“Nathan Fraser, from Edinburgh.” Even though he’d been a duke since his half brother’s death last summer, he had yet to accustom himself to it, still referring to himself by his Christian name without a second thought.
Under the circumstances, it was probably just as well. The innkeeper might have raised a terrific fuss that Nathan did not need. He just wanted to get this over with and continue to London.
Truthfully, he wanted to go back to Edinburgh, but newly inherited duties called.
He entered the parlor to find two women standing in the middle of the room, just in time to hear one of them wail, “But I don’t want to go to London!”
“Have you ever even been to London? A better life awaits you there, especially in the household of a duke.”
One of these women must be the hapless Miss Hathaway, probably the tearful one, in which case the other must be her abigail. She certainly looked the part. She was clad from head to toe in a dull pigeon gray, she wore spectacles, and she was berating her charge to tears.
Yet the other woman, clearly younger, prettier, and more buxom, was even more plainly dressed in a mobcap and cloak that fell over either side of two ample breasts that looked ready to drop out of her blouse. She let out another long wail that rivaled any set of bagpipes.
“Oh, do stop it,” said the bespectacled woman. “One would think you were the one who’d been wagered to—” She abruptly paused as she spotted him in the doorway, her face a picture of astonishment as she whispered, “—the duke.”
If only she knew, but she never would if he had anything to do with it. He cleared his throat. “I beg your pardon, but I didn’t mean to startle you. Would one of you be Miss Hathaway?”
Her face, surrounded by the dreary bonnet and partially obscured by the spectacles, seemed pale as she said, “I would be Miss Hathaway.”
This was the woman Hathaway had wagered? Nathan almost felt relief that she wasn’t younger, prettier, and more buxom. He certainly felt relief that he wouldn’t have to take her to London or even back to Edinburgh.
He finally crossed the threshold into the parlor and sketched a bow. “I am—that is, I represent the Duke of Loring. Nathan Fraser, at your service, Miss Hathaway.”
She stared at him for a long moment, as if she didn’t quite believe what she was seeing, or even hearing.
“At my service?” she finally said. “I thought I was here to be at the duke’s service. Speaking of which, just what does His Grace have in mind for me?”
Nathan had not been expecting such a strident demeanor. “As a matter of fact, he has nothing in mind for you. It should please you to know that in his boundless benevolence—”
She snorted. He supposed he was doing it just a little too brown, but really, how many men, dukes or otherwise, would do what he was about to do?
Then again, maybe all of them would upon meeting this spitfire.
He finished his sentence. “The duke is willing to forgive your brother’s debt.”
Her eyes widened behind the spectacles, and her mouth fell open, but no sound came out.
“You seem speechless with joy,” he remarked with a smile.
She took a step back and shook her head, her eyes and mouth still agape.
“That’s all,” he said. “So you needn’t fret anymore, Miss Hathaway. You can go back to the life you thought you’d have to leave behind, and carry on as if none of this had ever happened.”
He hadn’t thought it possible, but her eyes and mouth opened wider yet. And why was she shaking her head?
“Miss Hathaway, let me say it again. You are free to return home to your old life. You don’t even have to thank me.”
“No,” she blurted.
He furrowed his brow. “I beg your pardon?”
She stiffened and clenched her fists. “I did not come this far and go to all this trouble and do what I did only to be told I can go back to my old life and carry on as if none of this had ever happened. If I must do that, then I most certainly will not thank you for it, Mr. Fraser. I mean to honor Mr. Hathaway’s debt, and that means you will take me to the duke.”
Nathan thought quickly. “He’s all the way in London.” Or he soon would be, barring any further delays and distractions like card games that resulted in him “winning” a strange woman.
“Then take me to London. It’s not out of your way, is it?”
Nathan had not expected this, either. “Are you quite out of your mind?”
“Mr. Hathaway wagers his own sister in a card game and loses her to a duke, and you think I’m the one who’s out of my mind?”
“Perhaps it’s a family trait.”
