Page 5 of Love, the Duke (Say I Do #3)
C HAPTER 5
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Stalk the suspect carefully without him knowing.
Hurst had seen her across the distance of the lively ballroom floor almost as soon as he’d stepped up to the entrance. She had a familiarity that drew his interest more than he could adequately define, although he was sure he’d never met her before. He would have remembered.
As he studied her from the doorway, he couldn’t quell the thought that he must have been introduced to her. But where? When? Recently, for certain. There was something about her that stirred him as she stood under a chandelier with other ladies; he was sure they’d met at a party last night. Her shoulders were straight but not stiff. Her chin was high but not haughty. A tier of lush golden curls swept up attractively into a fashionable chignon and shimmered enticingly under the dancing candlelight, giving her an angelic look that attracted him immensely.
The feeling was more than just one of awareness or that sensation of being swept off his feet. It was as if somehow deep in his soul he knew she was the lady he’d been waiting for. Which was absurd since he had no idea who she was. Too, it was irrational, and he was as rational as a person could be. He’d always had to be. His father made certain of that. Furthermore, she could be married. Betrothed. Or a figment of his imagination. Maybe he’d just had too much brandy before coming to the ball.
Did he believe in love at first sight? Maybe. He certainly knew there could be instant attraction between two people. No doubt every lady could tell when a man noticed her with interest just as every man knew when a woman had interest in him.
He really didn’t know what to think about how she was making him feel. It was inexplicable. For quite some time, Hurst had felt he’d know the lady he wanted to spend the rest of his life with when he met her, but not before they’d said a word to each other. That was further than he was willing to go. Nevertheless, the longer he stood in the doorway, the more intrigued he allowed his feelings to become. He wanted to get closer to her and find out if she was indeed the one.
When he’d stepped into the ballroom and started toward her, he was besieged by men wanting to say hello or introduce him to their daughters or someone else. With as much refinement as he could muster given his mission, he managed to say a few words with each person and gently shake off first one and then other guests. But as someone peeled away, another took his place. He lost sight of her for a time as he continued through the crowd of people vying for his attention. When he drew near to where she’d been, she’d started walking away. Alone.
There was nothing to do but follow her. Back to the vestibule, down a darkened corridor, and around a corner. After another turn, she disappeared into what Hurst knew was Wyatt’s book room.
Hurst paused. Why was she going in there? Was she meeting someone? A man? In secret? He didn’t want to think about that being the case. Not yet. He hadn’t settled that strange feeling inside that said she was meant to be his. And, he wasn’t certain he should be encouraging it by following her. But forgetting about wanting to know who she was didn’t feel right either. Soundlessly, he eased farther down the corridor, making sure his shoes made silent treads.
At the open doorway, he quietly leaned his hip against the framing and slowly peered around into the interior of the room. She was at the far end with her back to him. No one was with her. The simple high-waisted design of her blue gown with capped sleeves falling softly off her shoulders was fetching. Her nape was slender and alluring with small tendrils of golden spun hair gracing her nape.
Pushing away from the door, he said, “Excuse me, miss. You must be lost.”
He was sure she had heard him. She went still. Seconds ticked by and she didn’t turn around. Maybe she was meeting someone after all and his voice wasn’t the one she was expecting. She obviously needed time to collect herself, and he was all right with that. Ladies should always be cautious.
She hesitated so long he was beginning to think she wasn’t going to answer him but then turned and focused directly on his face. In that brief instant, he knew immediately who she was. His heart pounded. There was another gut-wrenching moment when he felt she was the lady he’d been waiting for. That couldn’t possibly be. He’d already turned her down. Sight unseen.
“I’m not lost, Your Grace.”
At the sound of her gentle voice, he took a few steps farther into the room. His gaze tightened in on her fathomless blue eyes, pert nose, and pink rosebud lips. There was no doubt she and the lady who came to his house dressed as a man were one and the same, though she looked entirely different tonight, dressed properly and stunning as Miss Ophelia Stowe.
