His not-so-subtle mention that he expected to inherit ignited her anger and made her disregard caution. How dare he come to her house, to Harold’s house, with those self-important airs and imply that the duke was soon to die!
“My husband is the head of the family, and God willing will be for many years to come. He is cognizant of my whereabouts and perfectly at ease with the way I conduct myself.”
Her haughty expression made his own amiable mask slip. For a moment, the malevolence in his eyes was visible. Then he blinked and tried to resume the pretense of congeniality. But without quite managing to.
“Be that as it may, Duchess, I have it on good authority that my uncle is very ill and not expected to survive much longer.”
“Those are baseless, despicable rumors,” she parried, her fists clenching with the effort to contain her fury.
“Is that so?” He smirked with the venom of a snake. “Time will tell. And time is running out for him, regardless. He is old and bound to die before me. And then I’ll be the duke and head of the family. So you see, my dear aunt, it is only a matter of time.”
“You are just the heir presumptive, Mr. Blackwell. As long as my husband lives, there’s the possibility of an heir of his own body.”
That was true, in a way. A child of Gabriel’s would be, by extension, a child of her husband’s body.
The insulting smirk disappeared from Neil Blackwell’s face, to be replaced by the very real antipathy he could barely conceal.
“Yet you have been married for how long now? Fifteen years? And never conceived. After all this time, I think it’s safe to say that either you are barren, or my uncle is incapable.”
“How dare you! That is none of your business, but for your information, a child is very much possible. In fact, although it’s too soon to be sure, I have reason to believe I am with child.”
His eyes widened, dropping to her waist. A corner of his lip curled in disgust, and his chin quivered. If looks could kill, she would be a dead woman.
“Oh, but it is my business, Duchess. The dukedom is my business. I’m the rightful heir, and no one will deny me what is mine.”
“Leave,” she bit out, shaking with fury. “Leave now and don’t come back. I’m not receiving callers.”
With a mocking bow, he exited the room, a scornful smirk on his face. She sank onto a sofa. Oh, how she wished she could just get rid of this loathsome snake. But she was afraid she had just provoked him and thrown him on the trail.
CHAPTER 19
ENSCONCED WITHIN Ahackney he had hired, Gabriel watched as Hannah descended from her coach aided by a footman at ten in the morning the next day. She then turned and spoke to the coachman, who rode off after watching her enter a modiste establishment on Oxford Street.
He waited a couple of minutes and descended from the hackney. Giving the driver instructions to wait, he approached the door of the establishment Hannah had entered. She came out at once, but no smile of greeting lit her face. Adjusting the hat veil over her face and looking every which way, like a hounded hare, she whispered without looking at him.
“Where’s your coach?”
Wordlessly, he pointed to the carriage, and she marched towards it. His long steps kept pace with her shorter, hurried ones, and he opened the door for her to enter. With one last nervous look around, she got into the hackney. He took the seat beside hers and waited for her to settle.
Once inside the relative privacy of the vehicle, she seemed to relax slightly. The carriage took off, weaving through the morning traffic, and she at last lifted her veil. The impact of her anxious gaze was like a punch to his stomach. He had been so looking forward to this outing. All of yesterday he had spent wishing morning would arrive. Waiting for the moment when he would see her again. But something was wrong. Something troubled her, and it was more than her usual unease with this bargain.
“Is everything all right?” he queried, unable to wait a moment longer.
“I... yes. Maybe. I don’t know.”
He took her hand, noting the iciness of it even through her leather gloves. With a look in her direction, he undid the two buttons that secured the glove at her wrist and peeled off the leather. Then he repeated his actions with the other hand until he could envelop her chilled hands in his warmer ones.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“My husband’s nephew, Mr. Blackwell, came to visit me yesterday. He was waiting in the house when I came back from the ride.”
His jaw clenched, but he struggled to keep his expression neutral. “What did he want?” he bit out, although he suspected the tone of the conversation to have upset her so.
“He offered to escort me about. When I refused, he made insinuations that soon dissolved into thinly veiled threats. He mentioned Harold was about to die and that he would be the duke soon.”
“The arse. I’ll deal with him—”
“No!” Her vehement protest cut him up short. “Don’t you see? If you say something, he will suspect there’s something between us. We can’t let him catch even the slightest hint of impropriety.”
