by Vikki Vaught
Taking control, the duchess rose. “Yes, gentlemen, we do need to take our leave. I’m sure we shall see you this evening at Lady Richard’s ball. Good day.” Rising from her seat, she turned to Kathleen. “Come, my dear.”
She immediately stood and together, they left Gunter’s. “Thank goodness, we’re finally away from those gentlemen. I wish we’d never gone there. Now, I have to go for a drive with Mr. Mandrake.”
After getting in the carriage, the duchess huffed. “I’m appalled at his poor manners. He should never have asked me before so many others. I don’t know what he was thinking. He must be completely smitten to forget how to behave properly. I wanted to give him a proper set down, but I did not want to embarrass him. I am sorry, Kathleen.”
Kathleen stroked her hand across her forehead, as if she were going to faint, then giggled. “I don’t know how I shall bear it. All he does is make sheep’s eyes at me and recite his terrible poetry.”
In good humor, the duchess laughed at her antics as she signaled to the driver. “Look at it as a chance to see Hyde Park from a different view. After all, you did say you had never ridden in a high perch phaeton. Kathleen, aside from his deplorable lack of judgment, he is actually a nice young man. Besides, it will give you something to do tomorrow.”
Kathleen squirmed and fidgeted with the ribbons on her bonnet, then eventually settled back against the tufted seat. “I’ll attempt to enjoy it. I do want to ride in his phaeton. I can always enjoy the beautiful scenery.”
The following afternoon, the drive with Mr. Mandrake was progressing much better than she had expected. So far, he had refrained from reciting any of his poetry, much to her relief. Hyde Park was coming into full bloom, and what a glorious sight to behold. As they meandered through the park, a profusion of colorful flowers lined the pathways, where couples strolled amidst the hydrangea, larkspur, and asters.
While in the park, they ran into several people they both knew; conversing with them helped pass the time. When Mr. Mandrake escorted her home, he walked her to the door, and then bade her a polite good day, assuring her that she would see him that evening at the opera.
The next few days either went by as fast as prime horseflesh in a race to Brighton or as slow as a turtle trying to outrun a hare, depending on what diversions each day brought. At last, the day of her come-out ball arrived. While eating her breakfast that morning, a footman brought in a letter from her brother. Wanting to read it in private, she finished her meal and went to her bedchamber. Sitting at the French desk in her room, she opened it.
Dear Kathleen,
I have wonderful news. Anissa safely delivered a son. Both she and the babe are doing well. I must tell you it pulled on my nerves while she labored to bring forth our son into the world. We decided to name the baby after our fathers, so we will call him Anthony Edward Hawks. He has a healthy set of lungs on him and keeps us up most of the night. Thank the good Lord he looks like my beautiful wife instead of me. While he keeps his eyes shut most of the time, at present they are dark blue. Ma says we will need to wait a couple of months before we will know the true color. Of course, she is overjoyed with another grandchild to fuss over. From what she said, Anissa had an easy time of it. I am grateful she was here to help during the birthing. Her presence and constant support kept me from pulling out my hair. She sends her love, and we hope you are having a lovely time in London. I need to get back to my wife and our son. Take care of yourself, and we will see you the end of May.
With love,
Alex
Kathleen closed the letter and sighed. She wished she could be with them, but with her ball that night, there was no way she could. The duchess had gone to great effort to ensure it was a success, and most of the guests had accepted their invitation. She hated to think of the cost the duke incurred at her expense, but her grace assured her they would have given a ball anyway, which eased her conscience. The English certainly put great stock in their entertainments.
Before Kathleen went downstairs to join the duke and duchess, she paused to look at her reflection in the pier glass. The pale, saffron yellow, silk gown looked lovely— yellow being one of her favorite colors—and the strand of pearls Alex had given her for her eighteenth birthday added the perfect touch.
