by Kay Hooper
Perhaps Spencer had taken a fancy to the Cat. The Duke of Spencer in love with a female footpad . . .
Brummell smiled to himself in unholy amusement. The next few weeks should be quite interesting—to say the least.
Chapter Eleven
Spencer had just resigned himself to an evening of boredom when, looking up from the dowager who had claimed his attention, he glanced across the room and saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life.
She was dressed all in gold, with golden ribbons threaded through her raven hair. She was smiling up at her dancing partner, and even from across the room, Spencer was struck by the brilliance of her eyes.
He felt a touch on his arm and turned to find the dowager regarding him with an indulgent smile. “I see you have noticed my goddaughter, Your Grace. A lovely girl, is she not?”
“Yes,” Spencer replied with a faint smile. “Yes, she is very lovely. I do not believe I have met her.”
The dowager lowered her voice significantly. “Poor little thing. That nasty stepfather of hers has been keeping her in the country all these years, but her mother managed to send her to me two weeks ago. I’d be delighted to present you, Your Grace.”
Spencer inclined his head and followed the dowager across the room. The dance had ended and, as they drew nearer to the girl, Spencer realized what his first impression had been—she was lovely.
Jenny heard Lady Beddington call her name, and turned to see her godmother bearing down on her—with the Duke of Spencer at her side. Jenny’s habitual calm served her well; she was able to smile easily.
Lady Beddington returned the smile, an imp of mischief in her bright blue eyes. “Jenny, I would like to present the Duke of Spencer. Your Grace, my goddaughter, Jennifer Courtenay.”
Jenny extended her hand to the duke, curtsying as she did so. “How do you do, Your Grace?”
The duke bowed low over her hand. “Miss Courtenay, I am delighted to meet you.” The music began, and he continued with a smile, “May I have this dance?”
Jenny responded just as her godmother had taught her. With laughter in her golden eyes, she said, “If you please, sir.”
Spencer led her out onto the floor, feeling oddly light-headed. As he took her into his arms for the waltz, he felt certain that he had met her before. Giving in to impulse, he said, “Miss Courtenay—have we met before?”
Jenny fought down a rising panic and concentrated on keeping her voice light and careless as she replied, “Why, no, Your Grace—I am certain that we have never met. I have only been in London for a week or so.” She gazed up into his eyes and felt absurdly startled to find them smiling down at her. My, but he was big.
“I hesitate to contradict a lady,” he responded, “but, I feel certain that we have met before.”
Jenny called all her acting talents into play. With a brilliant smile, she said, “Perhaps you saw me riding in the park one morning.”
Giving in gracefully, Spencer replied, “Perhaps I did. Do you enjoy riding? I believe that Lady Beddington mentioned you are accustomed to living in the country.”
Jenny felt some of her tension ease. “Why, yes, I am used to riding every day, though I must admit that it seems a trifle tame to be obliged to hold my mount to a gentle canter.”
Spencer smiled sympathetically. “I feel the same way, I assure you. It is especially trying when one’s mount has not been out of the stables in several days.”
Jenny laughed. “Indeed it is. Do you hunt, Your Grace?”
He nodded. “My estate is in the heart of some of the best hunting country in England.” With a smile, he continued, “My mother used to complain that I spent more time on my hunters than I did with my books.”
“My mother used to say the same thing.” She smiled up at him. “I always liked horses better than people. Mama was in despair when I began to go out hunting with Papa. She insisted that ladies did not know how to handle guns.”
Spencer felt an odd little tingle somewhere near the back of his mind. He dismissed the feeling, telling himself that it was nothing. “I would venture to say, then, that you were something of a tomboy.”
“How astute of you.”
Again, the duke was conscious of that odd feeling. Her comment seemed to echo in his mind, as if he had heard it before. Then he remembered.
Jenny felt her hand nearly crushed suddenly, and looked up at him in protest. Her words died in her throat as she saw his eyes. They were strangely dazed, as though he had suddenly realized something.
“Your Grace.” He looked down at her as though he were seeing someone else. “My hand—you’re hurting my hand.”
He blinked and immediately loosened his grip. “I beg your pardon, Miss Courtenay,” he murmured.
Jenny had the uneasy suspicion that he had been thinking of her—or the Cat. She wanted to divert his thoughts, but found herself totally unable to say anything at all. She could only stare up at him, her heart pounding in her breast.
Spencer gazed down at her pale face and, seeing the fear in her golden eyes, knew that he had to reassure her—she knew that he had guessed her identity.
With a strangely gentle smile, he said softly, “I told you once that I would not betray you; I meant that. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Secret?” Jenny refused to admit defeat. “Why, Your Grace, whatever can you mean? I—I have no secrets.”
He continued to smile. In a meditative tone of voice, he said, “I remember meeting a certain young lady one dark night. She was a woman of fire and spirit, and possessed great courage. I admired that woman very much. I never thought that I would hear her play the fool.”
His words had the desired effect. Jenny’s eyes flashed with anger. Without considering her words, she said, “And you haven’t heard it yet. I may be many things, Your Grace, but I am not a fool.” She stopped, appalled by what she had said.
