The Black Duke's Prize

by Suzanne Enoch

  "Kate?" the young lady exclaimed, startled, then grabbed onto her arms and hugged her, laughing. "I hear that congratulations are due."

  Althaea stepped around Rawlins. "How wonderful for you, Kate," she seconded, and kissed Katherine on the cheek.

  "I admit," Louisa said, chuckling, "I wasn't certain whether we'd be attending a duel or a wedding."

  Katherine frowned and led the way into the drawing room, where she plunked herself down on the couch. ''Don't congratulate me yet," she said mournfully, certain now that something was wrong.

  Louisa sat beside her. "What in the world do you mean?

  Everyone's talking about how last night, when the Black Duke danced with you, half the women at the ball began weeping because they realized Nicholas Varon had finally fallen in love and was off the market."

  "And about how His Grace purchased every rose in London this morning," Althaea added. "He even persuaded the Countess of Grenville to part with half of the prize blooms in her garden." She glanced about the hallway. "It's fairly evident that this is where the flowers ended up."

  "The flowers may have arrived here," Kate said, glancing up again at all the beautiful blooms, "but Nicholas hasn't."

  "What?"

  "I expected him hours ago," she said with a sniff. Louisa took her hand. "Something has simply delayed him, then. I'm certain he hasn't changed his mind."

  Until that moment Katherine had been certain as well.

  "I don't know whether I want to kill him or be anxious for him," she grumbled, trying to smile and failing. He had said she could rely on him for this.

  "Be anxious for him," a male voice said from the doorway, and she started.

  "Thomas?" she said, her heart missing a beat at the sober expression on the viscount's face. "Why?"

  "Nick's gone missing."

  Nicholas came to, looking up at a ceiling, and, more specifically, rafters. They were covered with dust and cobwebs, and as he tried to remember where in the world he was, a rat scurried across one of the beams, pausing momentarily to look down at him before it continued on its way.

  With an effort he lifted his head to its normal upright position on his shoulders. He was in some sort of warehouse; the floor was cluttered with mildewed straw and the remains of crates and broken barrels. He obviously hadn't placed himself there, for his hands and feet were tied to a rather sturdy chair. Judging from the painful throbbing of his skull, whoever had kidnapped him had clubbed him, and had done a bloody fine job of that indeed. He was very late for something, though he couldn't at that moment remember what. Katherine's face flashed in front of his eyes, and he swore. Damn, he was going to be in a lot of trouble.

  "Still among the living, Sommesby?" a smooth voice said from behind him.

  Nicholas stiffened, realizing that he was already in more than a little trouble. "DuPres."

  "Sorry to say I hit you harder than I intended. Couldn't help myself, really. For a moment, though, I wasn't sure whether you'd be able to assist me."

  "Assist you?" Nicholas asked, cursing himself for being addlepated and lovestruck enough to let someone as dangerous as Francis DuPres sneak up behind him. He never should have gone after the Countess of Grenville's flowers. "The only assistance you'll receive from me is pointing you in the direction of hell."

  "I'm certain you know that route quite well." Francis DuPres moved around in front of him. "And you may lead the way, after I get what I want."

  "Which is?" "Revenge."

  "Oh," Nicholas said, not surprised. "Do your best, then."

  "I shall." DuPres pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket pocket. "To begin, sign Crestley Hall over to me."

  Nicholas could only stare at him. "Forgive my obtuseness," he said after a moment, ''but what in the world ever made you think that clubbing me and tying me up was a good way to persuade me to part with Crestley Hall?"

  "If you don't—"

  "I mean, I hate to be vulgar," Nicholas drawled, interrupting, "but go to the devil." The entire incident had not been amusing to begin with, and now that his head was beginning to clear he was growing more than a little angry. Crestley Hall would stay safe with him until he and Katherine were wed, though that prospect was again looking dim. He would then deed it solely to her and the heirs of her choosing. And nothing short of death would keep him from doing that small thing for her. He twisted his hands again, and the rope started to come loose. One more good pull and he'd be able to wrap his fmgers around DuPres's throat.

