How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (14 page)

Catherine sat and removed a rolled sheet of foolscap from her reticule. “In all, I was only able to discover five names—three given names and two surnames. There could be as few as three distinct individuals. However, I located a passage that states the given name of the man who gave her the tiara.”

He drew up behind her and leaned over her to study the list. For just a moment, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift closer, breathing in her scent. His pulse hammered through him and he forced himself to focus on the list. “The surnames could be of use. I don’t see how the given names will be of any use unless they can be linked to a surname or another clue within the journal.”

She nodded, not moving her gaze from the paper. “I agree.” She pulled the journal out of that mysterious fold in her skirts and opened it, removing a paper that marked the page.

“‘
He took me into his arms and I was awash in exquisite sensation as he showed me the depth of his love.’
” Placing her finger on the page, she said, “These entries occurred just before she began to write about the tiara. Alex must have been her…um…”

“Yes. I think we can deduce that from the passage you read in Hyde Park.” He cleared his throat. Leaning close enough for her hair to tickle his nose, he read the list. “Alex. Michael. George. Frederick. Bukov. Nolet. He straightened. “So we should concentrate our efforts on Alex. But either surname could go with Alex. Nearly every language has a version of Alexander.”

She suddenly stood and turned to face him, then took a step back, her face flushed with color. After meeting her eyes, he glanced at her lips. She slid her tongue out to wet those lips and he was nearly undone. No doubt it was a nervous gesture on her part, but that action, coupled with the passages she had read aloud, created images in his mind that made it impossible to concentrate.

“I think we have to consider both surnames until we are able to investigate further,” she said softly.

He nodded. “I will search the records to determine if any of these men were in the House of Lords.” Pacing away from her toward the window, he peered outside, waiting for his body to settle before he had a physical reaction to her that would be difficult to hide. He glanced over his shoulder to find her studying the journal. A wrinkle of concentration had formed between her eyes and he was nearly overcome by an urge to smooth it with his finger.

Footsteps in the corridor put an end to his musings. He waved Catherine toward him and lowered the wick on the lamp. She scurried to shove the foolscap into the journal and conceal it once again among her skirts. Glancing around and finding no better option, he opened the door to the large sideboard and shoved her in, then squeezed in behind her. To make space for them both to fit with the door closed, he lifted her onto his lap and sat against the back of the sideboard, holding her close. Even so, both their heads bumped against the top and there was no room to move. Pushing her against his chest, he reached around and yanked the door closed.

Someone entered the room.

Catherine’s breathing sped to an impossible rate. If it didn’t slow, she would lose consciousness. Sweat formed on her brow and neck and she trembled against him. He didn’t understand her panic—they weren’t in any real danger. The only thing at risk was her reputation, but she had to know he would not ruin her and walk away. He was not his father. He always took care of his responsibilities. It was a matter of honor.

The footsteps approached the sideboard and Catherine held her breath. He rubbed her back with slow, silent caresses, hoping to calm her fears. Papers shuffled against the top of the sideboard, then whoever had entered moved about the room, presumably searching for something… A few moments later, the door opened and closed in quick succession. They remained in the sideboard until Nick had counted slowly to one hundred. Pushing the door open with his foot, he scooted to the opening and fell backward onto the floor, pulling Catherine out to rest on top of him. They were pressed together from top to bottom, but she didn’t attempt to move. He sat up carefully, shifting her so he could hold her on his lap. Smoothing her damp hair back from her face, he ran his hands up and down each arm and over her back, attempting to determine what was wrong with her. He pulled her close and held her tight as shivers racked her body.

“Catherine. What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“N-n-nothing.”

“Even you couldn’t think me that obtuse. What is the matter?”

Sucking in a deep, shuddering breath, she let it out slowly and repeated the process several more times before speaking. “I am not fond of small, enclosed spaces.”

“You could have fooled me.”

She smacked her palm against his chest, a sign sure of her returning faculties. “I am being serious. I cannot abide small, dark places. I am terrified of being trapped.”

“And here I thought you were just overwhelmed by my close proximity.”

“Dear Lord,” she mumbled.

Excellent. His diversionary tactics were succeeding. He stood, cradling her in his arms, then gently lowered her legs so she was in a standing position. He kept his arms around her for support.

“How long have you been so afflicted?”

“Most of my life.” She still shivered, and her teeth clattered together when she wasn’t speaking. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her, then sat in the chair behind him and pulled her into his lap. She rested her head against his shoulder, her scent of fresh roses enveloping him.

