Only a Duchess Would Dare

by Amelia Grey

  “All right,” Blake said, his concerned gaze darting from one cousin to the other. “In that case, one of you best speak up quickly and tell me what’s going on.”

  “It’s Gibby,” Race said. “I was in the park less than half an hour ago and while I was there, a man named Steven Prattle approached Gibby and challenged him to a duel.”

  “What the devil?” Blake said.

  Race handed Blake a glass of the dark red wine and said, “It’s true.”

  “You were there and heard the challenge?” Blake asked with an incredulous expression on his face.

  “Every blasted word.”

  “Well, why in the hell didn’t you stop him?”

  If only he knew.

  Race was getting tired of the accusations, but losing his temper with his cousins wouldn’t help solve this problem.

  A tired half chuckle escaped Race’s lips. “Give me some credit, Blake. It’s not as if I wasn’t trying like the devil himself to stop the whole thing. Do you think I want to see Gibby having a boxing match at his age?”

  “Boxing?” Morgan asked.

  Blake edged closer to Race. “With bare-knuckle fists?”

  “Yes,” Race admitted. “As farfetched as it sounds, the man gave Gib his choice of weapons, and the old dandy chose his fists.”

  “You can’t fight a duel by pugilism,” Morgan exclaimed. “That’s outrageous. What kind of tomfoolery are you asking us to believe, Race?”

  “The cold, hard facts, Morgan,” Race said, raising his voice, too.

  “All right, calm down both of you,” Blake said. “Just start at the beginning, Race. What were you and Gibby doing when he was challenged?”

  “Having a conversation. I was there with the duchess, and I saw Gibby with a group of people who were waiting to see a man crawl into a cage with a tiger.”

  Morgan’s gaze zeroed in on Race’s face. “You were there with the duchess?”

  “Yes,” Race said innocently. “I took her for a ride in the park.”

  “What duchess?” Blake asked, his gaze sweeping from one cousin to the other.

  “That’s right,” Morgan said with a sudden twinkle in his eyes. “You didn’t meet her, did you?” Morgan turned to Race. “And you haven’t mentioned her to Blake?”

  “It’s been only three days since I met her,” Race said, unable to hide his annoyance at being hammered with questions about Susannah and Gibby. “I haven’t seen Blake until now. He’s married, remember? He’s not attending the parties as often or visiting the clubs at night as he used to.”

  Confusion wrinkled Blake’s brow and screwed up his lips before he asked, “What duchess are you two talking about, and what were you doing in the park with her?”

  “Obviously, he was courting her, but what he was courting her for I don’t know.”

  “Morgan,” Race said in a warning voice.

  “Duchesses are usually married to a duke. What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into?” Blake asked.

  “She’s the Dowager Duchess of Blooming. Ever heard of her?”

  “I can speak for myself, Morgan.”

  Morgan gave him a dry smile. “Of course, my apologies, Race.”

  “I’ve met the Duke of Blooming a couple of times,” Blake said. “I can’t say I know him well. He seldom comes to London. Why were you with his mother?”

  Morgan chuckled deep in his throat.

  Race shook his head in exasperation.

  Blake’s eyes narrowed suddenly, and he said, “No, wait, if I remember correctly, the dowager duchess isn’t his mother. She is his father’s second wife, or maybe she was the third wife, but I was told she was much younger than he was. I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

  “Probably not,” Race said.

  “Take my word for it,” Morgan added. “You would have remembered if you’d met her. She is as beautiful as Henrietta but not quite as young. I’d say she’s about our age, thirtyish, wouldn’t you, Race?”

  Morgan was being impossible. “Yes. And if you had met her, it would have probably been somewhere other than here. This is her first visit to London in twelve years.”

  “That long? Sounds like she is as reclusive as her husband when he was alive. You were in the park with a beautiful woman, and Gibby was challenged to a duel? What else has been going on since I married that I don’t know about? I can’t believe you two have been keeping all this news from me.”

  “It’s not as if we wanted to or intended to, Blake. It’s just that you aren’t as accessible as you used to be.”

  “I live less than a mile from the both of you, and I damn well expect that one of you will stop by once in a while and fill me in on what’s happening in my own family.”

  “Can we please get back to Gibby and the fight?” Race asked in an irritable voice. “The challenge happened less than an hour ago, so it’s not as though days have passed concerning Gibby. Right now, his situation is more important than the duchess or your hurt feelings.”

  Blake growled. “My feelings aren’t hurt. I’m angry I was left out.”

  “I agree that we do need to discuss Gibby,” Morgan added. “But there’s one more thing about the duchess that Blake needs to know before we quit the subject. She wants Race to hand over our grandmother’s pearls to her.”

  “What?” Blake asked, clearly taken aback by this news.

  “Yes,” Morgan continued. “She says they were stolen from her family and wants Blake to give them back.”

  “What gall! Would you two blackguards not keep things like this from me ever again? Even if I am married, I still want to know what is happening.”

  Race suddenly felt as though he was back in the park again. He wasn’t having any better luck keeping control of the conversation with these two than he had with Gibby and Prattle.

