What the Duke Doesn't Know (10 page)

“We'll stay at Langford House,” he said to the teeming street. “I've directed the post boys there.”

“Your father's house?”

“Yes. They're in the country, of course.”

“Of course?”

“No one's in town at this time of year.”

“There are people everywhere,” Kawena pointed out. She was seized by a desire to argue with him, to rouse some emotion, make him look at her. Also, his remark was nonsensical.

“Society is away, I meant.”

“These people are not a part of English society?” She gestured at the street.

“Not by some people's measure.”

He wasn't going to engage with her. It only made her want to push harder. “Why not go to an inn, as before?”

James closed his lips on the true answer—because he wasn't sure how to be alone with her anymore. Fighting a constant desire to take her in his arms was wearing on him. Langford House would be…safer. It was more spacious, and there would be servants constantly about. They wouldn't be in each other's pockets as they had been for all the tantalizing hours of this journey. It would be easier to protect her as well, and it would show anyone who might wonder that she was a friend of his family, to be respected. His parents already knew about Kawena. Or, Alan did, at least, which meant the rest of the family soon would. She wasn't a secret to keep.

As they rattled over a stretch of uneven cobblestones, he became conscious of another motive, which startled and puzzled him. He wanted to show Kawena what she'd cast aside when she rejected his proposal. Which was ridiculous. He was relieved that she didn't wish to be married. He'd gone over the reasons why it wouldn't have done at all. But it rankled to be dismissed as if he was some half-pay officer with no breeding or prospects. A look at Langford House would show her… What, exactly?

Taut with bewildered frustration, James shoved the thought out of his mind. The thing was to get this job done, fulfill his promise to help, and then return Kawena to Ariel. After that… Well, that would be after. It would be over. Whatever “it” was.

They pulled up before the splendid facade of his father's town house in late afternoon. As one of the post boys went to ring the bell, James handed Kawena down from the chaise. The feel of her fingers in his elicited memories so physically intense that he dropped her hand.

The door was opened by a footman unfamiliar to James. He had a moment's uneasiness. If they were turned away… But the fellow recognized him right enough, and after a momentary flash of surprise, quickly hidden, he ushered them inside. Kawena gazed about the lofty entry with gratifying awe. “We've come to stay a day or two,” James said. “No time to send word ahead, I'm afraid.”

“Yes, my lord. If you'd care to sit in the drawing room, I'll inform Mrs. Hastings.”

James didn't wish to wait anywhere. He wanted to go to his customary bedchamber and sit there, alone, until he was able to clear his muddled mind. But he couldn't abandon Kawena, so he led her up the grand staircase and into the indigo silk–draped parlor where his mother received visitors.

“All this is just for your family?” she asked.

He nodded.

She wandered about the room, examining the furnishings and ornaments, looking suitably impressed. He'd accomplished that much, at least. For whatever it was worth.

When a middle-aged, black-clad woman bustled in, James recognized her face, as he had not her name. Mrs. Hastings was one of the main housekeeper's assistants. No doubt she'd been left in London to oversee the town house while most of the servants accompanied his parents to the country. James introduced Kawena as a friend of the family. Mrs. Hastings gave no sign that she found it odd for one of the duke's sons to arrive with an unattended young lady. She merely assured them that chambers were being prepared and invited Kawena to accompany her upstairs. Ignoring Kawena's uneasy glances, James seized his opportunity and fled.

When James came back downstairs some two hours later, refreshed but conscious that he hadn't inquired about the possibility of dinner, he was startled to hear his name called in a familiar voice. He turned from the foot of the stairs to find his brother Robert looking down at him from above. “What are you doing here?” Robert asked.

“I might ask the same,” he replied, not really wishing to explain his presence. “Don't you have rooms of your own in town? And aren't you always
out
of town at this season?”

