Chapter 3
James
James waited as Kate drew a long breath and rose.
The sudden absence of her warmth left an unexpected hollow at his side, one he ignored as he leaned back against the bench, surprisingly at ease.
For once, it was not an act. Something about Kate loosened the tight coil in his chest, a welcome but dangerous feeling.
It was the kind that made a man forget why he needed his defenses in the first place.
This should have been simple. A step toward regaining his position and the means to catch Henry’s killer.
Instead, Kate had turned it into a far less predictable event.
James had expected nerves, perhaps hesitation.
What he had not expected was how quickly she overturned every assumption he had made about her.
Kate paced the uneven ground, cheeks warmed by the effort, lips moving faintly as though she were rehearsing a speech. He was struck by her grace and beauty, but it was her unpredictability he found most appealing. Curiosity held him there, waiting for what she would say next.
This was precisely the sort of complication he avoided. And yet, he had just invited it.
He had spoken truthfully. He preferred her direct honesty to a thousand polite but empty conversations, even if it meant remaining on the frozen bench until the sun failed them.
The furrow between her brows suggested she was either solving a puzzle or preparing for battle. It was a look he remembered well.
At last, Kate halted. He rose to meet her. She picked up their conversation without a beat of hesitation.
“Yes, my lord. I have a proposal of sorts. I would like us to have a proper courtship . . . in London.” She smoothed the hem of her sleeve, though her voice remained firm.
“My father is required to be in Town for Parliament, and my mother and I are to accompany him. If you wish to court me, then London seems the most sensible place for us to become reacquainted while I consider your offer.”
“A courtship. In London,” he repeated, momentarily at a loss. Why was he merely echoing her words? “Your father did not mention you were planning to leave.”
A rosy hue crept up her cheeks. “The plans have been in place for some time, but I asked him to allow me to inform you. My parents are assuming we will marry before we go, but I have no wish to marry a stranger.”
Her pronouncement settled between them, quiet and immovable. Words utterly failed him.
She arched a brow, amusement flickering across her features at his silence. “I realize you have been absent from local society for some time,” she said, “but a courtship is an acceptable practice for a gentleman and lady contemplating marriage.”
The little minx. James fought a smile. She was making it difficult to remember his carefully constructed plan. London had always been part of that, but he had intended to leave today betrothed and then married within days. Not facing a complicated courtship.
Yet this conversation was growing more intriguing by the minute. The woman before him was not only beautiful, but delightfully sharp-witted in a way he had never fully appreciated before.
“In practice, I have no objection to either,” he said slowly. “I simply do not understand what changes in the meantime. This is, after all—”
“—a practical arrangement,” she finished for him, her voice chillier than the winter air. “You said as much.”
She let her gaze fall to the trees, turning away from him. Had his bluntness wounded her? The idea landed unexpectedly and more sharply than it ought to have. He had intended only to manage expectations.
James needed to understand, even if it risked pushing her away. “If we decide to marry, then why wait?” he asked. “We once shared a childhood friendship. Certainly marriage would afford us the opportunity to become reacquainted.”
She straightened her shoulders. “But we are not children anymore,” she said, her voice low but firm. “And I do not think I can consent to marry a man whose character I do not know well.”
She retreated deliberately, just beyond his reach. His breath caught. An icy patch lay beneath her. He moved without thinking, his arm circling her waist as her footing gave way. She shifted clear of the ice, and he forced himself to let go.
She smoothed her pelisse where he had touched her. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your assistance.”
He nodded, the ease from earlier slipping further out of reach.
The space between them had widened, though she had moved only a few steps.
A long beat stretched as he searched for a response.
A desire to become reacquainted was reason enough for her to request a courtship, and yet, her tone and the tension she carried suggested a purpose beyond that. His instincts sharpened.
Was there already someone else? His stomach twisted. The thought of another man having already secured her regard, of having some prior claim, took hold, sudden and disquieting. After so many years away, he could hardly expect to find Kate unchanged and waiting for him.
He moved closer. “Kate—” He hesitated, his voice not quite steady. “Is your heart engaged elsewhere?”
Please say no.
A blush stole up her cheeks. “No, I only had one Season. Several gentlemen called upon me, but I found no reason to encourage them,” she replied, letting out a huff.
“Our parents’ intentions are hardly a secret among the ton, Lord Brenton.
It should not be a surprise that they were not overly welcoming to any of my suitors either. ”
Relief passed quickly, giving way to irritation at her repeated formality. He felt an inexplicable urge to knock down just this one barrier, even as he promised himself the rest of his defenses would stay firmly in place. “Must you call me Lord Brenton?”
“A strange question, considering it is your name.”
“Given everything between us, you might call me James,” he said. “At least when we are alone.”
“But we are not even betrothed.”
“Not yet. But we played together as children. Certainly it would not be a complete breach of propriety so long as no one else hears it.”
“It would feel rather forward to use your Christian name after so many years apart, but I promise to do so once you have earned the right to such familiarity.”
“Earned it? And how exactly does one earn the right to be called by his own name?”
“I shall let you know when such a thing occurs.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Perhaps it is.”
“You should know,” he murmured, “that I intend to continue to call you Kate. Especially when we are alone.” There was something disarmingly easy about sparring with her like this.
