurked behind thick clouds, so she couldn’t ascertain just how late in the afternoon it was. Nathan probably had a watch, but she wasn’t about to ask what time it was. For some reason, she felt as if that would be a complaint.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I know I tricked you, and I meant to tell you eventually who I really was, because I honestly didn’t like being Margaret Hathaway, and if you could’ve met her, you’d understand why. But she was afraid if you took her, she’d never see her beloved Mr. Swingle again. And Freddy did abandon her there.”

“I know all that,” he finally said. “At what point were you planning to tell me who you really were?”

“Truth be told, I wanted to tell you yesterday morning, while we were waiting for the stage. I swear to you I was about to tell you just as they threw my portmanteau out the window. And after that there never seemed to be a good time to tell you. When we stopped last night, you told me to remain silent, so I did. I know I’ve been nothing but trouble. If not for me, you wouldn’t have lost your carriage, or missed the stage, or spent all that extra coin, or—”

“Or kissed you?” he said, to her everlasting astonishment.

She swallowed hard as crimson heat scorched her face, or maybe that was just from the exertion of walking. She met his piercing gaze. “Was that really a great deal of trouble?”

He started downhill. “That’s probably the one time when you were no trouble at all.”

And just what did he mean by that? Kate scurried after him. “So I’m probably being trouble now? I mean, you’re having to walk to the next village because of me.”

“You’re having to make that walk, too,” he pointed out. “You’re not tired yet?”

“I did a lot of walking on the moors this past year. There was little else to do at Bellingham Hall. As I told you, I could walk to London if I had to.”

“We need only walk about seven miles,” Nathan said. “Actually, only five now, since we’ve already walked about two. I told Bilby to meet us at the next village with our baggage. But I’ve done a lot of hiking in the Scottish Highlands, so these Derbyshire hills aren’t too much of a challenge for me. Did you enjoy those long walks?”

“Not when the wind was blowing too hard, or when mists were rolling in from the North Sea,” she replied. “But it was something to do besides sitting all day. There were no books to read, unless I wanted to pore through my stepfather’s old estate ledgers. I actually read the Holy Bible from cover to cover—well, except for First Chronicles. All that endless begetting nearly left me unconscious. At least Second Chronicles had a little more action.”

She thought she heard him chuckle at that. Or maybe it was just a grunt as he jumped over a huge rut in the road. She stepped around it.

“You mentioned before that you liked to read,” he said. “You like to sit next to the fireplace with a cup of tea and a book.”

“Oh yes, I enjoy that more than anything, next to playing the pianoforte,” she replied. “And that’s another reason I want to go to London. More lending libraries. I suppose they have them in York, but it’s too far away from Bellingham Hall to make regular visits. The day before yesterday was the first time I’d been to York since coming up here last year.”

“They have lending libraries in Edinburgh,” Nathan said. “I also have a rather extensive library, but not in London. I keep most of my books at our estate in Scotland.”

“Is that near Edinburgh?”

“Close enough that it’s not too much trouble to reach Edinburgh if need be, but far enough away to seem like the country,” he replied. “It’s a small castle on the edge of a loch surrounded by hills higher and craggier than these. I enjoy hiking on them during the summer months.”

Kate thought that sounded very picturesque, unlike the desolate Yorkshire moors. And there were no lochs or even lakes near Bellingham Hall. Just a stream.

“Sometimes I like to ride,” he added. “It can be tricky riding a horse up and down some of those Scottish trails, but it’s made me a skilled horseman. I don’t suppose you ride?”

“Not at all,” she said with a sigh. “I take it you’ve lived in Scotland most of your life?”

“You might say that. I was mainly trying to keep out of the way of my half brother, who preferred London.”

“You might say that’s what I’m trying to do,” said Kate. “Stay out of the way of my stepfather.”

Nathan darted a sharp look at her. “Was he cruel to you?”

“He’s never struck me, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m relieved to hear that, but there’s more to cruelty than just physical violence.” His voice suddenly took on what Kate could only describe as an edge.

“He simply resents me. He considers my mere presence in his household to be more trouble than he needs.” She dared a smile. “After these past few days, perhaps you might be able to empathize.”

He didn’t smile back. “I empathize, Miss Baxter, but not with him. I know what it’s like to feel like an outsider in one’s own family. Was it just you and your mother and stepfather?”

She nodded. “His sister was married to a wealthy London merchant who kept my stepfather afloat. After her death more than a year ago, her widower was no longer obliged to cover Bellingham’s debts, so Bellingham decided to exile himself to his ancestral pile to make a go of the estate and maybe break himself of the gambling habit that’s responsible for most of his debt. Unfortunately, my mother and I had to go with him. Of course I understand why my mother had to go—she’s married to him. I would’ve preferred to remain in London with my brother. But he was newly married and persuaded me that I needed to go with my mother and look after her.”

“And now you’re no longer looking after her,” Nathan said.

“She seems content with her lot,” Kate replied. “Bellingham may not resent her, but he does resent me because I’m another man’s daughter, ergo he doesn’t feel responsible for me. She’s the one who urged me to seek a governess position in York. When you’re as old as I am and have no dowry—and I have Bellingham to thank for that—there aren’t too many other options.”

“If you’re not his real daughter, then he’s scarcely obligated to dower you.”

