"Nick," Lord Neville said as he came out of the morning room. He cleared his throat as he saw them standing together, and Katherine tried to pull away. Nicholas tightened his grip in response. "Excuse me," her godfather continued, "but might I have a word with you when you return?"
The duke nodded. "Of course." He returned his gaze to Katherine. "Shall we go?"
He took her shawl from Rawlins and put it around her shoulders himself, then took her parasol and led her outside. They were to take the high-perch phaeton, she realized with delight. A magnificent-looking team of matched grays waited, held by a small, gray-haired man with a moustache and a pair of merry, light-blue eyes.
"Do you like roast chicken?" the duke asked, helping her into the high seat and then thumping the basket stowed behind her as he circled around the rig and climbed up next to her.
"Yes." She nodded, watching as the groom released the horses and stepped back. Nicholas touched the reins, and the team sprang forward. As the rig passed by him, the groom swung up behind them, next to the picnic basket.
''This is our nanny, Jack," Nicholas told her, nodding in the groom's direction.
"Good morning, miss," Jack greeted her, doffing his cap and grinning.
"Good morning, Jack," she answered, smiling back at him.
The duke had to hold the team back the entire time they were in London, and she couldn't help but admire his skillful maneuvering of the spirited pair. She had heard the Black Duke could drive to an inch, and saw no reason to disbelieve the claim.
As they left the city behind, the grays moved into a canter. There was little traffic as they traveled through the green countryside, and Katherine found herself smiling as they drove along. She had missed being in the country.
''There's a spot I have in mind," Nicholas said, "about an hour from here." He looked over at her. "What are you smiling at?"
She shrugged, looking back at him. "I'm happy," she admitted.
He grinned. "You are easy to please," he replied.
"May I try?" she asked, motioning at the reins and attempting to take advantage of his good humor.
He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Have you driven before?" he asked dubiously.
"I used to drive my father's team quite a bit before he was killed," she answered. "He said I was good."
Nicholas glanced at the empty road ahead of them again and shrugged. "Brace your feet," he advised, "or they'll pull you right over."
She did as he said, and he handed over the reins. He was right; the team was still fresh, and, seeming to sense a new driver, strained against her. She braced her shoulders and kept the horses to a canter, enjoying their liveliness and the feel of them responding to her light commands. After a league or so a milk wagon appeared, coming toward them, but Nicholas sat back and crossed his arms.
Katherine grinned and, determined not to embarrass herself by running the phaeton into the hedge at the side of the road, clucked to the team and guided it over to one side of the way. The wagon passed them without incident, the driver doffing his hat to her.
"Your father was right. You're a fine whip." Nicholas chuckled.
He let her drive until her arms grew tired, then took the ribbons back. Finally he guided the phaeton off the road under a stand of elms. A short walk from the lane, a small brook ran through a shady meadow. Jack climbed down and went to the horses while Nicholas tied the ribbons and jumped to the ground. He came around to lift Katherine down, placing his hands on her waist. His touch made her feel breathless, and he held her longer than he needed, looking down at her.
"Hungry?" he asked finally, and when she nodded he released her and pulled the picnic basket off the back of the rig. She took his free arm, and they walked through the lush grass to the edge of the water.
Nicholas set out a blanket in the shade and then sat cross-legged beside her. He handed her two glasses and poured Madeira into them, then took one back from her. "To a day in the country," he toasted, and she smiled and clinked the fine crystal against his.
"And to a fine team of horses," she added, and he laughed and raised his glass again.
Still smiling, he tilted the glass at her. "And to you."
He took a sip, looking at her over the rim, and then set the glass aside to delve into the hamper. "Oh. This is for you," he said, and handed her a small box tied with a bright-blue ribbon.
She glanced up at him suspiciously, then accepted the package when she could read nothing more than amusement in his gaze. Carefully she untied the ribbon and pulled off the lid. Seeing the contents, she burst into laughter. "You remembered," she chortled, and lifted out a chocolate cream to pop it into her mouth.
''Of course," he replied, chuckling as he accepted one of the candies.
She watched as he prepared her a plate of roast chicken and handed it over. "How often does the Duke of Sommesby go on picnics?" she asked.
He glanced up at her and shrugged in a very un-Black Duke-like manner. "Not very often," he replied, removing his hat and jacket and setting them aside.
"And why is that?" she pursued, trying not to focus her attention on how dashing he looked in his waistcoat and shirtsleeves.
He shrugged again and grinned, taking a slice of peach and then offering her one. "No challenge."
Kate didn't know quite how to reply to that, and so she took a moment to remove her irksome bonnet and dump it on the blanket. "I take it, then, that you find me to be a challenge?" she returned.
"I find you infinitely challenging," the duke responded. "In fact, I have made it my personal quest to determine what motivates you."
"I thought we had that conversation," she replied, blushing. It was the first time he had actually intimated that he was interested in her, that he found her more than merely amusing, as she had half begun to fear. Kate glanced down at the gift he had given her and smiled, lifting it in one hand. "Remember?"
He laughed. "I believe you did mention several other things that were at least as important to you as chocolate creams." Nicholas glanced down at his plate, and set it aside. "You said that your father had been killed," he said quietly, his smile fading. "Do you mind my asking what happened?"
