The Notorious Nobleman (3 page)

“
Indeed?” he asked, blandly. “Are you
asking me to confirm whether or not your conclusion is
true?”

“
If you would be so good,” she
answered, dulcetly. “To own the truth, I’ve never before met anyone
who was truly rakish and depraved.”

He scowled at her. “And what makes you think
you would recognize such behavior if you saw it?”

“
I recognized it enough to know it is
probably how you came by your arm. You fought a duel this morning,
and I should hazard to wager you fought it over a lady.” When he
didn’t answer, she looked up at him and said, “Well,
didn’t
you?”

“
You would lose the wager,” he
retorted, unwilling to discuss the subject.

“
Did you fight over a game of cards,
then?”

“
Not this time.”

She turned her attention back to his
arm and quietly worked over his wound. After a moment, she couldn’t
resist asking, “I don’t suppose you would care to tell me
why
you fought a duel
today?”

“
No, I would not,” he said, curtly.
“And I should advise you not to pry into areas of which you know
nothing.”

She poured some more bourbon into the teacup
for him and said, softly, “I know that it takes two men to fight a
duel. What happened to the other man?”

He looked at her over the rim of the cup. “I
don’t know,” he said, quite honestly.

“
Is he . . .? Is he . . .?” She
couldn’t bring herself to finish the question because she suddenly
wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer. She hated to think she
was bandaging the arm of a man who had killed someone only hours
before.

Gavin frowned. “You’re very concerned over a
situation of which you know precious little,” he said, dampeningly.
“Save your pity! The man I fought this morning received no more
than he deserved.”

“
Did he deserve to die? Or did he just
deserve to be wounded?”

“
I told you, I don’t know his
condition. When I left him, he was still alive and under the care
of his second.”

Julia wished he had said something
else. She wished he had reassured her that the man he had fought
was alive and well and suffered from nothing more than a flesh
wound. She wished he had told her anything

even lies

as long as he had told her that he hadn’t hurt
anyone; for she was suddenly most heartily convinced the Duke had
killed the man with whom he had fought the duel.

Suddenly, Julia couldn’t bring herself to
touch him. She sat back on her heels, unable to trust her trembling
hands and equally unable to meet his eyes. Lord Warminster was, of
all things, the kind of man she most disliked, and now she was
filled with a sudden dread that his conduct was not only
unscrupulous, but criminal.

After a long moment she looked up at him and
saw that his dark gaze had never wavered from her face. His look
was watchful and knowing, and lacking any hint of repentance. Small
wonder, she thought, that tales of his black conduct should
circulate about the neighborhood, making him seem larger than life
and as evil as the devil himself.

She forced herself to meet his dark eyes and
asked, “Have you any way of discovering the man’s condition?”

“
I can think of nothing that would
interest me less.”

“
Don’t you care at all that you might
have killed him?”

“
Not in the least.” He was quiet a
moment, then he said, in a grudging voice, “As it happens, my own
second remained behind in London. He is a close and trusted friend,
and he will come to me as soon as he has word of the man’s
fate.”

“
Then, will you share the news with me
when you’ve heard it?”

“
Share it with

! My dear young woman, what possible reason
could you have for wanting to know that?”

“
Please?” she persisted.

He scowled at her. “I never make
promises.”

A shiver of cold went through Julia and she
tried to dispel it by forcing herself concentrate on his wound. She
studied it a moment and said, “About your arm: It is not as bad as
I originally thought and I can bandage it up again, but I think it
shall need to be sewn. You’ll need a surgeon for that.”

“
I don’t need a surgeon.”

“
Oh, but you do. The wound is much
too

”

“
And I don’t need your
advice!”

She said, patiently, “I am merely trying to
be a helpful, Christian woman.”

He corrected her: “On the contrary. You’re
trying to be a managing and meddling woman.”

Julia looked up at him quickly, an odd light
of recognition in her green eyes. “Do you know, my husband used to
say the very same thing.”

“
My sympathies to your
husband.”

Julia almost replied in anger. She almost
lost her temper and explained to this insufferable man what she
thought of his manners. Instead she pursed her soft, full lips into
a tight line before saying, still quite angry, “I’m going to wash
your wound with the spirits now.”

She didn’t give him time to brace himself or
argue. Instead, she swiftly doused bourbon on the cloth she had
been using and pressed it against his arm.

Gavin sucked in his breath; then just as
quickly, he let out a stream of epithets that sent the color flying
to her cheeks.

“
You did that on purpose!” he accused,
as soon as he could catch his breath.

She faced him with the calm of one who had
tasted revenge. “You’re being ridiculous. The wound has to be
cleansed. You don’t want to lose the use of your arm to infection,
do you?”

A bitter string of curses rose in the back of
his throat, but he checked them and concentrated instead on
regaining the mastery of himself.

He watched her douse the cloth with bourbon
again and he buttressed his will against what he knew was coming.
This time, he wouldn’t cry out; this time, he wouldn’t let her
surprise him into betraying an emotion as cheap as pain. This time,
he’d show the prim-and-proper little widow who she was dealing
with.

Julia worked over his wound, knowing all the
while that he had steeled himself against her touch. She felt his
dark eyes upon her and she was a little unnerved by it.

“
Talk to me,” he commanded, after a
moment in which he had clenched his teeth so tight his jaw
hurt.

She looked up at him, her green eyes wide.
“About what?”

