Seduction of a Proper Gentleman (Last Man Standing)

by Victoria Alexander

  “You remember what?” Oliver prompted.

  What on earth was he doing here? Good Lord, he would ruin everything.

  “Kate? What is it?”

  “The music, Oliver,” she said quickly. She had to speak to the newcomer before he spoke to anyone else. “This waltz, it’s my favorite.”

  “Well, that is important to remember.” He grinned and offered his arm. “Shall we then?”

  “Excellent idea.” Dancing would bring her closer to Lady Norcroft and her partner. Then what?

  Oliver led her onto the floor and for the first time tonight, being in his arms was not uppermost in her mind.

  “Are you remembering something else?”

  “No,” she said absently, trying to find Oliver’s mother and her escort amidst the other swirling couples. It was very nearly impossible.

  “You seem somewhat preoccupied.”

  “Not at all.” Where were they?

  “I often find a particular work of music brings back all sorts of memories.”

  “Do you?” She scanned the crowd.

  “Of where I heard it first or last. Of a person or a place.”

  “How nice for you.” She craned her neck to see past him.

  “Perhaps if I were to be quiet.” His tone was dry, she scarcely noticed. “Something would occur to you.”

  “Perhaps.” Even though the ball was nearing an end, the floor and the grounds remained crowded. Soon, guests would begin to leave for home and finding anyone would be much easier. But that might well be too late.

  The music drew to a close and Oliver steered her to the edge of the dance floor. Concern shone in his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” She favored him with a bright smile. “Really quite fine.”

  His brow furrowed. “You don’t seem fine.”

  “I am rather…parched. Yes, that’s it. If you would be so good as to fetch me another glass of punch.”

  He studied her for a moment then nodded. “Of course.”

  Oliver headed toward the refreshment tables and the music started again. Where was he?

  “May I have the pleasure of this dance,” a deep, familiar voice sounded behind her.

  She whirled around. “What are you doing here?”

  He raised a brow. “Not the greeting I was expecting.”

  “Well, I was not expecting to greet you!”

  “I gather we have a great deal to talk about.” He chuckled. “Shall we talk while we dance?”

  “Don’t be absurd, we’re not going to dance.” She glanced toward Oliver. He had stopped to speak with someone and wouldn’t notice her absence for a few minutes. “We need to speak privately. There’s a great deal I should tell you. Come along.” She started off.

  He trailed after her and she could hear the grin in his voice. “You always have been a demanding sort.”

  She led him across the ballroom, down a corridor and fairly shoved him into the parlor. “Now then, Uncle, what are you doing here?”

  Uncle Malcolm, the Earl of Dumleavy, grinned. “I have come to rescue you, lass.”

  She stared in disbelief. “What do you mean rescue me? I don’t need rescuing. I have everything completely under control.”

  He wandered across the room to the fireplace and studied the portrait over the mantel. “That’s not what I hear.”

  “What precisely have you heard?” She narrowed her gaze. “And more to the point, from whom?”

  “The problem was we didn’t hear anything at first, from you or my sister either.” Malcolm cast her a chastising look. “I didn’t think sending the two of you off alone was a good idea right from the start. I should have come with you in the first place.”

  “So Grandmother sent you?”

  “Your grandmother and I discussed it. We knew you wouldn’t want me to interfere, but—”

  “But you came anyway.”

  He ignored her. “It’s been more than a fortnight since you left Scotland. When we didn’t receive so much as a cursory note, we decided I should come to London as well. Imagine my surprise when I discovered neither you nor Hannah was where you were supposed to be.”

  “I can see where that might have been a surprise,” she muttered. “It was not my doing.”

  “I am well aware of that. It wasn’t hard to determine where my sister had gone,” he said with a wry smile. “So from London I traveled to Lord Darlington’s estate.”

  She widened her eyes. “You saw Hannah? What did she tell you?”