Robert descended the steps with the languid grace of an acknowledged Pink of the
ton
. As always, in his next oldest brother's presence, James felt a bit shabby. Even in full dress uniform, he couldn't compete. Robert could look elegant covered in molasses and chicken feathers, as James had reason to know. Now, dressed in immaculate pantaloons, a coat that might have been an advertisement for his tailor, and a neckcloth of dizzying complexity, he was a sight to rouse sighs of envy from any aspirant to fashion.

“I do,” he replied. “And I am. Certain…matters have kept me in London this summer.”

“Matters?”

Robert raised one russet eyebrow. “Rather like whatever brought you here, perhaps? You hate London.”

Face to face in the entry hall, the brothers eyed each other. His greater height ought to give him an advantage, James thought. But Robert's assurance more than overcame that factor. The friendly rivalry that had always bubbled amongst their crew of six brothers surfaced. They were at an impasse. Then, to his surprise, Robert conceded a crumb of information. “I stopped by to look for a book in Papa's library,” he said.

This made no sense. Robert didn't read. It was one of the things they had in common. James wondered if this was some sort of diversion, and what Robert could really be up to.

“I thought he might have a copy of Rolfe's
History of the Assyrian Empire
, but it appears I was mistaken.”

“History of the…what?” These were not words he would ever have expected to hear from Robert's lips.

“We need a citation,” Robert added absently, tapping his fingers on the curving banister.

James hadn't seen his brother since Nathaniel's wedding some weeks ago. Could he have gone mad in that short period of time? “What the devil are you talking about?”

Robert acknowledged his bewilderment with a half smile. “I'm involved in a…contest of sorts. With a certain young lady.”

“A contest that includes history books and…what was it, Assyrians? What the deuce is an Assyrian?”

“They were an ancient people. Byron mentions them in one of his poems.” To James's utter astonishment, he proceeded to recite a few lines. “‘The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.'” He shrugged. “Pathetic doggerel, she calls it. Can't say I disagree.”

James realized that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it. But he remained incapable of speech.

Robert laughed. “I don't wonder you're surprised,” he said. “I often am myself. I'm attempting to prove that I'm not a useless fribble, you see.”

“To this ‘young lady'?”

Robert nodded.

“Why?” James knew that Robert attracted plenty of female attention, with scarcely any effort. He'd seen girls fluttering 'round his brother at the
ton
parties he'd been harried into attending.

“Why indeed?” was the incomprehensible reply.

“I never knew you to take so much trouble for a girl.”

“Perhaps I never encountered such a challenge.”

That sounded like nonsense. Robert had never appeared interested in meeting any challenges, particularly over a woman. Lounging and primping and ironic amusement were more his style.

“But you haven't said what you're doing here,” his brother added, clearly changing the subject. “Are you preparing to go to sea again?”

“Er, no. I'm…helping out a…family friend.” It sounded weak in James's ears. Actually, he was surprised that Robert hadn't yet gotten the news about Kawena's arrival. The family grapevine was usually much faster than that. Preternaturally fast, in fact.

“Friend?” he echoed.

“Hello?”

James turned to find Kawena standing on the stairs above them. Robert raised his eyebrows and said, “Ah.”

James wanted to tell him that there wasn't any “ah” involved. But that wouldn't have helped. Nor would it have been quite true.

Kawena looked down at Lord James and a man who must be one of his brothers. The latter gazed back at her with alert curiosity. Lord James seemed uncomfortable, and Kawena earnestly wished herself elsewhere.

She was overwhelmed by this huge house and its silent-footed servants. Sitting upstairs in the opulent bedchamber assigned to her, she'd heard no sounds at all. The din of London was erased inside these walls, which should have been pleasant, but was in fact rather eerie. Mrs. Hastings had been kind enough, but distant, perhaps disapproving. Kawena hadn't been able to read her expression. The reception here had been so different from Ariel's easy welcome. She had been made to understand, without a word being spoken, that it wasn't the usual thing for her to arrive with only Lord James. This must be a taste of the censure Lord James had threatened. And while she didn't truly care what Mrs. Hastings thought of her, she didn't like feeling at a disadvantage, and she resented being stowed out of sight like surplus cargo.

