How to Beguile a Duke (Entangled Scandalous) (8 page)

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do not fear. Though the
Théâtre d’Orléans
is smaller than the Theater Royale, it affords us many opportunities to experience culture.”

“I see. And have you had the opportunity to visit Derbyshire yet?”

Her eyes widened and she looked from him to the Hartleys and back again. “No, Your Grace,” she said through clenched teeth.

He slid his hands into his pockets. She definitely had a temper to match her fiery locks. “I would be pleased to host you at Walsley Manor should you ever wish to visit.”

Lady Hartley moved to stand next to Miss Malboeuf. “I’m afraid we haven’t planned for a trip to Derbyshire anytime soon, but we do appreciate your offer, Your Grace.” Making a point of perusing the theater, she said, “I believe the second act is about to start.”

After saying his good-byes, he hurried back to the Everstoke’s box. He had sent a note to Justin for he and Sarah to join him after the second act, so he wouldn’t have further reason to dance attendance on Miss Malboeuf for the rest of the evening.

Unfortunately, his eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Instead of watching the stage, as he ought to have done, he found himself inexplicably drawn to Miss Malboeuf. The play of emotions across her face and the way she balanced on the edge of her seat in anticipation made him long to be sitting next to her, to be the object of her regard. Good heavens. He needed a drink. Several drinks, actually. She was an uncouth, uncultured woman who needed to learn her place in society. Theirs was a business relationship. Nothing more.

…

Catherine shifted in her seat as the second act drew to a close. She turned to Jane. “I must visit the retiring room.”

“So must I. The champagne we drank during the last intermission has passed right through me.”

Jane stood and Catherine followed her lead. They moved to the back of the box to speak with Lady Hartley, who agreed to accompany them.

They maneuvered into the bustle of the corridor. People moved about like ants on a mound. Some seemed to have a purpose to their movements, while others simply stood about blocking the corridors. As they neared their destination, Catherine noticed a young woman standing alone in an alcove, her head tilted at an odd angle. She was unnaturally still.

Catherine grabbed Jane’s arm. “Do you know that girl?”

“That is Lady Amelia, the youngest daughter of Lord Goodwin.” Jane looked more closely. “It is odd that she is alone. Perhaps we should ask after her.”

Catherine followed Jane to the alcove. Lady Amelia cast her eyes toward them, but did not move. “Jane, thank goodness. I need your help. My hair has somehow become caught in the curtain and I cannot free myself. It seems as if hundreds of people have walked past, but no one else thought to check if anything was amiss.”

Jane glanced around and took a step forward. “Oh dear, your hair piece is snagged in the threads of the curtain. I’m afraid we’ll have to remove it.”

Lady Amelia’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Mama will be so angry if I make a spectacle of myself. I cannot have my hair down out here, in plain view.”

“I don’t see any other way to free you,” Jane said, moving behind Amelia to get a closer look.

Catherine reached down and pulled her knife from the sheath on the outside of her calf. Amelia’s eyes widened. She moved behind Amelia and quickly and carefully cut the threads from the curtain, releasing her.

Amelia smiled. “Oh, thank you, Miss Malboeuf. How clever of you to carry a knife.”

“I always carry a blade of some sort. A lady should always be able to defend herself.” She slid the knife back into the sheath, taking care not to lift her skirts and expose her ankle. It was then that she became aware of the murmurs of those around them.

“Did you see how she whipped that knife out? I had heard that her father is a pirate, but I didn’t believe it until just now.” When Catherine met the eyes of the speaker, she and Jane quickly scuttled away.

She had thought only of freeing Amelia and had never considered how others would react to her being armed at a social event. She lifted her chin and met the gazes of those watching her.

Lady Hartley stood a few feet away, no doubt startled into silence by her actions. Recovering quickly, she waved them over to her. “Come along, girls. We must hurry if we are to make it back to the box before the next act begins.”

