Virginia Henley (50 page)

Nick was beside her in an instant. “Don’t you dare take it off!” As he took her hand, the morning sunlight glinted off the diamonds and sapphires, reflecting the fire within the jewels. “Alexandra, this ring is precious to me, not because of its stones but because it belonged to my mother. If you would keep this ring, it would fill my heart with happiness.”

Alex stared at him. These exact words had been said to her the night Kit gave her the ring.
It wasn’t Kit who gave it to me. It was Nick!
She chided herself,
Don’t be absurd! Don’t start mixing them up because they are twins.
Her mind flew back to that night on the lake, sitting in the punt.
Kit spoke of his deep and abiding love for Hatton Hall and stole my heart. I felt a oneness with Christopher that I never felt before. When he kissed me, I didn’t want him to stop.
Her inner voice insisted,
That’s because it wasn’t Christopher! It was Nicholas!

Nick brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek with reverence, and Alexandra realized it was a gesture he did often. He had done it that night on the lake when he said,
Look at me, Alex, while I tell you what is in my heart.

Her heart now contracted. She pushed his fingers away from her cheek and held out her hand adorned with diamonds. Her fingers began to tremble. “
You
gave me your mother’s ring; it wasn’t Christopher at all, was it?” Her voice sounded strange, even to her own ears.

Gray eyes looked into green, and he knew it was useless to lie to her. “It was I who gave you the ring, Alexandra.”

Her face showed she was appalled. “How could you?”

“The dinner was planned down to the last detail, then Kit became ill that night.”

“I don’t mean how could you pretend to be Christopher! I mean how could you seduce me into becoming engaged to your twin?”

“Now I curse myself for doing it, but at the time, it seemed the proper thing to do, Alex.”

“The proper thing to do? Am I hearing correctly? It was the most highly improper thing I’ve ever heard of, Nick Hatton!” Alex felt betrayed. Nicholas had actually proposed to her on behalf of his brother. Such a thing would be impossible if he loved her. She felt as if a cruel hand had taken hold of her heart and was slowly crushing it. She used the only weapon she had to strike out and hurt him; she used her tongue. In a mocking voice she threw his own words back at him.
“I desire no other lady but you to be Lady Hatton, the châtelaine of Hatton Hall. I want its beauty and permanence to wrap its strength about you and keep you secure. I want to see your children running and laughing across Hatton’s lawns. Then I want it passed down to your grandchildren, and I hope the future generations cherish it with the same deep and abiding passion that I feel!”
With great haste, Alex threw on her riding dress and pulled on her boots.

Exasperated, Nick took hold of her shoulders and gave them a firm shake. “Hellion, will you listen to me?”

“While you ply me with more lies? Take your hands from me!”

“Willful little bitch!” he cursed.

“You are a devil, Nick Hatton! I hate you!”

His first impulse was to stride after her and drag her back, but Nick knew that he was in the wrong. There was absolutely no excuse for what he had done to Alexandra. Perhaps it was best to let her cool down and think things through. When she realized how much he loved her, she would change her mind and come back. Surely she must know how deeply he loved and cherished her? Had he not shown her over and over during the past two days?

When an hour passed and she had not returned, Nicholas gradually began to doubt that Alex truly loved him. He packed his bag, went down to the stables, and saddled Satin. Then he rode to Curzon Street. When he entered the stables that belonged to the Hatton town house, he saw Kit’s Thoroughbred, Renegade. The last person he wished to see at this moment was his twin. Without dismounting, he urged Satin from the stables and headed to Hatton.

Alexandra was almost at Longford Manor before she remembered the gown and the cashmere shawl for Dottie. Her eyes flooded with tears. It would mean more lies, and she was utterly sick and tired of deception.

 

That evening, Christopher Hatton stood before the mirror in his brother’s bedchamber at Curzon Street. He knew if he was to pull off the deception, he must pay attention to the details. He brushed his hair back into the style that Nick favored. Kit was dressed in his best black evening clothes and was carefully fashioning his muslin neckcloth into his twin’s favorite style. He spoke to the reflection in the glass as if it were Nicholas. “Our appearance is identical, as is our voice, and I can be every bit as nonchalant as you, while I effect your lion’s pride.” His eyes narrowed as he assessed himself honestly. “The only thing you have more of is confidence, damn you to hellfire!”