“
Anything! Talk about your
husband

your William.” His
arm hurt like the devil, but he forced himself to concentrate
instead on her. “Tell me about him. You still mourn, do you not?
How long has it been?”

She decided to ignore his first question.
“He’s been gone these twelve months now. I’m just out of black
ribbands.”

His gaze swept over the form-fitting habit
she wore. “From the way you are dressed, you look more like a merry
widow than a grieving one.”

Julia looked down at the green velvet
material of her riding kit, then looked up to flash him a brilliant
smile. “Thank you!”

“
I didn’t mean that as a compliment,”
he said, in a grumbling tone.

“
Oh, but you were much more
complimentary than you shall ever know. You see, my riding habit is
my most prized possession.”

That surprised a bark of laughter out of him.
“Is it? Then I should wager your possessions are few, indeed!”

“
And you would win that wager,” she
replied, quite unperturbed. “I have, truly, nothing else of
value.”

His gaze swept over her again. With a
practiced eye Gavin recognized the fine tailoring of the green
velvet riding outfit she wore. The material was lush and full and
had probably been quite expensive at the time of its purchase. The
jacket and skirt had been cut to accentuate the perfection of her
figure. Workmanship like that didn’t come cheap; yet he also
realized that the style of the kit had to be at least five or six
years old.

“
I’m not certain I believe you,” he
said, quite frankly. “You strike me as the kind of woman who would
have new gowns, including new riding habits, every year. Why do you
go on without them?”

“
I go on without them because I have no
choice to do otherwise,” she replied, calmly. “I have no money, you
see.”

He said, dismissively, “I am told it is not
uncommon for women to fall on hard times once they find themselves
widowed.”

“
Is it? Then I shall take comfort in
knowing I am not alone in my present circumstance,” she said, with
the hint of a smile. “It makes no never mind, for I don’t intend to
dwell on what has occurred in the past. Now that I’ve thrown off my
black, I intend to don my old gowns and attend all the parties,
balls and assemblies I am able. My stay with Harriet Clouster is my
first social visit in more than a year and I hope I may have many
more.”

He frowned. “Who the devil is Harriet
Clouster?”

“
I already told you,” she said, with
exaggerated patience. “Harriet Clouster is the vicar’s wife. She is
my oldest and dearest friend. We have known each other since our
cradle days.”

There was something in her tone that stung
him. “You say that as if you expected me to know her.”

“
Well, she
is
the wife of your vicar, after all. Her
husband has his living from you.”

“
Oh.
Him
.”

She almost laughed. “I don’t suppose you and
the vicar have very much in common.”

“
And what in the name of hell do you
mean by that?” he demanded, one dark brow flying to a challenging
angle.

She didn’t answer right away; but a moment
later, she asked, in a quiet voice, “Do you always curse so in the
presence of a lady?”

“
No, dammit, I do not!” The words, from
habit, were out before he could stop them, and he saw her full lips
press into a tight line. He thought of apologizing, but discarded
the notion as soon as it was born. He said, instead, “It happens
that I am rarely in a lady’s presence.”

“
So it would seem,” she murmured,
vividly conjuring the memory of all the many bits of conversation
she had overheard about the Duke’s scandalous behavior.

“
So! You’ve been listening to the
gossips, have you? What have you heard about me?”

She took up a clean piece of bed linen and
began tearing long strips from its length. She said, evasively, “I
don’t think it wise for me to repeat tales I should never have
overheard in the first place.”

“
Faintheart!” he accused. “I would have
pegged you as a woman with more bottom!”

“
Oh, no!” she said with a slight laugh.
“You shan’t bully me into repeating nonsense!”

“
Does that mean you don’t believe any
of the stories people whisper about me?”

“
No. It means I believe only the
worst
of the stories!” she answered,
with a smile of great sweetness.

Disarmed, Gavin almost smiled back, but he
quickly schooled his expression into a frown and grumbled, “You’re
no different than all the others.”

“
In what manner?”

“
You believe every wretched rumor and
every vile story that passes from one clucking tongue to
another.”

“
Do I?” she asked, with a credible
imitation of wonder.

“
Don’t be coy, madam. It doesn’t suit
you!”

“
Lift your arm, please,” commanded in a
business-like tone.

He obeyed without thinking and watched as
Julia pressed a pad of clean cloth against his wound and began to
twine a strip of bed linen about his arm to hold it in place.

“
If you truly believe I am as depraved
as people say, you should never have stayed here with me,” he said.
“You should have left as soon as you discovered my identity. Common
sense should have told you the danger you were in by remaining in
my presence.”

“
And step instead out into a
thunderstorm where I might be struck by lightening? Thank you, but
I should rather remain here with you. You are the lesser of two
evils, you see!”

“
If anyone were to discover our
situation, you would be quite ruined, you know.”

“
Why?” she asked, most innocently.
“
Should
I be afraid of
you?
Are
you as evil as the
gossips say?”

“
Decidedly!”

“
You don’t strike me as the kind of man
who kicks puppies and plucks the wings off butterflies.”

“
Is that your idea of evil behavior?
You
are
an
innocent!”

“
Am I? Then I dare say I should like to
remain so.” She tied off the ends of the bandage and stood up.
“That should hold, I think, until you may at least reach your home
and have it properly attended.”

Gavin flexed his elbow a bit to test her work
and had to admit his arm felt much better than it had before. He
was beginning the feel a bit more like himself and his temper was
much improved.

“
Where did you learn to tie a bandage
in such a manner?” he asked.