“Katherine?” Aunt Tabitha called out uncertainly. “Are you here? One of the servants said they saw you run out. They mentioned you appeared upset.”
“I’m over here,” Kitty said glumly.
The shoes shuffled closer. “Where?”
“Under the tree.”
“What do you mean you’re under the – my goodness. Look.” The branches rustled, and then Tabitha’s head popped through. She blinked at Kitty huddled beneath the trunk, before immediately dropping to her hands and knees and crawling in right beside her. “You weren’t jesting. You really are under a tree, aren’t you? But why on earth would you be – oh darling,” she murmured sympathetically when Kitty’s eyes filled with tears. “It’s as bad as all that, is it? Come here. Let your favorite Auntie fix everything.”
“You’re my only Auntie,” Kitty sniffled as she crawled into Tabitha’s arms and laid her head on her aunt’s lap. “And I’m afraid this is something you cannot fix.” Closing her eyes, she inwardly cringed as she recalled Byron’s parting words to her.
You aren’t the woman I would have chosen to marry….
You can have it all…
But not without cost…
She’d left right after that. He had still been speaking, but she’d been done listening. Kitty may have just spent half an hour bawling herself silly underneath an apple tree, but she was no one’s victim and she refused to allow herself to be verbally assaulted by a man with the emotional range of a turnip.
“Boy troubles, is it?” Tabitha asked, stroking Kitty’s hair.
“A duke, actually.”
“You future husband, I presume?”
Kitty sighed. “Not any longer. We made love in his study, and then we had an awful row. I don’t know if I ever want to speak to him again.”
Tabitha’s hand paused mid-stroke. “You made love?”
“In the study,” Kitty confirmed. “On a beautiful blue gray sofa. It was…perfect. Absolutely perfect. Better than anything I’d ever dreamed.” She opened one eye. “Your delicate sensibilities aren’t offended, are they?”
“Please,” Aunt Tabitha sniffed. “In my opinion women would do a fair sight better to speak of sexual relations more candidly. Perhaps then I would have known what to actually expect on my wedding night instead of being told to stare at the ceiling and recite poetry until it was over.” Her voice turned stern. “That being said, you are a lady and I do wish you would have waited until you were married, but what’s done is done.”
“He did ask me to marry him.” Kitty pulled at a loose thread on her aunt’s skirt as Tabitha let out a loud gasp.
“My dear!” she cried. “This is wonderful news. My little niece is going to be a duchess! Oh, I cannot wait to tell your mother and see her reaction when–”
“I did not accept.”
“You didn’t – you didn’t accept?” Tabitha sputtered. “Why – why not? You told me Wakefield was everything you’d ever wanted! He checked off every single box on your list. Is it because he has auburn hair? Honestly darling, this is no time for vanity–”
“It’s not because he has auburn hair,” Kitty interrupted. Sitting up, she shook a few leaves out of her curls before twisting the heavy mass into a thick braid and plopping it over her shoulder. “It’s not my favorite color, but it suits him.”
“Then what in heaven’s name is the issue?”
“It’s the way he proposed.”
“The way he…” Trailing off, Tabitha shook her head in bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”
Neither did Kitty. All of her life the only thing she’d wanted was an advantageous marriage to a wealthy, handsome man who would spoil her rotten. Marrying Byron would give her all of those things, and yet…
And yet.
“There was one thing I forgot to put on the list,” she whispered.
“An endless supply of crumpets to be delivered day or night?”
Despite the ache in her chest, Kitty couldn’t help but smile. “No, although I’ll be certain to add that in.” Her fingers smoothed a wrinkle on her dress as the ache deepened into a dull, painful throb. She’d never been shot with an arrow, but she imagined it felt very much like this. If the arrow was covered in rust and had lodged itself deep in the middle of her heart. “All of those things I thought I wanted, they were all superficial. It wasn’t until I met Byron that I realized what was most important of all.”
