“Well, I’m doing just fine resisting on my own, thank you very much. I do not need to take up hammering nails. May I take my leave?”
“Of course. I will see you at dinner.”
Henry rose and bowed, then took the steps to his bedchamber two at a time. The front window overlooked a small garden. Carlisle Hall was not visible from this vantage point, but for the first time since he’d arrived from Town, perhaps for the first time ever, he felt the pull of the place. Henry hadn’t known his great-grandfather, or his grandfather, for that matter, but the Dukes of Carlisle and their families had been coming to Carlisle Hall for decades. They’d walked the lanes, sat in the arbors,ridden over the gentle hills. They’d laughed and quarreled and watched their children and grandchildren play here.
And in the roll of a dice, Henry had given it all away.
Perhaps he didn’t deserve it. He’d spent very little time here since he’d reached his majority. He’d done nothing to contribute to its upkeep and sold much of the land his great-grandfather bought. But he couldn’t escape the feeling that he owed this place something.
Chapter Seven
Katie sat atthe big desk in the library and thumbed through a ledger she had found in the drawer. The final entry had been made in 1802 on the last page of the book. Presumably, another ledger had been opened, but it had not remained with the house. Or, if it had, she had yet to come across it.
The library was arranged rather haphazardly. She’d seen that sections of the shelves were bare, and now she wondered if those had been valuable books that had been sold to finance Carlisle’s gambling habit. All that was left behind were the dry tomes no one wanted to read.
She looked back at the open page of the ledger and traced the jagged, slanting handwriting. Who had written these words? Who had documented the items purchased or received and their values? She assumed it had been the last Duke of Carlisle, the current duke’s father, or his steward. She rather enjoyed comparing the cost of candles, coal, and muslin twelve years ago to what they were now. She noted an item specifying wood for a fence on one of the tenant farms. Katie thought, ungenerously, that that might have been the last time the master of the house had done any upkeep for his tenants.
She heard a quiet ping and closed the ledger. Another ping caused her to rise and pull the drapes aside. There was the current duke, standing in the dark, throwing pebbles at the window. She had half a mind to close the drapes again and leavehim out there. What would he do then? She probably did not want to find out. He didn’t seem the sort of man who was easily thwarted.
The duke made a gesture indicating she should open the window. With a feeling of foreboding, Katie unlatched it and swung it wide. It felt as though she were opening more than just the window. She stepped back as the duke levered himself onto the ledge and swung his feet inside. With him came a rush of night air and the scent of musky citrus she’d smelled upon encountering him earlier today. She rather liked that scent, especially now that the weather had turned, and it wasn’t accompanied by the scent of damp wool.
Carlisle turned and closed the window, then pulled the drapes. “I wasn’t certain you’d actually be here,” he said, looking at her. His gaze dropped to her hands, which, she noticed, were shaking, and she tucked them into her skirts. Carlisle raised his brows. “Do I make you nervous? Forgive me. Good evening, my lady.” He gave her a stiff bow.
Katie ignored his attempt at pleasantries, even if the aim was to put her at ease. They were not here for a social call. “It’s not a good evening. I thought about ignoring you and locking myself in my bedchamber, but I feared you would come in through the front door.”
“I assumed it would be locked, and whatever you may think of me, I’ve never picked a lock.”
“I don’t think anything of you.” She stepped back, edging toward the desk and wanting to put it between the two of them. He seemed so much taller than she remembered him. His eyes were just lovely, though. They looked a bit darker in the candlelight, but the color—somewhere between blue and green—was spellbinding.
“I doubt that. You had plenty to say to me on the road when I first arrived.”
Katie could hardly believe she had chided him so that day. Now that they were alone, in the middle of the night, she did not feel nearly so brave. Why had she agreed to this meeting? Probably because he had given her little choice. But, she reminded herself, she could always scream if he tried to attack her. There were half a dozen servants sleeping upstairs. They would hear her and come running.
She was behind the desk now, and Carlisle had moved to the other side of it. He ran a hand over the wood. He had a large hand with long fingers and perfectly manicured nails. “This brings back memories,” he said. “I used to sit here and watch my father at work. He was always writing letters or looking through the ledgers. He’d often read the paper to me and my brother before we could do so on our own. Of course, that was when I was younger.” His eyes, which had taken on a faraway look, narrowed. “Before I went to school and became one of his many problems.” He waved a hand. “But let’s not talk of my past. I want to know whyyourfather hates me now. I’ve spent the last several hours stretching my brain to think what I might have done to him or your family. I can think of nothing.”
Good, Katie thought. They would get straight to the point. Then she would never have to see Carlisle again. “I’ll tell you what I know, though it won’t be of any use to you now. As I said earlier, you played right into my father’s hands. It’s a poorly kept secret that he hates the Carlisle name.”
“Unfortunately, this warning comes too late. Not that it would have mattered if I had known of his vendetta. I doubt I would have done anything differently. Your father may be a lot of things, but he is no fool. He saw my weakness and capitalized on it.”
“Your weakness?”
He sighed and raked a hand through his mop of brown hair. She appreciated that his hair was much like her own. The moreone attempted to tame it, the more it resisted. But, unlike her own hair, which turned frizzy when she tried to manage it, his stood up in artful sweeps and curled over his forehead in a rather attractive manner.
“I’m a gambler, Lady Katherine.”
She lowered her gaze from his hair to his face and saw him wince.
“I’ve never been able to resist a wager, and the riskier the better. Apparently, your father is a better gambler.”
She could see the words cost him. The price was in the wince he gave after his admission and the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes. He drummed his fingers on the table and looked everywhere but at her.
“I doubt my father is a better gambler. I’ve never known my father to play at cards or dice, but if he saw it as a way to best you, he would have studied the game and planned how to win.”
“Again, you seem to imply he might cheat.”
“I doubt you’ll ever prove it, but he would not be above it. Not if his target was the Duke of Carlisle.”
“Do you mind if I sit?” Carlisle asked. “I feel a bit dizzy all of a sudden.”
