Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Kitty emerged on the edge of the lawn. A group of guests were playing croquet, but a burst of laughter drew her attention to a small group standing to one side. She smiled as she saw Charles Willingham chatting with Gwyn’s fiancé, Lord Locryn.
Charles had shown her increasingly marked interest of late, and Kitty was fairly certain he was on the verge of making her an offer. She should seriously consider accepting.
As ever, he was impeccably dressed. His guinea-gold curls shone in the sunshine, and his teeth flashed white as he chuckled at some amusing remark of Lord Locryn’s.
He was a handsome, charming companion, always ready with a witty comment or flattering compliment.
There was nothing wrong with him, per se.
His manners were excellent, and he didn’t have a temper, or a fatal propensity for drink.
He would make a perfectly acceptable husband.
But he didn’t seem to have any ambition beyond repeating the latest gossip and being seen in the most fashionable parts of town.
He didn’t seem to understand her desire to do things like explore, read, or do anything that might improve her mind.
Worst of all, he didn’t make her heart thunder in her chest or make her blood sing in anticipation of seeing him.
The way James did.
Her steps faltered. James was only a few paces behind her, and it was impossible not to compare the two. James was a man of substance, of darkness and hidden depths. With his lean strength and effortless grace, he made Charles look like a callow, untried youth.
Charles just seemed less, somehow. Less commanding, less worthy of respect or admiration. Kitty couldn’t imagine him arguing with her, or teasing her, or challenging her. If they wed, they’d doubtless live quite separate lives.
James moved to stand beside her and followed the direction of her gaze.
“God, you’re not seriously considering pretty-boy Willingham, are you?”
Kitty lifted her chin. “And why not? It’s high time I chose someone to marry.”
James snorted. “I’ve encountered puddles with more depth. His only thoughts are what he’s wearing for dinner, and which horse is going to win the next race at Newmarket.”
“Well, not everyone can be war heroes,” she said, stung. “And he makes himself agreeable company, whereas you are scowly and unapproachable, most of the time. You scare women half to death.”
He sent her a narrow-eyed glare. “I can’t help it if my face naturally settles in an unwelcoming expression. And I don’t suffer fools. Life’s too short to pretend an interest in which waistcoat’s going to be next season’s favorite.”
“It’s a good thing I knew you before the war,” she taunted. “Otherwise, I’d never guess that you can laugh.”
“I haven’t had much to laugh about recently,’” he growled.
She acknowledged that with a nod. “True. But life goes on. Andrew would have wanted both of us to be happy. And I’m trying. To be happy, that is.” She glanced back across the lawn. “Which is why I’m considering Charles.”
“He’s a shocking flirt.”
“At least he’s not a recluse, as you’ve been these past months.”
That earned her another scowl.
“I was recuperating. I wasn’t in the mood to see anyone.”
“Not even me, apparently,” she said, forcing a lightness into her tone to disguise the hurt.
“Willingham’s a gambler and a spendthrift. He’ll fritter away your dowry as soon as he signs the marriage certificate.”
“You think he’s only after my money?”
“Amongst other things,” he said darkly. His piercing gaze trailed over her face, then dropped lower for a brief but devastating, perusal of her body. Heat bloomed in her cheeks.
His lips curled up in a taunting jeer. “Willing-ham. How apt. He certainly is willing. And your name’s apt too. You’re worth quite a bit, Kitty Worth, now you’re the sole heir to your father’s fortune.”
Kitty gave a delicate shrug. “Charles has made no secret of the fact that he wishes to marry a woman with means. That’s not unusual; most society marriages are based on the same principle. Cash in exchange for a title. At least I know where I stand from the outset.”
She glanced sideways at him. “Some of us don’t have a title to entice people to marry us, Lord Leighton,” she paused to let that barb hit home. “Charles is pleasant enough. He would never be cruel.”
“He’s all wrong for you.”
Her temper rose. “And what do you know about it? You always said marriage was for fools.”
“I was wrong.”
His solemn words made her swing around and gape at him in disbelief. “You? Settle down? Give up your rakish ways? I don’t believe it.”
He shrugged. “It’s true. The war has changed me. It’s helped me put things in perspective.”
“You really think you could be happy with just one woman for the rest of your life?”
“The right woman, yes. Absolutely.”
Kitty’s heart plunged to the depths. The right woman. Of course. Not her.
“What is it to you who I marry, anyway?” she managed, turning away from him. “You have no right to meddle in my affairs. You’re no blood relation, nor am I your ward.”
“Thank God,” he said, fervently. He made a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. “I’m looking out for your best interests. As a friend.”
“I don’t need your interference.”
He let out a slow, controlled breath. “I made a promise to Andrew, before our very first battle. I swore that if anything happened to him, I would protect you.”
