Chapter Four

James arrived at the Duke of Kielder’s residence for the second time in as many days. His horses whinnied in irritation from the street behind him. He completely empathized. An afternoon drive with a complete stranger was hardly on his list of preferred excursions. He’d asked permission at the very last moment the day before only after realizing he’d done very little toward truly making Miss Lancaster’s acquaintance. Indeed, he’d spoken hardly a word to her.

The Falstone House butler took James’s card, his very disinterested and professional demeanor only adding to the intimidation one felt at the stately residence. Resisting the urge to tug at his suddenly tight cravat, James indicated he had come to take Miss Lancaster for a ride and added rather hastily that he was expected.

Hat in his hands, he followed the silent servant inside and up a flight of stairs. His nervousness mounted as he reached the open drawing room doors. He was not to have any kind of reprieve. His Grace sat in a chair inside, watching as James stepped into the room.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

“Sit.” The duke motioned to an empty chair with a quick flick of his hand. “You are taking Daphne for a ride in Hyde Park this afternoon.”

James nodded. His Grace did not look particularly pleased by the arrangement, though he hadn’t vocally objected the day before. He, in fact, had set this entire thing in motion.

“If you overturn your carriage with her in it, I will shoot you dead.” The duke made this pronouncement without a hint of hesitation and with every appearance of sincerity. “Dead,” he repeated with emphasis.

“I will endeavor to drive carefully, I assure you.” James had no intention of earning the ire of the Dangerous Duke.

“See that you do.” His Grace’s posture changed not a bit, but his gaze grew infinitely more cutting. James kept himself still, determined not to squirm despite his growing discomfort. “And know this”—not a hint of friendliness touched his voice—“if I hear you have hurt her in any way, I will personally cut your liver out with a spoon, instruct my chef to prepare it with onions, and will enjoy eating it immensely. And then I will kill you.”

“I was raised to be a gentleman and have every intention of living up to that ideal.”

The duke raised an eyebrow. That was all the change his expression underwent, but the effect was chilling. His web of scars tugged at his features, rendering the already frightening gentleman terrifying. James had never fully believed the rumors surrounding the Duke of Kielder, but the sight sent a ripple of unease through him. For the first time, he began to believe His Grace might truly be capable of all his reputation credited him with.

“I assure you, Your Grace, your sister-in-law will come to no harm at my hands.” He tried to sound and look convincing. The weight of the duke’s glare made him terribly uneasy.

“You will find I do not put much store by the word of a gentleman with whom I am not well acquainted. I require proof of his reliability.”

It was a warning, if James had ever heard one. The duke would be watching him. Not a particularly comforting thought. And a confusing one at that. Had not the duke asked James to call on his sister-in-law? Father said His Grace had gone so far as to suggest James court the young lady. Why, then, did the duke act as though he distrusted James as much as he would a shifty-eyed snatch-thief?

“I will see if Daphne still wishes to go driving with you.” His Grace gave no indication that he expected Miss Lancaster to do anything but give James the cut direct or, if she was feeling particularly good-natured, cordially invite him to take himself off.

His Grace’s departure did not relieve the tension. James rose and crossed the room, fighting the urge to pace—or flee. The duke had more or less forced him to call on Miss Lancaster, yet he could scarcely have been less welcoming. And when he’d called the day before, no one else had been visiting. He’d fully expected to walk into a room full of people making a good show of being Miss Lancaster’s particular friends. Something was odd in the arrangement, but he could not put his finger on just what.

“I hope you realize the duke is not being dramatic when he makes these threats. He means every word.”

James spun around at the sound of a young lady’s voice. In a tall-backed armchair near the fireplace sat a young lady with golden ringlets and an angelic face. She could not have been more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Her startlingly green eyes twinkled with unmistakable mischief. The girl, no doubt, was a handful.

“I am Artemis.” She smiled amusedly—apparently his confusion showed. “Daphne’s younger sister.”

“Miss Artemis.” He offered a small bow.

“Are you going to marry her?” She certainly didn’t want for nerve.

He managed to speak through his shock. “I am utterly unacquainted with your sister.”

Miss Artemis shrugged. “There is not much to know. She is quiet and bookish and terribly boring.” She sighed quite dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Sometimes I marvel that we are at all related.”

James had no idea what to say to that. Agreement would be ungentlemanly toward Miss Lancaster, but arguing with Miss Artemis was not acceptable either. No response proved necessary. Miss Artemis kept talking without his input.

“Our older sister Athena was a smashing success when she had her debut. Falstone House was simply crawling with gentlemen from the very first day, and she has hordes of friends every time she comes to Town. Persephone is welcomed simply everywhere. I don’t imagine Daphne will convince very many gentlemen to call on her more than twice.” Artemis shook her head. “This is your second time, so I suppose you won’t be back again.”

“I can think of no reason not to return.” In reality, he could think of plenty but knew himself committed to being a friend for the remainder of his time in London. Miss Artemis seemed unaware of her brother-in-law’s machinations. James had no intention of being the one to inform her.

He heard footsteps approaching in the corridor. Miss Artemis tucked her legs up onto the chair, indicating with a finger to her lips that she wished him to say nothing of her presence there. He looked about and realized just how he’d missed her upon first arriving. The position of her chair completely hid her from the rest of the room.

“Guard your liver with your life,” Miss Artemis whispered. “Adam is particularly fond of foie gras.”

“Which of your organs would the duke harvest if he found you here?”

Miss Artemis grinned. “All of them.”

Yes, the youngest Miss Lancaster was definitely a handful. Not wishing to get the girl in trouble nor wanting to attempt an explanation of their very private tête-à-tête, James moved closer to the door.

Miss Daphne Lancaster stepped inside an instant later. She could hardly have proven more of a contrast to her sister—dark hair, dark eyes, and entirely subdued. Her expression remained passive, no hint as to her feelings. Miss Artemis had described her sister as “terribly boring.” James could not say how accurate the evaluation was.

Seeing Miss Lancaster dressed for a carriage ride, James assumed she had not, as the duke had predicted, decided to toss him out on his ear. “Shall we, Miss Lancaster?”

She nodded. That was all the conversation he was to receive, apparently. Perhaps she meant to save all hints of gratitude for the efforts he was making until they were out of the house.

He offered his arm and led her from the drawing room to the front door. The Duke of Kielder stood in the entryway, his expression black and foreboding. That threatening eyebrow of his had lowered, though it made him only slightly less intimidating.

“Not a scratch, Tilburn.”

James dipped his head but did not manage a reply. He was doing a favor for this family, after all. Why, then, did they all seem so put out with him? Even a potentially homicidal guardian ought to lower his weapons for a ready-made friend he himself had acquired for his ward.

“Fanny.” At the duke’s command, a maid stepped to the door wearing an unprepossessing outer coat, obviously intending to spend time out of doors. “I expect a detailed accounting of all Lord Tilburn’s actions, especially those of which I would not approve.”

“Yes, Your Grace.” The maid curtsied, gave James a look of warning, and, head held triumphantly high, led the way out the door and to the waiting carriage.

A detailed report. He hadn’t expected that. It certainly was not the first time he’d taken a young lady for a ride in the park, but it was likely to be, by far, the most uncomfortable of such outings he had ever undertaken.