Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (11 page)

Kate shivered at the thought of what she’d barely dodged. What else had she dodged when she fled that mysterious barouche yesterday?

“Could I offer you my coat?” asked Nathan. “’Tis a bit cool out this morning.”

“No, thank you, I’ll be fine. As long as we keep walking, I should stay warm.”

He seemed in an affable mood this morning. Perhaps she could tell him the truth. Perhaps he wouldn’t send her back to Bellingham Hall. Perhaps he would still agree to take her to London and his Aunt Verity, only instead of taking a position as someone’s companion or governess, she could simply go straight to her brother’s house in Mayfair. If she and Nathan kept quiet about their little odyssey from Yorkshire, then Anthony, who’d always been a stickler for propriety even after marrying the scandalous Georgiana Hayward, wouldn’t insist the duke do the honorable thing and marry her.

Yet something somewhere in that plan bothered her.

By now they’d reached the south end of the village, and they turned to head in the opposite direction, just in time to see a large object fall from an upper story window of the inn.

“
My portmanteau
!”
Kate screamed as she lifted her skirts and broke into a run up the street, dodging carts and horses and gawping villagers.

To her horror, the portmanteau crashed to the ground and flew open, spilling her clothes everywhere. Nathan suddenly flashed by her, his long legs like wings that flew over the muddy ruts of the street as he reached the scene ahead of her, waving away anyone who came scurrying over to see if there was anything worth plundering.

Fortunately, Kate didn’t think she possessed anything of value. Her clothes were two seasons old, and she didn’t have any jewelry. She had a couple of books by Miss Austen, a stack of sheet music, a doll she’d kept from childhood, and her diary, which would scarcely be of interest to anyone save her mother.

She caught up to Nathan just in time to see her pelisse, followed by her bonnet, fly out of the window. He deftly caught both as she crouched down to begin feverishly gathering her things. Sheet music fluttered about, tossed by a maddening breeze that suddenly chose this very inconvenient moment to kick up. She longed to scream again.

Bilby popped up from somewhere, and Nathan directed him to track down all the sheet music, while Kate hastily picked up her clothes and retrieved her wax doll.

“Could I assist you with that?” he queried. He still held her pelisse and bonnet. “I only ask because I might not be able to avoid handling your unmentionables, and you may find that quite improper.”

“I believe we are past worrying about things like that.” She struggled to fold each item of clothing she picked up before replacing it in the portmanteau along with her doll. Nathan slung the pelisse over his shoulder and set about scooping up anything that didn’t look like an undergarment. She didn’t think it mattered since she’d already seen him naked.

And she couldn’t even think about that right now, as much as she longed to.

Bilby came trotting over with a stack of sheet music, trying in vain to straighten out all the papers. Kate took them and thanked him then set about straightening them herself while Nathan brushed off her books, smoothing any bent pages before placing them in the portmanteau.

He handed her the bonnet. “Is that everything? I must apologize again. I should’ve sent Bilby upstairs straightaway.”

“That’s everything,” she said.

The crowd dispersed as Nathan bent over to close and secure the portmanteau before glancing up at the open window, as if he expected more objects to come flying out. The southbound stage rolled up just then, and he motioned to her to take a seat inside.

“Bilby and I will ride up top,” he said. “As you might recall from last night, I don’t fit too well in a carriage with other people.”

That, and sitting topside meant he wouldn’t have to talk to her, sit next to her or across from her with his muscular legs clamped on either side of her scrawny ones, or even look at her after what happened first thing this morning.

Or worse, offer to marry her. And all because he’d kissed her and she’d seen…him. It.

In her ten long years of spinsterhood, Kate had heard of many a chit who’d had to marry because she’d been caught in a compromising position with some young buck. To think a kiss was all it took!

And Kate had never been kissed until today. No man had ever wanted to take her into a dark garden, or a shadowy alcove, or a secluded balcony, and steal a kiss.

