by Amy Jarecki
“You acquired the statuary in the pavilion’s gallery, did you not?” he asked, changing the subject and eyeing her. Those statues were most decidedly not made in England.
“I did—or Lion’s did.”
“Then I want one of those,” he said, seizing his chance.
Miss Kent turned away, but not before Sher caught a blush blossom in her cheeks. “They are difficult to find.”
“Something makes me think if anyone can find them, it is you.”
“You are referring to Mr. Millward, mind you.”
No, Sher didn’t believe that either. From what his man had reported, Millward was the type of fellow who preferred to be home in front of his fire, reading a book and sipping a brandy.
An elderly man, looking much more like a butler, stepped into the parlor and cleared his throat. “Lord Lisle is ready to receive His Grace.”
“Wonderful. Thank you, Weston.” Miss Kent faced Sher with a resolute sigh. “We will endeavor to make your chinoiserie project a vision to behold as well as see what we can do about finding a Mandarin court official.”
Bowing, Sher took her hand and applied a kiss. What fragrance was she wearing and why, in all of creation, had his knees just buckled? “I…ah…am sure you will, miss.”
“Follow me,” said Weston.
But Sher couldn’t make himself release the lady’s hand. “Do you enjoy riding?”
“Horseback or curricle?”
“Horseback is my preference. I’m quite a connoisseur of fine-bred steeds.”
“I’ve heard about your ability to produce champions at the track. I do enjoy a brisk ride, though I cannot say I dabble in the horse trade.”
“What say you to a ride tomorrow morn?”
“On the morrow?” she asked, her voice a tad shrill. “I’ll have to consult with my calendar. Most likely I have some engagement or another…”
“Then cancel it.” Sher wasn’t accustomed to rejection and he sensed the lady was fishing for an excuse, which he’d not allow. “I’ll be by at ten with a mare you shall absolutely adore.”
After Weston escorted the duke above stairs, Eleanor dropped into her chair and swiped a hand across her forehead. First she accepted this ridiculous commission from Danby, only to discover his mother had no idea what chinoiserie was, let alone did the dowager duchess wish for any refurbishment whatsoever. Worse, the duke had come to read to her father, and now they were going riding tomorrow morning?
Surely the man was conducting an investigation of his own. And she was the person in question.
Eleanor absolutely must do nothing more to invite Sherborn Price’s attentions.
I will ride with him and that will be the end of it. As a matter of fact, I’ll tell him I will read to Papa. I’ll quickly find the furnishings for his silly chinoiserie project and wash my hands of the duke and his meddling once and for all.
Except Danby wanted a blasted Mandarin court official and she highly suspected he’d know a fake when he saw it. Indeed, it hadn’t escaped her notice when he’d inspected her bronze—the one she’d brought back from Malta, upon which she’d conveniently forgotten to pay import duties.
Did he have any idea how rare the court statues were to obtain? The pieces Eleanor had bought for Prinny were not only smuggled into England, they were one-of-a-kind and she doubted she’d find another if she traveled all the way to China.
Perhaps he might be dissuaded by the cost.
“Miss Eleanor, with all due respect, what were you thinking?” asked Weston as he hastened into the parlor with Earnest on his heels.
“You left Danby alone with Papa?” she asked.
“He’s reading aloud.”
“Well, at least he’s not snooping about the house, searching for contraband.”
Earnest stepped from around the butler, cracking his thumbs. “If he oversteps his bounds, I’m more than willing to make arrangements to end his meddling, miss. I still have a few contacts in St. Giles—”
“You will do nothing of the sort.” Eleanor pushed to her feet. She had promoted Earnest to footman after years of service as Cook’s helper. When he was but thirteen years of age, the orphan had been arrested for picking pockets and Eleanor had taken him in to save him from ten years transportation to Australia. She’d done the same with several of the servants—employed them as children to take them off the streets and, once they’d proved their loyalty, she gave them more responsibility. But only a select few knew about and assisted with her privateering enterprise, Earnest and Weston being her two most trusted servants.
