How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (13 page)

She attempted to smile. “Right now, I can’t remember why I wanted to come to England so badly that I couldn’t wait until after the baby arrived.” Diana sat next to her and pulled Catherine into her arms.

“Do not cry, dearest. The baby and your parents are well, as are we. Nothing else is important. You shall not remain apart forever.”

Catherine sniffled. Out of nowhere, she thought of Nick and wished he was there to comfort her. The misplaced thought caused her to sit up and pull away from Diana. Nick had made it clear that he thought her below him and there was nothing she could do to change that. She would not pine after a man who did not consider her his equal.

She read more of the letter while Diana peered over her shoulder. Her eldest brother now attended a boarding school in New Orleans, and the family would stay in town until the baby was strong enough to make the voyage to Acklins. The letter contained more news of her family, but she didn’t have the heart to finish reading it yet. Who knew when she would receive another letter from home. It was to be savored.

She flopped back on the bed and glanced up at the canopy, not really seeing it. It wasn’t just that she missed her family. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like London, because she did. But somehow she hadn’t managed to accomplish anything she had set out to do. She wasn’t any closer to solving the mystery of the missing tiara, and though she might still have a chance to win the wager for Walsley Manor, she wasn’t in control of the situation. She needed to find a way to ensure her future.

Chapter Eight

The Russian Embassy overflowed with music and laughter. Flickering candlelight danced merrily from the wall sconces and chandeliers, highlighting the sumptuous interior. Chaise longues and chairs upholstered in shades of blue, gold, and black to match the imperial coat of arms were set about the perimeter of the ballroom. The signature two-headed eagle featured prominently in the decor. Catherine was surprised to discover that aside from the addition of the embassy staff, the guests were virtually identical to that at the Cortland ball.

Nick, or Nicky as Countess Lieven referred to him, seemed to be a favorite of the ambassador’s wife. She had held up the receiving line for several minutes while she conversed with him in hushed whispers. Catherine smiled and nodded at the appropriate times, but wasn’t engaged in the conversation Jane held with Lord Osterling and Lord Cavanaugh because she was too occupied by Nick’s conversation with the countess.

Catherine wondered how they had become friends when Nick was so pompous and taciturn upon first acquaintance. Granted, if her own association with him was anything to judge by, he relaxed after he got to know someone, but still.

“Catherine,” Jane whispered, “whatever do you find so fascinating about the receiving line?”

“I’m testing my memory, making sure I remember everyone I’ve been introduced to at previous events. Aside from the embassy staff, I’ve seen only a handful of people to whom I haven’t already been introduced.”

“That is to be expected. London society is not very large.” She shot a smile at Lord Cavanaugh and nodded as if she’d been listening.

It was as Catherine had suspected, but she was still disappointed, as it greatly limited her prospects to win the wager with Nick. The receiving line began to disperse, indicating the dancing would soon commence. No doubt Lord Cavanaugh would claim Jane for the first dance.

Lieutenant Galkin, an embassy employee she had just met, approached from the direction of the receiving line. “Miss Malboeuf, would you do me the honor of accepting me for the first dance?” From what she had been able to deduce, he was the ambassador’s second in command.

“I would be honored.” She placed her hand in his and he led her to the middle of the room. Countess Lieven had chosen to begin the dancing with a waltz.

“You accent is different from the English. Are you from France?” Lieutenant Galkin asked.

“That is an impressive guess. My father is French, but I live in New Orleans, which is now part of the United States.” It seemed easier to speak of New Orleans and leave off the part about the Bahamas.

He nodded. “Yes, America. I have thought of living there one day. You speak French in America?”

“We do in New Orleans because it belonged to France for many years.”

“French is the language spoken in His Imperial Highness’s court and among the nobility of our country.”

“I will bear that in mind if I am ever afforded the opportunity to visit Russia.” He swept her around to the left, and she had to focus on her steps for a moment. “Where are you from, Lieutenant?”

“I was born in St. Petersburg, where my father worked in the local government.”

“And did you serve in the Napoleonic Wars?”

He inclined his head. “I did. I joined the diplomatic core and became the ambassador’s assistant when the embassy was opened here.”

She transferred her gaze to the walls of the ballroom. “Has this building always served as an embassy?”

“I’m not aware of its history, but it has been our embassy since the ambassador arrived in 1812. Prior to that I believe it was simply the town house of some English family or other.” They turned back to the right. “If you would like to visit sometime in the afternoon, I can arrange for a tour of the premises.”