It wasn’t a wonder she’d seemed so familiar with how she carried herself when he first caught a glimpse of her. But what about the other feelings he’d experienced deep in his chest and gut? That she wasn’t just another beautiful belle to spend a little enjoyable time with, but she was the one for him.
No. She couldn’t possibly be. Not someone who would sneak into his home clothed as a man, ask him to pry around in people’s homes in search of a relic, and now seemed to be pilfering through his best friend’s home. That was troublesome. So no, she wasn’t the lady he’d been waiting for.
“You have no reason to be in here, Miss Stowe.”
“So, you do recognize me. I wondered if you would.”
Oh, yes. Her soft lilting voice and vivid blue eyes would be difficult for anyone to forget. “What’s that in your hand?” he asked tersely.
She looked at the small silver goblet and then placed it on the table beside her. “Nothing I’m interested in, but I do have cause to be here, Your Grace. I was invited to this party.”
Frowning, he hoped he’d talked her out of this nonsense when she was at his home. Her proposal to search all the book rooms of the elite of the ton was absolute madness.
“Specifically,” he said, remaining between her and the doorway, letting her know she wouldn’t get past him if she suddenly tried to leave. “What exactly are you doing in this room?”
“Why do you ask?” she answered crisply, but remained calm as a tepid, windless July day.
“I want to know. Apparently, you forgot something in your haste to snare a criminal—a chaperone to protect you against a man like me.”
Hesitancy marred her forehead, as if she took him at his word. “You do not frighten me, Your Grace.”
“I should.” He cocked his head back.
Her gaze stayed intensely on his as a not-so-innocent and highly attractive blush spread across her petal-soft cheeks.
Was she too stubborn to admit the truth or was she trying to think of an answer he might accept? He didn’t like the idea of either one. “You are, aren’t you?”
“What?”
“Up to mischief,” he responded. “I distinctly told you not to carry out such a far-fetched plan as to search houses.”
“I am under no vows or orders to obey you.”
“Do you really think a member of the ton would be so brazen as to steal a religious artifact from a church?”
“I don’t know. You have no cause to question me about what I am doing in here. Since you are so full of queries and wanting answers, why don’t you tell me why you came to this room?” she managed to ask with a good bit of glowering confidence. “Perhaps I should think you are up to mischief.”
He squared his shoulders. “I was following you.”
“Me?” That seemed to take her aback for a moment or two. She raked a hand up her long white glove and innocently asked, “Why?”
“To see where you were going,” he admitted so casually she had to know he had no guilt for doing so.
“Do you often do such questionable things, sir? Follow ladies?”
She took a cautious step back. For show, he was sure. There was no fear of him in her expression. She was undoubtably clever and far too brave for her own good. Not to mention more incredibly daring than he’d previously thought her to be.
“No, Miss Stowe. I’m certain I never have until tonight, but I’m glad I did.”
“That makes it sound as if you are the one who is up to no good, Your Grace. Following a lady down a dark corridor and cornering her in a room is unseemly.”
He gave her a knowing smile, impressed she could hold her own so well under his questioning. In truth, he would have never expected it of a vicar’s daughter. They were supposed to be sweet, humble, and shy. And while her fortitude captivated him, it also irritated the devil out of him.
“I think prying in a private area of Wyatt’s house, and in a room where ladies seldom enter if not invited, wins the battle of who is the bad person here, Miss Stowe.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Her tone dripped with indignation. “I am not prying. I am merely looking around at all the lovely pieces he has on display—I assume for one’s enjoyment. That is not bad.”
“You had to be rifling through his things. You were holding one of his cups.” He regarded her with another intense gaze. Her gumption was boundless. He pointed to the table where she placed the silver piece she’d been holding.
“Rifling? Prying? What nerve you have. You are not choosing your words carefully, Your Grace. I am merely looking at this fine collection of porcelains, silver, and what looks to be marbles from the Parthenon. Perhaps the Duke of Wyatthaven went on an expedition to Greece with Lord Elgin and picked up a few of the ancient marbles for himself.” She nodded toward the area that displayed the precious tablets and then glanced quickly around the shelves again.
