by Sue Barr
“If you knew how he treated his daughter…” She shuddered and closed her eyes. “MacDougal brought her to me in the dead of night over four years ago. She had been abused in a most degrading manner and would have died. Do not question how he became involved. He never volunteered and I have never asked. My home is the last place the Viscount would think to search for his errant daughter.”
“This does not explain how those two men knew about our operation.” From his observations, George knew she spoke the truth, but there were so many other missing pieces.
“We live in a time where friends become enemies and enemies become friends.” She shrugged at his raised eyebrow. “Suffice to say, our contact in France decided their love of money outweighed their hatred of that tiny upstart. Our courier was followed every step of the way, hoping to discover the identities of the English agents, namely you and me. Once I knew Stanhope was behind the English side of the puzzle, I had my connections trace everything back to France.”
“This does not explain why you are here, at Pemberley.”
“It is interesting how paths cross and interconnect in the most unusual way. You received my note this past April.” At his affirmative nod, she continued. “I sailed to France and had an in-depth conversation with our traitor. At first, he denied, then he bragged, and finally he pleaded. When his most tender parts were re-adjusted, he purged his soul.”
George involuntarily shuddered and crossed his legs. He always knew Evangeline had a ruthless streak, evidenced with how she dealt with the traitor.
“I see you understand completely.” She’d noticed his reaction and gave a knowing smile. “While there, I searched and found a cache of documents which, if found by the wrong people, would have devastatingly compromised our mission.”
“Where are those documents now?”
“I have them with me.”
“What?” George stood, agitated beyond endurance. “Why would you bring them here? Why not take them to the War Office?”
“Whom do I trust?” Evangeline also stood. “I do not know who your contact is. We’ve always kept these things from each other in case one of us was compromised. You are the only person I can give them to.”
George strode toward the window, pushing a hand through his hair. If only Evangeline had trusted him with the identity of Lady Harriet. Maybe then all of this would have been resolved sooner. As it was, Stanhope was among the guests expected to arrive later in the day. He turned to face Evangeline.
“We have no time to waste. Stanhope will be arriving later this afternoon.”
“That vile man is a guest of Mr. Darcy?”
“No, he is a guest of our family. He just happens to be staying at Pemberley. I allowed his name to remain on the list in order to keep an eye on him.” He pushed a hand through his hair again. Evangeline smiled, much like a mother would with her fussy child. She came up to him and straightened his unruly locks.
“We will figure this out. Do not worry so much.”
At the sound of a small gasp, George glanced over Evangeline’s shoulder. Frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with hurt, stood Miss Catherine Bennet. Too late, Evangeline lowered her hand and turned to see who captured his interest. At the sight of Lady Cavendish standing in what could only be interpreted as an intimate posture, Catherine paled. In dread fascination he watched as her shoulder’s straightened and she grew a few inches taller, reminding him of a marionette being pulled up by its strings. She looked positively regal when she raised her chin, gave them both a polite nod of acknowledgement and exited the parlor.
He cursed under his breath and clenched his fingers into a fist. What must she think of him.
“Go to her.” Evangeline stepped away and settled on the couch.
“I cannot,” he forced through stiff lips.
“But you care for this young lady, yes?”
“We do not have an understanding. To chase after her would send the wrong message.”
“And what message is that?” Evangeline arched an eyebrow at him. “A message that you love her and wish to marry?”
“Yes, I mean, no.”
“No, you do not love her?”
“I do, but I cannot marry her. Not yet.”
“Ahhh… I see.” Evangeline toyed with the brooch at the throat of her dress. “Is it because you are secretly betrothed to someone else and must break it off? Or maybe she is being courted by some other fine young pup. There are many here this week, she will have her pick of the litter.”
“Enough, Evangeline!” He dragged his hand once again through his hair. He couldn’t bear the thought of another winning her heart. “Until this thing with Stanhope is finished I dare not let him know of my regard for Miss Catherine.”
“And what if Stanhope eludes us? What if he is never brought to justice, what then? Will you see her marry another, or worse, marry no one?”
***
Kitty held her head high until she reached her bed chamber. Why wouldn’t Lord George rather be with a woman as beautiful as the Countess? With her exotic looks and seductive voice she could have any man she wanted. But, why did it have to be him? She drew a deep breath and wiped the stinging tears away with the back of her hand, knowing in her heart of hearts Lord George could never be hers. She was damaged goods. Not fit to be any man’s wife. He needed someone like the Countess of Anstruther.
Someone who moved within the same social circles. Someone he’d be proud to have on his arm. The Countess was titled and beautiful, an enticing combination. She, Kitty Bennet of Longbourn, had a dowry of one thousand pounds, a lackadaisical father, a mother who couldn’t curb her tongue and a sister who very nearly ruined the reputation of all their sisters by her selfish actions.
Given all these wonderful attributes - she snorted in disdain - it was a miracle her two elder sisters managed to marry anyone, let alone the successful men they did. Kitty sat at the writing desk, cupped her chin in the palm of her hand and stared out the window onto the beautiful grounds of Pemberley.
