Kyra felt a flush steal to her cheeks. "Yes, so do I."
"Hmmph." The duke cleared his throat with a small cough. "He has a plan, you say?"
"Actually, I am not quite sure what he has in mind. He left for London this morning in order to search out information to counter Matherton’s malice—don't ask me what, for he didn't say. He simply asked me to trust him, and, well, I am happy to do so." Feeling a little awkward, she quickly added, "After all, he is Jack's cousin. And Jack is involved as well."
"Ah, well, then I suppose I can rest easy that the matter is in capable hands," murmured her father. "Those two young war heroes should have no trouble defeating a lily-livered coward."
She hoped that was true. But a frisson of worry slid down her spine. Matherton didn't play by gentlemanly rules, while Rafael and Jack were the very souls of honor.
"Yes, if all goes according to plan. But we all have a part to play in it, Papa."
"Excellent. I do hope it calls for me to have my Manton pistols loaded and primed," quipped her father. He flexed a fist. "Though in truth I would rather plant that scoundrel a facer."
"I trust it won't come to firearms of fisticuffs," answered Kyra. "Rafael—that, is, Mr. Greeley, would simply like for you to make it known that in addition to celebrating Jack's return, a special betrothal announcement will be make at the ball."
The duke sat up a little straighter in his chair. "A betrothal?"
Kyra was sure her face was now flame red. "Yes, Matherton is pressing me to agree to marry him, and in order to keep him off guard, I must pretend to accede to the demand. Having the guests all abuzz about the surprise announcement will further lull him into a false sense of security."
"Mr. Greeley is to be commended for having devised such a clever ruse."
"Yes, well, he and Jack have a great deal of experience in planning tactics and strategies to defeat a cunning enemy."
"Thank God for that." Her father pursed his lips. "The guests will of course be disappointed that it is all a hoax. Tell me, did Greeley give any hint as to how to I should deal with that?"
"I..." Was that a twinkle lurking in the depths of her father's eye? "Perhaps it would be best if you speak to him about that, Papa. I, um, wouldn't want to garble any of the details."
"Yes, perhaps that would be best." It was definitely a twinkle. "Indeed, I am very much looking forward to what the clever lad has to say."
Chapter 16
"That was exceedingly clever of you, sir," said Harriet admiringly as she set down her cup.
"Thank you," replied Rafael. He had just finished showing them the documents he had brought back from London and explaining how all the pieces of his plan now fit together.
"Though I still would have liked to see Matherton unmasked for the vile seducer he is," she muttered.
"Sweet is revenge, especially to women," murmured Jack. "Or so says Lord Byron, upon whom all you ladies seem to dote."
"Lord Byron is a very astute observer of human nature," replied Harriet.
"And a man very familiar with vice."
Theo sighed. "Yes, but any man who pens a poem like 'She walks in Beauty Like the Night' can be forgiven a multitude of sins."
"Matherton will pay for his sins," pointed out Rafael, before the conversation could veer off from the subject at hand. He, too, loved literature but for now they had real life drama to deal with. "Perhaps not with public shame, but what matters is he'll no longer be a predator in gentleman's clothes, free to prey on an unsuspecting young lady."
"I confess, I am curious as to how you managed to uncover the proof of Matherton's gambling debts and the affidavit from Berkeley concerning the cheating at cards," said Jack. "You had only a day in Town, and while I know your skill at ferreting out vital information during wartime, what you faced was no easy task." A grin. "Don't tell me love has given you supernatural powers."
Rafael and Kyra had shared the news of their engagement with their friends, with the strict admonition that it must remain a secret until the evening of the ball.
"Don't needle them," chided Harriet. "You may have no poetry in your soul, but love is not a sentiment to be mocked."
"I was teasing, not mocking. There is a difference," said Jack. "And by the by, since when have you become a staunch defender of fluttery hearts and flowery poems? You are usually far more sarcastic than I am about amour."
