How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous)

by Ally Broadfield

  “I won’t stop asking.”

  “And I won’t stop refusing.” There were no circumstances under which he would agree to sell Walsley. “It seems we are at an impasse.”

  She put her hands on her hips. “If it is a matter of the price, you needn’t worry. I am authorized to spend any amount necessary to secure the property.”

  There didn’t seem to be any way to make the stubborn woman understand, and he would not share his personal history with her. “It is not a matter of money. This is my home and it is not for sale.”

  “But—”

  “Miss Malboeuf.” He released a huge sigh before he could prevent himself. The woman brought out the worst in him, which wasn’t surprising given her infuriating persistence. “I have already made it abundantly clear that I do not intend to sell Walsley. Not to you or anyone else.”

  As he studied her, he thought about the breeches she had worn under her gown, the arch of her unshod foot, and the cutlass she wore strapped to her thigh. A compromise of sorts began to coalesce in his mind.

  There wasn’t a chance that she would be accepted by society. It wouldn’t hurt to give her something to strive for, along with a way to keep her focused on her quest for the tiara instead of continuing to harass him about the manor.

  He shot her a smile.

  Her eyes widened. “You look like a cat who just cornered a mouse.”

  Touching his fingertips together, he asked, “How do you feel about wagers, Miss Malboeuf?”

  She studied him before responding. “I’m not opposed to them in principle, but it depends upon the circumstances.”

  “Then I have a proposition for you. If you are able to garner an offer of marriage before the end of the season, I will sell Walsley Manor to you.”

  Her face dropped and he almost felt sympathy for her. “You are that certain I will not be able to secure even one offer?”

  He looked her up and down in what he knew was an insolent manner. “I find it highly unlikely.”

  Her breath hitched and for a moment, he feared she might cry. “That is a rather disheartening opinion, Your Grace.” She glanced out the window, then fixed her gaze on him. “But I will prove you wrong. What are the terms of your wager? Must I accept the offer, or need I only receive one?”

  “I shall take pity on you. You do not have to accept the offer, but it must come from a titled member of the ton. No exceptions. And you cannot engage in any questionable activities in order to secure the offer.”

  Her brows rose. “What do you consider a questionable activity?”

  He caught and held her gaze. “You may not pay anyone to make the offer.”

  Color suffused her cheeks. “Your Grace, you go too far.”

  “I go too far? You broke into my home and have repeatedly dismissed my assertions that I will not sell Walsley. I have legitimate cause to question what you might be willing to do to achieve your goals.”

  Catherine did not waiver under his steady regard. “What are your other demands?”

  “You also may not threaten anyone with physical harm to secure an offer.”

  “Is that all?”

  “I believe so.”

  She straightened her shoulders and stood tall. “Though I do not appreciate your insinuations, I believe I can work within those requirements.”

  He glanced at her skirts and grinned. “Are you certain? Remember, I’ve seen the cutlass you have hidden under there.”

  “That is for protection, not aggression.”

  “Be that as it may, you have to admit it is a legitimate concern to me. After all, I have just risked my home.” His stomach dropped, but then he pictured his first encounter with her, barefoot after breaking into his library, and decided he was in no danger of losing.

  “Very well, I accept your wager.”

  She held out her hand and he shook it as if he had just placed a bet in the book at his club.

  Nick rang for Phillips and asked for her carriage to be brought around. He led her down the corridor, and they stopped in the parlor to fetch her maid, who was engaged in what appeared to have been a lengthy conversation with his housekeeper.

  They proceeded toward the courtyard to await her carriage. He placed his hand on Miss Malboeuf’s back to steer her away from a particularly uneven stair and the delicate bones of her shoulder blades caressed his palm. Small and fragile as she was, he could nearly span the width of her back with one hand. She shivered and he noted her lack of outerwear. The sky was dark and the wind had increased, indicating rain would arrive shortly. The temperature had dropped sharply.

