Unmasking the Duke, page 20
Johnny threaded his fingers through hers as they sang, and Kitty wondered if one really could explode from happiness.
*
To Kitty’s surprise, the duchess herself came to inspect her toilette as she prepared for the Christmas day ball. By the time Her Grace arrived, Kitty’s hair had been dressed in a soft, simple style threaded with Martha’s pearls, and her new ball gown was being thrown over her head.
Catching sight of the duchess, Kitty immediately and somewhat nervously curtseyed. The duchess looked her up and down and, even before the gown was laced up, nodded once. “You will do.”
“Of course she will,” Martha said stoutly. “She and Meg chose the gown in London.”
“Then I am pleasantly surprised by Meg’s improved taste.”
“You always mistook disinterest for lack of taste,” Martha observed. “But this delightful chestnut red is definitely Kitty’s color.” She grinned at Kitty. “Johnny will be fighting for his dances.”
“Jewelry?” the duchess inquired. “You need something here.” She ran her fingers across her own skin, from clavicle to clavicle.
Kitty picked up her favorite of the two necklaces she owned. The duchess, Martha, and the maid all exchanged glances.
“It will match Lady Martha’s pearls in my hair,” Kitty said defiantly.
“The pearls will do nicely in your hair,” the duchess allowed. “For that gown, though, you need…emeralds. Martha, bring me—”
A knock at the door interrupted her, and she scowled as the maid opened it to reveal the duke with a posy of Christmas roses in one hand and a flat leather box in the other.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Her Grace, scandalized.
“Bringing these poor offerings to Cousin Kitty, in honor of her first ball,” the duke said, seeking and finding Kitty’s startled gaze through the throng. “And considering how well chaperoned she is, I really don’t think it’s too outrageous of me to present them myself.”
Kitty, blushing furiously, accepted the posy with shy thanks and a smile she could not prevent. “This, too?” she asked in surprise as he continued to hold out the leather box.
“Yes,” he said with a faint quirk of his lips. “If you like them.”
Kitty opened the box and found, nestled among the velvet lining, a gold necklace of seven dazzling emeralds. Her eyes widened. Speechless, she stared at the necklace and finally managed to say hoarsely, “For me?”
“You know, she really is too sweet for you, Johnny,” Martha observed. “You will have to let her go.”
“Yes to you, Kitty, and no to you, Martha,” Johnny said wryly.
“But they’re…beautiful,” Kitty said in awe.
While Johnny’s eyes laughed appreciatively, making her blush even harder, the duchess said tartly, “Well, he would hardly give his betrothed something ugly, would he? In fact, they’re just the thing.” She reached for the necklace still clutched reverently in Kitty’s hands, but Johnny was quicker, lifting it, and clasping it about Kitty’s throat, where it lay, gleaming against her skin.
Everyone gazed at Kitty in the glass. She touched one of the stones, then impulsively turned and seized Johnny’s hand and, in front of his mother and sister, kissed his knuckles.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Go away, Johnny,” Martha ordered. “You’re making her cry.”
Still, he lingered a moment longer, a faint frown tugging at his brow as he gazed down at her. “You are…content?” he asked.
“Oh, more than content,” she said fervently. “I’ve never been so happy in my life.”
The smile came back to his eyes before he closed one lid very briefly and sauntered out of the room.
*
Several guests had already arrived at the house from some distance, for the Dearham Christmas ball was the most sought-after event in the county. These guests would stay overnight, while those who lived nearer by would go home. At least the snow was thawing, and none of the roads were impassable.
As her first “genteel” ball, it had loomed large in Kitty’s list of fears because she was so afraid of breaking one of the many rules of polite society. However, she quickly realized it was merely a better-behaved version of the masked balls at Maida Gardens. The surroundings were grander, but the musicians were not as good, although there was greater variety of dances, and the wine was of much better quality.