“Say what you will about Lord Elgin, he probably deserves your ill thoughts, but watch what you say when you are talking about Wyatthaven.” Hurst had kept his voice low but quietly steamed inside at her nerve.
“I am only talking about what is easily exhibited to be seen. There are three fortunes in books in this room alone. Perhaps the Duke of Wyatthaven collects other things as well. Paintings or perhaps religious vessels.”
“You think Wyatt stole the chalice you are searching for?” Hurst was astonished that she would say such a thing out loud about a duke. And to another duke. She had gone too far.
“Obviously, I don’t know who stole it, so I have to consider everyone,” she responded in an annoyed tone.
“Well, I know who didn’t.” He fixed her with a cold stare as he walked closer to her but stopped a respectable distance away, still between her and the door. “Wyatt has been my good friend close to twenty years. He doesn’t have what you are looking for.”
“Not that I can see,” she admitted evenly. “Your book room wasn’t filled with priceless treasures such as these.”
“That’s because the previous Dukes of Hurstbourne never bought any.”
The more she said, the more heated he became. “You are a vicar’s daughter,” he reminded her. “I knew your father, brother, and mother. You must have been raised better than to plunder someone’s home for something that may or may not be lost. I can’t believe you would stoop to doing this.”
Obviously knowing what he was implying, her chin lifted, her body stiffened, and she glared at his implication. “I am also a vicar’s sister,” she answered just as controlled as he’d spoken. “Who, by the way, needs help because someone stole a precious item under his watch. I will find it and return it for him even if I must spend the rest of my life in prison after I do.”
“Chances are you’ll be there before you find it if you continue this madcap path you are on. They won’t take kindly to that, Miss Stowe, and neither do I. Furthermore, how will you help your brother from deep within a prison?”
“I don’t expect to go,” she answered as quickly as he’d spoken, looking anxious and adamant. “At least I am doing something, and right now it is the only thing I know to do in the short amount of time I have.”
“What would you have done if someone other than me had followed you in here?”
“Exactly what you accused me of.” A hasty puff of air passed her lips as she continued to stare crossly at him. “Much as it would bother me to do so, I would pretend to be lost. Disoriented. Perhaps even faint in hopes of gaining sympathy.”
“Faint?”
A brief smile touched her lips, and he felt as if his stomach flipped over.
He frowned, even though he found her comment immensely amusing and wanted to belt out a good laugh. “You don’t have a weak bone in your spine, and you know it.”
He didn’t like admitting it, but there was a charm about her that pleased him. He wondered if she had any idea she could have him under her spell if she tried to entice him instead of irritating him at every turn.
“I suppose that fainting was a bit far-fetched,” she admitted without a pinch of arrogance in her tone.
Indeed, he thought, finding her so much more attrac tive than he’d wanted to. He could be enamored with her, but it simply wasn’t possible she was the lady he’d been waiting for.
“In any case, I don’t intend to share all my plans with you,” she went on after another brief smile. “However, I will say my best excuse is it’s my first time in London and I’ve never seen such luxurious homes. I inadvertently wandered away from the ballroom. But with the splendid beauty, I couldn’t help myself. Even the ceilings are worthy of attention with their design of wood casings, fretwork, and paintings. I enjoy reading and bear no shame for wanting to see the book room with its smells of aged books, pipe tobacco, lamp oil, and burned wood.”
She looked so innocent and expressively convincing as she spoke, a crack of a smile touched his lips as well. If she weren’t in essence accusing his best friend of theft, she’d be delightful.
“You are a spitfire, Miss Stowe.”
She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders and glanced around the room again. “No, but I do wonder if the duke might collect other things. The pieces he has in here are truly extraordinary.”
It was as if this beautiful, intriguing young lady was deliberately trying to anger him and get the better of him. If so, she wasn’t far from reaching her goal.