“I was six or seven when it happened. While exploring the ruins of an ancient temple, I fell through a soft spot and landed in an underground chamber. Rocks and debris dropped on me, camouflaging the opening I went through. It took nearly a day and a half for them to locate me. It was dark and I was unable to move around or stand. I have disliked enclosed spaces ever since.”

“No wonder.”

A sharp giggle escaped her mouth and he thought for moment she might be a candidate for Bedlam, but she was just recovering from her shock. “It didn’t keep me from exploring the ruins, but I was much more careful after that. I always tested my footing and took my dog with me.”

“Your parents didn’t insist you have a chaperone with you at all times?”

“Of course they did, but I became quite skilled at sneaking out or getting away from them. The Bahamas, and especially Acklins, is nothing like London. It is not necessary to have an escort to preserve your innocence. I was allowed to go into the village unescorted. I just wasn’t supposed to explore the ruins alone.”

He was pleased to already be seated, because he would have needed to be after picturing Catherine trapped in a dark hole, covered with debris. The image wouldn’t leave his head. “So despite your experience, you continued to explore the ruins?”

“I enjoy studying other cultures, and wanted to find out as much as I could about the temple ruins and carvings. If you had ever visited Acklins, you would understand. I spent much time attempting to decipher the carvings of the Lucayan people.”

There was a lot more to this girl than he could ever have anticipated. That they shared an interest in the history of other cultures was unexpected. He cupped her check with his palm. Her eyes darkened like polished malachite and his heart ricocheted off his ribs. The pulse at her throat quickened. Without thought, he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Her lips moved under his, softly exploring, and her breathing slowed to match his.

Reluctantly pulling back from her, he met her startled gaze. He licked the taste of her from his lips. “We had best return to the ballroom before we are missed.”

“Of course.” She scrambled off his lap and smoothed her skirts.

Her abrupt departure left him feeling strangely hollow, as if a piece of him had left with her. She removed his coat and handed it to him, and they headed back to reality.

“You should return to the ballroom first. No one will note my absence. I shall make an appearance later.” She studied his face and nodded before walking away. He still wasn’t sure what had possessed him to kiss her. He could claim close proximity, but that wasn’t it. He wasn’t a mongrel dog incapable of controlling his urges when presented with an attractive female. He was a duke who ought not to be dabbling with anyone, least of all an untitled daughter of a pirate. Perhaps he should leave town and go back to Walsley for a while to get some distance from her.

…

Catherine entered the ballroom, approached Lady Hartley, and took a position between her and Jane, who were deep in conversation with Countess Lieven.

The countess stopped speaking and studied Catherine’s face. “My dear, are you feeling ill? You’re quite pale.”

Lady Hartley and Jane both glimpsed at her as well. “My goodness, you are right, Countess Lieven.”

Catherine produced a weak smile. “I am fine. Just a bit of an ache in my head.”

Lady Hartley put her arm around Catherine’s shoulders. “Countess, it has been delightful speaking with you. I hate to cut our visit short, but I believe it is time to take Catherine home.”

“Of course.” Countess Lieven motioned for a footman. “Have the Hartley carriage brought around.” She turned back to Lady Hartley. “I do hope you will call on me soon. I should love to give you a tour of the embassy.”

“We would be delighted,” said Lady Hartley as she pushed Catherine toward the corridor leading to the front hall. When they reached their destination, Lady Hartley spoke softly to Jane and headed for the card room to fetch her husband.

“I must look like death for everyone to react so quickly.” She squeezed Jane’s hand. “I am sorry you have to cut your evening short. Perhaps his lordship would be willing to escort me home so you can stay.”

“There is no need. I am fatigued myself, and I’ve already danced twice with Lord Cavanaugh, so there is no reason to stay.”

They stood under the threshold to the corridor. Something pulled painfully against Catherine’s wrist, and her reticule was yanked from her arm, sending her off balance. Jane steadied her and she turned just in time to see someone in a dark coat turn the corner. Still rattled from her confinement in the sideboard, she hadn’t reacted quickly enough to give chase. Glancing up, she noticed the lamps in the corridor had been dimmed. Her shock quickly turned to confusion. Why would someone take the risk of accosting her in the middle of a ball? Nearly all of the guests were wealthy, so why target her?

“Well, I never,” said Jane just as her parents arrived. She placed both of her hands on her father’s arm. “Papa, Catherine’s reticule has been stolen. A man just sneaked up behind us and jerked it from her arm.”

“Which way did he go?” he asked.

