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The number of invitations might have been a sign of spectacular success, but...
Marston, Obbs, Abnersthwaite. Known for their bad luck at the gaming tables, Phil had said.
Blaine. Nicklesdale. Estates mortgaged to the hilt, Honoria had said.
Robert Prentiss? The greedy-eyed baronet?
And three more whose names she didn’t recognize, but the quality of the paper said everything she needed to know about the state of their finances. Good God. They actually believed she might subjugate herself to them in marriage and put Dunscore at their disposal.
Her maid appeared in the doorway to the bedchamber. “Which gown shall I prepare, your ladyship?”
Katherine tossed the invitations on the dressing table and went to her trunk. The only thing these men wanted more than her in their beds was Dunscore in their coffers.
“None, thank you.” She unlatched the lid and snatched up a pair of her old trousers. “I shall dress myself this morning.”
“Very good, your ladyship.” The maid’s wide-eyed look said she thought it anything but good.
“But I shall want the pale green this afternoon, and the deep blue for tonight,” she added. The deep blue, with its shimmering silk and its revealing cut. Because there was plenty of support yet to be gathered, and she was perfectly capable of exploiting their lust for votes. But marriage? She would see them in hell first.
“Very good, your ladyship.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and left.
This morning, however, she would do as she pleased. The familiar clothing she’d worn aboard the Possession settled around her like a shield, and she smiled at herself in the glass as she slid her cutlass through her sash. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to arrive at Vauxhall tonight dressed like this?
Satisfying, yes. Helpful? Definitely not. Katherine sighed at her reflection.
She grabbed up the invitations and went downstairs to study Papa’s ledgers. By the time dinner was to be served, seventeen had arrived. Dobbs had just delivered the eighteenth invitation when Captain Warre strode into the library.
“His lordship the Earl of Croston to see you,” Dodd said from the doorway, but Captain Warre had already reached the desk, looking windblown and strained, with dark circles beneath his eyes. The mouth that had burned so hotly was set in a grim line.
“Have you heard the news?” he asked.
“What news?” She stood and faced him across the desk, wishing she didn’t remember last night’s kiss quite so well.
“The second reading has passed. The committee meets on Wednesday next.”
Wednesday. “That only gives us six days.”
“Your mathematical skill is far better developed than your sense of fashion.” His gaze raked over her. “For God’s sake, what do you plan to do if you receive a caller—invite them to sit on the floor and smoke a hookah?”
Six days. All the flirtations in the world couldn’t win enough support in six days. Could it?
“I rather thought I might call for tea.” She tossed the stack of invitations in his direction. “It would seem my company is in high demand. But if these are any indication, any callers I receive will be proposing more than conversation. I’ve ordered Dodd to burn any more that arrive.”
At that precise moment, Dodd returned carrying a card on his silver tray. “Lord Ingraham to see you, your ladyship.”
“Ingraham.” Last night’s conversation in the arbor sprang to life. He thought he would marry her and open their marriage bed to the public, did he?
“Please tell him her ladyship is unavailable,” Captain Warre instructed.
“And have him return later?” Katherine scoffed. No. She would deal with this immediately. She strode out from behind the desk and headed for the door. Thirty seconds would be all she needed to take care of Lord Ingraham.
She found him waiting by the door in the entrance hall wearing a ridiculous pale blue coat embroidered with bright yellow leaves. “I am only accepting marriage proposals in writing at this time, Lord Ingraham,” she told him before she was halfway across the hall. “If you’d care to send yours, I shall put it with the rest. Be sure to include the exact amount of your debt, of course.” She stopped directly in front of him. “Oh, yes—and the number of your friends you will expect me to entertain in our marriage bed.” She gave him what she hoped was her most feral smile.
Ingraham’s startled eyes dropped to her feet, paused on her cutlass and shot back to her face. “Good God.”
Behind her, Captain Warre’s tightly bemused voice carried across the hall. “Left you speechless, has she, Ingraham?”
“Croston.” Lord Ingraham looked past her, then back. “Lady Dunscore. I—” He paused, then smiled and bowed. “Certainly not. Not speechless a’tall. Though I can see that you are otherwise occupied, so with your permission, I shall take my leave and return at another time.”
