Kate didn’t respond but instead pursed her lips as if to preclude saying something she was certain to regret later on. Yet why should she not respond? After all, he was absolutely right—and he didn’t seem at all—
“Let me assure you I’m not at all offended by her disapproval of me, however unfounded,” he went on. “I’m also acquainted with your own stepfather and just as aware that you don’t get along with him.”
Dismay stabbed her. “Did he tell you?”
Lord Waldrop sighed wistfully. “I seem to recall he once mentioned he wished there wasn’t so much tension between him and his stepchildren, but he also understands—as does Sir Niles with young Lady Ellington—that it’s only natural for you and your brother to view him as a sort of interloper or usurper of your father’s place.”
That, Kate thought glumly, was only too true.
“Believe me, Miss Baxter, I do know. I have a stepmother myself. And not only did I once deeply resent her, but I resented all of her friends—simply because they were her friends. Ludicrous, is it not?”
“Amazing,” was all she could say.
He quirked a tawny brow. “What’s amazing?”
“What you just said. How simple is the explanation! And to think it makes perfect sense. If my father had been a gambler always in dun territory, like my stepfather, I still would have loved him.” She refrained from adding that her father had been an adulterer—which, to her way of thinking, was even worse than gambling and subsequent penury. Yet more than a decade after his death, Kate still loved her father and continued to resent her stepfather—and yea, just about everyone with whom he associated.
How silly of her. How irrational.
How childish.
Lord Waldrop flashed her another blinding smile. “It might interest you to know that, since my father’s death, my stepmother and I have become very good friends, and now I love her as a true mother. I think she would like you, Miss Baxter. I wish you could meet her.”
Kate glanced around the ballroom, feeling another stab of dismay as she spotted Nathan dancing with one of young chits he’d been chatting up earlier.
“Is anything wrong, Miss Baxter?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said lamely. “I was just wondering if your stepmother was here tonight, so I started glancing about, and then I realized, silly me. Having never met her, how could I possibly know what she looks like?”
He chuckled. “It just so happens she is with me—we’re both guests of Sir Niles—but she was unable to come tonight as she has a megrim.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m sure she’ll feel much better once I tell her about the extraordinary lady I met this evening! I simply could not believe my incredible luck when I first saw you!”
Goodness, but no one had ever called Kate extraordinary before—or deemed it incredibly lucky to see her. She’d always thought of herself as more of a walking jinx.
Nathan Fraser, Duke of Loring, would certainly agree. Hadn’t she overheard him telling Bilby she was a bad luck charm? She silently fumed as she watched him gracefully weaving in and around the other dancers, and she felt another pang of jealousy. Why didn’t he request a dance with her? At least she wasn’t a stranger. He’d practically lived with her for the past week, slept in the same bed with her for one night, and had—again she felt that delightful, hot shimmer in her lower belly and a tingling in the tips of her breasts. Why did Lord Waldrop not muster the same feeling in her, when he already seemed quite besotted with her?
Wasn’t that what Kate had always wanted? To find a man who would shower her with compliments and, in a roomful of women more beautiful than she, treat her as if she were not just the only woman in that room, but the only woman in the world? Here was a genuine lord ready to worship at her feet before sweeping her off to meet his mother—or rather, stepmother—so why couldn’t she just forget Nathan, who’d never even wanted her in the first place? How else to explain why he wouldn’t dance with her?
Never mind that it was only the first dance. Yet maybe there was something to his assertion that a ball was the best place to find a mate.
“I’ll take the second dance with you,” she said.
Lord Waldrop couldn’t have been more grateful than if she were a fairy godmother who’d just bestowed upon him the dearest wish of his heart. She couldn’t help wondering what was wrong with him, that he didn’t just seem inclined to settle for her, but that he truly believed she was the woman he’d been searching for all his life. It was disconcerting to say the least.
Really, for all his attentiveness and compliments, and especially opening her eyes to the absurdity of condemning her stepfather for the iniquitous crime of being—well, a stepfather, she realized that she still preferred the man who was maddeningly indifferent to her.
A man she could never hope to have.
Could that be the only reason she wanted Nathan? She knew too many chits who persisted in dangling after men they could never have for one reason or another while giving the cold shoulder to better and more attentive prospects. She’d never thought she could be that insipid and featherbrained.
She really needed to stop thinking about him, be her usual sensible self, and concentrate on what—or who—was right in front of her.
Lord Waldrop led her out to the floor for the second dance, which thankfully didn’t require anything more complicated than skipping toward him, taking his hands, and twirling in a circle, then skipping from one end of the ballroom to the other. Then she had to circle around each gentleman while he did the same with each lady, both of them twirling around in between and then repeating. It was simple and lively enough, and she found herself enjoying it all the more when she glimpsed Nathan standing before the huge marble fireplace, his slate eyes stormy as he glared at her and Lord Waldrop.
Good heavens, could it be now he was jealous? Kate felt a frisson of glee that put an extra spring in her skipping steps, and she laughed gaily. As Lord Waldrop spun her around in a giddy circle, with each glimpse she caught of Nathan, he looked more and more furious.