  Malcolm leaned against the mantel, crossed his arms over his chest, and studied his niece thoughtfully, exactly as he had when she was a little girl and had done something she shouldn’t have. “An absurd tale about a ridiculous plan her devious mind had come up with. And how you refused to go along with it so she had taken matters into her own hands.”

  “How?” Kathleen demanded.

  “How?”

  “Yes, how?” She resisted the urge to stamp her foot as she might have when she was a child. “How did she take matters into her own hands?”

  He shook his head. “You’re not going to like it.”

  “I already don’t like it.” She braced herself. “Tell me the truth, Uncle.”

  He grimaced. “Magic.”

  “No, I don’t believe that. I won’t believe that.” She wrapped her arms around herself and paced the room. “It’s absurd.”

  “So you’ll believe in a curse but not in magic?”

  “Yes,” she snapped. “It’s an entirely different thing altogether. Everything that has happened to me, to you, to the entire family and now I realize to Oliver’s family as well, has convinced me that I have to believe in it because someone has to do something and that someone is me.”

  “So.” Malcolm said slowly. “You’ll believe in something as far-fetched as a curse but the fact that your mad aunt had a plan that requires you to pretend to lose your memory—”

  “Which I refused to go along with.”

  “And then you do in fact lose your memory, that is…a coincidence?”

  “Stranger things have happened in this world,” she said staunchly.

  He snorted. “Not very likely.”

  “Call it whatever you want but the fact remains—” She pulled up short and stared at him. “How did you know about my loss of memory? Hannah left before I woke up.”

  “And yet she knew.” He shrugged. “As she would if she had—”

  Kathleen held out her hand to stop him. “Don’t say it.”

  “As you wish.” He paused. “The spell has run its course then?”

  “There was no spell.” She clenched her teeth. She certainly was not going to tell him her loss of memory had lasted exactly one week. “I recovered my memory that was no doubt lost due to a blow to the head. It was a simple medical matter, nothing magical about it.”

  “That is neither here nor there at the moment I suppose. At any rate, Hannah told me where you were. By the way, she sent along your bags.”

  “The least she could do.”

  “I arrived in the village this morning and sent a note to Lady Norcroft.”

  Kathleen narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  “I thought it best to find out what you had gotten yourself into before I suddenly appeared. Lady Norcroft met me at the inn.”

  “Did she?”

  “She did indeed.” He chuckled. “She’s a fine figure of a woman, lass, with a spirit to match.”

  Kathleen groaned. She had seen that look in his eye before. “Uncle.”

  Malcolm grinned. “Are you not glad to see me, Kathleen?”

  “Glad?” At once the aching sense of being lost that had gripped her every minute that she hadn’t known her name swept through her and vanquished any annoyance she felt at his arrival. “Glad?” She could barely choke out the word.

  She threw herself into his embrace and she was a little girl again seeking comfort from the one man who had always been there to heal her hurts. “I have ne
ver been happier to see anyone in my life.”

  He stroked her hair. “It’s been hard for you, Kathleen?”

  “You have no idea.” She sniffed against his chest. “I didn’t know who I was, where I was from. I didn’t remember you or Grandmother or Hannah or Kenneth or anything. I didn’t know my name or what I was going to do. It’s been horrible.”

  His arms tightened around her. “My sister will have to be taken to task for this.”

  “For magic?” She choked back a giggle. “Not that I believe it, of course, but for the one time her magic might have worked?” She raised her head and gazed up at him. “I daresay grandmother will be thrilled.”

  “Your grandmother will be furious,” he said firmly and kissed the tip of her nose. “As am I.”

  “I do hope I’m not interrupting.” Oliver’s voice sounded from the doorway. “Kate?”

  Malcolm raised a brow. “You allow him to call you Kate?”

  Kathleen wrinkled her nose and stepped out of her uncle’s arms. “Oliver, I have something to tell you.”

  “I can see that.” Oliver stared, confusion and concern on his face. “Please God, don’t tell me this is your husband.”