In the beginning, she stayed close to Martha and was introduced as “my cousin, Miss Rennie.” She was asked to dance at once by a young man whose name she had already forgotten and was so delighted to remember the steps that she relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed herself. It helped that with every step, she was aware of Johnny’s gift lying across her chest, and his posy tied to her wrist.
Next, she danced with Lord Staunton and the vicar’s son, and, at last, the orchestra introduced a waltz.
Kitty stood bemused as she was besieged by invitations to dance. She could not remember who had asked first and suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. Was she about to make one of those ridiculous social mistakes that would cast her forever beyond the pale?
And then the duke was there, carelessly handsome in his evening finery and yet somehow more distinguished than all the other men put together. Her little court objected with good-natured raillery as he walked straight toward Kitty.
“Oh, the devil, he’s pulling rank,” someone said.
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Fish.”
“Flee with me now, Miss Kitty.”
Although it was noticeable that they also got out of his way.
“Shame on you, gentlemen,” Johnny said, his voice amiable enough, though there was a glint of unexpected irritation in his eyes that was almost steely. “Let the poor lady breathe. Kitty?”
He offered his arm, and Kitty gratefully laid her hand on it. She remembered to smile apologetically at her now slightly shame-faced court.
“Thank goodness,” she said to the duke with relief. “I was terrified of choosing the wrong one, but they all looked the same.”
“Well, they should know better than to crowd you like a pack of dogs. I’m sorry. I would rather have been with you, but I had to do the pretty with our guests.” He took her into his arms and smiled as he spun her around. “I’ve been looking forward to this all evening.”
“Oh, so have I,” she confessed fervently.
His eyes heated, although he asked, “Have you not been enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” she said blithely. “Everyone has been so kind—and interesting. Do you know the vicar’s son does not wish to follow in his father’s footsteps but become a physician instead? He wishes to study at Edinburgh, but his father is set on Cambridge and then the church.”
“No, I didn’t know that,” the duke confessed.
“I think he should be allowed to follow his own wishes, don’t you?”
“Yes.” His eyes gleamed. “Very well, I will give the vicar the best of my unwanted advice, but it really isn’t my place to interfere.”
She knew an urge to lean closer and rest her cheek on his chest. Hastily, she cast a glance around, almost afraid her scandalous impulse had been somehow seen by the arbiters of propriety in the ballroom.
She made a different discovery instead and turned her attention back to her partner. “Lots of people are watching us!”
“I know,” Johnny said gravely.
“Because you are the duke?”
“Because word has clearly got around about our engagement. They want to see how we are with each other, if it is a love match or if I’ve snapped you up for some other reason, such as a massive dowry.”
Kitty laughed. “Why would they even imagine I have a dowry?”
“Mystery. No one knows what happened to Cousin Margaret because no one talked about it. She could have married a nabob.”
She thought for a moment. “Is that why these men all wanted to dance with me?”
Johnny hesitated, perhaps not wanting to hurt her, so she scowled, for there had to be truth between them.
“Perhaps one or two of them,” he said steadily. “In every society, there are people who will use you to get what they want. And there are others who are intrigued by looks, talk, curiosity, and fashion. And those happy to take advantage of a young lady’s innocence.”
“And ignorance,” she added ruefully.
“That, too. I imagine you were swamped by the entire gamut. But if it’s any consolation, they are also accusing me of using my position to take advantage of your innocence and wealth.”
“It’s no consolation at all!” she said indignantly.
He smiled so warmly her heart turned over. “Sweetheart, we both have real friends, too.”
She tightened her grip on his fingers. “That’s what you’ve put up with all your life, isn’t it? People pretending to be your friend because of the dukedom.”
For the first time, she realized the magnitude of the Dearham miracle, that he had emerged the warm, kind, fun-loving person he was. He may not have been quite so guileless and open as the face he showed the world, but somehow, he had retained his essence. Even his reputation as a rake was understandable. He had taken love where he had found it and understood whatever form it had taken. And he remained unswervingly loyal to those who were true from childhood friends on the estate to Aline.
