Ducal Encounters In the Duke’s Estimation

She started at the sound of Frankie’s voice, not having heard her enter the room, and offered her an absent smile. “Yes, just a little overwhelmed with the speed of events, that’s all.”

“You are not ready to give up enjoying yourself and I can’t condemn you for that. You have scarcely been in town for five minutes. I hope your father doesn’t intend to steal you away from me already.”

Katrina knew she would most likely break down in tears if she was compelled to articulate her feelings. For goodness’ sake, she inwardly chastised, she had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She was guaranteed a life of consequence and luxury even if she did not especially like or respect the man she was destined to marry. She was not the first lady to enter into matrimony with a man not of her choosing, and to the best of her knowledge none of those who had preceded her into that unfortunate state had died of a broken heart. She would just have to make the best of it, keep herself occupied and not waste time with regrets.

She glanced at Frankie and could see genuine concern in her expression, which was almost Katrina’s undoing. She felt tears brimming and turned quickly away.

“Excuse me for a moment, Frankie.”

Without waiting for a response, Katrina ran up the stairs and shut herself in her room, in urgent need of solitude in which to reflect upon her situation. She sat in the window seat for some time, watching the comings and goings in the street below her without really noticing them, slowly composing herself. She would marry Mr. Brown rather than disappoint Papa but she would also insist that the marriage itself be postponed until she had seen Papa comfortably settled back at Heston Hall. She was sure the house must be in urgent need of a complete overhaul. From what Nate had told her, it had received little attention during the past ten years. Papa might think it an unnecessary expense but she would insist. If they were to live there—she, Papa and Mr. Brown—then they might as well consider their creature comforts. Besides, it would give her a purpose. Something useful to do to distract her from her regrets.

There, she had spent at least half an hour considering her future, planning for it, and not once allowing her thoughts to linger upon Nathaniel Sheridan’s compelling magnetism and seductive charm. Consequently her tears had receded and she felt quite herself again. One errant tear did manage to slide down her cheek but she brushed it impatiently away, checked her reflection and patted her curls back into place.

As ready as she would ever be to face Frankie’s concern, Katrina made her way downstairs again.

“I was longer than I thought I would be, Frankie,” she said as she walked into the drawing room. “I should not have…oh, Lord Nate.” Her heart did a strange little flip as she saw him standing there, looking suave and sophisticated in his pristine evening clothes—and totally out of her reach. That thought ought to have soothed her. Instead it only made her ache with regret. “I did not hear you arrive.”

“Lady Katrina,” he replied, matching her formality. “I came to see how you are.”

“And I have a letter to write, if you will excuse me,” Frankie said, leaving the room before Katrina could ask her to stay. And she had wanted her to stay, really she had. It would be better for everyone if she was not left alone with Nate. In her current unsettled state and with Nate dominating the room with his commanding presence, she could easily make a complete fool of herself.

He watched her as she battled with her conscience, an impassive expression she found impossible to interpret gracing his rugged features. Katrina, for want of something better to do, took a seat beside the fire, indicated to him that he should take its twin and then clasped her hands together nervously in her lap. What was he really doing here? That he had come specifically to see her and that Frankie was somehow responsible for his appearance was not in question. What she expected to gain from her interference was less obvious.

Katrina couldn’t think of anything to say and so remained silent, the atmosphere taut with the silent awareness of shared sensibility. His unnerving stillness, his deep probing gaze unsettled her almost as much as the nervous warmth that assaulted her senses and made her ache for what could never be.

“Your father has returned,” he said, the earthy tones of his vibrant voice jolting her from her reverie. It was not a question and she responded with a nod.

“Yes, this afternoon.”

“He’s well, I trust.”

Katrina frowned. “Actually, I’m not sure that he is. He looks tired and drawn but claims there is nothing wrong with him. Still, I worry. I shall insist that he sees a doctor.”

“You intend to return to Jacobs Well directly?”

“No, not immediately. Papa must stay in London for a week or two until he has made his reports to the Foreign Office.”

“I see.” He crossed one leg elegantly across his opposite thigh and fixed her with a considering look. “You will enjoy remaining with Lady St. John for a little longer then?”

“Unfortunately not. Papa intends to rent an apartment close to Westminster for us both.”

He elevated one brow. “Is that necessary?”

She lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. “Apparently so.”

She found it hard to look at him and concentrated her gaze instead upon the flames leaping in the fireplace. If she looked at his beautifully sculpted mouth she would recall just how ardently she had enjoyed being kissed by him. If she met his gaze he might interpret the melancholy lurking just beneath her artificially bright expression and guess her secret. If he so much as touched her, all would most definitely be lost.

