Chapter Thirty-One
Kitty carefully folded the last of the wares that were no longer hers on a worktable that she’d never again use. It was difficult to let it all go, but her dream was over. She would find some other way to ease her mental itch to create. Perhaps she’d make dresses for Betty.
It didn’t matter. The paperwork was signed, her business was gone, and Alyssa was out of a job. She’d spent so long focusing only on her career, she’d ignored the problems of the present. It was time to rectify that lapse.
She held up the last of her dresses. The fabric was both light and sturdy, made of a lovely cotton printed in a swirling pattern.
“How lovely,” a voice said.
Kitty turned around to find a tall, black-veiled woman wearing a vibrant-purple day gown and an enormous emerald necklace that had to cost more than Kitty had made in her life.
“Did you make this dress?” she asked. “Do not lie to me. I will know if you are lying.”
Kitty blinked. “I did.” She wished she could see the woman’s face, but there was not enough light in the shop to penetrate the veil.
The woman tilted her head. “You will show me more.”
Her words had such an air of finality that Kitty rushed to obey. She pulled out the few garments she’d packed, displaying them for the unknown woman’s appraisal.
“You are closing this shop?” the woman asked at last.
Kitty closed the lid of a trunk. “Yes.”
The woman shook her head. “I am sad to hear it. This is some of the finest work I’ve seen. Cordon was right about you.”
Kitty straightened. “How do you know Cor—Lord Grayson?”
The woman lifted her veil. “I am Seraphina Lysander, Dowager Countess of Kilkenny. We have met once before. Cordon suggested you might suit as my new dressmaker.”
A dowager countess. In Kitty’s shop.
The saliva evaporated from her mouth. It was a dream come true. This was the chance she’d been waiting for, and of course it was because of Cordon. She would have to thank him the next chance she had.
She dipped into a deep courtesy. “You honor me, my lady.”
Lady Kilkenny uttered a most unladylike snort. “If you were honored, you would show me more of your lovely wares.”
Kitty sidled over to her workbench and leaned her hip against it. “I am terribly sorry, my lady.” It pained her to say the words. “My business has been sold. I have no claim to anything here.”
“That is a shame.” The countess narrowed her eyes. “I was hoping you would make me a gown befitting the Sultan’s Ball.”
All the air vanished from Kitty’s lungs. A dowager countess was asking her to make a gown for one of the largest events of the season.
But she’d already signed the paperwork. She couldn’t commit to a client without a workshop, an assistant, or materials other than the scraps of fabric she’d salvaged.
“Cordon said you might react thus,” the countess said. Her lips quirked. “I am to present you with this.” She reached into her pocket, removed a letter, and held it out.
Kitty stared at the envelope with its red wax seal as if it were a viper about to strike. The day had started with absolute misery and now was turning into something out of one of her vivid dreams.
“Well, open it,” Lady Kilkenny said.
Kitty flushed. It was not polite to open correspondence in the company of another, but she also felt obliged to do whatever the countess asked. Thus, she accepted the letter, cracked the seal and unfolded the paper from inside onto her workbench.
Dearest Kitty,
I apologize for intruding in your life, but I had Seraphina check on you and when I learned of the sale, I instructed my solicitor to buy your wares and the building your shop is in.
My dearest regret is that I was never able to say goodbye.
You deserved so much better than what I gave you.
I love you, and I hope that after I die, you have the passion and creativity to return to your craft.
Cordon
P.S.: Please charge anything Seraphina orders to my account, and my solicitor will ensure you are paid.
Her eyes burned, and her fingers trembled as she smoothed them across the slanted, messy writing. He was the anonymous buyer. Had he penned instructions and this letter from his sickbed?
“I take it this changes matters?” Lady Kilkenny asked.
Kitty closed her eyes. Having a dowager countess wear one of her designs in public was the chance of a lifetime, one she would likely never have again.
She would be guaranteed dozens of new customers.
She could buy a new shop in a more fashionable district.
Her entire life, everything she had worked for, had culminated in this moment.
But she couldn’t say yes.
That was what pained her the most. She had a perfect opportunity sitting before her. It would be no different from any of the other customers she’d taken, although the stakes were monumentally higher.
But there wasn’t enough time.