Teasing Kate came as naturally now as it had when they were children, though now it held an undercurrent that had been absent in their youth.
She sighed, blowing a puff of white into the air.
“Very well, since I am not sure I could stop you if I tried. You may address me by my Christian name. I cannot say that I am surprised by your insistence,” she said, making no effort to hide the challenge sparking in her tone.
“Now, would you be so kind as to answer my question?”
He had worried a proposal to Kate would not be simple, but the swift unraveling of his careful plan made his head ache. He bowed his head, trying to steady himself.
“Lord Brenton?”
He straightened to see Kate watching him closely, and he reined in his irritation at the delay. He forced himself to consider how he might satisfy Kate’s wishes without defying Westmarch’s orders.
He had already intended to return to London after they wed.
His seat in Parliament required his presence in Town, and most of his connections, both political and unofficial, were there as well.
It was also the best place to begin investigating the list Henry had sent him.
He had no wish to force Kate into an unwanted marriage, but he also could not enter into an arrangement with no deadline.
Five weeks. Enough time to secure what he needed and enough delay to lose it entirely. The whole thing was a gamble, but the date on Henry’s letter pressed at the back of his mind.
The decision sat uneasily, but no alternative presented itself.
James had no choice but to yield to her request. He knew what sort of men filled London’s ballrooms, and he bristled at the idea of Kate unattached, surrounded by fortune hunters and less reputable gentlemen.
He was also familiar with other dangers she could not be expected to anticipate.
But if he were with her, he could guard against trouble and keep his promise to Hugh.
“Very well.” His heart beat faster. “I accept.”
It was a risk. One he would not have chosen. But refusing her would lose her entirely. And that, for reasons he did not care to examine too closely, was not an option.
“You do?” She tightened her grip on his sleeve, then stilled, clearly regretting the gesture.
“Five weeks,” he said, stepping closer, near enough that the space between them tightened until the winter air seemed to hum.
“We have five weeks of courting in London. At the end of that time, Kate, I will ask for your final answer.” A gust of wind sliced across the path, rattling the bare branches overhead.
“Why five weeks?”
He could not tell her the truth.
“A drawn-out courtship that does not end in marriage could damage your reputation,” he said, an accurate statement if not the whole reason. He gently loosened her tight hold on his coat sleeve and drew her hand into his. It settled easily. As if it belonged there.
After a measured pause, she drew her mouth into a firm line. “I agree to your condition, my lord. And I am grateful. I know you did not come today anticipating a courtship.”
“I am no stranger to unexpected turns,” he said, a wry note in his voice. “I look forward to our time in London, though I suspect much of my enjoyment will depend on the company we keep.”
Kate laughed, the sound bright against the stillness, and his carefully held reserve faltered. For a heartbeat, James forgot every reason to be careful.
“But you, Kate,” he said softly, reaching out, hesitating only a moment before tucking a windblown curl back beneath her bonnet, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You are someone I am eager to know again.”
The world narrowed and the wind stilled; even the distant caw of a crow faded into silence.
In the quiet space between heartbeats, nothing remained but the two of them and the thrum of unspoken possibilities.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Her breath caught.
His hand remained on her cheek. The vulnerability in her eyes roused a fierce protectiveness, a feeling he had no right to entertain.
He dropped his hand as though burned, moving back abruptly. The cold rushed in again, sudden and biting. The last light of the sun was fading behind the distant trees, casting a faint glow over the stark winter landscape.
He had not planned to touch her and should not have let it get that far.
He had no right to want this or to want her. Not when he could not guarantee her safety. The thought settled heavily, eclipsing all else. Resolve hardened in his chest.
Henry had known the rules of an agent’s world and still had not survived it.
The best way to prevent Kate from suffering the same fate was to keep her from knowing the details of his life in the shadows.
She would not have to carry the weight of his secrets, feel compelled to help or protect him, or step onto a board where one wrong move could cost her everything.
So long as his work as an agent remained hidden, she would have no reason to leave the safety of the life she knew.
There was only one way to accomplish that. He would need to maintain his distance and keep his heart out of the matter entirely. He could not afford to be distracted or to get too close. In a moment of weakness, he might share everything with her. Kate needed to remain untouched by that world.
Before facing her again, he summoned his practiced smile. “Shall we return to the house?” he asked. “I would hate to vex your mother by keeping you out in this weather so long that you catch a chill.”
She hesitated a moment before taking his arm. He guided them back over the frost-laden path, using his frame to block her from the wind. “I do not think there is anything you could do to make Mother angry with you,” Kate said. “But yes, a cup of tea sounds lovely.”
Warmed by the fire and the quiet comfort of tea at Fairhaven Park, James rode Apollo home over the frozen country road beneath a faint canopy of stars. It seemed the special license he had obtained with such certainty would go unused for now, a delay he could ill afford.
Five weeks.
Five weeks of courtship, ballrooms, obligations, and the careful performance of a man with nothing to hide.
Five weeks to identify The Sentinel, unmask a treasonous society, and thwart a possible plot against the Crown.
And all of it while time slipped steadily through his grasp with no guarantee of success on the other side.
He had dealt with criminals and traitors of the worst sort, but courting Kate would be his most difficult test yet. Never had he been required to guard himself quite so carefully.