Chapter 12
Kate
Kate removed her traveling gloves and warmed her hands on the chipped cream teacup as she watched raindrops trail like tears down the clouded windowpane.
The private parlor she had secured upon arriving at The Nook & Lantern offered perfect shelter from the cold rain, and she was grateful to have discovered the quiet, secluded inn, tucked away from the bustling road beyond an old wooden bridge.
She was impatient to reach Dover, but the muddy roads had added an extra day of travel.
With ominous clouds overhead, her coachman had urged them to halt, and she readily agreed when she saw the warm glow of the building through the gloom.
The Nook & Lantern was a quaint building with ropes of ivy crawling up the west wall and a faded sign creaking in the wind as columns of smoke danced up the chimneys.
As she and Tess sat in companionable silence by the warm fire, Kate felt the weight of her decision to travel to Dover but could not deny that the timing had worked in her favor. Her father was distracted with his work in the House of Lords and her mother was preoccupied caring for Hugh.
And then there was James. He clearly meant to handle the matter of the library meeting and the alley without her.
She harbored no doubt that had he caught wind of her plans, he would have stopped her from leaving.
However, he was still confined to his home for recovery, making it easier for her to slip away.
With luck, he would not discover she was gone for a day or two.
She hadn’t decided whether she would confide in him later.
His refusal to share the truth when she visited him left a lingering hurt, and she had no desire to repeat the experience.
James appeared to be two entirely different men, and she could not reconcile one with the other.
If the gossip were to be believed, James had spent the last few Seasons immersed in parties, flirtations, and sporting events with his friends, but she had seen nothing of this since they had met again on the day of his proposal.
If he were truly that carefree, careless man, why in heaven’s name had he been in that disreputable alley?
And how did he remain so confident and calm while they were in the library?
She nibbled on a biscuit from the tea tray as her mind drifted to the other puzzle she was striving to solve.
The strange note in Hugh’s saddlebags had drawn her into a mystery.
Though what she knew was maddeningly incomplete, evidence suggested it was connected to the poetry submissions in the newspaper, and her intuition insisted something of consequence lay at the end.
She was certain she had made the right decision to visit Aunt Edith.
If she happened to take a side trip to Dover while she was in the area and visit The Great Dover Shipping Company, then that would seem to be the reasonable thing to do, would it not?
She took a long sip of her tea, enjoying the warmth that spread through her, though her kid half-boots did little to keep the chill from her feet.
“Tess, would you inquire whether the innkeeper can have a hot bath prepared in my room?”
Tess rose from her chair and set her empty teacup down on the table.
“Of course, my lady.” As her maid opened the door to the main room, the scents of aged timber and roasting beef wafted in and lingered even after Tess was gone.
For a few minutes, Kate was alone with her thoughts, a warm cup of tea, and a cheery fire in the hearth.
And then she heard it.
A voice pierced the calm atmosphere, clipped and commanding, and made her heart stutter.
“Are you the proprietor of this establishment?”
“Yes, my lord,” came the immediate reply, a voice Kate recognized as belonging to the innkeeper.
The exchange dropped to a hush and she could no longer make out the words.
Ignoring all rules concerning proper ladies and eavesdropping, she tiptoed to the parlor door and opened it only wide enough to follow the conversation.
Through the partially open door, she observed Peters, the tall, lanky innkeeper with a kind demeanor and a pair of spectacles balanced on the edge of his nose. Facing him was the man who had occupied her thoughts much too often of late.
“I am looking for Lady Katherine Sutherland.” His voice, though quiet, was laced with urgency. “Has she passed through here? Tell me at once.”
Peters hesitated, uncertainty written on his face, but in the end, deference to class and station won out.
“Yes, my lord. She is at present in the private parlor enjoying refreshments and has engaged a room for herself and her maid tonight.”
“Then I shall require a room for the night as well.”
Kate backed away to close the door, but not before James’s gaze found hers, a tempest in his eyes to match the one outside.
The door shut, cutting their connection.