“He still wants you to marry Brown?”

She sighed. “Oh yes, he still wants me to do that.” Finally she found the strength to lift her gaze to his face and the courage to lie to him. “And I look forward to complying with his wishes.”

Katrina wasn’t sure what reaction she had been expecting but it certainly wasn’t the one that Nate came up with. He threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Ha! Has anyone ever told you that you’re the worst liar in Christendom?”

Really, the arrogance of the man! “I am not in the habit of telling untruths,” she replied huffily.

“Then why practise doing so on me?” he asked, fixing her with an intent gaze.

“What makes you suppose that I am?”

“I have seen Brown and…” Dear God, he was caressing her with his eyes and she reacted to the gesture somewhere deep within her core. Her face warmed. He hadn’t actually touched her but just by looking at her in a particular manner he could reduce her to a jumble of nerves, need and uncertainty. “And I have kissed you. I know how passionate you are by nature. A man like Brown could never satisfy that passion and well you know it.”

Somehow she had to convince him he was wrong, and she had to do it quickly; then he would leave. She wasn’t strong enough to withstand his charm campaign for long. Nor could she pretend an affection for Brown that did not exist, not with him because he would be impossible to convince. Especially when all she really wanted to do was bury herself in the safe circle of his strong arms and let the world and its problems disappear.

But such action was out of the question of course. It all came back to Papa and his expectations of her. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she disappointed him. And why would she inflict hurt upon her beloved parent when it was impossible for her to marry the man she loved? The man sitting directly across from her, pinioning her with a penetrating gaze that promised pure pleasure, disconcerting yet exciting her. He had never indicated that his affections were engaged or mentioned one word about taking Brown’s place. Which begged the question, was why he was here at all? After all, he had made a point of avoiding her these past few days since Vauxhall, which told her all she needed to know about his intentions, or lack thereof.

More to the point, Katrina thought, why had Frankie thought it necessary to send for him?

“Passion is overrated,” she said in a casual tone that sounded less than convincing.

“Really?” He elevated one brow in a lazy gesture that implied he was totally in command of himself. Well, he would be. He wasn’t the one who was in love. “Is that your father’s opinion or your own?”

Katrina tossed her head, sending errant curls dancing across her shoulders. “Papa and I think alike on most subjects.”

“Good?” She was irritated now. “One minute you say Brown isn’t right for me. The next you’re glad that I’m following Papa’s advice. Not that my affairs are any of your business but if you insist upon discussing them, do me the service of making up your mind.”

Her fit of pique caused him to chuckle. “You’re charming when you lose control.”

“I am in perfect command of myself, I thank you.”

His eyes glistened with amusement but he didn’t challenge a statement that he could probably see was patently untrue. “Perhaps you do not understand your father’s character as well as you think you do,” he remarked instead.

“Good heavens!” It was Katrina’s turn to raise a brow. “Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“Precisely what it implies.”

He stood up, reached for her left hand, the fingers of which were tapping a nervous tattoo on the arm of her chair and pulled her to her feet. She swallowed down her anguish, her excitement, her bitter disappointment. Clearly he had decided to take his leave.

“Look me in the eye and convince me that you really do wish to marry Brown. I will not ask you to tell me you love him since I know you do not. Just make me believe you really do wish to marry him and I will be the first to wish you joy.”

As his fingers closed around her palm rational thought disintegrated into pure sensation. That was all it took. Really she was a lost cause. She struggled to remember what it was he had asked of her and how she was supposed to respond. Ah yes, all she was required to do was to tell the biggest lie of her life. Her fate would then be sealed and Nate would walk out of her life.

She formulated the words in her mind but instead of speaking them she made the mistake of glancing up at him. Dark flames leapt in eyes trained directly upon her, passion swirling in their murky depths. A gasp slipped past her guard and she was unable to persuade those carefully formulated words past the lump in her throat.

“I thought not!”

With a triumphant smile he reached for her and pulled her into his arms. Katrina knew she should resist him but fell willingly against him, too shallow to resist his compelling allure. She rested her cheek on his broad shoulder, breathing in the musky masculine aroma that was uniquely him and closing her eyes as she endeavoured to commit the moment to memory.

It would have to be enough to sustain her for the rest of her life.

“It doesn’t matter what I feel,” she said, sighing. “I cannot disappoint Papa and there’s an end to the matter.”

“Perhaps you will not be put in that position.”

