My Unfair Lady (2 page)

   "You have a knife on your person? Is it beneath your skirts as well?" inquired the Duke of Monchester, staring at the ruffles in alarm. He'd never met another woman like her before. Boredom had become an almost constant companion to him, yet the moment he'd walked into her presence, the world had suddenly come alive, this woman somehow making the very air sparkle.

   Summer could feel laughter welling up inside. His expression looked so funny! It was a good thing she'd given up carrying her gun around her calf after they'd left Arizona. But she'd never give up the knife her Apache friend Chatto had given her. "Of course."

   The duke raised a golden brow. "May I inquire what else might be under there?"

   "No, ya' may not," Maria spat, her pale eyes sparkling with anger, her black hair nearly lifting from her head with the force of it as Chi-chi continued to yip and growl and squirm to get out of her arms and find a vulnerable place in the man's clothing. "Ya' ain't no gentleman, and I suggest ya' leave this house at once!"

   Summer didn't know what it was, but the duke's attempts to insult her didn't bother her in the least. After all, she was used to this type of man, although he used his prowess differently. And the laughter that kept bubbling up inside her had to be released, first in giggles and then outright guffaws, until the tears ran down her cheeks and she slapped her leg to get it all out.

   Maria's eyes narrowed. "I don't see nothing funny a'tall."

   "Neither do I," said the almost-gentleman, but his face was alight with humor and a grin kept twitching at his lips, as if he didn't smile very often and his mouth wasn't used to the configuration.

   Summer wiped the tears from her eyes. "Don't you see, Maria? He only came to get some amusing gossip. He's got enough ammunition already to completely destroy my hopes for entering polite society. At this point, my only option is to try and buy his silence, along with his sponsorship, if I can."

   Maria humphed.

   The duke nodded his head at the black-haired beauty, studying her exotic looks. Where had these women come from, anyway? "Who are you?"

   "Her friend," spat Maria. "Although I'm sure ya' wouldn't know a thing about friends, now, would ya'?"

   "Enough, Maria. Take Chi-chi and go now. Let me see if his lordship's silence can be bought."

   He leaned forward. "His Grace, not his lordship, and it will have to be a great deal of money, madam. This little tableau would keep the prince in stitches for a week, at least."

   Summer leaned forward as well, startling him enough with the move that he lunged back in his seat. "Your feelings are obvious, sir, but it's my under standing that the prince
does
like American girls. And the more unusual the better. So perhaps I'm doing myself a disservice by hiring you, for I'm sure your tales would only arouse his curiosity." And ruin her chances of being presented to the Queen, she thought silently to herself. And that was her true goal—for surely that conservative woman's acceptance would meet with the approval of New York's own queen of society, the formidable Mrs. Astor.

   He digested her words for a moment, then nodded. "I'm willing to listen to your business proposition."

   "Good." Summer grinned at him and rang a little bell on the table. Her footman entered with the tea tray, face flushed and eyes averted. Maria had urged Summer to hire him because he seemed to lack the snobbishness of most of his kind, or so she said. Summer felt sure his athletic build and charming face had something to do with it as well.

   "Thank you, Charles. That will be all." She had a suspicion Maria had set him up to spy on them, and waited until he'd left the room before she continued. "The proposition I have for you, sir, is a little unusual." She spoke and poured tea at the same time, unaware that she spilled most of the liquid onto the white lace covering the tray, too agitated over smoothing out that "twang" in her voice. She'd taken voice lessons in New York, but she still couldn't achieve that sophisticated smoothness. "I'd like to hire you to introduce me into society."

   The duke snatched the cup from her hand before the slopping tea could soil any more lace. "I believe I've already expressed to you my views on this subject. Do you honestly think I'd actually help an American dupe one of my fellow countrymen into giving her their title?"

   "Oh, but you misunderstand. I'm not searching for a husband."

   Those golden brows rose again in patent disbelief. "Then you are in a class by yourself."

   Summer set down her own teacup before she was tempted to toss it into his arrogant face. He obviously didn't believe her. "I'm already engaged with a man back home. A wonderful man, whose family is highly placed in society."

   "Aah." He relaxed back into his chair. "And you aren't quite up to their standards, is that it?"

   "What makes you think… No, never you mind. Your brain is as quick as your tongue, and I won't set myself up for your insults so easily again." She glowered at him. "Yes, I need to be brought up to their standards. I need to be presented to the Queen. And then I assure you, I'll leave your precious lords alone and head straight back to America."

   "To your wonderful American man?" His face fell as if something about that bothered him. Could he actually be upset that she preferred an American over one of his English lords?

   "I told you, I don't want a title."

   "I'm inclined to believe you, from that silly glaze in your eyes when you mention this American." An odd feeling swelled inside the duke's chest. Now why would it bother him to learn that she already had an intended? He refused to think about it any further. "Does this paragon of virtue have a name?"

   "Monte." The girl sighed when she spoke his name.

   His teacup clattered as he slapped it down on the table. "How much?"

   "How much—oh, money. Well, as I understand it, your estate is rather sadly in disrepair…"

   His blue eyes glittered. "That, madam, is none of your business."

   His tone suggested that she pry no further into his family matters, so he had to assume that it was her faulty American upbringing that made her blurt out: "But how do you support yourself?"

   "You are an ignorant savage, aren't you? Gentlemen don't work, madam. That is what makes them gentlemen."

   "You're blunt with your words, sir," she retorted as she jumped up and began to pace the confines of the drawing room. He made it obvious that he scrutinized her every move.

