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“I’m going to kill Ingraham.” Captain Warre’s voice was deadly in her ear.
“Shh!” A sick feeling curdled her stomach.
“...knows what the committee will recommend.”
“If somebody marries her, be nothing to recommend. Won’t take away a man’s rightful property. Besides, we’d start another war attainting a Scot’s estate of that size.” His voice grew fainter. They were walking away.
“I’d lay money old Rayford will— Hell, there’s the wife. She’s spotted me. Devil take it, she’s waving me over.” The sounds of the party swallowed their conversation. Katherine stood with her heart pounding and Captain Warre’s fingers biting hotly into the fabric of her gown. Her own fingers dug into his shoulder.
He turned his head, and suddenly she was inches away from those murderous green eyes. “Ingraham is a dead man.”
It struck her that he was the only person here except for Phil who looked at her and saw the woman she had become.
Tell me what else to do. How to convince them.
“They can’t possibly believe I would consider marriage,” she managed harshly, hoping he wouldn’t hear the fear in her voice.
“Not to the likes of Ingraham.”
“To anybody.”
He cursed under his breath. “Katherine, surely you realize—” His eyes met hers, those eyes that were green like the Mediterranean on a stormy day. They flicked to her mouth. Darkened.
“Realize what?” His sword handle pressed into her, jabbing through her stays. Beneath her fingers, his shoulder felt like rock.
“That it may become inevitable.”
Her hands tightened on him. “It can’t.”
“Katherine—” Whatever he’d been going to say died on his lips. He touched his mouth to hers, and she was lost.
She opened her lips and tasted fire. Touched his face and wanted to melt into him. He turned her in his arms, and already she felt him losing control again.
Oh, God. They couldn’t do this here.
Voices. More people were coming.
But she couldn’t stop touching him. His face, his neck, his shoulders. She clung to him as if she were drowning, lost herself in the taste of him and the strength of his arms around her.
No. They couldn’t—
Voices!
She tore herself away, but not soon enough. Holliswell and a lady had already stepped into the arbor, laughing. He stopped short when he saw them, and the laughter died on his face.
Damn, damn, damn.
Captain Warre took a measured step away and offered the slightest bow. “Lovely evening.”
Holliswell returned the bow while his calculating gaze shifted from her to Captain Warre. “Your lordship. Cousin.” His smile was a razor’s edge. “Excellent to see you are enjoying the party.”
Katherine reached deep for an air of disdain and somehow clothed herself with it though everything inside her throbbed and ached from Captain Warre’s kiss. She glanced at Holliswell’s companion and curled her lip ever so slightly. “Likewise, Mr. Holliswell.”
Holliswell’s companion looked aside awkwardly and, when Holliswell stalked away, followed him into the shrubbery.
* * *
FOOL. KATHERINE STORMED up the staircase after the garden party, rubbing her lips with the back of her hand. Fool!
She should have returned to the crowd the moment she realized Captain Warre had followed her. Should never have let him stand there touching her. Should have at least pulled away before he kissed her. Could she have been any more reckless? It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen what he was going to do.
And now—
“Lady Dunscore.”
Katherine’s head came up sharply as she reached the landing. “Why are you still here? You’ve been dismissed—more than once.”
“Miss Germain has left.” Miss Bunsby said shortly, holding out a letter for Katherine to see.
“Left.” Good God. What had Millicent done now? Katherine hurried up the rest of the stairs and snatched the letter from Miss Bunsby’s hand, quickly skimming the contents.
Gone. Home to Bedfordshire to live with her brother Gavin.
Gavin. Millie didn’t even like Gavin.
But Millie was free to make her own choices now. A lump tightened Katherine’s throat. Phil was recapturing her London life, India was languishing in her father’s custody, William was off doing who knew what and now this. The life she’d built with people she loved—people who knew her, who respected her—was as good as gone.
She swallowed, hard, and fixed her gaze on Miss Bunsby. “You will pack your bags this instant and leave my house, or I will have you arrested and we shall see how your impertinence fares in gaol.”
