The Black Duke's Prize (11 page)

At that moment he turned and smiled. He kneed his stallion forward,
stopping beside her to lean over and pat her mare's neck. "Hello,
Winter," he said amiably, and the gray's ears flicked at him. When Kate
looked back at his face, his eyes were on her. "Katherine," he said,
inclining his head.

So he would greet her horse first, would he? "Nicholas," she
returned coolly. "You seem to be familiar with my mount, sir."

"I am," he replied mildly. "I sold her to Neville several
weeks ago."

That would have been about the time she arrived in London. Her godfather
had never said he had purchased Winter specifically for her, only that he
thought he had a mare in his stable that would suit her. And he had never
mentioned that the gray had come from the Duke of Sommesby.

They set off along the main drag, their progress slower than usual
because of the unprecedented appearance of the Black Duke at such a heavily
trafficked hour. It seemed that every carriage or chaise, especially those
containing women, had to stop and hail him with a word or a greeting.
Katherine would have thought he was deliberately baiting her again, except that
she caught the bored expression on his face, quickly masked, during a lull.
She wondered what it must be like for him to be so badly toadeaten wherever he
went in public, and never to know if people's comments and compliments were
sincere or merely meant to gain some political or social advantage.

"Do you know everyone in London, Nick?" Thomas finally
protested.

"Apparently so," the Black Duke drawled.

"I don't believe it," Louisa muttered from beside Reg.
"What?" the captain asked, turning to follow her gaze. Katherine
looked as well, and her palms grew sweaty inside her gloves. Approaching from
across the park on a bay gelding came Francis DuPres. Wishing now that she
hadn't spoken so boldly about her ability to take care of herself, she glanced.
over at Nicholas. To her surprise, he returned her look with a reassuring one
of his own. His black sidled closer, seemingly of its own accord.

"Steady," he murmured.

They waited as DuPres closed the distance to them. The close-set brown
eyes shifted between her and the duke, as though DuPres couldn't decide which
of them warranted his attention. He frightened and revolted Katherine, but she
was reassured by the thought that he wouldn't dare try anything in the presence
of three high-ranking members of the
ton.

Finally he settled his attention on Nicholas. "Sommesby, we have
something to discuss."

"I have nothing to discuss with you," Nicholas returned icily.

"AH, but this is not personal," DuPres went on, though the
look in his eyes became ugly. ''This is business."

''Then make an appointment with my man," the duke responded.

"I've tried. He's never in. And we both know why. It seems that
we're both interested in the same property up―"

"I said, make an appointment," Nicholas hissed. As he finished
speaking, his black reared. DuPres was forced to haul his bay sideways. The
animal whinnied and began crow-hopping. With his high shirt points and
harlequin colors, the man looked like a mad elf. "Let's go," the duke
said with a growl, and yanked the stallion around.

''That was a bit severe, wasn't it?" Reg asked carefully when they
had gone some distance. Behind them DuPres had gotten his horse under control
and sat staring after them. After a while he rode off in the opposite
direction.

"I didn't come here to discuss business," the duke responded.
"And not with the likes of him."

Although Katherine held no liking for Francis DuPres, the duke's
attitude of superiority surprised and irked her. "I hadn't realized you
were such a high stickler," she said smoothly.

His sharp look set her back. "You would defend him?" he said
sharply.

"I am merely pointing out that you seem to be attacking him because
his blood isn't as blue as yours."

"You―I―" The Black Duke shut his mouth and glared
at her. "I don't give a flying leap about his social status," he said
very evenly. "I was attacking him because of his damned ill behavior as a
gentleman."

She flushed, her temper flaring. "I believe," she retorted,
"that he has behaved no differently than a certain other gentleman with
whom we are acquainted."

His eyes narrowed. "You go too far," he said.

"No, sir, you did," Kate replied. Althaea gasped, and Kate
gathered her reins to flee as the Black Duke started toward her.

He opened his mouth in a snarl, but before he could say anything Thomas
rode between them. ''What say we go and get some ices from the
confectioner's?" he said loudly. "I think we could all stand to cool
down a bit."

This last he directed at Nicholas, and for a moment Katherine thought
the Black Duke was going to strike the viscount. Then he slowly nodded, and
behind her Reg breathed a sigh of relief.

Conversation was muted as they made their way over to the
confectioner's. When Thomas and Nicholas dismounted to get the ices, Louisa
leaned over to Kate. "I thought he was going to eat you alive," she
whispered. "Now I know why he is called the Black Duke."

Wishing that for once she had possessed enough sense to keep her mouth
shut, Katherine shook her head. "I provoked him," she whispered
back.

"Yes, you did," a soft voice came from beside her, and she
looked down to see Nicholas standing at her knee. "Again." He held a
lemon-flavored ice up in one hand and strawberry in the other. When she
indicated the lemon he handed it to her. "And again you put me in my
place," he murmured.

"Someone has to," she noted, smiling a little nervously. He
put a hand on her reins and leaned closer. ''Then I'm pleased you aren't
carrying a vase with you." At that he grinned, the smile lighting his eyes
and making her wish to lean down and kiss him, right in the middle of Hyde
Park. Drat the man, she didn't know how to behave when he was about.