At the end of the dance she was panting for breath, yet she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun—perhaps because she’d never danced before. She turned in search of her dance partner just in time to see Nathan punch him, knocking Waldrop flat on his back on the parquet floor.
Shrieks shot up around the room. Kate wasn’t sure if she was one of those who cried out, but next thing she knew, silence fell with a nearly audible thud over the ballroom as Nathan surveyed Waldrop for only a moment, as if to assure himself his rival was out cold.
And then he brushed past Kate, not even looking at her, but pausing just long enough to mutter, “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
Kate was so stunned that all she could say in response was, “We?”
She stood as if riveted to the floor, unable to move as people pushed all around her to gather around Lord Waldrop. She watched in a daze as Nathan departed the ballroom, his head held high, his shoulders square, his stride swift and purposeful. Not once did he look back.
Only after he vanished did she finally remember Waldrop, but she couldn’t see him now, for too many men, shouting at the ladies to step back, were huddled around him. Kate finally moved, but only because she was caught up in a wave of women ebbing away from the spot where Waldrop was sprawled.
When finally she was able to break free of the crowd, she fled the ballroom and headed straight for the grand staircase. While she didn’t know for certain where Nathan’s bedchamber was, fortunately it wasn’t difficult to find. She had only to venture into the wing opposite the one where her own bedchamber was located and find the open doorway with faint candlelight seeping out into the hallway.
Sure enough, there he was, seated in a chair as he removed his silver-buckled shoes and silk stockings as if he couldn’t wait to get out of them and back into his boots. He glanced up to see her hovering on the threshold.
“Ah, there y
ou are,” he said as if he’d been expecting her.
Had he been expecting her?
She found her voice. “Did you expect me to follow you, like some stray puppy you just rescued?”
He stood up to remove his jacket, tossing it into the chair. “You just did. And you are a stray puppy I rescued. I’m going to take you with me before that scoundrel Waldrop lures you into his kennel.”
“What on earth are you talking about? Why did you hit him? Are you jealous?”
He scorched her with a scathing glare. “Is that why you were flirting with him and—”
“Flirting? What do I know about flirting?”
“You didn’t let me finish. And dancing with him, despite the fact I could have sworn you claimed not to know anything about dancing, either.”
Disbelief gripped Kate. “Answer my question. Do you think I was trying to make you jealous?”
“No, apparently that’s only what you’d like to think. And frankly, I must confess to feeling relieved about it. I’d hate to think you’d actually be foolish enough to set your cap for that blackguard.”
She shook her head in befuddlement. “So you’re not jealous?”
“Damn it, this isn’t one of those silly little on-dits at Almack’s that you want so badly to be a part of.” Flinching, she stepped back as if pushed by the force of his angry voice and the heat from the blaze in his eyes. “For the last time, I am not jealous. But if the only reason you were dallying with him was to make me jealous, then I’m relieved, because I’d hate to think of you developing a tendre for him.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Well, maybe jealousy has a different definition up in Scotland, but down here in jolly old England, we would take what you just said and point to that as a classic example of—guess what? Jealousy!”
Despite her aggravation, she felt her heart bobbing upward. Nathan was jealous but didn’t want to admit it! He did feel something for her—something no other man ever had before—well, except for maybe Lord Waldrop. Why else would he have singled her out and—
“Kate.” She started at the sound of her shortened name on Nathan’s lips, the long-awaited sign that she was out of trouble with him. He no longer roared like a wounded bear but instead addressed her in a tone that was soft, almost sorrowful. Even his expression, so stormy and dark with barely suppressed rage a moment ago, seemed to subside to something that was only cloudy, as if to signify a lull in the tempest.
For her instincts told her that tempest had yet to pass.
“Kate,” he said again as he slowly stepped toward her, his stride no longer as swift as it had been when he exited the ballroom, but still just as purposeful. “While I must confess to being just a wee—well, I don’t wish to say flattered—”
Her heart sank. “I don’t want you to say ‘flattered,’ either.”
“Very well. I like the idea that you might want to make me jealous, only I’m not jealous. Truth be told, I was alarmed to see you in his company, and that’s why I think we should leave Ellington Hall at first light.”
Not that she was complaining, but she couldn’t help saying, “All this time I thought you might wish to leave me here and go on to London by yourself.”
“I dare not. Not if he’s staying at the neighboring estate as a guest of Sir Niles Barnett. It’s not that I don’t trust Trevor to keep you safe, because I saw him in action down on the Peninsula during the war, and he’d never hesitate to take out the enemy when warranted. I just feel an obligation to keep you safe myself.”
Baffled, she asked, “How? Why? What’s wrong with Lord Waldrop?” Aside from the fact he was mysteriously drawn to Kate.
Nathan took a deep breath before replying, “For starters, he’s the man who suggested to Freddy that he stake his sister.”
Shock rippled through her as she gaped up at him. “But I thought that was you.”