She shook her head. "We had just come to London for my Season, and he had to go home on business. On the way back to town his carriage slid off the road during a rainstorm, and he was trapped beneath it and drowned." After two years she could speak of it in a steady voice, but the news, when it came, had been devastating.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "How come you to Neville and Alison after all this time?"
"My mother died seven months ago of pneumonia," she answered, glancing away.
Nicholas sat up straighter. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"What was I supposed to say?" she returned, touched by the compassion in his voice. "Mama forbade me to go into mourning. She said it was time for me to live." She shrugged and smiled. "You've certainly made it easier for me to forget."
He laughed again. "I have become notorious for making women forget things at opportune times," he drawled.
She blushed, for she could imagine what he was implying. "No doubt," she answered, looking straight at him and refusing to let him think he had shocked her.
He leaned toward her, and she found herself tilting her head sideways. The duke paused for a moment, his expression telling her that he knew exactly what she was thinking, then reached a hand over and brushed at her lower lip with one finger. "You have a little chocolate on . . . "
Embarrassed, she raised a hand to wipe it away, but he grasped her fingers and pulled her toward him with practiced ease. "Your Grace―" she started to say.
"I'll take care of it," he murmured, and kissed her. Her arms went around his shoulders as if of their own accord, and he chuckled against her mouth and shifted forward to kiss her again. He pushed her over backward, his weight settling across her hip and pinning her beneath him. Kate was breathless and tingling allover, her heart pounding so hard, she thought he must be able to fe
el it against his chest.
A figure stepped up to block the filtered sunlight. "Excuse me, Your Grace."
Nicholas let Kate go as though he had been scalded, and sat upright. "Damn," he muttered, staring down at her, then turned to look up at Jack. standing a few feet away. "Jack, consider yourself dismissed."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Katherine, her face hot, sat up as well. Despite the difficulty she was still having with breathing, she wasn't certain she was grateful for the groom's interference either; he had likely saved her virtue, but at that moment she didn't know if she wanted her virtue saved. She watched Nicholas's profile closely, after a moment unable to help smiling at the exchange that followed.
"Don't you have to water the horses?"
"Did that, Your Grace."
"Walk them?" Reluctant amusement began to war with the frustration on Nicholas's face.
"Did that, Your Grace."
''Go away, Jack."
"Can't do that, Your Grace."
"Well, we can," the duke stated. rising to his feet. He held a hand down and pulled her up after him. He reached down again and handed her the parasol before he placed her hand over his arm. Without a backward glance he led her along the creek. After a moment he looked down at her. "Again you make me forget myself. Baiting me can be a dangerous thing for a young lady to do."
"Yes," she answered, again unwilling to let him cow her. "I know."
He shook his head. "Damn it, Katherine! I'm not used to this kind of game, and I'm afraid I don't play it very well."
''Thomas said as much," she replied, swinging her parasol back and forth in her hand and wondering what kind of game he thought he was playing with her, and what winning it would entail.
"What exactly did Thomas say?" the Black Duke queried, his tone sharper.
"Only that you were used to a different kind of woman than I. He implied that I might need rescuing."
"He's right. On both counts." He stopped and moved in front of her. "You've likely heard a great many things about me," he said slowly, his gray eyes serious, "and most of them are probably true. Some things I did simply because I could, because there was no one willing to try to stop me." He paused for a moment, then smiled. "And believe me, you are the first person to ever accuse me of being a high stickler."
She grinned back. "I can believe that."
He laughed, taking her hand to raise it to his lips. "I am pleased you came to London this Season," he murmured, chuckling, and, still holding her hand, started to move forward again.
She remembered what she had heard about how dubiously he had begun the summer. The Black Duke before her little resembled the rakehell she had heard discussed. "I miss home a little, but so am I."
"Where is home?"
"A tiny estate a few days north of here." She pursed her lips ruefully. "I daresay Crestley is probably smaller than your stables at Sommesby."
His hand jumped in hers. "Crestley?" he repeated slowly.
"Mm-hm. Crestley Hall. You should see it. It's so beautiful. Mama loved roses, and the whole garden blooms all summer. I used to love to open my window in the evening and let the smell of the flowers inside my room." Nicholas didn't say anything, and she thought she must be boring him. "I'm sorry if I'm prattling."
He looked over at her, his expression more solemn than she would have expected. "I have yet to hear you prattle, Kate. Crestley sounds enchanting."
She sighed when Nicholas finally glanced down at his pocket watch. "I would hate to have put up with all of this to preserve your reputation and then ruin you by keeping you out after dark," he muttered with a glance at his groom as they turned back, and she laughed again.
They loaded the remains of their picnic back into the hamper, which Nicholas carried back to the phaeton. While he put it away she walked up to where Jack stood holding the horses. "These are beautiful animals," she said.
"Aye," Jack agreed, "and His Grace is real particular about who holds the ribbons. Only him 'n' me ever driven 'em before today."
