How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (22 page)

“Yes. You were a fool to trust me.”

Nick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, keeping Galkin in his peripheral vision. “You told him about the names in the journal?”

“I’m sorry. I thought he could be trusted.”

“You should have discussed it with me first.”

Galkin shook his head. “Though I find your lover’s quarrel amusing, we need to get things moving along.”

“How did Dmitri get involved?” Catherine asked.

“He is my cousin.”

“So that’s why my cabin on the ship was searched.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Did he also search my chamber at the inn in Derbyshire?”

Galkin waved a hand at them. “Enough of this. Give me the tiara and I will let you live.”

Nick laughed at him. “You are a fool. We don’t have the tiara. We were using the journal to try to locate it. Why would we care who Bukov was if we already had the tiara?”

His face went blank, then pulled into a scowl. “I’ve had enough of your games. There is no benefit to me if you live. I shall take the journal from your body when you are dead.”

He raised the gun.

Catherine attempted to slip in front of Nick and he shoved her to the right as he ducked to the left. She hit the ground as a shot rang out. An intense burning sensation tore through him, followed by hot blood pouring across his skin.

…

Catherine’s ears buzzed from the proximity of the shot and her shoulder ached where it had made contact with the wall. The first thing she noticed was blood on the floor. Nick popped up and went at Galkin. He kicked the gun from his hand and dove at him, landing on top of him on the floor. Blood dripped from his arm.

Her feet throbbing, she got up unsteadily and leaned against the wall for support. Nick had the advantage of weight, but Galkin was fast and unhurt. He managed to roll Nick off and scramble for the gun, but Nick caught his leg and yanked him back. “Catherine, run!”

Galkin kicked the wound on Nick’s biceps and he dropped Galkin’s leg. Catherine gathered her strength and made a lunge for the gun. Pulling the weapon against her, she rolled away from the men before jumping to her feet, ignoring the shooting pain traveling up her legs. Nick landed a blow to Galkin’s face and something cracked. They both struggled to stand, then circled each other. “Catherine, get out of here!” Nick ordered.

She would not leave him. She held the gun up, but she was a terrible shot with a pistol and was afraid she would hit Nick if she tried to fire.

Galkin kicked Nick in the thigh. He grunted and punched Galkin in the face. But Galkin merely wiped at the blood running from his nose, then punched Nick’s arm where the bullet had hit. Nick winced and circled around so Galkin had his back turned to her.

Catherine saw her chance. She grasped the muzzle of the gun and smashed the butt of the handle into the base of Galkin’s skull. He dropped to the floor and didn’t move.

Though his breathing was labored, Nick’s eyes were clear and focused. He glanced at her and then to Galkin.

“Is he dead?” she asked.

“I hope so.” Nick knelt next to him, still trying to catch his breath. “He’s still breathing. It’s a pity, that.”

The shuffle of footsteps sounded from the staircase and Lord Hartley came into view. He bent over next to Nick, trying to catch his breath. “Don’t know why” —he sucked in a breath—“they sent the old man to search the upper floors.” He took another deep breath and tapped Galkin with his foot. “Is he dead?”

“Sadly, no,” Nick huffed out.

“I have no idea what’s going on here, but I think we need to do something about that wound.” He turned his attention to Catherine. “And your feet.” He stood up straight and took Catherine’s hand. “We’ve been searching everywhere for you. Jane and her mother are frantic. I’m glad to see you are more or less all right.” He pulled on her hand to direct her toward the staircase.

Nick poked his foot into Galkin’s ribs. “We can’t leave him here alone. For all we know he’s perfectly fine and is pretending to be injured so we will leave him unattended. I will not risk letting him escape.”

Lord Hartley pointed at Nick’s arm. “You need to bind that wound. I’ll stay with him.”

“He is a soldier. I don’t like to think of you alone with him if he awakens. You take Catherine downstairs and inform the ambassador. I will join you as soon as someone arrives to deal with him.”

He turned to her. “Will you be able to make it down the stairs?”

