Unmasking the Duke, page 16
“As I thought,” he said smoothly. “But the news will calm my mother’s suspicions.”
“Then she knew your cousin’s baby had the same name?” Vera said with interest. She regarded Kitty with slightly more awe. “Blimey. Will you really still speak to us, now you’re a nob?”
Kitty pushed her shoulder. “Don’t be so daft.”
“Good. I’m glad it’s the right news because I’ve got a more difficult confession, too.”
“You have?” Kitty said in surprise. “What?”
Vera drew in her breath and glanced up at Johnny again before returning to Kitty. “I don’t know if your uncle told you. But I think Toby might have been responsible for informing the world about the connection between you and the duke. He had too much drink in some low tavern and blabbed about it. He seemed to think he and Mr. Renwick could easily persuade you to fleece His Grace and that you’d all be rich.”
“Except me, presumably,” Johnny murmured.
Vera grinned with more than a trace of relief. “I’m glad you’re not angry, for it was all in Toby’s cup-shot mind. He’s made some sort of hero out of Mr. Renwick, or out of Mr. Renwick’s mythical past, imagines him as some sort of commander of criminals, which I doubt he ever was and certainly isn’t now. More to the point, you’ll never meet anyone more straight and honest than Kitty.”
“I know that,” Johnny said mildly, feeling Kitty’s gaze on his face.
“As for Toby, I’m sorry,” Vera said determinedly. “He’s my brother, but he’s got a big mouth, and he’s been brought up to think he can get whatever he wants, whether that’s fancy clothes and jewels and lots of money or Kitty. I told him months ago she wasn’t interested, but he never seems to take the hint.”
“I’ve more than hinted,” Kitty said frankly.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” Vera advised. “Dad has put him right and is dragging him off to apologize to your Uncle Bill, so I don’t think he’ll be making either of those mistakes again.”
Johnny, returning to his observations while the women’s conversation moved on, found he was glad of Vera’s honesty and that of the people Kitty regarded as friends and family. In between times, his mind reeled, thrilled, blissful, and anxious about what he should do next. There were many things being a duke simply didn’t help with.
Although, on the other hand, one had to use the advantages one had been given…
When it got too cold, the two young women embraced and parted with promises to meet again soon, and Johnny pushed himself off the tree to bow once more to Vera and thank her before offering his arm to Kitty and walking back toward the gate.
As the footmen fell in behind, he heard a snort of feminine laughter in the distance.
“Lord, Kitty,” Vera’s delighted voice crowed after them. “You’ve even got fart-catchers!”
Kitty gave a very strange hiccough, and he felt the tremble of laughter through her before she glanced up at him surreptitiously to see if he had heard.
“It could not have been Miss Harris,” he said gravely. “But I’ll tip them in case they overheard.”
She grinned openly. “Sorry.” Then she sobered. “You weren’t surprised about Toby, were you? You already knew.”
“Dunne had discovered something similar.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“There seemed no point. The damage was done, and whatever Toby’s idiocy, he certainly didn’t mean anyone to hurt you or your uncle.”
She accepted that, even squeezed his arm as though he had been doing her a favor. Perhaps he had been trying to. And it was certainly worth it to have his arm hugged to her breast.
“So, this Alf Smith was drinking in the tavern with Toby,” she mused. “Or just overheard him.”
Johnny shrugged. “Or even picked up the rumor later. Either way, such talk might well have reminded him of old grudges and dropped a particularly nasty means of revenge into his lap. So, he applied to his old neighbor, Jimmie Harris, who probably wouldn’t recognize him after nigh twenty years, under a false name, and got himself sent out to work at Maida.” Johnny gestured with one deprecating hand. “Possibly. Until we can lay hands on him, we won’t know for sure.”
She walked on in silence for a while, which was fine with Johnny. He liked the sense of her movement beside him, her light, familiar touch on his arm. Then she said lightly, “Since it seems I probably am your cousin now, will the duchess be happier or unhappier to see me?”
