Pockets mewed. Clara kept her expression calm, slowly placing her hand on the kitten’s body. The duke looked around, puzzled, but Clara did not give him time to think. “Your mother seemed quite fond of Clementina.”
“Too affectionate. That dog is blind, sick, and inconti—” He bit off the word, apparently realizing its impropriety. He glanced at Radcliff, then back to Clara. “It should be put out of its misery—and ours.”
“Then let us hope you will not become as such as you age.”
Radcliff choked.
The duke stared at her. “I am not an animal.”
I beg to differ.Clara cleared her throat. “I am looking forward to Thursday’s soiree as well as Friday’s ball. I will go tomorrow for one final fitting on the gown for the soiree. I think you will be pleased.”
The duke shifted and a sly smile crossed his face. “I am sure I will be. Your modiste has done admirable work so far. But I am afraid there has been a change of plans. I will not be at Friday night’s ball.”
That was news. Clara squirmed a bit, trying to avoid tiny claws. “Has something come up to interfere? I thought you were quite determined to make all the events on your list.”
The smile widened into a grin. “Oh yes. I have been challenged to a match race by the Duke of Kennet. It will take place at Epsom Downs on Saturday. I am sending the horse down on Thursday to give it time to rest. I will follow on Friday.” The glee in his voice was almost evil, making Clara shiver. “I look forward to taking them for the entire purse and their horse.”
Clara could not accept his words. “The Duke of Kennet... theDuke—”
“Oh, yes. Philip Ashton himself. Apparently his rakehell sons are trying to start a gambling business for horse racing so that the aristocracy will not have to be so public with their wagers. Facilitated through Campion’s Emporium. When I win, it will destroy their efforts and clear my debts—” He tapped his cane on the floor, apparently annoyed he had let that part out of the bag.
Disgusted, Clara sniffed. “You need not be so discreet with me, Your Grace. I know all about your debts and your association with various gambling hells around the city.”
Wykeham’s eyes narrowed, half-lidded. “You do not.”
“You are a member of theton, Your Grace, which trades in gossip the way bankers trade in stocks. Do not be naïve. Perhaps there is some value in this business idea of theirs after all.”
His words were almost a growl. “No one has ever referred to me as naïve.”
“Then do not assume I am, just because I am younger and a woman.”
“Michael Ashton told you these things. He lies.”
“He did not. As you have said to me so pointedly, gentlemen conduct business at society events. Women talk, mostly about men and their affairs.”
“Gossip. No one could know—”
A thin wail split the air. Clara shot to her feet, as did Radcliff and the duke. She fumbled at her side, drawing Pockets free of the cloth and cuddling the kitten against her stomach. The tiny animal looked wild-eyed, panting as her front paws curled around Clara’s fingers.
“What the devil is that?”
“My kitten. Pockets.”
“She was in your dress!”
“Yes. I was taking her to the garden, but you had turned up far too early, and I had no choice.”
“But she wasinyour dress!”
“That’s because she stays there a lot. I have pockets. I carry kittens and rocks and flowers and other things I find in the garden or the fields. Unlike some people, I do not spend my days sitting by the fire poking a needle into things. I hunt and I ride, and I will love having Skye Terriers around my feet all winter long.”
The duke’s hands trembled. “Butler!” he screamed.
Jennings appeared in the doorway, looking as calm as ever. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Wykeham pointed a shaking hand at Clara. “Take that blasted creature out of here!”
Jennings looked puzzled. “Lady Clara?”