She experimented with alternating her weight on each foot. “I think so.” She couldn’t hide her grimace.

Nick glanced at Lord Hartley and frowned. He met Catherine’s eyes. “I’ll have to carry you.”

Catherine drew her brows together. “But I thought you didn’t want to leave Galkin unattended.”

Nick looked down at Galkin and back at her.

Murmurs emerged from the stairwell, and Lord Cavanaugh appeared, closely followed by several other men.

“Thank goodness.” Lord Hartley gestured toward Galkin. “Guard him while we go downstairs. These two need to have their wounds seen to, and I must speak with the ambassador. Watch him, and do whatever you need to do to keep him contained until the authorities arrive.”

“Yes, my lord.” Cavanaugh nodded.

Slumped against the wall, Catherine let out a sigh of relief, finally feeling safe again. Nick swept her off her feet and pulled her tight against his chest. “You shouldn’t be carrying me with your wound. You could at least let me attempt to negotiate the stairs on my own.”

“Not a chance.”

Chapter Eighteen

It had been two days since the ball at the embassy. And two days since Catherine had seen Nick. After their wounds were tended to at the embassy, he had accompanied them to Hartley House so they could share their story with Lord and Lady Hartley and Jane, and she had received a gorgeous bouquet of flowers from him the next day. But that was it. She had heard nothing from him since.

An overwhelming sadness permeated her. She had made mistake after mistake with Nick. First she started off their association by breaking into Walsley, and then she ended it without any explanation. No wonder he hadn’t come to see her. As an honorable man he had to make sure she was safe, but he had no further obligation to her.

Catherine sat on the chaise longue in the parlor. Sighing, she absently watched most of London’s population outside enjoying the fine weather. Cay growled at a passing dog, then settled back onto her lap. Her feet were bruised and painful, so she tried to stay off them as much as possible.

“Diana will take you for a walk later,” she promised him.

The front door opened. She strained to hear who had arrived, but was rewarded with only indistinct voices. “Jane, go see who it is.”

She glanced up from her book. “I will not. If it is someone coming to visit you, you will find out who it is soon enough.”

Travers cleared his throat and stepped into the room. “The Duchess of Boulstridge and The Duke of Boulstridge.”

Catherine’s heart leapt to attention, and she straightened against the back of the chair.

The duchess came directly to her and wrapped her into a hug. “My dear, I am so relieved that you have recovered from your ordeal.”

Catherine returned her embrace. “Thank you, Your Grace. I am glad to see you well again after your illness.”

“That was nothing compared to what you have endured. Have you been using the lotion I gave you for your face to heal your feet? Nick said they were bruised and cut from when you tried to escape from the wardrobe. I can send more if you need it.”

She smiled at the duchess. “Yes, thank you. My feet seem to be on the mend and I have plenty of lotion.”

The duchess shuddered. “I cannot imagine how harrowing your experience must have been. You are very brave.”

She glanced over at Nick, who sat pensively in a chair near Jane, watching them, but not engaging in the conversation. She straightened the quilt Diana had insisted on placing over her legs. It was unlike him to remain quiet.

“I don’t know about that, but thankfully His Grace was there to rescue me.”

Lord and Lady Hartley entered and the duchess rose to greet them. Then Jane stood and they all exited the parlor in a single, intricate movement that almost appeared to have been choreographed in advance.

Catherine’s stomach dropped. What could Nick want? Now that Galkin and Dmitri had been caught, there was no need for him to associate with her.

He stood and approached her.

“I have something that belongs to you.”

She crinkled her nose as he reached into his coat. Though she had deliberately tried to forget the events that had occurred at the embassy, she didn’t remember losing anything that night. He handed her a large envelope and sat in the chair opposite her. After breaking the seal, she removed a thick document. She skimmed the contents, not understanding at first. It was the deed to Walsley Manor. Her heart struggled to keep beating.

“My apologies for being away for so long, but I had to retrieve it from Walsley.”

“I cannot accept this. I did not win our wager.” She tried to hand it back to him, but he wouldn’t take it. “Walsley belongs to you. You are the one who painstakingly restored the house and grounds.”

