Only a Duchess Would Dare
Page 29
Another smile played at the corners of her lips, irritating the hell out of him even though he found it extremely provocative. There was nothing humorous in this debacle if, by some cruel twist of fate, she had truly been left to his care.
“Lord Palmer was my guardian for the past year and a half. Before him there was Lord Brembly, and before him, Viscount Westhavener.”
Blake stared in disbelief. “How many guardians have you had?”
Very sensibly she said, “Far too many, I assure you, Your Grace.”
“I’m trying hard not to be frustrated, Miss Tweed, but I’m not making much progress because I’m not seeing a connection between you and me, or my father.”
She remained so calm it was maddening. It annoyed the hell out of him and challenged him at the same time. This lady was very confident of her place in life, though he couldn’t imagine why, considering the convoluted story coming out of her.
She lifted her slightly arched brows. “I’m afraid the explanation is rather lengthy.”
Blake glanced up at the clock on the mantel. It was past three o’clock already, and he hadn’t even started on the accounting ledger. No doubt he wouldn’t make it to see Morgan’s horse compete at Rotten Row—and he wouldn’t make Race’s card game either if he didn’t get Miss Tweed settled right away. The work for his solicitor would just have to wait until tomorrow.
“As soon as I find or receive the correspondence you’ve mentioned, I’ll have my solicitor look it over and straighten this out. In the meantime, tell me where you need to go tonight, and I’ll see that you get there.”
Her shoulders stiffened, though just barely. “I have nowhere to go, Your Grace, but here.”
Those simple but unflinching words took the starch out of him. Either she had come up with the grandest scheme imaginable to get in his good graces, or she was serious.
Blake turned away from her for a moment and silently cursed under his breath. What the bloody hell was he going to do with her?
He turned back to face her and said, “Perhaps you have a relative or a friend who will take you in.”
“None that I know of.”
“You have no relatives at all?”
His question brought a long moment of silence from her. There was an uncertain quality to her eyes as they searched his face.
“Surely if there were anyone, my father would have put their name on the list before that of a stranger.”
That she had no one was hard for him to believe. Sometimes Blake felt as if he were in some way related to half the people in London, and because of his grandmother’s four marriages, he probably was.
“I’ve had a very long day, Your Grace. May I sit down?” she asked.
He couldn’t very well say no. “Yes, of course.”
If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have asked her to take a seat earlier, but nothing had gone as it should have from the moment he walked through his front door. Ashby had even had to prompt him to do the proper thing and offer tea.
She sat on the dark-green brocade settee with surprising assuredness for a nineteen-year-old with no place to stay. Blake was in no mood to sit still, but he took a side chair opposite her anyway.
Mrs. Ellsworth, his housekeeper, brought in a tray with tea and placed it on the table that stood between him and his guest. Blake waited impatiently while tea was poured, though he declined a cup.
He watched Miss Tweed sip her tea from the dainty china and noticed her hands again. He liked the feminine look of them. Her fingers appeared smooth and nimble, nails neatly trimmed. He had the sudden thought of those hands feather-soft on his chest, trailing seductively over his body.
Blake mentally shook himself and said, “It looks as if I’m going to need that lengthy explanation after all, Miss Tweed. Where exactly did you say you come from?”
“Originally?” That wistful look came into her eyes, but again only for a moment. She took a deep breath, and he had the feeling she was calling on some inner strength to sustain her.
Blake realized that she wasn’t one to feel sorry for herself, and he liked that about her. He rarely noticed so many things about any young lady. Over years of attending the Season, he’d come to think that there was little difference among them, but Miss Tweed could have him rethinking that.
“I was born in Dover, but I haven’t lived there for quite some time. My parents were killed in a carriage accident when I was seven. I went to live with my only relative, my father’s half brother, Lord Phillip Bennett, and his lady. Unfortunately, Lord Phillip met with an untimely death at sea a couple of years later. Viscount and Viscountess Westhavener were next on the list. They were wonderful to me. They hired a governess who taught me to read, write, and add numbers as well as all the things a young lady is supposed to learn to adequately manage a large household. I was with them for four and a half years.”
“Then what happened?”
“Viscount Westhavener was struck by lightning late one afternoon as he walked in his garden. The viscountess asked that I be allowed to stay with her, but unfortunately it couldn’t be allowed. My guardianship had already been decided by my father’s long and able list.
