Читать книгу To Defy a Duke - A. Mervyn Smith - Страница 6

Chapter Two

The Duke of Lovelton stormed into his study, slamming the door behind him. He glanced at the servant dusting the mantle of the fireplace who seemed totally unperturbed by his outburst.

He walked to the tray with a bottle of his preferred scotch and several glasses arranged around it. He poured a healthy amount into one of the crystal tumblers, thought a moment, then dumped some more in.

Glass in hand, he walked behind his desk and drained its contents in one swallow. Dropping to his chair, he slammed the glass on his desk. In a deceptively quiet voice, he growled. “Why? Just tell me why. I may just kill you quickly rather than slowly strangling you to death with my bare hands.”

The servant chuckled and walked over to his scotch. Pouring herself a generous portion, she walked over and daintily sat in the chair opposite him. She took a delicate sip and smiled. “Mm, nice and smooth. Superior quality. You have excellent taste, Colton.”

“Start talking, Clara, or I will not be responsible for my actions!” This time the duke roared.

“Calm down, darling. You do not want to alarm the staff. It just would not do!” Clara laughed and took another sip.

Colton ground his teeth. This woman was going to be the death of him yet. He stood up and went for another drink. He was going to need it to get through this meeting. Lifting the bottle to pour, he reconsidered. He put the glass down and took the bottle back to his desk with him. Turning up the bottle, he took a few chugs. When Clara opened her mouth to speak, he held up his hand. “Let this kick in first.”

She closed her mouth, and they sat drinking companionably for a few minutes. When the alcohol started registering in his system, Colton spoke slowly. “Start talking, Clara. Tell me what possessed you to risk your death by my hand to spread rumors. And you had better make it good and very, very believable.”

Clara placed her glass on his desk and smiled. “You needed a wife.”

Through clenched teeth, he said, “You started a scandal and involved an innocent all because you think I need a wife!”

“No, that was a statement. Not an explanation. The explanation is going to require another one of these.” She lifted her glass and tilted it from side to side.

Leaning forward, Colton tipped the bottle until the glass was completely full. Placing the bottle back on his desk, he waited until she took a sip. Making sure he had her undivided attention, he demanded. “Last chance, Clara, or so help me…”

“Calm down, Colton. I did not do it for amusement. We were seen.”

“Seen? By whom? How the hell did we go from you and I being seen to me being engaged to a woman I have never laid eyes on in my life?”

Clara sighed. “It is all your fault, you big oaf. If you had just waited until I could arrange a more clandestine location to meet, Miss Corrine Davidson would not have seen me leave Lord Ballentine’s study with you on my heels. You should be grateful she’s nearsighted and couldn’t clearly make out my features. Oh, but you! No, she swears there was no mistaking your identity! I had just left Lord Hensley. Another few minutes would not have killed you!”

She took another sip and leaned back in her chair. “Imagine my surprise when she sat in my salon, telling me in front of several matrons of her discovery and how the woman looked remarkably like me!” She fluttered her hand. “I had to think quickly before she said anything further, so I laughed, buying some time. Then it came to me! I had seen the lovely Miss Alice Whiteshead earlier that evening wearing a gown very similar to mine and the exact same color. Her hair is even nearly the same shade as mine!

“So I jumped right in and said, ‘It looks like Alice Whiteshead is up to her old tricks. Here she is, back from that barbaric country and was already trying to sink her claws into the most eligible bachelor of the ton!’ Why, every woman in the room was sitting on the edge of her seat!

“Now, Corrine was a little more difficult to convince. Apparently, she is still too young to remember the circumstances under which Miss Whiteshead was forced to leave seven years ago. But the ladies were happy to enlighten her.

“So, there, you see? Our meeting still remains unexposed, you have a lovely fiancé, the lonely spinster fresh off the ship has finally had an offer, and the war office is grateful for the information I was able to provide. Everyone is happy!” She put her glass down and clapped her hands.

Colton leveled a look at her. “Let us break this down, shall we? We were seen, it was brought to your attention, you accused an innocent woman, thereby ruining her in the eyes of the ton. I now find myself engaged when a wife is the very last thing I need. A woman who has been content in her spinsterhood is being forced to wed a man she has never met. The war secretary cannot confirm the information you obtained by means he finds distasteful. And you believe everyone is happy?”

Colton slapped his hand on his desk. “Why, by all means, this calls for a celebration! I think we should start the festivities by tossing you off the third floor balcony. That should excite the masses!”

Clara sighed. “You are being overly dramatic, dear. Do try to follow my logic. I could have engaged you to Priscilla Prescott.” She shuddered. “Had I been that cruel, I would have voluntarily jumped from the third floor balcony. I would not have been able to live with myself.”

Picking her glass back up and taking a sip, she continued, “Just because the secretary does not approve of my means does not make the information any less credible. He only needs to casually request a review of Tiger Eyes captain’s log and he will be quite pleased, and grateful, for my assistance.

“And, dear, you absolutely do need a wife! There have been too many endeavors as of late by this year’s batch of so-called innocents to seduce you or make it appear as if you have compromised them, all in attempt to force you to do the honorable thing and ask for their hand. Why do you think Corrine was in just the perfect vantage point to witness my exit? Because she and her mother had devised a plan to trap you. You should be thanking me, Colton!”

