The Black Duke's Prize (17 page)

"I shall consider returning later, Your Grace," she said
haughtily, and exited the room, leaving him behind to resume his laughter.

13

U
sed
as the servants at Hampton House were to entertaining high-ranking members of
the
ton,
the presence of the Duke of Sommesby had whipped them into
something of a frenzy. Even the already over-dignified Rawlins seemed to stand
straighter and loom taller with the Black Duke present.

Katherine found it rather amusing once she was certain Nicholas would be
all right. She had been more worried than she could say, and if she hadn't
thought that he would laugh at her, she would have told him so. She had finally
agreed to read
The Shrew,
but only because he'd teased her unmercifully
and told her she was cowhearted.

On the morning of the third day of his stay at Hampton House she went
into the garden to pick more flowers for
the
vase in his chamber. It was silly, she knew, but they ,.I gave her an excuse to
visit him.

"Katherine?"

She jumped, and turned around. Nicholas, jacketless and
looking handsome and a bit pale in buckskin breeches and
a black waistcoat, stood leaning against the wall of the house. Katherine
blushed, wondering how long he had j' been watching her. "Good
morning."

"Good morning." When he reached her side he leaned over and
sniffed the flowers bunched in her hand, and it was only with a conscious
effort that she resisted running her fingers through his dark hair. "For
me?" he asked, raising his head to look at her.

She nodded, abruptly fascinated by the deep-emerald flecks in his gray
eyes. "You and the duchess have such pretty eyes," she said, wishing
his would keep looking at her in that amused, affectionate way forever.

"My father used to say that the Varon family's greatest wealth lay
in the emerald of my mother's eyes," he murmured, then reached out to
touch Katherine's. cheek. "Though I find my favorite gem to be the
sapphire of yours."

"Oh, my," Kate whispered, then cleared her throat and turned
away. "I wanted to tell you, we'll have to delay finishing the play until
tomorrow. I'm going riding with Thomas and the others today."

"You see Thomas quite a bit, don't you?" he asked coolly, his
eyes on the garden.

"He's very nice to me," she replied, watching his face and
wondering what he
was thinking.

"I'm nice," he responded, his eyes glinting as he looked back
at her.

"I thought we had decided that you were irritating, selfish, and
provoking," she returned with a grin.

"Ah," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you have used those
same epithets on me before."

"You continue to earn them," she pointed out.

"You put me to the blush, m'dear," he drawled, walking over to
the stone bench by the path and seating himself. He fiddled with his watch fob
for a moment, then looked up at her. "I'm going home this afternoon,"
he said. "If I stay any longer people will begin to talk, if they haven't
begun already."

She looked away to hide her sudden keen disappointment that he was
leaving. "Can you ride?"

"I believe I will manage."

"I'm sorry I shot you," she apologized for the fiftieth time,
sitting beside him.

He grinned. "We both know it was my fault." He touched her
sleeve. "And I've never been wounded by a more attractive assassin."

She wasn't certain whether that was a compliment or not, and frowned.
"Would it have hurt more if I'd been ugly?" she countered.

"Infinitely," he replied. His hand drifted down her arm to her
wrist, and she shivered at the feathery-light touch. He turned her hand to
caress her palm, then twined his fingers with hers and tugged her closer.

"You think to win the argument this way, then?" she commented,
finding that her voice was shaking.

"Mm-hm." He raised her chin with his fingertips and kissed
her.

He was cheating again, but she decided that was all right. Nicholas
captured her other hand and placed both of her arms up around his neck before
he let his palms slide slowly down her body to her waist.

"Kate?"

Her entire body tingling, she pulled away and shot to her feet as Thomas
came around the comer. The viscount came to an abrupt stop as he saw them.
Nicholas remained seated, and though she didn't remember having dropped them,
the flowers she had picked were strewn across the bench and on the
ground,"

"Nick." The viscount spoke stiffly, his easy expression
darkening. "Glad to see you're all right."

"Thank you, Thomas," Nicholas returned coolly. Katherine
looked back and forth at the two of them for a moment, feeling the tension
there, and then smoothed at
i her skirts.
"Thomas, come inside," she said, and both gazes shifted to her, angry
pale-blue eyes and enigmatic dark-gray ones. "I need to get my hat and
gloves, and then we can go."

"Of course, Kate." The viscount offered her his arm. She took
it, and they headed back toward the house.

"Katherine."

She turned her head. Nicholas had picked up one of the discarded flowers
and tucked it into a buttonhole of his waistcoat.
"Au revoir,"
he
said, his accent impeccable.

"Can you make it inside on your own?" she asked, stopping.

"I believe so. If not, I assume someone will come looking for me
eventually."

She nodded, chuckling, and allowed Thomas to lead her inside. He waited
at the foot of the stairs while she hurried up to get her things. The groom had
already saddled
Win
ter, and in only a few moments they were on their way to
Hyde Park. With Nicholas hurt, she and the Hamptons had remained housebound,
and this was the first time she had been out in several days.

