Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (24 page)

Distinctly feeling the need to sit down for a moment, instead he collected her gown and walked over to place it on the bed. “You didn’t misinterpret. I misspoke. Unintentionally, but there you have it. My … reason for inviting you here this holiday hasn’t altered.”

“Well. I am pleased to see that we both remain on the same page, so to speak.”

“As am I. For the moment, however, I prefer not to begin other female tongues wagging. The din is deafening.”

With a smile, she nodded. “I understand.”

“I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” he said, returning to the door.

“I’ll be gone in fifteen, then.”

*   *   *

Sophia walked down the short hallway and into the breakfast room. Her friends stood at the sideboard, Cammy nudging Keating out from in front of the sliced ham. A dozen other guests were already seated, chatting over their own breakfasts. “Good morning,” she said to no one in particular, and went to select her own fare.

Cammy kissed her on the cheek. “Good morning, my dear. Do you fancy a drive into Hanlith this morning?”

“I thought I might make another attempt at going riding. His Grace says several of them are venturing around the lake, and I’ve been wanting a closer look at the temple of Athena over on the far side.” She put an arm around her friend’s shoulders. “You and Keating should go into the village, though. The bakery there has the most delicious cinnamon biscuits I have ever eaten. Ever.”

“You’re certain?” Camille asked with a grin, shrugging off Keating’s poking finger and emphatic nodding.

“Of course I am.”

“Very well, then. We’ll be back in the afternoon, if you’d like a coze.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back, so take your time.”

She left them for the stables directly after breakfast to find Adam, Timmerlane, Francis Henning, the Hart sisters, Miss Prentiss, Prudence Jones, and Aubrey Burroughs selecting mounts for their ride. “Ah, there you are, Miss White,” Adam drawled. “I took the liberty of having your mare saddled. You have a fine eye for horseflesh, I have to say. I almost regret selling her to you.”

Well, that was well and diplomatically done. Sophia sent him a smile, making every attempt to ignore the disdainful looks the other females sent her. She actually preferred when they turned their backs, so she wouldn’t have to look at their faces. “It’s far too late for seller’s remorse, Your Grace. You may envy Copper from a distance.”

Adam checked what might have been an approach, and instead swung into big Zeus’s saddle. “You’re a heartless woman, Miss White.”

It was Aubrey Burroughs who offered her a hand up into the saddle before he mounted a pretty bay gelding. “Thank you, Mr. Burroughs,” she said, favoring him with a smile.

“Always happy to help a lovely lady,” he returned, tipping his hat.

The Hart sisters rode past her, both with their noses in the air, but other than noting that, she made every attempt to forget they even existed. Adam had spoken civilly to her in public, and compared to yesterday, she had to count that as a definite improvement.

The wind had swept most of the snow covering the lake into several large drifts against the east shore, while it had left a thin layer of ice coating the bare twigs and branches of the trees. The sight was exquisitely lovely. She understood why Adam didn’t like being at Greaves Park, but she found its stark beauty enchanting. In the spring it was no doubt doubly so.

“You’re being very quiet, Sophia,” Aubrey commented, leaving Miss Jones’s side and kneeing his bay up even with Copper.

“I was just admiring the scenery. Where do you call home, Mr. Burroughs?”

“I’ve a small estate just outside Bath,” he said. “It’s pretty, but nothing to compare with Greaves’s sprawl.”

“I’m certain it’s lovely. I’ve driven through the Cotswolds, though I’ve never stayed there. I’ve never seen a greener countryside or fatter sheep.”

“Well, you’re welcome to visit Farling any time you wish. My fat sheep would be happy to be complimented.”

She laughed. “I’m certain your sheep don’t care a fig for my opinion, but thank you.”

“I know
I
don’t care a fig for her opinion,” she heard Miss Rebecca mutter to her sister, and Miss Sylvia laughed behind her hand. In front of them, Helena Prentiss sent her a glance one generally reserved for stinging flies and then went back to her conversation with Lord Timmerlane.

Sophia didn’t know how he managed it, but somehow Adam gracefully maneuvered big Zeus between the sisters’ mounts. “I’ve noticed the snow has cleared from the lake,” he commented, his voice sounding just the slightest bit brusque. “And I happen to own several pairs of skates.”