  "We can do worse than club you, Your Grace," came another voice from behind him. What was obviously the muzzle of a pistol was pressed against the back of Nicholas's skull. After a moment his hands were wrenched painfully, and the ropes tightened again.

  DuPres looked at him. "As I said, what I truly want is revenge. Crestley Hall would have been an easy way for me to gain more influence with your snobbish friends, but it's hardly a necessity." He leaned forward, his countenance going ugly. "You took my pride, you took Crestley Hall, and you've taken Kate," DuPres said with a snarl. "You ruined me." He smiled, the expression ghastly. "I only wish to do the same to you. To both of you."

  "Leave Katherine out of this;" Nicholas replied hotly, twisting his hands in the ropes, abruptly more than merely angry.

  "You shouldn't trouble yourself about her." DuPres sighed and set the papers down. "I don't even think she likes you. She did try to shoot you. You thought it was Kate, didn't you? I saw that little play. Her shot nearly killed my horse, outside, past the hedge. I'm the one who almost killed you." He hit Nicholas across the face with his fist. "I should have killed you."

  "You bastard," Nicholas countered, tasting blood from his cut cheek. That was why the shot had twisted him forward. It had come from behind, through the window. His mother had been right when she'd invented an assassin. "You're mad."

  Old, comfortable black temper seeped back into his bones. In fact, he couldn't remember ever being quite so angry before. When her uncle had taken Kate, he'd had things to do, to prepare for, and the threat had seemed something he could prevent by his actions. This, though, was different. DuPres wanted her, and he had to sit and listen to this madman's twisted schemes, and he didn't like it. Not at all.

  DuPres shrugged, his neck vanishing beneath the high points of his shirt. "Perhaps I am mad. Doesn't signify, though." He pulled out a second piece of paper. "This will be delivered to Hampton House in the morning." He took a breath. " 'Dear Miss Ralston, I have returned just this morning from Crestley, and am troubled to inform you that I must meet with you at once regarding an unforeseen complication. If you are unable to come to my offices at 36 Drapney Lane this morning, I will make an attempt to see you at Hampton House this afternoon. Signed, J. B. Gladstone.' "

  Of course Katherine wouldn't wait all day for Gladstone to make an appearance at Hampton House. Even if there was some concern over his own disappearance; Nicholas thought, a problem with Crestley would be more than she could ignore. Kate would walk straight into DuPres's trap. "I hope you realize, DuPres, that you hold your death warrant in your hands," Nicholas said ' coldly.

  "You began this, at White's. This is your doing, Sommesby. All of it. But in the end, I will win. And your precious Kate will wish she'd never set eyes on you."

  "You underestimate her," Nicholas answered.

  Francis shook his head. "A female? I doubt it." He nodded at the man standing over Nicholas's shoulder. "I'll see you in the morning, Sommesby. Reid?"

  Before Nicholas could muster a suitably insulting retort, the pistol came down on the back of his skull and he blacked out.

  20

  By morning Katherine was nearer hysteria than she had ever been in her life. The Baron of Rensport had discovered Ulysses in the hands of a young street urchin just before dusk, but the boy claimed he had found the stallion wandering several miles from Hampton House. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and if Nicholas was hurt . . . She couldn't even stand to think of it.

  Everyone seemed
to know that the Duke of Sommesby was missing, and most of the members of the ton had appeared on the Hamptons' doorstep during the past twelve hours, ostensibly with a word of comfort, but more likely to make certain they had the latest on dit about Nicholas. What a coup to be there if and when word arrived of the Black Duke's demise. Lady Belle of Dorchester had nearly tom her skirts in her hurry to leave after Prince George had sent a note that everything possible was being done to fmd "Cousin Nicky."

  Louisa had stayed with Katherine all night, and without her friend Kate thought she would have gone mad. Her godparents had spent most of the evening and morning trying to fend off her callers, and except for a moment here and there she had seen almost nothing of them. Louisa made her sit down to breakfast, but she could only pick at a piece of dry toast and sip her tea.

  "I'm sorry, Louisa, I'm being such a peagoose," she muttered, wiping her eyes.

  "Nonsense," Louisa said firmly, putting an arm around her shoulders. "And everything will be all right, I'm certain of it."