On the remote chance he did offer for her, she’d have to tell him who she really was. He still thought she was Margaret Hathaway, abandoned by her scoundrel of a brother.

She lifted her gloved hand to her lips that, over an hour later, still burned from his own. She knew it wasn’t from the tea she’d had at breakfast. She wondered how his own lips felt or if he was even thinking of her the way she was thinking of him right now as the stage finally lurched into motion.

Pondering Nathan Fraser and that kiss and
it
provided some diversion on the journey. It also seemed to make her more restless than usual, and she squirmed quite a bit, annoying the other passengers who just wanted to nap.

Whenever they stopped to change horses, she would get out and stretch, breathing deeply of fresh air before seeking the nearest necessary. Afterward she would look for Nathan, who was never hard to find because he was taller than everyone else. Their conversation was identical at each stop.

“How are you doing, Miss Hathaway?” Apparently he had no intention of continuing their fleeting charade as brother and sister, which made her wonder what would happen when they stopped at an inn for the night.

“I’m doing just fine, Mr. Fraser.” She always gave him a smile, not wanting him to see how much she dreaded getting back inside that dark stage with all those strangers and even stranger odors. She wondered why he didn’t just hire another carriage. What sort of duke was he?

At least he always smiled back. “Are you ready to return home yet?”

“Not at all.” And that was the truth.

“Would you care for some lemonade, or even a pasty?” She noticed he ate the meat-filled pastry at every stop they made.

“Yes, please.” Guilt lanced her at the knowledge that he was paying for her room, board, and even her transportation when he was under no obligation to do so. Yet she didn’t dare tell him the truth for fear he might use that as grounds to put her on another stage going in the opposite direction.

She always thanked him for buying her food and drink, and his reply was always, “’Tis nothing.” Perhaps it was, since he was a very wealthy duke.

They would slowly walk back to the coach in silence, and with each step she told herself,
Tell him! Tell him the truth!

But it was the one thing she couldn’t bring herself to say to him.

And so it went until they finally made a stop at dusk. Before she had the chance to go in search of a necessary, he approached her and in an undertone said, “We’ll stay here for the night. If there’s anything you want to say, say it now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

He widened his own eyes. They seemed to gleam in the golden light spilling out of the mullioned windows of the coaching inn, and she thought she felt her knees buckling, or maybe that was from having been crammed in the coach all day. “Because once we’re inside, I believe it would be in your best interests as well as mine if you remain silent while I bespeak our rooms. I intend to tell them you’re my sister, same as last night, so unless you can mimic my rather unique accent, and I fancy few people can, I strongly suggest you remain in your room, taking your supper there, and above all keep your lips sealed until morning.”

He had a point. They’d been lucky last night. A respectable innkeeper was not likely to give them rooms if he suspected for even a moment that they weren’t married or siblings. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a pang of disappointment that Nathan insisted on pretending to be the latter.

Only why should she feel that pang at all? Wasn’t she accustomed by now to being treated by men as anything other than a marriage prospect? No doubt if he’d been traveling with a child, he would’ve insisted to the innkeeper that Kate was the child’s governess.

He nudged into her reverie. “Will you agree to that, Miss Hathaway?”

He
did
have a point, blast it. And if she really wanted to make it to London, then, “I agree, Mr. Fraser.”

He’d take her to London, only on the condition that she remain mute and, if at all possible, invisible.

* * * *

Out of sight, out of mind
was just a great big load of rubbish, Nathan thought as he lay awake in bed that night.

All day long, riding on top of the coach, watching the scenery as the moors and heaths of Yorkshire gradually gave way to the undulating hills and peaks of Derbyshire, he’d been unable to think of anything but the harridan riding directly beneath him.

Now there was a thought. And what a thought! He thought he might like the idea of her riding directly beneath him in another fashion. Or was that only because when he’d kissed her this morning, he’d felt something he didn’t think he’d ever felt before? Only what had he felt?

It certainly hadn’t been revulsion. She certainly hadn’t felt revulsion. Even now he could still feel her softening in his embrace, yielding to his hard body, a part of which started growing even harder at the memory.