If he returned again, she would run him through before he crossed the threshhold. “You may state your business now, Lord Ingraham, and eliminate the need for a future visit.” Beside her, Captain Warre’s animosity radiated off him like heat off a ship’s deck in summer.
Lord Ingraham’s smile turned brittle. “I see. Well, naturally, my business isn’t pressing. A mere social call. Perhaps you would consider saving me a dance at the Rogersfield ball next week?”
“I will give it my careful consideration.”
“Good day, then, madam. Croston.”
The moment he was gone, Captain Warre turned on her. “He’ll have your eccentricity spread across all of London before noon.”
“And by midnight, my breasts will have them all trailing after me regardless. Or have you forgotten our plans for Vauxhall already?”
“Being hotheaded and impulsive can gain you nothing.”
“Encouraging the notion that I am available to debtors and wastrels can gain me nothing. But forgive me, Captain, if I did not handle Ingraham precisely the way you would have told me.” She returned to the library and resumed her place behind Papa’s desk. “Who are the committee members?”
Captain Warre took up the invitations and leafed through them while he told her the names.
It was no surprise that several names matched those on some of the invitations. “I particularly enjoyed the Duke of Winston’s invitation,” she said. “What a delight to hear he will chair the committee. Do you suppose he’s especially proud of the luxurious cushions in his carriage, or could there be another reason for his efforts to assure me of their comfort?”
Captain Warre’s lips curved like a scratch in ice. “Apparently the man has no care for his particulars.” He paused. “I shall deal with Winston.”
“I can’t imagine how, without giving the impression the only carriage cushions I’ll be experiencing are yours.”
His eyes shot off the page and met hers, blazing. A pulse leaped in the base of her throat, but it was too late to yank the words back.
“Six days is an eternity in the world of the ton,” he told her. “Reputations have been made and broken in less—depending, of course, on one’s behavior.”
“Of course.” The time she’d already spent in London felt like an eternity.
Dodd appeared in the doorway once more with his damnable silver tray. “Your ladyship, Viscount Fenley—”
“Tell Fenley she’s not here!”
Katherine raised a brow at Captain Warre’s explosion. “Yes, Mr. Dodd. Please send him away,” she managed evenly. She could not offend every member of the Lords, no matter how little they cared about offending her. A possessive light glowed at the edges of Captain Warre’s anger, and a little flutter winged through her belly. She ignored it. “Tonight there is Vauxhall. Tomorrow night I shall attend the theater at your sister’s suggestion. I have more than half a mind not to go, as I have the distinct impression she is among those who believe I should take a husband.”
“Which, naturally, you have no intention of doing.”
A thin edge in his tone gave her pause. “Is that a solution you advocate, Captain?”
He tossed the invitations on the desk and exhaled. “I despise the theater. What a debacle this is.”
The nonanswer made her a little sick. “A debacle that could be solved if I marry?” she pressed carefully.
“I’ll not waste time discussing a subject that has no grounding in reality. I am well aware that you will see Holliswell seated at the head of Dunscore’s table before you will tie yourself down in marriage to keep it.”
His words hit their mark, and a cold, awful chill snaked its way across her skin. She thought of Mr. Allen, father’s solicitor, and made herself voice the unthinkable. “Could it be possible that marriage is the only solution?”
“There is never an ‘only’ solution. I shall be at Westminster again today taking up your cause. Let us hope I meet with receptive minds.”
He looked exhausted, frustrated and patently unenthusiastic. He didn’t want to go to Westminster—she could see that much. But he would go because of his guilt.
“I appreciate your efforts,” she told him, catching herself—and him—by surprise.
He looked at her a moment, then turned away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t like that the committee will meet so soon.”
“What could it mean?”
“Anything.”
Please keep trying, she almost said. But Captain Warre had seen enough of her vulnerability. He would not see more. “But this nonsense can still be stopped before a third reading,” she said.
“I’d hoped to stop it before it got this far.”