  He glanced at her maid, who was more sensibly dressed in a serviceable gown and woolen cloak. “Do you have a cloak?”

  “I’m afraid I forgot to bring one. The weather was so amenable this morning.”

  “It can change in a moment.” He motioned to a footman. “My mother keeps many garments here and I’m sure she would be delighted to loan you one.”

  “I thank you for your kind offer, but that shan’t be necessary. I will be warm enough once I’m in the carriage.” She wrapped her arms tightly about her small frame.

  He took off his coat and placed it over her shoulders. “But what if you meet with a delay? It is best to be prepared for any eventuality.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  The footman arrived with a cloak just as the Malboeuf carriage rolled into the courtyard. Miss Malboeuf handed him his coat and he wrapped the cloak about her shoulders. Her maid climbed into the carriage and he grabbed her elbow to help her step up.

  He watched as the carriage rolled down the long drive, peeking in and out of his line of vision as they twisted and turned along their path. When he could no longer see the carriage, he shoved his hands into his pockets and took a stroll around the upper courtyard.

  He would be needed in town soon. The time had come to leave Walsley and move to his London residence since Parliament was set to convene and the season was about to start. It would be necessary to keep a close eye on Miss Malboeuf to make sure she upheld her end of their bargain about the journal, and also to follow her progress, or what he imagined would be her lack thereof, in garnering a proposal.

  For the first time in years, he looked forward to the season.

  Chapter Three

  Catherine settled into the carriage for the long trip back to London. Diana nodded off almost immediately, but she was much too agitated to sleep. Cay curled against her side and she ran her hand down his back.

  Her opinion of the duke was still uncertain. One moment he was a condescending curmudgeon and the next he was giving her a tour of the property and laughing with her. But it didn’t matter because she had what she wanted. The journal was safely stowed in the pocket sewn on the inside of her skirt. The duke’s demand that she share whatever information she gleaned from the journal with him was a minor nuisance. She would figure out a way to keep the journal, but for now she was content having it in her possession. Though she longed to read it immediately, the bumpy carriage was not the place for that.

  The duke had underestimated her, and she would make him regret it. How foolish of him to assume she had come to England only to retrieve the journal. She had dreamed of being here her entire life, of attending the grand balls and the theater, of reclaiming her ancestral home, and she would not let him stop her from achieving her dreams. Regardless of her actions at Walsley, her mother had taught her to be a proper lady, and she would win their wager.

  Despite her misgivings, Catherine hadn’t found it difficult to sleep through much of the return trip. On their third afternoon of travel, she woke as the carriage stopped in front of Hartley House.

  She clipped a leash to Cay’s collar and spoke to Diana. “Remember that as far as Lady Hartley is concerned, we have just arrived from the ship. She does not need to know about our sojourn into Derbyshire.” She repeated her instruction to Thomas when he opened the carriage door for them.

  As they approached the stoop, two footm
en rushed from the house and a lady in a dark blue gown with silvering hair appeared at the front door. A girl who had to be her daughter stopped next to her. Catherine straightened her shoulders and moved toward them.

  “Oh, my dear, we’re so glad you’ve finally arrived.” She pulled Catherine into a hug. “We had begun to despair of you.” She pulled away but kept ahold of Catherine’s shoulders. “I thought for a moment I had gone back in time and you were your mother. That chestnut hair and those stunning green eyes are so like hers.” She placed her hand over her heart. “How I wish she had been able to make the journey with you.”

  Catherine managed to disentangle herself and curtsied. “As do I, my lady. I am Catherine and I’m honored to meet you. Nearly every story Mama ever told me about her childhood included you.” Her heart constricted at the thought of her mother. If things had been different, both of her parents would be here with her now. The baby had likely already arrived, yet it might be months before she would be assured that Mama and the baby were in good health. It had been a difficult decision to leave her family and make the trip to England on her own, but despite the difficulties she had encountered in getting the journal and purchasing Walsley, she didn’t regret it. She was finally in the place she had dreamed of her entire life. If she decided to stay permanently, Mama and Papa had promised they would come for a lengthy visit as soon as the baby was old enough to travel.

