What the Duke Doesn't Know (17 page)

“I did not! What do you think me? Don't answer that.” He sipped from the glass.

“But how could they know?” Kawena asked. She surveyed the people ranged before them. A great many seemed to be looking their way.

Lord Robert shrugged. “Certain kinds of news travels with astonishing speed. As fast as a horse can gallop, I suppose. Scandals, indiscretions, possession of a large fortune. James said you went to the
ton
's favorite jeweler to discover their value, after all.”

“I was told our inquiry was confidential,” Kawena replied. She had no objection to the truth, but the intensity of the gazes fixed upon her was startling.

“I'm sure they meant it to be.” Lord Robert finished his wine. “But a great pile of jewels…the story's irresistible.”

“To those who have nothing better to do than gossip,” said Flora, with a severe glance in his direction.

He turned away from her with a weary sigh. “It looks as if James is getting on with this wife prospect, at any rate.”

“What?” said Kawena.

Lord Robert indicated his brother and a ginger-haired young lady, deep in conversation. “Ariel's well-known in our family for promoting perfect matches. When he first came to stay, James asked her to find him a proper English bride.” He smiled as if this was amusing.

Kawena couldn't help repeating the words, “Proper English bride.” They came out before she could stop them. “Proper. To marry.” Immediately, she flushed at the stupidity of this, but the others didn't seem to have heard.

“I thought better of Ariel,” said Miss Jennings. “You make it sound like…like picking fruit, or something equally insulting.”

He had been doing this when she'd first entered the garden and pointed a pistol at him, Kawena realized. And all along, ever since.

“She promised no more than to present him to some likely young women,” Lord Robert replied. He sounded annoyed, and as if he'd had more than one glass of wine. “It's no more than is commonly done.”

“In your circles,” Miss Jennings retorted. “At the disgusting displays of the Marriage Mart.”

Even when he'd held her in his arms, when he'd made his forced proposal to her, he'd been engaged in this hunt. He had known he wanted—told his family he wanted—someone quite different from her. She had never been part of his future. And if her plans might have started to include him…

“People have to meet,” said Lord Robert. “If they keep their heads buried in dusty old books—”

“I knew you were mocking me!” Miss Jennings exclaimed.

“You put everything I say in the worst possible light.” He stared at her, arms rigid at his sides. “I see there's no convincing you. It's useless to keep trying.” Turning on his heel, he walked away.

Kawena was suddenly filled with a burning desire to shove propriety down Lord James's throat and let him choke on it.

“Useless, exactly,” hissed Flora. “Just go.”

Since he was already gone, and unable to hear this dismissal, Kawena turned to look at her companion.

“I certainly don't care.” The flashing glance of Flora's blue eyes argued otherwise. She turned toward the door. “I'm going back to the house. Tell…anyone who wonders where I am.”

Perhaps it was impossible to understand a people when you had not grown up among them
, Kawena thought. Flora was obviously as furious as she was, but she had no idea why. But if she could understand, Kawena suspected the knowledge would be useful. She followed Flora's path toward the exit. But Lord James caught her before she reached it.

“Enjoying yourself? ” he asked. The two words sounded mocking.

One sure way to outrage the dreaded propriety was to hit someone at a party. She couldn't do that. But the English used words as weapons. “Shouldn't I be?” she replied, matching his tone.

“Oh, indeed. Now that you're being lionized, there's no reason to be interested in old friends any longer.”

Kawena had no notion what lions had to do with it, and in fact, only a hazy notion of what they were. A few days ago, she would have asked him. They might have laughed over the explanation. “My ‘old friends' seem quite occupied with their own affairs.” That was the way they did it, she thought. They never said exactly what they meant. Then if they were taxed with some insult, they could blandly deny any such intention.

“You expect they will spend every moment looking out for you, instead?”

Kawena had never realized, before this, that you could long to kiss a man, and to shake him until his bones rattled, at the very same time. She would almost have done it—the shaking part—right here in front of everybody and damn propriety, but for the distance in Lord James's eyes. They showed no sign of the fire that had burned so deliciously when he held her. The figure before her was every inch a duke's son—haughty, closed. He used his very proper manners as a barrier and a silent, unanswerable rebuke.