She wished her mother could see her little girl all grown up and looking so fine. A tremor shot through her. This was a night most young ladies longed to experience. She needed to be grateful and enjoy it. After all, a girl only had one come-out ball. The clock in the hall chimed seven times, so she turned and made her way to the drawing room.
When she entered, the duke and his duchess stood in front of the marble mantel. Her grace came forward with outstretched hands and took Kathleen’s in her own. “Oh, my dear, you look ravishing tonight. You shall be the belle of the ball, as it should be. After all, this is your special night. All the gentlemen will not want to leave your side. Our drawing room will become a flower shop again tomorrow.”
The duchess was probably right. While she was far from vain, even she could see her gown accentuated her curves and enhanced the color of her eyes. “Thank you. You look lovely as well. I want to let you both know how much I appreciate everything you are doing for me.”
“It is no problem, my dear. In fact, I truly enjoyed myself. Planning balls and galas always gives me great pleasure.”
Before Kathleen had a chance to reply, the butler announced the guests invited to dine. Once everyone invited for dinner had arrived, His Grace led them to the dining room. While the meal tasted superb as usual, her excitement kept her from eating very much. After the guests finished eating, the duke led the way to the receiving room, and the rest of the guests started arriving. She curtsied to more lords and ladies than she could have imagined. It seemed to go on forever. Thankfully, by half past nine, most of the guests had arrived and the receiving line dispersed. His Grace escorted them to the ballroom, where he led her into the first quadrille of the night.
Dozens of couples joined them as they lined up, waiting for the music to start. Kathleen marveled at the courtly sight as the gentlemen bowed and the ladies curtsied in return. A bevy of young ladies in a rainbow of pastel gowns flitted down the center of the ballroom with their dancing companions.
Mr. Mandrake had not left her side all evening, constantly hovering near her and glaring at any other gentleman who asked her to dance. He had become more than a nuisance since their drive. His proprietorial attitude had her nerves jumping at the slightest gesture.
When the time arrived for her dance with Mr. Mandrake, she reluctantly accepted his hand, and he led her to the floor. They took their places, waiting for the music to begin. The violinists drew their bows across the strings and the dancing began. They stepped toward each other and the man stamped on her foot. Pain radiated across her toes.
“Sorry,” he told her. “I apologize, didn’t mean to do that. I hope you can forgive me.”
Gritting her teeth to help bear the pain, she replied, “Certainly. I’m sure it was an accident.”
Mr. Mandrake clasped her hand in his sweaty palm as they moved down the center of the line of dancers. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“I am. It’s so nice of the duke and duchess to sponsor me.”
They moved apart at the end of the line, giving Kathleen a chance to recover from her smashed toes. When it was their turn to promenade again, Mr. Mandrake squeezed her hand tighter than before. “I want to introduce you to my parents before we go into supper. Now that I’m courting you, I want you to meet them.”
She did not want to be courted by Mr. Mandrake. She was desperate to have a few moments alone. When the music ended, he started toward a middle-aged couple standing across the dance floor. She needed to leave before he could introduce her.
Pretending to trip, she said, “Oh, dear, I caught my hem. Please excuse me, I need to go to my room so my maid can fix it.”
Before Mr. Mandrake could speak, she hurried away toward the entry hall and lef
t the ballroom. Instead of going upstairs, she went to the library. Slipping inside the door of the darkened room, she relaxed her tense shoulders and sighed. Free at last of the annoying man.
After Kathleen took a few steps forward, a pair of strong arms pulled her back against a rock-hard, very male body. Her breath caught, as a male voice whispered in a rough voice, “Ah, my sweet. I thought you had changed your mind.”
The man turned her around and before she had a chance to protest, he swooped in and devoured her lips. A jolt of lightning shot through her and she gasped, giving him an opportunity to slip his tongue into the dark cavern of her mouth. At first, she was too aghast to stop him, but as she became lost in his devastating kiss, a sensual storm of sensations swept through her, stronger than any she had felt before.