Harriet colored, but before she could answer Kyra quickly intervened. "You may tease me and Rafael to your heart's content, Jack. I expect no less. But at the moment, we have more serious things to discuss."
"As to your question," interjected Rafael, "My trip involved no magic incantations, merely a trip to Horse Guards. Anthony Harding, our old comrade, is in charge of coordinating military intelligence both at home and abroad. The position gives him access to a great many networks of information. And as he owed me a favor or two, he was willing to help, especially when he heard that Matherton is a thoroughly dirty dish."
Theo shifted on the sofa. "That was excellent thinking, sir. So rather than us having to create any dramatic scene, you mean to simply take Matherton aside at some point during the festivities, show him the proofs you have of his perfidy, and suggest that he better decamp for the Continent if he wishes to avoid having you call in his vowels."
"That was perhaps the cleverest thing of all, to have purchased all his debts from his creditors," mused Jack. "You can ruin him in the blink of an eye."
"It must have cost you a fortune," said Kyra. "I—"
"Peace of mind can't be measured in pounds and pence. And I assure you, I could well afford the price."
"Then we'll speak no more of it," said Jack decisively. "What we do need to discuss is strategy for the next few days. Matherton will be attending the supper party given by Lady Theo's aunt and uncle tonight. What do you wish for our two stalwart lady co-conspirators to do?"
"Nothing so dangerous as to offer yourself as bait," replied Rafael as he locked eyes with Harriet. "Simply make a point of gossiping about a mystery engagement that will be announced at the ball. Coy hints about it likely being the duke's daughter will stir speculation, and serve to make Matherton confident that all is going according to his plans."
"Overconfident, we hope," added Theo.
He nodded.
"That seems simple enough." Harriet sounded a trifle disappointed, but to her credit she didn't complain. "And the night of the ball?"
"There should," he answered with a faint smile, "be even less call for action—other than dancing. I suggest you simply enjoy the festivities."
"I wish..." began Kyra before faltering into silence again.
"Wish what?" inquired Harriet.
Her mouth tugging into a rueful grimace, Kyra shook her head. "Never mind, it was a silly thought."
"Nonetheless, I should like to hear it," pressed Rafael. "In battle, we soldiers learn to pay attention to our instincts."
"Now I feel even more foolish," she murmured. "It's nothing I can articulate—it's just a wish that this were all over."
"It soon will be, querida."
The endearment slipped out of its own accord. Harriet and Theo both ducked their heads to hide a grin, but Jack, as was his wont, was less tactful.
"Wishing for the end," he quipped. "And yearning for the beginning." A theatrical sigh punctuated his words. "Of married life, that is, and all the delights it offers."
Kyra turned beet red.
"Just because you have no poetry in your soul doesn't mean you have to put Kyra to blush for feeling so happy," chided Harriet.
"She knows me well enough not to understand my peculiar sense of humor."
"That does not mean she appreciates it."
Jack opened his mouth to retort, and then shut it. "You see," he said through clenched teeth. "I am capable of exercising discretion when I put my mind to it."
Theo smothered a laugh.
"Though clearly it is a sore trial," said Kyra. "Do stop that grinding. Your molar
s sound in danger of cracking."
"Et tu, Brutus?"
Harriet exaggerated a gasp of surprise. "Good Heavens, he might not appreciate Byron's poetry, but at least he had read some of the Bard's plays."
Seeing the tension melt from Kyra's face as she joined in the banter, Rafael decided that Jack deserved more credit for astute observation than he usually received. His outrageous teasing had distracted her from her worries about Matherton and helped her relax. Whether Harriet understood was he was doing and was playing the foil to his rapier was a question...
But at present, it was not one he was at liberty to mull over.
"Perhaps he has only seen it on the stage," suggested Kyra. "I am not entirely convinced that Jack know how to read. There were an awful lot of 'No Trespassing' signs he blatantly ignored when we were out gallivanting across the countryside."
Heaving a gusty sigh, Jack rose. "On that note, perhaps I should take my leave, before my character is further savaged."
