28. The Last Waltz #2
Kate gave her a quick last kiss and stood, smoothing her skirts and her hair. She paused there for a moment, looking down at Gina with an expression that was equal parts tenderness and desire.
She sighed heavily one more time, and moved toward the door.
“Kate?” Gina called after her.
Kate turned back. Waiting.
“Thank you. For everything. For being here. For—” Gina gestured helplessly, unable to articulate the depth of what Kate’s presence, her care, her love meant.
Kate crossed back to the bed in three quick steps. She leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Gina’s forehead. “I’m your wife,” she said softly. “I’ll always be by your side. Nothing can prevent me from that now.”
Then she walked back to the doorway, slipping out into the corridor and closing the door quietly behind her.
Gina lay back against the pillows, her shoulder throbbing slightly despite the salve and fresh bandaging. But the pain was distant, unimportant compared to the warmth spreading through her chest.
* * *
The evening of the ball arrived with unseasonable warmth, the kind of late-season heat that made London’s grand houses feel stifling despite the open windows.
In Kate’s chamber, Jane moved around her mistress, fastening the tiny buttons that ran down the back of her gown, a purple silk that caught the lamplight, making it glow incandescently.
The red matched the carmine of her lips and contrasted beautifully with her black hair, which Jane had arranged in long ringlets over her shoulders—an outfit and a hairstyle that spoke volumes about their wearer’s state of mind.
Kate stood before the mirror, watching her reflection distractedly. Her mind was elsewhere, running through the evening ahead, perhaps, or better, anticipating what her body was desperately craving.
The ball itself was already quite anticipated, as it would be packed with ladies and gentlemen from all over.
The highest echelons of society would attend Lady Rutledge’s final event of the season, of course.
And all of them would be watching Mr. and Mrs. Moore-Sullivan, waiting to see how the couple who’d been touched by scandal would comport themselves.
“There, ma’am,” Jane said, stepping back to admire her work. “You look stunning.”
Kate focused her gaze on her own reflection in the mirror and was amazed by what she saw.
The dress was one of her finest; the color accentuated the black of her eyes, and the cut enhanced her figure in an elegant way that bordered on daring.
Her hair also featured small pearls interspersed among its dark strands, giving it an even more striking touch.
A worthy disciple of Lady Rutledge, no doubt.
Kate smiled at her own private joke. If Lady Rutledge, or all of London’s high society, knew that she was far more than the wife of a successful, high-born merchant…
She was, in truth, a woman’s wife, something no one could ever know.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. Mary entered without waiting for permission, carrying a velvet case that Kate recognized as containing her mother’s jewelry.
“I thought you might wear these tonight,” Mary said, opening the case to reveal a necklace and matching ear bobs—ruby encased in silver, family pieces that Kate rarely wore.
“They are too much,” Kate said automatically.
“They’re exactly right.” Mary lifted the necklace, moving behind Kate to fasten it. “You’re making a statement tonight. That Mr. and Mrs. Moore-Sullivan are unaffected by gossip. That you’re still one of the most prominent couples in London. These say that without speaking a word.”
Kate touched the stones at her throat, feeling their cool weight. “You sound like you’re preparing me for battle.”
“Aren’t I?” Mary’s eyes met Kate’s in the mirror. “Society can be crueler than any duel, ma’am. At least with pistols, you know where the shot is coming from.”
“A fair point,” Kate conceded, admiring the sparkle of the rubies in her throat.
Jane had tactfully withdrawn to the dressing room, giving them privacy. Mary took advantage of it, her voice dropping lower.
“How is our patient?”
“Nervous. But ready.” Kate adjusted one of the ear bobs. “The shoulder is healing well. It won’t impede movement.”
Mary’s expression softened with a knowing smile. “Good. I see she already prefers your company to mine these days.”
Kate’s response came immediately, almost defensive. “Well, she’s been confined to her chamber, and I’m the one tending her wound, so naturally—” She stopped, catching the teasing glint in Mary’s eyes. A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Immensely, ma’am.” Mary’s smile widened. “It’s gratifying to see her finally get what she’s always deserved.”