“That is hardly the most efficient course of action under the circumstances.” Below, a footman emerged. “Well?” Miss Bunsby called down.
“Madam. Your ladyship.” He looked from Miss Bunsby to Katherine and back to Miss Bunsby. “I couldn’t find any,” he told her.
“Find what?” Katherine demanded.
“We live in the biggest city in England—perhaps in all the world,” Miss Bunsby called impatiently. “Do not tell me there is nobody who knows how to make kesra.”
“Kesra—” Katherine started.
“Go back out,” Miss Bunsby directed, “and do not return until you find someone.”
The footman’s mouth tightened, but he turned on his heel and left. At that precise moment, Anne’s voice drifted from the pink rooms. “Miss Bunsby? Miss Bunsby, where are you?”
Katherine rushed to her daughter’s room, crouching down to where Anne sat with her mandolin on the floor and cupping Anne’s face in her hands. “Dearest, are you all right?”
“Mama, I don’t like it here. I want to go back to the ship.”
Miss Bunsby frowned worriedly. “She wouldn’t take any food.”
“You know we can’t go back to the ship,” Katherine said into Anne’s hair, and saw the untouched tray at the bedside. “Why have you not eaten?”
“I’m not hungry. Millie went to visit her brother, Mama. I miss her.”
“I know, dearest.”
“And I want kesra.” Anne buried her face against Katherine’s arm. “Mama, I don’t like it here.”
Kesra. Katherine looked at Miss Bunsby. Helplessness gripped her. “You will love Dunscore, sweetling.” I promise. “There will be no awful smells, and the sea shall be the only sound, and we shall eat kesra every day.”
“Will Captain Warre be there?”
Katherine’s heart ached a little at the hope in Anne’s voice. “Captain Warre has much to do now that we’re in London,” she said. “I doubt he has much time for visiting, so you mustn’t expect him to call.”
“But I want him to visit. Will you tell him, Mama? Please?”
“I will tell him.” A few more reassurances later, they finally coaxed her to sleep in peaceful exhaustion.
“I tried to stop Miss Germain from going,” Miss Bunsby said outside the room, “but she wouldn’t listen to me. I can’t say I’m surprised. Two days has been plenty to see she wasn’t happy.”
“Devil take that blasted surgical school,” Katherine said, and refolded the note.
“Is it truly impossible for her to attend?”
“If I believed otherwise, I would have helped her do it.” But Millie would try, anyway. There was little doubt of that. She might stay with her brother for a while, but then she would find her way back to Malta. What then? Any number of unpleasant answers flitted through Katherine’s mind. At the same time, she felt Miss Bunsby’s eyes on her. Waiting.
Katherine assessed her in return. Strawberry-blond hair in a simple chignon. Too-pretty blue eyes. Slender build. Chin raised a notch too far to suggest submission.
She’d already proved well enough that she did not understand the word. She almost reminded Katherine of India.
“Yesterday Anne asked about our friend William Jaxbury,” Katherine said, teetering on the edge of indecision. “Has there been no word from him this evening?”
“Not one, your ladyship.”
Perhaps Miss Bunsby had proved herself tonight. Just a little. “If he should arrive while I am out,” Katherine said, “he is to be denied nothing.”
Comprehension—satisfaction—settled over Miss Bunsby’s blue eyes, and she smiled.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#ulink_6a63ae5b-abc2-53d3-8c77-8ded0b0bf4dc)
Dear Sirs,
Encouraging lack of maritime activity at Lady Carroll’s. Reflecting pool perhaps too small a body of water. Lady Dunscore unused to land operations; likely impeded by presence of shrubbery. No gentleman engaged.
In your humble service,
Croston
“CHANGED? WHY SHOULD my cousin’s arrival have changed anything?” A blustering, early morning wind outside Westminster Hall might have threatened to take Holliswell’s peruke with it if the carefully rolled hair hadn’t been petrified with grease, and Nick would have watched with satisfaction as it rolled down the street like a ball across a lawn. “Katherine’s arrival only makes the situation more pressing,” Holliswell went on in an offensively mild tone, “especially considering the circumstances.”
