Finally Jules rose, lifted his opponent by his shirt front and landed one more jaw-cracking blow before letting him fall limply to the floor.
Breathing deeply, Jules turned to her, the diamond still winking in the center of his cravat. His lean face was flushed from exertion, but as yet no bruise marred his skin. With long fingers he brushed back his mussed hair and flicked his slightly askew coat into place. “I believe, Kathryn, it might be wise if we took our leave. Come,” he demanded, extending his arm. “We must find the duchess before she misses us and sends up an alarm.”
Wordlessly, Kat tucked her trembling fingers into the curve of his arm, threw one last look at Sir Edmund moaning on the floor, and allowed her husband to escort her from the room.
Somehow, Jules guided her through the crush, found the duchess holding court in the midst of the dowagers, soothed Lady Tutwilliger’s alarm at their early retirement, and got them all into the coach before Kat could think of a word to say. It wasn’t shock at what she had just witnessed so much as a total inability to make conversation with Jules’s stony facade. Even his grandmother was forced into an inhabitual quietness by his stern refusal to discuss their abrupt departure.
The moment they arrived at Culter House Jules stalked into the library, closing the door firmly behind him.
The duchess faced Kat squarely. “I believe this is something to be settled between the two of you. But I will not allow you to hurt my grandson any further. If that is your intent I shall march into that room with you,” she declared with brutal frankness. “It has not escaped my notice that there has been a strain between you two this past week. Whatever it is, Jules is worth fighting to keep, Kathryn.”
Even though the duchess was glaring at her with her most haughty visage, Kat wasn’t in the slightest undone. They had been at odds all week and apparently for nothing but her own foolishness. It was up to her to rectify the situation.
“I assure you, Your Grace, that I shall do everything in my power to make Jules happy,” Kat said with such feeling her voice caught.
She was rewarded by an embrace; her first. “My dear girl, you have no idea what this means to me!” Stepping back, Jules’s grandmother gave her another commanding look. “Well, go on. He’s been pouting in there long enough!”
Jules wasn’t exactly pouting, Kat found when she stepped noiselessly into the library. He was sprawled in the wing chair with a decanter of brandy in one hand and a half-empty glass in the other. She was nearly to him before he glanced up and deigned to notice her. He drained the brandy glass.
“Kathryn, you look scared out of your wits. Sit down. We need to talk.”
It suddenly occurred to Kat that Jules had consumed a prodigious amount from that decanter while she and the duchess had delayed in the foyer. Jules was not drunk, or even close to it, but there was a fine edge to his tone that she hadn’t heard since that night in the Blue Boar Inn. Kat sat down, unsure of herself for the first time since her come-out ball.
She remained perfectly still in the chair across from where he sprawled, gazing into the fire. Her eyes studied his thick, black hair where it fell across his forehead, and the long, thin fingers that brushed it back. His eyelid was half-closed and she saw how his heavy black lashes neatly fanned his high cheekbone.
Suddenly he lifted his head and stared at her.
“How did you find yourself in that antechamber with Sir Edmund?”
It was not what she had expected him to ask so she hesitated a moment too long.
“You didn’t have an … an assignation with him!” he barked out.
“Of course not! Although this is not the first time he has accosted me,” she said quietly.
“What are you talking about, Kathryn?” Jules bellowed, lunging out of the chair, the glass and decanter forgotten on the floor beside it.
She rose to confront him. Kat had always faced her problems squarely and honestly. If she had done this in the first place perhaps Jules could have been spared the attack in Champagne.
“I am saying that since we left the boat this is my second, well, perhaps I should say, third encounter with the man.”
“Would you please be so kind as to explain to me, in detail, what transpired on each of these occasions?” he asked, deadly quiet, although his gaze burned with anger.
“The first was in the garden of that French inn where we stopped for the night. He … he wanted me to know he would not forget my interference with Caroline. The second … well, the second…” she stumbled over the words, not quite certain how to go on.
“Yes?” he drawled, that devilish eyebrow raised.
