How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous)

by Ally Broadfield

  The land surrounding Walsley was so…green. She had been in such a hurry the previous day she hadn’t taken much time to notice the scenery. There was no sand, of course, but the hills and green pastures were spectacular. She didn’t understand how her mother could have adjusted so easily to life in the Bahamas after growing up here. Mama claimed Papa was worth any sacrifice, but Catherine had yet to meet a man she would be willing to trade even a broken carriage for.

  The duke stood in front of the house awaiting their arrival, his expression inscrutable. Though her stomach constricted at the sight of him, she found his open show of interest in their arrival intriguing. He descended the stairs as her carriage came to a crunching halt in the circular drive.

  A footman opened the carriage door and Cay bounded out, then yet another footman came forward to hand Diana and Catherine out. Cay ran toward the duke, then stopped suddenly and sat at attention a few feet in front of him, no doubt cowed by his stern countenance. Catherine took a deep, fortifying breath. Even her dog was intimidated by the duke, but she would not yield.

  “Good morning, Your Grace.” She curtsied and extended her hand.

  “Miss Malboeuf. How lovely to see you again.” He bowed, one side of his mouth curving in an almost smile.

  “I see you’ve met Cay.”

  He cast a suspicious glance at her dog. “I am not fond of small dogs.”

  Grinning at his obvious discomfort, she snapped her fingers. Cay darted to the carriage and followed it around to the stables.

  Catherine sucked in a breath as she took in the full measure of the manor. The house was even more imposing in the daylight. There were more gardens than she ever imagined, and she located what she thought to be the rose garden Mama had mentioned on the upper terrace.

  Diana cleared her throat and Catherine turned back to the duke. “Your Grace, this is Diana Ledsome, my companion.”

  He inclined his head to Diana and led them both into the house. They followed him down the corridor to the drawing room and he gestured for them to sit. Diana moved to the back of the room and made herself comfortable on a blue-and-gold settee, from which she would pretend not to listen to their conversation.

  The duke paced to the fireplace and turned to stand facing her, hands clasped behind his back. “Miss Malboeuf, though I don’t countenance your methods, I do have some sympathy for your situation. It must be difficult to travel halfway around the world on a fool’s errand.”

  He had a wonderful ability to twist what ought to have been a sympathetic statement into an insult. She straightened her shoulders. “Your Grace, you are too kind. However, I have to disagree with your assessment. I came to England for a great many reasons, the first of which is to locate my great-grandmother’s journal. She passed away many years ago and willed the journal to my grandmother. I have proof of ownership should you wish to see it.” She reached into her reticule and pulled out a well-worn sheet of foolscap. After unfolding the document and smoothing the creases, she handed it to the duke. A jolt shot through her when his fingers brushed across her palm.

  His eyes moved back and forth quickly. “I fail to see how this is relevant.”

  Catherine stood and paced toward the fireplace. “The journal was willed to my grandmother. The document proves ownership.”

  “Miss Malboeuf, if this journal is so important to your family, why was it left behind when your family vacated the house?” He raised his brows.

  “When my grandfather was killed, a distant cousin inherited the title and the house. He insisted that the journal belonged to him, and my grandmother chose not to fight him since she never expected to return to England.”

  “Yes. I have heard of your cousin. He allowed Walsley Manor to fall into disrepair, and eventually sold off most of the furnishings to combat his growing debts. It was not a sound decision in any case, since the house, along with all of the property, was entailed.”

  She met his eyes. “I don’t understand. Is this a part of your dukedom, then?”

  A charged silence passed between them before he answered. “No. Since your cousin died without issue, the viscountcy was eventually declared extinct and the property reverted back to the crown. I purchased it for a song just over five years ago.”

  He paced back and forth across the room, crossing paths with Catherine in what likely appeared to Diana as a carefully choreographed dance of impatience on both of their parts.

  Catherine stopped and placed her hands on her hips. “Is your dukedom without property, then?”

  “Heavens, no.”

  “Then why did you purchase Walsley Manor?”

  He ceased pacing. The intensity in his eyes both thrilled and frightened her. “My duty as duke is to add as much wealth and property to the dukedom as possible. I found it to be a sound long-term investment.”

  She took a step toward him. “If that is the only value it holds for you, perhaps you would be willing to sell it back to my family.”

  He held up his hand, preventing Catherine from coming closer. “Absolutely not. However, since I have little use for an old woman’s journal, I shall grant you permission to search my library. But my offer expires at the end of the day. I have already wasted enough time on this foolishness.”

  She saw through his ploy to distract her, but decided to capitulate. For now. “Oh, thank you, Your Grace, you—”

  “However,” he interrupted, “I expect you to return everything to its proper location. Not a book is to be left out of place. They are organized by subject and author, and I do not wish to have to rearrange them again.”

  Catherine bit back a smile. As if the great duke would be the one to have to do the rearranging if it were necessary. “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “If you’ll accompany me, I’ll take you to the library. You can enter by the door this time.”