“I do love you,” she whispered.
His brow twitched. A flicker of uncertainty, almost fear, flashed in his eyes and vanished. “A moment alone,” he murmured and swished her suddenly through the curtain and out of the French door onto the terrace beyond.
The door had been opened earlier in the evening to allow the flow of fresh air into the ballroom, but the terrace was not lit, the weather being much too cold to entice any but the hardiest souls outside.
In the darkness, he took her face in his hands. “You take me as I am. And yet, with you, I want to be so much more than a frippery fellow.”
“You are.”
He kissed her, perhaps to stop her talking, perhaps just because he wanted to. Either was fine with Kitty, who immediately slipped her arms around him and yielded her mouth with pleasure.
The kiss was long and sweet. And when it ended, he drew her close into his body and began another. He filled her senses until she was lost in the taste of him, the masculine scent of him mingling with the outdoor smells of earth and pine and a hint of frost.
And, closer, an alarming odor of stale onion, beer, and tobacco.
With a gasp, she threw herself against him, shoving him closer to the house, just as something whipped through the air exactly where they had been. The faint light filtering through the curtain crack glinted on steel and on the unkempt, brutal face of a man she was sure she had seen before.
She had definitely smelled him before, too. In the darkness of the half-built hotel, an instant before she had been knocked senseless to the ground.
“It’s him!” she got out as Johnny thrust her behind him. “It’s Alf Smith.”
The man lashed out again with his blade as Johnny lunged at him. Johnny swayed back enough to dodge the knife—at least Kitty thought he did—but at the same time grabbed the man’s wrist and hauled. Smith threw his whole body against Johnny, enough to upset his balance, and pulled free. Clearly giving up, he bolted, vaulting over the terrace wall.
“Go back inside,” Johnny commanded, already running after him. “Tell Peter and Robert Staunton.”
Her every instinct was to follow him, to keep him safe, but God knew she could not. With a sound like a sob echoing her terror, she flew back inside the ballroom, blinking in the sudden brightness.
“Kitty?” It was Peter, mercifully, with a group of other young men. “Is everything…?”
She seized his arm, tugging him away from his friends. “Johnny’s gone after the man who attacked me at Maida, and he’s got a knife,” she said urgently, if not entirely coherently. “You have to help him!”
“Which way did he go?” Peter reached up and snatched a candle from the sconce above his head.
“Straight across the lawn toward the wood.”
“Tell Staunton and Calvert. But Kitty?” She stared at him, and a crooked smile twisted his lips. “Be discreet. It’s family business.”
Somewhere among the tangle of guilt—Alf Smith was here because of her—and fear, she felt a steadying buzz of warmth, because to Peter, she was family. It gave her the strength to walk, not run, toward Lord Staunton, who was making conversation with two dowagers. Through the curtains, she noticed a flaring, fast-moving light, as though Peter had lit a torch from his filched candle and was moving after his brother apace.
Chapter Twenty-One
Johnny had no light, and the idea of blundering about in almost total darkness, even on his own familiar terrain, in pursuit of an aggressive villain with a knife, was not appealing. But before he had more than thought of swerving around to the stables for lanterns and support, he saw a glinting light from the wood suddenly appear and wobble wildly.
The man, clearly, had left a covered lantern at the edge of the wood for his escape. Which meant that Johnny could see him, but he wouldn’t necessarily see Johnny until it was too late. A risky strategy, but he was damned if he would lose the murderous scoundrel at this stage.
And then, just as he entered the wood, he was surrounded by other lights and four threatening males. All of whom, fortunately, recognized him before they could knock him to the ground.
“Your Grace! We thought you were an intruder!”
“He’s in there,” Johnny said grimly. “The question is, how did he get this close?”
“We don’t know,” came the miserable reply. “But we just found he’s been sleeping in the home hayloft for at least a couple of nights.”
