Chapter One
E dmund Peters stepped out of the hackney across the street from a crowd of men gathered in front of Viscount Featherswallow’s Mayfair townhouse. Edmund had arrived in London not even an hour before and barely taken the time to drop his luggage at the Clarendon Hotel before hailing the hackney. He’d wanted to see Kitty and her father as soon as possible. Clearly, he had not been the only gentleman with that goal in mind.
Edmund spotted the viscount in the crowd of young men and crossed the street, halting midway when he heard a crash. The sound seemed to have come from the townhouse, and Edmund looked up at the building in time to see the door open and a well-dressed gentleman race out. He looked over his shoulder to confirm he was not followed before joining the group of men. “She’s mad!” he sputtered breathlessly. “She threw a vase at my head.”
“Oh, dear. I hope it wasn’t the Sèvres,” the viscount said.
“She might have killed me! No dowry is worth this,” the man said.
Another clatter sounded inside the home, and the recently evicted gentleman jumped.
“My lord,” another gentleman said, “your eldest daughter is clearly not to be tamed. I beg you to allow us to court your younger daughter. Miss Bianca Featherswallow is sweet and kind and—”
“Not available,” the viscount said. “I’m afraid you may court Kitty or no one.”
Edmund could attest to the veracity of the viscount’s claim. He’d seen Bianca at Godwin Priory, the Featherswallow country estate, two days before. She was hiding from fortune hunters who had attempted to abduct her and force her to marry to claim her dowry. Edmund was the son of the gentleman who owned the land adjacent to Godwin Priory. He’d known the Featherswallow sisters since they’d been children playing chase in sheep pastures and hide-and-seek by the old Roman wall. Kitty was not mad, and she did not need taming.
The window on the first floor opened, and Kitty stuck her head out. “I can hear you praising Bianca! Not a one of you will ever marry her if I have anything to say about it!” Her blonde head retreated, and the window slammed closed again.
“She’s done away with Miss Bianca!” one of the gentlemen said.
“Should we invade?” another asked. “Miss Bianca may be in danger.”
“My younger daughter is in no danger!” the viscount said, obviously trying to quell the riot before it began. He most certainly did not want to reveal that Bianca was out of town. He’d sent her away to keep her from these grasping gentlemen.
“Then may we court her?” another man asked.
“No. You may court my daughter Katherine.”
A gentleman next to Edmund muttered, “He says he won’t marry the younger until the elder is wed, but no one is brave enough to face the elder.”
“I am,” Edmund said. He raised his voice so the viscount might hear. “I would like to court Kitty.”
The viscount’s dark eyes searched the crowd for the source of the voice, and the men parted, revealing Edmund. The viscount smiled. “Mr. Peters! Well met, sir. Well met! I did not know you were in Town.”
Edmund bowed. “I’ve come to seek Kitty’s hand in marriage. If my proposal is acceptable to you, my lord.”
“Of course.” The viscount, who was almost the same height as Edmund, put an arm about him and drew him away from the crowd. “Why are you really here?” he asked, voice low. “Is Bianca well?”
“She was quite well when I left her two days ago. She mentioned Kitty was accepting suitors. I’d like to propose.”
The viscount nodded, shaking his head sadly. “You always did have a tender spot for her, though God knows she didn’t deserve it. Are you certain, lad?”
“Quite.”
A clang sounded inside the house, and the viscount glanced at it warily. “She’s in a bit of a temper. Perhaps you should return tomorrow.”
“I’d like this settled as soon as possible, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t,” the viscount said. “Be careful, lad. Your father will have my head if you come home missing a limb.”
“I’m certain it won’t come to that.” Edmund straightened his shoulders and walked through the crowd. “Gentlemen, into the breach I go.”
A roar of approval greeted this announcement. “Good luck!” one man cried.
“Not necessary,” Edmund said. “I have a hard head and thick skin and don’t woo like a babe.” He passed a condescending glance over the gathered men, then turned for the door. They shouted encouragement after him until he stepped inside the townhouse and closed the door.
*
Kitty stomped across the drawing room, reached for a silver candlestick, reconsidered, and lifted a pillow instead. She threw the pillow across the room, accidentally hitting a framed landscape painting, which then clanged to the ground.
“Dash it all!” she said, though she would have liked to say something a good deal cruder. Fury burned through her, hot and bright. She had told her father she did not want to marry, and yet he’d invited suitors to woo her these past three days. She’d tolerated them the first day, though her ears had all but bled from the bad poetry, and every room in the house was now filled with dying flowers. She’d endured the sycophants the second day. She’d only cursed once (or twice) and had only thrown two (or three) books at the men.
But today…today her patience was at an end. If these grasping men who only sought her hand for her dowry could not understand she did not want them, she would make them understand. Clearly, her words had no effect. She’d had to resort to physical expressions of her displeasure.
Kitty almost smiled. Her tantrums had succeeded. They’d run away like the cowards they were. And now they stood outside her home and lamented Bianca’s absence. What did she care if everyone always like Bianca better than her? Why did it matter if these men who had come to court her secretly wished she were the pretty, petite, delicate Bianca?
