Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Well, good, I will leave you to screw your brains on, or whatever.
When you're ready to return, please join us in the music room.” The poor girl needed comfort, and Millie gently squeezed her hand before offering her a bright smile.
With one last glance at a deflated Haven, she turned and flounced after the other women, determined not to fall asleep during what promised to be a dull affair.
Entering the music room behind Melisande, Millie followed the handsomely dressed woman to the chair closest to the pianoforte.
Arranging her skirts, she sat beside the younger matron who was glaring at the young ladies by the piano.
One chatted animatedly, the other looked on with cold boredom.
Curiosity, an old and welcomed companion, stopped by for a visit and wanted to know more about the Kroger twins.
Something about them piqued her interest. Also, she couldn't quite rid her conscience of the uneasiness she experienced when the Kroger twins were near.
She fought back a shudder.
Why did they make her ill at ease? Something about them needed closer inspection, but for the first time in her more than sixty years on earth, she couldn't meet the challenge head on. She'd castigate herself later, but for now she would use the nearest tool at her disposal.
Knowing that Melisande was her best source of information on the two, other than the twins themselves, she began, “I am so pleased you could attend our little party. It has been so long since we've entertained here. A shame really, with so many wonderful people living within a thirty-minute ride.”
Without taking her eyes from the women standing beside the pianoforte, Melisande nodded. After a second she faced Millie.
“I agree. We have been neighbors for ages, it is intolerable for such an eligible and affluent man to hermit himself away in this house. After your long overdue visit”—Millie detected a tone of censure—“I told Minerva, a very popular young woman among the Ton despite her mob of red hair, that it was high time for the duke to consider matrimony. While he looks young and healthy, one never knows when the good Lord will call one home. It is always best to have an heir and a spare to carry on the Dunham name, and the family honor of Caspire, of course.”
Melisande took a break to fan her face, and Millie took the opportunity to wrest the conversation back to the path of her choosing.
While conversing with an old friend about the loins and lodgings of her nephew could be an interesting if somewhat awkward experience, she would rather delve into the deep, icy pool that was Melisande's sister's children.
“How long have your darling niece and nephew been visiting?” She began the line of questioning with a simple inquiry that would open Pandora's box.
“They have been with us for more than a sennight. I do believe they will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Their father died, and they have no other family in Germany. They shouldn’t be underfoot long.
Divinia is of age to find a marriageable peer, and Angelous is a fine catch for any marriage-minded miss of lower nobility. ”
Lower nobility. A baron or baronet perhaps.
“They are exquisite and so well mannered. Where have you been hiding them?” Cleverly camouflaging a question within her compliment, she moved the querying along.
Minerva perused the collection of sheet music hidden within the piano bench, which meant the musical portion of the evening would soon begin and conversation would cease.
Millie was determined to discover more about the twins.
Why? An absurd urgency pushed her to set aside the pleasantries and ask the meaty questions, and to get to the heart of why the Kroger twins were the focus of her attentions.
There was something....
Unable to ask pointed questions without raising suspicion, she allowed the other woman to dictate the speed at which they exchanged sentences.
“They really are striking, aren't they?” A sweet, yet sorrowful smile graced Melisande's face.
“They have my sister's eyes. She had the most beautiful eyes. She could turn every head in the room with her brilliant blue gaze, and she thrilled in the attention, of course.”
“Who wouldn't?” Millie asked rhetorically.
Melisande’s sweet smile of remembrance soured.
“While they have my sister's eyes, they have their father's shocking blond hair, coloring, and height.
My sister was a petite thing, couldn't quite reach the bottom of her husband's cravat. They were so mismatched. Other than their love for the sacred Word of God, they had nothing in common.” Melisande's countenance grew contemplative.
Nodding in agreement, Millie coaxed, “They do sound as though they were poles apart. How did they meet?”
Melisande's expression deepened to one of remembering.
“It was my second Season, and I was, once again, skirting the fringes of popularity. My horrifically colored hair was de trop, and very few young men of consequence would deign to speak with me. Thank God for poor old Reginald. He saw past my carrot curls, and we had twenty wonderful years before he passed.” Millie recognized that Melisande was chasing a rabbit down a hole, but she didn't want to be rude.
Minerva was playing scales, and the music would begin once the men arrived. Only a few moments more to gather information from her friend’s wandering mind. Praying to the good Lord that Melisande would remember the original question, Millie simply sat and listened.
After another minute of useless memories, Melisande declared, “But being Brigit's first Season, she was the belle of the ball.
Her perfectly coiffed blond hair and blue eyes drew admirers like flowers draw honeybees.
One evening, late into the Season, we attended Lady Marloning's ball in honor of her son's engagement.
Young William had attached himself to the Earl of Pacey's daughter, and they were as well matched as black and boots. Though the guests were in attendance to celebrate the upcoming nuptials of the glowing couple, all eyes were on dear Brigit, including those of one Mr. Erich Kroger. He was the guest of our mutual acquaintance, Lord Kerew. The moment their gazes met over the crush in the room, no other would do for Brigit.”
