Page 5 of Love, the Duke
CHAPTER2
MAN’S PRACTICAL GUIDE TO APPREHENDING A THIEF
SIR BENTLY ASHTON ULLINGSWICK
Disguise yourself so you won’t be recognized.
Something wasn’t as it should be, and Hurst didn’t like surprises.
More than slightly interested, he leaned back into the chair behind his desk at his London townhome and regarded with one sardonically raised brow the woman who had entered the book room of his home.
He was immediately taken with her, and it had nothing to do with her face; she presented herself as a man, but instinctively Hurst knew the person who had insisted upon seeing him about an urgent matter this night was female. No matter how superb her disguise.
The black summer wool coat had been generously padded to cover slim shoulders. A moderately starched neckcloth, elegantly knotted, contrasted beautifully against a red quilted waistcoat seamed with shiny brass buttons. She wore dark trousers that he was certain had been made to fit her tall, slender frame and not hastily altered for her. Well-heeled and highly polished riding boots added to her striking figure and poise. Even the masculine-shaped wig, dark as a raven’s back, that concealed her hair was handsomely styled and becoming.
Yet, expert tailoring, and a dusting of face powder over a slight brush of kohl intended to mimic a shadow of beard, couldn’t obscure the natural pink tint of her lips or hide the deep stirring beauty of delicate-looking, parchment-pale skin. Her arched brows had been darkened to match the wig, but that didn’t matter. Her shapely, rosebud mouth simply couldn’t belong to a man.
Someone had gone to great lengths wanting to dupe him. But who was she, and why was she there?
Hurst slowly rose from the chair as his butler left the room, closing the door behind him. He’d known of women dressing as a male to gain entrance into a gentlemen’s club or private gambling party for a variety of different reasons, including only to satisfy their curiosity about such establishments. Never had he heard of one doing so to enter the sanctity of a man’s home. That took nerves of iron, and he was rather impressed by her gumption.
Keeping his gaze squarely on his guest’s vibrant blue eyes, Hurst asked in a questioning tone, “What can I do for you, Mr.—what was your name again?”
She didn’t immediately respond, appearing indecisive. He had the feeling she struggled with how to best proceed now that she was standing in front of him. Cautiously, she glanced around the room, as if to ascertain there was no one else lurking about. With sharp inquisitiveness, she gave the brown damask draperies, overly crowded bookshelves, and aged painting of his great-grandfather that hung over the fireplace a quick perusal before facing Hurst again.
Now that she was here, whatever it was she wanted, she was suddenly reluctant to voice it. He was in no hurry. He’d give her all the time she needed.
After a long breath and with an air of resolution,she seemed to make a decision, then settle herself. Her shoulders loosened, and she took a few confident steps toward him before pausing. In a serene voice, she said, “Warcliff is the name I gave to your butler, but that doesn’t matter now, Your Grace. You see, I am not a man.”
Having expected her to deny the obvious, he was surprised and quite intrigued by her immediate response of honesty as well as her daring. One thing was sure: If a man was inclined to disguise himself for any reason, Hurst was quite sure he’d never do so as a woman. He wasn’t one to care much for intrigue or drama, but her approach and his reaction to her was too remarkable not to let this play out.
“Go on,” he encouraged, without equivocating as he moved around to the side of his desk.
“I’m Ophelia Stowe.”
Shock jolted through Hurst and shuddered every bone in his body. He forced himself not to physically react too strongly to her astounding revelation. She was the sister Winston had asked him to marry weeks ago. What the devil was she doing in his home? Dressed as a man. And hadn’t his childhood friend said she had a gentle soul? That certainly didn’t fit with the boldness of the lady standing before him now.
“I’m glad you agreed to see me, and sorry I had to use such an elaborate masquerade,” she offered, taking another step farther into the room.
“Wait.” He held up both hands to stop her forward movement while he digested who she was. If she still had hopes he’d marry her, this wasn’t the way to go about looking into that possibility. “First, I didn’t agree to see you. I agreed to see a man. Second, why would you thinkyou required such detailed means to hide who you are in order to talk to me?”
“I need to speak with you privately, and this was the only way I could think to assure my anonymity.” She blinked rapidly a few times. “I wasn’t sure you would agree to meet me.”
Did she consider him an ogre? “Why wouldn’t I see you?” he asked, his commanding voice clipped.
Her shoulders stiffened once again. “Perhaps you have forgotten, sir, but you rebuffed my dear brother’s appeal without so much as a how do you do and wouldn’t even consider the possibility of marrying me. Not that I would have agreed to it anyway either. You didn’t even keep your word and come visit him as you promised in your short response. I think it improbable that a duke such as yourself would make the time to see a lowly vicar’s sister.”
What kind of poppycock was she saying? No one in Winston’s family was of lowly birth.
Maybe she did think of him as an ogre. And maybe he was. It took a lot to raise ire in Hurst, but Miss Stowe’s forthright manner was on a fast racehorse track to do so, whether she knew it or not.
When he returned to London, estate and business matters stood in the way of traveling to see Winston.
The problems were urgent at the time, and frankly still troublesome. Hurst had come home from his aunt’s house to find that his largest and most fertile farmlands had been flooded and frozen most of the winter and early spring rains caused a destructive mold on the already-boggy area. Valuable crops couldn’t be planted for fear the blight on the acreage would spread to neighboring properties and farther. Wanting to be knowledgeable concerning all the issues, Hurst worked alongside his managers,tenants, and specialists to find treatments that would eradicate the mold so the land would be fertile again. Even now they waited to see if the diseased parcels would recover and flourish once again.
Hurst couldn’t expect a sheltered young lady to understand the intricacies of such difficulties, and he’d be damned before he’d offer an explanation to counter her unveiled accusation against his honor.
He set a determined stare on her lovely face, and then folding his arms across his chest he strengthened his stance to match hers. He’d also returned from his aunt’s, and the round of parties she took him to, believing he needed to stop thinking that he should wait until he found the right lady for him before he married. He wasn’t getting any younger and needed an heir. But now, looking at Miss Stowe and feeling the growing interest in her, he knew he ought to wait for the right young lady and not settle until he had.