  She glanced at Diana, who snored softly. Turning back to him, she said, “I’m afraid my companion still hasn’t recovered from our voyage. Life on board ship did not agree with her. If you don’t object, I would prefer to let her rest. Surely there are enough servants around this place to make a chaperone unnecessary.”

  Shaking his head, he cast his eyes upward. “There are no more or less than there were when you arrived unchaperoned last evening.” He held his hand toward the door, indicating she should precede him. “After you. The sooner this undertaking begins, the sooner it will end.”

  The thick carpet lining the long corridor muffled their footsteps as they marched to the library. Catherine stopped on the threshold and glanced around before slipping off her half boots. Due to its smaller size and length, the journal ought to have been easily discernable from the other books on the shelves, but even in broad daylight there was no sign of it. She decided to resume her explorations by returning to the area where she had searched the previous evening. This time, she focused on the books on the bottom shelf. She lifted her skirts slightly and knelt, removing them one by one and painstakingly stacking them in order on the floor. She hoped her careful handling of the books would put the duke at ease and he would leave her to her task. Instead, he settled himself behind his desk and shamelessly watched her work. With three younger brothers, she was adept at ignoring those around her, so she simply applied herself to her mission and soon forgot he was there.

  The journal was not to be found on, below, behind, or anywhere else in this section of shelving. After carefully replacing all of the books, she stood and stretched, pressing her palms against her lower back and arching over them. At this rate, one day would not afford her enough time to complete a thorough search. Hooves clattered against cobblestones, and she moved to the window. A cart carried some sort of delivery for the kitchens.

  “You seem perplexed,” the duke said from his desk.

  She startled, having forgotten he was still in the room.

  “That is because I am,” she said absently. “I hadn’t expected it to be so difficult to locate the journal.”

  “Why are you so cert
ain it is here?”

  “Because my grandmother hid it in the library.”

  He lifted his chin. “Why is the journal so important to you?”

  Catherine clasped her hands in front of her and kept her eyes trained on the floor. “It is a family heirloom. My mother was devastated by the death of her father, and her mother died during their voyage to America. It would mean so much to her to have some token of her family.”

  “Balderdash,” the duke said.

  She snapped her head up. “I beg your pardon?”

  He stood and moved to the front of his desk, then leaned against it and met her gaze in a clear challenge. “Balderdash. The dutiful daughter act doesn’t become you. Why do you really want that journal?”

  Catherine’s mouth dropped open. How could he know there was more to the journal? Her lips moved as if of their own accord, preventing her from forming words.

  The duke tapped his foot against the floor. “I’m waiting.”

  She crossed her arms. “Your Grace. I have never been so insulted. I am not accustomed to having my word questioned.”

  “Well you must become accustomed to it if you are going to continue to break into other people’s homes at your whim.”

  “You should as well if you are going to lie to your guests about your whereabouts.”

  He took a step forward and looked down his nose at her. Every part of her body awakened to his proximity. A whiff of cedar tickled her nose.

  “Miss Malboeuf, you would do well to learn the customs of English society. It is my prerogative to turn away callers I do not wish to see. When my butler told you I was not at home, you should have understood it meant I did not wish to give you audience.”

  She took a step back, hoping her mind would reengage. “It is still an untruth, which is the same thing as a lie. Why not tell the truth? Then I would have known your intentions from the start.”

  The duke clenched his jaw. “Perhaps you should seek out someone who can provide you lessons in deportment.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Your Grace. I attended a class on deportment in New Orleans.”

  His gaze dropped to her unshod feet. “It’s a pity you weren’t able to complete the course.”

  She supposed he was correct that it wasn’t proper for her to have removed her shoes, but she was accustomed to running about barefoot at home, and she wasn’t going to change that habit for one overbearing duke who didn’t deserve the amount of attention she had already wasted on him.

  “Let’s get to the point, Your Grace. I would like to purchase Walsley Manor from you.”

  He widened his stance and folded his arms across his chest. “That is out of the question. I will not sell my home to you under any circumstances.”

  Her heart pounded, suffusing her face with heat. “But it’s not even your home. It has no sentimental value for you.”

  “It has no sentimental value for you, either.”

  She tapped her fingers against her arm. “It once belonged to my family. That is more than can be said for you.”

  He studied her face, looking for a sign of weakness, no doubt. He sauntered back behind his desk and turned to meet her eyes. “Would you like to take a tour of the house?”

  Her mouth nearly dropped open. What was he up to now? “I…yes, thank you. I would.”

  He glanced at her half boots and returned his steady gaze to her. “Perhaps you’d like to put your boots back on first?”

  “If it pleases you, Your Grace.” She slipped her feet back into her half boots and shot him a tentative smile.

  He held out his arm to her and she took it. His warmth and sudden nearness sent an unwelcome shiver through her. Her body betrayed her as she struggled to determine his new strategy.

  “Where would you like to begin?”

  “I should like for you to show me your home as if I were an ordinary guest.”

  He made a sound suspiciously like a snort. “Ordinary is something you shall never be, Miss Malboeuf.”