Humiliation made her cheeks burn. “I don’t want the advice of a man who’s only helping me out of some misplaced sense of duty. I didn’t ask for your protection. I don’t want it.”
“That’s not why I’m doing it,” he said crossly.
“You see me as an annoying little sister.”
“That’s not true. Believe me, if I thought so once, I most assuredly do not see you that way now.”
She couldn’t keep the bitterness and sarcasm from her tone. “Oh really? And how do you see me?”
He took a step closer and the hint of his warm body and woodsy cologne sent her senses reeling.
“As a woman with a clever brain and a witty tongue,” he said. “As someone with an inquiring mind and a dry sense of humor. You are kind, and loyal, and passionate.”
Kitty was shocked into silence.
“And beautiful,” he added. “You deserve far better than Charles Willingham.”
Misery bloomed in her chest. He sounded so sincere. But she wasn’t beautiful enough or clever enough to tempt him, was she?
She reached forward and plucked the basket from his unresisting grip. “Just leave me alone, James Cashell.”
Kitty’s head was pounding as she skirted the lawn, avoiding the groups playing games. James called her name as she slipped around the side of the house, but she ignored him and quickened her pace. She entered the kitchen gardens.
“Miss Worth!”
She turned as Charles’s cultured tones hailed her. She bobbed a hasty curtsey and his lips turned up in amusement as he took in her basket and slightly disheveled appearance.
“Why, Miss Worth, you look charming!” he laughed. “Like Marie Antoinette playing dairymaid.”
“I’ve been to get some honey,” she explained with a wry smile.
“With Lord Leighton,” he added mischievously. “So I saw.” His laughing blue eyes held a hint of question and—dare she say it—jealousy?
“He’s just an old family friend,” she said, and immediately felt guilty.
She pushed the betrayal away. A hint of angry rebellion ignited inside her, a desire to prove that this man, at least, found her desirable, even if James did not.
She sent Charles her most becoming smile.
He took a step closer, and she caught a hint of the light, floral pomade he used in his hair. So different from James’s woodsy scent.
“I rather hoped to catch you alone, this week,” he murmured, stepping even closer. He lifted his hand and brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear. “You must know how I much I admire you.”
He really was a handsome man. Kitty’s assessing gaze took in his clear blue eyes and slightly dimpled chin. He was like some golden fairytale price. He returned the inspection, and the sensual curve of his lips left her in no doubt that he approved of what he saw.
“I’d love the chance to get to know you better.” His eyes flicked to her mouth and his thumb stroked her cheek in a gentle, suggestive caress. “Can you escape your chaperone and meet me in the west tower tonight?”
It was quite clear that Charles had more than conversation on his mind, but she wasn’t averse to kissing him. Quite the contrary. If she couldn’t have James, then she might as well find out if another man could stir her desires.
Maybe she’d discover that a real kiss from Charles could make her feel just as dizzy and intoxicated as an imaginary kiss from James. She fervently hoped so.
There was little risk of discovery. Aunt Stella, her elderly chaperone, was always sound asleep by midnight, and the staircase to the west tower was only just along the corridor from the room they’d been given.
There was scant chance of bumping into anyone else creeping around the halls.
And she so desperately wanted an adventure.
Kitty threw caution to the wind.
“What time?” she whispered, feeling thoroughly wicked. She’d never done anything quite this scandalous before.
“Midnight?”
She sent him another encouraging smile. “I’ll be there.”
James snapped his jaw shut and pressed back into the side of the building. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. What on earth was Kitty playing at? Had she really just agreed to meet that cad Willingham for a lover’s tryst at midnight?
Charles might be planning to give her a few kisses in the darkness . . . or he could mean to ruin her completely.
James hadn’t exaggerated when he’d told Kitty that Willingham was a gambler.
Fitz had kept him up to date with everything that was going on in the clubs during his convalescence, and he’d heard rumors that Willingham had tangled himself up with some very unsavory moneylenders.
No doubt he’d come to Cornwall to escape them and their increasingly dire threats.
Was the man desperate enough to seduce Kitty? Possibly. He might even try to blackmail her into marrying him.
James let out an infuriated breath.
He’d never allow that to happen.
Charles Willingham didn’t deserve her. Nor did any of the other useless, fawning suitors who’d been panting at her heels. None of them would cherish her or appreciate her sly wit and dry humor. None of them would take her exploring, to all the places she wanted to go.
A barrage of images bombarded him, memories from when they’d played together as children.
She’d always been up for an adventure, traipsing around after Andrew and himself, trying to keep up.
She’d been a gorgeous, unshakeable pain in the arse—who’d grown into a gorgeous, intelligent woman.
A woman he couldn’t think of without experiencing far more adult yearnings and desires.
James didn’t deserve her either, of course. But damn it, if anyone was going to marry Kitty, it should be him.