"Do you go to the Linton soiree tomorrow night?" he
 
asked.

She pulled her thoughts together enough to nod. "I do."

"Will you save a waltz for me?"

So much for his threat never to dance with her again, but she wasn't
about to remind him of it. "Yes, I will."

"Are you going to stand there all day, Nick?" Thomas's voice
came from behind them, and the duke started.

"I suppose not," he drawled, and with another smile and a
faint shrug to her, he returned to his stallion and swung back up into the
saddle.

They ate their flavored ices in the shade of a stand of oaks. After
another few minutes of listening to Thomas trying to make some kind of bet
regarding a rematch between his bay and Nicholas's black, Ulysses, they were
all laughing again. Then, too quickly, Sommesby had to take his leave, claiming
a business appointment he had been unable to break.

"Miss Dremond, Miss Hillary," he intoned, much to Althaea's
trepidation. "Katherine." He touched his heels to the black's ribs
and was gone.

They lingered for another half hour before Reg stretched and climbed to
his feet. "We should be getting back, as well," he commented, and
Althaea rose from her seat in the soft grass.

As Katherine rode beside Thomas and Louisa on the way back to the
Hamptons', the viscount kept glancing over at her. He said nothing, though, until
he dismounted to walk her to the door. "Kate . . . was Nick forward with
you?"

Katherine blushed. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Well, it's just that Nick usually gets his way, and he's used to
... dealing with ladies of a different sort than you," he said slowly,
carefully choosing his words. "If you don't wish his attentions, I will be
happy to speak to him for you."

She touched his sleeve and smiled. "Thank you, Thomas, but I can
deal with Nicholas Varon myself."

"Yes, you likely can," he muttered.

10

A
fter
changing her mind so many times she had begun to think herself addlebrained,
Katherine decided to wear her blue gown to the Lintons'. She fidgeted at the
dressing table until Emmie set down the hairbrush and suggested she take a
stroll and return when she was ready to sit still.

"I'm sorry, Emmie," she apologized, turning to face forward
again.

"You're in high spirits tonight, Miss Kate, ain't you?" Emmie
queried, lifting the brush again.

Katherine picked up the silver hair ribbon and began to wind it around
her fingers, then quickly put it down again when Emmie sighed. "I suppose
I am a bit . . . jittery this evening," she admitted.

"One of those fine gentlemen finally caught your eye, did he?"
The maid dimpled, then grimaced as one of the silver clips fell out of Kate's
hair to the floor.

"Heavens, no," Katherine protested weakly. As she realized
she was picking at the ribbon again, she folded her hands in her lap. Despite
Kate's lack of cooperation, Emmie completed her ministrations and over Kate's
protests declared that her mistress was going to be the envy of all London
that evening.

At the Linton mansion .the throng of male admirers that beset Kate upon
her arrival seemed to agree with Emmie. The Hamptons relinquished her to the crowd,
and almost before she could take a breath her card was filled. Except for the
last dance. She kept that waltz free, as she had given her word. She looked
about for Sommesby, but he was not in sight. Nicholas was not the type to
clamor for attention with the other young bucks, though, so she was not unduly
concerned.

As the evening progressed and he still had made no appearance, however,
her temper began to flare. He wouldn't be so petty as to stand her up in
revenge for her walking out early the night they had met, or so she told
herself. Once the thought entered her mind, however, it refused to depart. She
had behaved like a hoyden out in the park, and he could be so devious that she
would put nothing past him, the scoundrel. "Oh, fribble," she muttered.

"Beg pardon?"

She looked up to see the Viscount of Sheresford standing before her,
and smiled. "Oh, hello, Thomas."

He stood for another moment, then sat down beside her. "Do you wish
to sit out this dance?" he asked, and she remembered that he had claimed
her for the quadrille.

She shook her head. "No. I'm sorry. I've just been distracted
tonight."

"The belle of the ball is allowed to be as distracted as she
pleases, for she is very distracting to most everyone else." Thomas
grinned and pulled her to her feet.

"I am not the belle of the ball," she stated as they took
their places.

"Look around, if you don't believe me," he suggested as the
music began.

She did so, and found that she was receiving a great deal more attention
than she had realized. "I did not try to be so," she protested as
they stepped forward. "It's not even my debut. I've had my Season."

Thomas laughed. "You are too generous," he said. "Enjoy
it. Before long you will be off the market, and some other young miss will take
your place."

As the dance separated them, she considered his words. His attentions
had become more serious of late, and it occurred to her that he might offer
for her. She was quite fond of him, but she had heard complaints about her
Irish temper often enough that she well knew it was entirely likely he would
become exasperated with her stubborn ways and not offer for her at all.

After the quadrille ended he led her over to Lord Neville, her partner
for the next-to-last dance of the evening, a country dance. "I shall try
not to step on your toes, dear," her godfather said with a grin as she
returned to the
          
floor.

"You are a fine dancer," she returned stoutly, again glancing
about the room for Nicholas. Abruptly she spied him lounging in the doorway,
watching her. He nodded at her, and she sighed, relieved that he had come,
after all. As she and Lord Neville left the floor he started toward them. He
was dressed in a blue even darker than her own, his cravat as white as snow. He
looked magnificent, and seemed to draw the eye of everyone in the room as he approached.