Chapter Thirteen #2
The man she pegged as a dandy, decked out in satins and silks of every hue, with a high starched collar and dangling watch and flashing rings.
He nearly outshone the women, who were less colorfully, if no less splendidly, attired in low-cut gowns that made her own seem modest. They wore elaborate hats with plumes and feathers and carried beaded reticules and fans that they twirled and snapped and fluttered in some sort of mysterious communication.
And in between taking tiny nibbles of their cakes, they stared at Kate, their eyes narrowed, their mouths turned up into smiles that were patently false.
They were like the illustrations of exotic vipers in one of her papa’s books—both beautiful and deadly—and Kate felt like tipping them over in their chairs and pouring tea upon their heads.
Instead, she gave them cool nods and ignored the voice inside that told her this was the world she had left and to which she could never return, no matter what that arrogant tyrant Grayson said.
And when her thoughts tended to drift to the pain his abrupt announcement had caused her, she refused to acknowledge it, concentrating instead upon holding her own against the company.
“But surely you know Lady Bradley? She is most famous for her entertainments. Why, everyone has been to Bradley House,” Mrs. Parker said.
It was on the tip of Kate’s tongue to put a halt to this devious conversation and begin some plain speaking, but just then Grayson returned, bringing the other dandy with him.
“Kate has not been to London recently,” he said easily, coming to stand behind her chair. “She spent several years in mourning after her father’s death and has not had the heart for such frivolities.”
“But you must bring her to Town soon,” Mrs. Parker protested as she lifted her fan.
“Perhaps after we are married,” Grayson answered, and Kate was startled to feel the tips of his fingers brush her shoulders. “You will forgive me if I am a bit selfish about what is mine.”
Kate saw Mrs. Parker’s mouth drop at Grayson’s possessive claim.
“And now, let me direct you back to Town. I’m sure you are in a hurry to finish your journey,” he said smoothly.
Raleigh would be denied his refreshments, but he did not protest and urged the others to depart. Kate was grateful, for she had seen enough of them. Rising to her feet, she bade them farewell, all the while aware of Grayson hovering closely near her back, as if to claim proprietorship over her.
Then they were gone, as remarkably as they had arrived, in a flurry of loud speech and giggling, and Kate breathed a long, slow sigh of relief before she turned to face Grayson.
She was acutely aware of how alone they were, Lucy and Rutledge having escaped into the garden with the departure of the guests.
And, suddenly, she felt very ill-prepared for her confrontation.
The marquess said nothing, but eyed her with an intensity that disturbed her, as if he would see into her very soul. Kate glanced away, unwilling to let him know her feelings, for despite her anger and humiliation, her heart had leapt briefly when he described her as his betrothed.
Luckily, her brain had quickly put a stop to that romantic nonsense, and now she was determined not to agree to such folly. Nor would she admit that her affections were engaged, for Grayson was much too sure of himself already.
Drawing a deep breath, she turned to face him. “No,” she said firmly.
“No, what?” Grayson asked, lifting one of those infernally expressive brows.
“No, I’m not going to marry you.”
“Of course you are,” he said.
“You cannot be serious. I appreciate your efforts to save my reputation, but it is not necessary, I assure you. I shall never see those dreadful people again, nor do I care what they say about me.”
His mouth tightened for a moment before curving into a slight smile. “Ah, but I do.”
“Well, that is your problem, is it not?” she asked defiantly.
“And yours, too, I fear.”
His control exasperated her. “No. It is yours. I simply wish to return to my old life, without any further interference from you.”
His mouth tightened again. “It is too late for that, Kate, and you know it.”
She turned away. “I cannot do it. Don’t you understand? I cannot be… them,” she said, waving a hand toward the window.
“Who?”
“I cannot go to London and play at conversation with such wretches, smiling when I don’t mean it, waving fans—”
“What? Pimperington and his ilk?” Grayson dismissed them with a contemptuous snort. “They are idiots, not fit to grovel at your feet.”
Kate’s heart threatened to melt at his quick defense, but she would not allow it. “I cannot pretend to be a part of that world. I am a cook and a groom and a maid. I am no longer a lady.”
Grayson gave a low growl of laughter that made her turn toward him again. “You have more integrity and dignity than any noblewoman. You can be whatever you want, Kate. After what you’ve done here, you can do anything.”
His faith in her was daunting, and perhaps, with his help, she could reenter that glittering existence, but that was the least of her reasons for refusal. “No matter, for I will not do it. Nor will I marry you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Grayson said. “You’re a sensible woman, Kate.”
She nearly flinched at the word, which had become onerous. When had she ceased wanting to be prudent? When she marched into the Marquess of Wroth’s study with a gun in her hand? Or when she first looked upon his face or touched his body?
“You want respectability for your sister. How could you want anything less for yourself?” he asked.
Kate glanced at him, so sure in his assumptions, and she felt as though she were unraveling.
They had begun their odd relationship on even ground, both of them independent and assured, and now…
Grayson stood before her as haughty as ever, her heart in his keeping, while she had nothing, not even her composure, to call her own.
“You have no idea what I want,” she managed.
“Oh, I think I do,” he said, his lips curling into a provocative smile that sent tendrils of heat twining through her limbs. The involuntary reaction made her stiffen, and she glared at him.
“You are arrogant enough to think so, but you don’t.”
He lifted a dark brow in amusement. “You positively wound me, Kate.”
“If only I could,” she whispered. Straightening her shoulders, she walked past him, intent upon her own company and whirling thoughts. Behind her, she heard his low, seductive voice, taunting her with its power.
“I shall procure a special license, so we can be wed as soon as possible,” he said.
Kate’s steps faltered at the suddenness of it all, but she should have known that a man like Grayson could accomplish anything with all speed—even an unwanted wedding ceremony. Shaking her head, she resumed walking, not even turning back when she heard his last warning.
“I’ll expect you to do what’s right, Kate.”
***
Watching her go, Grayson felt helpless, an uncharacteristic condition that both angered and dismayed him. He knew he ought to go after her, to make sure that all was settled between them, but he was feeling unaccountably raw and exposed by her adamant refusals.
Refusals! He stalked across the drawing room. How could she possibly deny him? The very idea was ludicrous. Any woman in her position would be a fool not to snap at his offer.
Not only was she in need of his wealth and power to redeem her heritage, but he had compromised her and publicly announced their betrothal. How the devil could she say nay?
Grayson strode to the windows and stared out at nothing.
Obviously, Kate felt ill-equipped to be his wife, and he should go to her, if only to reassure her that she need not waste her time among the ton’s dubious company.
They could travel or make their home at his country seat or at any number of houses.
They even could stay at Hargate, for all that he cared.
And he would have gone after her in an instant to tell her so, if he had not sensed there was more to her refusals than a reluctance to enter society. Kate was too brave to risk her future on such a trifling excuse.
From her wary, defiant expression, he knew she had other reasons for tossing his proposal back in his face. But what? Grayson walked to the threshold, only to stop abruptly, uncertain of himself for the first time in years.
Common sense and his own experience with negotiations told him that he should seek out Kate and wrench the truth from her, but he felt an uncommon reluctance to do so.
In all his life, he had never known rejection, and he did not want to ask her any more questions, especially on the eve of their wedding, for one simple reason.
He was not sure he wanted to hear the answers.