“Ugh!” Kitty grunted and threw another pillow. This one knocked the sheet music off the pianoforte.
“If you don’t care for that song, I’m sure we can settle on another,” said a male voice.
Kitty swung around, prepared to face another avaricious suitor, but the retort on her lips died when she saw Edmund Peters. For a moment, all she could do was look at him and shake her head. He was not supposed to be here. Edmund should be in Hampshire, seeing to his family’s land. Unless…
“Is my sister—” she began.
“Quite well. I saw her two days ago.”
Kitty felt a weight lift from her shoulders. She’d known it had been the right thing to send Bianca away, but she’d always looked after her younger sister, and Kitty felt uneasy not being able to protect her.
“I didn’t come about Bianca,” he said.
“Oh?” Kitty raised her brows.
“I came for you.”
For some reason those words made Kitty’s skin feel prickly and warm. Her gaze flashed to Edmund’s, which was a mistake. She’d forgotten how attractive he was with those gray eyes and that dark hair. She looked down, which was also an error, because then she noted his broad shoulders, slim waist, and muscled thighs. This was no pampered nobleman, like the dandies outside. This was a man who knew the feel of hard labor and whose body bore the effects of it.
Quite lovely effects…
“I beg your pardon,” Kitty finally managed after focusing her gaze on a spot on the wall near Edmund’s head.
“Bianca said you were in London for a husband. I came to offer myself for the role of groom.”
Kitty glared at him. “What trickery is this? Am I not humiliated enough?” She gestured to the window and the crowd of men outside. “Now you have come to mock me?”
“I don’t mock you at all. I intend to make an honest proposal.” He reached for her, and she scooted back, jostling a table and almost upending a lamp.
Panic raced through her at the thought of his touching her. Not because she didn’t want him to touch her. She did want him to lay hands on her. She wanted it too much.
“Edmund, you don’t want to marry me.”
“I do.” He moved forward again, and she slid around a couch, putting the furnishing between them. “Kitty, it can’t have escaped your notice all these years that I admire you.”
“It has escaped my notice.” But now she was lying, because she could remember many times over the years when she’d felt his dove-gray eyes on her, warm with approval or appreciation. She’d thought she only imagined it. “You’re only here for the dowry.”
“Ouch.” He touched his chest, over his heart. “Your words sting. I don’t need your dowry.” He moved around the couch, and she grabbed a chair and thrust it at him.
“Watch out. I’m like a wasp, and I can sting with more than words.”
He raised his brows. “If you’re a wasp, then I had better pluck out your stinger.” He grabbed for the chair and tossed it aside. Kitty let out a little scream and tried to flee, but he caught her about the waist.
“You’ll never find it,” she said, struggling against his hold and trying to ignore the feel of his strong, warm hands on her.
“Everyone knows where a wasp keeps her sting. In her tail,” he murmured in her ear.
“In her tongue.”
“Speaking of tongues in tails—”
She gasped. “I was not!”
“Come sit on my lap.” He moved to the couch and pulled her down on top of him.
“Let me up!”
“I will, Kitty. If you answer me one question.” His tone had gentled, and his hands loosened on her. She turned and looked into his eyes.
“What question?” she asked.
“Do you really not want me?”
Kitty opened her mouth, the retort ready before she could even think the word no . But he put a finger on her lips, quieting her.
“Because I want you,” he went on, voice low and seductive. “I’ve always wanted you—first as a playmate, then as a friend, now as a lover.”
She shook her head.
“It’s true,” he said. “You’re clever and beautiful, witty and stubborn, strong and yet achingly soft.” His hand settled on her hip as he said this, emphasizing the soft parts of her he liked.
Kitty tried to speak again, but it was not simply his finger damming her reply. No one had ever said anything to her like this. No one had ever called her beautiful or clever or witty. No one had ever seen her as anyone more than Bianca’s sister. Perfect Bianca. Darling Bianca. Why can’t Kitty be more like her sister?
“Why do you think I kissed you all those years ago?”
Kitty felt her cheeks heat. She hadn’t thought he remembered that kiss. She’d been all of fifteen, which meant it was more than a decade ago. But there wasn’t a day that passed where she didn’t think of that kiss. They’d been out walking with Bianca and Edmund’s sister Rose. The young girls were skipping ahead and searching for berries. Edmund was returning to Oxford the next day for another term. Kitty had told him she was jealous and wished she could go to university and learn all he did. “All I ever learn is French and embroidery,” she’d said.
“I promise it’s not nearly as exciting as you believe.”
“You’re lying,” she said.
“Yes, I am. University is jolly good fun. No parents. No waking up in the middle of the night when a ewe is having a difficult labor. No chopping wood for the winter or harvesting the wheat when we’re short of laborers.”
“You know you miss all of it.”