“How do I know the duke wants to forgive the debt? Why should I take your word for it? I don’t suppose you have anything to prove you’re his man of affairs?”
“If you’re that skeptical of me, Miss Hathaway, then perhaps you shouldn’t trust me to take you to London. I have no wish to waste any more of your time. Or, for that matter, my own. The duke sent me to inform you and your brother that he forgives the debt, and that he hopes your brother will conduct himself with greater decorum in the future.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. He still has three other sisters. Give him enough time and rope, and he’ll wager them all soon enough.”
Nathan didn’t doubt it. “But if he loses them all, it may well be to men who won’t be willing to forgive the debt.”
“Then allow me to stand as a warning to him that he should never do this again, Mr. Fraser. It’s high time he learned his lesson—and perhaps His Grace needs to be taught one as well. You will take me back to London.”
Aye, that would teach him to step into this parlor and present himself to this prickly, little thistle. “Miss Hathaway, there is no need for me to take you to London if the duke has forgiven the debt.”
“Do you have anything in writing from the duke that states he has forgiven the debt?”
Bloody hell. He didn’t think he’d need to present such a document. He’d assumed that just his word would be enough for this hoyden.
Maybe his word would be enough if he told her that he was, in fact, the duke. But would she believe him? The duke’s signet ring was packed away in his baggage, and he wasn’t exactly dressed in the first stare of fashion. Even his equipage was more suited to a duke’s man of affairs than to a duke. Perhaps, once she saw it, she would change her mind.
“I’m afraid His Grace neglected to give me such a document,” he said ruefully.
She tilted her head to one side. “Upon my word, but what sort of duke is he?”
“The sort who only became duke a few months ago, so you might say he’s still learning all the little intricacies that go into being a duke. Like providing documentation that certifies your brother’s debt is hereby forgiven.”
“Actually, isn’t that your job?” she countered. “You are his man of affairs, aren’t you? That’s what a man of affairs does. He’s a man who oversees the duke’s affairs. Honestly, Mr. Fraser, it’s not astronomy or mathematics—it’s a very simple, apt term. But to be a man of affairs means he—which is to say you—are responsible for drawing up and presenting the document in question.”
Nathan was rapidly starting to regret he’d ever set foot in this parlor.
“Oh, don’t tell me,” she said. “You’ve only been his man of affairs for a few months yourself, so one might say you’re still learning all the little intricacies that go into being one.”
“I’m afraid you have the right of it, Miss Hathaway,” he answered. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe I will step into the taproom and see if I can’t find your brother myself. The innkeeper seems to have lost his way.”
As he turned to quit the parlor, he thought he understood why her ne’er-do-well brother sought to unload her at the gaming table. At the time Nathan had thought that Frederick Hathaway didn’t know an ace of spades from a queen of hearts. Now he wondered if the fop wasn’t extraordinarily adept at bluffing a
nd had thrown the game and lost on purpose just to be rid of his sister.
So it should have come as no surprise that when he entered the lobby, he did so just in time for the innkeeper to emerge from the taproom and say, “Oh, there you are, Mr. Fraser. I’m afraid Mr. Hathaway is no longer here.”
“But he was supposed to meet me here at this hour.”
“The barkeep says Mr. Hathaway gave him an extra shilling to show him out the back way.”
Since there was no one else in the lobby, Nathan felt quite comfortable saying, “Damn!”
“What’s wrong?” came a voice from behind him that was starting to sound just a little too familiar, and far too annoying. He almost jumped out of his skin. Damn again!
He refused to turn around and thus acknowledge her. He forced his focus on the innkeeper. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Aye, Mr. Fraser. He said he already bade farewell to his sister, and that he didn’t want to go out the front way for fear he’d see her yet again only to have her start crying anew and pleading with him not to let her go.”
That didn’t sound like the woman behind Nathan at all. Indeed, it would have made better sense if the craven Mr. Hathaway had balked at seeing her again for fear she’d bend an umbrella over his head or even beat him half to death with her reticule.
