What the Duke Doesn't Know Page 12

  James realized that his mouth was hanging open. He closed it. But he remained incapable of speech.

  Robert laughed. “I don’t wonder you’re surprised,” he said. “I often am myself. I’m attempting to prove that I’m not a useless fribble, you see.”

  “To this ‘young lady’?”

  Robert nodded.

  “Why?” James knew that Robert attracted plenty of female attention, with scarcely any effort. He’d seen girls fluttering ’round his brother at the ton parties he’d been harried into attending.

  “Why indeed?” was the incomprehensible reply.

  “I never knew you to take so much trouble for a girl.”

  “Perhaps I never encountered such a challenge.”

  That sounded like nonsense. Robert had never appeared interested in meeting any challenges, particularly over a woman. Lounging and primping and ironic amusement were more his style.

  “But you haven’t said what you’re doing here,” his brother added, clearly changing the subject. “Are you preparing to go to sea again?”

  “Er, no. I’m…helping out a…family friend.” It sounded weak in James’s ears. Actually, he was surprised that Robert hadn’t yet gotten the news about Kawena’s arrival. The family grapevine was usually much faster than that. Preternaturally fast, in fact.

  “Friend?” he echoed.

  “Hello?”

  James turned to find Kawena standing on the stairs above them. Robert raised his eyebrows and said, “Ah.”

  James wanted to tell him that there wasn’t any “ah” involved. But that wouldn’t have helped. Nor would it have been quite true.

  Kawena looked down at Lord James and a man who must be one of his brothers. The latter gazed back at her with alert curiosity. Lord James seemed uncomfortable, and Kawena earnestly wished herself elsewhere.

  She was overwhelmed by this huge house and its silent-footed servants. Sitting upstairs in the opulent bedchamber assigned to her, she’d heard no sounds at all. The din of London was erased inside these walls, which should have been pleasant, but was in fact rather eerie. Mrs. Hastings had been kind enough, but distant, perhaps disapproving. Kawena hadn’t been able to read her expression. The reception here had been so different from Ariel’s easy welcome. She had been made to understand, without a word being spoken, that it wasn’t the usual thing for her to arrive with only Lord James. This must be a taste of the censure Lord James had threatened. And while she didn’t truly care what Mrs. Hastings thought of her, she didn’t like feeling at a disadvantage, and she resented being stowed out of sight like surplus cargo.

  Uncertain if she was supposed to wait for a summons before leaving the bedchamber, she had muttered and paced. Finally, she’d had to escape the hushed, solitary elegance. Why couldn’t they have gone to an inn? Only as she gazed down at the two men in the entryway did it occur to her that inns cost money. She hadn’t considered Lord James’s purse. This thoughtless lapse made her flush with embarrassment and feel even more off balance.

  “This is my brother Robert,” Lord James said. “Robert, this is Miss Kawena Benson, a…a friend of Ariel’s.”

  “Ah, Ariel’s,” he replied, as if this explained something.

  Why had he called her that? This wasn’t part of the “story” they had agreed to tell. Now she would be expected to know things about Ariel, to provide a history of acquaintance that she did not possess. And why did Lord James look so unhappy? Was it this new brother? Kawena examined him. He was slighter than the ones she’d met so far, with a narrower face and paler coloring; his hair was closer to red than auburn. His clothes had a subtle cut and drape that suggested both care and expense. Even an outsider like Kawena could tell he was very fashionable. She wondered if he was one of the dandies her father had mocked.

  Lord Robert offered her a beautiful bow. “Delighted to meet you.”

  After a long moment, Kawena remembered to curtsy. People actually did this. She’d seen it during her journey. When her father had explained the gesture years ago, with a very amusing demonstration, she hadn’t taken it seriously.

  “I’m sad to say that I haven’t heard from Ariel or Alan lately,” Robert added. He walked gracefully up the stairs and offered Kawena an arm. “You must tell me all about yourself.”

  “We’re on our way out,” said Lord James.