"Kate, I know I have no claim on you and it is therefore not my
place to speak, but if Nick has overstepped his bounds I beg that you will let
me see to it that he ceases bothering you." The viscount's voice was
deeply serious, and she was tom between amusement at his concern and annoyance
at his presumption.

"No one has overstepped anything," she replied, nodding as
they passed an acquaintance whose name she could not at that moment recall.

"But I saw―"

"No one has overstepped anything," she repeated firmly, and
though he blustered for a moment, he didn't press her further.

He sulked for the rest of the afternoon, however, which
had the result of making her testy and bringing Althaea
close to tears. For the first time she noted how closely the girl observed the
viscount, and saw how hard she tried to raise his spirits, to no avail. Kate
knew that Louisa and Reg were in love, but she hadn't realized Althaea had a
tendre
for Thomas Elder. Evidently the viscount hadn't realized it either, for he
was so concerned with being jealous of the Black Duke's erratic attentions to
her that he barely noticed the brown-eyed beauty.

On the return home he began pestering her again, and she decided she had
had enough. "Thomas, stop it."

"I only have your best interests in mind," he protested.

"I thought you and Sommesby were friends," she responded.

"We are," he agreed. "It's just that . . . that I care
for you, and I doubt he has your best interests in mind. He is infamous for
breaking hearts."

"I am aware of his reputation," she informed him with a frown,
"and I can take care of myself."

"But you can't, Kate. People are already beginning to talk, to
wonder if you are the Black Duke's latest."

She imagined that question to be on his mind as well. She couldn't
answer it, because she had no idea herself. "I don't care what people
think," she declared.

"You should."

"You were a great deal more fun before you became so stiff,"
she said with a sniff.

"I am not . stiff," he protested, his voice rising an indignant
octave.

"Yes, you are, and I shan't ride with you any longer. Go home,
Thomas."

"Not until I've seen you back to Hampton House," he replied,
still acting entirely too stiff for her taste. Perhaps she had spent too much
time in Nicholas's lax company.

"Nonsense. It's only a street away. Go home."

"Only if you say you're not angry at me," he said, giving in
a little.

"I'm not angry at you. And I shall consider what you have
said," she added, though for that moment she had no intention of doing
anything about it. Not if it meant she couldn't see Nicholas any longer.

"All right, then. May I call on you for tea tomorrow?"

"Of course," she replied.

He inclined his head and then pulled Orpheus around to leave her to ride
on by herself. She rode
 
Winter to the
stable, and William, the groom, helped her dismount. As she walked to the
house she pulled off her hat, tired of the way the pins stuck into her scalp,
and wondered if Nicholas had returned to Varon House already or whether they
had time to finish Act Four of
The Shrew.
Abruptly someone grabbed her
from behind.

Before she could protest, a dirty hand was placed over her mouth.
Terrified, she kicked out backward and was rewarded by a grunt and an oath,
and then she was pulled off balance, and someone grabbed her legs. Both men
were dirty-looking and dressed in rough homespun, and she was certain that she
had never seen them before.

Although Kate fought them all the way, the men dragged her around to the
back of the house, where the second one produced a stout rope, bound her legs,
and tied her hands behind her back. The men gagged her, and then a smelly cloth
sack was pulled over her head, so that she couldn't see.

She was lifted again, and after a very short time her hip bumped cruelly
against something and she was dumped on the ground. Not the ground, she
realized as it began to move. She was in some sort of coach. Panicking, she
flailed about again, and was rewarded by a rough kick in the leg.

"Stop your fighting, missy, or you'll get worse than that," a
gruff voice said, and she was shoved over on her side with the toe of a boot.

She lay still, wondering what was happening, where she was being taken.
Her panicked thoughts went to Nicholas, and she hoped with all her heart that
wherever he was he would know that she desperately needed help.

Nicholas was dozing before the fire in his library when a rapid pounding
sounded at the front door. His shoulder ached despite the two glasses of brandy
he had consumed after supper, and he had been loath to rise and make his way
upstairs to his bedchamber. Sleepily he looked at the clock on the mantel. It
was just past eight, so his visitor was likely one of his cronies, wondering
why he had ceased attending his clubs. He hoped Grimsby would get rid of
whoever it was, so he wouldn't have to explain that a madcap schoolroom chit
had him so distracted he seemed unable to win a game of jackstraws or
bilbo-catch, much less faro.

The library door was flung open, and he started and turned to view his
uninvited guest. "Neville?" he exclaimed, for the Baron of Clarey
was the last person he would have expected.

"Is she here?" Neville asked, looking frantically about the
room. "By God, if she is, you've made an enemy of
me!"

Grimsby had followed Neville into the room, and
with a jerk of his head Nicholas motioned him out. More than used to odd
goings-on at the Black Duke's residence, the butler complied and shut the door
behind him. "What the devil are you talking about?" he asked once
they were alone. Neville looked more than half in a panic, which was unusual
enough in itself, and the baron's words had started a queer, uneasy feeling in
the pit of his stomach.

"Is she here? Is Kate here? Your damned
closemouthed butler wouldn't say whether you were entertaining anyone or
not!"