“You are certainly entitled to be angry, even bitter. Why, were I in your unexpected situation, Miss Radbourn . . .” The duke hesitated and gave her a discerning look. “You are being too gracious by far, bearing in mind your predicament, through no fault of your own.”
The man had a way with words. Of course it was not her fault! Was he really appalled or making fun of her? Surely he did not think she was responsible for her own capture.
He continued with questions. “Is your home in London, Miss Radbourn?”
Kat picked up her fork and stabbed at her meat. “Brighton. I live with my aunt and uncle. They have no children of their own.”
“Might I inquire the names of your aunt and uncle? Perhaps I know the family surname.” He put a morsel in his mouth and chewed waiting for her answer.
The Duke’s attention, together with Morgan’s lack of comment, unnerved her. His Grace had not said anything wide of the mark. He was quite captivating even though this felt like an inquisition and he the firing squad. Morgan’s brooding gaze penetrated.
“You must have experienced much of the world in your travels,” she answered. “I seriously doubt our families would be in the same political circles. I hardly imagine my meager family would be of interest to you, Your Grace. However, they are Albert and Elizabeth Thornton. My parents were . . .”
When she hesitated, he asked, “Were?”
Kat lowered her eyes to the silver clutched in her hand. “I lost my mother and father in a carriage accident when I was a child.”
“I do beg your pardon.” The duke became sympathetic. “Please accept my sincere condolences and my humble apologies for being so crude.”
Kat raised her chin. “Thank you. There is no need to apologize. My aunt and uncle are caring people. They gave me a good home and loved me as if I was their own.”
“They sound most admirable. And their home is in Brighton?”
She wondered again if perhaps the duke pretended the empathy he portrayed or if he had another purpose altogether in asking her these questions. “Actually, it is Chelmouth. A small community about three days ride north from the coast of Brighton. You probably have not heard of it.”
The duke cleared his throat. “I have not traveled that far north of Brighton. I do, however, know every port along the coast.”
Sadness pierced her breast. “Odd, that you should mention ports. My brother is captain of his own ship and has docked there every year until the last two.”
His gaze darted to Morgan, and then back to her. His expression grew shuttered. “Your brother?”
She noticed the calculating glint in his eye. “Yes. My brother took me to my aunt and uncle after our parents’ death. Then he left me.”
Again, the duke cast a look toward Morgan in silent communication. “He left you?”
Kat remembered the incident as if it happened yesterday. She struggled to keep her voice from cracking. “He thought it better than taking me with him to live on his ship.”
The duke’s voice grew softer. “I quite agree. I’m sure he had your best interests at heart.”
Kat met his stare. “I know that now. But in the mind of a child, he deserted me.”
Morgan’s gut twisted at the pain in her eyes. “Giles. Do you think we may find more pleasant conversation? Not dwell on how Miss Radbourn came to be here. It smacks of my lack of finesse.” And stupidity.
“Finesse?” Giles gave a bark of laughter. “Good God, man!” Catching himself, he immediately directed his next words to her. “I do beg your pardon for my outburst, Miss Radbourn.”
Morgan swallowed his frustration when she simply tilted her head in a graceful bow in exoneration. Giles was a pain in the arse.
“A beautiful woman like you, how is it you have escaped so long without a husband? I assume there is no husband since a nuptial is pending?”
Her shoulders straightened and she bristled like a little peacock. “No. I am not married nor promised to another.”
“Well, now. There are a lot of aristocrats in London. But then you have landed a titled lord and wealthy land owner in our host.”
Morgan’s exasperation had grown to its limit. “I don’t think it’s necessary . . .”
“It is not necessary to make the lady even more uncomfortable with this predicament already forced on her.” Giles completely ignored the menacing glower Morgan tried to send him. “However, I cannot ignore the young lady’s unfortunate situation.” He then tuned his gaze on the lady. “Be assured, my dear Miss Radbourn, you have my protection.”
Morgan had to swallow the retort that came to his tongue. He glared to keep from leaping across the table to pound his fists into the very face of the one who dared to insinuate himself in her favor—and after putting her through an inquisition.
Mrs. Beasley came in with a breeze, offering one of her most delicious confections, saving him from his own folly.
Kat’s lips slanted in a perplexed smile directed at Giles. “Do I need your protection?”
“Not from me you don’t,” Morgan quipped. Deuce, how absurd that sounded. She wouldn’t be in this mess if not for him. Why would she trust him? Better yet, why would she trust Giles? She’d just met him, for God’s sake!
Giles paid no attention to Morgan’s discomfort and entirely too much to his lovely houseguest. “I hope it will not be so. All the same, you have it.”
“Tis rare to find a gentleman gallant enough to offer protection without expecting certain . . . liberties in return,” Katherine said.
Morgan gave a cynical snort in his friend’s direction. That ought to tighten his cravat a notch or two.
“I’m sure you have no such expectations, Your Grace.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “The protection of a Duke. My Goodness. I would be the envy of every young maiden. Oh, dear. Did I assume correctly, there is no Duchess?”
