Ballrooms and Blackmail (18 page)

“I may be related to a duke,” Nathan told
him, “but I’m not on the market for a wife at this time.”

“Lucky for you,” he replied, gaze rising to
the distance. “I might have said the same until recently.”

The picture fell into place. Indeed, Nathan
was amazed he hadn’t seen it sooner: the way Lady Emily hung on the
Runner’s arm, the way they nearly finished each other’s
sentences.

Nathan smiled at him. “Courting is not for
the faint of heart, to be sure. But I believe a father who cares
for his daughter would be pleased to have such an upstanding
gentleman like yourself come calling.”

His smile was much smaller. “In some
circles. My mother assures me I’m quite the catch in Wapping:
honest profession, reliable income, opportunity for promotion.” His
smile faded with the light. “But I look at the fellows who call on
Lady Emily, fine gentlemen, young lordlings, and I know I wouldn’t
be welcome. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised to find myself laughed
out of the house.”

“Have you spoken to her?” Nathan murmured,
not even sure why he had lowered his voice.

Cropper shook his head. “Why put her in the
position of having to refuse me?”

“She might accept,” Nathan reminded him.

“And I cannot convince myself that would be
the best for her. As it is, I feel as if she must make her choice.”
He took off his cap and slapped it against his thigh, then drew in
a breath as he returned it to his head. “Sorry, Kent. This is none
of your affair. But it’s hard thing, wanting and knowing you cannot
have.”

“It is indeed,” Nathan agreed. And he could
not help thinking of Priscilla, wanting wealth and position, and
him standing in the way. It was a miracle she hadn’t pushed over a
statue, on him.

*

Priscilla wasn’t sure why she found Nathan’s
determination so encouraging. If neither Bow Street nor Emily could
discover her tormenter, what hope did he have? Yet she could not
deny that her spirits rose as he and Jamie returned to her side and
assured her they were both on the case.

They all agreed that the less His Grace knew
about the matter, the better. Given his personality, he would
either blurt out the danger to a common stranger or give away any
plan they might put into effect to catch the criminal.

She knew Aunt Sylvia would have insisted
that she use her new understanding of the duke’s limitations for
her benefit. What better than a wealthy man in need of guidance on
how to live his life and spend his money? But she had to own she
was a bit disappointed. Given the choice, she’d have much rather
spent her life sparring with her husband than coddling him.

Then again, she had lost significant ground
with His Grace. Nothing said she would be spending any part of her
life with him.

Truly, she should be devastated.

Instead, she felt surprisingly buoyant as
she sat in the duke’s carriage beside Glynnis on the return trip to
Mayfair. The duke had recovered sufficiently from his brush with
danger to prattle on about it, the weight of the statue
(“enormously heavy”), its construction (“solid stone, you know”),
and its purpose (“who would have built such a thing?”). Only
Glynnis was willing to debate the matter with him.

“I believe it dated from the medieval
period, Your Grace,” she said. “Although I have heard there is
evidence of activity in the area going back to Roman times.”

He wiggled his fingers at her. “Ah, what did
I tell you about those Romans?”

She giggled and covered the sweet sound with
her hand. “I believe you called them a bunch of dead foreign
fellows, Your Grace.”

Priscilla fought to keep from rolling her
eyes. Her gaze collided with Nathan’s. The quirk of his mouth told
her he was trying hard not to laugh. For some reason, that made her
smile.

“And that is precisely what they are!” the
duke declared. “Shoddy builders too. Why, if Miss Tate hadn’t
pushed me out of the way, I would have been crushed.”

Glynnis sobered as she turned to Priscilla.
“We owe you a great debt of gratitude, Miss Tate. I don’t know what
we’d do if something happened to His Grace.”

Nathan’s look darkened, and Priscilla felt a
chill run through her. He would have lost everything.

“Neither do I,” the duke agreed. “But then,
I suppose it wouldn’t have mattered to me. I’d be dead.”

Priscilla couldn’t help her shudder at the
reminder. She was thankful Nathan changed the subject then.

He insisted on driving her home rather than
depositing her at Emily’s. She almost refused. So far the number of
people who’d seen her family’s tiny mismatched home was limited to
friends and the Dalrymples. But for some reason, she wanted them to
see the truth about her life.

