That got his attention. “I have no…do stop behaving as a candidate for Bedlam. Surely you understand there could be a child.” He clasped her upper arms in a viselike grip. “We must marry immediately.”
Rage, white-hot and scalding, surged through her. Catherine lifted her chin and met his eyes. “So I am not to have a say in the matter? I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. And a child if it comes to that. You are not my keeper, and I am not your…your responsibility.”
His face took on a hue and temperature that could only be associated with a raging fire. “You became my responsibility following my actions last night, and I will fulfill my duty.”
She shook off his hands and pointed a finger in his face. “To the devil with your sense of duty. How dare you insult my intelligence and question my integrity. I will not allow you to martyr yourself over a misplaced sense of guilt.” She fisted her hand and thumped his chest. “If and when I marry, it will be for love, not out of fear or regret.”
He clenched his jaw and asked, “You are refusing me, then?”
“How can I refuse you when you haven’t asked?”
“You are making this fuss because I did not issue a proper proposal? Very well.” He began to kneel and she grasped a fistful of his hair and yanked him back to a standing position.
He yelped and rubbed his head. “Even you cannot deny that your background and family connections are less than desirable, yet I am still willing to do the honorable thing and marry you. I do not understand your animosity.”
Catherine’s heart clenched and stuttered into an uneven rhythm. “How magnanimous of you. And yet I remain unmoved. Your arrogance and certainty of your superiority are unbecoming.”
He straightened and all emotion dropped from his face. “I have endured countless insults from you over the course of our acquaintance, but I will not stand here while you disparage me further.”
A single tear slid from her eye and she regretted it instantly, but the flash of his eyes indicated he had already seen it. She would not show weakness by wiping it away. “Perhaps now you understand how your words affect me.”
His eyes widened, but he made no response.
Unable to maintain her anger in the face of devastation, she turned away from him. “I no longer wish to be in your presence. I have had enough of your priggishness for one day.”
“The feeling is mutual. But don’t think for a moment that this conversation is over. I find I must leave now. I cannot trust myself not to do you bodily harm.” He stormed to the edge of the garden and scaled the fence in one swift movement, no doubt propelled by his self-righteous anger.
Jane’s arm slid across Catherine’s shoulders, and she led her to a bench deeper into the garden, facing the fountain.
“What on earth was that about?” Jane asked, handing her a handkerchief.
“I…we…” The tears began to flow freely and Catherine surrendered to the torrent. Jane held her close and rubbed her back. A few moments later, her sobs slowed to sniffles.
She glanced at Jane and attempted to smile through her sniffles. Though Jane was undoubtedly curious about what had gone on between Catherine and Nick, she was too polite to ask again. Catherine’s feelings were still too raw and painful to share, even with Jane.
She had been aware from the start that Nick was not for her, so his high-handed tactics simply confirmed what she had already known. He didn’t love her. If he did, he would have fought harder to convince her. His desire to marry her was due solely to a misplaced sense of duty and had nothing to do with him having feelings for her. Though Nick had left her devastated, she would never let him know.
Chapter Fourteen
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but Miss Malboeuf is not at home.”
He took a step toward the butler, whose eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “What do you mean she is not at home? It is much too early for her to be out.” And surely even she knew better than to leave the house when the visible signs of her attack were still evident. “You must be mistaken.” In his vehemence, he felt a moment of remorse when the butler discreetly wiped his face.
Nick turned and paced back into the parlor. How dare she question his honor. He, who had never intended to marry. He, who was bound by honor to marry her. He, who might have unwittingly created a child who would inherit his father’s propensity for cruelty. He took a deep breath and checked his anger so as to not take it out on the butler. He would save it all for Catherine. “Please tell Miss Malboeuf that I await her presence in the parlor. I will wait all day if necessary.”
“Your Grace, Miss—”
“There is no need to continue with this farce. I know that she is here, and I will not leave until she grants me audience.”
“Very well, Your Grace. I shall convey your message to Miss Malboeuf’s maid.” He bowed and marched down the corridor, no doubt eager to be relieved of Nick’s presence.
Nick resumed pacing about the room. How dare she pretend not to be at home. It was…it was exactly what he had done to her at Walsley. He stopped. She was the most stubborn, pigheaded… If she thought she could keep him at bay with a flimsy excuse like that, she was in for a rude awakening.
The room had brightened considerably since his arrival. He moved to a window facing the street. Though it was still much too early for callers, people who had a purpose, a reason to be out at this time of day, bustled about.
A sigh alerted him to the return of the butler. He turned. Though the butler showed no expression, Nick could see in his eyes his reluctance to turn him away. Again. He held up his hand. “You needn’t repeat yourself.”
He followed the butler to the foyer. If Catherine would not come to him, then he would go to her.
He exited through the front door and strolled down the pathway, appearing to anyone watching as if he was leaving. But when he reached the edge of the property, he glanced around quickly and slid behind the bushes lining the house. He continued on his path to the back of the house, not caring that his coat was covered with plant debris and he likely appeared to be a housebreaker.
