by Amelia Grey
“You don’t.” Gib turned and tipped his hat to the duchess once again and said, “Nice meeting you, Your Grace. If you’re still in Town, you are invited to the boxing match, too.”
With those parting words, Gibby turned and walked off with several men crowding around him.
“He is a very strong man,” the duchess said.
“Gibby doesn’t like for anyone to challenge his honor.”
“A true gentleman.”
“No, a crowd pleaser,” Race corrected. “He loves attention, and he knows that either I or one of my cousins will, somehow, get him out of this.”
Race picked up the food basket, and they started walking back the way they had come, but at a much faster pace than before.
“I’m sorry, but we are going to have to postpone our refreshments for another time. I need to find my cousins.”
She gave him an understanding smile. “No need to apologize. I’m in complete agreement that you need to see to this matter quickly.”
“I know you came with me only because of the curried apples,” he teased, wanting to lighten the heavy mood that had settled over him.
Susannah looked at him with sparkling eyes. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
He nodded. “I’ll leave the basket with you.”
“May I make a different suggestion?”
He gave her a quizzical look. “Of course.”
“When we get to the entrance of the park, why don’t you hail a cab to take me home? That way, you can get about your duties and do what you must for Sir Randolph.”
He was incredulous. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”
“I suggest it only because I know you are deeply troubled about your friend, and you are in a hurry to help him. I saw your frustration because neither man would listen to reason.”
Damn frustrating.
“Duchess,” Race said, “I would never take a lady to a park and not see her home. You live only a street over from mine. It will take no extra time to see you to your house.”
“All right, but you said you needed to find your cousins. Do they live near you?”
“Close by, but let me show you how I will do that,” he said as they made it back to his curricle.
He took the reins from the groom as he tossed the basket onto the floor of the carriage. He asked the groom, “Are you free to run an errand for me, lad?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I need you to find the Duke of Blakewell and the Earl of Morgandale. Try their homes first and then the clubs. White’s first, then Harbor Lights, and then The Rusty Nail. When you find them, tell them to come to Raceworth’s immediately. Can you remember that?”
“Yes, my lord,” the young man said again.
Race reached into his pocket and pulled out some coins and gave them to the youngster. “Take these. There will be more waiting for you at my back door if the earl and duke get there within the hour.”
“Yes, sir!” the young man said happily and ran away, his feet kicking up dust from the ground as he flew.
Race quickly helped the duchess into the carriage and jumped in beside her. “I’m going to push the horses. Will that bother you?”
The duchess snapped her parasol shut and placed it between them. She grabbed hold of the armrest on the side of the cushion. “Not at all. I’m ready whenever you are.”
Race clicked the ribbons on the horses’ rumps, and they took off with a jolt and a shimmy of rattling harness. Race let the horses run as they flew past pedestrians, carriages, and horses that were plodding along, enraging them all with his reckless driving. People yelled at them, and several dogs barked and chased the carriage as they left the park and pulled out into the busy street.
Race took his eyes off the road in front of him long enough to throw a quick glance at the duchess. She was smiling. His heartbeat sped up. She was enjoying their wild ride. The wind whipped at a few strands of her dark brown hair and feathered it across her beautiful face. He couldn’t help but notice the papers sticking out of the reticule hanging from her wrist.
“I’m sorry there won’t be time for me to look at your documents.”
She smiled at him. “You weren’t going to look at them anyway, were you?”
“I’m beginning to think I may have to if I want to find out your name.”
One of the carriage wheels hit a hole and almost bounced both of them out of the seat. They looked at each other and laughed, but Race didn’t slow the horses.
“Are you all right?” he asked as the curricle bumped along at a mad-dash clip.
“I’m enjoying the excitement,” she exclaimed. “Keep going.”
Race liked the duchess more and more. He was sure if he’d had any other young lady with him today, she would be screaming or fainting from fear.
Race wouldn’t be so careless if he wasn’t sure he could handle the horses as they darted around the slower traffic. He and his cousins had been racing curricles since they were boys. And they still loved to do it when they were out at Morgan’s Valleydale estate.
Within minutes, he’d pulled the bays up short in front of her house. He set the brake on the curricle and hopped down. He reached for the duchess, grabbed her by the waist, giving her a twirl around before setting her feet on the ground. He didn’t know what madness came over him, but he bent down and kissed her soundly, quickly on her soft lips and stepped back.
Her green eyes rounded and she gasped. At last he’d done something that left her speechless.
He smiled. “Thank you for going to the park with me, Your Grace.”
“You kissed me,” she whispered. “In bright daylight.”
“Yes, I did. I promised you would know just how attracted I am to you.”
Fear replaced shock on her face. “Someone might have seen you.” Her gaze darted from side to side to see if anyone was standing in the street, watching them.
“No one saw me. I checked to see if anyone was nearby as I swung you around. He reached back into the carriage and grabbed the food basket. “Get used to it, Duchess, I’m sure I’ll kiss you again.” He handed her the basket, tipped his hat to her, and climbed back into the carriage.
“Race,” the duchess said and rushed up to the side of the carriage as he picked up the ribbons and released the brake handle.