His soft, yet firm lips ravished hers as his hand cupped the orb of her breast. Shocked, the rapid beat of her heart set her pulse racing. He nibbled his way across her jaw to her neck and licked a spot below her earlobe, sending tingles through her that had her senses reeling.
“Ah, so sweet,” he murmured. She remained in a trance as his lips burned a trail from her neck to her shoulder. She lost herself in his embrace until a cool breeze touched her back.
Good Lord. He had unbuttoned her gown. It finally sank in that she was allowing a complete stranger to kiss and touch her in ways most scandalous, ways she should never permit. All she’d ever experienced before was a brief kiss from William, on the night Alex gave his permission for them to become engaged.
She was supposed to love William, and yet she was letting this stranger take liberties with her person. Appalled, she started to pull away. Before she extricated herself from his arms, the library door opened and a footman entered carrying a candelabrum, illuminating the room. Standing behind the footman was the Duchess of Brentwood and several other ladies and gentlemen of the ton.
Gasping, Kathleen looked up into the startling blue eyes belonging to…Baron Billingsley. With a look of horror on his startled face, he released her and stepped back. The Duchess of Brentwood gave them a scathing look. “Well, I never! I’m not surprised to see you, Lord Billingsley, but I didn’t think even you could sink so low as to dally with a young debutante. I hope you realize this young lady is under the protection of the Duke of Barrington. We shall see what he thinks of you ruining a woman under his care.”
Before either of them had a chance to say a word, the duchess turned around and swept from the library, taking her friends with her. Oh, good Lord, why did it have to be that woman of all people?
Turning her back to the baron, Kathleen struggled to refasten her gown. He brushed her hands away. “Here, let me.”
She stood still as a statue while he did up her buttons. Once her gown was in place, she dropped to the sofa. What she had allowed to happen overwhelmed her. She was a woman betrothed to another man, yet she had permitted this man—this rake—to kiss and touch her. The worst part…she had enjoyed it.
Anguished, she moaned. “Oh, Lord, what have I done?”
Lord Billingsley knelt before her and grabbed her hand. When she tried to pull it away, he tightened his grip. “You haven’t done anything. The fault is mine. Albeit, it’s too late to worry over that now. We must act quickly. You do realize the Duchess of Brentwood salivates over gossip? She is telling everyone of our disgrace as we speak. This is going to be a huge scandal. I had best return you to your chaperone.”
He tried to steady her as she stood, but she brushed past him, intent on getting away from him as fast as possible. “I shall return to Her Grace on my own.”
Grabbing her arm, he turned her to face him. “I’m not any happier than you are over this. However, we need to present a unified front to the ton. For what it’s worth, I had no idea it was you I kissed. I thought you were someone else I was supposed to meet here in the library. I deeply regret my deplorable actions.”
She pulled away, then hissed. “How could you mistake me for Lady Holcombe? She’s taller and more…endowed than I.”
“It was dark in here,” he retorted, “and to be truthful, I enjoyed our embrace so much, I never questioned it. In hindsight, I should have known immediately you were not the lady I planned to meet. We don’t have time to discuss this. We must return to the ballroom posthaste.”
When he offered her his arm this time, she grudgingly accepted. She would have to trust he understood society better than she.
When they entered the ballroom, all eyes were upon them as the baron escorted her across the room to the duke and duchess. Women were gathered in groups whispering. The men wore knowing looks, inclining their heads as they glanced at Lord Billingsley as if in salute. Kathleen wished the floor would open and swallow her whole. The duke’s ice blue eyes were terrifying, as he looked directly at the baron. They came to a stop in front of her chaperones. She looked at the floor, because she didn’t want to see the disappointment in the duchess’s eyes.
His Grace spoke first. “Billingsley. I will expect you at Chilton House at the nine o’clock hour tomorrow morning. You know what is expected of you. I need not say more. Now, excuse us, Miss Hawks needs to retire.”
Kathleen quietly left with the duchess. On the way to her room, silence prevailed. Shame kept her from speaking, and Her Grace appeared to be at a loss as well.
