The Dutiful Duke Read online

  "A wise consideration," Wyatt commented, remembering the afternoon he'd caught Amanda attempting to scale the shelves in his library. "That reminds me, there are several trees at the estate that are sure to prove a temptation to one with Amanda's adventuresome spirit. I would be forever grateful if you could keep her from killing herself."

  "I shall do my best, Your Grace," Nia promised, thinking that at the first opportunity she would instruct Amanda in the proper way to climb a tree. It was either that, she mused, or put the child back in leading strings. She'd already noticed Amanda studying the trees in the park with a speculative gleam in her eyes.

  Wyatt saw the thoughtful look on Nia's face and guessed what she was thinking. "Should your best include a demonstration in the fine art of tree-climbing, Miss Pringle, might I suggest you take care not to fall?" he teased, his eyes lingering on hers. "Governesses are rather like horses, you see. In the sad event they should break a limb, we have them shot."

  Nia was still chuckling over the remark the following afternoon as she and Amanda were enjoying their stroll in the park. When she'd first made the duke's acquaintance she'd thought him puffed up beyond all bearing, but since then her opinion of him had altered considerably. Oh, he could still be insufferably high in the instep, she conceded, her lips softening in an indulgent smile, but his arrogance was more than balanced by the compassion he showed to those about him. Why, only yesterday he—

  "Miss Pringle! Miss Pringle, it's him!"

  Amanda's outburst startled Nia out of her reverie, and she glanced around, half-expecting to see the object of her daydreams standing before her. "There is who, dearest?" she asked, when she couldn't find any sign of the duke.

  "The man!" Amanda exclaimed, dancing from one foot to the other. "The man who has been following us!"

  Nia's gaze flew in the direction Amanda was indicating with her finger, and she saw a black carriage parked in the street opposite the park. The driver had been turned in their direction, but when he saw her watching him, he turned away and hunched down in his greatcoat.

  "You're sure it's the same man?" Nia asked, wondering if she ought to confront the fellow. "It isn't someone who merely looks like him?"

  Amanda shook her head. "He has a funny face," she insisted, twisting her own features to demonstrate. "And when he sees me watching him, he always tries to hide. Like now."

  He was trying to hide, Nia admitted, watching the man as he shifted nervously on the carriage's high seat. She reasoned an innocent man would have no cause to avoid detection, and her anxiety increased. Lord Tilton was a wealthy man, and it was possible they had attracted the attention of some nefarious person. The prospect made her tighten her hold on Amanda's hand.

  "You say you've seen this man several times before?" she asked, cursing herself for not listening to Amanda when she first mentioned the villain.

  "He waits by the gate until we go by. I wasn't sure if that was him, but when the other man peeked out the carriage window, I knew it was."

  "What other man?" Nia demanded in alarm. This was the first time Amanda had ever mentioned more than one.

  "The other man in the coach," Amanda elaborated, her tone making it obvious she considered her governess a shocking slow top. "He's there sometimes, too."

  "And what does he look like?" Nia began looking for the footman who usually accompanied them. She saw him by the rosebushes flirting with a pretty nursemaid and summoned him over with a wave of her hand.

  "I've never seen his face," Amanda admitted with a shrug, "but he has spectacles, like yours. I saw them sparkling in the sunlight when he turned his head."

  Certain this was a detail the little girl would never have invented on her own, Nia decided it was time to take action. When the footman rejoined them, she turned Amanda over to him.

  "Take her ladyship home at once," she ordered, her eyes never leaving the coach. "I'll be along in a few minutes."

  "But, Miss Pringle, His Grace said I was to keep my peepers on ye both!" the footman protested, his cheeks paling in distress. "He'll give me the boot if he finds out I left ye alone!"

  The carriage was beginning to move, and Nia knew she'd have to hurry if she wanted to get a good look at whoever was inside. "Just do as I say!" she commanded, picking up the skirts of her gown and running toward the street.

  "You there, hold!" she called out sharply, her eyes flashing in indignation as she saw the carriage pulling away. "Stop! I would speak with you!"

