Chapter Twenty
Grayson nodded to the unsmiling butler as he entered Lady Lynford’s elegant home. He had been here many times before, but tonight he resented the social commitment. He was weary from racing around the countryside and emotionally spent.
By the time they had reached London, the sun was setting. Grayson agreed to meet Jasper and his solicitor for dinner, but Jasper’s solicitor, already out for the evening, had been impossible to reach.
So Grayson was forced to take his meal with Jasper, a man he was beginning to believe was a complete imbecile.
Although he was accustomed to dealing with persons of inferior intellect, Grayson’s patience had been worn thin by the long day, and he found himself more than eager for an excuse to quit Jasper’s company for the night.
And now he was at the Lynford house, though he could hardly call the society much of an improvement.
Straightening, Grayson wrestled his inner turmoil to a dull roar as he walked through the crowd.
His old restlessness seemed to have returned, stronger than ever, only now his vague longing had a focus: Kate.
Frowning, Grayson made his way to the card room, where he stood surveying the play with little interest. Although he could find better games at a club or one of many gambling dens he had frequented in the past, his old passion no longer tempted him.
He had a new passion.
The reminder weighed heavily upon him. He stalked out of the French doors into the garden at the rear of the house, but there was no escape from the woman who had invaded his life. She was in his thoughts constantly, in his blood, in his heart…
Rebelling at the notion, Grayson told himself that Kate was on his mind because of what lay unresolved between them. He needed to find out why she had left him, why she had denied him today, how she felt about him…
Folding his arms across the stone balustrade, Grayson gazed out into the night, acutely aware of his solitary existence.
His separation from Kate did nothing to ease his obsession with her.
It only added a new sensation: a dull ache that told him he missed her with every breath he drew and every beat of his heart.
“Wroth?”
Grayson pushed aside the maudlin thoughts at the sound of his name, but he made no move to greet the woman who spoke. Most females knew better than to approach him, and his lack of answer ought to send this one scurrying away.
“Where’s Kate?”
Surprised, Grayson lifted a brow and turned. It was Charlotte, looking a bit overblown in a fancy silver gown. Briefly, Grayson wondered what he had ever seen in her, for her wild hair bore no resemblance to Kate’s smooth curls and her contours were a far cry from Kate’s slender shape.
He missed her so badly his fingers balled into a fist. “Gone home.”
“Why? It’s obvious that she loves you.”
The words sent a thrill shooting through Grayson, and he stiffened, denying their power over him. If Kate felt anything at all for him, then why had she left? He had been a good husband, kind, attentive, generous with his purse and in his lovemaking.
And yet… All the while he had struggled against his attraction to her, calling it base and primitive, ashamed of his weakness. He sucked in a harsh breath at the admission, but kept it to himself. “You know what ton marriages are like,” he said tightly.
“Stop it,” Charlotte said, with surprising vehemence.
Too tired to glare at her, Grayson simply stared out into the darkness. “Not everyone subscribes to the ridiculous fancies of that idiot you married. My wife and I have a civil arrangement.”
“The great Wroth would not settle for that,” Charlotte said. “Love, genuine passion, or whatever you want to call it, is worth more than a hundred flirtations, a million polite contracts.”
When Grayson said nothing, she drew out her fan and leaned back to study him. “You are known for your honesty. Let me ask you this, and answer quickly: would you rather be married to me?”
Grayson blinked at her, stunned by the question. Once, he would have thought her a suitable wife, but now… His heart started racing at the thought of trading Kate for anyone else.
“I thought not,” Charlotte said, smiling and tapping his arm with her fan.
“But it’s not easy to have more than a civil arrangement. For a real relationship, you must give something of yourself. You cannot have it both ways, Wroth,” she said softly.
“Either you have an empty marriage, like most of these wretched creatures, or you risk yourself on something better, finer, richer. You obviously are a man of fierce passions. Why would you accept anything less?”
Because it’s a sign of weakness, Grayson thought bitterly.
But was it? Perhaps weakness lay in following the easy course, the one set by other men who felt nothing for their wives or the mistresses paraded before them.
Suddenly, Grayson wondered if Wycliffe was not to be admired for his bravery. The man had the courage to care.