  She took that as a compliment. “Be that as it may, I should like to start the tour from whichever place you would normally start.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t often give tours of the house, but since you’re already inside, it makes sense to start with the ballroom.”

  They proceeded to the ballroom in silence while Catherine attempted to deduce whether the duke didn’t allow visitors, or if he simply let his butler or housekeeper conduct the house tours. He moved so quickly through the wide corridor she barely had time to glimpse the exposed stone and occasional tapestry.

  He glanced down at her as they reached the gallery. “Are you familiar with the history of the house?”

  “No, not really. It makes my mother sad to tell stories about her parents or the house.” She leaned her head back and noted the detailed plasterwork on the walls and ceiling.

  The duke drew in an audible breath and let go of her arm. “The original house was built as a fortified manor during the eleventh century, but additions were added at various times from the thirteenth through the seventeenth centuries.”

  Catherine walked through the room, studying the elaborate plaster decoration on the walls and ceiling. A tapestry bearing a coat of arms hung at the end of the long, rectangular room. “Was that tapestry here when you purchased the property?”

  He clasped his hands behind his back. “No. Only a handful of the furnishings that were damaged or otherwise of little value were spared by your cousin.”

  She swallowed back regret at the loss of all of her family’s possessions. “So this tapestry depicts your coat of arms?”

  “This is not the Boulstridge crest, but that of my mother’s ancestors.” He pursed his lips and turned away.

  The chamber was quite long and narrow, but ideally suited to its purpose. It wasn’t difficult to imagine couples crossing back and forth across the floor in a lively dance. “Do you hold many balls here?”

  The duke came up behind her. “No. I’ve never held a ball here. My entertaining is generally limited to London.”

  Tilting her head to the side, she studied his face, the line of his chiseled jaw, his sculpted nose that was slightly crooked at the ridge, hinting that he hadn’t always been so poised and in control. He was a conundrum. Why would he want such a large house if he wasn’t going to entertain? It seemed certain the home he had inherited was equally as large. “Well, it is a shame not to take advantage of this lovely room when it is so perfectly designed for its intended use.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t imagine her mother in this house, but she could envision herself dancing with a handsome stranger in the ballroom.

  She ran her hand over one of the lead bars that separated the diamond patterns of the windowpanes. “I’m afraid New Orleans is very young compared to England. The oldest homes were built no more than a century ago.”

  She strolled to the end of the room to study another tapestry. The duke was strangely silent, so she continued speaking to fill the void. “Of course, there are many ruins in the Bahamas, but there is nothing that compares to this type of dwelling.” She halted in front of a faded painting at the other end of the room depicting a forest scene.

  The duke halted next to her. His scent of cedar and sage drifted to her. A flutter rushed through her as quickly as a spring storm and she leaned forward to hide her sudden nervousness.

  “This painting is one of the few decorations that remains from the time your family inhabited Walsley.”

  She turned to meet his eyes, not understanding.

  “As I said earlier, your cousin sold nearly all of the furnishings to pay his debts. When the house fell into disrepair, the roof collapsed and destroyed most of the top floor. All of the plaster and woodwork in the house has been replaced or restored to its original condition.” He took a step forward to study the painting. “Of course, as this was painted directly on the plaster, it could not be sold.”

  “I hadn’t realized. There was no way for my mother to know what ha
ppened after she left.” Her stomach lurched as if she was on a horse that had bolted. What about the journal and the tiara? “Were the contents of the library sold?”

  He raised his brows. “I did wonder how long it would take you to ask that question. The furnishings were sold, but the books were in place when I moved in. Of course, I’ve added to the collection over the years.”

  Finally, a sign that he had normal human thoughts and feelings. “Of course. I should think less of you if you had not.”

  He shot her that almost smile again. “Why, Miss Malboeuf, I didn’t think it was possible for your opinion of me to be lowered any further.”

  Catherine returned his gesture with a genuine smile. “There is always room for me to lower my opinion of someone. It is much more difficult to convince me to raise it.”

  He held out his arm again. “Shall we move on to the banqueting hall?”

  She slid her arm through his. As they worked their way toward the hall, Catherine reluctantly conceded that the convoluted nature of the house was in keeping with the duke’s personality. Normally she was able to make a decision about someone’s character within the first few minutes of meeting him, but he was difficult to interpret.

  …

  Walsley was built on a steep incline and, as such, there were a bewildering number of levels. Necessity dictated that one must move up and down staircases of varying lengths to traverse the house. Many of the stone stairs bore the imprint of centuries of footsteps. Though it gave them a well-worn appearance, and was one of the reasons Nick had purchased the estate, it made them uneven and potentially hazardous. Though Miss Malboeuf was young and had certainly demonstrated her agility, he led her carefully through the maze of stairs and corridors until they reached the banqueting hall.

  Miss Malboeuf slid her hand along one of the long tables that ran the length of each side of the hall. After walking to the center of the room, she spun around like a child enjoying a warm, sunny day outside.