…

After the opera, Lord Hartley snored on the carriage seat across from her and Jane and Lady Hartley discussed Jane’s prospects for the season. Catherine had only met one of the men they were discussing, so she was content to sit back and listen, but her mind soon wandered to her own situation.

Given her unique family circumstances, Mama and Lady Hartley had decided that it would be best not to hold a ball or formal come out for her, but to simply allow her to be the mysterious girl being sponsored by Lord Hartley. They all hoped it would be enough for her to be accepted into society

She found it difficult to judge the success of her debut in London. The evening had gone well until she drew her knife in the crowded corridor. No doubt her actions would spread through the
ton
as easily as butter on warm bread, but she did not feel remorse. She would do the same thing again if presented with the situation. There was nothing wrong with a lady being prepared—whether it was to defend herself or solve a problem as Catherine had done earlier. Though she would try not to do anything else to attract unnecessary attention, she could not change who she was, so there was no point in trying to hide it.

Aside from the spectacle she had unwittingly caused, and the Duke of Boulstridge and his certainty that she would fail, everyone had been pleasant enough so far. The opera was an experience she would not have missed, regardless of the outcome.

Catherine scowled. She was more confused than ever about the duke. One moment he was insulting her and the next he was whispering in her ear. Even she had to admit that he was quite impressive in his formal attire, though he was less intimidating in his shirtsleeves as he had been the first time they met. Several heads had turned as he passed through the theater, and she imagined there were many ladies vying to be the one who made him abandon his resolve to never marry.

The carriage soon began to slow, and she was pleasantly surprised to see Hartley House before them.

After shooting a quick smile to the footman who helped her from the carriage, she hurried up to the house and received a happy welcome home from Cay. Though she had been warned about how cold the weather would be here, she hadn’t been prepared for how much colder the damp air would make the spring weather seem. The butler attempted to remove her cloak, but she waved him off.

“You must be exhausted, my dear,” said Lady Hartley. “You’ve barely been here for a day and we’ve already dragged you off to shop and to the opera.”

Exhausted was an understatement, yet Catherine had too many things to think through to give in to tiredness. She could, however, make herself more comfortable before attempting to tackle her problems. “I am quite tired, I’m afraid. I believe I will take to my chamber.”

“Good night, dear,” said Lady Hartley. Lord Hartley nodded to her and disappeared into the library.

Jane slid her arm through Catherine’s and Cay trotted happily alongside. “Are you really going to bed now, or do you just want some time to yourself?”

“I admit to a desire for both. But I would like to hear more about your Lord Cavanaugh.”

Jane glanced around to make sure no one was about before she spoke. “Well, he’s certainly not
my
Lord Cavanaugh.”

Catherine squeezed her hand. “But you want him to be, don’t you? I saw the way you practically glowed while you were speaking to him.”

“Well, I probably wouldn’t refuse an offer from him, but there are others to consider.”

Jane was lucky to have so many suitors. The duke was the only one who had paid any attention to her at the opera, and his interest was targeted toward ensuring that Catherine would not receive any offers. Perhaps that was why he had pulled her away from her conversation with Lord Cavanaugh and his friends.

Something must be done to make certain she received at least one offer. She had to win her bet with the duke and secure Walsley Manor for Mama.

“Who else are you considering?” she asked Jane somewhat absently. Perhaps she ought to pay attention since she would be in close contact with the gentlemen who were interested in Jane.

“There is no one else in particular who has captured my interest, but the season has only just begun. When we start attending balls next week, we will have a better idea of our options.”

“You sound as if you are speaking of a bolt of fabric or ribbon for a new hat.”

Jane looked up at the ceiling, as if considering. “It’s not a bad comparison.”

“Jane!”

“I’m simply being honest. Of course I hope to make a love match, but the man I choose must also be titled and possess enough wealth to keep me in the style to which I’ve become accustomed.”

Catherine smiled. “You are too much.”

“I am not by half. Now go catch up with your sleep. We have much to accomplish before next week.”

