London, Julia - The Perfect Stranger

by Radha

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  If there was one thing Julian Dane abhorred, it was meddling in another mans affairs. He usually left that sort of thing up to Arthurhe was so damn good at it. But when it was time for someone to meddle in Arthurs affairs, he supposed it would have to be him, and he cursed Albright for staying at Longbridge through the autumn!

  Julian handed the reins of his horse to a freckle-faced lad at Arthurs Mount Street house and jogged up the steps to the entry, wondering how exactly he would inquire as to the delicate relationship between Arthur and Mrs. McKinnon. What words did he use to ask if the houseguest delivered to him was ever leaving? Not that he minded having Kerry aboutshe was actually very pleasant and Claudia seemed to adore her. And naturally, he couldnt be happier that it had been his idea for Christian to trot off to Scotland in the first place. But the woman hadnt come out of her room since yesterday afternoon, and Arthur hadnt been to call in three full days now. When Claudia began to fret, Julian had finally reached the inevitable conclusion that he would, unfortunately, have to inquire as to exactly what had transpired between the two lovers to cause this sudden rift.

  Barnaby showed him to the study where Arthur was hard at work poring over a stack of papers.

  Kettering, he said, barely glancing up. I expected you well before now.

  Julian smiled and strolled deeper into the room. I am unaccustomed to meddling, as you know. You must instruct me as to the proper procedure for it.

  Its rather simple, really. Arthur shoved the stack of papers away and leaned back. First, you ascertain that there is some sort of trouble, he said blandly, then you pay a call and inquire as to exactly the root of the trouble. If you are fortunate, the object of your meddling will tell all without much prompting from you. If you arent so very fortunate, you may be forced to ask uncomfortable questions. Nevertheless, once you are satisfied that you understand the facts, you offer a truthful perspective and your very profound advice on the matter at hand. Quite simple, really.

  Aha. Then in this instance, I might ask if there has been a row between you and the woman you dragged here all the way from Scotland?

  I see no reason to cover old ground. I would suggest you go straight to the heart of the matter and ask why someone like Kerry McKinnon would refuse an offer of marriage from someone like me.

  The announcement shocked Julianhe hoped he managed to hide his great surprise from Arthur, but it was inconceivable that he would seriously entertain marriage with someone of Kerrys background. Oh, is that all there is? he drawled. Then my work here should be concluded quickly. Well then, why would Kerry McKinnon refuse you?

  Arthur shrugged. She says we are quite different.

  You are.

  Arthur frowned. I know her like I know myself, Julian. We are not so very different.

  All right, Julian conceded. You share thoughts in common, perhaps even some profound experiences in common. You enjoy the same pastimes and pursuits. But you are the son of a duke, Arthur. She is a widow of a Scottish farmer. In that regard, you are very different.

  Are you saying such differences cannot be overcome? Arthur snapped.

  You heard no such claim from me, Julian quickly responded, raising his hand in supplication. But you cannot deny that the differences in your background and pedigree are substantial.

  Arthur looked down at his hands with a frown. I I love her, Julian. I dont care about such superficial differences. They can be overcome.

  Julian sighed, reached in his breast pocket for his spectacles, and put them on. He peered at Arthur for a long moment, wondering if he should tell his friend how long it would be before such differences were overcome, if ever. Perhaps not even in their lifetime. Even if Kerry learned the proper table manners and how to speak and move like a woman of Quality the ton would never accept her. They were merciless in that way, repudiating anyone without the proper credentials to have gained entry into their circles. They would sooner forgive indiscretion or infidelity than they would the lack of connections. God help his dear old friend Arthur. It was just like the sentimental fool to believe he could change centuries of thinking among the whole bloody ton for the sake of love.

  Differences can be overcome, but only to a certain extent.

  Arthur raked a look of disappointment over Julian.