“Who knows?” Johnny said ruefully. “She is not unkind, you know. But since my father’s death, she has grown more distant, more conscious of the family dignity, which is unfortunate since of all her children, only Peter ever had much dignity about him.”
She considered. “Lord Peter is unsure, which makes him a little stiff. But even surrounded by children and bone-tired, Lady Meg has her own grace.”
He glanced at her, pleased and not a little surprised by her insight into his siblings. “True.”
“So do you,” she added.
He laughed. “My dear girl—”
“It’s natural,” she interrupted, although color seeped into her face. “You don’t look down your nose at people or strut about puffed up with your own importance. You don’t throw orders around just because you can. But when you speak, even though you never raise your voice, people listen and obey. They notice you, and they like you. But no one would ever mistake you for less than you are.”
Speechless, and not a little touched, he gazed down at her. “I’m not sure I recognize myself,” he managed at last. “But thank you. My father was the one with presence and power. I have neither the aptitude nor the interest.”
“But you do. They’re just not the same as his. You lend your name, your time, and your money to many charitable causes.”
He must have looked startled again, for she cast him a quick smile. “Lady Meg,” she said apologetically, by way of explanation. “And I know that although you don’t sit much in the House of Lords, you do vote on some issues and have even been known to rally support for it. You could, if you wished, exert more of such power toward the social causes you value.”
He regarded her, no longer quite amused but not angry either. Rather, it was as if…as if she was showing him a way forward, a way to wield his position for good in a more structured and useful way that his occasional, erratic espousal of causes that just happened to catch his attention. A purpose to his casual, hedonistic life.
Something in him leapt, though whether to embrace this notion or simply its lovely proponent, he would need time to think about.
In the meantime, he was happy to announce, over luncheon, that Kitty had been born Isabel and that therefore there was really very little doubt left that she was indeed Cousin Margaret’s daughter.
Meg and Harry, and even Aline smiled with relief and pleasure. His mother, to whom he gave most of his attention, gazed at Kitty until her eyes glazed over.
“Then there is only one thing to do,” the duchess pronounced at last.
“What?” Meg asked suspiciously.
“Teach the girl to dance,” said the duchess.
Chapter Seventeen
Although the duchess’s sally was greeted with relieved laughter, she was not joking. And there was rather more than one thing on her list. But it did mean that Kitty’s “education” suddenly became much more intensive.
Meg’s vague instruction had consisted largely of letting her observe the customs and manners of the house, how to address servants and equals, and pointing out any words or actions that were wrong in the world of the Quality.
Now, Kitty was bidden daily to the duchess, who took her speech in hand. Kitty knew that simply by being among the duke’s family, her accent had moderated and improved. Even Vera had noticed, though she had said nothing, merely cast the odd half-amused glance at her as they talked.
But this was not enough for the duchess, who had her reading aloud and corrected every tiny “mistake” by constant repetition. It was boring and infuriating, and even slightly humiliating, which, with unexpected shrewdness, Her Grace picked up on.
“I know it’s maddening, but if you wish to pass muster among our guests by Christmas, you will be much more comfortable speaking as they do.”
Kitty almost snapped back that it was the duchess who would be more comfortable, but basic honesty shut her mouth. Not just the duchess but the whole family and their guests would be more comfortable if she spoke and behaved as they did. And in truth, Kitty herself would be more comfortable if she did not embarrass herself or her hosts by speaking like the orphan of Seven Dials. Or even like the waitress from Maida Gardens, who entertained Bill Renwick’s friends with displays of card tricks and sharp practice.
“No one will be rude to you,” the duchess went on, rubbing it in. “But you’re smart enough to notice the pity or the amusement, the laughing conversations that stop as soon as you approach. Is that what you want?”
Kitty shook her head. She almost said she would rather go home to Maida, where she was loved however she spoke. But God help her, Johnny would not be at Maida but at Dearham Abbey.
Of course, there was more than speech involved in the duchess’s teaching. There were lessons in posture and manners, although the duchess allowed her curtseys to be good enough.