He looked up at the windows to make sure he had the correct chamber. She had once mentioned its location at the back of the house, and was therefore easier to slip into unobserved. He intended to test her theory.
“Your Grace!”
He halted abruptly and turned to Lady Hartley. “Good morning, my lady.” He tipped his hat, refusing to acknowledge that anything unusual had occurred. There were some advantages to being a duke.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” She tilted her head and studied him while the gardener trailing behind her cast his eyes toward the horizon. “May I be of assistance?”
What had he been thinking? He hadn’t been thinking at all. That was the problem. Catherine drove him to distraction.
“My apologies for trespassing. I noted your fine borders yesterday while visiting Miss Malboeuf. We are updating the gardens at Kenworth Hall and I wished to take a closer look.” He shot her his most becoming smile, the one that had caused many a hopeful momma to giggle and blush. “I hadn’t expected anyone to be about this early.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Neither had I.” She turned to the gardener. “Simmons, would you please assist His Grace with his explorations of our borders? I will await you in the topiary garden.” She looked Nick up and down and nodded. “Good day, Your Grace.”
He watched until she moved out of his line of vision behind the house. She had helped him see reason, and for that he was grateful. He couldn’t very well break into Catherine’s chamber in broad daylight. No, he would have to wait until it was dark.
…
This was quite possibly the most foolish thing Nick had ever attempted, but Catherine had left him no choice. If she would not give him audience, then his only recourse was to go to her. However, it wasn’t immediately apparent how to ascend to her chamber.
He yanked on an iron trellis teeming with roses, testing its strength. It seemed sound, although it e
nded about six feet below her window. If he managed to make it that far, he would figure out how to reach the sill. After planting his right foot on a cross piece, he grasped a bar and hoisted himself up. Much of his weight shifted to his hand and a thorn penetrated his gloved palm. Bugger! He continued on, sustaining several punctures while ascending a mere five or six feet. This was not working the way he had imaged it would.
Several murmured oaths bolstered him to reach the top of the trellis. Even if he were able to balance on the top of the trellis, he would have to stretch to grasp the windowsill. About four feet to the left, ivy covered the wall. It continued alongside the window through which he planned to enter Catherine’s chamber. He sidled as far to the left as the trellis would allow and grabbed for the ivy, which was just out of reach. Though he had no desire to backtrack, it might be easier to climb down and scale the ivy from the ground. Though it couldn’t be as sturdy as the trellis. Bollocks.
He’d wasted enough time already. Nick positioned his feet together on the trellis, and pushed off toward the ivy. He plunged his hands deep into the vines, scraping them across the rough surface of the bricks even through his gloves. The sting of pain was eclipsed by the triumph of reaching his goal. The ivy was stronger than he had anticipated, and he soon reached the window. Never mind that it clearly would have been faster, not to mention less painful, to climb the ivy from the ground. He would pretend that wasn’t true.
He wound his feet into the ivy and reached for the sill with his right hand. Tilted precariously to the side, he prayed that the window was unlatched, though Catherine would certainly hear from him if she were foolish enough to have left it unlatched after the attack. Fortunately, the window was open. After sliding it up far enough to fit through the opening, he launched himself toward the window. He wrapped both hands around the inside of the sill while his feet dangled below him as he fought to find purchase against the brick. He was just about there when a large, heavy object smashed his fingers.
“Bugger me!” His right hand slipped.
“Nick?”
“Good God, woman! Are you trying to kill me?” He sucked in a breath. “I know you’re angry, but you might at least do me the courtesy of hearing me out before you do away with me.”
Her startled face appeared before him. “I thought you were a housebreaker. I was about to bash you over the head.” Indeed, she clutched a cumbersome silver candlestick.
Nick managed to wrap his throbbing fingers back over the sill and pulled himself up so he was balanced on his stomach. “If you’re not still planning to kill me, would you mind stepping aside so I can come in?”
She took a step back, but he noted that she did not offer any assistance. He slid through the window and landed in an undignified pile on the floor.
“Was there something you wished to say to me, or should I threaten to summon the magistrate to throw you out?”
He stood and straightened his coat. She clearly was not planning to make this easy for him. “We have much to discuss.”
“I disagree. Unless you are here to discuss the journal and the attack outside the theater, I have nothing to say to you.” She turned and walked to her bed to fetch the journal.
He came up behind her and clasped her hand. He chose his words carefully. “We cannot ignore the fact that we have created a situation that could have repercussions for both of us.”
He took it as a good sign that she did not immediately jerk away.
“I find it ironic that regardless of whom is performing the housebreaking, I am the only one whose reputation can be ruined by it. Did you consider that before you came barreling through my window?”
He raised his eyebrows but did not respond, sensing that she had more to say.
“Regardless of the eventual outcome, the repercussions for you are negligible. Why do you insist on pressing your suit?”
He ran the pad of his thumb over the top of her hand, which trembled ever so slightly. Her eyes were shadowed and her skin pale, an indication that she wasn’t as comfortable with her decision as she wanted him to think.
