“Oh, goodness! Captain Gaston, however did I miss you?”
Feeling refreshed, Tristan strutted through the French doors, a lover’s glaze pasted on his face. She would marry him. He could see it in her eyes. Her refusal was nothing but nerves.
He took a step into the ballroom, staring at Kate’s slender curves.
Soon he would have her and the diamond. All would be well, and his life would be at peace.
His eyes narrowed as he took in the man standing beside Kate and his smile vanished.
Who the devil invited him?
Chapter Twelve
There was an excited fury at White’s as many gentlemen in the club gathered at the table making bets on the upcoming fight at the Royal Cockpit. The wagers on the cruel sport were reaching an all time high.
“Quite a commotion,” Tristan said from a table in an adjacent room. He knew Douberry was at White’s, and he was hoping the man would have one drink too many and his mouth would slip with information about Fletcher and the diamond. If the baron was a traitor to the Crown, it was imperative to find out the facts as soon as possible.
“What about a wager on the boxing match tomorrow at Jackson’s?” Edward asked.
“Perhaps,” Devin said, tapping his fingers on the table, staring at Tristan. “I say, it’s been two weeks since you told Katherine of your intended marriage plans. When is this infamous wedding taking place?”
Tristan shrugged. “As soon as she agrees.” And before she puts into effect any thoughts of returning to America. But he had sensed Kate’s receptive warmth to his advances and was confident she would agree to marry him. It was only a matter of time.
Devin laughed. “As long as we are mentioning ladies, what are you intentions toward my sister, Edward?”
Edward’s face turned purple. “B-beg your pardon?”
“Come now, the way you gawk at Charlotte, it’s not hard to notice your interest, especially at Almack’s the other night.”
“I’m fond of your sister. What’s wrong with that?”
Devin’s eyes drilled into Edward’s. “Nothing.”
Edward ran a nervous hand across his knee. “Believe I’ll take a peek and check the books over there. Quite a large crowd.” He stood and made a quick retreat to the betting tables.
Devin’s expression turned serious. “Marriage is it?”
Tristan’s gaze followed his brother’s back until he disappeared. “I hope not yet. Edward’s only a pup.”
“Jupiter,” Devin snapped, clearly agitated by his friend’s response. “If that pup of yours waits much longer, Charlotte will be married off to some cad with a haughty title and wealth to boot. Her dowry is more than sufficient to draw a duke.”
Tristan cracked a smile, sipping his brandy. “A cad like us?"
“I would hope not,” Devin said with a sardonic smile.
Tristan tilted his head toward the crowd. “What else is on the betting books, do you suppose?”
“A boxing match. A cock fight. Could be anything these days.”
In the next room Edward nudged his way into the midst of the shouting men, listening to the surmounting wagers.
“Forty pounds on Derby’s bird,” Riverwoods shot out.
Edward raised a stunned brow. All that coin on a cock fight? “Evening, Douberry,” Edward said as the baron staggered into him.
“Eve-evening,” the baron belched. “Or is it?” Douberry leaned sideways, giving Edward a hideous whiff of his breath. “Your brother still about?" the man asked with a slurred tongue.
“Next room.”
“Running after that American chit, ain’t he?”
Edward’s lips thinned.
“Ah,” the baron said as he quickly downed his drink. “Miss Wilcox, ain’t it?”
A viscount pushed between the two men. “Fifty pounds on Claremont’s bird.”
An uneasy feeling settled in Edward’s stomach as Douberry stumbled to the floor in a drunken stupor and let out another crude grunt.
“He’ll never marry the chit, you know.”
Edward’s hands curled beside him. “And you have a vested concern in this matter?”
The baron struggled to his feet, swaying and hitting table upon table until he found a chair. After maintaining his balance, Douberry twisted his head around to focus upon Edward once again. “It ain’t my concern at all," he mouthed, tipping a stranded glass toward his mouth and emptying its contents, “But he won’t find that diamond either.”
Edward took an abrupt step toward the man, thought better of it, and returned to his brother.