“Why, that cur!” she seethed, as she came abreast of him. “That worm! To think he left his own sister here, without even bothering to learn what ultimately became of her!”
The innkeeper scuttled into a back room, apparently wanting no further part of this, but he wasn’t the only one.
She looked up at Nathan, the lamplight hitting her spectacles in such a way to make her eyes look as if they were blazing with fury—or maybe they looked like that even without the spectacles. “You do realize what this means, don’t you? He’s abandoned me. Left me to a fate unknown. Maybe the duke meant to forgive the debt, but ’tis clear Freddy means to honor it.”
Nathan planted his right fist on his hip and leaned his left elbow on the counter as he cocked his head to one side. “Now that seems rather out of character for Freddy, don’t you think?”
“Not if he’s resolved to mend his ways,” she replied. “Perhaps this whole affair has given him an epiphany, and he’s decided he must behave responsibly and honorably now.”
“Then he’s chosen a devil of a way to do it,” Nathan said grimly.
“Well, seeing as how he has, for all intents and purposes, abandoned me here, there’s only one thing to do, isn’t there? You shall have to take me to London.”
The trap was sprung, and Nathan felt the sharp teeth snapping closed over him.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Tell me, Mr. Fraser, would you deny my brother his desire—nay, his responsibility—to honor his debts? Would it be honorable of you to deny any man his own sense of honor?”
Nathan by now was utterly flummoxed. “When you put it that way, no. But as the duke’s man of affairs, my opinion should not matter. What matters is the duke’s opinion. And in the opinion of His Grace, it would be in everyone’s best interests if the debt was forgiven.”
“But you can’t even prove that you speak for the duke.”
Nathan had never encountered a woman so mistrustful, but maybe that was to be expected of one with a cowardly, scapegrace brother like Frederick Hathaway.
“A duke is not called a nobleman for nothing,” she went on. “Nor is he called ‘His Grace’ for nothing. Those terms mean something, Mr. Fraser. Nobility and grace go together with honor. Even if the duke does wish to forgive the debt, how could he deny Mr. Hathaway’s wish, his very insistence, on meeting his debt of honor, and still consider himself—that is, the duke—as noble and gracious and honorable?”
She seemed to know more about being a duke than he did. Bloody hell. He couldn’t in all good conscience leave her here, now that her brother had indeed abandoned her. Icy claws squeezed his heart as he recalled what it was like to be abandoned himself. Even if he took her back to her home in Leeds, which by now was a bit out of his way, what was to stop her brother from wagering her again, to someone even worse? He’d have to take her with him until he could figure out what to do with her. Maybe his widowed aunt would like a companion.
“Very well. I see you have your maid with you. Let me send in my coachman to collect your baggage.”
With that, Nathan marched out of the Blue Rooster, wondering just what the hell he was getting himself into.
Chapter Two
Kate waited until he went outside, and then she flew back into the parlor, where Meg’s maid now cowered in the inglenook. “Let’s go. Mr. Fraser has agreed to take us to London.”
The maid sniffled and shook her head. “I do believe I’d rather wait for Mr. Hathaway and return to Leeds with him.”
Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, Kate felt herself fuming smoke at Mr. Hathaway’s swinish behavior. “May I ask your name?”
“M’name’s Polly, Miss Baxter.”
“Well, Polly, according to the innkeeper, it seems Mr. Hathaway has already vacated the premises, without even lingering to learn that if only he’d remained at his sister’s side like a gentleman, he could be taking both of you back to Leeds at this very moment. Of course, that was only if Mrs. Peck hadn’t shown up ahead of Mr. Fraser. Be that as it may, I’m afraid you have little choice but to come with me. I’m taking Miss Hathaway’s place, and I’ll need a chaperone. And you were meant to come along on this journey anyway.”
“I really don’t want to, Miss Baxter,” Polly said timorously.
While Kate certainly understood the maid’s reluctance to embark on the unknown, there were still practical matters to consider. “Pray, where will you go, if not with me? Do you know how to find your way back home?”
