How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (16 page)

Chapter Eleven

Hamlet
was a long play. It wasn’t that Catherine didn’t enjoy it, but she found that she preferred the opera. She appreciated the talent of the actors, but the emotion conveyed through the voices of the opera singers touched her more. She glanced around the theater. Count and Countess Lieven had visited their box during the first intermission. Nick and his mother sat with the ambassador in his box, but had not joined them on their visit.

At last the scene came to an end. Both Catherine and Jane stood to stretch once Lord Tregony left the box to bring them some champagne.

“Is it just me, or did it seem as if the intermission would never arrive?” asked Jane.

“I thought I was the problem,” Catherine confessed. She looked out over the crowd. Neither Nick or his mother was in the ambassador’s box. Likely they were off visiting with friends or perhaps partaking in refreshment. She had hoped they would come to see her, but it was just as well they did not, since she ought to be focusing her attention on her host.

Lord Tregony soon returned with a footman bearing refreshments. Catherine wasn’t hungry, but she accepted a glass of champagne.

“Have you attended one of Shakespeare’s plays before?” he asked.

“Yes, at home in New Orleans. It wasn’t nearly as grand as this production, though. The set and scenery are remarkable.”

“I once played Hamlet at university.”

Catherine stifled a laugh. “My apologies, my lord, but I cannot picture you on stage.” He was a kind, unassuming sort, if it was truly possible for a member of the English nobility to be, and she could not conjure an image of him on stage. “Will you recite something for me?”

He placed his hand on his heart and knelt before her. “Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love.” 

She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent an inappropriate response from escaping. She wished with all her heart that her feelings for him would grow, but he didn’t kindle a single flame of romance or desire in her.

“Had I known there would be playacting afoot, I would have arrived sooner.” Nick met her eyes, then glanced down at Tregony, who promptly stood.

Catherine refused to acknowledge the flutter in her stomach brought on by Nick’s appearance and remained focused on Tregony.

“Your Grace. How kind of you to join us.” He wiped his hands against his coat. “Miss Malboeuf doubted my acting abilities, so a demonstration was in order.”

Ignoring Nick, she turned her smile on Tregony. “But you proved me wrong.” And she was forewarned never to request another performance from him.

Catherine managed not to roll her eyes as he knelt before her and kissed her hand. It was no matter since any modicum of gallantry in the gesture was negated when he immediately picked up a pastry and popped it into his mouth.

Nick met her gaze with one brow raised. She returned his stare but chose not to respond. Her relationship with Lord Tregony was none of his concern.

He gulped yet another pastry. “Your Grace, you are welcome to remain with us for the second act.”

“Thank you. I believe I will.”

Lord Tregony responded to a summons from his brother, and Nick leaned in to speak quietly with his mother, who had been conversing with the Hartleys. Nick then took a seat next Jane, who sat to Catherine’s right, downing her own pastry.

Catherine nudged Jane. “How many of those have you consumed?”

“I’ve lost count.” She took a large gulp of champagne and settled back in her chair.

Lord Tregony sat beside Catherine just as the curtain rose. “Miss Malboeuf.” She turned toward him, but he didn’t continue. He cleared his throat and tried again. “My apologies, but my brother just informed me…that is…I cannot conceive of a more appropriate manner in which to…are you related to Claude Malboeuf?”

Catherine lowered her head. How could he know nothing of her background? Surely she had been in London long enough for him to find out. Apparently he was so focused on her wealth that he hadn’t bothered to listen to the rumors about her. After taking a deep, steadying breath, she acknowledged to herself that she had just lost Walsley.

“Yes, I am. He is my father.”

“Is it true your father was once a pirate?”

“He is now the owner of a large shipping corporation and is very well respected in New Orleans.” She would not attempt to placate him by explaining that her father had never been a real pirate. He did not deserve her explanation or her regard if that he was how he chose to judge her.

“That is most unfortunate. I had thought we were forming an attachment, but it was a stretch for me to make an offer for you when I thought you were simply lacking in title. No matter how desperate I become, I could never make an offer for the daughter of a known pirate. I could not bring that sort of dishonor to my family.”