He was grinning openly, his eyes bright with laughter. “No, but you certainly have a temper,” he said quietly.
In a low voice she asked, “How did you know?”
“That first night you came to my house you made quite an impression on me. I remember everything you said to me. When I asked you what you were searching for, you said that it was ‘astute’ of me to have guessed that you were searching for a particular article of jewelry. When you used the same words just now, I suddenly realized that you were the Cat.”
“Hush!” She glanced around nervously. “Are you so anxious for me to hang that you mean to expose me here—now?”
“I don’t mean to expose you at all,” he replied quietly. “I told you that before.”
“Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.” Her voice was dry. “There’s quite a price on my head.”
He shook his head sadly. “You still don’t trust me, do you?”
She shot him an irritated look. “Well, what an absurd question! Of course I don’t trust you! I don’t enjoy having my life in the hands of a stranger.”
“There is a remedy for that, you know.”
She looked suspicious. “Oh? And what is that?”
He smiled. “You can become better acquainted with me, and then I won’t be a stranger any longer. Does that not sound logical?”
“You’re asking a woman about logic?” Her smile was wry.
“When the woman is you, yes I am. Well? Do you think you could bear to spend some time with me?”
Jenny began to understand how a cornered fox must feel. The duke was an excellent hunter. But she had a strange feeling that she would enjoy any time she could spend with the duke. “I might—possibly—be able to bear it,” she responded with a faint smile. “Provided, of course, that you don’t intend to talk about how I spend my spare time.”
He smiled at her. “I promise. Now—how would you like to come riding with me tomorrow?”
Throwing her fate to the winds, Jenny smiled back at him. “I would love to, Your Grace.”
The dance ended just then, and Spence
r led her to a secluded corner of the ballroom, where they sat down on a small bench. Spencer smiled and said, “We can begin to get to know one another now—unless, of course, you are in dire need of a glass of lemonade.”
Jenny smiled reprovingly. “That was not very gallant of you. You made it sound as though I would be committing a crime if I admitted to thirst.”
He laughed. “Yes, but if you are thirsty, then I will have to go and fetch you a drink, and when I return, some buck will have taken my place.”
Amusement gleamed in her golden eyes. “In that case, you may rest at ease; I am not in the least thirsty.”
“Good. Now, tell me about yourself.”
“There isn’t much to tell. My home is in Kent—near the village of Maidenstone. I was an only child until my mother remarried six years ago.”
“And your father?”
“He died eight years ago.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard on you.”
For a moment, her eyes were clouded. “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes, it was.” The haunted look faded away. “But that was a long time ago. As I said, my mother remarried.”
She went on to tell him something of her life at Courtenay Manor and, encouraged by his obvious interest, lost all track of time.
The two were so engrossed in one another that they failed to notice that nearly every eye in the room was focused on them. Matrons who had tried every possible way of attaching their daughters to the highly eligible Duke of Spencer felt their bosoms swell with indignation as they watched Jennifer Courtenay capture His Grace’s attention with no trouble at all. They wondered what it was about her that had captivated the duke so thoroughly. It wasn’t beauty; the duke had met many a beauty in the past ten years. He had no need of her fortune, which was, if all accounts were true, quite large. What was so special about her?
Jenny suddenly noticed the attention they had attracted. With a slight flush staining her cheeks, she fell silent.
“Miss Courtenay?” Spencer frowned. “Is something wrong?”
She nodded slightly toward the crowded ballroom. “You may be accustomed to being the center of attention, but I am not,” she answered wryly.
He followed her gaze and swore beneath his breath. “All the privacy of a goldfish. Perhaps if we ignore them, they will go away.”
She smiled and rose to her feet. “I think not. In any case, I should return to my godmother. She will be wondering about me.”
Spencer smiled ruefully as he got to his feet. “I’m afraid I chose a rather bad time for us to get to know one another. We shall do better tomorrow.”
As they began to make their way across the room, Jenny said, “A gentle canter, Your Grace?”
He laughed softly. “Convention dictates, I’m afraid.”
There was a challenge in her smile. “Shall we challenge convention?”
He looked down at her, amusement in his eyes. “Why not?”
“Good.” She nodded, her eyes bright with mischief. “I have a gray that I’ve been anxious to try out. He’s a little on the wild side, and I’ve hesitated to ride him in the park—for fear that he would disgrace me. But with the Duke of Spencer at my side, I need no longer fear any loss of credit.”
“And what if my credit isn’t good enough to carry you off?”
“I have no fear of that.” Her smile was demure. “A duke may do as he chooses—and no one will say him nay.”
He chuckled, amused by her casual use of his consequence. “Do you care so much for your reputation?” He wasn’t surprised at her answer.
“Not at all,” she replied coolly. “But while I am living in my godmother’s house, I must contrive not to disgrace her. I owe her a great deal.”
They came up to Lady Beddington just then, and the duke smiled at the dowager and then bowed to Jenny. “At what time shall I call for you, Miss Courtenay?”
“Two o’clock?”
“Two o’clock it is.” He smiled again, nodded to Lady Beddington, and then moved away.
“Jenny?” Lady Beddington’s plump, cheerful face was avid with curiosity.