“Catherine.” He placed his other hand under her chin and lifted until her eyes met his. “We are both responsible for our current situation. We may be inextricably linked, and I will not walk away from you.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then once again met his eyes. “Shall we call truce for now? It is early yet and we will know soon enough whether there are…whether I am with child.”
Her words grazed his heart, and he found that the idea of a child wasn’t entirely unwelcome. The realization was more terrifying than anything he had heretofore experienced. He cleared his throat. “Very well, I shall honor your wishes.”
She smiled as if a great weight had been removed from her shoulders. “In that case, there is a passage I’ve found in the journal that I’d like to share with you.”
He didn’t care a fig about the blasted journal. How could that be the foremost thing on her mind when he was attempting to discuss their future? They were in her bedchamber, for heaven’s sake. This certainly was not the proper time or place. He glanced around. “Should we be concerned that I shall be found in your chamber? Where are Diana and that little beast you call a dog?”
“I asked not to be disturbed, so I expect no one will bother me until morning unless I ring.”
She leaned against the bed and began turning the pages of the journal. He moved beside her, noting the irony that if they were caught like this, it would be no less damaging than what had transpired between them after her attack.
“Right here. More of the riddle. ‘Your beauty is eternal, but may remain unknown.’ What do you think that means?”
Barely refraining from rolling his eyes, he said, “That her paramour thought she was beautiful but didn’t love her?”
Catherine bit her lip. “That would be rather disappointing. But I don’t think it refers to her. It’s about the tiara.”
He drew his brows together. “Perhaps she is simply expressing her doubt that the tiara will ever be found.”
“That, too, would be rather disappointing. Surely she meant for it to be found, just not by her husband.” She flipped to the next page and began reading. “‘Our lust sated, his love surrounded me and my heart beat only for him.’ Ha. I was right. He did love her.”
It seemed the other way around to him, but he refrained from commenting. The woman did have a flair for the dramatic.
“‘He kissed his way down my neck. Liquid heat polled between my legs, and when his hand slid up between my legs and touched my—’” She cleared her throat loudly. Perspiration glistened on her forehead.
The low tone of her voice had made her words all the more tantalizing, and he shifted slightly away from her lest he be tempted. Yet, her pained expression was almost comical. He bit his lip, hard, to keep from laughing. Despite her confrontational nature, she was rather innocent and naive, which was not unwelcome. In fact, it was rather endearing.
When she wasn’t arguing with him.
He shook his head to stop his random thoughts. “What were we talking about again?”
She drew her bottom lip into her mouth and pinned him with a sultry stare that set his nerves afire. “I don’t recall. What we need is to determine once and for all who gave her the tiara. I haven’t had any luck with my investigations.”
“I think it is time for me to utilize my connections. Someone else knows about the journal, and likely the tiara as well, and I will not stand idle while you are a target.”
A knock sounded on the door, immediately followed by a bark. Catherine popped up and waved him toward her dressing room. Moving with haste, he entered and shut the door. The lilting cadence of her maid’s voice carried to him, but he couldn’t discern her words. Snorts moved across the bottom of the door. Catherine’s infernal dog had discovered him.
“Thank you, but I think I will go to bed early tonight,” Catherine said.
Footsteps approached and he felt
about in the dark room for a hiding place of some sort. “Why is your window open? I know you enjoy fresh air, but we agreed that, after your attack, it is not safe.”
The window thumped against the sill and the latch clicked. “Let me help you change into your night rail.”
The knob turned and the door began to open. Nick crept back against the wall, hoping he would be hidden as it opened. Darkness prevailed and he had no way to discern a better hiding place.
“Diana, I am perfectly capable of changing my own clothing. Go enjoy a night off.” Catherine must have caught the door because it opened no farther.
“At least let me help you with your stays.”
Silence reigned as Diana presumably unfastened Catherine’s gown and loosened her laces. He couldn’t help but imagine doing it himself, the images of Catherine in his parlor still fresh and clear in his mind. Her satiny skin brushing against his fingers, the perfume of roses in her hair, her hushed sigh as he unlaced her stays. He wanted nothing more than to sprinkle kisses down her spine and—
The door flew open, and he jumped aside, narrowly avoiding being struck.
“She is gone,” Catherine said, just as her dog barreled into his stomach. He caught the beast and returned his exuberant welcome with an ear rub.
Catherine pressed a hand against the top of her gown, the only thing preventing it from gaping open and giving him a glimpse of things he should not be craving.
His stomach tightened and he cleared his throat. “I should be leaving.”
“You must wait a few moments until I can go out and check the back stairs. If you’ll step out, I will change into my night rail.”
He closed his eyes briefly, but that only clarified the image coalescing in his mind. “No, I will leave the way I came.” He strode to the window and opened it.
She grasped his hand. “It is not safe for you to go back that way. Come, you can use the servant’s staircase.” She tugged on his hand.
He peered down toward the ground. If he lowered himself from the window, he should be able to entwine his feet in the ivy. He preferred risking a fall to being caught leaving Catherine’s bedchamber. The scandal would be too much for either of them to bear.
How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) Page 17