“I had to go live with Lord Brembly and his lady in Dorset. When he died by falling off the roof, I was uprooted once again and sent to Mr. Henry Pippin’s home in Essex. He was thrown from his horse and killed shortly after I arrived, so I was moved yet again to Lord Palmer’s home. Regrettably, he succumbed to consumption only a few weeks ago.”
“Bloody hell, that’s way too many guardians to have had in twelve years!”
“Yes, it’s been most unfortunate. And now I find myself at the door of the last man on the list.”
“Mine. The Duke of Blakewell.”
“Yes.”
Damnation. If all she said was true, and it was too bizarre not to be, what was he going to do about her? He was having a devil of a time just keeping up with his duties as a duke. And now he was being pressured by some political hogs to take his father’s place in Parliament. But all that aside, there was no way he could take on the responsibility of a young lady. He didn’t have a thought in hell about what to do with her.
“Miss Tweed, if my father and mother were here, I’m sure they would be honored to abide by your father’s wishes and take care of you. But as you can understand, I can’t be your guardian.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected from her, but it wasn’t the spark of triumph that flashed in her bright eyes. She looked pleased, as if he’d said exactly what she wanted to hear.
“I understand perfectly, Your Grace, if you feel you can’t be my guardian. I’m going to be twenty at the end of summer, and I truly don’t need anyone to look after me. I’m more than qualified to take care of myself. All you need to do is draw up a document and sign it, giving me power to be mistress over my inheritance.”
Blake gazed at her lovely face. He could see in the expression on her face and in her blue eyes that she believed what she was saying. She thought she could handle her affairs and take care of herself as proficiently as a man. He almost laughed. He, of all people, knew how difficult it was to keep up with account books.
She had the countenance of an innocent, not the guise of a woman of the world. Looking at her then, he knew a guardian was exactly what she needed, because he was thinking how kissable her lips looked, how soft her skin appeared, how he would love to feel her shapely body pressed solidly against his.
He cleared his throat and tamped down his wayward thoughts. She was not trying to be seductive in any manner, yet he found her immensely so.
“I’m still not totally convinced I’m in charge of you, but I’m certainly not about to sign anything at this point.”
She placed her empty cup on the tray. “Once you are convinced that what I say is true, I hope you will reconsider allowing me to be mistress of my inhe
ritance. Besides, it’s in your own best interest. I don’t want to see anything happen to you.”
That was an odd statement. “What are you talking about?”
“The inevitable, Your Grace. All five of my previous guardians have died. There is a curse on the list of names my father made all those years ago. If you take on the responsibility of being my guardian, I’m afraid you will die, too.”
A quick smile parted his lips, and then he laughed with ease. She was so refreshingly direct that he was absolutely taken with her.
“You must be trying to amuse me, Miss Tweed. Congratulations. It’s working. But I’m afraid your mind is playing tricks with you. There is no such thing as a curse.”
She gave him an indulgent smile but said, “I beg to differ. Everyone who has ever been responsible for me and my considerable inheritance has died an untimely death.”
Blake had no intention of dying any time soon.
He gave her a roguish smile and said, “Bad luck, Miss Tweed. It’s all just bad luck.”
She sat back in the settee and folded her hands in her lap. “Then perhaps you need to think long and hard about that, Your Grace, because all that bad luck just landed at your door.”
A Duke to Die For
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About the Author
New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Amelia Grey’s awards include the Booksellers Best, Aspen Gold, and the Golden Quill. Writing as Gloria Dale Skinner, she won the coveted Romantic Times Award for Love and Laughter and the prestigious Maggie Award. Her books have sold to many countries in Europe, Indonesia, Russia, and most recently to Japan. Several of her books have also been featured in Doubleday and Rhapsody Book Clubs.
Amelia read her first romance book when she was thirteen and has been a devoted reader of love stories ever since. She is the author of over twenty-five books. Happily married to her high school sweetheart for over thirty-five years, Amelia lives in Northwest Florida.
A Duke to Die For
Stunning Regency romance from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Amelia Grey
Miss Henrietta Tweed is convinced that she carries a curse—one that’s responsible for killing her previous guardians. So when she’s sent to Lucien Trent, the fifth Duke of Blakewell and the last man her father trusted to care for her, she knows the only way to save the duke is to persuade him to sign over her inheritance and set her free. Lucien doesn’t believe there’s a curse, but he is certainly more enchanted by Henrietta than he ever expected to be…
“Intriguing danger, sharp humor, and plenty of simmering sexual chemistry.”
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