She looked up at him with bright eyes and rose-tinted lips. Race’s stomach flipped.
“Susannah,” she said and then stepped away from the carriage. “My name is Susannah.”
The rush of hot, heady desire raced through him, and he smiled as he drank in her beauty. He flicked the ribbons on the horses’ rumps, and the carriage took off at breakneck speed.
Six
My Dearest Grandson Alexander,
Here are more wise words from Lord Chesterfield: “Consider all your own circumstances seriously, and you will find that, of all the arts, the art of pleasing is the most necessary for you to study and possess. A silly tyrant said, ‘Let them hate as long as they fear.’ A wise man would have said, ‘As long as they love me, I have nothing to fear.’ Judge from your own daily experience of the efficacy of that pleasing; for in men it is more engaging than knowledge, in women, than beauty.”
Your Loving Grandmother,
Lady Elder
RACE STRODE THROUGH HIS FRONT DOOR, SLINGING off his cape and throwing his hat and gloves onto a side table.
“Mrs. Frost,” he called as he walked down the corridor to the drawing room.
He entered, taking off his coat and tossing it across a chair that sat by the window. As he untied his neckcloth and loosened his tight collar, Mrs. Frost appeared in the doorway, looking alarmed.
“Yes, my lord?” she asked, twisting the hem of her apron with her short, stubby fingers.
He hadn’t meant to frighten the woman, but he had to admit he had seldom stormed into the house the way he had moments ago.
“I’m expecting my cousins promptly. Don’t stand on ceremony. S
how them in here immediately when they arrive.”
“Yes, my lord.”
He picked up his coat and rummaged in the pocket. Pulling out some coins, he said, “If they get here within the hour, a lad will arrive at the back door. Give him these, and thank him for the good job.” He dropped the money into her palms.
“Yes, my lord. Will there be anything else?”
“That’s all for now.”
Mrs. Frost turned away, and Race went to the window and looked out. As the duchess came to mind, a peaceful calm settled over him. So Susannah was her name. A lovely name for a beautiful, confident lady. He couldn’t see her house from this window. He would need to go into his book room at the back of his house for that. Somehow just knowing she was not far from his back door pleased him immensely.
He smiled and then chuckled to himself. All it took to get her to tell him her name was a quick, albeit possessive, kiss on the street. That had been risky. Downright foolish, in fact, especially if she had been ruined years ago, as he suspected. But he hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He had wanted to kiss her since he first saw her walking toward him in his crowded music room. After Gibby’s foolhardy stunt and their wild ride through Town, Race’s inhibitions were down, and his senses were acutely aware of his surroundings. He’d kissed her without forethought. He was glad he had, and now he couldn’t wait to kiss her again. But next time he wanted to linger over the kiss and take time to taste her sweetness. He wanted to hold her close and feel the warmth of her pliable body in his arms.
She was surprised he had kissed her, but she wasn’t angry. That pleased him.
There was something exciting about her, something intriguing and elusive. Because she withheld her past from him, it made him want to know everything about her. And he wanted to know it from her, not past copies of scandal sheets or anyone’s faded memory of that time. Not that he thought her past would change how he felt about her. It wouldn’t. He was much more interested in the present.
Did it matter that she wanted his grandmother’s pearls? Not one damn bit. He had no intentions of giving them up, no matter what her documents said.
And all that aside, he wanted her. That was as plain and simple as night and day. She wasn’t indifferent to him, either. He was sure of that. He’d sensed passion in her that afternoon in his home when he had stood so close to her he felt her minty breath caress his lips.
He wasn’t being foolhardy. He realized there was still the possibility she was working with Captain Spyglass, Winston, Smith, or possibly some other person in order to obtain the necklace. So why was he so attracted to her that he risked kissing her on the street? Because she enchanted him. Because she was so different from the usual London lady that caught his fancy.
The priceless Talbot pearls were rare and had a long history. No one had collars made like that anymore. He really wasn’t surprised so many people wanted them. But the pearls would remain safely tucked away in his safe hidden behind some books on his bookshelf.
Race stared out at the side lawn of his immaculately kept grounds. Even the vegetable and herb gardens were tended to perfection. Race liked order in his life, and Susannah was disturbing that, but in a way that was exhilarating. Even now, he should be concentrating on Gibby and his problem, but instead Race was remembering a warm, firm kiss on soft, sweet lips, and astonishment sparkling in cool green eyes.
“Race, what the devil is going on?” Morgan said, walking into the drawing room with his usual swagger. “I was at home when some lad showed up and said for me to come to your house right away.”
“Good, you’re here. Sit down.” Race turned away from the window and walked over to the mahogany sideboard that was inlaid with ivory swirls, and poured a splash of claret into two glasses.
“All right,” Morgan said and seated himself in a large upholstered chair. “I don’t like that pensive look on your face. What’s going on?”
Race walked over and handed him a glass. “I don’t think you’re going to like what I have to tell you.”
A wrinkle formed between Morgan’s eyes. “That sounds ominous. There’s nothing wrong with Blake, is there?”