  She dashed into the street, a plan to block the carriage's retreat half-formed in her mind. But rather than pulling up as she expected, the driver brought his whip down on the horse's backs and whistled a sharp command. In a flash Nia realized the foolishness of her actions, but by then it was too late. The carriage was almost on top of her, and there was no time to think.

  She turned toward the curb, but before she could move she was tackled, the impact throwing her to one side. A strong pair of arms closed about her waist, holding her protectively as she and her rescuer tumbled to the ground and rolled out of the path of the carriage's wheels.

  Nia could hear screams and shouts about her, but her only thought was that her prey had escaped. Angry and frightened, she took out her displeasure on her rescuer. "Curse it, he is getting away!" she snapped, wiping the mud from her face as she struggled to a sitting position. "What the devil do you think you were doing?"

  Instead of the stammering protest she expected, she heard a cold, clipped voice that was all too familiar. "How odd you should ask that, Miss Pringle," the duke said, his voice freezing Nia as her gaze flashed up to his hard, implacable features. "I was about to ask you the very same thing."

  Chapter 7

  "Well, Miss Pringle? I am waiting."

  The duke's deep voice was edged with sarcasm as he regarded Nia from his post by the fire-place. He was standing with one arm resting on the mantel, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, but his indolent pose in no way deceived her. It was obvious her employer was in a towering rage, and she knew she'd have to tread lightly if she hoped to retain her position.

  As she always did when she was uncertain, Nia retreated behind a wall of belligerence. "I am sure things were not quite so perilous as they appeared, Your Grace," she said, her mouth set in a truculent line as she raised her face. "I was but attempting to detain the coach so that I could see who was inside. I was never in any real danger."

  "Were you not?" Wyatt demanded coldly, his hand balling in a fist as he remembered his fear when he'd seen the coach bearing down on her. "You forget, ma'am, I am the one who snatched you from beneath the wheels of that carriage. I am more than aware of the danger you courted with such reckless abandon. It is a miracle you weren't killed."

  Nia paled, her stomach lurching at the memory of the huge wheels passing within inches of her head. If the duke hadn't acted as quickly as he had, she could well be lying broken and bleeding on the cobblestone street. She lowered her gaze to her hands, noticing somewhat distractedly that they were still streaked with mud. After they'd arrived home the duke had hustled her into his study before she'd had a chance to change, and she was only now realizing what a fright she must look.

  Not him, though, she thought, resentment simmering in her breast. He hadn't so much as a hair out of place, and his nankins were as smooth as ever, despite that he had taken the brunt of their fall. She was brooding over the inequity of this as he continued his lecture.

  "I can understand your concern for Amanda's safety," Wyatt said in a tight voice, making, he thought, a heroic effort to be patient. "But you ought to have come directly to me rather than tried to handle the matter on your own."

  "But I had to stop him!" Nia protested, lifting her gaze from her morose study of his neat cravat to send him an indignant glare. "He would have escaped!"

  "And what if he had?" Wyatt demanded, infuriated by her continued obstinacy. "At least then we might have had a chance of catching him!"

  The defiance went out of Nia. "What do you mea
n?"

  "I mean while the man . . . whoever he might be . . . thought himself unobserved, we might have been able to set a trap for him," Wyatt retorted, seeing no reason to spare her feelings. "But now that he knows we are aware of him, the Lord above knows what he might do next."

  His words struck Nia crueler than any whip might have done. She had been foolish, she admitted, swallowing a painful lump in her throat, and worse, it might not be she who paid the price but Amanda. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, fighting back tears of shame.

  Wyatt saw her bend her head, and felt his own contrition. He'd wanted to drive home how imprudent she'd been, but he'd never meant to make her cry. Feeling every inch the villain, he pushed himself away from the fireplace and crossed the room to kneel beside her.

  "Come now, tears?" he chided, slipping his hand beneath her chin and raising her face to his. "Never say the redoubtable Miss Pringle would actually dissolve into a watering pot merely because of a few scolding words? How disillusioning."