“Nor should he have any right to my dowry for that same reason, yet that’s exactly what happened after he married my mother,” Kate said bitterly. “He gambled it away, and my mother never said a word of protest. She’s never been a very assertive person.”

To her pleasant surprise, Nathan favored her with a smile. “Then you must take after your father.”

She hoped she hadn’t inherited her father’s penchant for infidelity. He’d died while bedding none other than Lord Bellingham’s sister. “I’d certainly like to think so. He was a soldier, because he was the second son.”

“I was a soldier because I was the second son,” Nathan said. “My half brother never seemed inclined to marry, so I always knew in the back of my mind that I would very likely one day inherit his title. He was fifteen years old when I was born. His mother died giving birth to him, and my father remarried years later to a much younger woman—my mother—who wasn’t much older than my half brother. Just a hunch I’ve always had, but I think he must’ve resented me as much as your stepfather does you.”

“Well, at least we’re getting to know each other better because we’re having to walk such a distance,” she remarked. “How else would you know, for instance, that I like to read and play the pianoforte? Or how would I ever know that you own such an extensive library?”

“Truth be told, you already struck me as the sort of lady who might enjoy reading,” he said. “Though maybe that’s because of the spectacles. Do you really need to wear them, or are they part of your Margaret Hathaway disguise?”

She felt a twinge of annoyance. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t be wearing them anymore. Without them you’re just a blur. Please don’t tell me you think I enjoy reading simply because I have to wear them?”

“Well, that’s part of it,” he said with a shrug, and she thought she detected just a hint of sheepishness in his tone. “I noticed you also had some books in your portmanteau when it broke open after they threw it out the window yesterday. That and you’re not just another featherbrained chit. You’re far too bright for your own good.”

“Now you sound like my mother,” she said with a pout, though she thrilled with a frisson of satisfaction at his words. Odd how she never felt that way whenever her mother said it, or maybe that was because her mother said it as if it were a serious defect in Kate’s character.

Nathan, on the other hand, made it sound like a compliment. And a real compliment, too, instead of the backhanded one he’d delivered earlier when he’d said she seemed quite capable of spinning a good Banbury tale.

“Still, something tells me if you’d managed to hire a carriage, we’d just be sitting next to each other in stone-cold silence with no conversation at all,” she said. “I’d be staring out one window while you’d be staring out the other. I only hope that when you choose your bride at that Cinderella ball your aunt is planning, that you’ll go strolling with her before you get down on bended knee, so you might get to know each other better.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when the time comes,” he replied.

* * * *

She did have a point, Nathan thought—they
were
getting to know each other better this way. He’d never wanted to know her at all, but suddenly he was curious to learn more about her, now that he knew they had a few things in common. Would he be able to find a bride who enjoyed reading and taking long walks over bucolic terrain?

“This terrain is a little rougher than what you must be used to,” he said.

“Perhaps, but it’s certainly more interesting,” she replied. “I was thinking you must really enjoy long walks near your Scottish castle.”

“Very much.” And she sounded as if she might enjoy them, too.

For all the trouble she’d caused him thus far, he was glad she wasn’t causing the sort of trouble he might have expected from one of those debutantes waiting for him in London. He wondered how many of them would have made it this far before they started whining and complaining or worse, breaking down in tears. Katherine had come close to doing the latter back at that village where they’d missed the stage, but only because she didn’t want to return to Bellingham Hall. Nathan knew he could never send her back to a place where she wasn’t wanted. Her mother didn’t even seem to want her, though maybe Lady Bellingham had been trying to do her daughter a favor by urging her to take a governess position. Yet Nathan couldn’t help thinking Katherine could do better than that.

Only what she could do, he didn’t know. As she’d pointed out, there weren’t many options for a woman like her.

She talked a bit more about her family, especially her brother to whom she’d always been close, while he talked about growing up in Scotland, where he was raised by his father’s brother who, like Nathan, had also been a second son and made his own way in the world as a wool merchant. His uncle and aunt never had children, so when the uncle passed away, Nathan inherited the business while his aunt took up residence in London, where she was now hoping to match him up with a bride at that ball she was planning.

“What happened to your mother?” Katherine asked curiously.

While they’d been opening up to each other about a great many things, he still didn’t feel comfortable opening up about that, so he told her only what most people believed. “When I was about ten years old, she left me with my uncle and aunt while she went traveling to the Continent. My brother told me later that she’d taken ill and died.” That last sentence was true—his brother had indeed told Nathan that.

It was another eight years before he learned that his brother, as usual, had lied to him.

And Nathan had perpetuated the lie, while the truth continued to govern his actions to literally this very moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Ten is too young to lose one’s mother.”

“And six is too young to lose one’s father,” he replied. “My uncle and aunt became my parents, and I was very fortunate for that. I’m fine.”

She paused to glance around. “I say, do you hear horses? I don’t see anyone coming on the horizon, so they must be coming up behind us.”

They both turned to see a carriage coming just over a hill, rumbling in their direction. The two of them moved into the tall grass at the side of the road as it thundered past.

And then it stopped in the very middle of the road.

“You don’t suppose they mean to take pity on us?” she inquired. “It does look like rain.”

Indeed, thick, gray clouds scudded across the cerulean sky, enough to portend rain, if not now, then certainly later in the day.