Obviously, by his stature, she employed Earnest not only as a footman, but as a protector, especially when she traveled.
“What about the shipment of Madeira?” asked the butler. “If the wind holds, she ought to arrive in the Pool of London on the morrow.”
The mention of the shipment nearly caused Eleanor to heave her tea across the new carpet. This new alliance with Danby would be the death of her. Given his scrutiny, she mustn’t take chances. “Meet the ship on the wharf with Mr. Millward and a customs officer and pay whatever duties are owed.”
Earnest pulled a kerchief from his waistcoat pocket and wiped his forehead. “But that will cost a fortune.”
“It simply must be done. Heaven only knows what Danby is up to.” Eleanor’s mind raced. She needed help and the only person who could stand between her and the duke was the prince regent. Prinny was the one who got her into this mess. He knew how much she had saved him over the years. It was nigh time he repaid the favor and called off his dog—without making Danby or the prime minister suspicious.
Not an easy task.
“How long will this go on?” asked Weston. “As you are aware, there are a number of shipments expected within the next fortnight—especially the cognac and tobacco that White’s ordered. They’ll be very unhappy if we’re late with the delivery.”
“And don’t forget the Chinese screens for Lady Chester, and the bolts of silk brocade for Schweitzer and Davidson,” Earnest added. “They’ll be livid if we don’t deliver.”
Eleanor paced to the door and peeked into the corridor just to ensure Danby wasn’t lurking anywhere nearby. She closed it, turned, and lowered her voice. “After we take possession of the Madeira, we must redirect our ships to Scotland. ’Tis the only way.”
“All well and good, but then what? The cargoes will need proper paperwork when we haul them down the north road,” said Weston.
“Not to mention an army for protection,” Earnest added. “It will cost you a great deal more than the duties.”
“Five years past, we sailed into the Firth of Tay when things grew precarious.” Eleanor prodded Weston’s shoulder with her pointer finger. “Do we not still have a Scottish customs officer on the payroll?”
“We do—in Dundee on the Tay as before.”
“Then I’ll have Mr. Millward dispatch a missive to him straightaway and let him know we’ll need his assistance.” Eleanor peered out into the corridor again before she continued. “Earnest, all ships must be signaled to ensure they do not come anywhere near England’s shores and are diverted to the Tay. Can you ensure it is done?”
“I’ll see to it today.”
“Excellent.”
Weston grasped the young man’s shoulder. “You’d best ensure you’re not being followed. There can only be one reason the Duke of Danby has suddenly taken an interest in Lord Lisle.”
Eleanor felt the same, which oddly made her of two minds. Now that she was tangled in the duke’s web, she ought to do everything in her power to keep him distracted and away from her affairs. At least until Prinny readjusted Danby’s priorities.
As Earnest left, Weston clasped his hands atop his robust belly and leaned forward. “You know there is nothing I would not do for you, miss.”
“Of course.”
The butler’s hedgerow of eyebrows arched. “You have made me and everyone in this household wealthier than we could have ever imagined.”
“Yes, but why do I sense you have something else to say?”
“Perhaps it is time to retire…hang up our gloves, so to speak.”
“But would that not be excruciatingly dull?”
“Dunno. A man could use some monotony in his old age.” Weston stepped away and bowed. “All I ask is that you think on it.”
“Very well. But it is not likely I’ll let a nosy duke stand in my way.”
“Not unless he marries you.”
“Preposterous.”
“I don’t know about that. He’s a good catch—if you actually do decide to retire.”
“He is most definitely not a good catch. He’s a terrible catch. A boor. And furthermore, he has a vile reputation for padding the pockets of more than one mistress.”
Weston arched his bushy eyebrows. “Ah, a man like Danby is a rogue, ’tis true. It will take the right woman to change his priorities.”
“Well, I assure you, such a woman is not me. As a matter of fact, I’m off to visit Mr. Millward and will not be here when the duke comes down. I trust you’ll show him out.”