No, that wasn’t true. She wanted Nathan to
see it. If he was going to investigate these notes, he would have
to learn the truth. Very likely she would have to tell him about
Aunt Sylvia, but not today. Today, catching a glimpse as to how far
she had fallen from the cream of Society would be enough.

“I say, it’s a little small.” His Grace
frowned out the window as the coach drew up in front of the house.
“However do you all fit?”

“Having family close can be a blessing, Your
Grace,” Priscilla said as the groom opened the door and held out a
hand to help her down. “I’m sure you’d agree.”

She glanced back to find him wrinkling his
nose. “Never have a moment’s peace, I’d say. Even Glynnis gets
tiring.”

She didn’t have to look at Miss Fairtree to
know she must have paled.

“Allow me to escort you, Miss Tate,” Nathan
said, hopping down behind her. He took her arm and walked with her
to the door. No one rushed to open it; their man-of-all-work must
be busy elsewhere in the house.

Priscilla removed her arm from his. “Thank
you, Mr. Kent, for everything.”

Nathan leaned forward, holding her gaze. “Be
careful. Until we know the nature of our note writer, we cannot be
certain today wasn’t the first of more attacks. Go nowhere alone,
and keep your wits about you.”

“You too,” Priscilla replied. “I am not
convinced that we are looking for a man. If this person truly
believes the duke is meant for her, she may go to drastic measures
to gain his attentions.”

“I’ll be watchful.” To her surprise, he took
her hand and bowed over it. The pressure of his fingers sent a
tingle up her arm. His gaze touched hers again, as soft as a
caress. Time stopped, and she forgot to breathe.

“Come along, Natty,” the duke called. “Don’t
we have somewhere else we need to be?”

Nathan straightened. “Not in the slightest,
but don’t tell him that.” He winked at Priscilla, then turned for
the coach.

She drifted into the house with a smile.

Her mother was waiting in the entry hall.
Though the hour was growing late, she was still gowned in her day
dress and wisps of her hair framed her face as if she’d been
running about.

“Was that His Grace’s carriage?” she
asked.

Priscilla nodded, smile fading.

Her mother pushed past her for the window
beside the door, drawing back the curtain and peering out. Then she
let the material fall and sagged to rest her forehead against the
doorframe. “Oh, thank goodness. He’s gone.”

“Mother,” Priscilla said, feeling as if the
walls were drawing closer, “what’s happened?”

Her mother straightened and turned to her,
face white. “We are ruined.”

Priscilla sighed. “We’ve been ruined for
months. What’s different about today? Did another dun arrive with
bills? The grocer refuse to extend more credit?”

“Worse,” she insisted, seizing Priscilla’s
arm and pulling her toward the withdrawing room. “Much worse.”

What could be worse than threats to her
future and her life? Of course, her mother didn’t know about the
notes or the statue’s fall. Very likely, worse to her was a lost
slipper.

She followed her mother into the room,
prepared to listen, console, and calm. But the sight of their
visitor froze her in place. The house seemed to be shifting around
her, the light dimming.

A woman sat on the rose brocade sofa, raven
hair wild about her perfectly oval face, gray gown shapeless on her
once admirable figure. Her ruby lips curved in a smile.

“Oh, aren’t you pretty?” Aunt Sylvia cooed.
“I think I saw you at the graveyard earlier. Come sit, and we can
share stories.”

Nathan and the duke called unfashionably
early at the Emerson town house the next day. His cousin had either
forgotten that Nathan had tendered his resignation the day before
or ignored it, as he tended to ignore anything unpleasant. Nathan
had not reminded him. For what he must do to protect Priscilla,
being related to a duke was very helpful.

As it was, he thought he and his cousin
could be forgiven their precipitous arrival considering the nature
of the information they must impart. He was only disappointed to
find that Priscilla was not yet in residence.

“Told you we should have called at her
house,” His Grace complained to Nathan before the butler announced
them to the assembled group. Lady Emily was seated on the sofa,
with the Courdebas sisters on chairs on either side, for all the
world as if they’d been waiting for him and the duke. Lady Minerva
was not in evidence, but perhaps she was still abed.

