How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (19 page)

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.

He swung his feet out the window and rolled onto his stomach to face Catherine. She placed her hands atop his. “You are the most stubborn, obstinate man I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

He raised his brows and smiled at her before reaching down and twining his right hand in the ivy and finishing his descent.

“I am much more skilled than you are at housebreaking. An elephant would be quieter,” she called after him. He chuckled softly, but granted her the last word.

Chapter Fifteen

Aside from when she slept at night, either Lady Hartley or Jane kept her within sight at all times. The scratches on her cheek had healed to the point where they were barely visible, which was fortunate as they were to go to Almack’s. She hadn’t left the house since Nick had brought her home the night of the attack, so she was pleased to have a reason to go out.

A brisk knock sounded at the door, interrupting her speculation. Lady Hartley entered. “You look lovely, my dear. The lavender silk accents your creamy skin.”

Catherine smiled, thankful that her mother’s friend had turned out to be so wonderful. By some miracle, the story of her attack had not spread through the
ton
. It had been a dark night and no one else happened to be leaving the theater at that time. Fortune had smiled upon her. For once.

“Come, sit down over here and we will see what we can do to conceal your injury.”

She dabbed Catherine’s cheek with the lotion the duchess had provided. Once it soaked into her skin, Lady Hartley proceeded to apply several layers of power over the area, then blended it with the rest of her face so the powder wasn’t noticeable.

Catherine leaned closer to the mirror. “You are a skilled artist. If I didn’t know the marks were there, I would not be able to discern them.”

“As long as you don’t cry, it should last for the duration of the ball, but I will bring the powder in my reticule just in case. We’ve made it this long without anyone finding out, and there is no point in anyone discovering our secret now.”

“Thank you.” Catherine clasped Lady Hartley’s hand. “Not just for this, but for your willingness to take me in. I know it can’t have been an easy decision, especially with Jane’s season to consider.”

“Nonsense. There was no decision to make. Despite the years and distance between us, your mother is my closest friend and I would do anything for her.”

Catherine stood and hugged Lady Hartley. “And I knew you would be just as wonderful,” she added.

Lady Hartley pulled away and wiped at her eyes. “No, no, you mustn’t cry. You’ll ruin our hard work.”

Catherine smiled and dabbed at her eyes.

…

After shrugging out of her cloak, Catherine handed it to a steward at Almack’s. Despite the break from society necessitated by her injuries, she was beginning to grow weary of all the balls and events one was required to attend in London. Society in New Orleans was more relaxed. Large balls and trips to the theater were limited, so social events frequently consisted of small dinner parties and the like. Though there were more members of the
le bon ton
in London, the company rarely changed.

Lady Hartley had assured her that admission to Almack’s was quite exclusive and one would be turned away if she did not possess a voucher. However, Catherine didn’t understand all the fuss. The assembly rooms appeared very much like the private ballrooms she had already attended, albeit a bit larger.

“Miss Malboeuf, I am so happy to have you here.” Countess Lieven hugged her. “Another grand creation from Madame Rouillard.” She took a step back and assessed Catherine’s gown. “I did not think she could top the green gown, but I was wrong. This color makes your eyes look like the mysterious depths of the ocean. Oh, to be young again.”

No sooner had the countess left than Lieutenant Galkin approached. “Good evening, Miss Malboeuf. May I claim the first dance?”

“You may.”

He pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I’m afraid I didn’t have any luck with the search you asked me to conduct. No one with the last name of Bukov has ever had an association with the embassy.”

Catherine sighed. “I feared that would be the result, but I thank you for investigating.”

“You are welcome.” He inclined his head as he guided her to the dance floor. “I personally know two men named Bukov, but I don’t think either of them could be the man you are looking for as neither has ever been to the Americas and therefore could not have worked for your father.”

“It is a common name, then?”

“There are others that are more common, to be sure, but yes, the name is common enough. It has Ukrainian origins.”