"Oh, look—he knows how to make a dramatic exit, too," murmured Harriet.
He tried to look offended but amusement danced in his eyes.
"Let us hope we have no drama in the next few days save for this playacting," said Theo.
* * *
"Are you nervous?"
Rafael smoothed the last folds of his cravat into place before turning around from the cheval glass. "Should I be?"
The evening of the ball had finally arrived, and rather than trepidation, he felt only a sense of calm purpose.
"One always feels a flutter of butterflies in one's belly just before battle," replied Jack with a grin. "You're not only crossing swords with a villain but also announcing your betrothal—assuming the duke gives you his blessing instead of tossing you into the frog pond. That might make even St. George a little knock-kneed. After all, he merely had to slay a dragon."
"I may not be a saint," quipped Rafael. "But trust me, Evil doesn't stand a chance tonight. Besides, I am confident that Matherton will have no weapon to counter the documents I now possess, so rather than a battle, I expect him to flee without a fight. As for the duke..." He brushed a shock of hair back from his brow. "If I can't convince him that I love his daughter, then I don't deserve her."
"His Grace can be a very intimidating fellow," murmured his cousin. "My ears are still scorched from several of the set-downs he gave me."
"I don't intend to pilfer a dozen bottles of his most costly champagne from the wine cellar, so the meeting won't begin with him belching fire and brimstone."
"But you are planning to ride off into the golden glow of the sunset with his daughter."
"You have been reading too many of Mrs. Radcliffe's horrid novels," countered Rafael. "That happened in The Italian. In case you have forgotten, I am Spanish, and thus will do things a little differently."
"Half Spanish," corrected Jack. "Your hot Latin blood is tempered with the ice of Nordic Vikings. Which probably accounts for why you are so cool in the heat of battle." A pause. "I still say you may need that sang froid when you face His Grace."
"I don't plan to melt under his gaze."
"Aye, I suppose we've faced too many baptisms by fire to fear the ire of a father, even if he is a duke." Jack shifted slightly, "One last thing—are you planning to confront Matherton unarmed?"
"A weapon would ruin the cut of my evening coat." Eying the bulge in his cousin's coat pocket, he grinned. "Speaking of which, you need to make a few last-minute sartorial adjustments. As the guest of honor, you ought not appear looking like an itinerate peddler."
"My attire shall look faultless." Jack withdrew a small turn-off pocket pistol from its hiding place. "As for you, I suggest that fashion give way to prudence."
"I don't need that," he said flatly.
"Nonetheless, you'll take it. Matherton is a poisonous snake, and has fangs. Don't underestimate how dangerous such a reptile can be."
Though tempted to refuse, Rafael relented and accepted the weapon. Slipping it inside his waistband, he tugged the front of his coat back into place. "There. Now that I have humored you, are we ready to be off?"
"But of course. It wouldn't do to be late to the party."
* * *
"How nice to see the Manor alive with lights and colors," murmured the duke. He paused at the entrance to the ballroom, his gaze sweeping over the glittering chandeliers and profusion of pastel blooms before he turned to smile at Kyra. "The flower arrangements look magnificent, my dear. Indeed, everything looks perfect. This will be an evening to remember."
"Jack deserves no less," she said softly.
"True," he replied, a twinkle of candlelight reflecting from the diamond-paned windows to add a touch of sparkle to his eyes. "But I think he would agree that what we are really celebrating is family and friends."
And the love that ties us all together, thought Kyra. Heeding Rafael's words of caution that they must be mindful of doing nothing to put Matherton on guard, she decided not to say it aloud. But when the clock chimed midnight...
Stealing a glance at her father's profile, she had a feeling he needed no words to sense the happiness bubbling up inside her.
The duke gave the room one more appraising look, then cleared his throat with a brusque cough. "I wish your mother could see how lovely you look tonight. And Lexy. They would both be so proud of you."
Kyra blinked back tears, but managed a smile. "I shall try to be worthy of their memory, Papa."