“I have long regretted the impulse that compelled me to offer you the wager. I was a boor to even suggest it and never should have done so.” He knelt before her. Her heart took a leap as if it had been launched from a bow.

“What I do not regret is the time we spent together as a result of the wager.” He took her hands in his and pulled her into a sitting position. “Catherine, I love you, and I would like nothing more than to spend the rest of my life atoning for my atrocious behavior. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

She looked into his eyes, scarcely believing she had heard him correctly. Surely her mind was playing tricks on her. Or perhaps it was her heart.

He leaned closer, until his nose nearly touched hers. “I suggest you accept my offer. It will fulfill the terms of our wager and you can take the deed to Walsley without reservation.”

Her pulse roared across her temples. “I’m not required to accept the offer in order to win our wager.”

His expression wavered. “That is true. Nonetheless, I would very much like for you to accept.”

She could scarcely think. “But…you said you would never marry.”

He shrugged. “I have changed my mind.”

“But you can’t marry me. A duke cannot marry the daughter of a pirate.”

He nodded. “I was wrong about that.”

She leaned away from him. “Wait. Did you just admit that you were wrong?”

“I did, but as there are no witnesses, I shall deny it if you dare mention it again.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “You see, it turns out that a girl with pirate blood was just what I needed in my life.” He cupped her face with both hands. “And I find that I cannot go on without her.”

Now probably wasn’t the right time to tell him that her father had never actually been a pirate.

He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips and drew back to look into her eyes. “Are you always going to be this difficult?”

His warm breath caressed her skin. He pressed soft, quick kisses around the edge of her lips, on her chin, down her neck. A frisson ran through her and she slid her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth to hers.

A few moments later, he asked, “Is that a yes?”

She grinned. “It is two yesses. Yes, I am always going to be difficult, and yes, I will marry you.”

He groaned as she pulled him down on top of her. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Sprinkling a kiss between each word, she said, “A lifetime of love, happiness, and adventure.”

“It’s the adventure part that worries me.”

Epilogue

Derbyshire, England, 1826

The rain beat a steady tempo against the glass panes of the window as Catherine rushed up the cold, damp staircase to Edward’s bedchamber. She pulled her shawl more tightly about her shoulders and increased her pace. She was running late. As usual.

“I’m sorry I’m late, darling.”

“I don’t mind, Mama. It means I get to stay awake longer. And I’m used to you being late.”

She squeezed onto the bed next to him and kissed his forehead. “Which story would you like me to tell tonight?”

He pretended to think about it, then blurted out, “The one about the tiara.”

Of course. He requested that story every night, regardless of whether it was her or Nick putting him to bed.

Leaning close, she whispered, “Hidden somewhere in this house is a diamond tiara once owned by Empress Elizabeth of Russia.”

He bounced up and down on the bed. “You forgot to say ‘Empress of all the Russias.’”

She tweaked his nose. “My apologies for leaving off that very important detail.” His eyelids drooped. She pulled him tight against her side and leaned back against the pillows.

“Now where was I? Oh yes, the tiara is located somewhere in this house, but because an evil cousin sold all of the furniture and didn’t take good care of Walsley Manor, we weren’t able to locate it.”

“And it has never been found.”

She nodded. “That is correct. The tiara is still here in this house, waiting for someone to find it.”

He waved both hands. “Me!”

“When you are older we will give you the journal so you can solve the clues.”

He nodded. “And find the tiara.”

She touched the tip of her finger to his nose. “Perhaps, but first you will need to investigate to discover where it is.”

“I will use Great-Grandmother’s journal to find it.”

“Right now the journal is safe in your father’s library, but when you are grown, we will let you read the journal and find the clues to the location of the tiara.”

“I will find the tiara.” She smiled at his confidence as he snuggled down under the covers and closed his eyes.

She kissed him and pulled up the coverlet. “Pleasant dreams, darling.” As she moved into the corridor, she spotted a star outside the window and wished for Edward to have happy dreams about discovering lost family treasures.

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