Only Scandal Will Do (17 page)

Duncan sighed. “Very good, Grayson. You will be compensated well for your discretion, as always.” The butler bowed and left.

How ironic that his past bad behavior would now disguise his current misdeeds. His bachelor
entertainments
were well known to his servants; no talk, at least none that approached the truth of the matter, would come from today’s meeting with Katarina. All parties to be present were gentlemen, or at least honorable men, so he had little fear the scandal or today’s wager would be exposed.

He pulled a white, loose-sleeved shirt, open in the front, over his head and tucked the tail into his waistband. Though attired in his normal fencing costume, he would be much less formally dressed than usual in the presence of a woman, but he felt no compunction to change. If his dishabille caused Lady Katarina to be uncomfortable, that was simply one more weapon in his arsenal. Not that he would need anything other than his considerable skill at swordplay. Although he really must not underestimate the lady. She would likely have surprises of her own.

The clock struck ten as Duncan descended, his tread light upon the stairs, and made his way to the first floor ballroom. The spacious room was cleared of all furniture except for a long table set against one of the gold brocaded walls. This table held refreshments, not quite the thing for a normal duel, but this was hardly a normal duel. No man wanted to ply his opponent with food and drink, but he wanted amenities such as wine and spirits available after the match, in case Katarina was fatigued. He had ordered cook also to leave a supply of tea, chocolate, and a variety of pastries to fortify the party as well.

Tristan, Viscount Trevor stood just inside the doorway, eyeing the party opposite.

“Good of you to be here, Tris.” Duncan nodded and clamped a hand to his friend’s shoulder.

Tristan waved away the thanks. “Glad to oblige.” Dressed in the casual elegance of buff and blue, Tristan observed the occupants of the room with a crooked smile that said he found these proceedings a great lark.

“Where’s Tommy? I haven’t seen him in almost a month.”

“Haven’t seen him today.” Tristan shook his head. “He cut quite a figure at Charbury’s last night, though. Drunk as a fiddler’s bitch when I left, and that was after two.”

“Christ!” Charbury’s was one of the rougher gaming hells in London. “Well, we can only hope he’ll find his way here momentarily. Will you come meet my opponent?” He grinned and led the way across the floor to where Manning stood beside Matthews, talking to a young man he did not recognize.

Duncan bowed to the men, as did Lord Trevor, but he darted glances about, looking for Katarina. Perhaps she was in another room with her maid, making last minute preparations. “Lord Manning, may I make known to you Viscount Trevor, my second. Lord Trevor, you have already met Mr. Matthews. Good of you to come. But will you be so kind as to introduce me to your friend here, Manning?” He gestured to the young man he had come up behind, but who had not turned to greet him. “I did not know you were bringing another witness.”

“I would say we have already been introduced several times, Lord Dalbury,” said the youth, finally turning. “Do you not recognize me, my lord?” Katarina smiled merrily as she tugged on her shirtsleeves, easing them down under the coat sleeves.

Duncan’s mouth slackened with shock. The well-fitting garments that, from the back, had hidden her form showed absolutely every one of Lady Katarina’s lovely curves. His attention kept straying to the fawn colored breeches. Neatly buckled below the knee, thank God. What would he have done if she had shown her knees? The breeches hugged her hips–her hips!–defining the curvaceous body he remembered so vividly.

He forced his eyes up, relaxing somewhat at the coat that resembled a lady’s riding costume. It was, however, a man’s garment, a sleeved waistcoat, in cherry-red worsted with silver buttons down the front, over a plain linen shirt. No evidence of stays. Sweet Christ, her breasts would be unconfined during the duel. What if he injured them?

Her magnificent auburn hair was pulled back from her face, but he’d seen no evidence of locks down her back when he approached her. “What have you done to your hair?” His uneasiness at her costume became full-blown panic. God, had she cut her hair for the duel?

“It’s braided and tucked under her jacket, my lord.” Jack’s voice broke Duncan’s stupefying horror. “She does that when she fences.”