“I’ll give him a boot up the backside as well, if it pleases you.”
Eleanor’s shoulders shook as she restrained her laughter. “Let us not make matters worse than they already are. At least not as of yet.”
Chapter Four
“How did you enjoy Danby’s reading yesterday? Did you find it invigorating?” Eleanor asked as she sat at her father’s bedside and held his hand just as she had done every morning for over ten years. She brushed her fingers across his translucent, paper-thin skin.
Though he said nothing, she could have sworn the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Was he smiling, or grimacing? Did he have a sour stomach?
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Papa blinked his sunken blue eyes once, which usually meant no. The only problem was Eleanor couldn’t be certain how much he took in or understood. Nonetheless, the old man had been her confidant all these years—at least she shared her life with someone who not only would not, but who was unable to utter a word of gossip to a soul.
“Well, I hope the duke didn’t annoy you overmuch. He has made himself uncomfortably friendly since I attended George’s dinner in Brighton and, unfortunately, I think he’s sniffing about our importing business.”
She sat for a moment, almost waiting for Papa to respond. “But you always told me to keep my friends close and my enemies closer. I don’t believe Danby to be a bad man, mind you, but I fear what he may do if he uncovers the nature of my…our dealings.”
She brushed a breadcrumb away from her father’s gaunt cheek. “Worse, I am powerless to stop all the shipments we have on the seas at the moment. ’Tis a conundrum of the highest order. And let me tell you, I’ll appeal to Prinny if Danby sticks his nose where he shouldn’t.”
“Ahem,” Weston cleared his throat from the doorway. “The duke himself is waiting by the mews. Has he grown so familiar he does not see fit to use the front door?”
Groaning, Eleanor looked to the ceiling and patted her father’s hand. “He has invited me to go riding. They do say he possesses quite an eye for horseflesh.”
“It appears that’s not all he has an eye for,” mumbled Weston, covering the slight by clearing his throat.
“Well.” She stood and brushed out her riding habit. “If the duke is with me, he’s not by the Pool of London waiting for a shipment of Madeira.”
“True.” Weston chuckled. “I leave it to you to paint every cloud with a silver lining, Miss Eleanor.”
“Thank you,” she said as the butler followed her down the corridor. “I do believe Papa smiled this morning.”
“Is that so?”
The more she thought of it, the more she was sure her father hadn’t grimaced. The subtle upturn of his lips had been a grin. “Indeed. I think he rather enjoyed having Danby read to him.”
“Fancy that.”
“I cannot be certain, of course, not until I’ve read to him a bit myself.”
“When he left yesterday, Danby mentioned he was looking forward to continuing Robinson Crusoe.”
“Wonderful,” Eleanor said dryly. Why was it she didn’t want him in her house, yet wondered when he planned to return? To read to Papa, naturally. She mightn’t even see him.
“Shall I turn him away next time?” Weston asked.
“Absolutely not. But I do want to be informed if and when Danby arrives. I say, if my father derives any enjoyment whatsoever from the duke’s visits, they must continue. Papa smiled! It has been a decade since he last turned up the corners of his lips.”
The butler groaned. “Lord save us.”
Stopping at the rear door, Eleanor pulled on her gloves, adjusted her bonnet, and gave the man a pat. “Not to worry. Danby will go on his way soon.”
“You are a fair bit more optimistic than I. His interest is in far more than His Lordship, mark me.”
Unfortunately, she feared the same. Before she stepped outside, Eleanor took in a deep breath. “Only positive thoughts, Weston. Never forget, remaining positive, no matter the adversity, is what pulled us out of poverty and near ruination. I guarantee the man by the mews, with his fancy Arabian horses, has never experienced the hardships we’ve known, and that already makes us stronger. We’ve weathered adversity before. We shall do so again.”
With that, she pushed out the door with her head held high. Except her breath stopped. Her heart leapt, and Danby smiled, standing beside two of the loveliest chestnut horses she’d ever seen. Their coats glistened in the sunlight, their manes and tails brushed to full, silken sheens.