  “Her husband? Don’t be absurd, lad.” Malcolm laughed. “I’m her uncle.”

  Chapter 16

  Oliver stared at the tall, rugged-looking man with the graying hair who had held Kate in his arms a moment ago. “Your uncle?”

  “I did tell you I had remembered I wasn’t married,” Kate said quickly. “May I introduce my uncle, the Earl of Dumleavy, Malcolm Armstrong. Uncle, this is Oliver, Lord Norcroft, the Earl of Norcroft.”

  Shock coursed through Oliver. His gaze jerked to Kate’s. “Your uncle?”

  Dumleavy inclined his head toward Kate. “If that’s all he can say, lass, you’ve made a bad bargain of it.”

  “She hasn’t made any bargain of it,” Oliver said sharply. “This is your uncle?”

  Dumleavy snorted.

  “Yes,” Kate said firmly.

  Oliver narrowed his eyes. “You remember him?”

  She nodded. “I do.”

  “Then your memory has returned?” Oliver said slowly.

  Kate smiled. “It has.”

  Oliver stared.

  “Oliver?” Unease sounded in her voice.

  “I have to admit, I’m somewhat taken aback. Of course, we knew or rather we hoped…” Oliver shook his head to clear it. “This is”—a slow grin spread across his face with the realization of exactly what this meant—“bloody marvelous. Kate, you must be pleased.”

  “I am,” she said with a relieved sigh.

  “When did you remember?”

  “A few days ago.”

  “A few days? Then it was before…” His grin widened and he stepped toward her. Dumleavy’s brow furrowed in a forbidding manner and Oliver thought better of it. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I did try,” she said. “I told you some of it.”

  He chuckled. “Indeed you did.”

  “Here you are, Oliver.” His mother sailed blithely into the room. “I see everyone has met.”

  “Not entirely.” Oliver caught Kate’s gaze. “I still have not had the pleasure.”

  “I’m not sure that’s quite accurate,” Kate said under her breath.

  Dumleavy’s gaze slid from Kate to Oliver and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. If the man wasn’t her uncle he certainly acted like one.

  “Nonetheless, Oliver, guests are leaving and we should bid them good evening.” Mother started toward the door.

  “Mother, Kate has recovered her memory.”

  “How lovely, dear.” She favored Kate with a warm smile. “While I confess to a great deal of curiosity, this will have to wait. For now, Oliver, we have obligations to attend to.”

  “Damnation.” She was right of course, but the last thing he wanted to do at the moment was take care of the social niceties that were as much a part of the tradition of the ball as everything else. What he wanted was to find out every detail about the woman who had worked her way into his affections. Still, he did know the most important thing and he supposed all else could wait. After all, they had the rest of their lives. “Very well then.” He met Kate’s gaze firmly. “Wait for me here.”

  “We won’t take a step outside this room,” Dumleavy said. “However, if you could see your way clear to send someone with a bit of refreshment, a wee draught of something tasty would be most welcome.”

  “My apologies, Lord Dumleavy. We are not usually so inhospitable. I’m afraid everyone’s attentions are focused on the out-of-doors festivities. I shall have something sent round at once.” Mother cast him a smile that, if Oliver didn’t know better, he would call flirtatious. “We have some excellent Scottish whisky. Will that do?”

  Dumleavy smiled in a slow and decidedly seductive manner. “Indeed it will, my lady. Indeed it will.”

  Oliver stared at the older man. What did he think he was doing?

  “Oliver?” His mother raised a brow. And what was she doing? “Are you coming?”

  “Yes, of course.” He paused at the doorway and looked back at Kate. “By the way, what is your name?”

  “Kathleen.”

  “Kathleen.” He thought for a moment. “It suits you.” He grinned and took his leave.

  Behind him Dumleavy said in a low voice. “I’d say that went well.”

