CHAPTER 18

"YOU HAVE A VISITOR waiting for you in the drawing room, Your Grace."

Hannah frowned, handing her riding gloves, hat, and coat to the butler. It was still too early for formal calling hours. Besides, she had been in London less than two days and had not called on anyone nor invited anyone to call.

"Who is it, Graves?"

"Mr. Blackwell, Your Grace."

She froze, her frown turning into a glower as dread knotted her stomach. What could the despicable bounder want with her? How did he even know she was in London?

"I'll see him now. Send two footmen to stand by."

With that order, she marched towards the drawing room doors.

"Should I send refreshments, Your Grace?" the butler inquired neutrally.

"No. He won't stay long enough to enjoy them."

With that, she opened the door to the drawing room to find Neil Blackwell standing by the window. The window that faced the street. He would have been able to see her ride in. Had he seen Gabriel say his goodbyes in the corner? She took a deep breath. It didn't matter. Even if he had seen Gabriel, there had been no impropriety between them.

"Mr. Blackwell," she greeted him with a slight inclination of the head.

"My dear aunt!" The blackguard came to her with an ingratiating smile, as fake as the diamond in his necktie pin. He bowed and stretched his hand. "Let us not stand in ceremony, shall we? After all, we are family."

Manners dictated she put her hand in his and subjected herself to his kiss. Even if her skin crawled. She had never been able to understand her extreme dislike of this man. He was handsome enough and could pass as charming, if one didn't know his true nature. But even before she did, she had felt uneasy in his presence. It was the reason she had preferred to marry Harold than his nephew, despite the duke being a much older gentleman.

She could even see a slight family resemblance between him and Gabriel, now that she knew of the blood connection. They had the same tall frame and broad shoulders, the same dark hair and masculine facial features. But while Gabriel made her burn from within with desire, this man only made her squirm with disgust.

"Nephew," she bit out, fighting for control of her reactions. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" She almost choked on the falsehood, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had discomfited her.

"I was just passing by and noticed the house was open. Is my dear uncle at home? I would love to visit with him. I haven't seen him in such a long time."

The snake. Now she would have to confess that she had traveled to London by herself.

"He is not here. He decided to stay in the country as there are estate matters to oversee, and my visit to town will be brief."

"Oh? How... unusual." His innuendo was unmistakable. "I'm sure there must be extraordinary circumstances that obligated you to travel on your own. Is my uncle's health so very delicate, then? I had hoped the information wasn't true."

Liar. If he'd had his druthers, Harold would have died years ago. There was no love lost between them, and for him to pretend otherwise in her presence was insulting.

"The duke is in perfect health," she lied. "Like I said, he stayed behind because there were estate matters to oversee, and my trip would be short."

"Well, permit me to offer you my escort while you are in town. As his closest relative, and heir, I feel it's my duty to look after you in his absence."

Oh, no. The last thing she wanted was to have him underfoot. That would be disastrous for her plans with Gabriel. She had to force her lips into a semblance of a smile.

"That won't be necessary, nephew ." She emphasized the last word. Reminding him of their places. "I wouldn't dream of imposing on your time. A footman can provide more than adequate protection."

"Ah, but a footman could never be an adequate escort. Take now, for example. I just saw you ride in alone. My heart seized imagining the perils that may befall you, a delicate woman, alone on the streets of London. I could never sleep at ease because of the worry."

The unmitigated bastard. He didn't give a fig about her or her safety. He only wanted to insert himself into her business. She could not allow it.

"I insist it is unnecessary. But rest assured that if I need your escort anywhere, I will let you know."

"But as your husband's closest relative, and soon-to-be head of the family—"

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.