  "Yes," Thomas said from the doorway. Althaea and Reg entered behind him as he took Kate's fingers. "For all we know, this could be another of Nick's famous stunts, and he'll come riding up to the door at any moment in the company of a caravan of gypsy dancers."

  "If that's all this is, then I shall shoot him again," Kate declared, then blanched when Reg raised an eyebrow at her. She had forgotten they didn't know the truth of that episode.

  "I thought so," the captain murmured, leaning down to take her hand.

  "Please don't tell," she whispered, looking up at him. He smiled. "No worries, Kate. That's likely what brought the sap-skull to his senses."

  "What are you two whispering about?" Louisa queried, raising her own hand and then hitting Reg on the arm

  when he delayed a moment before taking it. .

  The captain kissed her knuckles. "I was merely informing Kate that I will be escorting you home and that Thomas and Thaea will stay with her this morning, my sweet."

  "That's not necessary," Katherine protested weakly, relieved that they wouldn't be abandoning her.

  Louisa kissed her cheek. "Of course it's necessary.

  We'll be back this afternoon." She turned to Thomas. "Let us know the moment you hear anything."

  He nodded. "We will."

  For the next two hours Katherine jumped every time Rawlins opened the front door. Julia Varon sent over a note saying that she was staying at Varon House and would immediately inform her if she received any news. Katherine had barely finished relaying the duchess's missive to her companions when Rawlins scratched at the door again. "Good God," Thomas muttered, rising, "doesn't anyone have anything better to do than pester you?" When he opened the door, Rawlins wordlessly handed over another note on his silver tray and bowed as he left.

  "I think I'll go lie down for a bit," Katherine said with a scowl, as the distinctive voice of Margaret Dooley, the Baroness of Fens, sounded at the front door.

  Althaea nodded. "We'll make your excuses," she said with a smile.

  ''Thank you." Katherine rose and headed out the side door before any of the next round of guests could see her. She paused on the landing of the back staircase to open the note Rawlins had handed her. "Oh, not now," she muttered, feeling what was left of her world caving in around her. If someone as efficient as Gladstone had run into a complication at Crestley, it must be serious indeed. Abruptly she stopped, frowning. Someone as efficient as Gladstone would not have wasted time by sending a note. And he undoubtedly would have known about the Duke of Sommesby's disappearance and would have considered that to be his first priority.

  Katherine started back into the drawing room to fetch Thomas, then stopped again at the Baroness of Fens's laugh. There was no time for explanations or excuses. Hurriedly she scribbled a note to her godparents and left . "Gladstone's" note sitting next to it on the hall table. Next she hurried into Lord Neville's study and procured his pair of pistols, though she shuddered at the sight of them. The note felt like a trick of some kind, and she was not going to be taken by surprise again. It was someone else's turn for that. She dumped the pistols in her pockets and climbed out the study window into the garden.

  The groom looked dismayed when she insisted that he saddle Winter and that she was not waiting for an escort, but Katherine had the feeling that she would find Nicholas at the address she had copied from the letter, and she was not going to wait. They could follow her later. She had a rescue to perform.

  He had been waiting for the sound all morning, and when the rusty door squeaked and rattled open Nicholas knew it would be Kate coming in. After regaining consciousness sometime past midnight he had tried to free himself, but that Reid fellow apparently had had a great deal of practice at tying knots, and all Nicholas had succeeded in doing was rubbing his wrists raw. DuPres had arrived after dawn but had only acknowledged his prisoner long enough to make certain the rag tied over his mouth was secure and still jammed halfway down his throat.

  Unused to feeling helpless, and terrified for Katherine's safety at the hands of Francis DuPres, Nicholas could only watch as she stepped into the dim warehouse. She walked forward slowly, her tired expression tempered by more than a touch of wariness. It looked as though she had come alone, and he cursed her godparents for not keeping an eye on her. Desperate to warn her, he yelled at the top of his lungs, managing to produce a muffled bellow through the dirty gag, and she turned in his direction with a start.

  "Nicholas!" she screamed, and ran toward him.

  He felt rather than heard DuPres come up behind him.