The damned girl was trifling with him. Watching her face, Morgan agonized whether she was near to accepting the offer or simply amused.
Giles didn’t help matters by leaning toward her and speaking in a conspirator whisper. “You are correct, Miss Radbourn. I am a lonely man.”
Teeth grinding, Morgan refused to acknowledge the green monster dancing on his back.
“Hmmm. A Duke.” Miss Radbourn actually cooed. “Are you willing to make the same sacrifice like Lord Whetherford?”
Giles coughed and cleared his throat as though he swallowed mud instead of the wine in his goblet. The blasted woman presumed a proposal from Giles? A familiar red haze swam in Morgan’s brain. “Are you refusing my offer for a better one, Miss Radbourn?” Morgan asked through clenched teeth.
She met his gaze. “Surely you would not deny me the title of a duchess, my lord—if the Duke is offering?”
The little minx fluttered her lashes and swept her glance to Giles.
Blood and the devil!
Before Giles could get his tongue out of his throat, she continued. “Let me warmly give you my gratitude, your Grace. I sincerely appreciate your kindness. I would never refuse your protection.”
Morgan’s breathe caught. The damned woman accepted Giles proposal—which he had not intentionally made. The damned sod. How in hell had this happened—and right in front of his nose? Silence stretched for several moments while Giles hid his shock. He’d been in worse situations. No doubt he would recover from this one, too.
“I believe a man should stand by his word,” Katherine stared pointedly at Morgan. “A man’s word is everything, is it not?” Then her gaze returned to Giles. “I must respectfully tell you, before you offer, I have already accepted Lord Whetherford’s proposal.”
Morgan sucked air into his lungs and savored the warmth spreading through his chest.
Giles calmly folded his linen napkin and placed it beside the chi
na plate. “Forgive me, Miss Radbourn. I’m afraid I forgot my manners. How thoughtless of me.” He took a long breath. “A man’s worth is his word. How noble you recognize and honor a man’s word. And you, a woman.”
The peacock was back. Her shoulders stiffened and she sat taller in her seat. Fire flared in her eyes while she kept a serene smile on her lips. Giles should have learned his lesson when he offered his protection. Kat’s sharp wit and intelligence matched his own. And she had a delightful way of speaking her mind.
“Never say you believe one’s word is for the male gender only, Your Grace.”
“Ha. He would never say such a thing. Would you, Your Grace?” Morgan taunted in his direction.
Giles gave him a hard look, which didn’t bother him in the least.
Then facing her, Giles laughed. “You, my dear, are a delight. You stimulate a man’s mind.” He hoisted his goblet. “If you are set on marrying my friend here, may I propose a toast?”
It was unbelievable at how fast Giles had gone from Miss Radbourn’s adversary to her champion. And if he kept smiling at her like that, Morgan was going to put a fist right in the middle of his cocky face.
Chapter 8
“Are you satisfied?” Morgan accused as soon as they were in the study.
“I thought I was quite charming.” Giles calmly responded.
“Charming while you were drilling her.” Morgan gritted through his teeth.
“Merely inquisitive.”
“Hell, Giles. It was more than inquisitive,” he threw over his shoulder as he strode to the liquor table.
Giles settled himself in one of the leather chairs. With an elbow propped on each chair-arm, he put his hands together and steepled his fingers.
Morgan studied his friend. “Well. What’s going through that intrusive brain of yours?”
“She really is quite charming. After the enlightening story you told me, I did not expect her to be so appealing.” Giles’ voice held a trace of awe.
“I did try to tell you.” Morgan pulled the glass knob from the top of the decanter.
“You know, Morgan, you can learn a lot about a person just by listening to them talk.”
Despite his annoyance, Morgan relented when his friend frowned. “And what did you learn?”
“A diamond of the first water. Here is a lady of quality and breeding. I found her gracious. As well-mannered as any hostess of any well respected home. A true lady in every definition of the word. It’s obvious she has been reared with nobility. It is also evident having the finer things in life are second nature to her.”
“Yet you behaved like a bloody interrogator in there.”
“Of course. How else was I to get to know her?” Giles speared him with a glare. “I was acting in your best interest.”
For a moment, Morgan wanted to pour the contents of the bottle on Giles’ head. Regretfully, he did not. Instead, he picked up a second glass.
“Have you not wondered about her family? Did you not question if she were someone of the upper crust or just who her family could be? Perhaps, it may well be someone in Parliament?”
“Come now, Giles. She was in an alley without a chaperone.” After handing Giles his drink, Morgan turned to the matching chair and lowered his large frame onto the worn leather.
“It is a possibility. It would be one hell of a bloody dilemma if you just happened to kidnap the relative of one of our friends.”
Good God, what if it were someone they knew? This woman’s family may not only have his hide, but they could be a formidable enemy. His self-assurance took a hard fall. Giles pointed out what he should have considered. “No, it never crossed my mind.”
“What about this brother she spoke of? Where is he?” Giles asked.