As if anticipating his capitulation, Charlotte leaned close. “Go to your wife,” she whispered over her fan. “Go to her and tell her what’s in your heart.”
Kate tossed and turned in her lonely bed, just as she had ever since her arrival at Hargate. But this evening was worse. Tonight she was acutely aware that she could be lying beside her husband.
Grayson. His image filled her mind, and she shut her eyes tightly, forcing away the vision of him sleek and golden in the moonlight, loving her with his body, if not with his heart.
Seeing him today had shattered all her fine intentions to forget him, and Kate began to wonder if she was running from the one good thing that had ever happened to her. Plumping the pillow violently, she paused to consider that Lucy might be right.
Was she so accustomed to suffering that she could take no pleasure in anything? Had Grayson been insupportable, or had she searched for a reason to hide from the strongest feelings she had ever known?
Turning over in the suddenly still and eerie silence, Kate felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise as they so often had in London, and her eyes flew open wide, searching the darkness. She let out a shaky sigh. No one was watching her here. She was alone, except for Lucy in the next room.
And then she heard it: the quiet glide of the handle that gave entry to her room. Shooting upright, she clutched the blanket to her chest as the door swung wide to reveal the shadowy figure of a man.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the high-and-mighty Lady Wroth.”
Kate stared, unable to believe her ears, for the voice was that of the man who had bullied her all afternoon. But hadn’t Brown been turned over to the magistrate?
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m holding a gun on you, in case you didn’t notice.
” The fellow taunted her, and Kate drew in a sharp breath as moonlight glinted off the metal in his hand.
“And none of your ragged band of rescuers are going to save you, either. Now, didn’t I tell you that you’d pay for tying me up? Well, now’s the time. Get up!”
“Let me dress, at least,” Kate said as steadily as she could, while her thoughts raced ahead. Was he alone? How had he escaped? And where were Tom, the footman, and the two men Grayson had left to protect her and Lucy?
“No! You just get up as you are and get your fancy self downstairs. Jasper’s waiting.”
Jasper! Kate’s heart thudded wildly as she rose to her feet. This was no petty revenge from a thieving bully. This was more, much more, for Grayson had left with her uncle in good faith. Grayson! Kate stumbled as fear swamped her. What if Jasper had done something to Grayson?
She would kill him.
Determination steadied her, driving away the panic and the fright and clearing her head.
As she reached for her robe, Kate slid the pistol she kept beneath the bed into a pocket, glad for the voluminous velvet garment she would once have scorned, for its thick folds hid the weapon cradled in her palm.
Stepping into her slippers, she straightened, head held high.
Silently, she led the way downstairs, Brown following close behind.
The large windows flanking the entrance sent shafts of moonlight across the foyer, where Jasper stood, his hand resting on Lucy’s shoulder.
Her sister was seated in a small straight chair to which her hands and feet were bound, as Brown had been earlier, and Kate gasped in outrage.
“Ah, there you are, Kate, darling. We thought we had better take care of dear Lucy first, just in case we had difficulty persuading the headstrong older sister to cooperate, eh, Brown?” Jasper asked, while his cohort chuckled appreciatively.
“And I must say, it was nice of you to keep the house so deserted. My confederates had the situation neatly in hand in only a few minutes. Really, Kate, a house this size should have a proper staff, don’t you think?
But I must admit, I am impressed that you hung on to anything.
Did your dear papa have some private funds hidden away here that kept you going? ”
When Kate did not answer, he merely shook his head. “Ah, well, it is of no consequence now. I still have the bulk of your fortune and the land. The house will, unfortunately, have to be burned down in order to make the deaths of you and your sister appear to be a tragic accident.”
At his words, Lucy moaned softly, apparently too frightened to engage in her usual histrionics. Although Kate ached to comfort her sister, she did not want to be bound, as well.
She had to maneuver herself into a better position, for she would have only one chance to shoot her uncle, and then she would have to contend with Brown. Stepping away from the little man, she eyed Jasper coolly.
“Surely, you do not intend to set fire to Hargate?”
“Oh, but I do, Kate darling. You see, I simply cannot afford to lose all that lovely money. This way, Lucy dies, unmarried, so I retain her share, and as for you…”