Polly shook her head as her face crumpled up again and fresh tears glistened in her eyes. “This is the first time I’ve left the Hathaway house in eight years.”
They were two women in similar situations, but with different attitudes. While Kate had been trapped at remote Bellingham Hall for only sixteen months, it had certainly seemed like eight years.
In fact, it had seemed like a lifetime.
She rested a tentative, reassuring arm around the maid’s trembling shoulders. “It’ll be all right, Polly.”
“But he’s a stranger. ’Twas another reason Miss Meg didn’t want to do this. How do we know Mr. Fraser isn’t an evil, wicked man?”
Polly had a point. Ordinarily, Kate would never consider getting into a stranger’s carriage, even with a chaperone. But this was no ordinary situation, nor was Mr. Fraser exactly a stranger, for Kate had almost immediately recognized the new Duke of Loring, even if he hadn’t recognized her.
That neither surprised nor disheartened her, if only because it presently gave her an advantage. Men seldom took notice of her because she was plain and bespectacled and had no dowry since her stepfather had used it to put a chink in his mountain of debt. Besides, their first and only meeting had been fleeting and, at least for the duke, forgettable. But Kate had never forgotten how tall he was, taller than her stepfather or even her brother. She’d never forgotten his unfashionably long hair, black as a raven’s wing, that fell halfway over his broad brow and curled around his equally broad shoulders. Nor had she forgotten his stormy, blue-gray eyes beneath the thick, black brows, the aquiline nose that gave him a predatory air, and the square, determined chin with the deep cleft.
And she’d never forgotten the sound of his voice, a liquid baritone that was decidedly English but spiced with just enough of a Scottish burr that hearing him talk was almost like listening to music.
Sometime last summer, after coming into his inheritance, the erstwhile Lord Nathan Fraser had stopped briefly at Bellingham Hall en route to London from Edinburgh. He’d arrived just in time for dinner, had retired shortly thereafter, and continued his journey before Kate was even awake the next morning. She must have sp
ent less than half an hour in his company, sitting across the table from him while he told her stepfather that he planned to stay in London only long enough to settle his late brother’s affairs then return to Edinburgh until the following spring, when he supposed he’d have to come back to London and see about taking a wife.
As this was now the following spring, that must be where he was headed. No wonder he didn’t want to claim his winnings.
But since he was obviously traveling incognito—and now, so was she—she thought the better of revealing his true identity to Polly. Instead she tried to mollify the maid with her most reassuring smile.
“I don’t think Mr. Fraser is an evil, wicked man. Maybe if he was, he’d be only too eager to take us to London, or wherever he keeps his secret den of iniquity. But you saw that he was most insistent on forgiving Mr. Hathaway’s debt. Yet Mr. Hathaway is not here to receive Mr. Fraser’s forgiveness. Ergo, we must still go in Miss Hathaway’s stead.” She gently rested a hand on the maid’s trembling shoulder. “Think of it as an adventure, Polly. I know I intend to.” She sprang from the settle. “Now I’m going to look for Mr. Fraser. Wait here.”
“Don’t fret, miss, I’m not going anywhere.” Polly sounded as if she meant it quite literally.
Kate slipped out of the parlor, glancing all around the lobby, but Mr. Fraser was nowhere in sight. She stole a quick peek into the taproom but didn’t see him there, nor did she see Freddy. The cur had truly abandoned his sister. She ventured outside to the inn yard, but still she didn’t see Mr. Fraser anywhere. A man as tall as he was would be hard to miss.
She swept her gaze around the inn yard, studying the various carriages and carts and wagons and horses. Which one was his?
Her turbulent mind raced. He wouldn’t be in one of the open wagons or carts, and he surely wouldn’t be traveling by stage. That left private carriages and post chaises, but Kate saw no sign of the latter.
That meant he had to be traveling in that enormous, black barouche next to a high stone wall. A liveried coachman sat on the box, looking ready to wield his crop and set the horses in motion. No crest adorned the door, consistent with the duke’s desire to travel incognito.
Lingefelt, Karen - Wagered to the Duke (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 2