“Perhaps the quickest way is to accept the duke’s invitation, after all, if he is to chair the committee,” she scoffed, to hide her fear.
He spun on his heel, leaned across the desk and grabbed her chin in his fingers before she had time to think. “You’ll not whore yourself for Dunscore,” he bit out. “I won’t allow it.”
“A joke, Captain.”
His fingers burned into her skin. His eyes burned into her, too—hot and hungry, dropping to her mouth. Her breath turned shallow.
“Some topics don’t lend themselves to jest,” he said.
A movement in the doorway caught her eye. It was Miss Bunsby, retreating into the corridor. Captain Warre released her chin suddenly and backed away.
Katherine left him standing there and went to see what was wrong.
“One of the upstairs maids let slip that his lordship was here,” Miss Bunsby said in a hushed tone, “and now Lady Anne refuses to do anything until she sees him. I’ve tried to distract her with her doll, her beads, even a game of draughts, but she won’t be swayed. She’s raising a terrible fuss.”
Dearest Anne. Katherine cursed under her breath.
“I tried telling her his lordship was likely in a great hurry, but she is adamant that he will see her.”
“Tell her Captain Warre has gone,” Katherine whispered. Guilt clawed at her, but nurturing Anne’s attachment to Captain Warre would only break her heart in the long run. “By the time you return upstairs it will likely be true.”
Miss Bunsby’s gaze suddenly shifted past Katherine’s shoulder. Captain Warre stood in the doorway.
“Who are you telling I’ve gone?”
A small voice drifted from the upstairs balcony. “Captain Warre? Captain Warre, are you here?”
“Anne!” Katherine rushed to the entrance hall just in time to see Anne’s groping hands find the rail at the top of the stairs. Panic exploded in her chest. “Anne, stop!” She flew up the stairs with Miss Bunsby on her heels.
“Lady Anne, you mustn’t leave your rooms alone,” Miss Bunsby told her firmly. “It isn’t safe.”
“But I heard his voice!” Anne cried as Katherine pried her away from the railings. “He will see me, Mama. I know he will! Captain Warre!”
“Hush, now,” Katherine scolded, watching Captain Warre take the stairs with a grim mouth and measured precision. “Do you remember our rule about you going on deck? You must always be with someone. Always.”
“But I heard his voice!” Anne’s lip began to tremble, and Katherine’s heart squeezed hard.
“I’m here, Anne,” Captain Warre said, reaching the top of the stairs.
“Captain Warre!” Dearest Anne—heart of her heart and soul of her soul, with her olive skin, black hair and exotic Barbary eyes—threw her arms toward him with delight. “Oh, I’m so happy you’re here!”
He lifted her away from Katherine with a hundred questions in his eyes, daring her to object. “What’s all this fuss?”
“I’ve missed you,” Anne said, patting his shoulders and winding her arms around his neck.
His arms tightened around her. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“And I miss the ship. Mama says we can’t go back, but I want to. I want to so much! I hate London. Millie went away, and my dresses are stiff and tight, and it smells bad all the time.” Her pouting lip trembled, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck.
A familiar, strangling helplessness closed around Katherine’s throat.
“Well, I won’t deny the smell,” Captain Warre said. “But your dress is lovely. You look like a little princess.”
“Mr. Bogles is locked in Mama’s dressing room because he climbed the drapes in my bedchamber and they tore,” came Anne’s muffled voice. “He’s been very bad.”
“I don’t suppose he’s used to being inside a house. But surely something good has happened since you’ve been in London.”
“No. Nothing.”
“Oh, I can’t believe that,” he said doubtfully, and began to question Anne in detail as he started toward Anne’s rooms. By the time he set her on her bed they’d come up with four good things that had happened in London.
Katherine watched him brush Anne’s hair from her face with the same hands that had directed men to fire at the Merry Sea, and a deep yearning curled around her heart and squeezed.
* * *
HE WAS SINKING.
James stretched out on his bed, fully clothed, and stared up at the brown drapery while his valet fidgeted nearby.
“Your lordship, shall I—”
“Leave me. I shall take care of it.”
“Your shoes—”