  “All right, you’ve made that clear already, Blake. Morgan, you’ve said enough. Now, would both of you please sit down so we can get back to Gibby? The duchess and the pearls can wait.”

  Grumbling to themselves, his cousins took the two upholstered wing chairs that flanked a small circular table, and Race sat in the middle of the flower-printed settee facing them.

  “I’ll make this simple for you. Mr. Steven Prattle’s sister, Penelope, accused Gibby of compromising her at Lord Tinkerton’s party last night.”

  “Gibby?” Blake exclaimed. “No way in hell. That didn’t happen, I’m sure of it, but start at the beginning and tell us everything.”

  Race briefly filled them in on all that happened in the park, leaving out only the part about his kissing the duchess when he took her home. Contrary to what his cousins thought, he did not have to tell them everything.

  “And you couldn’t persuade Gibby to give up this preposterous idea of a boxing match?”

  Race drained his wine glass and placed it on the rosewood table in front of him. “No. I think Prattle might have been convinced to forget this idea if I could have persuaded Gibby, but Gib had whipped the crowd into a frenzy to get them on his side. They were with him all the way, shouting ‘fight’ at him over and over again. You can’t imagine what it was like.”

  “What in the devil made Gib want to box the man like a bruiser?” Blake asked, shaking his head.

  “Who knows what goes through that strange mind of his? It’s clear we have to figure out a way to get Gibby out of this and let him save face, too.”

  “Usually the only way that is done is by marrying the lady in question,” Morgan offered.

  “Do either of you know of her?” Blake asked.

  “I’m thinking she’s one of the spinsters who usually sit around the dance floor at the Great Hall,” Morgan said. “Seems she’s rather tall and buxom and maybe about fifty years old. Do either of you think Gibby wants to marry her?”

  Race was the first to answe
r. “I wouldn’t think so. He certainly never made an indication he wanted to marry anyone. You both know that he’s always maintained that the only woman he has ever loved or wanted to marry was our grandmother.”

  “I agree,” Blake said. “What exactly did he have to say for himself?”

  Race sighed. “He didn’t say anything other than he had been on the portico with Prattle’s sister.”

  “I bet Prattle loved hearing that.”

  “You can’t even imagine the rage the man was in,” Race said. “I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head and his buttons burst off his waistcoat. If two bystanders hadn’t grabbed Prattle and held him back, he would have attacked Gibby right then and there.”

  “All right, one thing he can do is marry the woman,” Blake offered, “but we all agree he probably doesn’t want to do that, especially if he didn’t compromise her.”

  All three men nodded.

  “He can go through with the fight, and we can hope he won’t get hurt,” Morgan offered.

  “No,” Race and Blake said in unison.

  “We have to do something,” Morgan reasoned. “I don’t want to see Gibby boxing a man either, even if they are close to the same age, but bare-knuckle fighting probably wouldn’t kill him the way a sword or pistol could if Prattle decided to do something stupid.”

  “I agree, but that seems as distasteful as getting caught in parson’s mousetrap,” Blake said.

  “We all know that Miss Prattle could have made this whole thing up in hopes Gibby would be forced to marry her.”

  Race nodded. “That’s very possible.”

  “All right, I suggest we offer them a reasonable sum of money,” Morgan said. “The brother and his sister. It’s the quickest, safest, and easiest way to settle the matter.”

  “I agree,” Race said. “None of us believe Gibby would have intentionally compromised the woman, but if for some reason she felt he crossed the line while he was on the portico with her, then she will at least be compensated for whatever injury she feels he caused.”

  “It’s a good idea only if Gibby, Prattle, and his sister go for it,” Blake injected. “Do either of you know the man well enough to approach him?”

  Morgan and Race shook their heads.

  “I thought as much,” Blake said. “The plan sounds good to me. And, Race, I believe it’s your turn to take care of Gib.”

  “Oh no, not me,” Race complained.

  “Yes, you. I just finished getting him out of that ridiculous balloon venture he was tangled up in a few weeks ago, and Morgan recently got his money back for him from that blasted time machine invention he was so crazy about a few months ago.”

  Race had a sinking feeling in his stomach. Somehow he had known they would leave it up to him to handle this.

  “All right, I’ll see if I can get Gibby to agree to us talking to Prattle.”

  “If he agrees, and they take the offer, we need say no more about this,” Blake offered.

  “There might be a few disgruntled people who wanted to see a fight, but soon a new scandal will come along and everyone will forget about this one.”

  Morgan finished off his drink. “There are always new scandals on the horizon.”

  “Now tell me more about the duchess,” Blake said.

  Race tensed. He didn’t want to talk about her. He wanted to keep her all to himself. He couldn’t ever remember feeling that way about any other woman. He didn’t know why she was different; he knew only that she was and he didn’t want to discuss Susannah with them.

  “It’s a fascinating story,” Morgan began when Race didn’t speak up immediately. He rose and walked over to the sideboard. “She arrived unannounced at Race’s card party, which you missed by the way.”

  “Sorry about missing that, Race. We had good intentions of coming. It would have been Henrietta’s first card party, but we, ah—she—I mean…”

  “You’re forgiven,” Race said with a laugh, getting Blake out of the corner into which he’d backed himself.