Catherine took both of Jane’s hands into her own. “Thank you for putting up with me. I know you probably didn’t have a say about whether your parents would sponsor me, and I recognize that my presence won’t enhance your ability to make a desirable match.”

“Nonsense. I’ve always wanted a sister, and with you I have something even better, a live-in friend.” She hugged Catherine close. “Trust me. We shall both make excellent matches this season.”

Catherine wiped at a tear on her cheek, too emotional to profess her appreciation for Jane. Unlike Jane, she would only marry for love. Thanks to Papa’s success, she did not need a husband to support her. After spending most of her childhood dreaming of England, she wasn’t opposed to staying here, but she would miss her family terribly. And so far, she had only come across stuffy, too-concerned-with-their-own-importance men. New Orleans society was not large and she knew her ideal match was not to be found there, but she was equally fearful that he might not be here either.

“Go, on.” Jane pushed her toward her chamber. “Rest while you can.”

Catherine sent her a grateful smile before opening the door to her chamber. Slipping inside, she pushed the door closed and leaned against it. The hair on Cay’s back raised and he emitted a low growl. A shiver climbed her spine. Something wasn’t right. A quick glance around the room showed nothing amiss. There were no shoes sticking out from beneath her curtains or any obvious signs of someone else in the room. She pulled out the knife strapped to her calf and held her breath, listening. Nothing.

Striding to the opposite wall, she checked behind each of the curtains, then rushed to the lamp Diana had left for her and turned it up. Nothing under the bed. No one was in the room. She put a hand on her hip, studying the room again in the hope of discovering what had triggered Cay’s reaction and in turn, her apprehension. Her dog sniffed around, but didn’t seem to focus on any spot in particular.

The latch was open on the window on the north side of the room. She hadn’t left it open, but despite the much-colder weather here in England, Diana firmly believed in airing out the rooms daily. Perhaps she had left it unlatched. Besides, her chamber was on the second floor, so it would require an uncommonly industrious thief to commit a successful break-in.

After snapping the latch closed, she looked inside the wardrobe and checked each drawer of her dressing table and chest of drawers, just to be sure. A light knock on the door startled her, and she nearly dropped her knife.

Diana strode into the room. “I thought you might want some help getting out of your gown.”

“You nearly scared me to death.” She placed her hand over her heart to still its frantic pace. “Did you have the window open earlier?

“Not today.” She waved her hand in that direction. “You’ve been outside. It’s much too cold.” Her eyes shifted to Catherine. “Why do you ask?”

“I noticed an open latch when I returned.” She turned and sucked in a deep breath as Diana loosened her stays.

“I don’t remember leaving it unlatched, but I may have.”

Something still didn’t seem right, but Catherine decided to let it drop. Nothing was missing or out of place. Perhaps her instincts weren’t up to snuff due to the long trip and strange environment.

“Thank you, I can manage from here. You go get some sleep.” There were smudges under Diana’s eyes, and she still hadn’t gained back the weight she had lost on the ship. Catherine hugged her and pushed her toward the door. When it clicked closed, she removed her gown, stays, and underclothes, and slipped a night rail over her head. Moving quickly, she put her gown and other garments in the wardrobe. She layered a dressing gown over her night rail, then added a shawl for extra warmth. After grabbing the journal from the dressing table, she climbed onto the bed and pulled up the coverlet.

The cover of the journal was soft and worn between her hands, conjuring an image of her great-grandmother sitting in her bed the same way she was, carefully recording her day on its pages. The placement of her marker indicated that she was more than a third of the way through, but she had learned nothing of interest and there had been no mention of the diamond tiara. She skimmed through three more entries about the household accounts, a remedy for a rash the gardener developed each time he worked among the roses, and finally came across a different sort of entry. It detailed a dinner party held at Walsley. It seemed that they were entertaining visitors from Russia, Spain, and France, but it wasn’t clear who they were or why they were there.