She did not respond. His family was in its current destitute state because they were unable to pay his father’s gambling debts. He was hardly in a position to judge her or her family. Jane reached over and clasped her hand. Obviously she had heard Tregony despite his attempt to whisper.

Catherine refused to let him upset her, even though he had been her best, and possibly only, chance to win the wager. Instead, she attempted to lose herself in the play, but it was no use. Someone’s stomach disrupted her melancholy with a loud gurgle. Tregony pressed a hand to his abdomen. She was surprised he hadn’t run from her, fearing for his sterling reputation. Maybe at the intermission he would kick her out of his box and her night would be complete.

A few moments later, her host leapt from his seat and rushed from the box. Perhaps embarrassing flatulence was his divine punishment for treating her so abominably. She felt no sympathy for him.

Catherine turned toward Jane but instead met Nick’s honeyed gaze. He waved a hand in front of his nose and raised a brow, and she had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. She was thankful for Nick’s calming presence. He had to have heard what Tregony said to her, but he was polite enough not to comment.

Finally, the second act came to a close. Her host’s brother entered the doorway and blocked their exit.

“Ladies, I’m afraid my brother has taken ill. He asked me to beg your forgiveness and encourage you to stay and enjoy the rest of the evening.” He bowed and rushed off. She hoped he wasn’t too ill, but certainly he deserved one bad night as penance for his narrow-mindedness.

Catherine dashed into the corridor, but soon noticed that Jane hadn’t followed her. Backtracking to the box, she found Nick leaning close to Jane and speaking softly near her ear. Blood rushed to her head before she observed Jane’s pallor and her hunched form. Catherine dropped to her knees in front of her just as Lady Hartley and the duchess rushed over. “Jane, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. My stomach is cramping.”

Nick ran his fingers through his hair. “This cannot be a coincidence. Lord Tregony suffered a similar affliction before leaving the box. There may have been something off with the refreshments.”

Lady Hartley placed her palm against Jane’s forehead and asked, “Your Grace, would be so kind as to request that our carriage be brought around?”

“Of course, my lady.” He left the box.

Jane reached for Catherine. “I’m sorry. I know you were looking forward to watching the pantomime.”

She squeezed her friend’s shaky hand. “It does not matter. I shall see it another time.”

The duchess glanced at Catherine. “If you do not object, Lady Hartley, I would be pleased to see Miss Malboeuf home at the end of the evening.”

“Oh, thank you, Your Grace. That would be lovely. Catherine was so looking forward to the evening. It might yet be redeemed.”

Nick appeared in the doorway. “Your carriage awaits, Lady Hartley.”

“Jane, dear, do you think you can walk to the carriage?”

“I hope so.” She gave them a half smile. “We shall certainly attract much attention if I crawl.”

“I would be honored to carry you, Lady Jane,” Nick offered.

“That would likely attract more attention than if I crawled.” She grabbed the back of her chair and stood. “I think I can make it if we move quickly.”

Lady Hartley and Nick supported Jane between them and shuttled her out the door.

“Come, my dear,” said the duchess. “Let us settle into our seats. His Grace will return shortly.”

Despite her worry over Jane, Catherine became so absorbed in the play she hadn’t noticed that Nick had returned. A feeling of being watched prickled up her spine and she discovered him sitting behind them.

The duchess shifted, then placed a hand to her forehead. Catherine touched the duchess’s arm. “Are you well, Your Grace?”

“I’m feeling a bit faint.”

Nick sunk into the chair next to his mother and placed the back of his hand against her cheek. “Your face is flushed. Did you by chance eat any of the pastries?”

“I did have one.” Her hand shook.

“Hopefully your reaction will be milder than that of Jane and Lord Cavanaugh. Are you experiencing stomach cramps?” He moved his had to her forehead.

“No, I feel more chilled than anything else.”

“We need to get you home forthwith.” He stood.

