Chapter 18 Katherine—Dawn Is Still Dark for the Outcast
KATHERINE—DAWN IS STILL DARK FOR THE OUTCAST
Soft purring awakens me. Then, the smell of bacon hits my nostrils. I feel warm. Sunlight from the large window pours over me. It’s morning.
My anxious heart remembers Stephen saying that the duke’s fever broke. I smile.
“Lady Hampton, please wake up.” The voice belongs to Mr. Steele. No black armband; in fact, I don’t see one hanging from his pocket at all. He sounds too chipper for something bad to have happened.
“Is the duke well?”
“Yes, ma’am. His Grace is better. He’s up.” Mr. Steele puts Lada and her basket down and lends me support off the floor. Then he says, “The duke wishes you to join him for breakfast in his chambers.”
I don’t answer. Instead, I lean down and greet Lada.
The steward’s groomed her again. Her coat shines and looks trimmed, but a bandage and splint wrap her back right leg. “What happened?”
“The little thing was in bad shape. Some care will make her better. It’s good you rescued her. She wouldn’t have made it.”
“Mr. Steele, I think you are attached to my kitten. I’m glad for it. I know Lada will benefit. Would you mind continuing to help care for her from time to time?”
A smile appears on his solemn face. “Yes, ma’am. Lada is a sweet creature.”
Maids pass us. They stare at me. In privacy, they may joke at my reduced status. I don’t care. This is what I deserve. I must serve the duke to repay a portion of my debt.
“Ma’am. The duke awaits. He will explain some new arrangements.”
Wrinkled, still in the jet maid costume I wore yesterday, I pick up Lada’s basket. “Perhaps I should go change and—”
Mr. Steele knocks on Jahleel’s door. “Your Grace, Lady Hampton’s here.”
The steward opens the door and allows Lada and me to go inside.
One glimpse of an empty bed makes my pulse explode—but then I see Jahleel sitting at a small table near the copper tub. I finally breathe.
“Beautiful morning, Lady Hampton.”
He taps his cane, an ornately decorated ebony stick. Carved with laurel leaves, it’s capped with malachite marble. “I am here past dawn. I’m ready to dicker.”
He uses the cane to lift himself. The strain on his face shows the effort. I rush to the table, put down Lada, then offer my support. “No rushing, Jasha. Recovery takes time.”
His cheek twitches. “Lady Hampton. Thank you, but I don’t need your assistance.” He stands erect. “It will take a while to gather my full strength. But be of great cheer. Death will still win.”
“No, Jahleel.” I throw my arms about him. He still smells of lavender and coconut. “We are not doing this. No venom. No hate. Just gratitude that we are both here, and it’s dawn. You have a deal for me.”
His arm slowly curls about me. I don’t let go until I know he reciprocates.
“So forthright? So eager. Then celebrate my postponed death. Bring your friend, an actual cat. Not imagined in any way. I’ll finish the poison your sister created.”
I stiffen, stunned at his cheerful use of the words death and poison. “Why can’t we merely be happy for your recovery?”
“Oh, I celebrate in private. But with you, I shall speak only brutal facts.”
He sips and makes a Lydia-like unhappy face, then shifts to smile at Lada. “What an unusual thing you have there. And with a pink bow. A bribe for Lydia? I thought you were against grand gestures.”
I’m speechless. The barbs are pointed and probably deserved. Yet part of me hoped that last night made things different. “Jahleel … I’m glad.” I curtsy. “Excuse me. I’ll let you eat alone.”
“Running away after I invited you. Aren’t you curious what’s for breakfast? Lady Hampton, I’m dying to see what’s under the silver domes.”
I ease Lada’s basket to the floor again. Then I focus on the man with narrowing hazel eyes.
I don’t want an enemy. My feet begin to move. Soon, I’m inches from the cold-sounding man I lay upon to keep warm.
A brow lifts. I see his hand positioning on his cane, but I cling to him before he can rise.
He’s seated. Leaning into him, I bury my face into his neck—the folds of his collar smell of lavender and sandalwood.
Thud. His cane drops, and his arms tug me against him. I strengthen my grip on him, as when he almost fell, leaving the bath. He needs to know that despite everything, I’m here now. I’m awake. I finally admit to the good man he is.
“Please see something worthwhile in me.” The drumming of his heart—is it surprise or pain? It doesn’t matter which. I’m grateful to hear it beating. “No matter what, I’m not leaving you.”
One arm goes about my waist. He pushes me lower to my knees. The seated man looks down at me. His face is blank except for his eyes, which beam with indecision. “So you won’t leave this time? No matter what I do.”
A hand goes into my chignon, grabbing tresses and jerking my face closer to his. “Is that so?”
Before I can utter a response, he ruthlessly kisses me. None of the soft exploration of last night—that good man is gone.