“Please don’t go to any bother. It was empty save for my fan.” Thankfully she had placed the list of names inside the journal, which was tucked safely in the pocket beneath her skirts. The journal. Was it possible someone had found out about it, perhaps overheard her speaking with Nick about it?

“Thank goodness for that, but I must inform the ambassador. We cannot let this go unpunished.” He turned on his heal and stormed toward the ballroom.

Lady Hartley hugged Catherine to her. “My goodness. You’ve had a rough evening.”

Moments later, a large group arrived in the front hall, Countess Lieven, the ambassador, and Lieutenant Galkin among them.

Countess Lieven took Catherine’s hand. “Miss Malboeuf, I cannot express how mortified I am that this happened to you in the embassy. We shall do everything in our power to find the thief.”

“My sincerest apologies as well,” said the ambassador. “We have never experienced anything like this.”

“Did you recognize the perpetrator?” Countess Lieven asked.

“No, my lady. It all happened so fast and I only caught a glimpse of his back. He was wearing a dark coat, like most of the gentlemen present tonight, and I think his hair was dark, but it was difficult to discern due to the low light in the corridor.”

The ambassador stepped into the corridor. “Lieutenant Galkin, why are the lamps in the corridor turned so low?”

The lieutenant shrugged as he studied the lamps.

“Well, find out. Go interview the staff now. Discretely. We don’t want to unnecessarily upset our other guests.”

The lieutenant bowed to the ambassador and strode from the room.

Lady Hartley squeezed her shoulders. Catherine turned to scan the crowd and locked gazes with Nick. His tense features and dark eyes signaled he was likely thinking the same thing she was—that this might not have been the work of a pickpocket, and she had been deliberately targeted. But why?

Chapter Nine

The morning after the ball at the Russian embassy, an invitation arrived for the ladies of Hartley House to join the Duke of Boulstridge and his mother on a visit to the British Museum.

Catherine paced back and forth across the back of the morning room. After Nick had kissed her during the embassy ball, she wasn’t sure how he would behave toward her during their outing to the museum. There was no way he could have known it was her first kiss.

Straightening her gloves, she willed away the quiver that invaded her stomach at the thought of the kiss. Of his soft lips scorching hers, kindling her desire. She shook her head to clear it. Of course, it was likely he could sense her inexperience immediately. In any case, he considered her beneath him so there was no chance that he had any improper feelings about her, though he might fault
her
for allowing him to take what some viewed as liberties.

But really, she hadn’t any choice in the matter.
He
kissed
her
. She supposed she could have pushed him away, but after being thrust into a sideboard and jammed against him, not to mention being held in his lap, surely she couldn’t be solely to blame. Perhaps he had done it simply to calm her. Yes. That was the most reasonable explanation.

An enormous carriage passed by the window and stopped in front of the house, temporarily putting an end to her musings.

“Jane, they have arrived. You shall have to set your book aside.”

By her own admission, Jane hadn’t had much interest in reading, but Catherine had managed to get her hooked on Miss Austen’s books. She was currently attempting to finish
Pride and Prejudice
. Jane placed her index finger on the page and looked up. “Can I not cry off? I believe stopping at this point in the story will cause a headache.”

Catherine laughed. “No, you shall not throw me to the wolves. I need you with me to occupy the duke so I can enjoy the museum.”

Jane shook her head. “The duke’s interest does not lie with me.”

“Well it certainly doesn’t lie with me. He considers me beneath his notice.”

“He seems to notice you when he asks you to dance at every ball.”

“He is merely being polite because my mother’s family once owned Walsley Manor. I am certain no one would ever be mistaken enough to think he is courting me. He is simply behaving as a gentleman and performing his duty to dance with ladies who are in want of a partner, which I frequently seem to be.”

Jane snorted and gently placed the book on a side table.

“What does that mean?” Catherine asked, but Jane was prevented from answering since the door had opened.

Lady Hartley peeked in. “The duke and Her Grace have arrived, and are anxious to leave at once for the museum in the hope that we will avoid the rain.”

Jane shot Catherine a look with raised brows. “We are ready, Mama.”

Nick waited on the front stoop to escort them to his carriage. He turned as Catherine crossed the threshold and she was treated to one of his rare, genuine smiles that made her breath catch. Lady Hartley and Jane were still inside, fussing with their pelisses, so he took her hand and led her toward his enormous town carriage bearing the crest of the Duke of Boulstridge. Suddenly nervous, she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“I hope you enjoy our outing today, Miss Malboeuf. When you mentioned your interest in the ancient carvings in the Bahamas, I felt certain you would want to see the Rosetta Stone while you are in London.”