“At least you are intelligent and educated,” Her Grace allowed once, “although you could do with more accomplishments. A knowledge of French or Italian would help, as would some skill on the pianoforte or with watercolors. But we have no time for that now.”
The duchess regarded her so closely that Kitty began to fidget.
“What do you know of your mother?” the dowager asked abruptly.
“Very little,” Kitty confessed. “I wasn’t even two when Uncle Bill took me in, so I don’t remember her. He told me she was good and kind, but he was always vague as to who she actually was. I grew up assuming she had been his late sister, and no one disputed it.”
“She was good and kind,” the duchess said shortly. “She was the poor relation who kept my mother-in-law, the old duchess, company, but she was good and kind to me.”
Kitty’s heart beat quickened. Without reason or logic, she was suddenly desperate to absorb every scrap about her mother.
“I was not always the staid person you see before you,” the duchess murmured, so quietly that Kitty had to lean closer to hear. “I was a little wild, a little…immoderate. The old duke and duchess disapproved of me. It was Margaret who explained family matters I needed to know, and even covered up my mistakes, frequently getting me out of trouble with Her Grace. We were friends. And yet when she was in trouble, I did not help.”
Kitty drew in her breath. “His Grace told me she ran away with an unsuitable man, someone her family forbade her from marrying.”
The duchess nodded. “I think it was selfishness on their part. My mother-in-law just wanted her at her beck and call, not married with a home of her own, however modest.”
It was, Kitty reflected, just possible that her mother-in-law had been right. “Who was this man? It was not…Alfred Smith?”
The duchess blinked. “Alfred Smith?” she repeated contemptuously. “Who is Alfred Smith?”
“I think he was a thief,” Kitty offered. “And possibly a builder by trade.”
“Don’t be silly. Margaret would have had nothing to do with such a man. She would never even have met such a man. No, her husband was a respectable, middling sort of a man, a clerk of some kind. Reginald Penrose.”
“My father?” Kitty blurted.
The duchess nodded.
“What…what happened to him?”
“He died before the baby was born. I begged Their Graces to take Margaret back, but they would not. I went to see her, secretly, but she had already moved out of their little house and left no word where she had gone. I only heard from her once more, when you were born, but she never told me where she was.”
“Why not?” Kitty asked, not so much of the duchess as of the world.
“I don’t know. Pride, perhaps. Or perhaps she was still looking after me, because I would have got in trouble for helping her.” Her Grace’s gaze refocused on Kitty’s face. “Do you really know nothing about her?”
Kitty looked at her hands. “I think her life went…downhill. She died in poverty.” More, she thought, it would be unkind to tell a lady clearly remorseful for something she could not change.
“And the man who took you in,” the duchess said, rallying. “He is a good person?”
“He has always been good to us—to his stepsons and me.”
“It might be better if you don’t see him again.”
“No,” Kitty said firmly, “it would not.”
To her surprise, the duchess did not argue, merely said, “That will be all for today. You are improving.”
The more fun part of her education was the dancing. This took place in the elegant ballroom at the back of the house. The dowager duchess sat at the piano and played merry tunes that echoed in the empty space while she was taught several country dances and the quadrille. Meg, Harry, Johnny, Peter, and Aline were rounded up for these lessons, though they often were not enough to demonstrate the various dances. Chairs were set up to represent other couples in the set, and everyone danced around them, often with much hilarity.
Kitty thoroughly enjoyed these lessons and the exhilaration of dancing. Even Peter unbent, and it was all conducted with great good humor and a sense of fun.
“Then, there is the waltz,” the duchess pronounced. “Everyone waltzes these days.”
“Oh, that is the one dance I do know,” Kitty said. “At the Maida balls, there is nothing but waltzes.”
“You would be well advised to keep such knowledge to yourself,” the duchess observed. “And you had better show me.”
“Allow me,” the duke said, bowing elaborately to Kitty.