She continued her unhurried toilette, checking buttons, straightening the jacket’s shoulders, adjusting her breeches, paying him no mind. Then she dipped her fingers to her stocking and smoothed it along her calf. Like steel to a magnet, mouth slightly open, he stood enthralled by the soft, sensual look of legs he had only glimpsed before. He could no more tear his eyes away from her than a fish could walk on dry land.

“And will you introduce
me
to the lady, Duncan?” Tristan’s words recalled Duncan.

He drew breath sharply then scowled at Lord Trevor, who grinned eagerly, all the while taking in Katarina’s scandalous appearance. He would like nothing better than to refuse, but steadied himself.

“Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, may I make known to you Lord Trevor, my second.” He glared at Trevor. “And sometime friend. Watch yourself, Tris.”

Lord Trevor merely laughed and bowed. “My great pleasure, Lady Katarina. Duncan has told me something of you, though I believe he left out the most interesting parts.”

She laughed gaily and shook her head. “Lord Dalbury does not know the most interesting parts, my lord.” She cut her eyes toward Duncan. “We have had very little acquaintance.”

“Regrettable for Lord Dalbury, I am sure, my lady.”

“Indeed, Lord Trevor.” Katarina turned to Duncan. “We are waiting for your other second, I believe, my lord? My lord?”

While she talked to Tris, Duncan had envisioned her standing in his bedroom, one foot on a chair, taking her stockings off to reveal the creamy flesh of her legs and ankles. Those breeches left so little to the imagination that... He shook his head, then turned toward the table, grabbed a glass, and liberally splashed brandy into it. The amber liquid traced a fiery path into his stomach, jolting him out of his stupor. He sucked in a deep breath and fought to maintain his composure.

Behind him, Katarina laughed. “I trust you do not begin each morning with such a libation? Perhaps today, however, you need help to steady your nerves.”

He could not let her goad him into unwise actions. “Why are you dressed so provocatively, Lady Katarina? I am astounded that your brother let you out of the house dressed so.” He turned toward her, determined to show only a cool disdain for her clothes.

And failed miserably. The close-fitting stockings showed off her calves and neat ankles in a fetching manner. He closed his eyes, hoping to dispel the image, but it appeared as if seared on his inner eyelids.

“My brother never had any objection to my dress, my lord. Neither did my father, nor the men in his regiment.”

“His regiment!” Duncan’s eyes flew open and Tristan smothered a laugh. “You mean to tell me that other men have seen your legs like that? Your ankles?”

Katarina threw her head back and laughed again. “Tell him, Jack. He may not believe the truth, coming from me.” She picked up her weapon and began to limber up.

“She’s always fenced in these clothes, Dalbury,” Manning said. “Since she began lessons. She tried skirts, but even short skirts proved unmanageable. One day she appeared for our lesson wearing what you see before you, and dared me to make a fuss. They’re my cast-off clothing, altered to fit tolerably well.”

Duncan scowled. It galled him that Matthews had seen his wife’s legs.
Soon to be wife.
He opened his mouth to make another objection but Katarina interrupted.

“If you wish me to change into skirts, Lord Dalbury, I will oblige you.” Her sickeningly sweet voice told him a barb was on the way. “But only if you will change likewise.”

“Into what?”

“Why, skirts of course,” the imp had the audacity to say. “I insist that I duel with an opponent who is equally handicapped.” She beamed. “No? Then I will remain so attired.”

Katarina paused, glancing around. “Where is your other second? The time was appointed for ten o’clock and your most excellent clocks have already struck the hour. I am ready, as are my seconds, but am sadly ignorant of the protocol in such matters. May I inquire if such a breach of etiquette warrants forfeiture?” Brows raised, she gave him a charming smile.

About to deny such a penalty, he paused. A commotion in the hallway captured his attention. Moments later, a disheveled Tommy Redmond careened into the room. Nodding to Lady Katarina, Duncan grinned. “I believe your point is rendered moot, my lady.”

Tommy was on the verge of crashing into the refreshment table. Duncan strode to his friend, who seemed much the worse for wear. “God, Tommy, what are you playing at? She started talking forfeit. Pull yourself together, man. Where have you been?” In addition to looking as though Tommy’s clothes had been slept in, his garments reeked of some cloying perfume. An oddly familiar scent.