“I do.” She returned his smile, pleasantly surprised that he had remembered their conversation and warmed by the thought that he had arranged for her to visit the museum because of it. “It will be especially interesting to compare the hieroglyphics to the Lucayan carvings to determine if there are any similarities.”

He handed her into the carriage and went back to fetch Jane and Lady Hartley. Catherine settled in next to the duchess.

“Miss Malboeuf. How lovely to see you again. I do hope you have recovered from your ordeal at the Russian Embassy.” For an instant, Catherine thought she was talking about being trapped in the sideboard with Nick, but of course she was referring to the theft of her reticule. “I have, thank you. Luckily the thief gained only a small reticule and a fan.”

The duchess patted her leg. “We’re just glad you are recovered, my dear.”

The door opened again and first Jane, then Lady Hartley was handed into the carriage. Jane squished in next to Catherine, and Nick sat with Lady Hartley on the opposite seat.

Nick was quiet as Lady Hartley and the duchess exchanged pleasantries. Catherine peered out the window at the passing homes. The air was damp and cool and dark clouds threatened rain. The museum wasn’t far from Hartley House, but Catherine was likely the only one who would have enjoyed walking, even without the impending rain.

Lost in the changing scenery, time passed quickly and they were soon stopped in front of the museum. Raindrops began to fall and they exited the carriage quickly and rushed into the foyer of the museum.

Catherine glanced around in awe. The enormous staircase led up to an equally large landing that inexplicably held preserved animals. Nick engaged in a short conversation with a museum employee and returned to their group.

“I hope you ladies don’t object, but I’ve arranged for us to tour the museum on our own. I am a frequent visitor and am confident of my ability to guide you.”

“I am convinced His Grace knows more about this museum than the curators,” said the duchess. “He took firsts in history and classics at Oxford.”

Catherine schooled her features to hide her surprise. She’d thought of Nick as someone who would enjoy sums or some other such boring subject.

“The British Museum first opened in June of 1753 following a gift from Sir Hans Sloane, who was a physician and naturalist.” He swept his arm toward the staircase, indicating they should ascend, and continued his soliloquy from behind them, but they were all focused on the animals.

“He bequeathed his entire collection of natural specimens, books, and antiquities to the crown.” They reached the landing and were able to see the animal specimens up close.

“Giraffes,” Catherine said in awe. They were much taller than she had imagined. “Papa once brought a book home with plates of animals that had been painted on the continent of Africa. The book labeled them as cameleopards.”

Jane laughed. “Well, they do have a long neck like a camel. And spots like a leopard.”

Nick cleared his throat and Catherine turned to him. His eyes were wide with surprise. “That is an accurate assessment. Are you familiar with the rhinoceros?” he asked as they shifted toward the short, wide animal next to the giraffes.

“I’ve seen drawings, but I’ve never imagined an animal could grow its own armor.” Each area of the rhinoceros’s body was covered with a plate of think skin that looked as if it had been riveted together like the armor of a knight.

Jane pointed a finger at the animal’s shoulder. “Look at the definition between each section. It looks as if someone sewed leather patches onto his skin.”

After studying the animals for a bit longer, Catherine began to find them a bit eerie. She wasn’t accustomed to seeing preserved animals and kept expecting them to move or breathe.

They continued into the exhibit hall, which contained manuscripts and books filled with drawings of plants and animals. There were also several species of preserved birds on display, including some that looked as if they could be from the Bahamas, but came from South America. “In the Bahamas, we have many native species of birds that are yellow or red. Some of these are quite similar, but vary in the shape of their beak or the turn of their wing.”

The duchess approached her while Nick went to answer a question from Lady Hartley. “How perceptive of you to note the subtle differences. From a young age, Nick was curious about everything. I imagine you were the same way.”

Catherine smiled at the duchess. “My mother would likely tell you that I drove her to distraction with constant questions about everything and everyone.”

“I think your mother and I would have much to talk about. Do you have siblings?”

“I do. Three younger brothers and a baby sister I have yet to meet. My parents were originally supposed to make the trip to England with me, but my mother found out she was expecting.”

“Well, I for one am glad you were able to make the trip. I’ve seen such a difference in Nick since you arrived and started challenging all of his arrogant assumptions.”

Catherine had not expected the duchess to be so forthcoming and clamped her lips together to prevent herself from voicing an inappropriate response. “I’m afraid my father raised me as a tomboy. I was taught from an early age to pursue my desires. I’m sure my constant challenges perturb the duke to no end.”