  You said I should speak the truth. I am giving you the truth. Kerry is lovely. Charming. Refreshingly original. Certainly she can be taught the proper etiquette for any occasion. But the odds are against her of ever being completely accepted here. There will be those who accept her for who she is and because you love her. But there will be more who shun her because of her background. Do you think your love alone can sustain her?

  Arthur suddenly shoved to his feet and stalked to the drink cart. He poured two whiskeys, handed one to Julian. Dont think I havent thought of it. Dont think I havent lain awake every night wondering how we might overcome such bloody obstacles. Even Paddy treated her with not a little disdain. But I keep coming round to the same conclusionI love her. I am quite certain I will never love another woman as I love her. And you would have me deny that because some goddamn blue blood would cut her?

  Julian looked at the amber liquid in the glass Arthur had handed him and asked quietly, Have you considered setting her up in a house nearby?

  Arthur downed the whiskey and fairly tossed the glass aside. Oh, Ive thought of it. Believe me, I have thought of it. But I cannotI care for her far too much for that.

  That prompted Julian to down his whiskey, too. There was obviously nothing he could say that would convince the old boy to forget the ludicrous idea of marriage; oh no, Julian knew the set of that jawArthur Christian would defy every known social custom in this country, offend his family honor in the process, all for the sake of his heart.

  One had to love a man like that.

  Well then, if you are to be so very pigheaded about the whole thing, you may as well go and speak with her. Having endured the raising of four girls, all of whom moped over a lost love at one time or another, I would thank you not to force me to do it again.

  Will she see me?

  Julians heart wrenched at the sound of hopeful uncertainty in Arthurs voice. It reminded him of his own troubles with Claudia when they were first married and he knew very well how much it hurt, knew very well indeed the pain of loving so deeply and believing that love unrequited. And how it was to wish hopelessly for it every waking hour.

  He stood, walked to Arthur and clapped a hand on his shoulder. I dont rightly know, old chap. She hasnt come out of her rooms since yesterday afternoon.

  Arthur hesitated for a moment before he muttered, Then we had best be about it. And he was already striding to the door.

  They walked into the gold salon at Kettering House after Julian sent a maid to rap on Mrs. McKinnons door and tell her that Arthur had come. Arthur was too restless to sit; he stood at the bow windows overlooking St. James Square and stared blindly into the street.

  The sting of her rejection had lessened somewhat in the last few days. He could count himself among all unfeeling cads if he didnt realize what a great shock the discovery of the letter from Regis must have been for her. He should have told her his role in it, and truthfully, he had fully intended to do sobut the shock of finding her over Moncrieffes body, the flight from Glenbaden, all of it the more days that passed, the less important it seemed.

  Nonetheless, her rejection of his offer of marriage stuck like a lump in his throat, a constant but dull source of pain. He wondered for the thousandth time if perhaps he had imagined her love for him, if he had somehow manufactured it to match his own increasing ardor. Had she truly lain beneath him, expressing her love for him in the most primitive terms, or had it been a dream? What of the things she had said? Had he misconstrued them somehow, misunderstood her intent? For the last three days he had tortured himself with every distinct memory of her.

  He had thought he knew her as well as he knew himself. Now he wondered if he ever re
ally knew her at all.

  Milord.

  Arthur turned around as the maid Julian had sent up to Kerry entered the salon and curtseyed low.

  Well, Peg? What did Mrs. McKinnon have to say?

  She wouldnt answer, milord.

  Nor when I called to her this morning, Claudia said, sweeping into the room behind the maid. Julian, I think something is wrong.

  It was not like Kerry. Arthur was already moving, his mind resisting the jagged edges of fear that tried to stab his consciousness. Where? he asked simply, and followed Julian out.

  He rapped hard on the door Julian showed him to, and listened closely. There was no sound behind the door. He frowned at Julian and Claudia and knocked again. Kerry, open this door!

  Silence.

  Arthur twisted the knob; it was locked.

  Through the dressing room, Julian said, leading the way. Arthur strode through the adjoining bedroom, thrust the door to the dressing room open and walked through it, oblivious to its contents, to Kerrys room.