“I would like that very much, thank you.”

When the dance ended, Lieutenant Galkin led her back to Lady Hartley. He went immediately to Countess Lieven, and after a brief discourse, spoke with her secretary and discreetly pointed at Catherine. She doubted anyone else would have noticed, as she herself would not if she hadn’t just finished her dance with the lieutenant. It would seem that the countess wanted to ensure that she had dance partners for the evening, which was kind of her, but awkward for Catherine.

After her dance with the countess’s secretary, Catherine noted a passing footman out of the corner of her eye and turned to reach for a glass of lemonade. She was shocked to discover he was one of the sailor’s from her father’s ship. “Dmitri? What are you doing here?”

A muscle flicked in his jaw. “Miss Malboeuf. I didn’t expect to see you here. I now work for the embassy.”

At first, Catherine was confused by his formality, but she quickly realized that he might fear for his job if he was caught fraternizing with a guest. How odd that Dmitri had left Papa’s employ. She was certain Papa was paying the crew to wait until the cargo arrived.

He inclined his head and moved on into the crowd. As Catherine turned back to Lady Hartley, she noted that everyone in the ballroom seemed to be watching her. She would have to ask later if it was inappropriate to speak to a servant. It seemed equally wrong not to greet an acquaintance. Papa made it a practice to employ men he trusted. They weren’t treated as family, but they were always shown respect.

Jane raised her brows and clasped Catherine’s arm. Lady Hartley moved toward her, closing ranks. Murmured conversations drifted from behind them. The word pirate reached them and Lady Hartley stiffened. It appeared that Catherine had again drawn unwanted attention. Taking a deep breath, she willed her stomach to settle. Not only had she brought unwelcome attention to herself, but her blunder could be harmful to Jane as well.

Nick approached and her heart skittered, its beat more varied than an opera score. As sure as a knight in shining armor, he had come to her rescue. In this instance his stern reputation was an asset. Showing her his favor would quiet the gossips. “French speakers must be at a premium at this ball,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d have the chance to request a dance.”

She smiled. “You had only to ask.”

“That is easier said than done when you have been surrounded by Russians for much of the evening.”

“I am available now.”

He bowed formally. When she placed her hand in his, he drew her away. As they waited for the next set to start, he asked, “Have you had any luck with the journal since we last spoke?”

“I happen to have a list of all of the names in the journal with me here, in my reticule. I was wondering when we might be able meet again to discuss it.”

He scanned the ballroom. “Perhaps this evening. There is a small parlor just down the main corridor that we might be able to commandeer for a short period of time. There are enough people present that a brief absence likely won’t be noted.”

Catherine glanced at Lady Hartley, but the duke was considered beyond reproach, so no one would likely question his motives even if they were caught together outside the ballroom. Jane had told her stories about couples who were forced to marry when caught in compromising situations, and she wondered if Nick could be forced to marry her if they were to be caught alone in the parlor. That the idea wasn’t altogether unwelcome was disturbing. But likely it could not happen or he would not take the chance. He would never risk his reputation. Her reputation was the only one at risk.

“Catherine?” He studied her face, a slight frown pulling at his mouth.

“My apologies. I was woolgathering.”

“I am sorry to have bored you. Perhaps you could suggest a more entertaining subject we could converse about. The weather, perhaps?”

“Do not tease me. I’m simply wondering if it is prudent for us to retreat to a private location during the ball.”

Assuming a hurt expression, he replied, “Your lack of confidence in my ability to keep our clandestine meeting secret is disheartening.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I doubt that.”

The music began and he led her in the first steps of a waltz. “I have spent much time at the embassy and know it well. There is no need to worry.” He steered her toward the edge of the dance floor.

As he held her in his arms, she realized she was more comfortable with him than any of the other men to whom she had been introduced. When they danced, there was never a bobble or misstep. She could relax in his embrace, relishing the confident way he wheeled her about the floor. But there could be nothing between them once they deciphered the clues in the journal. Even if he decided to reconsider and marry, he would choose someone of higher status, someone titled. She might win Walsley, but she would never win him.

Following a few moments of silence, he said, “Yes, I do believe we must limit our conversations to the weather. There seems to be nothing else to discuss.”

She bit her lip. “That might be a bit too confining. Perhaps we could include food preferences as well?”