“I believe they do, which is as it should be. Perhaps if he had had siblings he wouldn’t be so taciturn. Some of the boys at school were unkind to him because of his father’s actions, which I have no doubt you’ve already heard about. He was the victim of several altercations before he learned to defend himself. He does not trust easily.”

It made Catherine sad to think of a young Nick bearing the brunt of his father’s reprehensible behavior.

“I hold out hope that he will one day relent and decide to marry. But it will take an out-of-the-ordinary girl to convince him to abandon his convictions. He has a misguided notion that if he marries, he will slip into his father’s pattern, but he is nothing like his father. I did not raise him to behave in that manner.”

Catherine reached out and clasped her hand. “Of course you didn’t.”

Nick approached and she was unable to say more, though she would have loved to have learned more about him from the duchess. “Are you ready to move to another gallery now?

“I am,” Catherine said, “but I don’t believe the others are yet.”

The duchess followed her gaze to Lady Hartley and Jane, who were deep in discussion about something. “I shall go see what is so engaging.”

“I find I have seen enough inanimate animals for one day.” Catherine studied him as he turned away. She hoped he would find the right woman to convince him he deserved a normal life, but it would not be her. He would never view her as his equal.

The journals and notebooks detailing the animals on display had put her in mind of Great-Grandmother’s journal. She glanced around, but everyone else was engaged in their own pursuits and paid them no heed. “I seem to have run out of leads with respect to my research.”

“None of the names we discussed were associated with the House of Lords, so we have to assume he was one of the diplomats. Perhaps you should work from a different angle.” Nick crossed his arms.

There were so few clues in the journal. “It occurs to me that finding out as much as possible about Alex could be of use to us. I think we have to operate on the assumption that his last name was Bukov or Nolet.”

“And how do you propose to go about gathering information?”

She lifted her head to meet his gaze. Perhaps she could ask Lieutenant Galkin to check the records at the embassy, but she wasn’t sure Nick would approve of her plan so she didn’t mention it. “I have no idea. But I will come up with something.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” He searched her face as if looking for the answer to a question he hadn’t asked.

…

After leading the group through a gallery filled with ancient coins and medals, and another housing the Towneley sculptures, Nick took them to the Rosetta Stone. “Miss Malboeuf, you mentioned that there are ruins and Lucayan carvings that contain drawings. I shall be interested to learn whether they are similar to the hieroglyphics.”

He kept his eyes trained on Catherine as she studied the Rosetta Stone. “There are some similarities. The drawings at Acklins are more of a complete picture, whereas the hieroglyphic symbols appear to be used together to form words. Is that correct?”

He was impressed by her very astute observation. Though he hadn’t been willing to acknowledge it, he had long since suspected that there was much more to this unconventional girl than anyone knew. Pointing to the top of the stone, he said, “The inscription on the stone is a decree passed by a council of priests. The decree itself isn’t noteworthy, but if you look closely, you’ll see that it is inscribed on the stone three times, in hieroglyphic, in Enchorial Egyptian script, and in Greek.”

Catherine leaned closer and gasped. “Yes, you can see three distinct sections of writing.”

Jane stepped up next to Catherine to get a better look.

“The knowledge of how to read and write hieroglyphics was lost long before the stone was discovered, so you can see how important the Rosetta Stone is to studying ancient Egypt. Scholars are using the enchorial script on the stone to decipher the hieroglyphics.”

“How remarkable,” said Lady Hartley. She slid her arm around Catherine’s shoulders. “How lucky for our modern scholars to have it as a resource.”

“I wonder if such a stone exists at Acklins. It seems unlikely.” Catherine turned toward him. “But I will look at the carvings differently the next time I see them. I’m not certain they are letters, but more of a pictorial record. I always assumed they were pictures meant to represent something, perhaps life events like birth and death.”

She glanced at the window and he followed her gaze. The rain fell in steady streams, rolling in sheets down the glass panes of the windows. He had been so focused on Catherine’s reaction to the museum displays that he hadn’t paid much attention to anything else. Dusk had fallen outside.

“I shall call for the carriage.” He left in search of a footman or steward to have the carriage brought around.

For someone who likely had no scholarly experience, Catherine was highly perceptive. Society did not encourage the pursuit of scholarly knowledge in ladies, but it was a quality he appreciated. There were few women of his acquaintance who could have made the sort of connections she did with so little information. He would do well to remember not to underestimate her intelligence or resourcefulness. For the first time, he began to fear he might lose Walsley to her. If she could win
him
over, then there were others who might succumb to her charms.