The Dukes of Vauxhall

by Vanessa Kelly, Christi Caldwell, Theresa Romain, Shana Galen

  “Perhaps you’d like to visit her someday,” Griffin said. “She’s established just outside the city, in Camberwell.”

  Barnett scowled. “That won’t be—”

  “I would love that,” Antonia enthused. “If you’re certain Lady Hunter wouldn’t mind.”

  “Of course not, but you can ask her yourself. She and my wife are just returning from a stroll around the Grove.”

  “Are you gossiping about us, my son?” said Chloe Hunter a moment later as she stepped up to the box. “I swear my ears are burning.”

  “No, just giving you compliments, Mother. Do you know Captain Barnett and his daughter, Miss Antonia Barnett?”

  Roman’s aunt gave the pair a gracious smile. “No, but I believe my husband knows the captain. Would you and Miss Barnett care to join us, sir?”

  “Thank you, but we have no wish to inconvenience you,” Barnett said stiffly. He gave a short bow and began to pull his daughter away.

  Justine put out a quick hand. “I believe we saw you last week at Gunter’s, Miss Barnett. Did we not?”

  “You did, Mrs. Steele,” Antonia said. “I was there with a friend.”

  “Ah, yes, a very nice looking young man, as I recall.”

  Roman was surprised to realize he didn’t like the idea of Miss Antonia Barnett spending time with nice looking young men.

  “Richard Keane,” Griffin supplied. “Son of Captain Barnett’s partner.”

  “Do you know everyone in this blasted town?” Barnett groused.

  “It’s an annoying characteristic, isn’t it?” Justine said. “I can never tell my husband anything he doesn’t seem to already know.”

  “It’s a burden, being right all the time,” Griffin said.

  “How awful for you,” Barnett replied. “And, now, if you’ll excuse us…”

  “I do believe Miss Barnett wished to ask me something,” Chloe interrupted.

  The girl brightened. “Yes, please. I was wondering if you could tell me about your charity.”

  “I should be happy to,” Chloe said. “Won’t you join us in our box? We have more than enough room.”

  Barnett looked appalled.

  “Yes, plenty of room,” said Roman with malicious pleasure. “And you should join us too, Barnett. I’m sure we could find something to talk about.”

  “I think not. Come along, Antonia.”

  Barnett’s daughter adopted a comically woeful expression. “Must we go, Papa? I truly would like to speak to Lady Hunter.”

  “We promise to take good care of her, Captain Barnett,” Justine said with gentle reassurance.

  “And we won’t corrupt her in the slightest,” Griffin added. “Ouch,” he said when his mother elbowed him.

  “Your daughter will be perfectly safe with me, Captain,” Chloe said. “You have my word.”

  Barnett now had no way to refuse without causing insult, and no one in his right mind insulted Lady Hunter. After all, she was the wife of Dominic Hunter, one of the most powerful and well-regarded men in the ton.

  Barnett gave in fairly graciously. “That’s very kind of you, ma’am.” Then he narrowed his gaze on his daughter, and she narrowed an identical gaze right back at him. “Antonia, I will expect you back in our box in thirty minutes, or I will fetch you myself. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Papa,” she said in a dutiful voice that fooled exactly no one—including Barnett, from his quiet snort.

  When Antonia stretched up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, the man’s stern features softened with a vulnerability Roman had never seen in him. Father and daughter were clearly thick as thieves.

  Barnett shot a warning glance his way. “I will be talking to you soon, Cantrell.”

  Roman flashed him a toothy smile. “I will wait with breathless anticipation, my dear sir.”

  The captain pivoted on his boot heel and stalked back through the crowd.

  Antonia flashed Roman an irritated glance. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Tease my father.”

  “But he makes it so easy.”

  She gave him a shoulder as she accepted Griffin’s hand-up onto the platform. Griffin relinquished his seat, joining his wife on the other side of the box and leaving Antonia between Chloe and Roman.