“The second was when he sent the Contessa Primavetta to the opera box while you were in the hall,” she rushed on, fearing his reaction. “And the third was tonight.”
He shook his head, as if to clear it. “Kathryn, I—”
“Don’t bother to explain.” She shrugged with feigned indifference. “Sir Edmund made it clear you had not taken up with her again … Where are you going!” she gasped, as he blurted an expletive and stalked toward the door.
“This earth has been defiled long enough by Sir Edmund’s miserable existence,” he spit out.
Kat threw herself in front of the library doors, barring the way. “No! That’s why I didn’t tell you before! I don’t want you or Jacko killed in some duel! Look at what you’ve already lost dueling!” Frightened tears streamed down her cheeks.
He stopped short, all the anger melting out of his face.
“My dear girl, why would you think I lost my sight in a duel?” he asked softly.
Although her face burned in embarrassment, Kat stiffened with indignation. “Since I know nothing about your past, and your thoughts and emotions you keep hidden from me, I make mistakes. I have nothing to guide me. You do not see fit to confide in me even though I am your wife.”
There was a short silence, during which Kat thought her heart would break from the pain in her chest.
Then Jules smiled, a sweeter smile than she’d ever seen, and taking her hands, led her to a chair. He sat before her on a footstool. When she tried to speak, he silenced her with two fingers across her lips.
“Kathryn, I am no heroic figure. I gained my scars neither by bravery in battle or reckless daring on the dueling field.” Now he hesitated for a moment, but Kat wisely did not speak. Jules gripped her hands so tightly her fingers were numb, but she did not pull away.
“I lost my sight in a family accident,” he began quietly. “It’s a long and tragic story.” He paused for a moment. “My mother didn’t love her husband, Dominic’s father. They both used us as pawns in their game to hurt each other. And although I was five years older than Dominic and tried to protect him … It didn’t work … I didn’t realize until recently how much the events had affected me.” He loosened her hands at last and turned his head slightly away.
“My mother was devoted to me, unusual … unhealthy devotion. I was blind to the innuendo of the whole situation until it was too late. She was, after all, my mother, even if she was also an evil, spiteful woman.” He turned to look Kat full in the face.
“Suffice it to say, in a drunken fit of rage my stepfather killed my mother and wounded me because he believed us to be lovers. Then he turned the gun upon himself.” His voice gained strength. “Dominic also believed it for ten long years. I returned to England last year for the sole purpose of forcing him to see the truth. That the tragedy was not of our making, but of our parents. And, at last, with the help of Juliana, he has. I have regained my brother.”
His words reached her, but it was a moment before understanding dawned. He was as pale as the white marble of the fireplace, but his gaze was dark with anguish.
Through the painful jolting in her ribs and the agony in her throat, Kat whispered, “I am sorry you suffered so unjustly. I wish I could take
away the pain.”
Kat saw his breath leave him silently and color return to flush his high cheekbones. Then with a ragged breath, he lifted her fingers to his mouth. “You have taken away the pain, Kathryn.”
She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t even breathe, she simply rose slowly to her feet with him.
Wordlessly, he reached to caress the base of her throat with his knuckles and Kat felt the rhythm of her pulse increase under his touch. She stood utterly still, gazing up with sweet uncertainty.
Capturing her face in his hands, he moved it ever so gently from side to side, dragging her lips across his, teasing, intoxicating her. Unable to stop herself, she slid her arms around his neck and clung to him. She pressed closer to him, her mouth finally meeting his in a deep clinging kiss that left them both trembling.
He cradled her against his chest, one hand on her cheek, his lips playing over her curls. “Kathryn, we—”
“No! Promise me…” she faltered, throwing back her head to meet his melting gaze. “Promise me you won’t place yourself in any more danger. I don’t wish to lose you now … now that we are … we are becoming … better acquainted.”
His arms tightened around her, his face was luminous with emotion. “I promise, Kathryn. And I promise that very, very soon we shall be even better acquainted.”