Yes, she could complete an order quickly enough, even with her shop in such disarray, but only if she rehired Alyssa, started working immediately, and devoted all of her time to the creation of a dress that would be grand enough for Lady Kilkenny.
It would take every minute of the time she had left to finish it before the ball.
Meanwhile, Cordon was dying.
Cordon, who had bought her shop. Cordon, who had taught her the joy of self-indulgence.
Cordon, who loved her.
“I-I-I cannot,” Kitty said, stammering the words.
This was a nightmare. A dowager countess stood before her, asking for her help, and she was saying no.
As much as she craved the future she’d dreamed of since she’d been a young girl, she loved Cordon more.
Therefore, there was no other option but to decline and join his side as soon as possible.
She would have other opportunities in the future.
Eventually.
She looked up from the worktable, prepared to suffer Lady Kilkenny’s ire for refusing her, but the woman was smiling.
“I thought you might say that,” the countess said. “There is something else you should know, then.” She grinned, revealing two sharp, elongated teeth.
Kitty’s body reacted before she could process what she was seeing. She scrambled back and nearly tripped over a stool. Lady Kilkenny had fangs.
“W-What are you?” Kitty asked.
The countess sniffed. “Come now, child. I have seen into your mind. You already know. You simply refuse to admit it.”
She squeezed her hands until her nails bit into her palms. “No. It’s not possible.”
Cordon’s eyes had changed color. His flesh had burned from a mere ray of sunlight.
Then there was that sharp, piercing pain each time he’d brought her pleasure.
The warm substance that had dripped down her shoulder that he’d claimed had been saliva.
He had bitten her because he’d been drinking her blood.
She must have been dreaming, or the countess was playing a cruel joke, or Kitty had succumbed to the stress of her overbearing family and could no longer distinguish reality from fiction.
That was the only logical explanation.
Lady Kilkenny made a disparaging sound. “Humans. Even with the evidence before your eyes, you refuse to believe. You know what we are. If you will not say the word, then I will. Vampire.”
Cordon was a vampire.
A vampire who had held her in his arms as she’d cried, who had nursed her back to health when she’d fallen ill from exhaustion, who had kissed her with such tenderness that it had made her heart ache.
She should have been terrified, but all she felt was sadness because this was one more reason they could not be together. He wasn’t merely in a different social class from her; he was a different species. Or was it breed? That depended on if humans and vampires could reproduce.
An anxious laugh erupted from her lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth. She was standing in front of what her religion considered a demon, and she was debating terminology. It didn’t matter if Cordon could reproduce because he was… how old was he?
Lady Kilkenny studied her nails. “Cordon was turned in 1737 at the age of three-and-forty.”
“One hundred and seventy-three,” Kitty whispered.
She never would have guessed he was that much older than her.
Then again, it explained his unusual fashion choices and occasional old-fashioned way of speaking.
If she remained by his side, she would continue to age while he remained exactly the same.
Except he had told her he was dying, and she had seen the bruising and the bags under his eyes.
Surely, that could not have been a deception.
“It was not,” the countess said.
“What?”
“A deception. Yes, I can read your thoughts.”
Kitty winced. Having someone peer into her mind was tremendously uncomfortable, like she was being forced to take part in a conversation against her will.
Oh, God, the countess could hear everything she was thinking.
She would have to keep a tight hold on her thoughts and not remember a single thing she’d done with Cordon.
Not the opera. Not the masquerade. Definitely not their ride in the forest and the way he’d used the switch on her after.
Lady Kilkenny sucked her teeth. “I apologize for my rudeness, Miss Carter.” She bowed her head. “I promise I will not intrude again. Now, if you are ready, I have a carriage waiting.”
Kitty blinked. “‘A carriage’?”
The countess ran her palms over her fitted bodice. “You love Cordon, do you not?”
Kitty’s throat went dry. “How do you—” She shook her head. “Never mind. Yes. I love him.”
Lady Kilkenny nodded. “Then I will take you to him.” She walked to the door. “Come. I have always wanted to be the force that reunites lovers.”
Kitty followed, feeling as if someone had removed her stomach and other organs and replaced them with stuffing.
She was going to see Cordon again.
She just hoped he had forgiven her.