She shook her head. “No, we have to take Miss Malboeuf home first. I promised Lady Hartley.”

“It is not necessary, Your Grace.” Catherine clasped her hand. “Let us take you home first, and then His Grace can escort me.”

“That would be most improper.”

Nick sighed. “You can send one of your maids with us when we drop you off. I assure you I will not assault Miss Malboeuf.”

The duchess smiled. “I realize that, my dear, but the rest of society might not.” Of course, Nick would never make an improper advance on her, but given her questionable background, what little reputation she had could be ruined.

“We will be fine, Mother. It is perfectly proper as long as we take a maid with us.” When he reached the door, he turned back to them. “Wait here. I shall have my carriage brought around.”

…

Taking the stairs two at a time, Nick hurried to fetch the ladies. The evening had gone from bad to worse. First that simpleton, Tregony, had insulted Catherine in every way possible. His slights had brought back Nick’s worst memories from school, when the older boys tormented him relentlessly about his father’s indiscretions. Then the fool had gone and poisoned everyone with spoiled refreshments, which served him right. He only hoped his mother and Lady Jane would recover quickly.

Nick rushed into the box and helped his mother to stand. He and Catherine balanced her between them to descend the staircase. “I am not an invalid. I can walk.”

Nick pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Let us help you. There is no sense in depleting your energy getting to the carriage. You shall need all of your strength to fight off whatever ails you.” The two ladies exchanged a conspiratorial look, no doubt thinking him overprotective. They exited the theater, but his carriage was nowhere to be seen, despite his explicit instructions to have it brought round. The area was deserted since most patrons were still inside watching the performance.
Bloody hell
.

Removing his greatcoat, he swung it about his mother’s shoulders. “Wait here. I shall locate my wayward carriage.”

He stalked around the back of the theater to where the other carriages waited, but his was not there. A scream sounded from the front of the building and he took off running in the direction he had come from.

Turning the corner, he spotted Catherine being dragged toward an unmarked carriage by a man wearing a black cloak and mask. His heart thundering, Nick ran full tilt, but if the man was able to force her into the carriage, they would get away before he could reach her. She kicked at her attacker and he managed to grab hold of her hair and tug her against his chest. Stretching her arm downward, she yanked her knife from its strap. She slashed across his forearm and he let her go, grasping the slice in his arm. As soon as he leapt into the carriage, it sped away. Unfortunately, there was no chance Nick would be able to catch the vehicle, and it bore no identifying marks.

Catherine dashed into Nick’s embrace and he held her tight against him.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, then held her away a few inches so he could see her face. Angry red furrows spanned her cheek, and she held her left arm curled against her chest. She still clasped the knife in her right hand.

“Are you hurt?” No doubt it was a ludicrous question given the obvious injury to her face, but he needed to know if the bastard had done any other damage.

“Nothing that won’t heal.”

He placed his palm against her uninjured cheek. “Are you certain?”

She nodded, her expression stoic.

“Do you have any idea who that was?”

She shook her head. He recognized the bewildered look in her eyes. The tumult of the fight was dissipating and everything that just happened would soon hit her full force.

Where was his bloody carriage?

His mother made her way slowly down the stairs, more steadily than he would have expected. She had always been strong during adversity, and she’d dealt with more than her fair share of it.

The clack of horseshoes against stone and the rattle of wheels announced the arrival of his carriage. Five minutes too late.

“Your Grace.” His coachman jumped from the carriage before it came to a complete halt. “We were detained in the alley. Just as we were to exit, a cart blocked the way and refused to move. I had to—”

“We will discuss this later. Right now we need to get the ladies into the carriage as quickly as possible.”

He inclined his head. “Of course, Your Grace.” His coachman hurried to support his mother.

Nick handed Catherine up into the carriage and settled her on the seat, then turned to help his mother ascend. She dropped next to Catherine, leaving him with the opposite seat to himself. He pulled out a carriage blanket and spread it across them both.

Leaning out, he said, “To Her Grace’s house as quickly as possible.”