Blame It on Bath: The Truth About the Duke Page 29
“We’ve been married over a month now,” he reminded her. “If you’re not with child yet, you very likely will be soon, given how persistently I think wicked thoughts about you.”
“I was married ten years to Lord Howe without once conceiving,” she said numbly. “It is too much to hope for . . .”
“Perhaps I’m more virile than Howe.” He gave her a naughty smirk.
Kate blushed. “Far, far more. But . . .” Her protest faded as she tried to think when her last bleeding had been. At least a week before they married, she thought, but she couldn’t be certain. “It is surely too soon to know.”
“But not too soon to prepare.” He grinned. “I told you I wished to have children.”
Her hand crept over her belly, wonderingly, protectively. “As did I,” she confessed softly. “But it seemed I never would.”
“My father left me a small estate in Cornwall. If all goes well with Durham, and nothing comes of this damned dilemma, I want to take you there. If you don’t like it, we’ll return to London, or Bath, or find another house suitable for a family.” He folded his arms around her, resting his cheek on her temple. “But I’m not leaving you, either way.”
“Your commission,” she protested.
“I’ve given eight years to His Majesty. That ought to be enough. I never intended to stay in my whole life.”
But he hadn’t meant to sell out yet. Kate bit her lip in worry. “Your brothers,” she said. “Your inheritance.”
“Now that, I do intend to keep. I’ll help Charlie as I can, but he admitted it himself: he’s the only one without a wife now, and utterly free to pursue it. He’s also the eldest, the heir. It’s his battle even more than mine or Edward’s.”
As if summoned, the door opened, and a tall, dark-haired man who looked vaguely like Gerard stepped out, Kate’s mother at his side. “I see you found her,” he said, his dark eyes fixed on Kate.
Gerard laughed, squeezing her tight for a moment before releasing her. “I did indeed. Darling, may I present my brother Charles, the Duke of Durham. Charlie, my bride, Kate.”
“Curtsey, Katherine,” murmured her mother.
Kate flushed. She sank down, but to her astonishment the duke stepped forward and took her hand. “There’s no need for such formality. I am pleased beyond all measure to make your acquaintance at last, my dear.” He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Welcome to our family.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
His dark eyes gleamed, and his smile was sheer sin. “Call me Durham. We are brother and sister now.”
“His Grace indicated you would be staying only a short while,” said Mama in her mildly reproachful way. “Do assure him you mean to stay a month, Katherine.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned her best smile back on the duke. “Cobham is very pleasant this time of year. We would be honored to have you rusticate with us, sir.”
“No doubt.” The duke’s sharp eyes flickered down to Gerard’s dirty knees, and Kate blushed again as his wicked smile widened. “Alas, I have pressing concerns elsewhere. I must leave on the morrow.”
Disappointment mingled with frustration on Mama’s face for a moment. “As you say, Your Grace.” She glanced at Kate. “Katherine dear, you must help me plan dinner for our guests. And good heavens, what have you done to your hair?”
Charlie tipped his head, and Gerard fell in step beside him, strolling away from the women. He looked over his shoulder twice at Kate before his brother spoke.
“Well done, little brother.”
He grinned. “I know.”
Charlie stopped and turned to study Kate as well. She was nodding patiently at whatever her mother was saying in obvious supplication; but she saw them watching her and gave a small smile. Her face shone, and Gerard thought she’d never looked more beautiful. His heart gave an answering thump as he smiled back at her. Yes, he liked being in love. It was even better than being married.
“I do believe you were right,” murmured Charlie thoughtfully. “Not a beauty . . . until she looks at you.”
“She’s uncommonly lovely,” he replied, although secretly he thought it might be true. Something about her face did change when she looked his way, something bright and breathless that made her glow. He was fortunate that was his view, and not the besotted expression his own face wore when he looked her way.
“What did you want to discuss?”
Charlie blew out his breath and gazed away, across the neatly scythed lawn. “I had hoped you would come with me in pursuit of this scoundrel, but I sense that isn’t likely.”