He’d looked at her then. Really looked at her. Those gray eyes focused on her with an intensity that made her shiver. “You know me too well, Kitty,” he’d said. “But you don’t know everything.” He’d moved toward her, and she took a step back until she was pressed against a tree. “I’ll wager you didn’t know I miss you.” He leaned a hand on the tree trunk beside her shoulder. “Do you ever miss me?”
Kitty had missed him, but she’d never admit it. She’d never admit she read his letters to the family over and over or wrote replies that she then tossed in the fire. “No,” she said.
“Now who’s lying?”
“I’m not—”
“Shh.” He moved closer so his body brushed against hers. “Kiss me, Kitty.”
He’d lowered his mouth to caress hers in a delicate manner that was almost chaste. She’d closed her eyes, and colors exploded behind her lids as her blood thrummed a beat in her ears. For a moment, she hadn’t been able to breathe. Then he’d pulled back, and she’d opened her eyes. She might have grabbed him and kissed him again—except Bianca chose that instant to holler, “Kitty! Come see this flower!”
Edmund had given her a rueful smile, and they’d broken apart and trudged after the girls. Neither of them had ever mentioned that kiss again.
“I thought you’d forgotten that kiss,” she said now, looking down at him. She’d forgotten she was supposed to be fighting to free herself from his arms and his lap.
“My first kiss?” He smiled and shook his head. “How could I?”
“That was your first kiss?”
He nodded. “Was it yours?”
“Of course.”
“Then we come full circle,” he said, cupping her cheek. “I was the first man to kiss you. I’d like to be the last.” He exerted gentle pressure to pull her mouth closer to his. “Will you be the last woman to kiss me, Kitty?” His nose nudged hers, and all she could think about was how close their lips were and how easy it would be to close that distance. “Say yes,” he murmured.
She would have said anything in that moment if it meant he would kiss her. “Yes,” she whispered, and was rewarded with the sweep of his lips against hers. She felt the same frisson of heady pleasure she remembered from over a decade ago. She’d never felt this way with any other boy or man she’d allowed to kiss her. For a long time, she thought she’d imagined it. But no. Here was that tingle, that heat, that drugging brush of his lips.
If this kiss was like the one from their childhood, it would end now—sweet and innocent. But neither of them was quite so innocent now. Edmund slid his hand to cradle the back of her neck and pull her closer. She pressed her hands against that steely chest, curling her fingers into the wool of his coat. His mouth moved over hers, tentatively at first and then with more confidence. The pressure of his lips was light and teasing. Kitty’s thoughts were a jumble, but one thing was clear—Edmund knew how to kiss.
He took the teasing to tantalizing and then to demanding. Kitty was there with him, wanting more even as he gave it to her. When he licked at her lips, she parted them, allowing him inside. The sweep of his tongue was like a bolt of lightning to her senses. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst. The breath caught in her chest, her lungs feeling as though they were gripped in a vise. Her body went absolutely limp, seemingly out of her control as she melted against him. She wanted to tear the coat off him, open his shirt, feel his skin against her palms.
What was the matter with her? But even as she had the thought, he deepened their kiss, and she made a low moaning sound that would have mortified her were she not made completely insensible by the flick of his tongue and the mesmerizing slide of his lips.
“Kitty?” a voice called from far away. “Edmund?”
Edmund pulled back, and Kitty wanted to cry out at the sudden break between them. She needed his mouth on hers.
“Are you both still alive?” came the voice, which she now recognized as her father’s. She realized she was still sitting on Edmund’s lap and scrambled to her feet. This was not an easy task, as her legs felt about as solid as dandelion fluff. But she stumbled a respectable distance from Edmund just as her father opened the door to the drawing room. His gaze took in the two of them. Kitty didn’t know what he saw, but a smile broke out on his face.
She blinked. When their mother had been alive, he’d smiled all the time. Now his smiles were few and far between. “There you are,” he said. His gaze swept the room, probably taking in the destruction she’d wrought—pieces of broken pottery, pillows on the floor, an overturned chair. “Have you been catching up?” he asked.
Kitty felt her cheeks burst into flame. Edmund, however, didn’t seem the least self-conscious. “We were just discussing childhood memories.” He put an arm about her waist and pulled her close. Kitty stiffened and tried to move from his side, but he held her tightly. “And the future and making new memories, of course.”
“Very good. Very good.”
Kitty frowned at her father. He seemed quite pleased with himself. Just then, she heard more voices, and half a dozen men, whom she recognized as her would-be suitors, appeared behind her father. She drew in a breath, her fingers itching to grab for another vase to throw. Edmund squeezed her in a gesture that was vaguely reassuring.
Her father turned to the assembly. “Everyone must join me in a drink to toast the new betrothal of my daughter Katherine Featherswallow to Edmund Peters.”
“What?” Kitty said, but her voice was swallowed by the roar of the men. She looked up at Edmund, but he was smiling broadly, like he was some sort of victorious gladiator and she was the lion he’d vanquished. He’d tricked her. Edmund had tricked her!
“Huzzah!” one of her suitors cried.
“You did it, sir!” another called out.
“All hail Peters! He’s finally tamed the shrew!” a third man called.
And that was the very last straw.