"What is this all about, Your Grace?"
He steepled his fingers in front of him. "First, and I do not seek to be impertinent, Mrs. Mallory, but have you never wondered why a man like Bainbridge, a Corinthian who moves in the first circles in London, would show an interest in you, a Cit's widow?"
His patronizing tone raised the hairs on the back of Kit's neck. What the deuce was this arrogant man trying to say? She bit back a rather rude reply; she must not let the duke prick her into a display of temper. "He is a rake, my lord. Any woman can guess his intentions."
"Any woman, indeed," he murmured. "So you agree that his attentions to you seem rather… unusual?"
She shifted in her seat. "I do not deny that, Your Grace."
"Then allow me to enlighten you. He pays his attentions to you at my request."
Kit's mouth rounded in shock. "W-what?"
"Just as I said, Mrs. Mallory."
"But-why? You have made your disdain for me perfectly clear, Your Grace. What does Lord Bainbridge have to do with any of this?"
"When my grandmother returned from India, she could talk of nothing else but you. Even now, she spends more time with you than she does with her own great-grandchildren. I ask you-what was I to think? The dowager duchess is getting on in years, and less scrupulous individuals might seek to curry favor with her in the hope of obtaining an inheritance."
"And you thought that I-? That is despicable, sir," she hissed.
He shrugged. "I had no idea who you were, Mrs. Mallory, but I did know of your father, and his reputation was cause enough for alarm."
"And that is why you thought you could buy me off with ten thousand pounds. The apple does not fall far from the tree, is that it?"
"Ten thousand pounds would have made you quite wealthy. I could not credit the fact that you turned me down."
"I had no need of your money, Your Grace," she snapped. "Not then, and not now. Not ever."
"Yes, you are a stubborn creature. When my grandmother announced her intention to bring you here on holiday, I invited Bainbridge here to distract you."
A horrid premonition shot through Kit like a lead ball. Her eyes widened. "You asked him to… to seduce me?"
The duke spread his hands. "I asked him to get to know you, to charm you, to insinuate himself into your confidence."
"And then what?" she demanded.
"I wanted you away from my grandmother, Mrs. Mallory. Since you would not take my money, I asked Bainbridge to seduce you, to transfer the focus of your interest from my grandmother onto him. He intended to set you up most handsomely, then abandon you. And, after having had an illicit, very public affair with her great-nephew, my grandmother would hardly want to have any further contact with you."
Kit began to shake. "This is utterly preposterous. I don't believe you."
"You may ask him for the truth of the matter, if you wish, but I suspect you already know."
Their infamous bargain. Now she understood. It all made sense, in a strange, cruel sort of way. All the charm, all the flattering attentions. He had toyed with her, pretended to go along with her plans for compromise, all the while weaving his spell of seduction around her. The playful banter. The kiss on the hill. Their meeting in the folly. The strawberries…
"Why are you telling me this?" She swallowed against a sudden swell of nausea.
The duke pursed his lips. "For two reasons. First, I now perceive that I was mistaken. Your reaction to my grandmother's fall told me that you hold genuine affection for her, despite the fact that you share no blood connection. I am a proud man, Mrs. Mallory, but I know enough to admit when I am in the wrong."
Kit rose, her entire body trembling. "Do you mean to tell me that after all this, after bribing me, insulting me, and planning to ruin my life, you have had a sudden attack of conscience?"
His cold gray eyes seemed to look right through her. "Call it what you will."
"And your campaign to induce Her Grace to retire to the dower house? Was that part of your plan, as well?"
The duke did not flinch from her withering scorn. "No. But after this accident, I do not know if my grandmother will be capable of prolonged travel. The dower house may hold more appeal for her."
"I see. Very neat. And the second reason?"
"I fear my cousin still intends to follow through with his plan."
A cold void opened in the pit of her stomach. "What do you mean?"
"Even a connoisseur of beauty grows jaded over time, and seeks more… unusual avenues of diversion. Lord Bainbridge thinks you the antidote to his ennui, Mrs. Mallory, and will use you to amuse himself, no matter what the consequences."
"You seem very sure of this, Your Grace."
"I know my cousin."
She tasted bile at the back of her throat. "I see. Is there anything else you care to tell me?"
"Only that I owe you an apology." Placing his hands on the desk, he slowly climbed to his feet.
"An apology?" A low, hollow laugh echoed from her throat. "You astound me, Your Grace. After all you have done, I would not have thought you capable of any such thing."
"You have it nonetheless. What more do you want?"
What did she want? She wanted to wake up from this nightmare! The situation, however, called for a more practical and immediate solution. Her lips thinned. "I wish to leave Broadwell Manor. Leave, and never have the misfortune to cross paths with you again."
A strange, enigmatic smile crossed the duke's thin features. "What about my grandmother?"
"Dr. Knowles is confident of the dowager's recovery," Kit stated. "I leave knowing she is in competent hands."
"But she will be most disappointed that you did not stay."
Kit clenched her trembling hands in the folds of her skirt. "You cannot expect to abuse me so thoroughly, Your Grace, and wish me to remain under your roof. Despite any disappointment Her Grace might feel, I am certain she will understand. I shall leave a note for her that explains the circumstances behind my departure."
"There is no need," the duke said quickly, coming out from behind his desk. "I shall tell her myself, if it will spare you any pain."
Kit put the full force of her loathing behind her stare. "Do you fear any lack of discretion on my part, Your Grace, or is it that you know how your grandmother will react to your intrigues? You cannot keep the tale from her for long; she is more intelligent than you give her credit for. She will discover the truth eventually, even if I do not reveal it to her."
The duke responded with a raised eyebrow. "I thought I made it quite clear from the beginning that I expected you to hold our conversation in the strictest confidence."
She bit her lip. "So you did."
"I would never dream of insulting my grandmother's intelligence, but I also do not wish to upset her during her convalescence. I had hoped you would share that sentiment."
"Very well, Your Grace. I will not say anything to her until she has recovered. But I do intend to correspond with her while she is still here. I trust you will not interfere with the delivery of those letters."
His lips twitched. "Certainly not."
"I would like your word on the matter."
Anger flared in his eyes. "I suppose you would try to find a way around me if I did not."
"I may be only a Cit's widow, Your Grace, but I do not hold my honor as cheaply as you seem to hold yours, and I do not think you above reading your grandmother's correspondence."
"Then you have my word, madam."
"Thank you." Kit gripped the back of her chair for support as the room began to waver around her.
"My dear Mrs. Mallory, you look unwell," said the duke, suddenly solicitous. "Should I ring for tea? Or would you prefer something stronger-a glass of sherry, perhaps?"
Kit gritted her teeth. "All I require is the opportunity to depart this house with all due speed."
"You would be better advised to stay the night and start your journey in the morning."