  His teasing words had the desired effect as Nia gave a reluctant laugh. "I sincerely hope a few tears would not qualify me for such an appellation, Your Grace," she said, blinking as she met his gaze. "And for your information, I wasn't crying because you reprimanded me."

  "You weren't?" He stroked his thumb over her cheek.

  "No," she replied, trying not to blush at his touch. "I . . . I was upset because you are right. It was wrong of me to act so thoughtlessly. Amanda might have been hurt because of me."

  "Perhaps Amanda wasn't my main concern," Wyatt said, and was shocked to realize he was speaking the truth. Astonishing as it sounded, his only thought had been to reach Nia before the oncoming carriage crushed her beneath its wheels. He hadn't even thought of Amanda until he saw her standing next to the horrified footman, her small face streaked with tears.

  Nia stared up at him, her heart pounding with a fear that had little to do with her brush with death. For more nights than she dared admit, images of the duke had kept her awake as she longed for things a woman in her position had no right to long for. Fearing he would read her thoughts in her eyes, she turned her head, freeing her chin from his gentle hold.

  "Yes, I recall what you said about governnesses who break their limbs," she said with a shaky laugh, her eyes fixed on one of the portraits lining the wall. "I should hate to put you to the trouble of finding a new governess at such short notice."

  Wyatt gave her a sharp look, aware of a strong desire to correct her assumption that his interest in her was solely because of her value to Amanda. Only the knowledge that such a confession would shock her kept him from acting on his impulses, and with great effort he swallowed the words. His face was expressionless as he helped her to her feet.

  "I want you to spend the rest of the afternoon in bed," he ordered, placing his hands on her shoulders for a moment. "And you will allow the doctor to examine you. I don't think you are hurt, but I prefer not to take any chances."

  Nia felt such precautions were unnecessary, but when she saw the concern in the duke's dark eyes, she held back her objections. "As you say, Your Grace," she said instead, her voice cool as she forced herself to meet his gaze.

  His lips quirked. "Don't be too docile, my dear," he warned with a soft laugh, "else I shall insist you be bled as well. You must surely be sickening after something if you are going to give in so easily."

  The following afternoon Nia was in the schoolroom going over Amanda's penmanship papers when the maid appeared with a message that the duke wished to see her.

  "He said you was to wear your cape, Miss Pringle," the maid added, her eyes bright with speculation. "And he has called for his carriage as well."

  "Did he say I was to bring Lady Amanda?" Nia asked, wondering if the duke was taking them on a drive, as he occasionally did.

  "No, miss, just you."

  Other than raising her eyebrow at the maid's smug tone, Nia managed to hide her trepidation. She didn't really think Wyatt (as she privately thought of him) would dismiss her because of yesterday's contretemps, but she couldn't be certain. The thought was depressing, but she was determined to take the news with as much pride as she could muster. She was her father's daughter, she told herself sternly, and she would face the enemy's fire with courage and determination.

  Lord Tilton was pacing the hall as she came down the stairs, and when he looked up and saw her, his lips lifted in a smile of welcome. "Good day, Miss Pringle," he said, coming forward to take her hand. "May I say how pleased I am to see you aren't one of those ladies who delights in keeping a fellow waiting while she primps? I own I've little patience for such creatures."

  His teasing words brought an annoying rush of color to Nia's cheeks. "A true lady is known for her punctuality, Your Grace," she said, privately vowing to keep a proper distance. "And you may make sure I shall install that belief in Lady Amanda."

  Her starchy tone and the cool look of censure on her face had Wyatt biting back a smile. He wondered if she knew how adorable she looked when she was trying so very hard to be prim. "Then I am a most fortunate guardian," he drawled, deciding to press his luck by carrying her hand to his lips for a brief kiss. "Now I shan't have to listen to Amanda's beaus complaining when she keeps them cooling their heels in the parlor."

  Short of engaging in an undignified struggle, Nia had no choice but to allow Wyatt to retain possession of her hand. "Nancy said you wished to see me, my lord," she said instead, her back rigid as she fixed her gaze over his right shoulder.