“What happened to you?” Tristan asked, watching the play of emotions on Edward’s face. “Someone call you out?”
Edward shook his head. “I ran into Douberry. He was quite foxed. Man said that you would never marry Miss Wilcox or find the diamond. But I didn’t want to make a scene. Think he knew that. I ignored him instead.”
Tristan’s jaw clenched. Was the man threatening Kate? “Did you know that Douberry knew Fletcher?”
Edward’s eyes bulged open in shock. “No.”
Tristan shoved his chair back and in four powerful strides, crossed into the betting room. A hush stabbed the air as everyone recognized the earl’s taut body blocking the doorway.
Tristan stood there, eyeing the snake hiding behind Riverwoods. To him, it wasn’t worth his time to call the baron out. He wanted to deal with Douberry on his own terms. And his superiors had distinctly told him not to interfere with the baron unless it was truly necessary.
Tristan ground his teeth when he caught Douberry’s eyes tearing up. Either the man was the greatest actor on earth, or he was a total fool. Tristan didn’t know which. He turned on his heel and strode back to his table where Devin and Edward awaited.
“I’m leaving,” he said with a scowl. “You two coming?”
Devin stood, his expression confused. “Of course we’re coming. Have you forgotten that you’re invited to dinner tonight? Mother would be put out if you didn’t show. She’s invited your own mother to join us.”
Tristan rolled his eyes in frustration. A fitting encore.
“A wonderful dinner, Aunt Georgiana,” Kate said, feeling Tristan’s intense gaze upon her. “The venison with the berry sauce was delightful. I’ll have to tell my cook about it back at Wilcox Manor.”
The duchess smiled. Any compliment sent her into heavenly bliss. “Cook is one of the best in London.” She glanced up at her husband. “The sauces were spectacular, were they not?"
“Exquisite, my dear,” the duke replied. As if knowing the conversation might take a turn for the worst with his wife in the lead, the duke directed a warm gaze toward Tristan’s mother. “Lady Lancewood, are you enjoying the Season thus far?"
“Quite,” she replied, with a stiff smile. “I do hope to make it to many balls this year. Are you attending the one given by the Countess of Brackshire, Your Grace?”
“Oh, my, yes,” the duchess answered for her husband. “Everybody will be there.”
Kate remembered that name from somewhere. “Have I met the countess before?”
Charlotte put down her drink. “Not likely. She was at one of the balls a week ago. But she was only there a short time.”
“I remember now,” Kate said with a beaming smile. “The Countess of Brackshire is Mrs. Hollingsworth’s cousin.”
Kate looked at Tristan as if he knew the lady. “I have never had the pleasure of meeting a Mrs. Hollingsworth,” he said, picking up his wineglass.
“Mrs. Hollingsworth is the lady who came over with me from America. My brother asked her to accompany me to England. She lives only a few miles from the Wilcox Manor and happened to have relatives living here in London.”
Devin scowled at Kate’s reply. “If your brother sent her with you, why didn’t the woman escort you to the country when you were in such poor health?”
Immediately, Kate realized her faux pas. She had no wish to involve Mrs. Hollingsworth. “I insisted that
she be dropped off in London. There was no need for her to come with me to the country.” Kate looked toward Tristan. “You’ve met her nephew.”
“I have no recollection of meeting her nephew.”
“Captain Gaston?”
Tristan’s hold on his goblet slackened, and the glass clanked against his plate. “Ah, yes, I do recall a rather older man by that name. He was outside the music shop, if memory serves me correctly. We also met the gentleman at a ball a few weeks ago.”
Kate grinned and folded her hands together in pleasure. “You do remember. Oh, it will be nice to see some friendly faces from home. Mrs. Hollingsworth is such an...interesting lady.”
After dinner the ladies took their leave while the men remained in the dining room, receiving another round of drinks.
The duke sent a pointed glance toward Tristan. “I gather you do not care for this Gaston character?”
Tristan strode toward the fireplace. “Was it that obvious?”
“Not to the women perhaps, but to me it was.”