Chapter 12
Kat stretched lazily in her bed, then absently slid her palm over the place where Jules would be tonight if she had anything to say about it. Which, she pledged, she most definitely would!
A rush of heat spread through her body as she curled up in a tight ball thinking about him. How could one’s life change so quickly? Everything was changed since she and Jules had talked. She had not realized her feelings could grow even stronger and brighter than they already were, but last night when he had told her about his accident she had been consumed with wanting to banish his pain forever and fill that hollow with love—her love.
The only blemish on an otherwise totally satisfactory evening—seeing Sir Edmund get his just deserts (when had she turned into such a blood-thirsty creature?) and discovering Jules had not renewed his liaison with the contessa—was that he had not swept Kat up in his arms in the library and carried her to his chamber.
Sighing, she moved her cheek on the pillow where his ebony head would rest tonight. She would twine her fingers through his rich locks and press kisses across that hard muscular chest … Breathing most unevenly, Kat sat up in bed, her heart pounding beneath her night shift. Did all married women have these wonderful dreams about their husbands? How did one ever get anything accomplished with these delicious thoughts filling one’s mind? It was quite shocking to realize she would be content to laze here all day thinking about Jules, but to make these daydreams spin true she had things to do.
Tonight, Mariah would be officially engaged to the man of her dreams. Tonight, Kat would use every lure she knew to draw Jules to her; she would entice her husband to her bed where she would entwine him forever with silken bonds of love. There was nothing standing between them and nothing, she promised herself, would stop her!
It was too early for the ton to be riding on Rotten Row, which was precisely why Jules was there. The sun’s light was weak through a light layer of clouds, and there was a dawn breeze from the Thames which, thankfully, had cleansed the acrid city air. He felt wonderful this morning, free as he hadn’t been in years. Somehow, in telling Kathryn about the accident, he had evacuated that hollow of pain. Now, little by little, he could share all his past with her, share all his thoughts and feelings. He never could have anticipated her reaction to his story. That was one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted to burden her with it. So few people knew the truth. Now, suddenly, the past held little importance for him. The future was what mattered. His future with Kathryn.
Holding her in his arms last night, hope had sprung fresh that very soon he could keep the vow he made in Champagne. Although Kat had not actually said the words, her sweet, responsive body spoke its own language. What it had told him fueled his determination.
At Lady Tutwilliger’s tonight he would charm and beguile his wife with loving attention. Perhaps this was the night that blasted connecting door would finally be opened.
Jules was jarred out of his pleasant dreams of Kathryn by a friendly crack of laughter.
“By gad, Saville, nearly ran me over!” Jacko reined his horse in sharply to sidestep Noir.
“Jacko, what a surprise! These are hardly the hours you keep. Usually you’re not abroad until afternoon,” Jules drawled, with a quirk of his lip.
“Making good my escape, Saville. If you’re smart you’ll do the same.” Jacko nodded sagely. “Stay away from the house today or the women will be bound to drag you into some job for this ball of Willy’s. Seen it happen before. Doesn’t help I don’t live at Tutwilliger House, they even find me in my rooms.”
“Plan to avoid them all day, Jacko?” Jules smiled at his brother-in-law’s fresh dimpled face, so much like Kathryn’s.
“Got it all planned. Ride in the park this morning. Spot of lunch. Dress for the ball early, then off to faro at Mrs. Cathage’s before I have to do the pretty tonight.”
“Mrs. Cathage’s?” Jules lifted his brow at the mention of the notorious faro den. “Bit too far on the fringe, isn’t it, Jacko?”
He shrugged, moving his horse back a few paces.
“Percy and Glady are going with me. Play is fair there even if the company is a bit off. Well, must be going, Saville. Remember what I told you. Stay away from Kat today, sure to put you to work.”
Amusement curling his mouth, Jules watched his young brother-in-law canter down the path. Actually, he would be tied up most of the day with his man of business so he did not plan to see Kathryn. The separation only fanned the anticipation for the evening to come, Jules decided.
