The Scandalous Love of a Duke. Jane Lark

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      Katherine set down the darning she was working on and rose from her chair by the window.

      The weather had turned chillier today, although it was still sunny, and several white fluffy clouds flew across the sky on a brisk summer breeze.

      Her mother and sister were out calling on those they were inviting to the ball. Katherine had not been asked to join them. Her mother never treated her as part of the family. But that was an ancient fact, and the pain it caused so old now it was dulled.

      Yet perhaps there was still tallow to keep her hurt burning, because she had stayed in her room to hide her exclusion from the house servants.

      “Leave it on the bed, Hetty, and bring the tea up to my room as no one else is in.”

      Katherine’s gaze fell to the box when Hetty put it down. Perhaps Phillip had bought it? Whatever it was.

      “I’ll fetch it now, Miss.”

      The maid disappeared as Katherine walked over to the parcel.

      It was tied with string and she pulled it free, feeling excited despite her current melancholy mood. Hetty had been right, Katherine was rarely given anything new.

      When she lifted the lid her heart pounded. It was the bonnet she’d admired in Maidstone the day before. It lay nestled in a bed of tissue paper.

      She lifted it out with shaking fingers. It was beautiful, but it could not be from Phillip.

      There was a card beneath it.

       I saw you staring and wish to give you what you desire.

       J

      He had not! No! He could not have done. How could he?

       John!

      Oh he was so arrogant.

      Without any care for the fashionable creation, she stuffed it back in its box, furious. She may be provincial, but she knew a woman should not accept gifts from a man.

      If her mother had seen it…

      If her father had!

      Did John think she did not know the connotation? Or did he mean to buy her favour? He’d kissed her twice.

      He’d risked her reputation by sending this.

      Oh the arrogant, selfish man.

      Angry, she turned to her small travelling desk and withdrew a quill and paper.

       No thank you, Your Grace. On all accounts, I am afraid I may not accept.

       K

      ~

      John stared at the rows of facts and figures in annoyance. There were no anomalies in the ledgers. He could find nothing wrong. Yet something did not make sense. There was the inexplicable loan and then there was the way Wareham behaved.

      This morning the man had come to John with a taunting smile on his face, as if he wished to know if anything had been found in the books and then had been gloating over the fact it had not.

      He’d asked John if he wished to ride along one of the estate’s boundaries. John had accepted and so he’d had the pleasure of Wareham’s insolent company for three hours.

      They had ridden mostly in silence but when they’d met tenants, John had had to correct Wareham’s words on two occasions. It obviously infuriated the man, but John could hardly let things slip when Wareham was deliberately being facetious. Wareham needed ruling with an iron hand. This could be a powder keg if John let any spark be lit. The man had influence in every one of John’s estates.

      The morning had merely made John decide to ask Harvey to employ an investigator and track the loan Wareham had made from the other end, to investigate why it had been given.

      A light knock hit the sitting room door.

      “Come in,” John called, glad of the interruption and sick of the accounts.

      “Your Grace,” Finch’s deep tone echoed into the room, as a footman entered bearing a parcel.

      John’s brow furrowed and he rose as the footman set it down, then undid the string and lifted the lid.

      It was the bonnet he’d sent to Katherine, carelessly thrown atop its wrapping with a scrawled note cast on top of it.

      He laughed when he read it. No indeed. God, the girl amused him. She had not said no to his kisses, and he was not inclined to accept it now. She had liked the bonnet. He wished her to have it. He wanted her to favour him over her vicar. Perhaps the cherries ought to be apples and her, Eve, because Katherine Spencer was temptation.

      “Finch!” John called.

      “Your Grace?” The door opened again.

      “I am going out. Have my curricle made ready.”

      Half an hour or so later, John drew his curricle to a halt before the Spencers’ small manor house and then looked back at the groom who’d accompanied him.

      The man jumped down and ran about the curricle to hold the horses.

      John climbed down and then lifted the hatbox from the seat.

      His heels crunched on the gravel as he crossed the drive to the door.

      He felt light-hearted, glad to be escaping his duty for a brief interlude.

      The door opened immediately and Castle, their butler, greeted John with recognition. “Your Grace?” He bowed. “I am afraid Mr and Mrs Spencer are not at home.”

      Excellent. John smiled. “I have come to call on Miss Katherine Spencer, Castle, is she home?”

      The man’s eyebrows lifted and he glanced at the box John carried. Of course, he’d probably seen it before.

      Well, let the man speculate, Katherine was Phillip’s sister, the gift could be explained away.

      “Will you wait in the parlour, Your Grace?”

      John walked along the hall, glancing up the stairs. If she was not in the parlour, she must be up there. He would much rather be going to her chamber to visit her. A sudden imagined vision of Katherine, hair tussled, half asleep and languid-eyed, came into his mind.

      The butler left John in the small receiving room at the back of the house, with a look of disapproval as he went to fetch Katherine.

      John set the hatbox down in an armchair, took off his hat and gloves, and then tossed them there too.

      The room was decorated in light blue and cream, and was probably the size of Wareham’s office.

      A large portrait hung on one wall: Phillip in his wig. John smiled, looking at the miniatures on another СКАЧАТЬ