For the umpteenth time, he told himself that she was not the woman for him. Who was Margaret Hathaway, but the sister of a dandified wastrel? Maybe if she’d been the daughter of a duke, like Nathan had been the son of a duke, it might have been different. He might well have married her immediately, and never mind Aunt Verity’s plans for a ball like—what had Miss Hathaway said? Cinderella.

He was only vaguely acquainted with the story of Cinderella. She’d been the girl least likely to marry a prince—rather like Miss Hathaway herself. A girl plucked from obscurity, with nothing to recommend her—again, rather like Miss Hathaway.

No, it wasn’t going to be that kind of ball. Aunt Verity said all the girls who were coming were from the best families in the
ton
,
and she knew them all. If Nathan recalled correctly, no one at the prince’s ball had had the slightest notion of who Cinderella was—not even her own, more eligible stepsisters.

In the meantime, his plan was to continue traveling on the stage and let others think they were siblings, even if it meant that for overnight stops she had to remain cloistered in her room and not speak to anyone, no matter how unpleasant that had to be for someone as garrulous as she was. He could easily afford to hire a private carriage, but he was determined not to make things too enjoyable for her. Sooner or later, she would realize that just because he was a duke didn’t mean that she should expect to be treated as his prospective duchess, and she would demand to go back to Leeds.

One thing he would not do was abandon her anywhere, the way her brother had. The way his own brother had done to Nathan.

He stiffened as he thought he heard a moan in the room next door. Miss Hathaway had the room next door. He hoped she wasn’t in pain. That was all he needed—for her to fall ill and—he heard the moan again.

That didn’t sound like a moan of pain. It definitely sounded like a woman, but—there it was again. Only it wasn’t coming from Miss Hathaway’s room, but the room on the other side. And then he heard a steady creaking and thumping in rhythm to the moans.

Nathan didn’t moan, but he did groan in frustration. Why tonight, of all nights, did he have to hear
that
?

Around noon the next day, the stage stopped at a posting house, where everyone disembarked to lunch and stretch and, in the case of one drunken buck who’d been riding topside with Nathan and Bilby, to retch.

Because of the newest arrivals, there was limited seating space at the long trestle table in the dining room. Nathan managed to get a seat for Kate and went to the parlor to wait for an empty seat of his own.

When she’d had her fill, she emerged from the dining room and nearly collided with him. “There’s an empty seat now.”

“Splendid. By the way, are you perchance acquainted with a Mr. Swingle from London?”

Kate knit her brow in bewilderment, for she did not know a Mr. Swingle…and yet the name struck a vaguely familiar chord deep inside her, as if she’d heard that name very, very recently, but couldn’t quite place it.

Nathan lowered his voice. “He’s in the parlor, and says he’s on his way to Leeds to marry a Miss Hathaway. Is he betrothed to one of your younger sisters?”

“Oh!” Kate jumped and shrieked as if she’d just been pinched.

Somewhere in between her sobs and sniffles two days ago, Meg had gasped something about a Mr. Swingle who was on his way to Leeds to marry her.

“Then I take it you’re acquainted with him?” Nathan asked.

“Yes, only he’s betrothed to—to—” Oh, why hadn’t she told him the truth about who she really was when she had the chance?

Well, she had the chance now, didn’t she?

His face clouded like the skies over the Yorkshire moors, and he arched a dubious brow. “Don’t tell me he’s betrothed to
you
.”

She bristled. “And why should you not believe that? Is it because I look as if I should be someone’s governess—or even someone’s sister—instead of someone’s bride?”

He folded his arms across his chest. “No, it’s just that I thought the Miss Hathaway he described bore little resemblance to the Miss Hathaway of my own acquaintance. But if you’re betrothed to him, then why did you insist on coming with me and honoring your brother’s debt instead of waiting for Mr. Swingle?”

Oh, dear.
Panic seized her.
Think, Kate. Think!