  “Indeed? Where to?”

  Kawena watched Lord Robert glance from her to his brother. His expression conveyed polite skepticism, as if silently noting that they wore no hats or other outdoor garments.

  “In a moment,” Lord James amended.

  He didn’t wish to talk to his brother, Kawena thought. Or, he didn’t wish her to talk to him. Why not?

  Lord Robert ignored him. “Surely you have time for a bit of conversation?” he asked Kawena.

  “No!” said Lord James.

  Abruptly tired of catering to his moods and of trying to figure out what silly story he wanted to tell this time, Kawena took the offered arm. Lord James had been impossible since their…interlude by the sea. It wasn’t fair. She realized that she’d rather enjoy making him as uncomfortable as she’d been feeling. And she was not going to be dragged off again without consultation. “Of course,” she said.

  Lord Robert led her back to the drawing room. “Ring for some Madeira,” he said to Lord James. “And perhaps…” He looked at Kawena. “Are you hungry?”

  Kawena nodded. She’d been hoping there was some sort of dinner in the offing.

  “I expect Mrs. Hastings could conjure a few sandwiches.”

  With a thunderous glance, Lord James went to ring the bell.

  “Splendid.” Lord Robert sat down beside her on a sofa, looking very much in charge. “Now, tell me all.”

  Kawena glanced at her traveling companion. He appeared to be sulking. That was it. She’d had enough. “I’m not really a friend of Ariel’s,” she said. “I met her when I tried to shoot Lord James.” Of course she hadn’t planned to actually fire the gun, but she enjoyed the astonishment on her listener’s face almost as much as the chagrin on Lord James’s. There was an art to telling a story, after all. “I thought he had stolen my father’s treasure, you see.”

  “Treasure,” echoed Lord Robert, his blue eyes alight with interest. “This sounds like quite a tale.”

  “There is no tale,” interjected his brother. “It was a mistake. And I would appreciate it if you would not—”

  The footman appeared. Lord Robert requested the wine and sustenance with assured charm, then turned back to Kawena.

  “Well, he did convince me that he had not taken it,” she continued. “Eventually. But it looked very bad. His ship was the only one that had visited the island at the time it went missing, you see.”

  “Island?” prompted Lord Robert.

  “My home.”

  “Ah, you met at one of James’s far-flung ports of call?” He looked back and forth between them speculatively.

  “We never met. My father would not have allowed it.”

  “Miss Benson’s father, a respectable Englishman, had settled there,” put in Lord James. “In the South Seas.”

  The word “respectable” rankled a bit. Did he imagine she required his endorsement? “I had to track down the thief, of course,” Kawena added.

  “Did you?” Lord Robert appeared to be fascinated by the idea.

  She looked at him. “Of course. No one else was going to do it.”

  “Why shouldn’t she?” put in Lord James, unexpectedly belligerent.

  “Why not indeed?”

  “So we are questioning the ship’s crew to find the one responsible,” Kawena finished.

  “James’s ship. You and he.” He cocked his head at her, blandly affable.

  “Correct.” Kawena had no idea what he really thought. She didn’t think she cared. She was weary
of puzzling over these Englishmen. And very hungry indeed.

  The footman returned with a tray. Kawena quickly devoured several small sandwiches and drank a glass of wine, conscious of Lord Robert’s speculative gaze. His brother was irritatingly silent.

  When the plate was empty, Lord Robert said, “I know a young lady who would be most interested to meet you. I think you would like her as well. Why don’t you both come along with me to a gathering at her house tonight?”

  “A lady?” Kawena looked down at her rumpled gown. Lord James had made it very clear that ladies would be the ones most likely to disapprove of her. And the English seemed positively fanatical about proper dress. It was one thing to twit the Gresham brothers, another to venture into the perilous waters of “society.”

  “Out of the question,” Lord James declared. “We’re not in town to make visits.”