  “That, Uncle, is just the beginning.” Kate—now Kathleen—sighed. “Until I tell him the…”

  Tell him what? Tell him everything of course.

  For the next endless hour or so Oliver smiled and nodded and made all sorts of polite, appropriate comments. It was difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand even though he had always liked this part of the evening. As he had told Kate—or rather Kathleen—it was all part and parcel of the continuation of life surrounding the manor and his family. While it was next to impossible to greet every guest upon arrival, given the less than formal nature of the ball and its setting, it had always been considered essential for the current earl, and or countess, to bid good evening to each guest and wish them well until next year. In reality, it was a small enough gesture but it made every person in attendance, be they wealthy landowner or tenant, feel valued and respected. His father and his grandfather before him and every title holder for as long as there had been an Earl of Norcroft had bid farewell to each and every guest at the end of the ball and Oliver was confident every earl to come would do so as well.

  Still, try as he might to ignore them, a hundred unanswered questions filled his head and demanded attention. Now at least he knew her name—Kathleen—and it did indeed suit her. And he knew her uncle was titled if indeed he was her uncle. Oliver would have to have some assurances on that score, not that he was suspicious but certainly caution was advisable. In spite of his earlier skepticism as to Kate—Kathleen’s—veracity, he had come to accept her situation. Now, he was willing to accept that this man was indeed her relation but it was only reasonable to expect, well, proof. Admittedly, Dumleavy’s obviously protective attitude was an indication as to his position. Beyond that, Oliver wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

  The moment the last guest had taken his leave and his cousins retired for the evening, Oliver made certain Berkley was escorted to his rooms. In spite of his eagerness to return to Kate—Kathleen, he trusted Berkley no more than he did any young man when it came to the girls. Finally, Oliver and his mother headed back to the parlor.

  “I must say this is exciting,” his mother said in a casual manner that belied her words. “I do hope you will keep an open mind.”

  “An open mind?” He drew his brows together. “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing really.” Mother shrugged. “It’s simply that, on occasion, you tend to be somewhat inflexible when it comes to anything of an…an unforeseen nature.”

  “Nonsense.” He scoffed. “I am completely open to the unexpected.”

  “We shall
see,” she murmured.

  The low hum of agitated voices sounded from the parlor. Oliver waved his mother ahead of him into the room, abruptly ending the conversation. Kate—Kathleen’s cheeks were flushed and a distinct note of tension hung in the air. Oliver wondered if they had had words and if so about what? Both uncle and niece stood near the fireplace and each had a glass of whisky in hand. And not, he suspected, their first.

  Again it struck him how very beautiful she was in the gown Madame DuBois had created. The color of the fabric reflected the green of her eyes and heightened the creamy color of her skin. The garment itself fit as though it was a part of her, caressing the curves of her body like a second skin. Lucky gown.

  His gaze met Kate’s—Kathleen’s. He should try to think of her as Kathleen but Kate was the woman he had come to know. “Are you all right?”

  She slanted a quick glance at her uncle, then nodded. “Quite.”

  “How lovely, all of us here together.” Mother beamed at the guests. “Oliver, do be a dear and fetch me a glass of whatever it is they’re drinking.”

  “Whisky, I suspect.” Oliver crossed the room to where a crystal decanter that matched the one in his room sat on a tray amid several additional glasses. Hollinger, once again, had anticipated what would be needed.

  “Do allow me, Lady Norcroft.” Dumleavy smoothly stepped around Oliver, poured a glass, then presented it to Oliver’s mother with a slight bow. “I should warn you, it’s not for the faint of heart.”

  “Excellent.” Mother gazed into the older man’s eyes. “Neither am I.”

  “Mother!” Surprise sharpened Oliver’s tone.

  Dumleavy chuckled in a decidedly wicked manner. Apparently, young Berkley wasn’t the only one Oliver would have to keep an eye on.

  “Do pour yourself something to drink, Oliver,” his mother said firmly. “Kathleen has a great deal to tell us.”