  Even though she was turned away from him, Roman didn’t mind. He could admire her slender neck, exposed by the upsweep of moonlit-blond hair arranged in a shimmering tumble on the crown of her head. She also had a graceful back, a narrow waist, and a gentle yet enticing curve to her hips. Antonia might be petite, but she was far from being a lamppost. In fact, she possessed an understated femininity he found surprisingly appealing, even without the generous curves he normally preferred.

  In fact, so appealing that there was a decided tightness in his breeches, an odd and alarming realization. She was Barnett’s daughter, for God’s sake, and the last girl who should stir his desire.

  He glanced over to Barnett’s supper box. As he could have predicted, his rival was glaring daggers at him. If anything could deflate a burgeoning erection, the ice in Barnett’s gaze was it.

  Roman let his eyes wander over the crowd that fluttered like demented moths under the lamp-lighted trees. After months at sea—and after the hard years of the war—he’d been looking forward to a new life in London. He’d always been good at his work, as good as anyone who commanded a ship. But that didn’t mean he loved it. His life had been thrust upon him by birth and circumstances beyond his control. He’d accomplished much, coming home from war with a trading company well on its way to rivaling more established outfits. And with his royal father’s help, Roman would be able to secure even bigger contracts and more ships.

  Yes, he was more than ready to leave life on the high seas behind. More than ready to find a highborn wife and settle down to a self-satisfied existence like the rest of the ton. He’d earned it, by God, with blood and treasure. It was time for the world to pay up.

  The one small problem with his plan was that life on dry land was proving to be exceedingly dull.

  A poke on the arm pulled him out of his ruminations. He glanced sideways to see Antonia regarding him with annoyance.

  “Miss Barnett, is there something you want, or do you simply enjoy jabbing holes in a man’s sleeve?”

  “It seemed the most expedient way to get your attention. I’ve spoken to you twice already, but you ignored me. As usual,” she ended on a mutter.

  He frowned. “Miss Barnett, how can I ignore you as usual if we’ve only just met?”

  “Sorry. It’s just that most gentlemen have a tendency to overlook me. When they’re not calling me odd.”

  He studied the blush that colored her high cheekbones. She was very pretty when one took the time to look. Aside from the spectacular eyes, she had a charming, tip-tilted nose and a full, rosebud mouth made for smiles and kisses.

  “You’re rather blunt,” Roman said. “Some people might think that odd in a young lady.”

  “I do try to control myself, but my thoughts somehow spring out at the most inconvenient times.” She scrunched her nose. “I can’t keep count of all the people I’ve offended, when I should have ignored them instead.”

  Ignored the gossip and insults, she meant. Illegitimacy was a heavy burden, doubly so for a gently bred and clearly sensitive young woman like Antonia.

  “I keep a chart,” he said. “That way I can track how many people I’ve rubbed the wrong way. It’s quite handy when I can’t recall why someone is snubbing me.”

  Her golden eyes filled with laughter. “That’s an excellent idea. If nothing else, it might prevent me from wasting a good insult on a person I’ve already irritated.”

  “Exactly. It’s best to keep one’s disparaging comments as fresh as possible.”

  “You’re very good at that, if Papa’s behavior is any indication.”

  “I’m quite well known for it. Now, what is it you wished to ask me when you were abusing my sleeve a fe
w moments ago?”

  She pursed her mouth, as if reconsidering, then gave a tiny shrug. “I’d like to know why you hate my father.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Blunt doesn’t begin to cover it.”

  She held his gaze with a touch of defiance.

  “For the record,” he finally said, “I do not hate your father.”

  Not much, anyway.

  Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “He certainly seems to hate you. And since my father is a very fair man, I have to believe there’s a good reason for it.”

  “Perhaps I have given him cause over the years, although it’s nothing personal, I assure you. Our dealings are entirely business related. During the war, I may have outbid him on one or two contracts that he particularly wanted.”

  She nodded. “Papa is extremely competitive.”

  “So am I.”