Jenny smiled at her godmother. “We’re going riding tomorrow.”
“Well!” The dowager wore a triumphant expression. “I’ve never seen him so taken with any of the young ladies. You mark my words, Jenny. You’ll be a duchess before the season is over.”
Jenny smiled wryly as she watched her godmother preen herself. She was under no illusions as to the reason for Spencer’s interest. He knew she was the Cat, and he was curious—nothing more.
She watched beneath her lashes as he led Lady Jersey onto the floor, and knew a flicker of regret that he was only interested in her because of her strange career.
Lady Jersey smiled archly up at Spencer. “I see you’ve discovered the new beauty, Nick. Tell me, what do you think of her?”
He smiled easily. “She’s very beautiful.”
“The man has eyes in his head,” she marveled. “That wasn’t what I meant—and well you know it.”
“I just met the girl, Sally. I don’t know what I think of her yet.”
There was a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “She’s quite out of the common way, you know. Intelligent as well as beautiful. But I daresay you wouldn’t let a little thing like that stand in your way.”
“Stop trying to marry me off, Sally,” he responded imperturbably.
“Well, someone has to! You’re—what?—thirty two, thirty-three?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Practically in your dotage. Your poor mother would like to see her grandchildren before she dies—she told me so the other day.”
“My mother,” he said calmly, “is as healthy as a horse. She isn’t likely to ‘depart this mortal coil’ for some time yet.”
Lady Jersey shook her head sadly. “Well, at any rate, if you mean to try for Jennifer Courtenay, you’d better hurry and get your bid in. In addition to her beauty, she’s also very wealthy. Half the bucks in town are after her. Including Rivenhall.”
Spencer frowned. “Planning on lining his pockets?”
“You can hardly blame him. The poor man’s been one jump ahead of his creditors for years.”
“If he wouldn’t spend his nights at cards,” Spencer responded unsympathetically, “he wouldn’t be so pressed for money. All the Rivenhalls are gamblers.”
Lady Jersey shrugged. “He may not have to worry much longer. Miss Courtenay seems to favor him. If she’s looking for a title, she may settle for an earl. The family is good—he can trace his lineage back to the Conquerer.”
Spencer smiled mockingly. “Half of England can trace its lineage back to the Conquerer.”
Lady Jersey smiled reluctantly. “True.” The dance ended and, as he led her back to her place, she said, “In any case, Miss Courtenay may not feel that she is good enough for a duke. Her father committed suicide, you know.”
He looked surprised. “I didn’t know, but I should like to know what that has to do with her.”
Lady Jersey resumed her seat and smiled up at him. “As far as I’m concerned—nothing. But the girl may be sensitive. Many girls would.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Perhaps.” She tilted her head to one side inquisitively. “Mean to try your hand, Nick?”
His frown disappeared. “Don’t try matchmaking me, Sally. I can handle my own affairs.”
The lady smiled as she watched him move away. These confirmed bachelors, she thought. Sometimes it was necessary to stir their interest a bit.
Spencer made no attempt to talk to Jenny again. He had given the gossips of London enough to talk about by singling her out for his attention. He was anxious to spend more time with her, but he had no intention of allowing half of London to observe his courtship.
With that in mind, he danced with several other ladies, and even flirted a bit with some of the older ones. He was far too astute a bachelor to give any of the younger ladies cause to think he had serious intentions tow
ard them.
The party began to break up around two A.M., and Spencer watched Jenny leave with a feeling of anticipation. Tomorrow he would begin to unravel the mystery of Jennifer Courtenay.
Chapter Twelve
Spencer called for Jenny promptly at two o’clock the next afternoon. He was admitted to Lady Beddington’s house by a stern-faced butler, and stepped inside just as Jenny came down the stairs.
Her riding habit was black velvet, trimmed with gold braid, and a gold scarf trailed from her hat. She looked beautiful.
Forgetting the servant’s presence, Spencer said impulsively, “How lovely you are.”
Jenny halted, confused, and then slowly descended the rest of the stairs. With a shy smile, she extended her hand. “Good afternoon, Your Grace—and thank you for the compliment.”
He bowed low over her hand. “My pleasure, Miss Courtenay. Shall we go?”
She smiled and nodded, making no attempt to withdraw her hand from his grasp.
The butler showed them out, his stern face having softened at the duke’s loverlike greeting. He sighed nostalgically as he watched them ride away.
The duke kept a watchful eye on Jenny’s horse for the first few minutes. He was a beautiful horse with a great deal of spirit, and not really suited for a lady. But Jenny obviously knew horses well, and had no trouble controlling his playful attempts to unseat her.
Spencer smiled at her. “I should have known you were an excellent horsewoman after seeing you on that black stallion of yours.”
She gave him a warning look. “You promised.”
“So I did.” He inclined his head slightly. “And I mean to keep that promise. But you must forgive a slip of the tongue now and then.”
“A slip of the tongue,” she responded dryly, “could put a noose round my neck.”
He started to speak, then apparently thought better of it. “Blast that promise!”
“I’m holding you to it.”
“Then, for heaven’s sake—don’t talk about hanging.”