If the Bukov in the journal was Ukrainian, she was even further from finding him. The lack of progress was disheartening. She studied Lieutenant Galkin’s profile. He was unfailingly polite, but there was something reserved about him that left her feeling as if he was deliberately keeping her at a distance. She ought not to have approached him about the name. They conversed very little for the remainder of the dance. She kept an eye out for Nick, but there was no sign of him. She wasn’t certain he would attend.

After the lieutenant had taken his leave, she wandered over to the refreshment table and selected a glass of champagne. Her monthly courses had arrived since she last saw Nick, and she needed to tell him that there would be no child. She was both exhilarated and disappointed. A part of her still resented his high-handed methods of trying to force her to marry him, but there was another part of her, a rather large portion of her heart, that had welcomed the idea. Though under different circumstances to be sure. Because he loved her, and not because the burden of responsibility weighed so heavily upon him. She was certain he would feel nothing but relief that their small indiscretion would not lead to a marriage he didn’t want. Though he was undeniably attracted to her, he would never consider her his equal.

After downing two glasses of champagne, she needed to visit the retiring room. Lady Hartley and Jane were engaged in conversation with the countess, so she decided to go herself. It couldn’t be too difficult to locate. She spotted Lady Amelia as she searched.

“Miss Malboeuf, how splendid to see you. I wanted to thank you again for your assistance at the opera.” She glanced around and leaned closer, then lifted her skirt to reveal a knife strapped to the outside of her calf.

Catherine glanced around as well, but no else was paying them any heed. She squelched a giggle and grinned at Amelia, who had no idea how much her acceptance meant to Catherine.

“You were correct that it is very practical. I’ve already used the knife to cut a loose thread on one of my gowns, and I feel so much safer knowing that I can defend myself if needed.”

Catherine hesitated for a moment, remembering how Papa had lectured her about needing to be trained to use a weapon properly; otherwise it could easily become an asset for an attacker. “Have you received instruction on how to use it for defense?”

“Oh yes, Miss Malboeuf. I don’t pretend to be as adept as you are reported to be, but after the incident with my hair at the opera, my brother took it upon himself to provide me with a knife and teach me some basic moves to defend myself.”

“I am glad.” Catherine took her hand before moving off to the retiring room.

This early in the evening, the chamber was unoccupied. A large mirror sat between two windows and she checked her appearance. She would rather be at home reading than attending this ball. It seemed she had already met all of the eligible men in London and there were few prospects for her. Winning the wager to gain Walsley seemed more out of reach than ever, and she was no longer certain that her claim to the estate trumped Nick’s.

Though she had always planned to one day solve the mystery of Great-Grandmother’s tiara, with her father’s urging, purchasing Walsley Manor for Mama had been what compelled her to make the long trip to England without her parents. That, and fulfilling her dream to find a suitable husband. No one in New Orleans had fit the bill, but then again, it appeared that no one here did either. She had failed on all counts. After tucking a few strands of hair back into her coiffure, she decided to head back to the ballroom.

Something scraped against the door, but no one entered. Goose flesh rose on the back of her neck and she froze. Shuffling sounds floated under the door, but still no one appeared. She reached for her cutlass, only to remember that she did not have it because it ruined the lines of her gown. And because Lady Hartley would be scandalized if she found out about it. Her knife, at least, was strapped to her calf if she needed it.

The outer door began to open and Catherine ran into the lavatory and locked the door. Footsteps much too heavy to be clad in dance slippers sounded outside the lavatory door. The handle jiggled, and she drew her knife. Sweat beaded on her forehead. The door thumped against the jamb as if someone was trying to force it open. Suddenly, the thumping stopped as the outer door squeaked open.

A latch clicked and a window slid open. Catherine fumbled with the lock and yanked the door open. She rushed to the window in time to see a shadowed figure slipping through the darkness.

“Did someone just jump out the window?” Amelia asked.

Catherine turned to find her stopped halfway across the threshold. “It sounded like it. I was in the lavatory so I didn’t see.”

Amelia leaned to look out the window. “I don’t see anyone. Was there someone in here with you?”

Catherine shook her head. “No. Whoever it was entered and left before I exited the lavatory.”

“How odd. Who do you suppose it was?”