“That’s the first time I heard of him.” Morgan wondered why she had not mentioned a brother. Well, hell. Why would she? Between his guilt and falling all over himself to make amends, she never had the chance.
“Why is he not here storming down your walls, demanding you release her? Why has he not come to rescue her? If she has a brother, where the devil is the bounder?”
“How would I know?” Morgan took a long swallow. He’d not considered a raging brother, or anyone else defending her honor. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of coming to blows—or worse—with a member of her family.
“Yes, well. I still have to wonder why he has not come for her." Giles raised one booted foot to settle on his opposite knee. “Good God, Morgan! A bloody brother! If she were my sister, I’d have your head. After I cut off certain other parts of your anatomy.”
Morgan silently agreed with him.
“Then there is the uncle. Thornton,” Giles said.
“Thornton. Yes, I’ve heard the name. I believe it was in London.”
“Thornton, is connected with Glenshire.”
Morgan lowered his arm, all instincts on alert. “The devil you say.”
“Come now. I know it was many years ago, but never say your memory is fading, old man.”
Guardedly, Morgan searched his friend’s face. “Refresh it for me.”
Giles ambled to the sideboard to refill his drink. “The funds. The assistance. The mystery man who made the rescue for Glenshire possible. It was Albert Thornton, although that information was never made public.” After filling his glass, he held the bottle out to Morgan in a questioning gesture. Morgan shook his head in reply. Giles returned the decanter to its rightful place, then resettled himself in his chair.
“I met the man once. Rotherford held a discreet meeting with a few members of parliament. Thornton was there. Afterward, Rotherford told me it was Thornton who provided the means necessary for the mission to be successful.”
“Where was I when this meeting took place?”
“You retired. Remember? You left the service and all your dark deeds behind.”
Like ripping a scab off an old wound, vivid images rose haunting Morgan’s thoughts. Tormenting exploits of his past actions. Dangerous endeavors and suicidal missions. Not for one moment did he regret leaving that life. And now he was the Earl of Whetherford. If he were to carry on the family name and honor his father’s legacy, he had to move forward and consider his future—the future of Whetherford Manor. “You suppose that Thornton is her uncle?”
“Good God, I hope not.” Giles tipped his glass for a hefty swallow.
Morgan frowned. “Would he remember you?”
Giles brow rose in reservation. “Of that there is no doubt. Beyond being near untouchable, his mind is sharp as a quill. There were other enlightening things about the man that made me wonder the depth of his involvement or the extent of his knowledge on other matters of fact. So it’s best to think the girl’s relatives having the same name, is merely a coincidence.”
“Anyway, I take her home in the morning,” Morgan uttered. “Her family will be expecting us.”
Sprawled in the chair, Giles studied the brandy in his glass. “So, the next time we meet, you will be a married man?”
“If her relatives desire a hasty wedding.” Morgan squared his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter in the least to me.” After all, he planned to marry. He needed a wife to provide a Whetherford heir.
“I’d be worried about the brother.”
An angry man would be expected. But an incensed, protective brother would be doubly grievous.
“Miss Radbourn doesn’t seem any more taken with the idea of marriage than you. Her words agree, but her eyes tell another story. She may very well put a dagger in your heart on your wedding night.”
Morgan sighed as if the weight of the world rested solely on his shoulders and turned his eyes to the blue flames of the fire. His insides twisted to such an extent, a smarting ripped through his body. “I have wronged this woman.
I am prepared to give her anything she wishes.”
Giles seared him with a look. “Anything?” He set his tumbler on the oak table and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees giving Morgan his full attention. “I understood when you said you needed to come home and accept your duty. I understood when you said you were tired of the life we led. I too grew weary of the constant danger, even before my father died and left me a dukedom. I know you need to marry. But, be careful. Do not promise what you are not willing to give.”
Kat stared at the massive structure of her uncle’s country home. Her heart raced. Her anxious mind would not calm. How could she breathe a sigh of relief when her world was about to be turned upside down? Nothing she said had changed Whetherford’s mind, and she didn’t really want to be ruined. She should be excited and happy of her betrothal—instead of dreading the moment she must introduce him as her husband-to-be.
The carriage ride had been unbearable. They’d ridden in silence while Whetherford’s gaze bore into her. She somehow managed to keep her breathing steady. His dark brown coat and breeches matched the dark scowl of his features. With his arms crossed and his legs stretched out, he’d appeared relaxed, yet he was no simpering lord. Not with bulging muscles and a body made of steel.
She spent most of the trip wondering how she might prevent the marriage of her forced engagement. Then there were the moments when she did not think of her upcoming wedding—she was compellingly aware of him.
Even sneaking peeks had been a trial to her composure. Her gaze returned more than once to the stray lock hanging over his furrowed brow. The blue-black strands beckoned a woman’s fingers to caress their length. Kat couldn’t remember ever wanting to run her fingers through a man’s hair. The enthralling need to reach, to stroke . . . His smoldering gaze ensnared hers, making her jerk away.
The Right One (One and Only Series) Page 7