Once they were at her chamber, she murmured, “I’m sorry for causing this trouble.” Her voice broke as she turned around and ran through her door, slamming it behind her. When she noticed her maid, she stiffened, not wanting to show any emotion in front of the servant.
As soon as Louise unbuttoned her gown, Kathleen sent her away and finished getting ready for bed. It felt as if she was the star performer in a very bad play. She kept expecting to wake up, but unfortunately, it wasn’t a dream. Her life had changed irrevocably. She would leave England in disgrace, and how could she face William when she arrived back in America?
Oh, why didn’t she stop him at the first kiss? She should have slapped his face and left the library immediately. The baron was just doing what he did best, seducing women. He had not even realized she wasn’t the woman he’d planned to meet.
If she had stopped him, then the Duchess of Brentwood would never have caught them in that torrid embrace. Of all women to walk in on them, did it have to be the one woman in England who had a grudge against her sister-in-law? That woman’s hatred of Anissa went back to her marriage to her first husband. Evidently, there had been discussion at one time of a union between the late marquess and the woman’s daughter, but that came to an end when he met Anissa. Now the duchess detested anyone connected to her.
Not being a young woman easily brought to tears, she climbed into bed. Her body reacted in other ways. She broke out in a cold sweat and her arms prickled. Her heart raced as she remembered.
How could I betray William?
Am I a wanton like Alex’s first wife, Pamela?
Her brother’s first wife had been a terrible strumpet, taking different men to her bed as soon as Alex left on his ship. Although Kathleen had been young, she’d overheard the servants talking. At the time she had not known what a strumpet was, then as she matured she understood. Never would she have thought she could turn out like Pamela, but what other explanation was there? The fact remained. She gave into that man’s devilish kisses. She tossed and turned for a long time before at last succumbing to sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
After the duchess disappeared with Kathleen, Andrew departed for his club where he spent the remainder of the evening and well into the early morning hours trying to drink away what he had done. It did not work. He seemed to be immune to the whiskey. By the time he made it home, it would be time to dress for his meeting with the duke. This was one morning call he did not look forward to at all.
After entering his carriage, he slumped against the tufted seat of his town coach as he castigated himself over and over again for being such a fool. While ramming his heel against the seat on the other side of
the carriage so hard he heard it crack, he slammed his fist against the wall, not even acknowledging any discomfort.
Damnation!
How had he—of all people—gotten caught in a compromising situation with an innocent young miss? He had always been careful to avoid them like the plague. Looking back on the kiss, he’d known he wasn’t kissing Noreen.
God’s teeth!
Kathleen’s kisses were full of innocence. He should have ended the kiss no matter how soft and tempting her sweet lips had been. If he was honest with himself, he had lost control, in a way he’d never lost it before.
There was no way to get around it. He would have to marry the girl. This would be a marriage made in hell for both of them. They detested each other. How they were supposed to make this work was beyond him.
Once Andrew entered his room, he summoned Ensley, so he could prepare for his dreaded meeting with the duke. Soon his valet had him shaved and helped him into his tight-fitting, navy blue cut-away jacket. With his patience worn thin, he refused to allow the man to tie his cravat. Of course, Ensley became affronted. At that point, Andrew refused to worry about the sensitive feelings of his temperamental valet.
Storming down the stairs, he ordered his carriage brought round posthaste. As soon as it arrived, he jumped in and gave his driver instructions to take him to Chilton House. On the short drive over, he continued to berate himself for his asinine stupidity. Well, nothing could be done regarding the situation. He needed to try to make the best of it.
It could have been worse. At least Miss Hawks was a beautiful girl with her piercing green eyes and clear, porcelain skin. Thinking of her had him aroused beyond what he would have expected for such an innocent. When he’d kissed her, she had melted into his arms. When he’d cupped her soft, round breast, it fit his hand to perfection. He grew hard remembering how it felt. At least they would have that much in their favor.
