Rules to Catch a Devilish Duke (3 page)

Hm.
Perhaps it had crossed his mind, but he wasn’t about to admit to it. “You are the friend of my friend’s wife, Sophia. I wasn’t aware that you would be naked.”

“Fair enough. And considering that you pulled me out of a river, even if I were prone to be otherwise offended, I certainly wouldn’t be now.”

Was that an invitation? He hoped so, but he had a few questions he wanted answered, first. Of course if he’d been a true gentleman, now that he did know she was naked, he likely should have left the room. Instead he hooked his ankle around a chair, dragged it closer, and sat. “You’re well educated.”

She nodded, looking up at him from beneath long lashes. “I am quite well educated.”

“And yet I recall one evening at The Tantalus Club when you complained to Lord Effington that if that Cleopatra chit ever showed her face in London, she would regret attempting to steal the Nile from us.”

Her mouth lifted at the corners. “And Lord Effington laughed so hard at me that he didn’t even notice he’d lost seven hundred pounds at faro to the club.” She lowered her gaze briefly before her green eyes met his squarely again. “Should I dissemble, then? It gives me an aching head after a while, but I can pretend stupidity if it benefits me.”

In the company of Keating Blackwood and Camille, Adam had once escorted Sophia to the Tower of London and had even untangled a lion cub’s claws from her hem. He couldn’t recall that she’d said anything ridiculous, or if he’d been lured into saying anything haughty or condescending in return. The fact that he was attempting to recall several brief conversations with her, however, spoke volumes. She’d just elevated herself from mildly interesting to intriguing. “I prefer that my guests be themselves,” he said aloud. “So I suppose I shall converse with whichever face you choose to show me.”

“I just showed you my actual face, so that will have to do, I’m afraid.”

All of the ladies of The Tantalus Club were beauties; the owner, Lady Haybury, only hired the most tempting of chits. The fact that they were untouchable except by their own choice made them even more attractive to most of the lordlings of Mayfair. Some of the young ladies came from good homes and bad circumstances, and all of them were well spoken and charming.

He’d noted months ago that Sophia White was an attractive young lady, just as he’d noted that she had a very unattractive parentage. In the same way, he noted now that she didn’t blush and hide when a man disrupted her bath, and that she’d looked him over from head to toe at the same time she’d stated that she wasn’t offended by his presence, but was simply too chilled to leave the bathtub.

A living, breathing conundrum, when he’d expected—at least for the time being—a tiresome, fluttery, complaining headache. As for tomorrow, well, that remained to be seen.

“So I am your only guest.”

“You are. For the moment, anyway.” He drew a breath, wondering if she realized just how … vital that made her to him at the moment. “But you are not the only female in residence. My sister arrived a week ago. As I am unmarried, Lady Wallace hosts my Christmas gatherings. I don’t invite guests in order to deliberately ruin their reputations.” Not this year, at least. He had particular need for a female of sterling reputation.

Color had begun to touch her cheeks again, though the amusement in her eyes faded a little. “I suppose the proper thing for me to do would be to volunteer to leave Greaves Park for Hanlith, since your large house party is now a small family gathering.”

“That’s not necessary.” In fact, under no circumstances did he wish her to leave him alone with his sister. A week had more than sufficed to provide him with all the family interaction he could tolerate. Before he could tell her that, however, that compelling smile of hers made him pause.

“Good,” she returned, “because I think the holiday will be much more enjoyable here.”

“I would have to agree with that.” Belatedly Adam shook himself. Whatever seductions he might have had in mind, they could wait until the chit with the stunning red hair and unexpected wit had a chance to dry off and warm up. After that … well, Christmas was for opening gifts, after all. He stood. “I will see to it that you have a suitable wardrobe.”

“I will see to my own wardrobe. If you begin dressing me, I’ll feel … obligated to you. Even more than I already do.”

People rarely turned down his offers of generosity. He didn’t make them very often. And while it annoyed him, he had to respect her wishes. And her. “As you will, then. I’ll send Mrs. Brooks back in to tend to you. Work your wiles on her if you wish a gown. I’ll have Mrs. Beasel the cook save a potato sack, just in case.”