“No, it’s Gibby.”
Morgan leaned forward. “Is he hurt?”
“Not yet.” Race took a drink from his glass. The deep red wine went down hard and settled like a rock in his stomach. Race was frustrated that he hadn’t been able to stop the insanity in the park. “He’s been challenged to a duel, and he intends to fight.”
Morgan jumped up from the chair, wine sloshing out of his glass over his hand, to stand toe-to-toe with Race. “Damnation, Race, you had better be lying to me or pulling a prank, but either way, this is no way to amuse yourself.”
Morgan was an inch or two taller than Race, but Race still managed to look him square in the eyes and hold his ground. “I assure you, Cousin, I’m not doing either one.”
“This is lunacy. He is too old to duel, not to mention it’s been against the law for years.”
“I know all that and told him so, but he insists he’s going to go through with it.”
“This is unbelievable. Why didn’t you tell him he couldn’t do that, and put an immediate end to this?”
Race’s frown deepened. “There is one small problem you seem to be overlooking, Morgan. Gib is a grown man. Besides, didn’t it cross your mind that I might have already told him that, as well as every other reason I could think of to insist this fight will not take place?”
“One of you had better be dead or dying,” Blake said, striding into Race’s drawing room with a grimace on his face. “But no, you both look healthy as horses to me, so why was I told to get over here for an urgent matter? I was already in my carriage, about to take my new bride for a ride in the park, when a ragamuffin showed up and told me I had to get over here in half a shake.”
“It’s urgent all right,” Race said, walking over to the sideboard.
“Damned urgent,” Morgan agreed and took a long drink from his glass.
“All right,” Blake said, his concerned gaze darting from one cousin to the other. “In that case, one of you best speak up quickly and tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s Gibby,” Race said. “I was in the park less than half an hour ago and, while I was there, a man named Steven Prattle approached Gibby and challenged him to a duel.”
“What the devil?” Blake said.
Race handed Blake a glass of the dark red wine and said, “It’s true.”
“You were there and heard the challenge?” Blake asked with an incredulous expression on his face.
“Every blasted word.”
“Well, why in the hell didn’t you stop him?”
If only he knew.
Race was getting tired of the accusations, but losing his temper with his cousins wouldn’t help solve this problem.
A tired half chuckle escaped Race’s lips. “Give me some credit, Blake. It’s not as if I wasn’t trying like the devil himself to stop the whole thing. Do you think I want to see Gibby having a boxing match at his age?”
“Boxing?” Morgan asked.
Blake edged closer to Race. “With bare-knuckle fists?”
“Yes,” Race admitted. “As farfetched as it sounds, the man gave Gib his choice of weapons, and the old dandy chose his fists.”
“You can’t fight a duel by pugilism,” Morgan exclaimed. “That’s outrageous. What kind of tomfoolery are you asking us to believe, Race?”
“The cold, hard facts, Morgan,” Race said, raising his voice, too.
“All right, calm down both of you,” Blake said. “Just start at the beginning, Race. What were you and Gibby doing when he was challenged?”
“Having a conversation. I was there with the duchess, and I saw Gibby with a group of people who were waiting to see a man crawl into a cage with a tiger.”
Morgan’s gaze zeroed in on Race’s face. “You were there with the duchess?”
“Yes,” Race said innocent
ly. “I took her for a ride in the park.”
“What duchess?” Blake asked, his gaze sweeping from one cousin to the other.
“That’s right,” Morgan said with a sudden twinkle in his eyes. “You didn’t meet her, did you?” Morgan turned to Race. “And you haven’t mentioned her to Blake?”
“It’s been only three days since I met her,” Race said, unable to hide his annoyance at being hammered with questions about Susannah and Gibby. “I haven’t seen Blake until now. He’s married, remember? He’s not attending the parties as often or visiting the clubs at night as he used to.”
Confusion wrinkled Blake’s brow and screwed up his lips before he asked, “What duchess are you two talking about, and what were you doing in the park with her?”
“Obviously, he was courting her, but what he was courting her for I don’t know.”
“Morgan,” Race said in a warning voice.
“Duchesses are usually married to a duke. What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into?” Blake asked.
“She’s the Dowager Duchess of Blooming. Ever heard of her?”
“I can speak for myself, Morgan.”
Morgan gave him a dry smile. “Of course, my apologies, Race.”
“I’ve met the Duke of Blooming a couple of times,” Blake said. “I can’t say I know him well. He seldom comes to London. Why were you with his mother?”
Morgan chuckled deep in his throat.
Race shook his head in exasperation.
Blake’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and he said, “No, wait, if I remember correctly, the dowager duchess isn’t his mother. She is his father’s second wife, or maybe she was the third wife, but I was told she was much younger than he was. I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”
“Probably not,” Race said.
“Take my word for it,” Morgan added. “You would have remembered if you’d met her. She is as beautiful as Henrietta but not quite as young. I’d say she’s about our age, thirtyish, wouldn’t you, Race?”
Morgan was being impossible. “Yes. And if you had met her, it would have probably been somewhere other than here. This is her first visit to London in twelve years.”