Inwardly, Tristan cringed. He had not liked the way Gaston had conveniently presented himself outside the music shop or at the ball two weeks ago. And when Kate had danced with the captain, it was all Tristan could do from not calling the man out.
Kate had mentioned the captain had plans to visit relatives in Paris the next month, and Tristan’s instincts had gone into full alert. Having French blood wasn’t a crime, but to Tristan, there was something about the man that didn’t sit right.
Edward frowned. “I take it the man’s a scoundrel.”
Sipping his port, Tristan peered up at the gentlemen. “I’ve known men like him. He’s no good.”
Tristan thought of Kate. She had mentioned returning home. If he didn’t move quickly, she might leave England before he had a chance to marry her.
The duke put his hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “I’m glad you spoke up. When we attend the Brackshire ball, we shall watch our ladies closely.”
Meanwhile, in the drawing room, Charlotte and Kate took turns playing the piano. Charlotte lifted her hands from the keys and glanced at her cousin.
“Kate, oh, do let us play a piano and flute duet. I looked at some of the sheet music you brought home the other day and happened to see a few pieces that would be appropriate.”
Kate smiled. “My flute is upstairs. I won’t be a minute.”
Excusing herself, Kate hurried out of the room, passing the dining room doors.
“Hell’s teeth!”
She paused when she heard the duke’s shout. Without hesitation she backed up a few paces, where the dining room door was cracked open about an inch, and stooped down to listen.
“He threatened that at the club? Did you call the man out? My niece of all people!”
Kate fidgeted. Someone had threatened her?
“He really couldn’t do much, Father. The man was foxed, probably didn’t know half of what he was saying.”
Kate stretched her neck toward the door. A duel over her?
“I have no wish for Kate to know,” she heard Tristan say. “She’s too naive to understand.”
Too naïve? Kate’s ears seemed to enlarge with each word Tristan uttered.
“May I help you, Miss Wilcox?"
Heat flooded Kate’s entire body face when Webster unexpectedly came around the corner. She slowly uncoiled from her crouched position. “Uh, no thank you, Webster. I was just heading upstairs.” She patted her hair and scampered up the steps.
Blood pumped through her veins so hard she could feel it hammering in her brain. Of all the humiliating things to be the center of a possible duel. A duel that Tristan didn’t even have the decency to tell her about it. And naïve? Who did he think he was?
She was still feeling the sting of the conversation when she returned to the drawing room with her flute. But to her surprise, the evening had taken another turn for the worse when she found herself alone with Tristan’s mother.
“Ah, Miss Wilcox. It seems the duchess was feeling a bit under the weather," the countess replied coolly, sitting in a wing chair beside the hearth. “Lady Charlotte escorted her mother to her bedchambers. I am afraid it is only the two of us this evening.”
“Oh.” Kate’s heart fell to the floor, along with the temperature in the room.
“Lady Charlotte may not return,” the countess went on. “Her Grace looked quite uncomfortable.”
Kate sank onto the sofa. “Is she very ill? Shall I send for the doctor?”
“No. It appears to be a clear case of over-indulgence. The raspberry sauce, I believe.”
Kate felt the lady’s cold glare crawl down her back. What kind of life had Tristan had? No wonder he had a hard time with the concept of love. His mother was as cold as a dead fish.
“Am I to presume, Miss Wilcox, that you have an interest in Lord Lancewood?”
Startled, Kate stared back, the heat rushing to her face. Couldn’t the lady say her son’s name? “I am fond of him.”
“I see.” The lady’s lips pinched. “And do you intend to wed him?”
Shocked, Kate stared back at the woman’s cool blue eyes.
“You’re an American,” the countess continued. “I simply cannot have my firstborn marrying anybody. And you seem to be just anybody.”
Kate fingers dug into her flute case as the older lady continued her attack.
“I have plans for the earl, you see, and I do not intend for you to interfere. Is that perfectly clear, Miss Wilcox?”