  “I suppose that would explain it. It seems rather silly, though. Papa is very wealthy, and I suspect you’re fairly plump in the pocket, too. You certainly look it.”

  When her interested gaze flickered over his body, he felt a surge of desire and had to clear his throat before answering. “It’s the nature of business. One always seeks to put one’s rivals in the ground.”

  Her scowl was sudden and fierce. “I hope you’re joking.”

  “I was speaking metaphorically, of course.”

  “My father is very good at what he does, as those who try to put him in the ground invariably find out.”

  Roman simply shrugged.

  “And how many ships do you own?” she asked.

  “Three.”

  “My father owns ten,” she said smugly.

  When Roman laughed, she gave him a reluctant smile.

  “Are you staying in town, or will you soon set off again?” she asked.

  It was a polite enquiry, but he could tell she was fishing. “I’ll be running my business in London from now on. In fact, I’m looking for office and warehouse space in Wapping.”

  He didn’t normally discuss his business affairs with society misses. However, since Antonia would likely transmit some of the details of their conversation back to her father, it occurred to him that she could be a useful conduit of information.

  He could think of additional ways that a relationship with her might prove fruitful and pleasurable, but it was best to ignore those promptings.

  “Huh,” she said. “So I imagine we might be running into each other on occasion. Socially, I mean.”

  “Probably. I’ll be looking for a wife on the Marriage Mart, so perhaps you could give me some suggestions.”

  “Why would I do that?” she said, sounding a bit flustered. “It would be entirely inappropriate for us to even discuss such a thing, as I’m sure you know.”

  Her sudden retreat behind social niceties was amusing. “You’re right,” he said. “Forget I asked. I simply thought you might have some suggestions about how to make myself more attractive to genteel young ladies such as yourself.”

  Antonia scoffed. “I hardly think you’ll have any trouble in that regard, sir.”

  Ah. How interesting.

  “Sadly, my father does not agree. He thinks I’m making a hash of it,” Roman said, flashing his most charming smile.

  It apparently did the trick because she smiled back. “Perhaps he and Papa can get together and compare notes. Would my father know him?”

  “I would think so. He’s the Duke of Clarence.”

  She gazed blankly at him for a moment. “The Duke of Clarence? You mean the royal duke?”

  “None other.”

  Her blank stare turned into disbelief. “Really?”

  What was the bloody problem? He hardly expected her, of all people, to object to his parentage, especially since his breeding was a damn sight better than hers—not that he gave a tinker’s damn about that sort of thing. He simply couldn’t abide the notion that Antonia would be as disapproving of him as every other girl in the ton.

  “Miss Barnett, I didn’t realize you were hard of hearing,” he said sarcastically.

  When she flinched, he felt like a complete rotter.

  “I apologize,” he said. “That was unforgivably rude of me.”

  “No…no, I’m the one who’s being rude. It’s just, oh, never mind.” She clambered awkwardly to her feet. “I must go before Papa comes to fetch me. That would not be a good thing, I assure you. Goodbye, Captain Cantrell. It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  Apparently not, Roman thought with irritation as she made her escape.

  Chloe turned to him with a frown. “What did you say to frighten the poor girl?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “He probably just glowered at her,” Griffin said. “That’s usually enough to send the girls screaming from the room.”

  “Thank you for that vote of support,” Roman replied.

  “I’m sure you did no such thing, did you?” Chloe said, patting his arm.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  And it shouldn’t. For a few minutes, he’d thought Antonia Barnett was different from the girls his father had tried to foist on him. He’d thought her brave and funny. Odd, yes, but that was somehow part of her charm.

  It was a disappointing to know he’d been wrong about a woman. Again.

  Chapter Two

  * * *

  Vauxhall was utterly mobbed, as the official celebrations of the Regent’s birthday had kicked off with a masked ball. The supper boxes were full to bursting, and thousands of costumed festivalgoers strolled along the walks and through the groves. It was a splendid opportunity for pickpockets, thieves, and prostitutes, and Roman had little doubt London’s criminal class was hard at work. Too bad he hadn’t thought to stow a pistol inside the sash of his costume, just to be on the safe side.