Sophia snorted, then belatedly attempted to cover the sound with a cough. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

In the doorway, he stopped again. “You are quite welcome, Sophia.”

TWO

“I must have been mad to think that just once you wouldn’t attempt to mar our holiday by bringing one of your bloody mistresses here.”

Adam looked up from his correspondence. “Good morning, Eustace. I could tell from your tone that you were saying something accusatory, but I didn’t quite catch it.”

Eustace Landen, the Marchioness of Wallace, remained in the doorway of his office. Her dark hair was, as always, immaculately fashioned atop her head, and a deep gray morning gown set her light gray eyes off to perfection. Adam had always found it ironic that his older sister looked more like a warmhearted confidante than an ice-cold shrew, but he’d certainly known her long enough to see past her pretty skin.

“I had thought that this year, at least, you would manage something respectable—or at least your interpretation of the word. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed. You know how important this holiday is, Adam, and yet you invite a Tantalus girl? I thought you’d make some effort, even knowing the … regard you have for your only family. There is at least one person you will need to impress this Christmas.”

“Beg pardon, but are you crediting me with destroying the Aire bridge? Or conjuring the storm? Or perhaps causing the mail coach to run three hours behind schedule? I assure you, while I have my methods, I’m not a god.”

“You invited an unacceptable female.”

“Yes, I did. I also invited Keating Blackwood, who once killed a man. And Keating’s new wife, Camille, who abandoned the same man at the altar twice. And Lord Lassiter, who’s been through four wives. And Haymes, who won his butler in a wager. And—”

“Don’t remind me,” she retorted. “I’ve seen your guest list. But you’ve also invited a dozen highborn ladies here, for you to … evaluate, I presume. Or is it merely for a laugh with your disreputable friends? Is it still all a jest to you? Because I can promise that I’ve had several solicitors review the contents of Father’s will. It can’t be contested, or amended. Even by you. And you are very nearly out of time.”

“Enough.” Setting aside the letter he’d been writing to Keating, Adam gave his full attention to his sister. Most people didn’t care to receive his full attention, and even Eustace wandered over to fiddle with the potted ivy on an end table. “I’ve had solicitors engaged, as well, and I know why you were so eager to volunteer your services this year. You’re a vulture, Eustace.”

“I’m concerned over this family’s reputation. And I will be prepared to step in when you fail.”

“The Christmas party will go on,” he stated, “and my parade of would-be brides will arrive, even if I have to swim across the river and carry them back. I’m sending instructions for everyone to be put up at Etherton, at my expense, until I have the bridge repaired, also at my expense. So I’m afraid that you and your grasping son will not be assuming any more of my dukedom than I choose to give you. Which is not a penny more than you already receive.”

His sister shook her head, the curls at either temple swaying. “I didn’t make any of these stipulations,” she retorted, “and I’m not the one who’s put off marriage long enough to endanger my own inheritance. For your own sake, send your whore to Hanlith at least, so no one has to look at her.”

“She is a guest.” And the one bit of fun he’d been looking forward to having. “You are an unpleasant necessity.”

“I know that … thing is Hennessy’s bastard, Adam. Gotten on a maid, of all things.”

“I’m aware of her parentage. She is a friend.”

“‘A friend,’” Eustace repeated, her lips thinning. “Like that actress Sarah Nichols was a friend, and Rebecca Reynolds was a fr—”

“I had no idea you kept such a close eye on me,” Adam interrupted, his voice low and even. If she wanted an argument, he was certainly in the mood to oblige her with one. A damned holiday party with no guests, a wedding to arrange with no potential brides to speak of. If he had to put his head in the noose, he meant to make it as painless as possible. Therefore, Sophia White wasn’t going anywhere if he had anything to say about it. Which he did.

“Someone has to keep an eye on you. Mother always said you were just like Father, but since you can’t even live up to his diminished expectations of you, I’m beginning to think you’re even worse. And if you don’t marry by the first of February, I will see to it that Father’s will is enforced, and you will lose every unentailed bit of property and wealth to my son.”

“Your twelve-year-old son.”

“Yes. Which means that you will soon be doing as
I
say. And that will be the end of your overbearing arrogance.”