  Wyatt took pity on her and released her hand, albeit with a sharp pang of reluctance. "Yes, I wanted to discuss yesterday's incident with you," he said, stepping back. "And I thought it might be pleasant for you to have some air at the same time."

  Nia was tempted to inform him that she was in no need of such a commodity, but something stopped her. As her employer, he was within his rights to command her presence anywhere he pleased, within reason, but she doubted this was a mere whim on his part. Something was clearly afoot, and she waited until they were in the privacy of his coach before demanding to know what was going on.

  "You don't think one of the staff is involved in all of this, do you?" she demanded, coming to what she felt was the only logical conclusion. "They are devoted to Amanda!"

  "Even the most devoted servant has been known to wag his tongue when he would have been better advised holding it," Wyatt answered cryptically, his jaw setting with anger. "I have an uneasy feeling those men, whoever they are, knew precisely who Amanda is, and they had to learn that from someone. I shall not rest until I learn who that someone is."

  "But—"

  "Enough of that for the moment," Wyatt interrupted, settling back against the seat. "Tell me what you think of London. Will you miss it, should you leave?"

  "What has that to do with anything?" Nia demanded, glowering at him in frustration. "We were discussing Amanda!"

  "We always discuss Amanda," Wyatt replied, unperturbed by her obvious disapproval. "But if it will help soothe your overly rigid sense of propriety, I am asking because I'm thinking of leaving London for my country estate. I was wondering how you'd feel about it."

  "I love the country," Nia assured him, feeling slightly foolish for her outburst. "But even if I loathed it, it wouldn't matter. I'd never leave Amanda."

  "Of course." Wyatt wondered what it was like to love someone so much that no sacrifice was too great. Lord knew it wasn't an emotion he'd ever experienced either as a lover or the one loved. Even his parents had seemed indifferent to him most of the time, and given what he suspected of his birth, he supposed he couldn't blame them.

  "Are you leaving because of what happened yesterday?" Nia asked, noting the withdrawn look on his face. "Isn't that refining too much on what might be nothing more than a coincidence?"

  Wyatt's gaze met hers. "Do you think it is a coincidence?"

  "No, but—"

  "Neither do I. And neither does Bow Street."

  His calm pronouncement brough
t Nia snapping forward. "Bow Street!" she exclaimed, her eyes round with shock. "You've hired a runner?"

  "An associate might be a more apt description," Wyatt clarified, thinking of the older man he'd spent the morning interviewing. "Runners have a tendency to attract undue attention, and I don't want to draw any more notice than we already have. Hemsley assured me no one will pay him more mind than they would any other servant."

  "Servant? Do you mean he will act as a . . . a . . . spy?" Nia was entranced at the thought.

  "I believe he prefers to think of himself as an agent operating deep in enemy territory," Wyatt said with a half-smile. "That was one of the reasons I wished to go for a drive. I don't want any of the servants, even my major domo, to know his true identity."

  That made sense to Nia, and she relaxed slightly. "Ah, then your desire to put the roses back in my cheeks was nothing but a hum, eh?" she accused, refusing to be disappointed. "You just wanted to get me off where we wouldn't be overheard."

  Wyatt gave her another of those slow smiles that made her heart race. "You wound me, Miss Pringle," he murmured, his eyes full of devilry. "I said my telling you about Mr. Hemsley was one of the reasons I wished to get you alone. The roses in your cheeks are of paramount interest to me, I do assure you."

  Instead of being flattered or even amused by his witticism, Nia experienced a flash of pain. She drew herself up and glared at him. "False flattery is like false coin, Your Grace," she snapped. "It is easily spent, but of little value."

  Her vehemence startled Wyatt. "What makes you so certain it is false?"

  "Because it is." Nia was furious to find she was close to tears. Her feelings for Wyatt were new and troubling, and it cut her to the quick that he should treat her like a flirt. "If I learned nothing else in my years with my father, it was to look at life as it is, not as we would wish it to be."

  "Then you wish my flattery was true?" he asked, trying to fathom what had upset her.