   
For such an unpolished woman,
he thought,
she had
remarkable grace
, as if she didn't so much as walk but
flow across the room. "As you are with your questions
. Don't they teach you American girls any manners?"

   "I'm not like most American girls."

   "That is rather obvious. You pour tea as if you were slopping hogs, yet you pace this room with such grace, I'd swear you were walking on water. How does a woman like you get made, anyway?"

   Summer laughed. Didn't he realize how funny the looks on his face were whenever he watched her? But perhaps only she created those puzzling frowns and that's why he wasn't used to being laughed at, the way his brows rose in astonishment when she did so. But he took it well; it even seemed to amuse him that she thought him funny when he wasn't trying to be.

   "If you let me hire you," she proposed, "you'd get to find out."

   He adjusted his cravat and smoothed back the hair that kept falling elegantly over his ears. His face settled into polite boredom. "I'm not that interested."

   "Would, let's say… a third interest in a railroad be enough to get you interested?" Summer had thought long and hard about what to offer him, and the way society in New York was about new money led her to believe the English may have that prejudice as well. Offering him cash might be something that wasn't
done
. The railroad was small, which was why Pa had given it to her, but profitable enough that she thought he wouldn't be able to say no.

   Although, any price would be worth gaining her the man she loved. She'd be willing to give away the entire investment, if needed.

   The duke frowned, fighting surprise and interest at the same time. He'd supported himself by entertaining the prince and was welcomed into the finest houses as a guest, all on the strength of that relationship. He wondered what it would be like to be independent again, to
not
have to seek out funny stories and humiliate others? Although, he reminded himself, those whom he exposed usually deserved it, but it'd be a relief not to have to depend on anyone else's generosity. And what she proposed wasn't exactly work, so it wouldn't betray his status as a gentleman.

   Summer found his face quite easy to read and, as long as she ignored what he said, found him almost pleasant.

   "I'd have to see the papers."

   She sauntered over to the sideboard, scooped the pile up, and laid them in his lap. He shook his head, as if she'd done something vulgar again, but began to peruse the papers with eagerness while she paced the room. He finally sat back with a sigh and studied her with such intensity, she felt her dander rise. This man didn't need a sword or a gun to threaten anyone. He did it with the look on his face and the cruelty of his words.

   "You're going to take a lot of work."

   Summer refused to rise to the bait and wondered how a man like him had been made.

   "That gown, for example—what is it, cotton? Give it to your maid… better yet, just burn it. And those eyebrows, don't you know what tweezers are for?" His voice lowered. "But your bones are good, I'll give you that, and your eyes…"

   He caught her up in his gaze, and Summer couldn't breathe, her foot frozen in midpace. She'd never felt anything like it before, as if he held her captive with just that look and she couldn't have fought away from it even with her knife. The hair rose on the back of her neck and she felt the warning of trouble—like the time she'd shot that claim jumper, as if she were being mortally threatened. And then she mentally cringed at the thought, for she'd promised herself never to think of that man's death again.

   The duke kept doing peculiar things to her. She found herself internally chanting Monte's name like a mantra just to break the spell he had over her. "Do your insults mean that you'll sponsor me?"

   He shook his head as if emerging from a trance. "Bloody hell, I suppose it does. I'll have to show the papers to my solicitor, of course. But I warn you now, I've never done anything like this, and I do
not
wish anyone to know about it, understood?"

   Summer nodded, brown curls flopping around her face, heart skipping with joy. If she could raise herself to this man's standards, Mrs. Astor would be easy.

   "And there's some things I don't know about women's fashion, like underwear and so forth." His eyes flashed back to hers, and Summer knew he expected her to be shocked by his words. So, ladies could not discuss underwear? See, he'd already taught her something.

   Summer nodded in feigned sympathy. "Of course. I understand you may have to do a little research yourself."

   His face fell, as if disappointed by her reaction. He looked at her hopefully again. "No matter. My current mistress is Lady Windolm. The Marchioness of Windolm. I'm sure she'd be able to enlighten me about some of the more delicate matters."

   Summer shrugged. "Excellent. But I'd prefer no one else knew of our arrangement as well. Can she be trusted to keep our secret?"

   The duke cocked his head at her, shoving back the blond curl that spilled over his left ear.
This crazy
woman
, he thought,
doesn't even know that one didn't
discuss
one's
mistress
with
another
woman
. "Madam, weren't you listening? I'm bloody well sleeping with her! If she can keep that a secret—"

   "Good," sighed Summer. "I'll look forward to meeting her, then."

   He stood, the gentleman in him hearing the tone of dismissal in her voice and automatically reacting to it. He smoothed the front of his blue coat, adjusted his cravat, and stepped toward her. She barely had to tilt up her face to look into his own, which confirmed Summer's first impression of his height. Yet he still didn't seem short to her. His presence negated any such considerations. She noticed that the color of his clothing brought out the blue in his eyes, making them stand out even more.

   He took her hand and brought it to his lips, the breath from his words warming the tops of her fingers. "You are a match for me, aren't you?"

   Summer snatched her tingling hand back. "What do you mean?"

   He shrugged. "One of these days, madam, I
will
shock you."

   Just as he turned to leave, Chi-chi came running into the room, Maria hard on her heels. "Give it to me, ya' little varmint!" she cried. The dog dived beneath Summer's skirts. "Don't think that'll save ya'." Maria sank to her knees and began lifting layers of petticoats.

   Summer didn't move, afraid she'd step on the little dog. "What's the matter?"