  “It wouldn’t be a formal call,” his brother said. “More of a family occasion. The hostess is a second cousin of ours. A connection of Mama’s, that is. It would be a chance for Miss Benson to see a bit of London.”

  “She doesn’t like London.”

  The fact that he was right did not make his arrogance any more palatable. And perhaps there were parts of the city that she would like. How did he know?

  “You have something else to do this evening?” Lord Robert asked.

  “We don’t need anything else to do.”

  It was too much. The appearance of his brother seemed to have turned Lord James into a tyrant. She would not have decisions made for her in this high-handed way. “I’d be happy to go,” said Kawena.

  Lord James turned on her. “You will do no such thing!”

  “I beg your pardon. You do not dictate my choices. I’m sure Lord Robert will escort me if you don’t wish to go.”

  “You’re not going out alone with Robert!”

  The latter was watching them with what appeared to be rapt fascination. Kawena did not point out that she had been going all sorts of places alone with him. Nor did Lord Robert, though she suspected that he wanted to.

  “We are here to catch a thief, and for no other reason,” added Lord James. “We have no time for visits.”

  “You were planning to question someone tonight?” Kawena asked.

  “No, but—”

  “Then I don’t see why we should not—”

  “You will do as I say!”

  Kawena sprang to her feet. “Can we go right now?” she said to Lord Robert.

  He checked the mantel clock and nodded amiably. “I’ll tell the footman to find us a hack.”

  “I suppose I have to put on a bonnet.”

  “Not necessary for an evening party.”

  “Oh, good,” Kawena replied, moving toward the drawing room door.

  Lord James blocked her path. “I do not think this is a good—”

  She put a hand in the middle of his chest and pushed. He jerked away as if her touch burned. Hurt by this excessive reaction, Kawena jostled past him and strode out.

  * * *

  In the end, they all three crowded into a cab. Distracted by the feel of Kawena’s shoulder pressed against his, James didn’t hear the address Robert gave the driver. Indeed, as they rattled off, he was plagued by an unfamiliar anxiety. Although his mother was the kindest of women, she had some really prickly relations, and he feared that this lady they were going to see might be rude to Kawena. A great many society matrons would be—an unknown young woman showing up uninvited, accompanied only by him and his brother. Kawena had no idea how unpleasant such society people could be. Though when he came to think of it, the high sticklers weren’t likely to be in town at this time of year. James sat back in the seat, somewhat relieved.

  He couldn’t figure what game Robert was playing. His next oldest brother had a chancy sense of humor. Some of his pranks were hilarious; some were excruciating. Mostly, it depended on which side of the joke you found yourself inhabiting, of course. In this case, it seemed to him that they were instruments for bedeviling the mysterious young lady who was fond of Assyrians. And who knew how she would take it? Or what she would do when she discovered the jape. God only knew what lay in store for them, and how he would manage to shield Kawena from harm.

  He was well aware that he’d made a muddle of it so far. Sparks had practically shot from her eyes when he suggested—all right, insisted—that they stay at home. The words hadn’t come out right. He’d meant it for the best, for her own good. But it had emerged like an order from the quarterdeck.

  He simply didn’t know how to be with her now. He wanted to protect her, and to drag her into his arms and kiss her senseless. He wanted to force her to be sensible and to throw all caution to the winds. He wanted to offer her every measure of respect, and he…simply wanted her. Desperately. To top it off, her reactions were unpredictable. How could he save her if he never knew which way she would jump? Her presence, especially so intoxicatingly near, was twisting him into knots.

  James noticed that they’d left London’s fashionable precincts. “Where the deuce are you taking us?” he asked his brother.

  “It’s over near Russell Square. A most respectable address, I assure you.”

  James didn’t care for his tone. Robert sounded amused and self-deprecating and…altogether unlike himself. “Exactly what relation is this we’re going to see?” he finally thought to ask.

  “Aunt Agatha.”

  “What?” James sprang upright and bumped his head, quite hard, on the hackney’s ceiling. Bouncing off it, he fell back into his seat. The carriage rocked on its aged springs.