  “I shudder to think of the stories she shared with you.” Lady Hartley glanced at the girl. “This is my daughter, Jane.”

  “How lovely to meet you, Jane.” Catherine curtsied again, but Jane only had eyes for Cay. Catherine decided right then that she liked Jane very much.

  “May I present Diana? She started out as my nanny many years ago, but now serves as my maid and companion.” Diana curtsied to each of the ladies.

  Cay pushed against her hand and wagged his tail, though he kept his bottom firmly on the ground.

  “And who might this be?” Lady Hartley asked as she knelt down to pet him.

  “This is Cay.”

  Jane knelt next to her mother. “Is he Bahamian?”

  Catherine laughed. “No, my father brought him back from France. He’s a papillon.”

  Lady Hartley straightened. “Good heavens, why are we all still standing on the stoop? Come. Let’s go inside.”

  She led the way to the parlor, which was comfortably furnished in blue and gold with overstuffed chair cushions and a chaise longue near a shelf of books.

  Catherine followed their lead and sat next to Jane on a settee, while Diana settled herself into the chair next to Lady Hartley.

  Lady Hartley leaned back in her chair. “How was your voyage? Uneventful, I hope.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Catherine removed her despised bonnet and set it on the settee next to her. “I’ve had more difficult voyages from the Bahamas to New Orleans. Our only trouble came by way of a delay in anchoring in London.” Cay jumped into her lap and she stroked him absently.

  “You must be hungry.” Lady Hartley waved at her daughter. “Do ring for tea, Jane.”

  In no time at all, a tray arrived bearing tea and an array of colorful biscuits. Catherine took a long, restorative sip of tea and chose a ginger biscuit.

  Lady Hartley dabbed her lip with a serviette. “If you’re feeling up to it, we thought we’d go on a shopping expedition tomorrow. Jane is in need of some new gloves, and we’re hoping we can help you select any accessories you might need.”

  “Yes, my lady. I’ve never participated in a proper social season, so I would greatly appreciate your guidance as to what I will need. I believe I will also need more gowns. We had a few made in New Orleans, but I doubt they compare favorably to those available here.”

  Lady Hartley clapped her hands together. “I was hoping you would say something to that effect. We would be delighted to help you with your wardrobe.”

  Catherine nodded gratefully at Lady Hartley, but her attention was focused on Jane, who seemed more interested in Cay than Catherine’s wardrobe. She placed her empty teacup on the saucer and stood. “Would you mind terribly if I retreat to my chamber? I should like to settle in and perhaps rest before dinner.”

  “Of course,” said Lady Hartley. “Jane, will you show Catherine to her chamber? I will give Diana a quick overview of how things work in our house and introduce her to the other maids.”

  Jane clasped Catherine’s hand and towed her to the door. Cay followed along behind them. The Hartley town house was much smaller than Walsley Manor, but it was brighter and more open, with higher ceilings and larger windows. Jane led her up the staircase and past several closed doors until they reached the bedchamber that had been assigned to Catherine.

  A thick carpet cushioned their footsteps. Decorated in tones of light green and yellow, the room immediately put Catherine in mind of home. A large, potted fern occupied one corner.

  Jane plopped down on the bed and ran her hand over the coverlet. “What do you think?”

  Catherine gazed around the room. “It’s lovely. And so large. I wasn’t expecting anything this grand.”

  “I imagine it’s a big change from your home in the Bahamas.”

  “Yes, it’s certainly different from the Bahamas, but our house in New Orleans is comparable.”

  Jane’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize you also had a house in New Orleans. And here I had pictured you running wild along the beach with no shoes.”

  Catherine laughed. “I’ve been known to do that, but Papa runs a large shipping business out of New Orleans, so we spend much time there. It’s not London, but it’s relatively civilized all things considered.”