They’d had this conversation before, and especially over the past two years, when Eustace had begun to hope that he would fail. He still didn’t like it any more than he had the first time he’d heard it. “It’s a pity you’re my sister,” he returned, “or I could marry a self-righteous shrew and be just like Father.”

“If you
were
married, I could spend the holiday with my family and friends and have nothing further to do with you.”

“That’s the best reason for me to marry that I’ve yet heard.” Standing, he strode up to his sister. “Sophia White is to be treated as any guest, Eustace. Better, because she expects less. Is that clear?”

His sister took a step backward, but only clucked her tongue at him.

Taking Eustace’s chin in his hand, he forced her to meet his gaze. “Tell me if you think I’m jesting.”

She did meet his gaze then, her light gray eyes widening almost imperceptibly. “Very well, Adam. Have your amusement. At least no one is here to witness it, thank God. Just remember that no one is here to save you, either.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything.”

Once Eustace glided back down the hallway to her own rooms, Adam sat again to gaze out his window. Soft white covered the garden below and weighted the branches of the nearest trees. The lake and forest beyond were obscured by the low clouds and the heavy falling snow. In the near silence it almost felt as though Greaves Park had been removed from the world to sit on the edge of an endless, empty sky.

Generally Adam didn’t like the illusion. He spent his life acquiring information and using it to influence people and events, and that couldn’t be done in isolation. During the Season he rarely spent as much as a single night in only his own company. Parliament, dinners, soirees, the theater, clubs—those were the times he enjoyed. Everyone knew something, whether they realized it or not. And he’d made an art of uncovering even the most well-hidden bits and bobs.

Evidently he enjoyed the pursuit of information so greatly that he’d neglected tending his own garden, as it were—that idiotic clause in his father’s will which stipulated that the disappointing heir he’d produced with his disappointing wife prove himself at least half a man by marrying before his thirtieth year, and by becoming a father by his thirty-first. Back when he’d inherited the title—God, had it truly been eleven years now?—the paragraph had seemed ridiculous. By now he’d expected to have overcome his … reluctance to be a husband, for the memories of his own parents and their so-called marriage to have faded away. And now with an almost absurd abruptness, he’d run out of time.

It wasn’t that he disliked women. Far from it. In fact, the list of his former mistresses was nearly as long as that of his business and social appointments. Mistresses served two purposes as far as he was concerned. They frequently knew a selection of unexpected gossip, but it was equally important that they simply be … available, and whenever he decided to call. But a wife, someone who never actually went away when he’d tired of her, that was a completely different tangle.

He’d parted company from his last mistress, Lady Helena Brennan, some six weeks ago. While he hadn’t engaged her for her wit, he had expected honesty about any other entanglements. Unfortunately, dishonesty had proven to be the quality she had in most abundance. And so he’d arrived in Yorkshire alone. He wondered what Helena would have thought if she’d known how close she’d come to becoming the Duchess of Greaves, simply to save him the effort of looking elsewhere. Now he could only be thankful that she’d disappointed him
before
he could ask the bloody question rather than after he’d donned his shackles.

The timing of this damned storm and the subsequent collapse of the old stone bridge yesterday couldn’t have been worse. A week later and all his guests would have been safely to Greaves Park, warm and well provisioned until spring thaw, if necessary. Now, however, not even Eustace’s husband, Phillip Landen, had arrived, though Adam hardly counted anyone who would willingly marry into the Baswich family as someone with whom he would care to converse, much less call a friend or an ally. As this holiday had become about something other than a gathering of friends, anyway, what he required was marriageable females. What he had at the moment was one potential mistress—which, although more pleasant to contemplate, simply wouldn’t suffice.

He’d instructed that ropes and pulleys be strung across the Aire at the bridge, so at least mail could travel back and forth. And now he needed to find an engineer, an architect, and a quantity of stonemasons. In the meantime, he went to work finishing with sending word to any guests who might be traveling to Yorkshire that they were not to turn around and go home. For those who might have already reached Etherton on the far side of the river, he would pay for their accommodations if they would wait for the bridge to be repaired, or they could risk an additional four days of travel through the rugged, snow-covered Yorkshire countryside and go around.