The ginger-haired girl he had been talking to came toward them, on the arm of a stout older man. “Lord James,” she said when they were closer, “my father so wished to make your acquaintance. Like me, he is a great supporter of the navy.”

She spoke as if she ruled this room. She looked utterly at home. Lord James turned automatically in response to her demand. Kawena couldn't believe that this was really what he wanted—this rigid little world. But if he thought it was…

He introduced her. She smiled.

If he thought that, someone would simply have to show him how mistaken he was.

Although all of the residents of Ariel's house were gathered at the breakfast table the following day, the meal was rendered silent by the arrival of a stack of letters. Everyone but James had a missive or two to read, and he was just as glad not to have to pretend to be in a good humor.

Alan was the first to look up from his pages. “Mama says they're going to Brighton to discover what's wrong with Nathaniel.”

“Is something wrong with him?” Ariel replied, looking concerned.

“He's stopped answering letters,” Robert said.

“He is on his honeymoon,” Ariel pointed out.

“That didn't stop him from going up to London and spending a packet on a high-perch phaeton,” Robert responded.

Alan frowned. “That doesn't sound like Nathaniel. And how do you know?”

“Lord Robert hears all the gossip,” said Flora Jennings, without looking up from her own letter.

Robert glared at her before flicking a finger at the letter before him. “Friend of mine mentioned it. Thought it was odd.”

“It is, rather,” agreed Alan.

“I suppose a man can buy a carriage if he wants one,” said James. It came out surly, and earned him sidelong glances. He resolved to keep quiet, and not to crane his neck any farther to try to see Kawena's correspondence. She was engrossed in a thick packet on heavy paper. He'd hoped to get a look at the signature, but she was keeping it close.

Robert indicated another of his letters. “And he told Randolph that if he didn't like the breed of bishop he'd found for him, Randolph could hunt down another himself.”

“Breed?” said Ariel, frowning. “What does that mean?”

“No notion,” Robert replied.

“Perhaps it's some sort of joke?”

“Perhaps Violet has driven Nathaniel mad,” James suggested, earning more puzzled stares from his family. But women did drive you mad. Apparently.

“She has altered her entire wardrobe,” Robert said, picking up the first letter to consult it again. “Looks like quite a different creature, it seems. Prinny's been ogling her.”

“The Regent? Violet?” Alan looked startled.

Flora Jennings made an involuntary sound, drawing the attention of the table.

“Is something wrong?” asked Robert.

“Not bad news, I hope?” said Ariel.

The self-assured Miss Jennings looked uncomfortable. “I had meant to return home tomorrow,” she said, “but my mother writes that our cook and housemaid have contracted some sort of fever. The doctor doesn't believe it is serious, but Mama suggests that I stay away until they are recovered.”

“Of course you are welcome to stay,” said Ariel.

“I don't like to impose on your hospitality. And I should be at home to help.”

“You can't do everything,” said Robert.

Flora started to speak, then folded her lips closed over whatever retort she'd been about to loose. James didn't know what it was between these two. The woman's mere presence seemed to turn his most socially adept brother into a blunderer. It was as much a mystery as why Kawena didn't seem to be speaking directly to him any longer.

Flora rose. “I must answer her and inquire how they are doing.”

Kawena folded her thick letter. “I hope you know that I am very grateful for your hospitality, and for the help in recovering my property.” She included James in her look around the table. And that was all. Then she rose, taking her letter and following Flora from the room.

He should have gone off to the Admiralty days ago and lobbied harder for a new posting. Why hadn't he?

* * *

Kawena found Flora in the room they shared, sitting at the small writing desk with a blank sheet of paper before her. “I don't want to stay,” she said when Kawena came in. “Ariel is very kind, of course, but…” Uncharacteristically, she blurted out the rest. “I don't feel comfortable making a long visit with members of Lord Robert's family. With him always
here
. Mama knows that.”