And stupidly, Kitty’s heart somersaulted. He had taken his turn partnering her in the lessons, and she had secretly treasured every touch. But the waltz was so much more intimate, and, besides, her memory flooded inconveniently with memories of their previous dances at Maida. He must have understood the blush she could not hide, for a look of wicked teasing entered his eyes and deprived her of breath.
And yet when the duchess played her introduction, and he bowed once more, he took her very sedately into his arm. His clasp on her fingers was light, his hand barely resting on her back at all. When he began to dance, it was much more formally, and so far away from her that for the first few moments, she found it harder to follow him.
“Not quite Maida, is it?” he murmured.
“I should have known.”
“It can still be fun,” he assured her, his thumb softly circling the skin of her hand. At the same time, he spun her and walked her backward and turned again, and she laughed as she followed him.
“Better,” the duchess commented. “But don’t make me give you lessons, too, Dearham.”
She only called him by his title when he displeased her in some way.
“Sorry, Mama,” he said humbly, although his grin suggested another emotion entirely.
*
The day before Meg and Harry departed for his new posting, Ludovic Dunne called to speak to Kitty and the duke.
“I’m going down to Kent next week,” he said without preamble, “and won’t be back until January. I still have people with their eyes and ears open for traces of Alf Smith, and if they find him, I shall, of course, let you know.”
“Then you’ve still found no sign of him?” the duke asked.
“We were close,” Mr. Dunne said ruefully. “We found a local so-called nurse who had treated a man with burns to his hands and body. He hadn’t paid her, so she was willing to tell me where he lived. Unfortunately, he’d gone by that time, but he was using the name Alf Smith, not Franks.”
“So he did burn himself that night!” Kitty exclaimed with a shiver.
“Managed to set fire to his own clothes,” Mr. Dunne said. “But put out the flames before they had done him too much damage. It may also be why the hotel wasn’t burned to the ground. He had to stop before he’d set all the fires he meant to. Or maybe he got a fright when the other builders and the Renwicks woke too quickly. In any case, Smith has vanished again. I’m sorry, Miss Kitty.”
“If nothing else, it’s an excuse to keep her with us for longer,” the duke said lightly. “We’re going down to Dearham Abbey at the beginning of December.”
It was a party Kitty no longer dreaded. Indeed, she looked forward to seeing the duke on his ancestral acres, and if there was a twinge of dread concerning his guests and the Christmas entertainments, it was outweighed by excitement.
*
When Dunne had left, Johnny went in search of Aline, whom he found playing with Meg’s boys in one of the salons. She was always at her best in such situations, without artifice or guile, and he knew she was missing her own son, whom she would not go near while this danger lurked over her head.
After joining in the game and falling dead with enough drama to entertain his bloodthirsty nephews, Johnny surrendered them to their nurse.
“Walk with me,” he invited Aline.
If she felt flattered by the invitation, she gave no sign of it, merely walked at his side into the garden where they both scanned the walls for signs of intruders. And he wondered how best to approach this. Aline was a woman of sophistication and a survivor, but she had already offered herself to him and been refused, and in the light of that, it was difficult to suggest her continued refuge with his family in a manner she could accept. He had no wish to hurt her or to raise expectations he would not meet.
She glanced at him, waiting with exaggerated patience.
Oh well, honesty had always served him before, though he was prepared for a slapped face.
“The man we captured,” he began, “is giving away no links to this Count Ledel we suspect of instigating the attacks against you. Or to anyone else from your country. But as you know, neither the emperor nor his ambassador in London is happy with the death of Prince Hagerin. At least the ambassador has engaged to keep Ledel in London for the next two months. Despite receiving your letter, neither of my friends in the British government will admit to me that you ever worked for them, let alone that they have a duty to protect you. But I believe they will watch Ledel and add pressure on the ambassador to keep him within reach. Which should stop him from arranging any more blatant assassination attempts but does nothing to stop those already in motion. I think it would be best if you came with us to Dearham Abbey.”