Kit heard the front door open to admit Rupert, then heard his friend bid Fenton a good evening. He ruthlessly crushed a feeling of panic and before the servant said anything further, Kit called down, “Rupert, come up, will you?”

When Rupert saw that Kit’s bedchamber was empty, he turned toward Nick’s with surprise.

“Kit has talked me into going with you to White’s tonight. He wants me to get his marker back from our insufferable cousin, Jeremy Eaton. Since I am not a member of the club, I shall have to go as your guest. You don’t object, do you, Rupert?”

“Of course not, Nicholas, but where’s Kit?”

“Left for Hatton this afternoon. Said something about wanting to spend the evening with Alexandra.”

“Well, that’s good, I warrant. Actually, until the engagement dinner I had begun to doubt he would ever come up to snuff and propose,” Rupert confided.

“Kit has far more courage than most people realize,” he said sharply. He picked up his top hat and cane. “Shall we go?”

When they arrived at White’s, they found it rather crowded for a Tuesday evening and concluded that most of the men had left their wives in the country, while they indulged their town vices.

A quick surveillance of the gaming rooms told Kit that the bloodsucking Eaton had not yet arrived. He cursed under his breath; waiting for the swine would add to the tension of his nerves. Three different men greeted him as Lord Hatton; three times he corrected them. Their responses were almost identical when he said that he was Nicholas. When each congratulated him on serving in the army that had defeated Napoleon and welcomed him back to London, Kit tried not to grind his teeth.

He bought chips from the cashier and strolled toward the faro table, which was Nick’s preferred game though certainly not his. He played negligently, both winning and losing, and knew that once Eaton arrived he would move to the
vingt-et-un
table. As the evening dragged on, Kit would have given his eyeteeth for a whiskey, but he politely accepted the glass of claret Rupert brought him, since it was what his twin usually drank when he gambled.

Suddenly, the hair stood up on the back of Christopher’s neck, and he realized that his instincts were warning him that his enemy had just entered the gaming room. Without turning around, Kit left the faro table and walked casually toward his game of preference.

Rupert ambled after him and nodded to young Lord Mitford who was a casual acquaintance of the twins.

“H’lo, Harm. Have you been waiting for me?” Jeremy drawled.

“Sorry to disappoint you. It’s Nicholas, I’m afraid, but I have indeed been waiting for you.”

Eaton was taken aback for a moment, then seemed to recover. “I have business with your twin; where is he?”

“I am here in his stead. You will have to do business with me. I understand you hold one of Lord Hatton’s markers. I’m here to win it back.” Kit invited, “Shall we play?”

“Ah, the gallant captain riding to his twin’s rescue. Well, it isn’t the first time, is it?” Eaton sneered. “You are reputed to have the devil’s own luck, but I predict that is about to run out.”

Rupert stood rooted to the floor behind Hatton’s chair as he heard the uncivil exchange.

Kit Hatton caught himself before he ran his fingers through his hair. He knew it was a nervous gesture that could give his identity away. Instead, he kept his hands busy by picking up the deck of cards and dealing them in rotation. Deliberately, he dealt himself the first black jack, which determined that the first deal would be his.

Kit swiftly gathered the cards together and shuffled them for a long time. He turned up the top card, showed it to all the players, and placed it faceup at the bottom of the pack. Then he dealt one card to each player and waited while they placed their wagers. Each player bet two chips, and Kit called for the bets to be doubled, his prerogative as dealer.

With a smirk, Eaton redoubled his bet, then watched Hatton deal each player one card faceup. The smirk left Eaton’s face as he looked at the ace Hatton dealt himself.

With a casualness he did not feel, Kit Hatton turned up a king, which added up to twenty-one, and everyone paid him. Without looking at Eaton, he picked up the deck of cards, shuffled them, and again dealt each player one card. Again they made their bets.

And again, Kit dealt himself an ace.

Jeremy Eaton jumped to his feet. “Hatton, you are cheating!”

A deathly hush fell over the table at the magnitude of the accusation. Kit, feigning outrage at the insult, stood up and faced his cousin. “Are you challenging me?”

“Yes! I am challenging your honesty!”