  “So you invited her to your card party? How did you know she was in Town? And what’s this about her claiming Grandmother’s pearls belong to her family?”

  “That’s part of the irony of this entire story,” Morgan said, speaking for Race once again. “Race didn’t invite her. He had never even heard of her until she arrived at his door and demanded to see him.”

  “It wasn’t a demand,” Race countered.

  “I distinctly remember you thought so at the time.”

  “Morgan, that’s enough,” Race muttered.

  “Oh, quite right,” he said sarcastically. “I keep forgetting it’s your story to tell. I’ll just end my part of it by saying I can’t believe she’s been hiding up in Blooming all these years, unless of course she had a very good reason to stay there.”

  Race threw imaginary daggers at Morgan’s chest.

  “So you took her to the park today,” Blake said. “My, my, things are moving fast, but tell me more about her claim. I knew you had some unsavory men asking about the pearls. By the way, I saw that fop Captain Spyglass last night. He was at the Great Hall, dancing with every young lady whose mother would let him near her daughter.”

  Morgan grunted. “I can’t figure out why any of them would. It’s all over London that he obtained his wealth by pirating ships.”

  “But not proven,” Race added.

  “It must be the secrecy that surrounds him that intrigues the ladies,” Morgan said, picking up the claret decanter. “I suppose that’s why people invite him to their parties. For some damned reason, they think it adds an element of danger and mystery to their lives to be associated with a man who might very well be a real pirate.”

  “And all it really adds is an unsavory character into their lives,” Blake inserted.

  The cousins laughed.

  “So tell me more about why the dowager thinks our grandmother’s pearls belong to her family.”

  “She says they were stolen more than twenty-five years ago,” Morgan said.

  “Morgan, do you mind if I tell this story?”

  “No, please do,” he said innocently. “You tell it. I’ll pour myself another glass of wine.”

  Race had said all he was going to say about Susannah or the pearls. “There’s nothing more to tell.”

  “That means she is as secretive about her past as is Captain Spyglass,” Morgan said, “but Race decided he didn’t want to know about it from anyone but her. However, I would like to know anything you can tell me, Blake.”

  Race started toward Morgan and then stopped. “Blast it, Morgan, would you just get your wine and be quiet.”

  “Easy, Race,” Blake said, holding up his hand to stop Race. “I would tell either of you anything I knew. I simply don’t know anything about her, but that said, it wouldn’t take me long to find out.”

  “No,” Race said firmly. “I’m quite capable of finding out anything about her I want to know. And just so you know, Morgan, Gibby met her this afternoon. He knew her husband well.”

  “Hmm. So did you talk to him about her?”

  “Prattle showed up before much was said.”

  “I’m just going to say one last thing,” Morgan said as he recapped the wine decanter.

  “Don’t,” Race and Blake said at the same time.

  Morgan laughed and then said, “Race is going to have a quite good time getting to know this beautiful lady and getting to the bottom of why she thinks the pearls belong to her family.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask her?” Blake asked, looking confused.

  Morgan sat back down in his chair and sipped his wine. “That would be too easy. Once he knows that, the intrigue surrounding her will be gone, and he fancies the idea of not knowing.”

  “Go to hell, Morgan.”

  Morgan laughed.
“Be glad to when the time comes, but for now I’m having too much fun on earth.”

  “With a dowager duchess in Town, I’m sure Henrietta will want to invite her to tea. It’s the proper thing for her to do.”

  “By all means,” Race said with a confident smile and relaxed into the settee.

  He wasn’t worried about Susannah meeting Blake’s wife, the Duchess of Blakewell. He had the feeling Henrietta wouldn’t get any more information out of the duchess than he had.

  Seven

  My Grandson Alexander,

  I was reading one of Lord Chesterfield’s letters today and found this extraordinary quote from him. Read this with interest: “He who flatters women most, pleases them best; and they are most in love with him, who they think is the most in love with them. No adulation is too strong for them, no assiduity too great, no simulation of passion too gross; as, on the other hand, the least word or action that can possibly be construed into a slight or contempt is unpardonable and never forgotten.”

  Your loving Grandmother,

  Lady Elder

  Susannah and Mrs. Princeton walked through the front door, laughing.

  “I really can’t believe the judgment of that French dressmaker we talked to earlier today,” Susannah said as she took off her black cape. “It did not take me very long to decide that she will not be designing anything for me.”

  Mrs. Princeton set her packages on the floor beside her and began taking off her outdoor clothing. “Some ladies go for the more extreme styles of diaphanous fabrics for evening and wide stripes for day.”

  “Hmm, and very vivid colors, too, but they are not for me. I prefer simple lines, pastel shades, and basic fabrics. Thankfully, I didn’t have to choose a dressmaker today. I can interview more modistes later in the week. However, I am very pleased about my purchase of the pianoforte,” Susannah said with a smile, untying the ribbons on her straw bonnet. “I can hardly wait for it to be delivered tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t want to say anything in front of the shopkeeper, but what will you do with it when we leave? Do you plan to have someone take it to Chapel Gate for you?”