Johnny let that one go for later. Snow, it seemed, made idiots of everyone. “Go back and get everyone. I want the home woods surrounded—and then move in. Lord Peter and Lord Staunton and possibly some others will help.” He was already moving away from them, following the faint, bobbing light.
His quarry was no countryman. Johnny could hear him blundering in the undergrowth, cursing and tripping, even with his lantern to light the way. Inevitably, Johnny did his share of bumping into tree branches and tripping over roots, but he had no idea if Smith heard him or if the man even knew where he was going. Perhaps he intended to stay out here all night. Johnny wouldn’t weep for the bastard if he froze to death, as he well might since the partial thaw was icing up again in the night. But he really wanted answers.
And then, just when Johnny was drawing closer to his quarry, the much more flaring light of a torch waved straight ahead. Peter? Or Smith’s allies? It was too soon, surely to be the servants en masse…
At any rate, Smith saw it, too, for he stopped dead in his tracks, the light swinging in front of him and revealing his indecision. Johnny stepped into the cover of an old oak tree and waited. Smith swung around, that long, wicked blade still clutched before him. As the man peered in all directions, Johnny made one of his own impulsive decisions, grasped the branch above his head, and swung himself up into the tree.
Unfortunately, negotiating the slippery surfaces took him longer than usual, and Smith blundered past him, back the way he had come, before he was in position. Johnny almost dropped back to the ground, but surely that was another, fainter glow from the direction of the house?
He kept going, hauling himself onto a sturdy branch, well above the track, from where he watched Smith halt again. By then, the faint glow had separated into several lanterns, spreading out along the line of the woods. Smith turned, facing the torchlight, which, as one light, must have seemed preferable to many, even though it was closer. Especially since in that direction, there was much more space with no light at all.
Smith ran back, swerving the other way around the far side of Johnny’s tree.
Damnation! But Johnny had had enough of waiting around, and his hands were growing numb with the cold. Although he couldn’t drop from straight above as he had meant to, he launched himself in a flying leap.
He was so relieved to crash into Smith rather than the ground that he barely noticed the pain of the first impact or the second. Shocked and winded, Smith had fortunately let go of the knife, which Johnny hastily swept out of his reach before he sat on his victim’s back and wrenched up the man’s arm until he screamed.
More shouts followed as a blaze of light came at them from all directions.
“I’ve a bone to pick with you,” Johnny said unpleasantly, and as the man beneath him began to buck in earnest, he wrenched his arm harder and reached for the other.
“Johnny?” Peter panted, holding up the torch.
“Good grief, Fish,” Lord Calton complained. “What did you get us all out here for when you clearly have everything under control?”
*
“What’s going on?” Martha asked beneath her breath as Lord Calvert and Lord Staunton vanished through the terrace door. At the same time, Lord Calton, Mr. Dornan, and Sir Keith walked out of the ballroom in the opposite direction. Suddenly, all the footmen seemed to be going that way, too. “I’ve seen this happen before. Where is Aline?”
Aline, in fact, was flirting with the vicar, although her gaze strayed occasionally beyond him, obviously aware of the movement and perhaps wondering if her assassin was on the premises. As one, Kitty and Martha moved toward her.
“Remind you of anything?” Martha asked as Aline excused herself from the vicar to join them.
“A little,” Aline said, closing her fan.
“It isn’t your enemy, it’s mine,” Kitty blurted. “He appeared on the terrace and…” She swallowed. “Well, Johnny’s gone after him, and now so has Lord Peter and Lord Calvert and—”
“I can see who has gone,” Aline interrupted. “And the servants along with them. The outdoor staff will be there, too, so I don’t believe we need to worry.”
You didn’t see his eyes… Kitty pressed one hand to her throat, clutching the necklace Johnny had given her. Her other arm crept across her stomach. “Why is he doing this? Why is it so important to kill me that he even followed me here?”