The duke glared at her. “Do you honestly believe the nonsense you just spouted, Clara?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It is obvious you do.”

He slowly stood and walked to the window, allowing his simmering temper to cool. Peering at the manicured grounds below, he asked, “What of Miss Whiteshead? I have absolutely no knowledge of her nor she of me.” He turned to face her. “Explain her background so that I may have a more clear understanding as to why you find her the more desirable choice of bride for me.”

He would never admit it, but Clara’s improvised plan did have merit. It would get the little ambitious debutants and their marriage-minded mommas off his back and would allow him to operate more freely.

Clara turned in her chair to watch him. “You seriously do not remember the scandal and her abrupt departure for America?” She thought for a moment. “Of course, you do not. You were in France at the time, and you have never had any interest in societal intrigue.”

Motioning to his chair, she said, “Please, Colton. Take a seat. I will explain, but I would rather you sit so that I will not get a kink in my neck looking up at you.” She turned back around and took another sip. “My, but you are a tall one.”

Colton resumed his seat, not to accommodate Clara but for his own comfort. Knowing her as he did, he knew this explanation would be lengthy, allowing for her own opinions to be inserted to enhance the story.

“Seven years ago was Miss Whiteshead’s coming out season. Oh, but she was lovely! Blond hair, blue eyes, the epitome of English aristocracy! She was a cut above all of the current offerings of that year because of the considerable intelligence that shone in her eyes. She was definitely not one of the simpering misses the ton turns out every year. She was pursued by many but did not seem to have a preference for any one man. Her mother and father appeared to be allowing her the freedom to make her own choice but were diligent in supervision and took their chaperone obligations seriously.

“Unfortunately, one night at the Thornton ball, one enamored suitor convinced her to step outside for some fresh air.” She frowned. “Or maybe he maneuvered her out the open doors during their dance. That part is still somewhat sketchy at best. No one has ever really received a clear explanation.”

Shrugging, she continued, “Anyway, when her mother realized her absence, she immediately went in search of her daughter. When she came upon the young suitor, he was trying to force the young Miss Whiteshead into a waiting carriage. Her mother flew at him, trying desperately to extricate her daughter from his clutches. The horses spooked. Marilyn managed to shove her daughter clear of the carriage, but her own gown was caught, and it drug her alongside the fleeing carriage, finally dragging her underneath its grinding wheels.” Drinking the last from her glass, she said bluntly, “She was killed instantly.”

Clara paused, staring into her now empty glass. “Her death devastated the family. They went into mourning, and, within the month, Alice was shipped off to her aunt in America and was not seen or heard from again for seven years.” She looked up at Colton. “Until this year.”

Colton took a few moments to digest the plethora of information that Clara had just divulged. It was quite overwhelming to his fuzzy mind. Maybe he should lighten up on the scotch.

“And whatever happened to this ambitious suitor? Was he held accountable for his crimes?”

“Strange, that. He was never identified. No one admitted any knowledge of the man, how he was admitted to the ball, or whom made the introduction to Miss Whiteshead. It was quite the mystery. But Marilyn was dead, Alice ruined, and a family destroyed, all in the course of a few minutes.”

Clara leveled a look at him. “Alice deserves a chance at redemption. She is no longer a romantic child looking for her knight in shining armor or a happily ever after. She is a grown woman of five and twenty who is sensible and has endured tragedy that would have crippled a lesser person. She is positively stunning but not vain. She would be an asset to any man but will not suffer fools.”

Her voice softened as she leaned forward. “She is loyal to a fault. She will need a strong man to stand beside her and stare down those who still falsely judge her and a strong hand to tame that spirit and use it to his own advantage.”

As if realizing she was sounding almost sentimental, Clara straightened. “Besides, it will be nothing short of a miracle if you get her to the altar. She may appear to capitulate, for now. But make no mistake, Miss Alice Marie Whiteshead has no intention of being leg shackled to you or any other man.”

And just as he was starting to soften his opinion of the chit, Clara stood up and placed her glass on his desk. “Well, I have another appointment to keep and have no further time for idle chitchat.” She walked around the desk and placed her hand on Colton’s shoulder. “I wish you the best of luck, love. You are going to need it!” Giggling, she walked to the mantle and pushed a hidden button. With a click, a secret entrance opened, and she stepped through. Peeking back out, Clara whispered, “Toodles, dear! Take care!” Pulling the door closed behind her.

Damn. He should have strangled her while he had the chance. Now he was actually contemplating his future bride and their impending marriage.

Double damn.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, using his desk as leverage. There was somewhere he was supposed to be. Given a minute or two, he may remember where that was.

Fumbling in his waistcoat, he retrieved his pocket watch. He could not seem to make out the time clearly. He must have something in his eyes. Maybe Clara had stirred up some dust when she was pretending to clean.

He was sure that there was someone he was to see shortly. Or later. The watch clearly did not know the time, nor did he.

Flopping back down in his chair, he closed his eyes. Maybe if he rested them for a few moments they would clear, as well as his head.

Maybe.