  Propping a shoulder against a tree near the Prince Regent’s special supper box, Roman settled in to watch his royal relatives comport themselves with their usual absence of dignity. His uncle, the future King of England, looked particularly ridiculous, swathed in an expansive gold toga with a wreath of laurels circling his head. Meanwhile, Cumberland was clomping around in bits of old armor, and York had costumed himself as a gladiator. Roman was happy to see that his father had garbed himself with a bit more dignity than his three brothers, sporting the costume of a British sailor.

  He snatched a wineglass from one of the purple-coated waiters, forestalling the man’s objection by flipping him a crown. The food served in the Gardens was generally an abomination, but at least the wine was topnotch. Not that he had any intention of joining his family for supper in the Regent’s box, despite his father’s pointed suggestion that he do so. Clarence would simply start nagging again about his son’s failure to secure a suitable bride, and Roman needed no more reminders of that.

  Even Antonia Barnett, who was not exactly the belle of the ball, wanted nothing to do with him.

  When a finger jabbed his bicep, he almost spilled his drink.

  “What the devil?” he growled.

  Roman turned to face what appeared to be a fairy. She wore a pair of spangled wings, a gauzy silver dress, and carried a beribboned wand. Behind a glittering mask, Antonia Barnett waited for him to acknowledge her.

  “Miss Barnett, do you enjoy poking defenseless men?” he asked.

  “Only when necessary. And you are hardly defenseless.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m attending the masked ball, just like you.” Her tone suggested he was an imbecile.

  “I mean, what are you doing accosting me?”

  “I wished to speak with you.” Her mouth tilted down. “And how did you know it was me in this silly outfit?”

  Roman would have known her anywhere. She might be rather a little thing, easily passed over at first glance, but she carried herself with unconscious grace. Add in those amazing eyes and hair that glowed like moonlight, and Antonia Barnett was unforgettable.

  “I’m so observant that I also in
stantly deduced you’re wandering about by yourself again. Does your father know you’re here?”

  “I’m with my friend, Mr. Keane, and his parents.”

  Roman made a show of looking around. “And did they garb themselves in cloaks of invisibility as their disguise?”

  “Don’t be so silly. Richard is just over there by that pillar, speaking with some friends. He’s the Egyptian pharaoh.”

  “He looks ridiculous.” Roman wasn’t sure if he disapproved because of the idiot’s historically absurd headdress, or the fact that Keane and Antonia were on a first-name basis.

  “I said the same thing. Richard was quite offended by my assessment,” she said dryly.

  “That’s no way to treat a devoted swain, Miss Barnett,” he said, trying not to laugh.

  “Sadly, I do not have any swains. At least not at the moment,” she added hastily.

  “Hardly surprising. Your father makes a habit of tossing them into the nearest body of water.”

  “I suppose everyone’s heard about that little incident by now.”

  “I’m afraid so. And knowing your father, I shouldn’t be surprised if a bevy of your suitors is currently reposing at the bottom of the Thames.”

  She starched up. “That is certainly not true.”

  Roman was about to apologize when she held up an imperious hand. “Never the Thames. Papa only tosses my suitors into the very best bodies of water. Nothing is too good for his darling daughter.”

  She was absurd—and charming.

  “So the pharaonic Mr. Keane is not a suitor.”

  “No. He’s my best friend, actually.”

  “If he’s such a good friend, why isn’t he taking better care of you?”

  Her fairy wings all but quivered with indignation. “I do not need anyone looking after me, Captain Cantrell.”

  “I suspect your father would not agree.”

  “Papa tends to be a bit over-protective, as you may have noticed.”

  Roman couldn’t blame her father at all. When he took in her delicate figure, garbed in a costume that was too enticing, he couldn’t believe any man in his right mind would let her wander around on her own—especially not at a place like Vauxhall, where any number of dangers lurked.