Kate swallowed past the lump in her throat. She could guess what perfectly clear meant. She knew what the lady’s plans were and whom they included. The woman wanted to marry Tristan off to Lady Helen, the daughter of a nobleman, not to a low-life American. But anger soon replaced any pity she felt for herself.
“So, I ask you, Miss Wilcox, do you love Lord Lancewood?” The lady kept her eyes frozen on Kate. “Though love has nothing to do with marriage, I can see that it might interfere with my plans.”
Kate shot from her chair, her hands clenched at her sides. “Love your son? That’s truly none of your affair. However, for the sake of family, I will tell you. I love Tristan very much, and if he asks me to marry him, I shall say yes.”
“I see.” The woman closed her lids and sank further into her seat, her lips thinning into a grim line of disapproval. “You will not change your mind then?”
Giving the lady one last glare, Kate refused to answer. She departed from the drawing room, her skirt swishing past a wide-eyed Tristan standing outside the door, who obviously had heard every word. Drat!
Awestruck, Tristan watched Kate run up the stairs. Her hips swayed with a graceful anger that made his pulse quicken.
She loved him! His heart overflowed with happiness. With a start, he realized those were the words he desperately needed to hear.
Now, she had to marry him.
The following morning Kate sat on the piano bench, paging through her music while Handsome sat beside her, wagging his tail. The previous evening she had acknowledged her love for Tristan and had hoped he would do the same. Yet he had seemed startled by her declaration. But she would not compromise her principles. She vowed to marry for love and that included a man who loved her. If need be, she would return to America a spinster.
“Bach, I see.” Charlotte strolled into the room, bending over to pick up a piece of music that had floated to the floor. “I’m sorry we missed our duet last night. I fear Mother had too much raspberry sauce.” She let out a small giggle. “Mother was in such agony. But raspberry sauce always seems to do her in.”
Kate let out a half smile. She wasn’t about to explain all that had transpired last night. It was too humiliating.
“What about playing our duet now?” Charlotte asked.
“Will Mozart do?” Kate stood up and grabbed her flute. “I have his Concerto in G Major for flute and piano. Give me a minute.”
Charlotte sat on the piano bench and waited. “Allegro maestoso,” she final
ly said as she counted to four and they began to play. Handsome barked, making it a trio. Mr. Divine sat in the corner of the room and let out a simply divine now and then.
In the hallway, a light knock on the front door pulled Webster from his front row seat on the stairs. A young blond-haired gentleman, clad in a green velvet coat, stood on the steps and gave the butler his card. The butler stepped aside to admit him.
When the music stopped, it was Charlotte who turned her head to view the blond-haired gentleman gazing at Kate. “Good day, sir.” She rose to greet him before Webster had a chance to announce the man.
Kate looked up and let out a gasp of surprise. “Matthew!”
“Mr. Matthew Wilcox,” Webster announced to the room.
Matthew laughed and picked Kate up, twirling her around in a circle. Chuckling, Kate introduced Charlotte.
Matthew smiled. “Delighted to see you again, dear cousin."
Charlotte blushed as Matthew took her hand. “I barely remember you, you know."
Kate hung on to her brother’s arm and grinned. “But you gave me no warning.”
“When my business was finished, I told you I’d return to England before they married you off to some wealthy duke.”
Kate gave him a playful swat. “I think not.”
“But there is an earl that–" Charlotte said, then threw a hand to her mouth.
Narrowing his gaze, Matthew turned to Kate and raised a scrupulous brow. “So, you have an eager suitor? An earl, no doubt. Throwing my list out already?"
Kate stilled at the mention of the earl. She had no wish to speak to her brother about Tristan. “You must be tired after such a long journey,” she said, leading Matthew to the sofa.
Charlotte drew Handsome into the hall and excused herself, avoiding Kate’s glare. Matthew unbuttoned his jacket, taking a seat next to Kate. She instantly realized she would have to be careful about her choice of words because of Matthew’s protective manner. Yet she wondered how much other information Charlotte would keep to herself.
Matthew held her hand in a comforting manner. “Tell me about this wonderful earl who has caught your eye.”
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