“Oh, ice skating! I haven’t skated since the Thames froze over four years ago,” Rebecca exclaimed, reaching over to clutch his left sleeve. “We must do it! Say we shall, Your Grace.”

“That’s why I mentioned it. I suggest this afternoon. I have a suspicion we’ll see more snow tomorrow.”

While the Hart sisters loudly declared how much fun they were going to have and asked everyone but her if they would care to join in the festivities, Adam reined Zeus back until Sophia and Aubrey drew even with him. “And you, Miss White?” he asked, smiling. “Care to make an attempt at ice skating?”

“An attempt?” she countered, grinning back at him. “I’m a sterling ice skater.”

“Oh, really? Care to wager on that?”

“Definitely.”

ELEVEN

“You know,” Keating Blackwood said as he glided by with his laughing wife clinging to his arm, “if you didn’t want us here you might have just not repaired the bridge. Murder seems somewhat extreme.”

“I don’t know what you’re complaining about,” Adam returned with a short grin. “You look very graceful.”

“Bastard” floated back to him on the air.

Hiding most of his amusement at the profound lack of skill and coordination before him, Adam made a leisurely circle around the gaggle of skaters. Lassiter was the only one who lived as far north as he did, but the viscount wasn’t out on the ice.

Sylvia Hart flailed up to him, and he shifted a little to the side to avoid a collision. The gaggle had annoyed him from the moment he’d invited them. Now that he’d very nearly settled on one of the geese, the rest of them were nearly intolerable. “This is splendid, Your Grace,” she panted, nearly losing her footing when he failed to catch her and then finding her balance again. “I shall come here every year and skate!”

He nodded, reflecting that she and her sister were not going to be asked back again. Ever. His tolerance for nonsense had its limits. “You’re quite skilled.”

“Oh, I know. It’s always been like that. I attempt something, and suddenly everyone’s complimenting me.”

“Henning!” he called, glancing past her. “Let Miss Sylvia show you how it’s done.”

“Ah, thank you, Greaves,” Francis said, stumbling up to them. “This ain’t as easy as it looks.”

Once a bewildered-looking Sylvia, Henning in tow, headed back into the crowd of skaters, Adam returned his attention to Sophia. She was even worse at ice skating than Sylvia Hart, but at least she had no delusions about that. The grin on her face would have put the sun to shame if it had been shining, but despite that he wasn’t nearly as amused as she clearly was.

Circling around her and freely offering both advice and his arm, was Burroughs. Either Aubrey believed his rumor-quashing about Sophia not being his mistress, or Burroughs didn’t care.

“You’re scowling,” Keating said as he crossed by again.

“No I’m not.”

“Well, you have that look about you,” his friend amended. “As if you intend to do someone harm.”

Adam shook himself. Keating knew him better than most, but if he couldn’t disguise his temper from everyone, he was doing something wrong. “It’s going to snow tomorrow. I find that annoying,” he settled on.

“Mm-hm.” The Blackwoods came to a stop behind him. “This is an amusing outing,” Keating offered in a low voice. “To my surprise, you know how to have fun. It’s your own fault you have a dozen fluttery chits chasing after you, so I suggest you make the best of it. At least laugh at the severe lack of coordination.”

“I have been,” he returned in the same tone. “And I know whose fault this is.” His, of course, and now he could partly blame Sophia. She had no right to be more interesting than any other female present, and to cause him to make comparisons that would have her blushing and the other women in question mortified that he held them up to a Tantalus girl’s reflection and found them lacking. “Now give me your wife, and I’ll show her how skating is supposed to be done.”

“Just give her back,” Keating said with a short smile, cautiously moving closer as Adam offered his arm to Camille.

She transferred her grip to Adam, clutching his arm with both hands. “Thank you,” she said, her grin deepening. “I’d begun to worry that Keating would fall on me, but I didn’t want to make him more self-conscious.”

“I heard that,” Keating commented from behind them.

Letting Camille continue to lean on him, Adam made a slow circuit around the snow-cleared edges of the ice. Slowly she began to relax a little, and loosened her grip to stand more upright. “You’re doing quite well,” he complimented, “now that Keating’s not holding you back.”