  It was empty.

  A window stood open, the long chiffon drapes floating on a cool autumn breeze. The bed was neatly made; there was no sign of anyone having lived in the room at all.

  Oh no, Claudia murmured behind him.

  Oh God. She was gone. Kerry was gone. Arthur spun around, looking for anything, any sign that she had been here, was here, somewhere they werent looking.

  Are you certain this is the right room? Julian asked, obviously thinking the same thing, and receiving a withering look from Claudia for it.

  Where could she have gone? Claudia asked.

  Arthur pivoted on his heel, stalked to the dressing room and looked around him. Boxes of slippers and hats were lined neatly on one shelf, some of them with ribbons still tiednever opened. He flung open a wardrobe; her gowns, the expensive gowns he had commissioned for her, were stuffed tightly within. His mind could not absorb it, he whipped around again, strode into her room, glared at the objects on the vanity. Jars of creamswhere had those come from?a handful of ribbons, a comb. A jewelry box sat on one corner of the vanity, and Arthur felt himself moving there through some force that was not truly his own.

  She could not have gone far. Shes no knowledge of London atall, Julian said as Arthur opened the jewelry box. Everything was there, all the pieces of jewelry he had given her.

  Except the blue diamond.

  He picked up a strand of pearls and let them fall through his fingers. When was the last time you saw her?

  After luncheon yesterday. She complained of a headache and came up to rest.

  What of supper?

  She didnt come down, Claudia said, pressing a finger to her bottom lip as she thought. I had a tray sent up, and the footman returned with it. I believe he said she refused it.

  He said she didnt answer, Julian clarified, and met Arthurs gaze from across the room.

  His heart stopped working, laid dead. She is gone, he said flatly. Gone. Gone, disappeared without a trace. How could this have happened? Not three days ago, he was happily contemplating marriage. How could it all have unraveled? He had to find her. All right then, think! Where would she have gone? It was inconceivable that she had started for Scotland. With what? She had no money, no means of transportation

  The diamond.

  The understanding kicked him in the gut. The one thing she had not left behind was the one thing she could easily trade for cash, and quite a lot of it at that. Arthur started for the door, but his eye caught a glimmer of pale yellow on the stand next to the bed, and he paused.

  It was a folded piece of vellum. He changed course, practically lunging for it, tearing it open. It was a note, all right, one written in a shaky hand, the words marred by several inkblots. As the words sank into his consciousness, his vision blurred with his despair, all else settled into a distant noise. She apologized for leaving in such a contemptible manner, of course, but wrote that she had come to realize their lives were vastly different, and that she was too simple to pretend she was someone she was not, too honest to allow Thomas to hang for her crime. As Kerry McKinnon apparently saw things, she no more belonged in his world than he in hers, for she urged Arthur not to follow her.

  There was no hope of that, he thought, crumpling the note in his hand. As stunned as he was, he knew there was no hope of that. How could he? Her abandonment had broken him in two.

  He turned and looked at the stricken Danes. She has left. Gone to Scotland.

  But how? Claudia exclaimed as Julian put an arm around her. She cant simply walk there!

  I suspect she found a way to sell the diamond necklace I gave her. It sounded so ruthless when he said it; he looked blindly around the room, thrust a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly numb.

  Oh, Arthur, Claudia murmured.

  Unconsciously, he dropped the note. I will send someone for her things, he said, moving for the door.

  Arthur

  But he kept walking, deaf to Julians call. Deaf to everything, but the pain of his loss and anger.

  She had left him without so much as a fare-thee-well.

  The first hours following the discovery of that monumental fact passed in a white blur of soul-consuming devastation.

  She might as well have died.

  The end was the same. He had no opportunity to hear her reasoning for leaving him like she did, no opportunity to present his side of things, to try and change her mind. She hadnt even extended him the common courtesy of saying good-bye. Oh no, she had cut herself from his life without a word, suddenly and completely, without giving him even a single chance to say the things that were in his heart. How could he live without her? How could he pass the days without her smile, the nights without her breath on his neck?

