Chapter 14 #2
Greyhold sighed. “I’d feared you’d say that. We had a good run of it as rogues together.”
A cold smile touched Kerr’s lips. What kind of privateer would he be if he didn’t claim what he wanted?
Andromena.
Kerr headed for the Duke and Duchess of Aragon’s head table to find her and tell her…
I love her…
His breath vanished. His momentum stopped dead. A frigate-sized impact hurled Kerr into the air, sending him down hard onto his hands and knees.
“Christ, Kerr! So sorry.”
I love her.
“I knocked you down good…”
I love her beyond reason—for him, there was none with her.
“…Didn’t hit your head, did you…?”
I love her beyond measure.
No part of him could not and did not love her.
He had fought it so long, ever since that snowy day by Ermine Street. He didn’t just want her; he ached for her.
No one else ever challenged him the way she did.
She made him want to be a better man—for her.
She had brought his life back, teaching him to feel without fear.
With her, the crushing weight of loneliness had vanished.
She pulled him into the light, forcing him to breathe, to ache, and to live again—if he had ever truly lived before her.
“…You can’t convince me you are unworthy of love—you’re worthy. Or that you’re damaged—you’re not…”
Why had he fought this long?
A hand fell in front of his face. “Kerr!”
Greyhold hauled him up like he weighed no more than a small lad and set him on his feet.
In a reversal of roles, little brother cleaned his big brother up; dusted Kerr’s sleeves, straightened his cravat, smoothed his lapels. “Are you all, right?” he asked, patting his arm several times. “You took quite the fall, big brother.”
Kerr laughed quietly. “You have no idea.”
A ghost of a smile touched Greyhold’s mouth. “I think I do.” He squeezed his shoulder. A moment passed between them. The marquess had never met Kerr’s father, but he knew about Kerr’s life before their parents married. “Glad you’ve let yourself be happy, but I’m going to miss carousing with you.”
Not Kerr.
As they returned to the ballroom, the surging volume of couples’ clapping through the turns of a Scottish reel and the chatter of the London elite rose to greet them.
With each step closer to her, the heavy void in his chest dissolved. He was entirely hers.
Kerr passed beneath cascading crystal, chandeliers, marveling at how he had spent years too blind to see—he believed himself powerful.
It had taken Andromena. She forced his eyes open, laying bare every cowardice he tried to hide.
Maybe that was why he had missed the truth between them—and why he had fought a love he was too afraid to name—until now.
Tonight, he would make amends. In the middle of the London Season’s loudest ballroom, he would drop to his knees and beg the only person he had ever bowed to for her hand.
Alas, it would have to wait a moment longer.
Kerr approached the head McQuoid dining table; the family kept up their reputation as an ‘odd lot.’ Not a single member of the Scottish clan was present but for two—and not even both of them McQuoids.
Per his usual, the Earl of Abington sat at the head of the table, a large glass of wine in one hand and a newspaper in his other.
“If this is not permission to leave, I’m not sure what the hell—”
Kerr silenced his brother with a single look. He returned his attention to the only other remaining guest.
Kilmartin.
Smugly smiling, with a glass in hand, sprawled in the chair next to the earl like some favored son-in-law, Kilmartin toasted Kerr.
“Apologies, Kerr. All the McQuoid and Smith ladies are called for. Find an antechamber.”
“Drove them all away, did you?”
The tight smile he turned on Kilmartin didn’t meet his eyes.
Greyhold rested a hand on his taut shoulder. “Easy, big brother,” he said quietly.
Realizing she had just given him her heart left him with a smug victory over his rival.
Kerr stopped beside the earl’s chair. “Lord Abington?”
Paper rustled. “Hmm?”
“It is Kerr. I’m helping you locate your missing arti—”
Abington’s copy of The Times made a swift descent. “Why, didn’t you say that, lad? Sit-Sit.”
He prayed for patience.
“No. I’m not here to discuss any new leads,” None, he had none. Nothing more than servants sending him back to the Antiquities Room ad nauseum. “I am looking for your niece.”
“Which one? I’ve got three of them.”
Which one? Perhaps the only accurate answer the dotty fellow had given in his life.
“At least, three here. My others can’t be bothered with London. Can’t say how many in total now. Big family.”
Kerr swallowed his impatience. “Miss Smith.”
That assumption meant Abington knew which of his London-Scottish McQuoid-Smith nieces wasn’t married.
“Andromena,” Kerr clarified.
“Can’t say.” The paper went back up. “No one can.”
A whisper nearly lost in the turning of Abington’s page.
No one can.
A cold weight dropped in his stomach.
Even Kilmartin straightened.
Andromena.
Kerr gave his head a clearing shake. The earl couldn’t be that casual about her life.
Her jaunt in the Rookeries, New Bond Street, and Ermine Street proved otherwise.
Kerr sank to his haunches. “Can you tell me where Andromena is, Lord Abington?”
Kilmartin’s smile had vanished.
“I’m afraid I can’t. As I said,” the earl continued in his shockingly reserved whisper. “Was asked to stay here and keep up appearances.”
Appearances? That’s what they gave a damn about.
Kerr nudged Abington’s paper down.
The skin around the earl’s mouth looked carved from dry bone, turning the room suddenly airless.
“Where is the meeting?” He forced his tongue to form the words slowly.
“My boy Aragon’s, off—”
Kerr stood. Years of suffering through gatherings with the McQuoid and Smith families finally paid off.
Panic fueled his steps.
I did this…I ran her off…
She had given him all the ocean’s treasures combined, and he’d left her adrift.
His legs moved faster than his mind.
At his side, Greyhold waited to speak until they cleared the ballroom and reached the duke and duchess’s main living quarters. “What do you need?”
“Check the gardens first, and then the alcoves.”
“I’ll keep an eye on Kilmartin,” his brother said.
“Kilmartin isn’t a concern.” He clenched his jaw. “Get him to help us find her.”
Greyhold tore the other way.
Kerr had no pride left where Andromena was concerned. He would humble himself before the Tremaines, Ellsbys, and McQuoids if it meant she was safe. He was the one who had hurt her, the one who drove her away. Now, he would spend the rest of his days atoning for those sins.
Kerr reached Aragon’s office and assessed the scene outside: four bewigged footmen: one on either side of Aragon’s office and another pair adjacent.
He grabbed the cast-brass knob and turned. “I’m with Lady Culross.”
“My lord, you cannot—”
Kerr let himself in. He scoured the crowded office for the only person he gave a rat’s arse about, praying she was here and that she had been found.
His shoulders sloped. “She is not here?”