The past week had been almost like a dream. At first, she’d dreaded the arrival of Lord George and his brother the Duke of Adborough. After her refusal of his proposal and then weeks of avoiding his company, she’d been almost tongue tied the first night the two brothers joined them for dinner.
But Lord George made no demands from her and was all politeness. He didn’t seek to embarrass her in any way, although he most assuredly garnered the lion’s share of her time whenever the gentleman joined the ladies for after dinner conversation. And during several of her rambles around the grounds of Pemberley, she’d come across him also enjoying the park. It seemed natural to walk together and have conversations that slowly became less stilted and less formal.
Then, last night, Georgiana offered to play the pianoforte so everyone could dance. When he’d approached and asked her if she’d partner with him, her heart had all but jumped out of her chest.
The shared intimacy as they moved around in time to the music was almost unbearable. Such a heady experience, having someone so handsome pay attention to her. Yet not once did Lord George hold her hand longer than polite society thought acceptable and most definitely did not importune her any further than what was necessary.
One fat tear rolled into her cupped hand, which surprised her. After all the tears she’d shed after that disastrous proposal in the park, she didn’t know she could still cry. Seeing him in such an intimate manner with Lady Cavendish had torn any romantic notion of him resuming his attentions to shreds.
When she and her family returned to Longbourn she’d make plans for her future. Papa would allow her to stay at home for a few years, but once she reached the ripe old age of five and twenty, both he and Mama would wash their hands of her. Of that fact, she was sure.
This meant she had at least five years to better her mind and accomplishments. If she studied hard enough she could find employment as a lady’s companion, or maybe as a governess. She had a modest knowledge of French and surely i
n five years she could conquer Latin. When she embarked on her career, she’d be well armed and well informed. Darcy would know of reputable families looking for a gentlewoman to guide their children, or of an aging mother in need of a grateful companion.
With a feasible plan in action settled in her mind, Kitty dried her tears and washed her face. No more crying over things that could never be. She’d known this for over ten years and it was time to act like a woman, not a child. Her attention was caught by a flash of blue between the trees lining the garden, the same blue as the jacket Lord George was wearing.
She leaned closer to the window and watched the man break free of the trees. Yes, it was him and he was headed to the stables. Her heart constricted at the sight of his lithe body, moving with athletic grace. He was everything she’d ever hoped for. Everything she’d ever wanted and couldn’t have.
The tears fell once again and this time she didn’t stop them.
Chapter Fifteen
I must speak with you, most urgently.
Meet me in the library
E.C.
George read the missive again and tucked it inside the book he was reading, noting with irony he was already at the suggested place. There was no time to meet with Evangeline. Stanhope’s carriage was but an hour away. George’s man had arrived only a few minutes ago ahead of the Viscount to give him a head’s up – as planned – however, Evangeline was not given over to histrionics.
He cursed softly under his breath. He’d have to risk meeting her in private and hope to high heaven Catherine did not witness what she’d assume was yet another lurid assignation. All the hard work from the past week had been torn asunder by her observing them in the drawing room. One would have to be a fool not to realize she thought they were having an affair.
He didn’t have long to wait. Evangeline breezed into the room a few short minutes after one of the footmen had delivered her note. When she was assured of their privacy, she began speaking in low tones.
“We must hide Lady Harriet. If Stanhope or one of his servants see her, I cannot vouch for her safety, or worse, protect her very life.”
“There will be a house full of guests. Surely he would not attempt anything with so many in attendance.”
“It is not just that, Lord George. He must never find out where she has taken shelter. He may not accost her here, but once we remove to London, there is no telling when or how he will snatch her away.”
“Was it really that bad?”
Evangeline narrowed her eyes and glared at him. He felt the small hairs on the back of his neck rise. Lady Cavendish rarely lost her temper and he wondered exactly what had Stanhope done to make her so protective. He didn’t have to wonder any longer when she spoke these chilling words.
“Do you remember when we were fleeing for our very lives in France, the pretty young serving girl who worked at the inn near the river? The one where the soldiers stayed. The one brutalized and left for dead.”
He nodded. Bile rose in his throat at the very memory of her screams and even now his hand clenched at their inhumanity and how he’d been too late to save her from their ‘attentions’.
“They were but lads in leading strings compared to the way Stanhope treated his daughter.” George gagged at the very thought. “He can never find Lady Harriet, for I fear for her very life.”
“I shall find a place. Have her pack lightly, speed is of the essence.”
He’d immediately thought of Nathan and his vicarage in Kympton. What better place for sanctuary but with a man of God in his house. He and Lady Harriet would both ride on Buttons and he needn’t bother a stable hand to saddle him up as George was quite accustomed to riding bareback, if necessary. He hoped Lady Harriet was an able horsewoman. Regardless, she’d have no choice in the matter. He couldn’t take the chance of anyone coming across them.
“This is one of the many things I appreciate about you. Your ability to adapt to any situation. More than once you saved our lives in France. Thinking on your feet is your strength.”
“Have Miss Bledsoe meet me in the stables after dinner. The moon is near full and there will be enough light I can escort her to a place of safety.”
“You already know where you are taking her? Without consulting anyone?”
“I do, and the less you know, the less you can reveal if pressed.”