Millie took note of Melisande's change in tone when mentioning Mr. Kroger. “Your sister fell in love at first sight, but you had your reservations, which, as her older, wiser sister, is a requirement.”
Sighing, Melisande confessed, “Even from our first encounter, there was something off about him.
I couldn't quite place why I never felt at ease around him, but because I loved Brigit, and wanted to see her happy, I said nothing.” Her voice caught as she confided, “To this day, I wonder if I did the right thing in staying silent. You see, the day they were married, Mr. Kroger spirited her away to his family estate near Frankfurt. I never saw her again. She died giving birth to the twins.”
Logan tapped his finger on his still full glass of port, and fought the urge to make his way to the group of ladies in the music room.
Setting his drink on the side table, he swore under his breath.
What a fool.
He didn't care about getting back to anyone other than Miss Edwards.
Haven.
Turning to his dearest friend, he nodded absently at something he said. Harry's usually uplifting chatter did nothing to alleviate the weight of uncertainty in his chest.
At the start of the evening, when he had met Haven at the bottom of the stairs, she was radiant, glowing with excitement, natural beauty, and a mutual sexual attraction.
Her body hummed with desire, and he would have given anything to give her the pleasure she so craved.
Giving her pleasure would be no hardship, although thinking about her was making him quite hard.
Relieved that his crossed legs did a bang-up job of hiding his erection, he cleared his throat.
“Sorry, Harry, what was that?”
Harry arched an eyebrow. “My cousin, Divinia, is on the prowl for a husband. She could do worse than a duke.” His eyes twinkled.
Logan’s stomach turned. The thought of marrying Divinia Kroger transformed his dinner into a sour pile in the pit of his belly. Beautiful, well-mannered, and related to his dearest friend, she could be a perfect duchess, but she put him off.
She was a predator; he just didn’t know how far she’d go to get what she wanted—and if Harry was right, she wanted a husband.
Sometime during the gentleman’s sojourn for port and conversation, Mr. Kroger had disappeared.
He’d been silent and intense when they first departed the dining room.
In Logan’s study, Harry happily chattered about his plans for what remained of the Season, but Mr. Kroger was stiff, quiet, and strangely contemplative.
His thoughts were elsewhere. More curious…
where had he gone? He left them not ten minutes after they entered the study together.
At Harry’s arched look, Logan admitted, “I must apologize. I am not good company at the moment.”
“I see. Woolgathering. You couldn’t possibly be thinking of a certain beautiful American impostor who is sitting in another room, eh?” His knowing smile was enough to send ripples of pique through Logan’s usually calm demeanor.
“What if I was? Shouldn’t I be considering what to do with her?”
Other than a good, old-fashioned fucking.
Good? What an understatement. A single moment of pleasure with Miss Edwards would bring him to his knees—literally, and figuratively.
Her power over him was incomprehensible, and he didn’t know what to do about it.
Ignore her? Tamp down the fires of attraction and overwhelming desire burning through him?
Get her back to her own time quickly? Even as the voice in his logical mind answered, yes, yes, yes, a deeper, neglected voice whispered, no, no, no.
“Well, I suppose so, but I don’t think that’s the sort of considering going on in that brain of yours.
No, don’t scowl at me, I know there are some unanswered questions poisoning the pond where you’ve been brooding, but maybe, after your long soak in the stagnate pool of bitterness, it’s time for you to pull yourself from the mire, and ford headlong into a river flowing with clear, sweet, refreshing water. ”
“Harry, I never took you for a philosopher, or a poet for that matter,” Logan sneered, uncomfortable in the direction and focus of the conversation.
Standing, Harry countered, “Philosopher, no. Poet, God, strike me now. I am your friend, and that should count for something.”
Feeling the utter ass, Logan sighed and stood.
“Again, I must apologize. I haven’t been myself lately, and it is wrong to take it out on you. I understand you’re concerned, but please, allow me to do as I feel is right.”
Harry smiled, slapping him on the back. “I trust you to do what you think is right.”
Quirking an eyebrow at Harry’s implication, he began to form a retort, but was stopped short by the arrival of Mr. Kroger. The man looked as composed and withdrawn as he did before he’d disappeared.
Where had he gone?
No matter. He most likely made use of the facilities.
In an effort to move the evening forward Logan said, “Mr. Kroger, you’ve missed out on a robust port, and a rather stimulating conversation. We are just making our way back to the ladies. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mr. Kroger’s expression flashed intense interest, and then quickly flattened to indifference. “Not at all. I suppose the evening must progress, and we shouldn’t keep the ladies waiting.”
His strangely enthusiastic expression advertised his eagerness to return to the ladies, but why? What were his intentions? Who was he so keen to see? His cool and intense sister, or Haven?
His Haven.
When had his subconscious mind laid claim to her?
He feared the answer.