“Which is?” Aunt Tabitha prompted softly.
“To love, and be loved in return.” Kitty struggled to swallow past the enormous lump in her throat. “I fell in love with him, Auntie. I don’t know why. He can really be quite atrocious. But I did, and now it hurts to take a breath because he doesn’t love me in return.”
“Oh darling, I’m sure that isn’t true.” Tabitha squeezed Kitty’s cold hand in her warm one. “You’re wonderful. Beautiful, clever, and strong. Any man would be lucky to have you.”
Kitty swiped at a lone tear threatening to spill down her cheek. “Try telling Byron that.”
“But you said he proposed.”
“He did. Sort of,” she amended.
“How does a duke sort of propose?” Tabitha asked.
“It wasn’t so much a proposal as it was a consequence of losing my virginity. Or at least, that’s how he made it seem. He did not propose because he wanted to. He proposed because he felt he had to. He also made it abundantly clear that our marriage was not to be a love match.”
“I see,” Tabitha said slowly. “And that bothers you? After all, you’d be a duchess. You’d have the husband you always dreamt about. You’d have finally checked all the boxes on your list.”
“Hang the bloody list!” Kitty leapt to her feet, forgot she still hiding beneath a tree, and slammed her head into a low hanging branch. Releasing a flurry of very unladylike curses, she clutched her skull as she reeled out from under the apples. “It isn’t important,” she said through gritted teeth. “It was never important. Not really.”
“I’m relieved to finally hear you say so.” Emerging from the tree with much more grace than her niece, Tabitha clucked her tongue as she motioned for Kitty to bend down and gently touched the lump rapidly forming on the very top of her head. “That is definitely going to leave a mark, but your hair will cover it. Let’s go inside and see if there’s something cold we can use to reduce the swelling.”
But as Kitty followed her aunt back to the manor, it wasn’t the pain in her head that concerned her.
It was the pain in her heart.
“What happened?” Margaret gasped when she passed the kitchen and saw Kitty sitting on a stool with a wet rag in one hand and a ginger biscuit in the other.
Smiling wanly at Byron’s youngest sister, Kitty tossed the rag onto a nearby table and leaned against the wall. “I hit my head on a branch. It’s worse than it looks,” she insisted when Margaret’s hand flew to her mouth. “Plus I get all the sweets I want. Would you care for one?”
Margaret nodded.
“Are these from the musicale?” she asked before she took a small bite.
“My aunt stole them. She’s gone off to get some more.” Kitty tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “How was the musicale? Did you sing as well?”
“Me?” Margaret’s eyes widened. “Goodness, no. I can’t carry a tune, nor would I want to even if I could. Madeline is the performer of the family. She has a beautiful voice. Mary accompanied her on the pianoforte. It was lovely.”
“I am sorry I missed it.”
“Yes, I noticed you were not there. Neither was Byron.” Margaret hesitated. “Would it be terribly presumptuous of me to assume you were together?”
Yes, we were together. We were together in every sense of the word. But now we’re not, because your brother is an obstinate swain who deserves a good kick in the arse. And I deserve one as well for being foolish enough to think I could change him. Instead I have a knot on my head the size of a small country which is penance enough, I suppos
e. I just hope it doesn’t cause any wrinkles.
…was what Kitty wanted to say.
“No,” she said instead, and left it at that.
“I see.” Margaret’s expression brightened. “Has our plan worked, then? Do you think the two of you are…going…to…oh,” she stammered when Kitty shook her head. “I-I see. That’s unfortunate. We – my sisters and I – really thought this was it.”
“So did I,” Kitty said quietly.
“Might I ask what happened?”
While Kitty had gone into full details with her aunt, she was loathe to do the same with Byron’s sister. Mostly because she was his sister and a little bit because Margaret’s sensibilities seemed very sensitive indeed and she didn’t want to shock the poor girl.
