Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(20)

‘You wuz winding up Mr Thorne then. So ’e’s not a friend, even though he’s your coz? I likes to know, see, so I knows who’s on our side and who isn’t.’

‘Side?’ Cal probed, keeping his voice casual.

‘Granfer says that’s important for a confidential servant like me to know who the Master trusts and who he don’t.’ The tiger relapsed into thoughtful silence then added, ‘She’s got nice ’ands, the lady.’

She’s got very nice everything, Cal mused as he drew up at his own front door and handed over the reins to Ben. It was very tempting to let himself daydream about getting his hands on her.

He trudged up the steps, shoulder and back aching, half-regretting he’d taken Sophie out that afternoon and not let his shoulder heal for a few more days. But damn it, he wasn’t an invalid any longer, hadn’t been for years, and he was tough enough to get fit again without mollycoddling himself.

‘Your Grace.’ Benson, his town butler, took hat and gloves.

‘Have a hot bath drawn will you? I’ll be in my study.’

‘Your Grace, there’s – ’

‘Later, Benson.’ Cal scooped up the letters from the salver on the side table and walked down the hall as he studied the envelopes. The study door was ajar and he went in, elbowing it shut behind him, head still bent over the post as he broke the seal on the thickest letter. A sound made him glance up, just in time for a clenched fist to connect solidly with the point of his jaw.

Cal went down, banging his head against the door panels, then his bad shoulder for good measure. His right hand slid the knife from his boot even as the damaged shoulder joint screamed for mercy.

Then he saw who had hit him.

‘Ralph. What the hell was that for?’ As though I don’t know. He kept his fingers around the hilt of the knife hidden against his leg, but made no attempt to get up. It would be interesting to see what followed. Because if this was intended to be a murder, then he knew just how he would do it if he was in Ralph’s shoes.





Chapter Six - Where Sophie Plays Cupid


Cal stayed where he was and waited for Ralph to make his move. His cousin stood there, silent, cradling bruised knuckles and breathing heavily, then reached out a hand.

Here we go. Haul me to my feet while I’m still groggy, swing me round and one hard shove against the edge of the fireplace and there goes my skull. A terrible accident while we were fighting over a woman. You only meant to hit me, never to kill me, but…

‘Get up, for God’s sake.’ Ralph bent, clasped Cal’s uninjured arm and heaved. Cal came up, apparently off-balance, the knife still by his side, waiting, waiting… as his cousin gave him an ungentle shove into the big chair behind the desk. ‘I didn’t hit you that hard.’

‘Hard enough.’ Cal slid the knife back into his boot and cradled his right arm against his side. ‘Hit my bad shoulder on the door.’

‘Well you should not have been out driving a lady with it if it is that bad,’ Ralph snapped. ‘You should be resting.’

‘I have spent too much of my life in bed, resting.’

His cousin shot him a look, as though not certain whether there was a double entendre in the statement. ‘What are your intentions towards Miss Wilmott?’

Cal sat up straighter and put both hands on the desk. Ralph, on the far side, shifted uncomfortably, put into the subordinate position. ‘Are you betrothed to Miss Wilmott or have any kind of understanding with her?’

‘No.’ His cousin set his jaw, the embarrassed, angry colour coming up in unflattering blotches over his cheeks.

‘Nor are you any relative of the lady. As far as I am aware, and I took pains to find out, Miss Wilmott is unattached. So, by what right are you asking my intentions? Or punching me in the jaw in my own house, come to that.’

‘I am courting her. I have been for weeks.’

‘Not according to Miss Wilmott who is, it seems, rather confused by your intentions, given your lack of ardour.’

‘My what?’ Both of Ralph’s fists thudded down on the desk and three pens fell off the standish with a clatter. ‘What the devil has she been saying?’

‘Nothing at all to the matter. However, if you have been courting her for weeks and she is unaware of the fact, then I would suggest that a certain passion might be lacking.’

This is the point where he goes for my throat.

Ralph slumped into the chair on the other side of the desk and dragged his fingers through his hair. ‘I thought we were friends. I have never come across a woman I can talk to like that. It’s not that I’m in love with her, but I ought to marry and I was wondering if we would suit.’ He looked far more fraught about it than his words suggested. ‘And then you came along.’

‘And you got an attack of dog-in-the-manger?’ Hell, now he was feeling sympathetic. He should be goading Ralph and yet he could not do it. Damn it, this was the man who had helped him through his first blundering, confusing encounters with girls with cheerfully frank good advice from his own hard-won experience.

‘It doesn’t occur to you that you never had any trouble before with thinking about beautiful, blonde, blue-eyed women in all manner of ways that do not involve friendship and that therefore a friend must be just what Sophie is to you?’