As she neared, she ran her hand along the neck of the mare already fitted with her saddle. “They’re absolutely beautiful.”
“I’m glad they pass muster.” The duke removed his beaver top hat, his grin making butterflies swarm in her stomach. Undoubtedly, Eleanor’s initial reaction of breathlessness had been caused by the sight of the horses—at least she told herself as much.
Stepping forward, Danby took her hand. “’Tis ever so good to see you again, Miss Kent. Are you well?”
She drew in another breath. This one nearly deep enough to staunch the wicked trembling of her fingers. “Unchanged since yesterday.”
He turned up her palm and kissed it, the warmth of his lips searing through her thin kid-leather gloves.
Bless it, taking deep breaths was no help at all. Now her knees were turning into boneless mollusks. No wonder the duke had gained a reputation for rakishness. The man oozed sensuality.
To add fuel to the fire, Danby didn’t straighten right away but shifted his face up slightly, until his gaze met hers. For a fleeting moment, Eleanor was rendered utterly speechless. She stood dry mouthed with her heart thumping out of rhythm. Did he have any idea what kissing the palm of a woman’s hand did to her insides? Well, as a rake he most likely did. However, Eleanor had never been greeted in such a way. In fact, she couldn’t recall a man ever kissing her palm.
Was he deliberately trying to unnerve her?
Danby’s smile grew as he stretched to his full height—at least six feet tall, making her tip up her chin as he held her gaze. He released her hand and it grew oddly cold. “You approve of my filly?” he asked as if he had no idea of the effect he’d just had.
Squaring her shoulders, Eleanor rubbed her palms together. “I expected no less. Even I read the papers. Your horses oft win at the track.”
“I’ll admit, they are my one indulgence.”
“You only have one?”
“At the moment.” He arched an eyebrow, giving her a sideways look as he bent down and laced his fingers together. “May I give you a leg up, my lady?”
After securing the reins, she placed her knee into the cradle he’d made as she did when she used to ride with her father. Besides, placing her boot into the duke’s hand seemed rather disrespectful. “No mounting block?”
“I’ve never seen the use for one.”
&n
bsp; As he hoisted her up, one of his hands slid to the inside of her thigh. Eleanor gasped as her backside settled into the saddle. “My, you are far stronger than I imagined.”
Ever so slowly, Danby’s errant hand slid to her calf before he drew it away. “Are you secure?”
“Yes.” She eased her right knee over the upper pommel and slipped her left foot into the stirrup. “I need my crop.”
He produced the whip from beneath his coat. “Here you are. Does Hyde Park suit your fancy or would you prefer a jaunt to Richmond?”
She rolled the leather of the handle between her fingertips. “I say, Richmond is much too far for a brisk morning ride. Especially on an untried horse.”
“Very well.” In one graceful motion, Danby mounted his steed as if he were as agile as a jockey. “Hyde Park it is.”
The horses’ shod hooves clip-clopped over the cobblestones as they rode through the mews and turned left into the traffic on Brook Street.
“I’ve commissioned your bed,” she said above the din of squeaking carriage wheels, the pounding of hooves and the banter of drivers and merchants in the busy street.
“You?”
Eleanor cringed. Should she give credit to Mr. Millward as she so often did? Of course, the man was nothing but a puppet, though a useful puppet. “I personally oversaw the construction of those items made in England for the prince’s pavilion and thought you deserved the same courtesy.”
“Well then. I am duly impressed.”
As they entered Grosvenor Square, Eleanor tapped her crop, cuing the mare to trot. Danby remained at her side as if the horses were a matched pair, yoked to a carriage. “I also have a few pieces in mind, all with proper customs paperwork.”
“I’d expect no less from you and your little importing operation. I’d like to see them.”
“The papers or the pieces?”
“The pieces, naturally.”
“As soon as the painting and papering are complete, the furnishings will be delivered to your address. I assume the dowager duchess will also want to have her say?”