“As it turns out, we both want different things from marriage. And while we are very compatible in some areas” – to put it mildly – “there are others which we do not see eye to eye at all.”
Margaret nibbled her bottom lip. “Byron has always been…slow to show his emotions.”
Kitty snorted. “You can certainly say that again.”
“But it isn’t his fault,” Margaret said in a rush. “Our father was…well, that is to say…he wasn’t kind to our brother.
“Father’s often aren’t.” Kitty could count on one hand the number of times her father had displayed any type of paternal affection. The same could be said for her mother, but then such relationships were not unusual, particularly in the ton where children were raised by their governess and boarding schools were always heavily attended. She was sorry to hear Byron’s father had been of a similar demeanor, but it was hardly an excuse for his behavior or the things he’d said to her.
I suppose I have to marry you now, don’t I?
Have to…
Have to…
Have to…
“No, you don’t understand.” Twisting her hands together, Margaret shot a quick glance at the door. It had swung closed behind her when she’d stepped inside and it was closed still, Aunt Tabitha having apparently either passed out after gorging herself on too many ginger cookies or gotten lost on her way back to the kitchen.
“Please don’t repeat what I am about to tell you.” Margaret’s cheeks flushed with color. “I wouldn’t say anything at all, but I can see how miserable you are and I know in my heart you and Byron are meant to be together. Mary and Madeline believe the same.”
Kitty wasn’t so certain. “How do you know? Has he spoken about me?”
“Not a word,” Margaret said, and Kitty’s stomach immediately sank all the way to her toes. “But that’s how we know,” she went on. “He’s never gone out of his way to not talk about a woman before. Yet every time we try to bring your name up in conversation he always changes the subject.”
“That’s because he doesn’t like me.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Why, just yesterday Maddy and I were discussing the cut of the gown you wore to dinner the night before. Simply beautiful, by the way.”
“Thank you. It’s French.”
“Byron was walking past and when he heard your name he immediately veered into the room and hung on our every word until we left. He pretended it was because he was looking for a certain piece of furniture to move into his study, but Madeline and I know it was really because he wants to know absolutely everything there is to know about you.”
“He could just ask,” Kitty pointed out, unconvinced.
“He could, but it’s always been difficult for By to form any kind of relationship with someone outside of the family. The only friend he has is the Duke of Glenmoore and they’re at each other’s throats more often than not.” Margaret spread her hands helplessly. “You may not have noticed, but he’s not the most friendly fellow.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Kitty said dryly.
“Which is why it’s so extraordinary that he’s taken a liking to you. Because, well, to be perfectly blunt…Byron doesn’t like anyone. You see…” Margaret trailed off, looking uneasy. “Do you promise not to stay a word?”
“I promise,” Kitty said, ears pricking as she slid to the edge of her seat.
“I do not want to reveal too much.” Her flush deepening, Margaret pressed a closed fist to her lips and spoke through her knuckles. “It isn’t my place to say, or my story to tell. But you should know…you should know our father was a monster. There’s no other word for it. And Byron is the way he is because of what he was forced to endure.”
“I see.” Something rolled unpleasantly inside of Kitty’s belly, reminding her of the time she’d gotten sick after eating oysters that had sat out in the sun at a picnic.
She’d long suspected there was something in Byron’s past that had crippled his emotional capacity to love in the present, but she had imagined his coldness stemmed from a mistress who had left him or perhaps even a jilted fiancée. She never thought abuse was to blame.
Especially abuse from his own father.
“You cannot tell him I told you,” Margaret said.
“I won’t. I…I should go upstairs. To rest.” And to think, she added silently. Ten minutes ago she’d had every intention of packing up her belongings and returning to Glenmoore. She knew when she wasn’t wanted, and she wasn’t about to embarrass herself by overstaying her welcome. Not that she’d ever been welcomed by Byron in the first place. But Margaret’s revelation changed things, and knowing what she knew now she couldn’t leave without seeing Byron at least one more time.