“Been amusing myself, don’t you know, old chap?” Tommy drawled. “First time in a month or more. Father finally reinstated my allowance, so I went out for a night on the town. Just got home when I remembered you. Got to stand as your second for the duel and as your witness for the wedding.” Leaning close and almost tipping over in the process, he asked in the raised volume preferred by all the inebriated, “Which one do we do first?”

Before he could shush the befuddled man, Katarina stalked over, cold contempt covering her face like a mask. “It sounds as though you have anticipated the wedding again, my lord. Are you so very sure of the outcome of this wager that you have already laid plans for the nuptials? Should I lay another wager on whether you have about you a special license? Or what time the clergyman is supposed to appear?” Her words fell like icicles. “I daresay I could raise a substantial dowry with such wagers.”

Tommy chose that unfortunate moment to surface from his alcoholic haze. “Who the devil is that chap, Duncan? You goin’ to take that cheek off such a stripling? Gad, call him out after this one is done. He can’t be less experienced than your bride, do you think? Where is the gel, by the by? Shouldn’t we be done with this by now?”

Duncan cheerfully considered strangling his friend, but refrained. If he simply ran him through, perhaps it could be put down to an accident during the duel. Katarina had not raised her weapon yet, which he found encouraging. But the fire in her eyes, he feared, was all for him. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of fire he hoped for.

“Tommy, you arse, this
is
Lady Katarina, who has challenged me to this duel...wager. Keep a civil tongue in your head or I will cut it out for you. My lady,” he said, in a lowered tone designed to placate. He met her eyes also, in hopes of blunting her anger. “My apologies for Mr. Redmond’s rude behavior. He is, as you can see, quite foxed. Pay him no mind, I pray you. Lord Trevor,” he called to Tristan as the one sane harbor left him. “Will you stand my second so we may proceed?”

With an amused glance at Katarina, Trevor nodded. Duncan, now fully supporting the unconscious Tommy, inclined his head toward Matthews, who stood by like some bird of prey waiting to swoop in to rectify any breach of protocol. Trevor approached Matthews and while they conversed, Duncan half carried, half dragged Tommy to the nearest wall, slid him down and sat him up against the gold-patterned brocade. Better out than creating mischief.

Matthews gave a yelp of laughter. Tris must have given him the alternative to the wager. He never imagined Katarina would capitulate without the drawing of blood. Now he just hoped to make the deed swift and as painless as possible. He cringed from the thought. Was there no other way?

At the weapons table, he selected his blade and began to prepare. Katarina had retired to her end of the room and waited in a relaxed stance. She held the sword naturally in a gloved hand, her grip sure, as if with long hours of practice.

He watched the snug cut of her breeches hug her calves and thighs as she executed a series of practice lunges. If only he could strip off that garment to feast his eyes on the smooth, creamy flesh of her lean thighs. Trace the curve of her sleek calf with a reverent hand all the way up to...

His breath caught in his throat, stifling the harsh rasp of his panting. With Herculean effort, Duncan dragged his gaze away from her siren’s form. He pulled on his gauntlets, reached for his sword–and stole another glimpse of her. Damn! How in hell was he to focus on the duel with such a distraction before him?

Cursing under his breath, he looked over his shoulder. Katarina now stood between Dr. Pritchett, who had arrived just after Tommy, and Matthews, seeming relaxed and calm. She raised her head and, catching his look, sent a dimpled smile his way.

Damn the woman! He’d wager she could fence just fine in skirts and had donned this outlandish costume merely to distract him. The idea of her cold, calculating nature steadied him, brought him back from the brink of a muddled disaster. He’d show her. He would give her the five minutes he’d promised himself, then a swift cut to her arm and his torture would be over.

Now completely composed, he affected a careless air as he walked to the center of the ballroom where chalk lines delineated the combat area to await his opponent. Katarina embraced Matthews, making every hair on Duncan’s head stand on end. “That is not the usual method to acknowledge a second, Lady Katarina,” he hissed as she took her stance across from him.