Uncertain if she was supposed to wait for a summons before leaving the bedchamber, she had muttered and paced. Finally, she'd had to escape the hushed, solitary elegance. Why couldn't they have gone to an inn? Only as she gazed down at the two men in the entryway did it occur to her that inns cost money. She hadn't considered Lord James's purse. This thoughtless lapse made her flush with embarrassment and feel even more off balance.

“This is my brother Robert,” Lord James said. “Robert, this is Miss Kawena Benson, a…a friend of Ariel's.”

“Ah, Ariel's,” he replied, as if this explained something.

Why had he called her that? This wasn't part of the “story” they had agreed to tell. Now she would be expected to know things about Ariel, to provide a history of acquaintance that she did not possess. And why did Lord James look so unhappy? Was it this new brother? Kawena examined him. He was slighter than the ones she'd met so far, with a narrower face and paler coloring; his hair was closer to red than auburn. His clothes had a subtle cut and drape that suggested both care and expense. Even an outsider like Kawena could tell he was very fashionable. She wondered if he was one of the dandies her father had mocked.

Lord Robert offered her a beautiful bow. “Delighted to meet you.”

After a long moment, Kawena remembered to curtsy. People actually did this. She'd seen it during her journey. When her father had explained the gesture years ago, with a very amusing demonstration, she hadn't taken it seriously.

“I'm sad to say that I haven't heard from Ariel or Alan lately,” Robert added. He walked gracefully up the stairs and offered Kawena an arm. “You must tell me all about yourself.”

“We're on our way out,” said Lord James.

“Indeed? Where to?”

Kawena watched Lord Robert glance from her to his brother. His expression conveyed polite skepticism, as if silently noting that they wore no hats or other outdoor garments.

“In a moment,” Lord James amended.

He didn't wish to talk to his brother, Kawena thought. Or, he didn't wish her to talk to him. Why not?

Lord Robert ignored him. “Surely you have time for a bit of conversation?” he asked Kawena.

“No!” said Lord James.

Abruptly tired of catering to his moods and of trying to figure out what silly story he wanted to tell this time, Kawena took the offered arm. Lord James had been impossible since their…interlude by the sea. It wasn't fair. She realized that she'd rather enjoy making him as uncomfortable as she'd been feeling. And she was not going to be dragged off again without consultation. “Of course,” she said.

Lord Robert led her back to the drawing room. “Ring for some Madeira,” he said to Lord James. “And perhaps…” He looked at Kawena. “Are you hungry?”

Kawena nodded. She'd been hoping there was some sort of dinner in the offing.

“I expect Mrs. Hastings could conjure a few sandwiches.”

With a thunderous glance, Lord James went to ring the bell.

“Splendid.” Lord Robert sat down beside her on a sofa, looking very much in charge. “Now, tell me all.”

Kawena glanced at her traveling companion. He appeared to be sulking. That was it. She'd had enough. “I'm not really a friend of Ariel's,” she said. “I met her when I tried to shoot Lord James.” Of course she hadn't planned to actually fire the gun, but she enjoyed the astonishment on her listener's face almost as much as the chagrin on Lord James's. There was an art to telling a story, after all. “I thought he had stolen my father's treasure, you see.”

“Treasure,” echoed Lord Robert, his blue eyes alight with interest. “This sounds like quite a tale.”

“There is no tale,” interjected his brother. “It was a mistake. And I would appreciate it if you would not—”

The footman appeared. Lord Robert requested the wine and sustenance with assured charm, then turned back to Kawena.

“Well, he did convince me that he had not taken it,” she continued. “Eventually. But it looked very bad. His ship was the only one that had visited the island at the time it went missing, you see.”