  "Welcome, Kate," the small man said, and lifted a pistol to point it at Nicholas's head. "Stop there, why don't you?" he suggested, as Reid stepped out of the shadows on the left. .

  Katherine stopped. "Are you all right, Nicholas?" she asked, her voice shaking.

  He nodded, and DuPres pulled the gag loose. "Get out now, Kate," Nicholas ordered hoarsely as soon as he could speak.

  "I don't think so," DuPres interrupted. "I'm not through with either of you yet." He took a step forward to stand beside Nicholas. "Kate, I'm going to kill the Duke of Sommesby," he said calmly.

  "No!" she wailed, taking another step closer.

  "Kate, don't—" Nicholas began, but DuPres cuffed him on the side of the head with the barrel of the pistol, and he reeled in the chair.

  "I'm not without compassion, however," DuPres continued. "I'll make you a trade."

  "Anything," Katherine returned, balling her hands into fists. Fleetingly Nicholas wished she had brought a vase with her.

  "Have Sommesby sign the Crestley Hall deed over to me."

  "Never," Nicholas said with a growl.

  "Crestley . . . " Kate echoed faintly, her face white. DuPres flashed his repulsive smile. "The Duke of Sommesby or Crestley Hall. You may have one or the other." The pistol pressed against Nicholas's temple. "But not both."

  "Nicholas," she whispered.

  "Don't do it, Kate. He'll kill me anyway," Nicholas answered, wishing he could hold her, get her away from that place and that madman with his silent henchman before she was hurt.

  "You have my word," DuPres said reasonably. "Crestley for Varon. Just tell him to sign it over."

  She looked at Nicholas, and with all his might he willed her to turn and run. Instead she turned to DuPres and nodded. "All right."

  DuPres motioned to Reid, who strolled over behind Nicholas and freed his right hand. Nicholas clenched it, trying to get enough feeling back into his fingers that he could hit Francis DuPres. The parchment turning the deed over was put in front of him, and he shook his head. "No."

  "Nicholas, sign it," Katherine urged unsteadily.

  "No. It's all you've ever wanted. I won't sign it away," he returned, taking a swipe at DuPres. Reid grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head back.

  "You said Crestley was mine to do with as I pleased."

  She looked at him for a long moment. "Please sign that thing, so we can conclude this o
dious business."

  He stared at her, wondering if she was truly trying to signal him that she had a plan, or if she was attempting to trick him into signing. Still, back at Crestley she had trusted him, and he would have to do the same for her. With a snarl he accepted the parchment and pen from DuPres's waiting hand and scribbled his signature. As soon as he had finished, Reid wrenched his arm back behind him and retied the bindings. DuPres lowered the pistol to examine his signature.

  "Not your neatest effort, but I believe it will stand up in court," he muttered, folding the parchment.

  It would, but only if Nicholas wasn't there to testify that he had been coerced into signing it. "Let Katherine go," he said insistently, wishing he'd had time to think, to leave her something else that could be her own.

  "And let Nicholas go," Katherine said, and raised a pistol to aim it at DuPres's chest.

  At the back of the warehouse the door was flung open, and Thomas Elder strode into the room. "Kate!" he yelled.

  Katherine flinched at the sound, and DuPres leaped toward her. She shrieked and fired the pistol, missing DuPres and nearly taking off Nicholas's head. He ducked reflexively as she let out another scream, kicking Francis in the leg and dodging out of the way.

  "Reid!" DuPres bellowed, limping after her, and his henchman ran forward. "Get her!"

  "I don't think so," the Viscount of Sheresford returned, launching himself at Reid.

  Thomas hadn't let her come alone after all. But Nicholas's relief swiftly turned to dismay as Reid swung a piece of lumber at the viscount and knocked him onto a pile of broken crates. Thomas lurched to his feet and grabbed for the other man. Katherine threw the spent pistol at DuPres and dodged around a pole, trying to work her way back to Nicholas. She was too damned brave for her own good. Instead of trying to rescue him she should have been heading for the door and safety. Nicholas yanked his arms again, wincing as the movement opened the cuts in his wrists. Shutting his eyes, he yanked again. Hard.