She chuckled. “I didn’t imagine you as an ice skater,” she said. “But clearly you’ve done it often enough to do it well.”

“It’s mostly a memory from my youth,” he returned, refusing to let his mind drift back beyond that statement, to staying out on the lake until his fingers and toes were numb just to avoid going back into the house. “Like riding a horse, I suppose, it’s difficult to forget.”

With little effort they outdistanced Keating, and Adam steered them farther out onto the lake. Camille’s grip on his arm clenched as she skated over a dusting of snow, then lightened again. “What did you want to discuss then, Your Grace?” she asked.

Clearly Sophia didn’t have stupid friends. “You shared a room with Miss White when you both worked at the Tantalus, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

She frowned briefly. “Why? Because there were two beds in each room. We all shared.”

“I mean, why you and Miss White? You’re a marquis’s daughter. Before that … incident, you were the toast of the
ton.
”

“And after that ‘incident,’ as you call it, my parents turned me out, and none of my dear friends would look at me unless it was to deliver an insult. The Tantalus Club saved my life. It’s saved the life of nearly every female who works there.”

“I wasn’t making a commentary about the club. Merely about the reasoning behind your friendship.”

Camille took a breath. “To answer your question more directly, then, I was a bit … cautious of Sophia when we first met. She was born notorious, after all. But I think that, in a sense, gave her an advantage.”

That was quite possibly the last thing he’d expected to hear. “Explain.”

“She’s not … obligated to anyone. As long as Hennessy doesn’t acknowledge her, which he will never do, she will always be on the outside. Her situation is fixed. Or it was, anyway.” She frowned. “The Duke of Hennessy should have let her be; she certainly wasn’t harming anyone.”

“I would agree with that. In fact, I’ve been considering whether there’s a way to help her … situation.”

She sent him a sideways glance that nearly set her off balance again. “If you have an idea, please enlighten me. Because I haven’t been able to conjure anything practical at all.”

So much for his vague hope that Sophia’s clever friend would have discovered a crack or a crevasse that he’d overlooked. “Hennessy’s a difficult man to dissuade,” he said reluctantly. “He doesn’t require money, and there’s nothing nefarious in his past other than Sophia.”

Camille nodded. “He wants her to disappear, and to take any blows to his pride along with her. In my experience, a man will spend a great deal of time and money to protect his pride. Haybury has the money to challenge him, but Oliver is part of the club, and just as notorious, really. Hennessy would win that battle. I don’t think Sophia even told Diane and Oliver the details of her marriage.”

Behind them Keating had given up the chase and was circling in a very ungainly manner back to where the bulk of the skaters cavorted. Adam took a breath. “I generally deal with persons in one of three ways: blackmail, threats, or bribery. At least two of those would seem to be inappropriate for this situation. I attempted to encourage Sophia simply to run, but she won’t stand for seeing The Tantalus Club attacked.”

“Neither will I.” She looked down at her feet, which sent her stumbling again until he caught her shoulder to steady her. “I’m so angry,” she finally muttered, sending a swift look in Sophia’s direction. “She’s always managed, and I imagine she thinks that she’ll simply have to figure out how to manage Vicar Loines. But she won’t ever be able to escape, and he won’t ever have anything but a frown and a switch for her—if not something even worse. It’s … untenable, but I don’t know what to do about it.”

He could claim that he had his own troubles, but in truth Sophia’s plight concerned him at least as much as his own. After all, he could ask for Caroline’s hand this afternoon and be married tomorrow. Problem, such as it was, solved. Neither of them would likely be … happy, but that was hardly the point. He would keep his money and his properties, and that was what mattered. Sophia marrying the damned vicar would gain her nothing—not for herself, anyway. “I feel outflanked,” he said after a moment, wondering if Mrs. Blackwood would know how rarely he admitted to such a thing.

Slowing, she glanced up at him again. “She likes you, you know. Not your lineage, not your income, not how you make your way in the world. You. And I hope you value that.”

“I do.”

“Then save her.”

For a long moment he gazed at the ragged tree line. “That’s a fine thing to ask, the moment after you declare that you don’t have a clue how to perform that particular miracle.”

“You’re a duke, and you have money, and people in general are terrified of you. That has to count for something.”

He snorted. “I certainly hope it does.”