“Will you still be going to the ball?” Margaret asked.
Kitty blinked. “The ball?”
“Tomorrow evening. It’s the last grand event of the house party.” Margaret’s fair brow creased. “Don’t you remember?”
To be honest, she’d quite forgotten all about it. After Byron’s scathing speech a dance hardly seemed significant. But now it took on an entirely new meaning. After all, if a tumultuous romance didn’t end with a grand ball, was it even a romance at all?
“Oh, I’ll be there.” Kitty’s mouth curved. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you doing?” Barging into her brother’s private chambers without so much as a courtesy knock, Mary stood with her elbows akimbo and a scowl on her face. Byron flicked a glance at her over the top of the book he was reading – well, pretending to read – before looking back down.
“What are you doing?” he countered as he turned the page. “And why the devil is it so hard for you and your sisters to announce your arrival? I could have been busy, you know.”
“Yes, you appear quite busy moping about in a dark room with the curtains drawn.” Marching up to him, she snatched the book out of his hands. “Twenty-Seven Species of Beetles and Their Practical Medicinal Uses in Modern Times.” Her eyes rolled. “What an utterly fascinating life you lead. I can see now that you’re clearly very busy. Shall I leave you to it, then?”
“Yes,” he snapped, trying – and failing – to grab the book back. “You should.”
Why was everyone suddenly concerned about the way he conducted his life? First Kitty, now Mary. If he wanted to read about beetles in the comforting darkness of his own bedchamber he should bloody well be able to. Not that he’d been doing much reading. Try as he might, every time he attempted to focus on the words all he could see was Kitty. Her elegant countenance. Her glittering gray eyes. Her impertinent little nose. Her full lips twisted in a smirk.
Who knew a smirk could be so damned enticing?
And who knew he’d miss it so much?
A day and a half. That was how much time had gone by since Kitty had fled from his study. Less than thirty-six hours since he’d heard her laughter. Since he’d tasted her lips. Since he’d asked her to marry him…and she’d run away.
Admittedly, he hadn’t so much asked as demanded. And he hadn’t demanded so much as…well, suffice it to say she’d been right to leave him. He had acted like a complete and total arse. But there was one thing
she’d gotten completely wrong.
He had not made the proposal out of obligation.
He’d made it out necessity.
When Kitty refused his suit, he panicked. Which had caused him to react unfavorably. That, and her incessant questions about a past he didn’t want to remember, let alone relive. But he’d had a lot of time to think since then, and he had come to two uncomfortable conclusions.
The first, he needed to stop hiding from the past. His father had been dead for nearly fifteen years, but he was still controlling Byron as much as he had when he was alive. It was time he faced his demons instead of burying them. Time he came to terms with what had happened to him, then moved on once and for all.
As to the second conclusion…
He loved Lady Katherine Dower.
Had been in love with her, he suspected, from the very first. He’d just been too stubborn to admit it to himself. But now he had, and it was…terrifying, he admitted. It was absolutely terrifying. Because he’d never wanted to fall in love. Except that wasn’t completely true, was it? The truth was that he had never thought himself deserving of love.
Until Kitty.
Kitty, with her sarcastic quips and passionate kisses and endless chatter (which he’d been desperately missing these past thirty-six hours, though he’d never tell her as much), had forced him to look deep down inside. And he hadn’t liked what he’d seen.
The boards weren’t just rotting.
They were rotten.
And if he didn’t change something soon, he would never be able to claw his way up out of the pit. Which meant he needed to speak with Kitty. He didn’t know what he would say, but he needed to speak with her. And he would, as soon as this farce of a house party had reached its conclusion.
“The ball started hours ago.” Mary lifted her gown for emphasis. “I take it you’re not going?”
“What gave you that impression?” he asked with a purposeful glance down at his partially unbuttoned shirt and breeches, still dusty from a late afternoon ride.
The Autumn Duke (A Duke for All Seasons Book 4) Page 10