She lifted her head from his shoulder and tilted it backwards so she could look up into his face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I cannot tell you immediately. All I can do is ask you to trust me and not commit yourself to anything quite yet.”

“Very well.” She frowned. “But what will that achieve and why are you so intent upon involving yourself in my affairs?”

“Oh, sweet Katrina.” He tucked an errant curl behind her ear and ran the fingers of one hand lightly down her cheek. “Do you really need to ask?”

Nate strode back to Sheridan House with a spring in his step, wondering how he had resisted the almost overwhelming urge to kiss Katrina witless. Confusion duelling with unguarded passion had made her seem like temptation incarnate. However, before he could give free rein to his desires he must first endeavour to extricate her from marriage to a man who was decidedly unworthy of her.

A man whom she neither loved nor respected.

Zach had escorted his mother to a party that evening and so Nate had Sheridan House to himself. As soon as he arrived he had Faraday summon Walker. That worthy had been comfortably ensconced in the servants’ hall since being removed from his surveillance of Katrina’s activities. By all accounts, he had made himself agreeable and was proving popular with the servants. Faraday reported that he was perfectly willing to make himself useful, adding disapprovingly that he had set half the female servants’ hearts fluttering with his good looks, easy manners and wildly exaggerated stories.

“You wished to see me, my lord,” Walker said, strolling into Zach’s library and offering Nate an elegant bow.

“Heston’s back in England,” Nate replied without preamble. “Which means Brown must be back also.”

“That’s a shame. I was rather enjoying myself here.”

Nate couldn’t help smiling at his lack of guile. “How will he contact you?” he asked.

“He’ll go to my lodgings, most likely.”

“Ah, will anyone tell him you’ve not slept there the past few nights?”

Walker grinned. “It’s not that sort of boarding house, my lord. When he fails to discover me there he will look for me in the taverns I’m known to frequent.”

“Right. Go back to your rooms immediately and wait for him there,” Nate said, not wanting the man in his cups, or worse, engrossed in a game of cards.

“What shall I tell him?”

“That you have been watching Lady Katrina as instructed, but gave up your post when you saw Heston arrive in Park Street this afternoon. It is, after all, on Heston’s orders that you’re supposed to be watching his daughter. You can truthfully report all of Lady Katrina’s activities, except the expedition to Vauxhall. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly so,” Walker replied with a flash of the easy charm that had so affected the household’s maids.

“Don’t let me down, Walker,” Nate warned, fixing the man with a steely gaze. “It would be a grave error to make enemies of my family. If, on the other hand, you serve us well, it can only benefit your circumstances.”

“I shall do as you ask. I don’t like Brown. No one at Westminster has much time for him and I owe him no loyalty.”

“Good man.” Nate stood and slapped his shoulder. “When you’ve seen Brown and are sure he’s clear of your rooms, come back here and let me know how it went. But, for the love of God, make sure you’re not followed.”

Two hours later Walker returned.

“He was waiting for me when I got back,” he said. “Most anxious he was to know what was what. He no longer pretended it was Lord Heston who wanted the information either. He was most put out when I told him about your skating expedition. Didn’t like it at all and cross-questioned me about the number of times you’ve called at Park Street. Brown’s a bit of a cold fish but he was right worked up about you.”

Nate furrowed his brow but said nothing.

“Did he give you further instructions?”

“Only that I was to return to my duties tomorrow.” Walker patted his pocket. “He paid me handsomely, though. I know how tight he can be so I wouldn’t say a word until he did. Didn’t trust him to keep his word, you see.”

Nate chuckled, unable to help liking the man. “Right then, you’d best do as you were told and go back to work.”

Walker sighed. “No peace for the indentured.”

“You can stay here tonight if you like and leave in the morning.”

“Right you are.”

“One more thing, Walker. Do you happen to know where Brown lives?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I had to deliver some government papers to him once. He has two rooms at the front on the top floor of a house in Duke Street.” He gave Nate the exact address.

“Right, thank you Walker, that will be all.”

Nate arose earlier than usual the following day. Satisfied that Brown would already be hard at work at the Foreign Office, he made his way to Duke Street and easily located the house in which Brown resided. There were no signs of life, reinforcing Nate’s opinion that such dwellings located so close to Westminster would be occupied by men of Brown’s ilk—senior clerks and the like employed in the government’s service.

He entered Brown’s building without seeing anyone or being challenged and took the stairs two at a time. He put his ear to what had to be Brown’s door but heard no sounds coming from within. He knocked, just to be on the safe side. When no one answered he set about disabling the lock. It was a skill he remembered from his school days when leaving the locked premises at night without permission resulted in a caning if one did not learn to be inventive.