With a short laugh of excitement, Jules gave Noir his head, since they were quite alone, and galloped up Rotten Row.
Everything was perfection, Lady Tutwilliger decided, giving one last twist to the turban feather brushing her cheek. Dressed in her favorite color of lilac satin, Gwynneth was ready to accept the congratulations and envy of the ton. She had pulled it off: this season Kat had married the dashing and extremely well-connected Comte de Saville; now Mariah was betrothed to Mr. Christian Vanderworth—even without a title, his enormous wealth made him an enviable catch.
This Gwynneth had accomplished even in the face of the Thistlewait Jilting Scandal. Although the children’s mother, Bettina, had been a sweet child, she could never have been considered a lady, and was certainly a misalliance for Francis. But, it was all ending like a fairy tale.
Gwynneth sighed, taking one last turn about the ballroom to check the floral arrangements and the fragile gilt chairs set against the walls for the dowagers. Francis and Bettina had been gloriously happy in the few years they had together and now their children had also made love matches. Although, it wasn’t official by any means, it was plain Jacko and Caroline were made for one another. That young woman had made her scamp into a very pretty-behaved man. She had even settled the slight difficulty of finding a proper match for Miss Vanderworth by encouraging her friendship with Gladstone Pennington. Yes, they would do nicely, also. Really, she never realized before what a genius she had for matchmaking. -
Positioning herself in the entrance hall, Gwynneth had nothing to do but wait for Mariah to make her appearance. Glancing up at the hall clock, she could see Mr. Vanderworth had fifteen minutes before he was due to arrive and, as always, he would be punctual.
When the knocker pounded five minutes later she was startled out of her complicated wedding plans. Westley opened the door to admit her godson, followed by Sir Percy Allendale and Gladstone Pennington. She was totally flabbergasted. These young rips were never on time for a social engagement! It was apparent they were arguing fiercely.
“Jacko, don’t be a fool! You ca—” Gladstone was heard to say before Jacko cut him off with a epithet which Gwynneth just barely made out.
“Jacko, what is the meaning of this!” she bellowed, fanning herself briskly with her lilac-tinted ostrich feathers.
All three gentlemen turned blank faces to her, although Jacko’s eyes seemed overly brilliant tonight.
“We’ve come to celebrate my sister’s engagement, Willy,” Jacko smiled brightly. Too brightly, Gwynneth realized when he bent to kiss her cheek. “Where are Mariah and Caroline?” he asked, peering up the great stairway to the second floor.
“Since you are a full half hour early, they are still dressing,” Gwynneth announced, pinning both Gladstone and Percy with her sharp eye. “I’ve known Jacko since his birth cry, so I know when he’s up to something. Which one of you is going to tell me?”
Both young men looked satisfactorily terrified, but neither dared open his mouth. Jacko suddenly took her fingers, lifting them to his firm lips.
“Have I ever told you, I love you, Willy,” he whispered, a heartbreaking smile filling his gorgeous face.
Stunned into speechlessness, Gwynneth stood stock still. A rustle of skirts brought all their attention to the stairs. Mariah glided down, glorious in palest pink crepe, with two glossy brown curls falling daringly down her neck. Floating behind her in a gossamer gown of azure came Caroline. Her eyes immediately lit on Jacko.
“Lord Thistlewait, you are here so early!” she breathed in unfeigned delight.
Gladstone and Percy stepped aside so Jacko could take each girl by the hand to lead them forward. “I have come early to gaze upon your beauty,” Jacko drawled with unadulterated flattery.
Mariah tapped his arm playfully with her fan.
“You’re talking to your sister, you ninny. What really brings you?”
He pinched her cheek. “Wanted to see you, that’s all. But now I must lose you to your fiancé,” he laughed as the knocker sounded and Westley admitted Mr. Vanderworth. “Come, Caroline,” he insisted, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Let us be the first to sample the champagne Willy is serving tonight.”
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