  “All right in there?” inquired the driver from his outside perch.

  “We’re fine,” responded Robert.

  James goggled at him. “We’re going to call on the dragon who stuck her parasol right through Sebastian’s kite when it came too near her? The one who told Mama we were as uncivilized as a pack of wolves?”

  “We did stage that…unsuccessful footrace in the long gallery,” Robert pointed out. “We almost knocked her down the back stairs.”

  James rubbed his skull and muttered, “How could anyone know the servants had waxed half the floor?”

  Robert laughed at the memory. “She’s not as intimidating as you remember.”

  “No one could be,” James said.

  “Who is this?” asked Kawena.

  “Oh, my God,” said James. Aunt Agatha would annihilate them with one scorching look. If she found out anything about their plan, she’d call them benighted fools. And what might she say to Kawena?

  “Who?” repeated Kawena.

  “She’s one of our mother’s cousins, though we called her Aunt,” James replied. “Out of respect for her…manner.”

  “We couldn’t quite call her ‘Cousin Agatha,’” Robert agreed. “She wasn’t anything like our other cousins. And she’s about the same age as Mama.”

  “Not really?” James had trouble putting the two in the same category.

  “She’s very pleasant when she’s not being plagued by a raging pack of boys,” Robert said. “In fact, she’s charming.”

  The carriage turned and slowed, moving past a large, imposing building.

  “The British Museum,” Robert told them.

  “How do you know that?” James wondered.

  “Aunt Agatha’s husband was a well-known scholar,” his brother continued without acknowledging the question. “He chose to live out here to be close to the collections.”

  “Collections of what?” James’s harried brain managed a connection of sorts. “Assyrians?”

  “Objects to do with Assyrians,” Robert replied.

  James thought he looked positively furtive. Which was unprecedented. Robert never looked furtive.

  “What are Assyrians?” asked Kawena, frowning over the word.

  “What
in God’s name are you up to?” James demanded.

  Robert met his eyes, and James tried to interpret his expression. He simply didn’t look like himself. Was that uncertainty in his most assured brother’s eyes? It couldn’t be.

  “It’s a simple matter, I promise you. I truly think that…the Jennings will like Miss Benson. And she them.”

  “Yes, but why would you care about that?” James wondered. As far as he could recall, Robert was not in the habit of arranging cordial introductions to benefit other people. Not that he wouldn’t, if you pressed him, and reminded him—several times. But he was usually far too occupied with his own amusements.

  “It’s…kind to connect people who may become friends,” said Robert.

  “Kind? What sort of mischief are you making here?”

  “Do you think me unkind?”

  It seemed a sincere question. Meeting his brother’s—slightly worried?—gaze, James found himself speechless.

  Robert gave him a wry smile. He put a hand to his immaculate shirtfront and bowed his head. “I swear to you that I am not making mischief. On my word of honor.”

  James had to be content with this—or, more correctly, confused by it—since the cab stopped just then before a large redbrick house. It stood in a prosperous-looking square, the center lush with plantings washed gold by the long summer twilight.

  Robert paid off the driver and went to knock on the front door. They were admitted at once and conducted upstairs. James eyed the large slab of stone hanging at the head of the staircase. It depicted an animal, a lion he thought, with the head of a man wearing a tall pointy crown over an elaborate curled wig. Or perhaps it was his own hair. But who had hair like that? The image’s expression seemed distinctly disapproving. James felt as if its eye followed him as he climbed. What kind of household had Robert brought them to?

  There were other unusual ornaments in the drawing room—a wicked-looking spear over the mantel, an array of clay tablets incised with what looked like chicken tracks, mounted on the opposite wall. The sofas and chairs were quite conventional, however. A dozen or so people stood and sat about chatting. Mostly older and dowdily dressed, they reminded James of Alan’s colleagues. At least their lack of evening dress would cause no comment here. Indeed, fashion seemed an unlikely topic in this room. Robert had been honest in that, at least.