“We will settle this once and for all right now, Miss Stowe.” Hurst moved to stand almost toe-to-toe with her and immediately realized that was a mistake. He caught the enticing scent of her sweet womanly perfume. It teased his senses and tempted him to forget what he was going to say and, instead, gather her into his arms, snuggle her to him, and tease the warmth of her neck with kisses. Hurst blinked that image away and pushed such thoughts to the back of his mind.
Denying the pull of her attraction and leaning in closer, he said, “Wyatt doesn’t collect anything but winnings when he plays in matches for his sporting club. Most of these artifacts were amassed by his grandfather.” Though tense, he lowered his voice. “I’m going to tell you what I know your brother would say if he were still with us: Searching homes must stop.”
She remained strong against his closeness, but he knew it wasn’t easy for her when he saw her swallow hard before replying, “I’m not one to back down from something simply because it is difficult, Your Grace. If you’ll remember, you refused to help me.”
“You are damned right; I did. For your own good.”
Her arched brows shot up, but there was no way he was going to apologize for his language. And she might hear worse before their conversation was over.
“You are searching Wyatt’s home. A man who has never wanted anything in his life but to win his wife’s love. Which he finally did. He had a hospital built for military men wounded fighting Napoleon’s army and he fully supports it with an inheritance he received and his winnings from the Brass Deck, his sporting club. The last thing he’d have his eyes set on would be a religious artifact that would be important to believing people.”
Settling her shoulders a little lower was her only concession to the point she might have been wrong. “We will leave it that we are on opposite sides of the subject concerning the missing chalice and what I should do about finding it. I think we should peacefully go our separate ways. You don’t bother me, and I won’t bother you. I will agree what I seek is not in this house.”
But she did bother him in ways he tried not to think about. Hurst couldn’t agree they peacefully go separate paths. Somehow, she was connected to him in a manner that had nothing to do with Winston or the chalice.
“I am a realistic man. What you are attempting is not only dangerous, but it’s like looking for your hairpin in a stack of hay. I don’t want to see you in any kind of jeopardy for this perilous behavior. Whoever stole the chalice from the church has probably sold it to someone in the dark underground world of London by now and it’s on its way to a wealthy collector in India or the Americas.”
He watched her suck in a deep silent breath. Her brow wrinkled in disbelief before it softened and morphed into concern. The truth of what he’d said wasn’t something she’d wanted to hear. It bothered him that his pronouncement had hurt, disappointed, or at least worried her, but it was true and had to be said.
“I won’t believe that.” Her voice was soft, somber, and inflected with sad truth. “I was told the man had made reference he desired it for his own collection.”
The way she reacted to his words caused Hurst to relax. He needed to do something to let her know he wasn’t the ogre she’d thought him to be. Not all the time anyway. Causing her pain wasn’t what he wanted to do. He hadn’t wanted to crush her spirit, but what she was doing could easily get her into more trouble than he could get her out of if she were caught. Whether or not he should, he felt responsible for her.
“Your disguise last week was cleverly put together. I would have never guessed you had blond hair.” He kept his voice low, persuasive. “It was astute of you to wear a dark wig and darken your brows too.”
She responded to his softer tone by easing the tightness of her shoulders. “I had excellent help from my maid and her brother, who is an apprentice at a tailor’s shop.”
“My bet is that he will own the shop one day. His workmanship is superb.”
Miss Stowe’s eyes brightened. “I thought so too. I’ll be sure to tell him about the compliment, but I won’t tell him who it came from.”
He gave her a slight nod. “But there is something—” He reached over and brushed his thumb across her eyebrow and then swept down and did the same at the edge of her chin.
Swiping his hand away, she stepped back. Scowling, she demanded, “What are you doing?”
He gave her a playful smile as he admired her strength. “You didn’t get all the kohl off your face when you washed. I was merely assisting in its removal.”
She gasped and quickly wiped the places he had touched with her fingertips, exclaiming, “That can’t be true. I’ve washed many times since then. You, sir, are no gentleman!”