Gerard quit watching his wife from the corner of his eye. “No. I have to settle Kate in a proper home, fit for a family.”
“Good God, already?” exclaimed Charlie.
“Perhaps. I’ve taken quite a liking to marriage.”
He sighed. “That’s clear, from the state of your trousers; Bragg will never get the grass stains out.” He gave Gerard a sly look. “You always were fond of fresh air and exercise.”
Gerard laughed. “I’ve given you all I know, Charlie. Hiram Scott passes through Bath every so often, it seems, from the post dates of the letters. If he lives near Bath, he must be a recluse—I’ve looked everywhere in the town and never heard the name. And it’s conceivable the postal clerk made a mistake. Whatever you find in Ogilvie’s journals may prove helpful, or useless, but at least someone else—namely cousin Augustus—hasn’t got them. If we’re correct that Scott is tormenting us, you should be amply prepared to turn the tables on him.”
They had discussed all this on the journey to Cobham. Charlie was quiet for a moment. “Lord Worley’s name was mentioned.”
“Yes. He spoke to me one night. Seems to take a bit of delight in our humiliation, but he’s hardly alone in that. It caught my attention, but I saw no other connection, even if he spent every waking moment with Mrs. Hollenbrook.”
Gerard expected some insight, but Charlie just nodded. “Well. Shall you remain here, or may I take you as far as Bath tomorrow?”
“Once you leave, the sun may stop shining here,” said Gerard wryly. “Kate and I would be very glad of your carriage back to Bath.”
“Ah, yes. I believe nothing so splendid as my arrival has ever before occurred in this part of the country.” Charlie’s mouth twitched in amusement. “Be sure to settle yourself in a house without a dower property.”
“Rest assured, it won’t be large enough for all our family.”
Kate was coming toward them. Gerard drew her to him, slipping his arm around her waist. God, it felt good to have her at his side again. “My mother humbly invites you to dine with us this evening, Your Grace,” she said to Charlie. “She hopes you will stay the night as well, as the inns nearby aren’t half-decent enough for such an illustrious person.”
“By God, you have to leave tomorrow,” declared Gerard. “Your head will be swelled to enormous proportions if you stay.”
Charlie laughed. “I fear you are right. I most gratefully accept your mother’s invitation, my dear. But you must remember to call me Durham, or even Charlie.”
She blushed but smiled. “It is an honor merely not to curtsey when we meet, sir.”
Still amused, Charlie turned back to Gerard. “So it is. If I haven’t congratulated you yet, Gerard, allow me to say you are a fortunate man.”
He looked at Kate, whose eyes shone back at him, brimming with love. “Exceptionally so,” he said. “More than I ever expected.”
You’ve spent One Night in London
and found a way to Blame It on Bath.
Now discover The Way to a Duke’s Heart. . .
Charles de Lacey, Lord Gresham, has had his life turned upside down. Instead of inheriting his father’s ducal crown, he’s got a messy scandal that could strip him of his title and his fortune. After years of pleasure-seeking, he suddenly finds himself required to track down a blackmailer, discover the trut
h about his father’s first marriage, and defend his right to a dukedom from a grasping relation. But he has no idea where to start, until a tart-tongued beauty inadvertently leads him to the possible blackmailer.
Tessa Neville is a businesswoman, plain and simple. She gets off on the wrong foot with Lord Gresham, and then the blasted man follows her across England. He makes friends with her companion. He makes her laugh even when she wants to dislike him. And, worst of all, he somehow sees the darkest secrets of her heart in a way she never would have expected from a man of his wicked reputation. Tessa knows he’s the wrong sort of man for her. If only the thought of losing him didn’t make her heart break.
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Way to a Duke’s Heart,
the third and final installment of Caroline Linden’s
breathtaking historical romance series.
Coming soon from Avon Books!
Tessa Neville had never met the Earl of Gresham, but she hated him just the same.