  Jane walked to the window and peered down into the garden. “We’re going to the opera tomorrow. Do you have a dress?”

  Catherine glanced around and located her trunks in the corner of the room. “We had several gowns made in New Orleans, but I’m not certain they rival what is available here.” She unlatched one of the trunks and Jane helped her lift the lid.

  She dug around in the trunk, knowing that Diana would scold her, but not caring enough to stop. A glimpse of pink appeared and she pulled out one of her new gowns and attempted to shake away the wrinkles. “This is one of the new evening gowns.”

  “It’s lovely,” Jane said, running her fingers across the soft silk skirt and over the embroidery along the collar. “I think it might be fancier than some of my gowns.”

  Catherine returned her smile. “There are some wonderful French milliners in New Orleans. It is likely that I will need a few more gowns, and also the appropriate accessories to go along with them. Will you help me?”

  “Of course.” She smiled and reached for Catherine’s hands. “I am very glad to have you here with us. My brothers are all away at school, leaving me here alone. It will be lovely to have a sister, even if only temporarily.”

  “I also have only brothers. All younger and all annoying. I’ve always wished for a sister.” She squeezed Jane’s hands.

  “I shall leave to you to unpack and rest now.”

  Catherine dropped onto the bed, noting the weight of the journal against her hip. She was eager to read it and find clues to the location of Great-Grandmother’s tiara, but guilt weighed heavily on her conscience. Though he hadn’t explicitly requested it, it felt like a betrayal for her to read the journal without the duke. It had been kind of him to allow her to have it, and in truth, she appreciated having help on her quest. Even if it was from an irascible, surly duke who behaved as if he was decades older than his actual age.

  …

  With a list of needed items in hand, Catherine ventured down to the breakfast room. Lord and Lady Hartley were both present, but there was no sign of Jane yet.

  “Good morning, my dear,” said Lady Hartley. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, taking a seat between the two along the side of the table that faced the door.

  Lord Hartley lowered his paper and shot her a smile befo
re burying himself behind it again.

  “Jane should be along shortly.” Lady Hartley added some jam to her toast. “She does not prefer to wake so early, but she wouldn’t miss our shopping trip.”

  Catherine went to the sideboard where the food was laid out. The choices were very different that those at home. Though of course they ate a lot of fish, it was generally served fresh, not smoked or pickled. Catching a whiff of steak and kidney pie, she scrunched her face in distaste.

  Jane’s laugh sounded from the corridor. “I imagine it will take a bit of time for you to grow comfortable with some of our dishes.”

  “Yes, I believe I will stick to toast and tea this morning.” Just then she spotted pineapple at the end of the sideboard and added a few slices to her plate. Catherine carried her food back to the table, and Jane sat next to her a few moments later.

  “Mama, I thought we might visit the milliner today. I’d like some new ribbon to trim my pink bonnet.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll already be in the area shopping for gloves and gowns.”

  Lord Hartley peered over the newspaper, his spectacles slipping to the end of his nose. “More gowns?”

  Lady Hartley smiled. “Not for us, dear. For Catherine.” She patted him on the arm and he went back to his paper.

  “Catherine, did Jane ask if you wanted to accompany us to the opera tonight?”

  “Yes, I am most amenable. We’ve already chosen a gown as well, though I’ll need some gloves to go with it.” She picked up one of the slices of pineapple and took a bite. Having the familiar fruit made it seem more like home here, though she did wonder how they grew them in the cold dampness of London.

  She looked up and noticed all three of the Hartleys watching her. Slowly leaning back in her chair, she placed the pineapple rind back on her plate. Though she had stilled her motions, Lady Hartley had been cutting the pineapple from the rind with her knife and fork. Catherine’s face burned with heat, due in equal parts to embarrassment and anger at herself. This was her first day in London and she had already blundered. Though it was difficult to avoid mistakes when she wasn’t aware she was making them, she would strive to remember to observe others before acting.