She wrapped her arms around herself, walking briskly back to her spot at the table, pretending a calmness she did not feel.
She willed her heart to slow as hurried steps approached the door.
He followed me here!
The door pushed open, and a deep voice filled with unsteady relief and a raw emotion she could not name broke the silence.
“Kate.”
She stole a glance at James and her mouth dropped open.
The dim light in the main room had not prepared her for his appearance.
Every inch of him was soaked through from the storm.
Thick mud caked his boots and spattered the hems of his riding breeches.
His dark hair was plastered to his head, and rain dripped off his greatcoat in a steady rhythm onto the floorboards.
He bore little resemblance to a polished earl. Instead, he carried the air of a man possessed.
She could not seem to make her voice work. Why did he not say something? And why, in heaven’s name, was life so unfair? When caught in the rain, she looked like a drowned rat. James, however, resembled a hero from the pages of a gothic novel—dark, dripping, and devastatingly handsome.
A low, rough sound escaped him. He moved closer to the fire and began removing layers.
She watched in fascination as he threw his hat on the closest chair, then stripped off his riding gloves and sopping greatcoat.
She told herself not to notice the drops of water sliding down his cheekbones, but her eyes tracked them anyway.
But when he began undoing the buttons of his damp riding coat, her face heated at the impropriety of their situation. Even with their unusual courtship, this was crossing the bounds of decorum, especially given the way his wet shirtsleeves clung to his broad shoulders.
She slowly stood and willed her face to cool and her voice to steady.
“I believe I shall retire to my room and leave you to recover from your journey.” She busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles of her dress which, quite suddenly, required her utmost attention.
Yet her gaze betrayed her, drifting back to James.
He leaned against the mantelpiece, now clad in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, and gave her a lazy smile. “I did not think you would run at the first sight of me without a coat. Last time it made you blush most enchantingly.”
A gasp escaped her lips before she could stop it. The rogue. She forced a light, dismissive laugh. “You mistake admiration for shock, my lord. I had understood you were something of a libertine but did not guess you were quite so scandalous.”
“I did not think it scandalous to remove my riding coat in the presence of my betrothed. But if you wish, I can put it back on.” He reached to retrieve it from the wooden chair where he had left it to dry.
“No.” She took a step forward to stop him, feeling guilty that she had goaded him. “I would not wish you to be uncomfortable, which is why I was just leaving.”
“I assure you, your presence is not making me uncomfortable. In fact, you are the precise reason I am here.” The teasing tone had vanished from his voice.
He moved toward the table and pulled out a chair.
“May I join you?” He sat down without waiting for her response and poured himself a cup of now-lukewarm tea.
“Let me call for a new pot of tea,” she said. This was her chance to escape the interrogation that was sure to follow.
“Sit down, if you please,” he said, his voice leaving no room for refusal. As much as she dreaded this conversation, she supposed it was better to be done with it. She sank into the chair, hoping the heavy, gray skies framed in the windows were not an omen of what was coming.
He shifted closer in his seat across the table and set down his teacup as his steely eyes met hers. “My dear Kate,” he said in a voice barely restrained, “would you do the honor of explaining to me what we are doing here?”
“We are enjoying a pleasant if unremarkable cup of tea while taking a respite from the weather, Lord Brenton.”
His bearing stiffened as soon as his title passed her lips. She was not sure if she still used it for his reaction or to remind her heart to keep its distance.
“You are aware that was not my meaning.” He leaned across the small table, frustration evident in every word. “I asked for your word, Kate. That you wouldn’t do anything reckless. You couldn’t even wait three days before riding off for Dover alone?”
Her spine stiffened at his accusation. “You asked, but if you remember, I promised nothing. And even if I had, I am not being reckless. I am merely traveling to visit my aunt. I have my maid and a footman with me as well as our coachman. I have done nothing that could stain my reputation.” She lifted her chin in defiance.
He scoffed. “Nothing yet, but you and I both know the real purpose of your journey.”