  She might as well have died.

  Arthur slept badly that night, tossing and turning through dreams of Phillip, of Kerry. He was again in the ballroom among glittering objects and people, searching for Kerry, struggling through a sea of dancers, finally finding her in the arms of a laughing Phillip. He grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, but she melted. Just melted into nothing.

  The two days following were the blackest. Her betrayal of his trust and his love was the cruelest thing he had ever known, and it ate away at him like a cancer. He tried to numb it at the Tam OShanter with copious amounts of wine, but it had no effect on the pain. Even his mind played tricks on himshe hadnt really left, she was still in London, and he found himself looking for her in every woman he encountered on the street.

  The worst of it was his bodys traitorous ache for her. He remembered every touch, every kiss, every whisper. He remembered how her eyes would sparkle with desire when he kissed her, how her smile would warm him to the very pit of his soul, often leaving him to grin at her like a lovesick pup. The memories came to him unwanted, uninvited, filling him with perfect misery. In his thirty-six years on this earth, he had never known such personal annihilation. The woman had succeeded in shattering his fool heart.

  A trip to Madame Farantinos brothel was even less successful than the wine. He sought to erase the memory of her body with that of another, but it was a wholly and humiliatingly futile endeavor. Nothing could take Kerry from his mind. Nothing.

  A week later, Alex returned from Sutherland Hall with his sister-in-law Lauren and their three young sons. It took Arthur another two days to rouse himself from his doldrums to pay a call on his brother. When he arrived at twenty-two Audley Street, it was apparent Alex had already heard the news of his unfortunate bout of love. A copy of the latest Times sat folded on the edge of Alexs desk. Arthur had seen the on-dit in the society pages that speculated what a certain brother of an influential duke might have done with his Scottish bumpkin after amusing half the ton with her.

  He waited for Alex to chastise him, remind him he was the son of the eighth duke of Sutherland and the brother of the tenth. He fell into a chair, lazily accepted a cup of tea from a maid, and stared at a picture of his father and mother.

  I
ran into Kettering at Whites last evening.

  Arthur said nothing, waited for the lecture. Much to his great surprise, however, Alex merely studied his French cuffs and remarked, I gather it has been a very trying time for you.

  A gross understatement. It had been hell.

  I was reminded of the weeks before Lauren and I married.

  Arthur glanced at his brother. This is hardly the same thing. That was trueLauren was a countess in her own right; her family had connections to the ton. And when she had fled home, it had been only miles from Sutherland Hall, a place Alex could easily reach her. Furthermore, Alex was engaged to be married to another woman at the time. He had not given everything he had to Lauren only to have her disappear into thin air.

  Alex shrugged, lifted his gaze from his French cuff. Isnt it? I recall sitting in this very room with our mother. Lauren had left; I was engaged to marry Marlaine Reese. They were terribly black days. And do you know what Hannah said to me?

  Arthur shook his head.

  She said, the French have a saying: True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have ever seen.

  Arthur shrugged indifferently. And?

  And, said Alex calmly, she urged me to break my engagement and go after Lauren for the sake of true love.

  Now he was only confusing Arthur, who irritably shook his head. I know all that, but this is not the same thing, Alex. You would hardly suggest that I toddle off to Scotland

  What is keeping you here?

  That brought him up short. He stared at his older brother as if he had lost his mind. Alex lifted a dark brow and God in heaven, Arthur wasnt sure that he hadnt. Do you know who she is, Alex? She is the widow of a poor Scottish farmer who tried to dig himself out of bad investments by taking Phillips money. Only he squandered that, too, and lost everything. Kerry McKinnon hasnt so much as a farthing to her name.

  Alex laughed. There are worse histories in our family background, he said with a smile. If poverty is her only crime, I should think you could easily alleviate that.

  What of her lack of connections? Even Paddy was cool to her.