Chapter 8 #2
She opened her mouth to argue with her mother about receiving callers but decided against it.
Not wanting to disappoint her mother more than she already had this week, she dutifully called Tess to help her change.
When she heard the murmur of masculine voices at the front door, Kate hastened to the drawing room.
She had scarcely settled on the blue-and-cream-striped settee when Dixon announced the Earl of Brenton.
James strode into the room, his bottle-green coat only sharpening the challenge in his gaze. “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Katherine. I trust you are rested after last night’s activities.” His eyes sparkled with a wicked gleam. “The evening proved rather . . . intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her mother seemed oblivious to James’s wordplay. Kate refused to acknowledge it. The memory of the library, and the heat of his presence behind the curtain, pressed dangerously close, and she was annoyed by how readily her heartbeat answered every time she recalled his touch.
Smoothing her expression before she spoke, she replied, “Actually, I found it to be overly crowded for my taste.”
James smiled, and before she could stop it, her own lips tugged upward in answer.
“The Earl of Alverton,” Dixon announced from the doorway. Kate’s smile faltered, but she managed to hide her grimace before anyone noticed.
Alverton swept into the room as though he owned it, completely ignoring James after giving him a curt nod. Even his peacock-blue coat and matching striped waistcoat proclaimed his need to be admired.
“You are quite welcome, Lord Alverton,” her mother said as she glanced at Kate. “I am certain my daughter wishes to express her gratitude for the flowers herself.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you for the beautiful arrangement.” She curtsied only out of sheer politeness and sat down, annoyed when he took the place on the settee beside her, shockingly close.
She moved away under the guise of straightening her skirts.
The subtle menace that clung to the man repelled her, even beyond his overly flirtatious actions.
Undeterred, he slid closer still. “I find myself eager to further our acquaintance after our dance last night. Your beauty is worthy of the highest admiration.” His appraisal raked over her, slow and deliberate with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl.
She crossed her arms, wishing she had a shawl with her.
She recoiled in disgust as she recalled his wandering hands and veiled comments about her charms. If only proper ladies were allowed to tell men like Lord Alverton what they really thought.
“Lady Katherine has many admirable qualities, Alverton.” James took the chair opposite the settee, his brow drawn low and his jaw clenched with murderous tension. Was there some history between James and Lord Alverton that she did not know?
Lord Alverton finally acknowledged James, lifting his hands in a placating gesture.
“Certainly. I did not mean to neglect complimenting Lady Katherine’s other charms. Indeed”—he turned back toward her—“I would love the opportunity to tell you all of the ways I hold you in high esteem. May I take you on a drive through Hyde Park on Friday afternoon?”
No answer came. Going on a drive—or anywhere—with this man was the last thing she wanted to do. “Well, I, you see—”
“Apologies, Alverton, but Lady Katherine is already engaged that afternoon to go driving with me.”
James’s pointed look urged her not to expose his lie. She did not appreciate his high-handed manner in taking charge of her arrangements, but she was grateful that she had an excuse to avoid Lord Alverton.
“As you see, I am already engaged that afternoon. I apologize for any inconvenience, my lord.”
“Perhaps another time then.”
She could not make herself say yes. A smile would have to serve.
The tension between James and Lord Alverton simmered like the lit fuse on a powder keg.
She had never been more grateful for the arrival of the tea tray or for more callers.
She cared little whether Mr. Robinson or Lord Walcott stayed or went, but perhaps the presence of others would help dispel the awkward strain in the room that lingered despite her mother’s valiant efforts.
Kate assumed the role of hostess and prepared each guest’s tea. Low murmurs of polite conversation filled the air as her mother and the gentlemen conversed, and Kate was reminded of the hushed conversation in the library. Would she recognize their voices if she heard them again?
She passed James his cup. He took a small sip and met her gaze over the fine bone china. “Precisely how I like it. You remembered I prefer my tea with honey?”
She had been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she had prepared his tea on instinct. “A fortunate coincidence.” He could not know that at one point, she had paid close enough attention that she had cataloged far more of his preferences than his favorite way to drink tea.
She returned to the tea tray to prepare the next cup and sensed James walking behind her. When she stopped, he pressed closer than propriety allowed, though she did not feel any of the dread at his nearness like she did with Lord Alverton. Only warmth and a rush of nerves.
“I hope I did not overstep in declaring we had already planned an outing,” he said in hushed tones as she dropped a lump of sugar into the cup. “Even if we were not practically betrothed, I would never wish for you to endure an excursion with Lord Alverton.”
“In this instance, I am grateful for your interference, but what do you have against Lord Alverton? Has he wronged you?” She turned to face him, still holding Mr. Robinson’s neglected cup of tea.
His grip on his teacup tightened enough that she worried the fragile china would break. “I don’t care for the way he regards you.”
That was unexpected. “And how precisely does he look at me?”
“Like you are an object, a prize to be won and displayed.”
“And precisely how should a man look at a woman who has captured his interest?”
His gaze, dark and stormy, fixed on her.
“A man ought to regard the woman he loves as though she were the very air he breathes—that every moment in her presence is a gift to be cherished. That he would count no sacrifice too great to keep her safe. That his life begins and ends with her alone.”
She knew she ought to look away. She did not. How would it feel to be loved by a man in such a way?
How would it feel to be loved by James that way?
Something shifted in James’s expression. He took a step back, breaking the fragile connection between them, and moved away before the quiet intimacy could deepen any further.
She turned back to the tray, though the simple work of pouring tea no longer felt simple at all.
It was not James’s words alone that unsettled her, but the steady conviction behind them.
Even if she gave up everything to be with him, James would certainly despise her when he learned the truth about who she was.
Marriage would demand more than her hand.
It would demand the parts of herself she could never reveal.
Kate ached for a life that seemed impossible. She wanted to be loved and yet remain herself. Not a love that confined, or required silence, or asked her to be less than she was. But she feared such a love might not exist at all.
The following day passed in a blur of social obligations and strained smiles, but as the sun fell below the horizon and the house grew quiet in the late evening, she paced in front of Hugh’s bedchamber.
She was convinced she had deciphered the code with the location of the meeting that would take place tonight.
The Crown & Oak.
Tess had discovered it was a tavern on the east side of London.
Her brother, however, had not yet stirred from his laudanum-induced stupor. Westmarch was still unavailable.
For a fleeting, dangerous moment, she considered telling James everything. The thought lingered longer than it should have. Confiding in him would open a door she needed to keep closed.
She was on her own.
If she waited, the trail might vanish entirely, and the consequences could be devastating. Courage did not arrive all at once. She had to gather it piece by piece.
The decision, once made, left no room for lingering. She hurried to her chambers, shadows and candlelight following her down the corridor in turn. She might very well be courting ruin, but the serpent coiled around the oak leaf haunted her thoughts, a warning for all those she loved.
She entered her chambers and shut the door firmly behind her. Every possibility carried risk, but that did not mean she could afford inaction. It was precarious and undoubtedly foolish, yet a secret thrill stirred within.
With firelight dancing behind her, she studied her reflection in her looking glass and drew herself straighter.
Her dark hair was pinned high, though a few wayward tendrils had escaped to frame her face.
A faint scatter of freckles dusted her nose.
And the determination in her reflection would have horrified her mother.
She rang for Tess. She trusted her lady’s maid with her life, and she would need every ounce of that loyalty tonight.
Because Lady Katherine Sutherland was about to break every rule of propriety she had ever been taught.
She was about to do something truly scandalous.