"You already are. And more, my dear." He took a small oblong box from his pocket and opened it. "This was your mother's."
Nestled on a bed of midnight blue velvet was a simple strand of perfectly matched pearls with a teardrop emerald pendant.
"I had planned on giving it to you on your betrothal to Matherton, but, well, I confess that something held me back."
"W-Why now?" she asked.
"Oh, let us just say that it feels like the right moment." The duke undid the gold clasp and carefully fastened it around her neck. "It suits you very well." His voice turned husky with emotion. "You look like a fairie princess."
"I'm even luckier—I'm a duke's daughter."
Her father gave her a quick hug before stepping back with a gruff chuckle. "Heaven forbid that I crumple that ethereal ballgown, so I shall refrain from a more crushing embrace. The silk and ruffles look like they are made out of spun sugar."
Her clothing might be delicate, but Kyra no longer felt fragile.
"Now, I had better get Gorman and make one last check that all is in order in the wine cellar. The guests will be arriving soon."
The duke set off down the corridor, and Kyra was about to follow when a flutter of the draperies at the far end of the ballroom caught her eye. The heavy gold-threaded damask fabric moved again in the breeze, revealing a scattering of pale pink petals on the dark dance floor.
Hurrying across the polished parquet, she found that one of the vases on the decorative plinth had tipped over, spilling the carefully arranged flowers. The latch must have come loose in the breeze, she decided, allowing the brass casement to swing open.
"Damnation." The damage could be covered up by rearranging the other vases, and no one would be the wiser. But the symmetry would be ruined, and she wanted everything to be just right.
Kyra hesitated. The hothouses were only a short distance away. If she went out through the music room and cut across the back terrace, it would take no more than ten minutes to replace the bouquet. She stared down at the pristine hem of her gown. It would likely not survive the trip outdoors unscathed.
"What does it matter if a bit of grass and mud clings to my skirts," she murmured. "After all, I'm a slightly soiled dove, so it's an apt metaphor." In the past, the thought would have greatly upset her, but now it only provoked a rueful smile. Let the gossips titter over lurid speculations if they wished. She wanted every last detail to be perfect for Jack.
And for Rafael.
Hitching up her gown, she hurried through the side salon and made
her way out to the graveled walkway leading past the conservatory. The nightingales had struck up their evening serenade, and the soft song wafted through the swaying branches of the high privet hedge. As she rounded the bend leading off to the hothouses, a dark shape burst out from the glade copper beeches, startling her into a stumble.
"Woof."
"Oh fie, you naughty hound," Kyra scolded, once she had steadied her nerves. "How did you slip away from Anna?" Her maid had promised to keep Hero—and his over exuberant paws—away from the festivities, but clearly he had other ideas.
He wagged his tail and with a canine grin appeared to be eyeing the tails of her satin sash.
"This is no time for rough-and-tumble games. One snap of your teeth, one swipe of those muddy paws and you'll be on a diet of bread and water for the next month!"
Hero pricked up his ears and obediently fell in step beside her, close but not too close.
"I see you are a very intelligent dog," she added with a light laugh. "You've learned your lessons well—"
"Unlike his mistress." Matherton darted out from the trees and grabbed rough hold of her arm. "I guessed that you would be stupid enough to come fetch new flowers to replace the ones I knocked over."
She tried to pull free, but his hand tightened like a vise around her flesh. "And call off your cur." He brandished a spiked cudgel as Hero bared his teeth and gave a menacing growl. "Or I'll bash the beast's skull."
"No, Hero!" she rasped. "Back! Back!"
The hound retreated, just out of arm's reach.
"What madness is this, sir—" she began, but her former fiancé silenced her with a hard shake.
"Stubble the chatter," he snapped. "I warned you that there would be consequences if you defied me."
"I haven't—"
"Liar!" He rapped his cudgel against the vase in her hands, shattering the delicate porcelain. "I've learned that Spanish half-breed has been sniffing around London, asking questions about my affairs."
Sweeter Than Sin Page 17
