Page 16 of Kathryn

“She’s out of town, my lady.”

Katie was relieved to hear it. She liked Stacia Derrick a great deal, but it would be uncomfortable enough getting the information she wanted out of Andrew without having an audience.

She gave Becky her gloves, “I won’t be long. I know the way to the study,” she told the footman.

The young man eyed Becky with obvious interest. “I can put the kettle on down in the kitchen.”

Becky gave him a repressive smile. “I will wait in the parlor, thank you.”

Katie bit back a smirk at the footman’s obvious disappointment and hurried up the stairs.

Andrew wasn’t in his study, but Katie had a good idea where he might be and took the stairs to the top floor. Outside the nursery, a young maid lolled in a chair beside the door. She leapt to her feet when she saw Katie. “Good evening, my lady.”

Katie smiled. “He is in there, I presume?”

The maid giggled. “I have never seen a man who loves his children so much.”

“You should meet my other brothers-in-law,” Katie muttered. “I cannot believe he makes you sit out here and wait.”

“Oh, no, my lady. He told me to go have supper earlier. When I came back I didn’t want to interrupt him in case he’d got Miss Cordelia off to sleep. She is teething and miserable. The master is the only one who can stop her crying, poor mite.

Andrew Derrick had a way with females of all ages.

Katie quietly opened the door to the dimly lighted nursery.

“Katie!” Andrew cried loudly, smiling as he stood up from the chair where he’d been rocking his daughter. His bright blue eyes flickered over her ballgown, and he raised his eyebrows.

Katie ignored the question in his gaze and said, “I hope I didn’t wake the baby.”

“Miss Cordy wasn’t sleeping, was she?” he asked the infant in a silly voice. “Nooooo, she wasn’t,” he crooned. “She’s a night owl just like her papa.” He kissed Cordelia’s nose and the baby gurgled happily. His eyes went ridiculously round, and the stupidest look Katie had ever seen settled on his gorgeous face. “Who loves Papa best, hmm? Who is Papa’s darling?”

Katie rolled her eyes, but then Cordelia gave a joyous shriek of laughter and she could understand Andrew’s urge to elicit that magical sound.

“She’s getting sleepy,” he said in the same silly voice, gently rocking the baby as he walked the expanse of the room. “If you give me just a few minutes…”

“Take all the time you need,” Katie said. She sank into one of the comfortable chairs and watched as one of the most infamous rakes in England patiently carried his daughter back and forth and back and forth, whispering to her and kissing her and rocking her until she finally drifted off to sleep. And then he tiptoed to the cradle and gently laid her inside it. He covered her to her chin, took one last look, and then motioned to Katie to follow him.

Outside in the corridor, the nursery maid stood when she saw her employer. “You can go in now, Mary. Ring for me if she wakes again and is fussy.”

“Of course, sir.” The young woman gave Andrew the same fatuous look that every female did, from eight to eighty.

“So,” Andrew said as he led Katie to his study, shut the door, and gestured to a chair. “What are you doing running around dressed to the nines at this hour of the night? I hope you brought your maid with you, or Chatham will scold me.”

“Yes, yes, yes—of course I brought my maid.” Katie flopped into a chair and then winced and reached beneath her. She snorted when she pulled out a baby’s rattle and set it on the table next to her. “What do you know about the Duke of Dulverton?”

Andrew gave her a startled look and then barked a laugh. “You mean the Duke of Dullness?”

Katie frowned. Dullness? Good God! The man had not been dull. Rude? Certainly. Arrogant? Undeniably. But dull? The memory of that scorching kiss and the duke’s hard, hot length thrusting against her belly slammed into her like a wall of heat. Katie resisted the urge to fan herself.

No. Not dull.

Katie saw that Andrew was looking at her oddly and realized he was waiting for a response.

She hastily smothered her heated recollections and sneered. “Oh, I see. Dull-verton. How very clever and droll, Andrew. Are you ten years old?”

“Trust me, the man did not get the name just because it was alliterative; Dulverton is dull. The name might have been coined at Eton, but His Grace has only grown into it more fully in the years since.” He sat back in his chair and propped his feet on the corner of his desk. “Why the devil are you here”—he twisted to look at the longcase clock— “at half past two in the morning asking about the Duke of Dullness of all people?”

Katie ignored his question. “Is there something wrong with him? I mean, other than your claim that he is dull.”