“I do occasionally enjoy a good mutton roast.”

She crinkled her nose. “Mutton has a strong flavor. My tastes lean more toward fish.”

He shook his head. “Fish has an equally strong flavor. And aroma.”

“I consider it distinctive rather than strong.”

He met her eyes and sighed. “Are we never to agree on anything?”

“It does seem as if we are fated to disagree about most everything.” She grinned. He suddenly pulled her closer to him to avoid another couple, enveloping her in warmth and the crisp scent of cedar. Closing her eyes briefly, she allowed herself to revel in the moment.

“We shall simply have to make an effort to agree more frequently. Let’s start now. You can agree that my plan is brilliant, and I will bask in your adoration.”

She tilted her head and studied his face. “Have you been drinking, Your Grace?”

“Not nearly enough.”

The set was about to end. He leaned closer and whispered, “I shall meet you in the corridor to the north of the ballroom in five minutes.”

She nodded her understanding. He led her back to Jane and Lady Hartley, then quietly exited the ballroom.

Nudging Catherine with her elbow, Jane said, “You seem to be getting on well with the Duke of Boulstridge.”

Catherine kept her attention focused on Lady Hartley, anxious for her to end her conversation with Lady Grey. “I am simply being a pest with my attempts to cajole him into selling me Walsley.”

Jane tilted her head to the side. “Is it working?”

“Not in the least.” With a scathing glance at Catherine, Lady Grey turned away. Catherine rotated toward Lady Hartley, nearly colliding with Lord Tregony.

Damn and blast. Nick would have to wait. He was her most promising prospect, and she would not pass up the opportunity to dance with him if he asked.

“Would you care to dance?” He held out his hand.

“I would be honored.” She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her toward the dance floor. She imagined the weight of Nick’s displeasure boring into her, but it was unlikely he had noted her absence yet.

If nothing else, her time in England had taught her the fine art of holding a conversation without saying anything meaningful. She wanted to spend more time with Lord Tregony, and even hoped to form an attachment with him, but knowing that Nick was off glowering somewhere made it impossible for her to enjoy their dance. Luckily the country dance they were performing kept them frequently separated so there was little chance for discussion.

As soon as the set ended, Lord Tregony bowed over her hand. If only he made her heart respond in the same excited manner it did to Nick. She said her farewell and quickly located Jane. She told her she was going to the ladies’ retiring room so she and Lady Hartley would not fret over her absence.

Thirsty from the dance, she stopped at the refreshment table on the way to her assignation with Nick.

“…was a pirate, as was the footman the countess hired.”

She caught a snippet of conversation that could only have to do with her. Glancing over her shoulder, she discovered two ladies with whom she was unfamiliar, both of whom continued to whisper as they passed by. Nick appeared from behind them.

He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “It is gratifying to see that one of us has enjoyed the last forty minutes.”

“I had no choice,” she hissed. “It would have been rude to refuse him.”

“You could have feigned fatigue.”

She was in no mood to argue with him. “Toward what end? By your own machinations, I am forced to obtain an offer of marriage by the end of the season. I cannot afford to offend anyone.”

He tilted his head and spoke softly near her ear. “I have just enough self-control left to offer you one more opportunity. I will await your arrival in the corridor.”

His warm breath caressed her neck, sending shivers down the cool skin of her back. When she finished sipping the remainder of her champagne, she placed the glass on the table and followed behind him.

…

The scent of late summer roses reached Nick just before she did. The corridor was dimly lit, but he saw her before she could catch a glimpse of him because his eyes had already adjusted to the low light. He was not accustomed to waiting for anyone. Everyone, with the exception of Catherine and his mother, showed him deference without fail. So much so that he grew tired of their simpering and blatant attempts to garner his favor. Still, Catherine’s lack of regard for his position was unsettling.

His mother would say it was refreshing.

“Are you finally prepared to attend our meeting, or must I throw you over my shoulder and carry you off?”

“As I’ve already told you, the delay could not be helped, but I hope you understand how greatly I appreciate your efforts on my behalf. I am indebted to you for your assistance in helping me decipher the journal.”

If she had been able to make her tone of voice more convincing, he might have believed her to be sincere. He rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn’t see him clearly. Clasping her elbow, he led her toward the chamber he had indicated as a meeting place. “Let us be private before we discuss any details.”

An oil lamp had been left on the table, burning low. He raised the wick and the lamp illuminated two chairs on either side of the table.