Kawena sat in the armchair by the fireplace. “Perhaps I can help.” When Flora turned to gaze at her, she added, “I have decided to take a house of my own in Oxford. And I would be very glad, and grateful, if you would join me for a while.”

“On your own? But that isn't—”

“Proper,” said Kawena, nodding. “I hoped you might help me make it so.”

Flora looked both curious and puzzled. “Why?”

“Because you will know just what I must do.”

“No, why get a house? Everyone expects you to go home now that you've recovered your inheritance.”

Kawena looked down. Flora's blue eyes were acute. “Mr. Crane has undertaken some…business for me, which requires time to complete. I cannot go until it is done. And I find that I want to learn more about my father's country.” Both things were true, and reasonable. There was no need to mention Lord James, and certainly no way to describe the jumble of feelings the wretched man roused in her.

“You would have to find an older woman to act as a chaperone,” Flora replied. “I wouldn't do for that. If, that is, you care about such things.”

“I intend to be a
model
of English propriety.” It came out fiercely. Indeed, the intensity in her voice surprised her a bit.

Flora blinked in surprise. “You do?”

“My father would have liked that,” Kawena added. She supposed he would have. Who could tell? The question had never come up between them. But she did know that there was another, younger man who was going to be shown…a great deal.

This point seemed to weigh with Flora.

“And you know all about it. You could tell me how to…oh, make calls.” Kawena named an activity she'd heard of, but did not precisely understand.

“You might choose someone who knows much better than I.”

“No,” declared Kawena. “For although you understand English propriety, you are not…dedicated to it. So you won't despise me when I make a mistake.”

“Of course not!” Flora looked shocked at the idea.

“You see.” Kawena nodded and smiled at her. “We might even have fun. Perhaps I shall learn English dancing after all.”

Flora's expression shifted from thoughtful to almost dreamy. “You know, now and then, I find myself wishing that I was not expected to be the serious bluestocking, upholding my father's great legacy of scholarship.”

Kawena nodded encouragingly. “I think your mother would like the same.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She told me she was sorry she had given up going into society,” answered Kawena. Somehow, it seemed important that she share this bit of conversation.

“She did?” Flora looked startled.

“I expect she would be glad for you to stay, if you were to tell her that I had asked for your help in…making my way. In the most proper manner.”

Flora gave her a sharp glance. “It would be…interesting to see people other than my father's old friends.” She made a quick gesture. “I have the greatest respect for them, of course. But they all see me as…one sort of person.”

“When you can also be so much else,” Kawena suggested.

Flora looked at her. “Perhaps. I don't know.”

“Of course you can. If you wish it. Why not?” She meant to demonstrate the truth of that herself.

Flora laughed again. “You make me hopeful. And…actually”—she paused as if struck by a thought—“I might know just the woman to…lend us countenance.”

Kawena frowned. “Doesn't that mean face? How could anyone lend us her face?”

“It's another way of saying chaperone.”

“The English have so many ways of saying the same thing. So very many words.”

“It's true.” Flora examined her. “You are charming as you are, you know. There's no real need for you to learn our finicky English rules.”

But there was. Someone had to be made sorry. She shook her head.

“Well then…yes. Thank you for your kind invitation. As long as my mother agrees, I accept for…a while. How long were you thinking of staying in Oxford?”

“Oh, not too long. A few weeks?” She didn't have the patience for a much longer visit. Her business would be completed soon, and her future…would be what it would be.

“Very well.” Flora smiled. “Then I shall write my mother a rather different letter.”

“Splendid. I'm sure she will agree. I'll set about the arrangements.”

They exchanged a smile that was distinctly conspiratorial.

* * *

Kawena folded the last of her new clothing and added the garment to her new trunk. The servants arrived to take it downstairs as she was fastening the clasps. A few minutes more, and she would be off. With Ian Crane's help and Flora's shrewd advice, the details of setting up her own household had been easy. The difficulties came, rather, in the reactions of the few friends she had made in England.