“Why would any of my friends or peers want a religious relic? Do we look that angelic?” He gave her another smile. “I’ve honed my devilish charm ever since I left school. Don’t tell me that I’ve failed, Miss Stowe.”
“I assure you, you have not,” she agreed, wiping the corner of her mouth. “You have been more of a rake than a hero since the moment I walked into your book room.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, and you best remember that most men are.”
“Thankfully, you’re the only rake I’ve ever met.”
Hurst chuckled at her answer. “That is doubtful but good to hear you think so.” When he put aside what she was trying to do to unsuspecting people, he found her delightfully enticing to be with. “Does your mother know what you are up to?”
“Most of it,” she hedged. “Not all.”
“Does she approve?”
“Of course not. The entirety of everything that has happened hit her hard and she is ill over it, sometimes sending her to a sickbed for a few days.”
“Yet, she allows you to do this?”
“She accepts that there is nothing more we can do but try to prevent what we know will happen if it becomes known to the bishop and parish the chalice is missing.” Ophelia paused and swallowed hard. “I don’t have much time. If word gets out, Maman is fearful the neighbors will come to see her asking if it was Winston. The elders or bishop could start knocking on our door, wanting to search us, wondering if we were a party to the crime.”
“That sounds irrational, Miss Stowe.”
“I don’t have to be rational, Your Grace. I need to be successful. There are other concerns. Donations would go down without the renowned sacrament. Maman fears neighbors may start sneaking into the back garden and harass her with questions she has no answers for. They could start following her in the village. She continues to worry more and more for something she has no control over.”
That was easy to believe. He knew from experience when he was growing up that there was nothing some neighbors loved more than trying to solve something they’d considered a mystery.
“I’ve been gone a long time and need to get back to Maman.”
With good reason, he thought. Miss Stowe was strong, seductive, and he hadn’t seen an ounce of fear in her. Keeping his voice husky but not dangerous, he said, “I think I should escort you to the ballroom to make sure you don’t get into more trouble along the way.”
“Walking into a room with you would damage my reputation as much as it would to be caught in here alone with you. I have no desire for scandal of any kind, Your Grace, and assume you are not seeking to be stranded on the edge of a parson’s mousetrap with me.”
“Such an arrangement doesn’t appeal to me.” But strange as it was, given the mischief-making she was attempting to do, she appealed to him. More than any other lady ever had. And more and more he thought he knew why. “I don’t want to see your reputation have a glimmer of blemish. For any reason. We agree on that. However, it’s not only permissible for a man to make sure a young lady finds her way safely back to the party, but his duty.”
“Duty?” Her shoulders lifted and her expression turned from apprehensive to disbelieving. “That is an unwelcome word coming from you, Your Grace. For not wanting to meet me before you refused to marry me, for never coming to visit Winston even though he loved you as a brother, for not seeing the importance of finding the chalice to save his reputation, and for my mother’s shame should her son be branded a thief, consider any obligation you might have for me fulfilled.”
“That is a long list of recriminations for me to live down, Miss Stowe.”
“Impossible, I’d say, and I probably left something out.” She pinioned him with her blue gaze. “My brother was a man of honor who devoted his life to his calling. I will do everything within my power to see he is not blamed for something I know he did not do. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see how he grew from the boy you once knew to the fine man he was.”
Miss Stowe left no stone unturned. He had only one answer. “I pray one day you will accept my apologies that I didn’t get to do that.”
“I might well, if I thought your prayer sincere, Your Grace. From some of your language and temperament, I’m not sure you’ve been well-versed in the ways of the church.”
A soft rumble of laughter passed his lips. “I’ve known piety a Sunday or two and, as a lad, shared some of them with your brother.”
She managed a bit of a smile. “I am willing to risk my life to keep Winston’s legacy intact. If you can’t help me with the difficult things I need to do, I certainly don’t need you for something as simple as finding my way back to the ballroom.”