Never a Gentleman by Eileen Dreyer Page A

the window, will you?”
    Seated by the fire, Grace smiled. “I’d only succeed in breaking my legs. No fun in that.”
    “Good girl.”
    Lifting her gown, Kate skipped downstairs. She had tosee Diccan. She needed him to convince her that everything would be all right. It was Kate’s opinion that Grace had already
     been through too much. Her father had only been dead for two months. Her celebrated connections were all distant, which left
     her with no real family. Kate decided it was up to her to take on the job.
    She was so focused on seeing Diccan, she actually forgot who had accompanied him. She had just reached the front hallway and
     was making for the front door, when she heard a step behind her.
    “So, you’re still here,” she heard.
    The hair lifted on the back of her neck. Her stomach clenched with dread.
Why hadn’t she anticipated this?
    “If you wish to say something, Harry,” she said, turning to the tall, sandy-haired Rifleman who frowned at her, “say it. Otherwise
     I’d be happy to pretend we’d never met.”
    “I would, too,” he told her, his sky-blue eyes as cold as midnight. “But it seems we’re going to be thrown together, at least
     for today. Grace has only one chance to come out of this business intact. I’m here to make sure you don’t ruin it. The poor
     girl has been through enough.”
    Well, if he’d wanted to outrage Kate, he’d done it. Pulling herself to her full height of almost five feet one inch, she gave
     her childhood friend the most glacial glare in her repertoire. “She has?” she asked. “Really? I didn’t know. She must have
     forgotten to mention it to me during the three months she’s lived with me. Especially that day we traveled the twenty-five
     miles down to Waterloo to bury her father.” She tilted her head, the picture of bemusement. “But then, I didn’t see you there.
     I didn’t see you the entire time we were in Brussels, or when we came home to London. You can imagine my confusion that you
     know so intimately what she’s been through.”
    She managed to strike him speechless. His handsomely rugged face went scarlet, and his fierce blue eyes narrowed. Oh, she’d
     loved those eyes once. Once a very long time ago.
    Finally, he snapped off a perfect bow. “Of course Her Grace must be correct in all things.”
    “How good of you to realize it.”
    He said not another word, just stalked off, his boots ringing on the hardwood floor. Kate was left breathless and shaking.
     Damn him.
Damn
him. How could he goad her into bad manners? How did he always succeed in making her feel a failure?
    Thank heavens it was Diccan who saw her first, because Kate knew she was red-faced and rigid. He didn’t say a word, just slipped
     his arm through hers and walked her back out the front door.
    “You continue to amaze me, brat,” he told her, leading her down the narrow cobbled street. “I can’t remember ever seeing Harry
     Lidge that color. And I’ve seen him atop everything from whores to cavalry horses.”
    “Shut up, Diccan.”
    His grin was unabashed. “Didn’t he grow up near the Castle?”
    She sighed and looked up to where the morning sky beyond the half-timbered houses reminded her of a certain pair of eyes.
     “His father was squire. He and my father enjoyed playing chess.”
    Diccan laughed, shaking his head. “A sad want of consequence for a duke. No wonder my father thinks he should have been the
     heir instead. He says hello, by the way.”
    Kate swung around, stunned. “Your father? He’s here?”
    “Oh, yes. Simply seething with righteous indignation.Delighted to his toes that I have once again proven his low opinion of me.”
    “He’s a sapskull. And he never sent me greetings. He loathes me even more than he does you.”
    Diccan lifted her hand and kissed it. “We are a pair of reprobates, aren’t we?”
    Taking a long moment to study Diccan’s saturnine features, Kate found herself furious for him. “It’s not fair,”