“All I did was win the hand. I certainly never suggested he do it. Waldrop did. Freddy’s too much of a lackwit to have thought of it without prompting. But I remained at the table for the sole purpose of making sure Waldrop didn’t cheat to win her, because that’s the only way he wins. As you know, in the end I got her, and he was none too gracious about it, for it seems he’d set his heart—or perhaps I should say some other body part, since I don’t believe he has a heart at all—on acquiring her. Or any female, for that matter. Because of that, I have reason to believe he didn’t give up trying to win a female even after I left.”
“How?” Suspicion crawled up her spine. “Was there another person still at the table with a sister to wager?”
“Not a sister, but a stepdaughter.” Nathan paused as his eyes bored into hers. “And that person was the Earl of Bellingham.”
Chapter Seventeen
For a fleeting moment, Nathan had to wonder if Kate was about to turn into a pillar of salt, or even a block of ice. She stood motionless, gaping back at him with wide, unblinking eyes, now more green than silver thanks to her thistle-green gown with the puffed sleeves that looked as if they could barely cling to her shoulders. He thought of slipping them down just to see if that might jolt her out of her shocked inertia, and contemplated kissing those parted lips. He was only inches from her, gazing down at her stunned expression, and past that to her enticing cleavage. None of the chits he’d met down in the ballroom could distract him from thoughts of her. Ever since he’d first set eyes on her this evening, he knew he had to have her—all the more so now that he knew Lord Waldrop wanted her, too—just not for the same reason.
Tonight she didn’t look like a governess.
She looked as if she could be a duchess.
She finally blinked and blew out a sigh. “Honestly, why should I even be surprised?”
“You shouldn’t be. You’ve mentioned your stepfather’s gambling before.”
She stepped past him and sat in the chair near the fireplace. “The whole reason he returned to his ancestral pile in Yorkshire was so he wouldn’t gamble anymore. If he remained there in isolation—with no one for company but me and my mother—he wouldn’t be able to gamble. But somehow he did.”
“Certain gamblers will always find a way,” Nathan said. “To them, it’s like an addiction to opium, or liquor. It’s as if they think they need it on a continuing basis for their very survival, more so than food and shelter. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t.”
“He went to a shooting party at Lord Gorham’s estate in Northumberland more than a fortnight ago.”
“That’s where it happened. I was there. There was game, and then there was gaming.”
“That’s the first time he’d left Bellingham Hall for any length of time since we arrived there last year.” Kate sat rigid in the chair, her hands curled tightly over the ornately carved arms as she gazed up at Nathan, her face wan in the candlelight. “Did he actually wager me?”
“If he did, it would have been after I left,” Nathan replied. “When Freddy staked his sister, your stepfather joked that he wished he could do the same with you, except—and I apologize for what I’m about to say, but these are his words, not mine—”
Kate flipped up a hand. “Let me guess. He said he didn’t think I had any real value. That I’m worthless.”
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
“Don’t apologize for him.”
“Just so you know, you’re not worthless.”
“I know I’m not—especially if I seem to have some sort of value to Lord Waldrop.”
“Not as much as you might to his stepmother. Rumor has it she was a courtesan before she married his father, and later she had an affair with Waldrop himself, while his father lay dying. After his father passed and Waldrop inherited, he set up his stepmother in business, so to speak. Kate, you have no idea how noble was your act of trading places with Miss Hathaway. Waldrop was never going to marry her, or even make her his mistress, since his stepmother already fills that role. He was going to put her to work for his stepmother—and not as a lady’s compani
on, or a lady’s maid, or a lady’s anything. She’s known in certain, very limited circles to have employed a great many lady’s maids and companions over the years, but they never seem to remain in those positions for long. Instead they move on to fill other positions at her behest and are never seen in good society again.”
Comprehension flickered in her steady gaze. “Miss Hathaway would’ve been—oh, I want to say ‘Protestant,’ but I know that can’t be the word, especially since she’s likely one already. I mean the word that sounds very much like ‘Protestant.’ I always have trouble with the two, probably because I rarely have occasion to say the other.”
“Yes, it’s the other word, precisely what that Swingle chap feared had become of her when you tried to explain to him. That’s why I couldn’t let Waldrop have her.” An old, familiar pain clogged his throat, and he swallowed it hard to force it back into his gut. “That, and the fact that my own mother suffered a similar fate. My half brother wagered her to Waldrop many years ago, and she died while in his stepmother’s employ. Not while traveling on the Continent.” He rubbed his raw knuckles. “Twenty years of rage at that devil went into the punch that felled him. He’s lucky I didn’t kill him.”
“Oh my God,” Kate whispered. “Nathan…”
“But getting back to Miss Hathaway—after I won her and left, Waldrop must have found some way to win you from your stepfather.”
“My God,” Kate whispered again, her face now ghostly pallid, almost ashen. “That must have been his stepmother in that huge, black barouche back in York. Remember, when you fired the pistol? Freddy said later that her son had gone to Bellingham Hall to collect a debt from my stepfather. He never told me the man’s name was Waldrop.”
“Neither did I.” Nathan sat on the tufted chaise at the foot of the bed. “Kate, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left after winning Miss Hathaway. I should have stayed, just to make sure that you, too, wouldn’t suffer the same fate.”
“Nathan, it’s not your fault. Besides, I haven’t suffered the same fate. I’m safe and sound here with you.”
Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 21