“Someone trying to avoid being caught doing a dark deed, I imagine.” A high-pitched laugh escaped her mouth and she clamped her lips together.

Amelia glanced at her. “I guess it’s just as well that we are both carrying knives.”

After it had been stolen at the embassy, she had given up on carrying a reticule. The journal was secure in her pocket, and her knife was close by. She would not play the role of victim again.

The light of the ballroom was bright in comparison to the retiring room. She allowed her eyes to adjust before crossing the room to join Jane and Lady Hartley.

A hand clamped around her arm and brought her up short. “Miss Malboeuf. We finally meet.”

The stench of alcohol enveloped her and she pulled against Lord Ardmore’s grip. She glanced around for a familiar face. “Excuse me, my lord, but we have not been properly introduced.”

He towed her toward the refreshment table, which he had clearly visited too many times. Catherine took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. They were in a public assembly room. She simply had to endure his attention until she could get away from him. Surely Jane or Lady Hartley would note her situation and come to her aid.

He let go of her arm and thrust a glass of champagne into her hand. “I have been waiting for the opportunity to speak with you about your father, the pirate.”

His voice was quite loud and several people nearby turned toward them. She took a step back. “I am afraid you have been misinformed, my lord. My father is not a pirate, but the owner of a large shipping corporation.”

“That is not what I have heard.” He moved toward her and she took another step, silently cursing when she felt the wall at her back. He placed his hand on the wall behind her and leaned closer, blocking her view of the room. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and she fought down panic. She wasn’t trapped, not really. She could push past him if necessary.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but that is the truth,” she responded, attempting to slide along the wall to the left. Though it didn’t seem possible, he moved even closer. She couldn’t remember her rebuttal. She had to get away from him or she would faint.

“I heard that he kidnapped your mother and forced her to marry him. And that his shipping business is a farce used to cover the illegal activities he regularly engages in. His wealth is legendary, hence my interest in you.”

She drew in short, quick breaths and closed her eyes, unable to focus on his words. A rush of air passed over her. She opened her eyes to discover Nick dragging Lord Ardmore toward the door.

Jane put her arm around Catherine. “Are you well?” She took out her handkerchief and wiped Catherine’s brow.

“I…I think so. He trapped me against the wall, and I couldn’t think.”

Lady Hartley patted her arm. “You are safe. His Grace has escorted Lord Ardmore to his carriage.”

Catherine nodded as Countess Lieven approached, a thunderous expression dominating her face. “You need not worry about him again. He will not be receiving vouchers in the future.”

Catherine had thought the strange occurrence in the retiring room had something to do with the journal, but perhaps it had been Lord Ardmore. She wasn’t sure which possibility was more disconcerting.

Lord Cavanaugh arrived to claim Jane for the next dance, and Nick appeared moments later.

“Miss Malboeuf.” Nick bowed.

Her stomach fluttered. “Good evening, Your Grace.”

“Are you available for the next set?”

“Yes, Your Grace.” Her heart ached at their stiff formality, but it would not do to discuss the odious man further.

Nick drew her into the middle of the room with the other dancers.

They moved about the room in silence for several moments. She met his eyes. “Thank you.” He nodded curtly but did not respond. A muscle in his cheek flexed, the only outward sign of his disquiet.

She needed to tell him that there was no longer a reason for him to marry her, but she could not simply blurt it out.

After a time he said, “I hadn’t planned to attend tonight, but I wanted to speak with you about the results of my investigation. I have exhausted all of my resources and have been unable to uncover any information about our mysterious Alex.”

Catherine sighed. So much had occurred in so short a time that she had nearly forgotten about her scare in the retiring room, but she decided there was no point in telling him about it. “Then why is there someone here who knows about the journal and seemingly the tiara as well?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She bit her lip, but forced herself to continue. “I have some news as well. There is…that is, I am not with child.” The last part came out as a whisper. She cleared her throat and spoke more forcefully. “You are free of any obligation to me.” He nodded once, his face unreadable. Despite the protestations of her duplicitous heart, she knew, had always known, that for a myriad of reasons, he was not the right man for her.