“If you are challenging me to a duel, Eaton, I accept.”
Yes! He’s swallowed the bait and challenged me before everyone!

The blood drained from Jeremy Eaton’s face.

“Rupert, you will act as my second. As the challenged party, I believe I have the choice of weapons, time, and place,” Kit stated. “Green Park at dawn. I am used to my army weapons, but I do happen to own duelling pistols. Choose your second.”

Through bloodless lips, Eaton asked Trevor Mitford to act as his second and nodded stiffly when Mitford accepted.

Kit Hatton felt his blood surge, and his heartbeat deafened him. He had pulled off the first part of his plan. The die was cast and there was no going back now. He gathered his winnings and strode from the room.

Trevor Mitford looked at Rupert. “Dawn is only a few hours away! This gives us very little time to make the arrangements!”

“We’ll need a surgeon.” Rupert spoke as if he were dazed.

“I have a friend who’s a doctor,” Mitford offered. “I’ll contact him immediately.”

Rupert turned to speak to Jeremy Eaton but discovered that he had already left White’s gaming room. A sea of male faces was staring at him; Rupert lifted his chin and stared back.

 

Jeremy Eaton tasted fear. He had been coerced into fighting a duel with a formidable opponent—not the twin cousin who was a weakling. He scurried along St. James’s Street and turned toward Piccadilly, frantically wondering how he could extract himself from the trap he had fallen into. His legs trembled as if they wouldn’t hold him up much longer, so he hailed a hackney. “Just drive!”

Eaton’s mind was in such turmoil he didn’t notice his surroundings until the cabby drove through the Covent Garden area. As he gazed through the window he noticed a sign that said BOW STREET. Eaton instantly recognized that salvation was at hand.

 

It was past two in the morning before Rupert and Trevor Mitford had inspected the duelling sites in Green Park and agreed upon one that was secluded by sheltering trees. Mitford’s carriage dropped Rupert off in Curzon Street, then went to pick up the surgeon. It was almost three when Rupert climbed the stairs to Nick Hatton’s bedchamber.

Rupert’s eyes widened when he saw Nicholas. He was dressed in his Royal Horse Artillery uniform. It was slightly faded, but emblazoned with his captain’s insignia, it lent him a most commanding air. “Won’t you get in trouble, wearing your officer’s uniform while engaged in a duel?”

Kit laughed. “I’m in trouble anyway, since duels are expressly forbidden by the Crown.”

“Too true! You could call it off,” Rupert suggested, running a finger inside his neckcloth to loosen it a tad.

For answer, Kit Hatton handed Rupert the leather case that held his duelling pistols. “Facing this uniform will make Eaton piss himself with fear!” His eyes glittered dangerously.

“Y’know, I don’t think Kit actually wants you to shoot Jeremy Eaton over a gambling debt,” Rupert offered.

“You are wrong. That is exactly what Kit wants.”

Rupert weighed the leather case. “I’m not an expert with guns . . . but I gather I am supposed to inspect these.”

“No need. I cleaned them earlier. You’ll find everything in order. Balls and gunpowder are in the case.”

“I suppose in France you were under fire every day . . . but I’m a little unsettled by all this.”

“A gun can be your best friend, Rupert.” A combination of fear and excitement made his eyes glitter like black diamonds.

Rupert licked his dry lips. “It’s getting close to four. Perhaps we had better get going.”

The two men walked to the corner of Curzon and turned down Clarges. When Rupert passed his town house, he glanced up at the tall building as if he wanted nothing more than to seek the safety of his own bed. They crossed Piccadilly, entered Green Park, and followed a path that led them to a heavily treed area. They made out two carriages and a small knot of men gathered in the darkness and walked toward them.

Rupert found Trevor Mitford. “Did you get a surgeon?”

Mitford nodded his head in the direction of one of the coaches. “I haven’t seen hide or hair of Eaton since he left White’s.”

“Let’s hope he doesn’t show! This is all so unreal.”

More spectators arrived, confirming that the
ton
was addicted to blood sport. “May I inspect the duelling pistols?” Mitford requested. When Rupert handed them over, Mitford opened the case and lifted one of the pistols, but the darkness prevented him from seeing much. “Seem to be in order.” He handed them back.