“Island?” prompted Lord Robert.

“My home.”

“Ah, you met at one of James's far-flung ports of call?” He looked back and forth between them speculatively.

“We never met. My father would not have allowed it.”

“Miss Benson's father, a respectable Englishman, had settled there,” put in Lord James. “In the South Seas.”

The word “respectable” rankled a bit. Did he imagine she required his endorsement? “I had to track down the thief, of course,” Kawena added.

“Did you?” Lord Robert appeared to be fascinated by the idea.

She looked at him. “Of course. No one else was going to do it.”

“Why shouldn't she?” put in Lord James, unexpectedly belligerent.

“Why not indeed?”

“So we are questioning the ship's crew to find the one responsible,” Kawena finished.

“James's ship. You and he.” He cocked his head at her, blandly affable.

“Correct.” Kawena had no idea what he really thought. She didn't think she cared. She was weary of puzzling over these Englishmen. And very hungry indeed.

The footman returned with a tray. Kawena quickly devoured several small sandwiches and drank a glass of wine, conscious of Lord Robert's speculative gaze. His brother was irritatingly silent.

When the plate was empty, Lord Robert said, “I know a young lady who would be most interested to meet you. I think you would like her as well. Why don't you both come along with me to a gathering at her house tonight?”

“A lady?” Kawena looked down at her rumpled gown. Lord James had made it very clear that ladies would be the ones most likely to disapprove of her. And the English seemed positively fanatical about proper dress. It was one thing to twit the Gresham brothers, another to venture into the perilous waters of “society.”

“Out of the question,” Lord James declared. “We're not in town to make visits.”

“It wouldn't be a formal call,” his brother said. “More of a family occasion. The hostess is a second cousin of ours. A connection of Mama's, that is. It would be a chance for Miss Benson to see a bit of London.”

“She doesn't like London.”

The fact that he was right did not make his arrogance any more palatable. And perhaps there were parts of the city that she would like. How did he know?

“You have something else to do this evening?” Lord Robert asked.

“We don't need anything else to do.”

It was too much. The appearance of his brother seemed to have turned Lord James into a tyrant. She would not have decisions made for her in this high-handed way. “I'd be happy to go,” said Kawena.

Lord James turned on her. “You will do no such thing!”

“I beg your pardon. You do not dictate my choices. I'm sure Lord Robert will escort me if you don't wish to go.”

“You're not going out alone with Robert!”

The latter was watching them with what appeared to be rapt fascination. Kawena did not point out that she had been going all sorts of places alone with
him
. Nor did Lord Robert, though she suspected that he wanted to.

“We are here to catch a thief, and for no other reason,” added Lord James. “We have no time for visits.”

“You were planning to question someone tonight?” Kawena asked.

“No, but—”

“Then I don't see why we should not—”

“You will do as I say!”

Kawena sprang to her feet. “Can we go right now?” she said to Lord Robert.

He checked the mantel clock and nodded amiably. “I'll tell the footman to find us a hack.”

“I suppose I have to put on a bonnet.”

“Not necessary for an evening party.”

“Oh, good,” Kawena replied, moving toward the drawing room door.

Lord James blocked her path. “I do not think this is a good—”

She put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. He jerked away as if her touch burned. Hurt by this excessive reaction, Kawena jostled past him and strode out.

* * *

In the end, they all three crowded into a cab. Distracted by the feel of Kawena's shoulder pressed against his, James didn't hear the address Robert gave the driver. Indeed, as they rattled off, he was plagued by an unfamiliar anxiety. Although his mother was the kindest of women, she had some really prickly relations, and he feared that this lady they were going to see might be rude to Kawena. A great many society matrons would be—an unknown young woman showing up uninvited, accompanied only by him and his brother. Kawena had no idea how unpleasant such society people could be. Though when he came to think of it, the high sticklers weren't likely to be in town at this time of year. James sat back in the seat, somewhat relieved.