He entered a cold, sparsely furnished sitting room and took a moment to assess his surroundings. The place, fitted out with old mismatched furniture, smelt musty. Apart from a few books there was nothing that told Nate anything about the character of the man who occupied it. There was a bundle of official-looking papers on a side table with notations made in a neat hand. Nate flipped through them, wondering why Brown had not taken them with him, but there was nothing that especially excited his interest.

The adjoining bedroom showed signs of Brown having hastily quit it. It also bore traces of recent sexual activity. Nate wrinkled his nose at the odour of cheap perfume that still hung in the air. The fact that the bed had not been made implied that a servant provided that service and might appear at any time. Nate would need to work quickly.

“Now,” he muttered, looking around the rooms speculatively, “where would he keep it?”

Nate had convinced himself that Brown wouldn’t risk keeping whatever he had on Heston constantly on his person. There was every possibility that he might have hidden it somewhere in the archives at Westminster. That was what Nate would have done in his position but he was gambling on Brown wanting the document close at hand, somewhere secure so that he could access it at a moment’s notice. Delving into archives in government offices where anyone might see him and ask awkward questions would, Nate had decided, not suit Brown’s purpose. These rooms, on the other hand, were alive with possibilities.

Nate searched the bedroom first, forcing himself to be methodical. He went through Brown’s clothing, checked the back of the wardrobe for hiding places, and beneath the drawers in his dresser as well as the contents of the drawers themselves. He checked for loose floorboards or hidden cubbyholes built into the walls.

With a sigh, Nate returned to the sitting room, searching it with equal diligence and equally discouraging results. He stood in the centre of the small room, trying to put himself in Brown’s position. Of course, it was possible that he had lodged the document with a solicitor for safe keeping; a circumstance that was looking increasingly likely. Damn it, Nate had been so sure he would want to keep it close at hand! But there was absolutely nothing here.

Reluctantly admitting defeat, Nate concluded he would just have to think of a way to persuade Heston to talk to him about the unfortunate events of his youth. He rolled his eyes at the improbability of succeeding. Heston was hardly likely to incriminate himself. His reputation, the honour of his family name, was everything to him. That he was prepared to sacrifice his daughter to the cove who occupied these dreary rooms in order to maintain it proved the point. No wonder Brown was so keen to get his hands on Heston’s property in Jacobs Well. From what Nate knew of him, his ambition ran beyond living in relative squalor.

Nate’s gaze fell upon the fireplace and an improbability occurred to him. There were the embers of last night’s fire now cold in the grate so Nate had dismissed the chimney as a possible hiding place. But still…all the obvious places had produced nothing. With a resigned shrug Nate removed his greatcoat and the coat he wore beneath it and rolled up the sleeve of his pristine white shirt. Then he fell to his knees and systematically felt around inside the chimney. He dislodged soot which billowed into the grate, showering his face and the front of his shirt. Nate sighed and continued with his investigation.

It was so well hidden that he almost missed it. A very slight indentation on a ledge almost beyond his reach. Nate pushed against it, more in hope than expectation, and the lining in a small section of the chimney breast fell away. Euphoria swept through him when he felt another, smaller door directly beyond the opening. Clever, he thought. Double protection against the heat of the fire. Nothing inside that second chamber would ever be destroyed. Or discovered by accident. Unless you were as determined as Nate happened to be.

He reached inside and pulled out a small bundle of what felt like papers, wrapped in an oilskin cloth. Careful to close the doors again, Nate briefly looked through his find. It was immediately apparent he had unearthed the document he sought, which was just as well because he could hear the sound of female voices coming from the room opposite. Servants cleaning the rooms, presumably.

Covered in a thick layer of soot that clung to the exposed parts of his skin, Nate slid back into his coat and greatcoat, pulled his hat low over his face and slipped from the room.

“Mr. Brown,” a female voice said as Nate started down the stairs. “Is that you, sir? You’re late leaving today.”

Nate merely raised a hand in acknowledgement and didn’t look back. He left the main door to the house, glanced up and cursed. He only just had time to dive into an alleyway before Brown strode past him, looking impatient and thoroughly out of sorts as he went into his building. That was a close shave, Nate thought, his heart racing. Presumably he had come home to collect the papers Nate had seen in his sitting room. Nate imagined that his female companion had distracted him, making him late, and he had forgotten to take them with him. That would not make him popular with his superiors, hence his bad temper.