Ariel had objected the most strongly, professing herself offended at this desertion. Although Kawena could tell that she wasn't actually angry, she'd also seen that her kind hostess was dismayed and would miss her daily company. Ariel's husband seemed relieved at the prospect of fewer visitors, however, which altered the balance. Lord Robert seemed suspicious about the plan, almost as if it was a trick being played on him. Though why he should think any such thing she couldn't imagine. Flora's mother had been surprisingly easy to persuade. And Lord James… Well, Lord James had been just about as annoying as a man could be. He'd criticized every decision she made, acted as if she was incapable of rational thought. And then, he'd actually gone to tea at the home of the ginger-haired girl from the party.

Kawena looked around the bedchamber one last time. She felt excited and a little melancholy and very determined. She'd recovered her inheritance; she had an exciting plan in motion under Ian Crane's direction. If she could manage this third thing… Well, they would just see. There was no need to feel melancholy. None whatsoever.

A hired carriage awaited her. Her trunk was being taken across town in a cart. Flora Jennings stood beside Ariel, her husband, and Lord James by the front door. “You really insist on going,” said Ariel.

Kawena took her hands and pressed them warmly. “We will still see each other often.”

“I'll hold you to that,” the other woman said.

“Don't hesitate to call on us if you need assistance,” said Lord Alan.

“Thank you. And for your kind hospitality.”

He nodded an acknowledgment.

Kawena doubted that she would ever understand what went on in Lord Alan's complicated mind. “Where is Lord Robert?” she asked, for Flora's sake as much as anything.

“Gone back to London,” Lord James answered in the clipped tone he had taken to using with her.

Flora faltered briefly as she climbed into the carriage. Kawena stepped forward to distract attention from her.

Lord James offered his hand to help her up. Like a proper Englishwoman, Kawena accepted the unnecessary aid. “I still can't see why you're setting up in Oxford,” he said, holding her back from the step. “It doesn't make any sense.”

He'd said this before, and apparently would say it again. Kawena did not repeat the reasons she'd given. He obviously didn't listen.

“It seems an odd thing to do with all those jewels…”

“…that you stole,” she teased.

“I didn't steal them!”

“It may have been an accident,” Kawena said, “but the fact is, you did.” She stepped toward the open carriage door. “But you helped me find them again, and I am grateful.”

“And the rest…did it mean nothing?” he said quietly.

He could say this, and still pursue his proper English bride? “What do you think it meant?” she asked.

Lord James gazed down at her, his fingers tight on her hand. His blue eyes burned into hers. Kawena's skin prickled with memories of the feel of him, the taste of him. She longed to explore those delightful sensations all over again. Except…when it was done he would be…embarrassed? Ashamed? And then he would turn away from her to his proper Englishwoman. Her anger bloomed anew. She stepped up into the carriage and sat beside Flora, pulling the door shut behind her.

Lord James reached through the open window as if he might touch her shoulder, then pulled his hand back as if burned. He moved away. The driver signaled the horses. The wheels turned, and the carriage pulled down the lane and away.

* * *

James remained outside even after the vehicle was long gone, galled beyond bearing at her departure, and his inability to do anything about it. There was no telling what sort of trouble Kawena would get into, off on her own with only Flora Jennings, of all people, to guide her. People would misunderstand things she said, did. They would judge her, snub her. Even riches, and the latitude wealth conferred, couldn't guarantee she wouldn't be hurt. He'd tried to tell her. But she didn't listen. She thought she knew all about the world. She didn't! His hands closed into fists at his sides.

If she met some other man that she…liked, would she offer herself as sweetly as she had to him? James was shaken by a storm of jealousy so fierce that he bared his teeth. This imaginary rival at once became the sort of blackguard who preyed on unwary females. James saw Kawena beguiled by a sneaking, insinuating rogue, used without tenderness, then despised and abandoned.

James paced his brother's lush summer garden, not seeing any of the nodding blooms. Even if Kawena escaped physical harm, the country was crawling with fortune hunters. Plausible, well-spoken fellows who flattered and fawned. She wouldn't know how to spot them. What girl did? Did she realize that all her property would pass to her husband the moment she married? Of course not. She came from a place where the women owned the houses. Before she could blink an eye, she'd be bilked out of the fortune she'd come so far to recover.