Evangeline rested her hand on his arm and squeezed.
“Thank you, my friend. I owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid.”
“Think nothing of it. Now, I must go. Stanhope arrives within the hour and I wish to be on hand when he arrives. I need to see who accompanies him so that I may watch their activities.”
“Do not be afraid to use me in this endeavor. I do not believe Stanhope knows of my involvement and I can be a second set of eyes in a crowd of people.”
“Thank you, Lady Cavendish. I bid you good day.”
He gave her a polite bow and exited the room, heaving a sigh of relief at no one witnessing him exit the library.
***
Kitty followed Mary into the drawing room, astonished by how many guests were already encamped about the room prior to dinner. With relief she noted Mr. Darcy’s tall form near the French doors which led out to a terraced patio and the two sisters began to weave their way across the room. Beside Darcy stood Lizzy, Charles and Jane, along with Nathan and Caroline. To say that Caroline glowed with happiness would have been a colossal understatement. It was like saying the sun was a smidgeon too bright to look upon directly.
Kitty smiled at their obvious contentment and greeted Caroline with much warmth. Such a difference from when they’d originally met in Hertfordshire.
“Caroline, Lord Nathan.” She gave them both a polite curtsy. “I am so looking forward to your wedding ball tomorrow night.”
Even though Caroline and Lord Nathan were not a member of Darcy’s family, he’d offered them his home and his family’s tradition of having a wedding ball a few days prior to the wedding so that the guests could mingle and wish the couple well. The day of the wedding was always such a hectic affair, what with the ceremony followed by the wedding breakfast, followed by the couple leaving immediately for their one-month wedding trip.
“As am I, Catherine, for it was at Darcy’s wedding ball that Lord Nathan and I began an understanding of sorts.”
“That we did, my love, even if it was a misunderstanding.”
Caroline laughed gaily at the confused looks from everyone.
“Yes, it was a misunderstanding, of sorts, but I was left in no doubt how I felt about you after that incident.” She blushed faintly and Kitty wondered what the incident actually was. Had Lord Nathan kissed her? The romantic side of her hoped he had, further confirmed by Lord Nathan’s husky reply.
“I left with no doubt, either.” His gaze lowered to her lips and Caroline, turning a delicious shade of pink, brought up her fan and flicked it back and forth, the pomander on her wrist eliciting a soothing scent of rosewater. “I love the scent of your agitation, dear Caroline, and it delights me to no end when you succumb to my teasing.”
Caroline tapped him on the arm with her fan. “How you vex me, Lord Nathan.”
Kitty stifled a giggle at the repetition of one of her mother’s favorite saying oft heard in the Bennet household. Oh, how you vex me, Mr. Bennet. You have no regard for my nerves. She realized at that moment how much she missed her family, even if they were at times silly and looked forward to their arrival on the morrow.
They had an unexpected delay at one of the posting inns, with their carriage requiring a new wheel after hitting an unexpectedly large hole in the road. If all went well, they’d arrive a few hours before the ball.
She took the time to assess her older sisters. Lizzy had given birth to Bennet Fitzwilliam Darcy a few weeks ago and looked positively stunning in a cream over jade green dress, which complimented her matronly curves in all the right ways, if the secret smile Mr. Darcy shared with her was anything to go
by.
Jane, on the other hand was nearing her confinement, and although always serenely beautiful, she tired quicker than was her wont and Kitty knew Charles would bustle her off to their rooms as soon as it was polite. It also hadn’t helped that they spent the last month moving into their new estate thirty miles from Lizzy and Darcy. However, she had only a few more public functions to attend and then she could rest to her heart’s content, as Charles would make sure Jane didn’t lift a finger until their child was born.
Conversations ebbed and flowed around her, with various guests coming up to Darcy and congratulating him on his home, wife and newborn son. In turn, they spoke with Lord Nathan and Caroline before making way for another guest to extol their good wishes.
Kitty, lulled into a sense of happiness, tensed when Lord George entered the room. As though tethered by some unseen force, his gaze captured hers within seconds. With a determined look on his face, he began to cross the room toward her.
She froze in place when her line of sight landed on the gentleman entering the room behind Lord George. She bit back a cry, pushed the back of her hand against her mouth and escaped the room as fast as humanly possible, praying she wouldn’t cast up her accounts in front of Darcy’s esteemed guests.
***
George, never having taken his eyes off Catherine, experienced a searing jolt of alarm when a look of abject horror crossed her face. She’d blanched whiter than a baby lamb, covered her mouth and practically ran out the terrace doors. Was she so affronted by his supposed behavior with Evangeline that she became physically ill at the sight of him?
He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed her abrupt exit and was brought up short when he heard a familiar voice murmur, “Well, well, well. The little kitty cat is here. How delightful.”
He turned and noted Stanhope, a disgusting leer on his face, staring at the doors Catherine had run through. It was quite apparent the Viscount did not know he’d overheard the comment. George was well aware Catherine’s family called her Kitty although he refused to call her anything but Catherine, but how in the world did Stanhope know her? And given his experience with lurid members of the ton, the Viscount was experiencing disgusting, lecherous thoughts about her. His stomach roiled at the very idea.