This is a villain demanding submission. I taste bitter dregs, the brutal tongue of a bitter man. Yet I know beyond the medicine, there’s sweetness.
Patience will release it.
“Ready to run, Lady Hampton? Wilcox Coal calling you?”
“Is that the worst you can do? I’m not frightened. And you’re out of practice.” I slip my arms around his neck. Villain or saint, I don’t care. I’m here and so is he. I hold on to him, opening my mouth, my heart to anything and everything.
Jahleel nibbles down my throat and kisses the gullet of my neck.
My fingers fight against his collar and find his skin, massage that spot along his neck where tension and pleasure unlock.
His touch changes. The pressure, too. Then I notice his thigh trembling against my side.
He relents and lets me go. “Maybe you do have the ability to be a mistress. Can you take orders?”
“Anything you can demand, I’ll achieve with honor.”
His expression softens. “Then sit. Enjoy breakfast with me.” His tone sounds different, like someone trying to be difficult. It’s false. My willingness has him off-balanced. A confused chess player has to be to my advantage.
But I don’t want an advantage. I want forgiveness. Seated with Lada’s basket beside me, I say, “I mean what I say. I will serve you. And have I passed this test?”
“Katherine, you were never intimidated by anything. I always liked that. And I do remember that you like to misbehave in the dark. Enjoy breakfast, Lady Hampton.” He lifts the delicate cup of brownish green liquid. “Then we’ll talk.”
“I’m not that hungry. I think I want to sleep more than eat.”
“A mistress who sets her schedule? Doesn’t her keeper set those?”
“Keeper? You intend to keep me? I don’t do month to month.”
He is silent for a moment, slightly grimacing as he sips. “Continue with your terms.”
“I need to be respected.”
“Says the woman who slept on the floor outside my door when perfectly good rooms are available.”
“A good mistress must be nearby. Then she can act quickly if you need something.”
Jahleel sets down the cup. “The adjoining suite already has your things. My closet connects the two. What else?”
“I expect to be the type of mistress that’s treated better than a wife.”
His eyes sparkle. He even chuckles. “You had time to think of all this outside my door?”
“Though you sent me away, I didn’t sleep until Stephen returned. He examined you and told me you were doing better. Then I could rest, but I wasn’t going to be far from you.”
“All this devotion now.” He fingers the handle of a butter knife like he’s deciding where to aim. “You listened to what I wanted. The bath was what I needed.”
Sliding him the fresh whipped cream, I say, “A mistress must be attentive.”
Lada awakens, purrs, and then glares at him. She stops making any sound.
“Lady Hampton, introduce me to your pet. Busy woman, how did you find time?”
“Just a cat I saved on the way here.” I pick up her basket and present her to him. “Her name is Lada.”
His face blanks. “Yes, Steele said that name last night. That was what we called Anya’s cats.”
“It was the first name that came to me. I meant no harm.”
When Jahleel reaches across and strokes her head, Lada purrs like she’s found a lost friend. “You must’ve remembered her,” he says. “Good to know all memories are not bad ones for you.”
Our gazes connect and linger. My mind strays to the kiss we just shared, and the ones from last night. “Many are good, but the present is better.”
He drinks his tea and grimaces.
“Probably not enough honey. You like things sweet. I’ll have to tell Scarlett.”
We begin eating, not talking. My eggs are good, and the bacon, too.
He’s slow and deliberate but does clear his plate. He uncovers a platter of his favorite dessert, kartoshka. Each pastry offers the scent of caramelized sugar, browned butter, and warmed berries.
My bargaining partner peers at them. For a man who loves dessert, how can a pile of his favorite treats go untouched? “I’ll also speak to my sister about making something to stir your appetite.”
“You think I need to eat more. I’m a waste?”
“That’s not the right word, Jahleel. Wasting away. And yes, you must eat more.”
“Then what is more muscled?” He flexes his arm. The deep indigo sleeve bulges a little.
I push his elbow down. “You are nicely done. But being so ill … oh, I don’t know, you were sizable. Thicker.”
“You like me thick, is that it?”
Tea dribbles out of my mouth. “That’s not how I’d say it.”
“But I understand, Katherine. Fine. I accept your offer.”
“For assistance with Scarlett.” I slip a piece of buttered toast to Lada and wait for an answer. “Or my six-month deal?”
“Maybe.” Slow and easy, he picks up today’s Morning Post.
The word bigamist is emboldened across the top of the paper. The groan I release echoes. “The gossips didn’t waste any time.”
“Well, the Palmerses didn’t. Finding you a husband will be difficult, more difficult than before. You do need my assistance.”
“It will be difficult now that the papers are involved. But you, Jahleel, you’ll have no problem securing attention. Will this new young bride—”
“No one said my new wife had to be young.”