Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Ah!” she says, before I can question her further. “This here. This was always your color.” She pulls out an emerald-green jacket with gold and blush embroidery along the front and cuffs, then crosses the room to lay it out on the bed. “I always loved you in green. It matches your eyes so well.”
My eyes are not, and never have been, emerald green.
They are a drab olive if anything, and more brown than that.
But I don’t argue with her. I simply take a gold waistcoat from the armoire and join her at the foot of the bed, where she has opened a large trunk.
She is about to kneel to reach into it when I lay a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’ll do it.”
She smiles appreciatively and steps back. “I’ll give you a moment to change,” she says. “Join me in the drawing room when you’re done. I’ve brought tea and sandwiches.”
Again she has surprised me. The Kitty I once knew always seemed nothing more than a handsome dowry and a pretty ornament on my arm. What a cad I was to think those things of her. I nod, and she leaves the bedroom in a whirlwind of ivory silks, closing the door behind her.
For a moment I can do nothing but stare at the ghost of her in the shuttered doorframe. Have I imagined her, or is this really happening? I am beginning to wonder if I died two weeks ago on the Deliverance from falling bits of wood and this is some kind of strange purgatory, testing me.
Shaking those thoughts from my head, I dig through the trunk until I find a pair of white stockings and breeches to match the jacket.
I make quick work of dressing and slide into the shoes I was wearing before, even if they are a little worn and a little snug.
After one deep breath, and a grumble of my stomach, I step out of the bedchamber and into the drawing room, where Kitty is sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea in her hand, watching the fire.
Not a dream, then.
I cross the room and bow to her properly, as I should have when she first entered the room. She is, after all, higher ranking than me—and a lady. I take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles, where someone else’s wedding ring gleams over her white glove.
“Who’s the lucky gentleman who won your heart?” I’m such a rake—it hadn’t occurred to me that she might have fancied someone other than myself.
She smiles a little wider as she watches me. “After you left, His Majesty was in such a rush to marry me off to save my reputation that he let me choose for myself,” she says. “I chose Francis Stuart.”
I remember Francis. A plain-looking chap, and a year younger than Kitty, but I recall him following her around like a lost puppy at social gatherings. “Your cousin Francis?” I clarify as I sit across from her.
“Yes.”
“He’s here?”
“He’s hunting with Norfolk and Sandringham.”
“Good time of year for it,” I say. Or so I hear. I have no idea, nor do I care.
“So they say,” she says, and once again I am charmed.
“And you’re here… sneaking into my bedchamber with tea and sandwiches.”
She laughs and sets her teacup down. “My lady’s maid knows the servants’ passages well. She sent for tea for her and me, then led me through to your rooms.”
“Scandalous.”
“Isn’t it just?” she agrees, laughing again.
I am at ease listening to the familiar sound of her laugh. I can remember now a time before I hated her, before my father announced his intent to marry us, when I would flirt with her and sneak into the garden with her at parties to steal a kiss under the moonlight.
Now she sits before me, round with another man’s child, and I love her more than I ever have. Her mere presence in these rooms is the one thing pulling my head above water.
“I’m so glad you came to see me,” I tell her, my voice softening. And then, as I watch her gaze at me, I feel, for the first time, a real sense of regret for abandoning her the way I did. “I wronged you so terribly. You should hate me.”
“Yes, many people have said that to me,” she says with a little nod, but she smiles down at her belly and strokes the delicate silk draped over it.
“But I don’t hate you, Kit. I’m happy. I love Francis…
and soon I’ll be a mother. I live in this beautiful palace, and after my lying-in, the king has seen fit to gift Francis the dukedom of Cambridge. ”
“Well, I suppose I did you a favor, then,” I say, and she laughs again.
“I suppose you did. Where did you go?” she asks. “Is it true you were kidnapped by pirates?”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Nothing quite so dashing,” I say softly.
“Will you tell me about it?”
I lift my teacup and stare into the steam as I consider how much I can safely tell her. I don’t know what happened to the Deliverance after I was taken. I don’t even know what happened to Renard after he betrayed me for ten thousand guineas. After he betrayed the crew… and my brave captain.
Damn this lump in my throat.
“I’ll tell you what I can,” I murmur. And after a long, fortifying sip, I set the cup down and brace myself to tell Kitty all that I can manage of my life for the last eight months without sobbing.