Kate felt warmth bloom in her chest at the simple acceptance in Mary’s words. Something that still astonished her beyond measure.
She turned back to the mirror, toying with the ruby necklace.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said carefully, her voice tentative in a way it rarely was. “About… future plans. Not immediately, of course, but eventually.”
Mary’s hands stopped on Kate’s shoulders as she adjusted her sleeves, her attention sharpening though she said nothing, waiting.
“What would you think,” Kate continued, “about expanding operations to the continent? Establishing a stronger presence in European markets—France, perhaps, or Italy. Somewhere we could build… a different kind of life.”
The words were innocuous enough for any servant who might overhear. But Mary understood immediately what was really being said.
“That would be… significant,” Mary said slowly. “A major undertaking.”
“It would.” Kate met Mary’s eyes in the mirror. “New headquarters would need to be established. Someone would need to remain in London to oversee operations here. To maintain the main offices running.”
“I see.” Mary’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. “And you’ve thought about who that someone might be?”
Kate’s expression grew more animated, her planning instincts taking over.
“Vikram. He’s brilliant with numbers, and he absorbs everything about the business like a sponge.
In a few years, with proper training, he could manage the London operations.
He’d need guidance, of course. Someone experienced to oversee him, to ensure he doesn’t make costly mistakes, to maintain the household and Mr. Moore-Sullivan’s reputation while we’re… ”
She trailed off, but the implication was clear.
Mary’s eyebrows rose slightly. “While you’re traveling. Expanding to new markets.”
“Yes.” Kate’s voice grew stronger, more certain as the vision took shape.
“We could establish ourselves elsewhere—France, Italy, somewhere we could be more… open. Build new ventures, new partnerships. But London would still need management. The shipping offices, the contracts, the properties. Vikram could handle the daily operations, but he’d need someone he trusts.
Someone who understands the full picture. ”
“Someone to protect him,” Mary added, understanding perfectly who that someone might be. “To guide him. To maintain Mr. Moore-Sullivan’s presence even in his absence.”
“Exactly.” Kate turned to face Mary fully.
“You wouldn’t just be managing a household.
You’d be protecting Vikram the way you’ve protected…
Jason… all these years. Teaching him, helping him navigate society, ensuring he has the support he needs.
And maintaining the fiction that Mr. Moore-Sullivan is simply away on extended business ventures. ”
Mary was quiet for a long moment, thinking. “The boy does remind me of… Jason… at that age. Brilliant, determined, desperate for a place in the world.”
“He deserves that chance. And you’re the only person I would trust to give it to him.”
Jane interrupted them with a clearing of her throat as she returned to the room, carrying Kate’s gloves and fan.
“Mr. Moore-Sullivan is downstairs, ma’am. He asked me to tell you he’ll be waiting in the drawing room when you’re ready.”
Kate drew in a steadying breath, forcing herself to shake the thoughts of the future from her mind at this moment. They will have time to plan the years to come now.
“Thanks, Jane. Tell him I’ll be down presently.”
Jane curtsied and left.
Kate took one final look in the mirror, where her eyes met Mary’s with more meaning than any word.
They both smiled at the same time.
Then Kate gathered her skirts and made her way downstairs.
Jason was standing at the window inside the drawing room, his back to the door, hands clasped behind him as he gazed out at the darkening street.
He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black tailcoat, a neatly knotted white tie, dark trousers, and polished shoes, completing the picture of a gentleman preparing for a social event.
Kate entered the room silently and stopped a few steps away, gazing at him in rapt attention. The image of Gina dressed as a man never ceased to amaze her, stirring parts of her body she preferred to keep quiet for later.
The binding was in place beneath his clothing, Kate knew.
She’d helped put it on before getting dressed herself, learning the technique from Gina’s patient instruction.
Learning how to wrap the fabric just so, how to secure it without making it too tight, how to create the illusion of a masculine chest where there wasn’t one.
It had been intimate in a different way than any other intimacy between them so far.
This act of transformation, of protection, had been both torture and pleasure as Kate’s hands learned the ritual that had kept Gina safe for a decade.
Making herself part of the deception that allowed them to be together in society.
Jason turned around, sensing her presence and her gaze fixed upon him.