The circumstances. That, of course, referred to James’s miraculous return. Nick’s throat tightened, but he quickly gained the upper hand of his emotions. “The story of my brother’s rescue is already on the lips of every porter and match-seller in London,” he said flatly, “and I doubt if there is a drawing room in all of London that doesn’t echo with the retelling as we speak. If the Lords decide she’s a heroine, the Virgin Mary herself won’t be able to convince them to pass that bill.”
Holliswell’s lips, chapped and pale, curved coldly. “The question will be put this afternoon, will it not?”
“Yes.”
“Then let us hope the second reading is approved.” He paused. “Lord Adkins has expressed an interest in Clarissa. I’m not sure they should suit, but then, what girl couldn’t suit herself to a viscount?”
Adkins.
Nick’s vision hazed over. Just last year Adkins had hosted practically the entire ton at a masquerade in celebration of his sixtieth birthday, but the real celebration had taken place a week later at Adkins’s country estate, where rumor had it the entertainment had included prostitutes playing a unique version of croquet.
His hands ached with the need to curl around Holliswell’s lapels and slam the man against the lamppost behind him. Instead, he tightened his lips. “Only the daughter of an earl, I would imagine.”
“I’m not sure I like what you’re suggesting, Taggart.”
“I think you like it a great deal.” It was no stretch of the imagination to think that once Holliswell had the title he coveted, he might decide his daughter could make a more advantageous match than either himself or Adkins—although how a marriage to Adkins could be considered advantageous for Clarissa was beyond comprehension.
“I can’t imagine the cause is lost,” Holliswell said. “There is plenty about Katherine to exploit. You know that as well as I do. God knows how many Moors she’s taken between her legs, and I hear she’s got a half-Moor whelp as proof. She can’t possibly imagine society will accept her this way. In fact, having her here may work to your advantage in gathering more votes.”
For God’s sake, Nick didn’t want to exploit anyone. He just wanted this bloody business over with. “If you believe that, you’re delusional. I’ve already heard of half a dozen men lining up to propose marriage.”
“Marriage.” Holliswell’s eyes narrowed, and Nick watched him consider how quickly such a turn of events could change everything. “It would have to be someone powerful enough that the Lords would not possibly consider divesting him of his newly acquired assets. She’ll not find anyone of that stature desperate enough to take on such a baggage.”
“Perhaps,” Nick said. “And perhaps not. I’ve heard she made a successful debut at Deal’s and again last night at Lady Carroll’s. She may find someone yet.”
“A successful debut indeed—with your brother, in the shadows of the shrubbery.”
“Watch what you’re implying, Holliswell.”
“I witnessed their intimacy with my own eyes,” he sneered.
It was a lie. Wasn’t it? “It’s nothing to me if he’s tupping her,” Nick said, though it was hardly the truth. If she was more to James than just a welcoming commodity—if James got it in mind to marry her—then this damned business with Holliswell would be for nothing.
“Isn’t it?” Holliswell said meanly. “If that’s the way the wind blows, you’ve got a bigger job ahead of you than either of us expected.”
He felt a little sick, both at the idea of Katherine Kinloch becoming connected to Croston and the prospect of working against James. It grated hard to go against his older brother, especially after believing him lost. From what he’d heard, James had been publicly acknowledging her as his savior. Much more of that, and the bill’s cause would be lost anyhow.
“I will do what I can,” Nick bit out. “But I fear the tide will soon turn, and no effort to stop it will be successful.” Especially if James was tupping her. But if the choice was Clarissa’s future or Katherine Kinloch’s, he would do what had to be done.
He reminded himself that such a woman had no business acceding to a title in her own right. But for chrissake, he was starting to wish he wasn’t the one leading the charge to strip it from her.
* * *
THE INVITATIONS BEGAN to arrive before Katherine got out of bed. By the time she was ready to dress, there were twelve.
Winston. Hardly a surprise.
Werrick. Cashen. Naturally.