She was not normally given to hating people. It was a waste of time and a rather indulgent emotion, in her opinion, and Lord knew there was enough indulgence and emotion in her family already. Had she encountered Lord Gresham under different circumstances, chances were she would have thought little of the gentleman, if she even noticed him at all. Earls, especially of his status and notoriety, were far out of her normal circles, and she was quite happy that way.
Awareness of him, however, was forced upon her, and not in the best way. She supposed there might be good reasons one could be forcibly aware of someone, but generally it was a bad reason. And at this particular moment, in this particular way, Lord Gresham managed to leave her annoyed, impatient, and disgusted with him and herself.
His first offense was not really a personal failing. By simple bad luck, she arrived at the York Hotel, Bath’s finest, only a few minutes before the Gresham entourage. To be fair, her mood was already on edge by then. Eugenie Bates, her elderly companion, had been in such a state of nerves over the journey that she hadn’t been ready to leave on time, and so had made them later than Tessa wished. It was a very warm day, making travel even more uncomfortable than usual as the heat and brilliant sun seemed to wilt everything but Eugenie’s ability to worry aloud. By the time they reached Bath in the late afternoon, Tessa was already tired, hungry, and heartily wishing she had defied her sister and left Eugenie at home. She’d told herself all would be better once they reached the hotel and she could change out of her wool traveling dress, have a refreshing cool drink, and stretch her legs. She’d all but leaped down from the hired travel chaise, so anxious was she to settle Eugenie into the hotel, not knowing there was another trial to come.
But no sooner had she walked through the doors and given her name than there came the rattle of harness and a clatter of wheels in the street, and almost immediately a hue and a cry rose. The hotelier, who had come forward to welcome her, excused himself in a rush and hurried out to see the commotion. The arrival’s title reached her ears in a whisper both delighted and alarmed: the Earl of Gresham!
When Eugenie, straggling in Tessa’s wake, heard the name, she gasped. “Oh, my dear! I did not know this hotel catered to such an elegant crowd!”
“It is a hotel, Eugenie,” replied Tessa, watching the staff rush past her without a second glance. “It caters to whomever can pay the bill.”
“Lady Woodall will be so disappointed she missed such a sight!” Eugenie’s fatigue had vanished. She watched in open fascination as servants bustled back and forth, bringing in luggage and carrying it up the stairs.
“I am sure my sister will be nearly as delighted when she reads your account of his arrival.” Tessa thought her sister would have stationed herself in the hall to look fetching, hoping to secure an introduction. Louise was anticipating her life in London with almost feverish eagerness, and being acquainted with an earl would have made her faint with joy. At least Eugenie was too shy to thrust herself forward that way.
“Oh, my dear, we must wait and catch a glimpse of the gentleman!” Mrs. Bates caught sight of Tessa’s wry smile and blushed. She was such a pink and white creature, Eugenie Bates. Tessa had been making her blush since she was a schoolgirl of ten, when Eugenie, a poor but beloved distant cousin of her mother’s, had come to live with them. All it took now was a certain look, because Eugenie had a vast experience of what Tessa’s looks might mean. “So I might relate it to Lady Woodall,” she protested. “Not to be rude, of course.”
“Naturally,” agreed Tessa. “It wouldn’t be rude at all, as we were standing here first, and because we simply have no choice but to wait until the hotel staff remember we exist.”
“Oh, I’m sure they haven’t forgotten us! Mr. Lucas will surely return at any moment. Are you tired, dear Tessa? Should we sit down in the lounge over there?” Mrs. Bates’s desire to maintain her post was clear, but she dutifully gestured to the small sofa on the other side of the room.
Tessa, who was tired and did want to sit down, patted her hand. “I’m perfectly fine. And here comes the earl now.” She was glad of that last part. Eugenie could have her glimpse of the noble personage, the hotel staff could grovel at his feet, and the sooner that was done, the sooner Tessa would have her own peaceful room. She obligingly stepped back to allow her companion an unimpeded view of his progress.
“Good heavens, an earl!” Eugenie hurried forward, her face alight. “I encountered a marquess once, but it was quite by accident—I expect he thought I was a woman of low morals, for he was very forward! For my own part, I was so amazed he spoke to me, I’m sure I gave no very good account of myself, either. And of course I was acquainted with your dear papa, and now your brother, but otherwise I’ve never seen anyone of such rank!”