The others looked awake and ready for the
day. The Misses Courdebas were dressed in soft muslin gowns trimmed
with blue ribbon, while Lady Emily wore a green gown with a white
tucker that made her brown eyes appear even darker than usual as
she welcomed Nathan and His Grace.

“We wanted to share what we gleaned since
the incident yesterday,” Nathan explained as His Grace settled his
tall frame on a dainty gilded chair that brought his knees past his
waist.

“Where’s Miss Tate?” the duke interrupted,
twisting on the chair as if trying to get comfortable. “She needs
to hear this.”

“We expect her any moment,” Lady Emily
promised him.

“Comfit, Your Grace?” Ariadne asked, holding
out a silver salver on which several confectionary treats
rested.

His Grace brightened as he scooted forward
to select one.

“What did you learn, Mr. Kent?” Lady Emily
asked.

Her eyes were bright, her face more animated
than he had seen. She seemed to genuinely enjoy this sleuthing.

“Perhaps we should wait for Miss Tate,”
Nathan hedged.

Daphne waved a hand. “We’ll tell her. We
share everything.”

He could well believe that. It seemed the
four of them were nearly inseparable at times. Yet he wasn’t sure
Priscilla would appreciate receiving his news second hand. And he
rather wanted to be the one to tell her.

Her sister was more interested in the duke
at the moment. “We are very excited about your masquerade
tomorrow,” she assured him, holding the salver closer to allow him
to select another of the luscious bon bons. “I’m rather pleased
with our costumes, if I do say so myself.”

Daphne clapped her hands with evident glee.
“You will love them, Emily! Ariadne is going as Athena, the Greek
goddess of wisdom, and I am to be Diana, goddess of the hunt. I
even talked mother out of bombazine!”

Nathan wasn’t sure why the stiff fabric
would have been involved, but Lady Emily’s smile hitched up.
Ariadne, however, turned pink.

“You aren’t supposed to tell!” she
protested, slapping the tray down on the table so hard the little
candies bounced.

Daphne blinked. “Why not? How else are our
friends to recognize us?”

“I believe the costume is part of the
mystery of the masquerade,” Nathan explained as her sister muttered
something about aborted plotlines.

His Grace stirred himself to reach for
another comfit. “Bit of a nuisance, if you ask me. It was all
Glynnis’s idea.”

“Indeed.” Lady Emily narrowed her eyes. “And
where is Miss Fairtree today? Isn’t she generally to be found in
your company?”

“She is putting the final touches on her own
costume and begged off this visit,” Nathan replied. He’d been only
glad. He didn’t really want to drag poor Glynnis into this business
with threatening notes and deadly accidents.

“How convenient,” Lady Emily murmured.

Nathan frowned at her tone. Did she think
Glynnis was trying to avoid her and her friends? He certainly
wouldn’t blame his cousin if that were the case. It couldn’t be
easy always smiling when having to live with constrained
circumstances. Of course, Priscilla was exceptionally good at
hiding her disappointments.

If not her dismay.

He saw her first. She very nearly ran into
the room, pulling up short only at the last second to stare at them
all. Her lovely face was flushed, her golden hair in delightful
disarray, and her muslin skirts trembled in her agitation. He
watched as she gathered her dignity about her like one of her
fringed shawls.

“Your Grace,” she said, venturing into the
room. “Warburton never mentioned you were visiting.”

And Nathan had sent the carriage home, which
meant no standing horses had alerted her either.

“Miss Tate!” His Grace heralded, hopping to
his feet. “There you are!”

Priscilla smiled at him before going to sit
nearby, close enough to be attentive but not so close as to appear
to be monopolizing him. Nathan could only admire her skill.

“Mr. Kent was about to tell us what he
learned of your incident yesterday,” Lady Emily explained.

He thought he was the only one to note the
shift in Priscilla’s position, as if her spine had
straightened.

“I can only hope you have determined it an
accident after all,” she said.

While he could not blame her for her hope,
he could not further it. “Alas, no,” he said, and all gazes
fastened on his. “After I let the duke off yesterday, I enlisted
Mr. Cropper’s aid. We returned to the area, questioned the
caretaker and the families living along the boundary. Several
mentioned other visitors, a man on horseback, a couple with
children, but they all claimed to have seen a woman in the area
earlier in the day, before we arrived. She could well have remained
in hiding while we visited.”