She looked at the groom closely, finding that piece of information very interesting. "Why is―"
"Ready to go?" Nicholas asked, coming up beside her. She wasn't, but nodded as he helped her up into the high seat. "The Magic Flute comes to the opera next week," he said, moving around and climbing up beside her. "You and the Hamptons would be welcome to join me in my box."
She nodded, grinning. ''That would be grand." After a moment she laughed.
"What now?" he asked, clucking at the team.
"You sounded so . . . proper," she said with a chuckle. Nicholas looked over at her and furrowed his brow.
''There's no need to be insulting," he returned. He faced forward for a moment, then snorted and glanced sideways at her. "'Proper'? Now I'm offended," he muttered.
Katherine just laughed at him.
The Duke of Sommesby had never spent such a day in his life, and didn't quite know what to make of what had transpired. On rare occasions he had been induced to take one or other of his mistresses picnicking, but even with the complete license they granted him, he had not felt what he had experienced by sharing one afternoon, and one kiss, with Katherine Ralston. Just when he thought he was winning the battle she changed the rules, and he had no idea what to do with her.
Over the past few weeks it had finally begun to occur to him that perhaps his own reputation did matter, and not simply for his own sake. If he saw Katherine again it would begin to reflect on her. And he did want to see her again, with an urge so strong he felt powerless to resist. His mind and his heart had begun behaving like two different entities, leaving him dazed and befuddled with so many conflicting emotions he was halfway to believing he had gone mad and might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.
He stopped the phaeton outside Hampton House and came around to hand Katherine down. With a word to Jack to keep the horses standing, he followed her to the door. As though sensing their presence, Rawlins swung the door open, but Kate stopped on the top step. "I wanted to thank you," she murmured, and touched his sleeve. "I had a splendid time."
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "As did I," he answered with what was likely a rather addlepated smile.
She looked up at him for a long moment, her blue eyes twinkling, and then stepped inside. With a deep sigh and a silent curse at all diligent grooms, he followed. He watched her go upstairs, then found Neville in his office.
"Nick." the baron said in acknowledgment, but the duke thought the greeting sounded cool.
He could guess why, and he had his own reasons for being annoyed with Clarey in return. "Neville," he replied, shutting the office door and taking a seat.
"Did you have a pleasant time?" Nicholas nodded. "Yes. Thank you."
The baron stood, walked around the office, then sat down again. "She's like a daughter to me, you know," he burst out.
"I know," Nicholas answered, making what he deemed an admirable effort at keeping his temper. "I'm glad she had somewhere to go when she left Crestley."
Clarey started and looked up at him. "Nick―" Sommesby stood. "I don't know what's going on," he said with a growl, "but consider me out of it." He turned for the door.
"Sommesby, it's not what you think. I would never hurt Kate."
Nicholas stopped with his hand on the door. "Then why am I buying her estate out from under her? She has no idea, Neville."
"I know. It's her damned uncle. The man's never done an honest day's work in his life, but he was named Kate's guardian. The first thing the bastard did was to send Kate here, then put Crestley up for sale as soon as she was out the door." Neville looked at him. "Or so I assume."
Somewhat reassured by the baron's obvious indignation, Nicholas released the door handle and turned around. "You're right. It came on the market."
"You see now why I couldn't become involved, why I needed―"
"A rakehell with a bad enough reputation that Kate's uncle would believe I would willingly cheat her out of her
inheritance?" He shook his head, trying to curb his anger at himself, Neville, and, mostly, Kate's dear uncle. "Some things are too dastardly even for me."
"Nick, I don't know what else to do. Simon Ralston would bum Crestley to the ground before he'd walk away from it."
Nicholas closed his eyes for a moment, then jabbed a finger at the baron. "You tell Katherine about this. She loves Crestley. She deserves to know." Besides, he thought, she'd likely kill him if she suspected he was hiding something from her; also, although he thrived on upsetting and annoying people, hurting her was the last thing he wanted to do.
"I'll tell her."
"All right." He nodded and took a deep breath. "I believe I'm close to striking a deal. My man should be back in a day or two. I'll inform you as soon as I find out myself."
Neville stood. "Thank you, Nick."
Nicholas shook his head and rose as well. 'Thank me when the deal's done."
11
Katherine awoke to the scent of roses. After a dreamy moment she started, then sat up to see Emmie placing a large vase filled with several dozen red and white blooms on her dressing table. "What's this?" she queried.
"Oh, Miss Kate, these come for you first thing this morning. I wanted them to be here when you woke up," her maid gushed. "Ain't they grand?"
''They are." Katherine smiled as she spied the note settled among the buds.
"Shall I bring you up your morning tea, miss?" Emmie went over to the window and drew back the curtains, letting in the morning sunlight.
"Yes, please."
As soon as Emmie had shut the door behind her, Katherine dashed over to the flowers. She leaned forward and breathed deeply of their fresh scent, then pulled out the envelope. Her name was written boldly across the front, and she smiled. The typically brief missive made her laugh. It said, ''To a fine whip. Nicholas."
She was still smiling when she came down to breakfast, to find that her godparents had just sat down as well. "Good morning," she greeted them, going around the table to kiss each of them on the cheek.
"Good morning; m'dear," Lord Neville responded, though he seemed a little subdued.
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