“Not true. You once saw one of the royal princesses in Wells taking the waters.”
Eugenie waved it off. “That was from afar, dear! This is very near, only a few feet apart. I shall be able to see every detail of his person, and whether he has a kind face, and what sort of gloves he wears. Lady Woodall will be so anxious to know what is fashionable for gentlemen in London, so she might order accordingly for young Lord Woodall . . .”
Tessa stopped listening whenever issues of fashion arose, especially anything to do with Louise’s idea of fashion. It wasn’t that she didn’t care about her own appearance, or didn’t wish to look smart. She just had no patience for endless dithering over the merits of ivory gloves versus fawn gloves, or whether a blue gown should have white ribbons or blond lace or perhaps seed pearls for embellishment. She had been born with an unfortunately firm and decisive personality, much to the dismay of her frivolous sister. In the time it took Tessa to change her dress and arrange her hair, Louise could scarcely choose a handkerchief. Eugenie fell much too easily under Louise’s spell, although she did improve when away from her. And since Tessa had been persuaded that she had little choice but to bring Eugenie with her on this trip, she could only pray the lingering influence of her sister faded quickly.
Her mind drifted as Eugenie breathlessly narrated the earl’s infuriatingly slow progress into the hotel. She had a great deal to accomplish this week, and she did hope for a few days of seeing the sights before leaving. Tessa might be immune to the lure of a milliner’s shop, but she loved to spend a pleasant hour in a bookshop, and the coffee houses of Bath occupied a special place in her heart. Eugenie was looking forward to visiting her sister and seeing the famous Pump Room, with strict instructions from Louise to take note of what all the ladies wore. If Tessa could have left her companion behind in Bath, she would have done so, to the greater happiness of both of them. Eugenie would have enjoyed herself a great deal more than out in a small town in the coalfields, but Louise had insisted Tessa couldn’t possibly go alone. And once Louise set her mind on something, it was best just to admit defeat. Pyrrhus himself would have conceded the battle was not worth fighting.
“My dear!” Eugenie’s voice went up a register in excitement. “
My dear, he is coming!”
So much the better, thought Tessa, since no one would serve them until he came through; but she obligingly stepped forward to see what sort of man could upend the entire York Hotel.
Mr. Lucas, the hotel proprietor, ushered the earl through the door himself. Lord Gresham was moderately tall and wore clothing of unmistakable elegance and quality. He turned on the doorstep to speak to someone still outside, and she studied his profile. A high forehead, square jaw, straight nose. His dark hair curled against his collar, just a bit longer than fashionable. From the tips of his polished boots to the crown of his fashionable beaver hat, he exuded wealth and privilege.
“Such a handsome gentleman!” breathed Eugenie beside her, clinging to Tessa’s arm as if she would faint. “I’ve never seen the like!”
“I would like him a great deal better if he hadn’t been responsible for everyone deserting us to carry up his luggage,” she replied.
“And his carriage is so elegant! Everything a gentleman should be, I’m sure,” went on Eugenie, either ignoring or not hearing Tessa’s comment. “How fortunate we should be in Bath at the same time, at the very same hotel! I do believe Lady Woodall mentioned his name recently—oh, she shall be in transports that we have seen him! What was it she was saying about him?” Her brow knitted anxiously. “I’m sure it was some bon mot that would amuse you, my dear . . .”
Tessa suppressed a sigh. She didn’t listen to Louise’s gossip, and Eugenie didn’t remember it. What a pair they made. She shifted her weight; her shoes were beginning to pinch her feet.
Lord Gresham smiled, then laughed at whatever was said outside, and finally walked into the hotel. He moved like a man who knew others would pause to watch him walk by. It was the bold, unhurried stride of someone with the world in his pocket and had a whiff of predatory grace, as if he understood just how arresting his appearance was and meant to use it to his best advantage. Because Eugenie was right: he was a blindingly attractive man.