by Julia London
“Mrs. Williams?”
“The cook,” he said, as he carefully put the tray down on the end of the bed. “She’s gone on holiday, to visit her sister in Brighton.”
Kate gaped at him.
He grinned proudly. “They’ve gone, all of them on holiday. We shall either survive by our sheer wits and cunning, or they will find us perished somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchens for want of food, for there is no one left in this dreary little castle but you and me.”
“Grayson!” she cried happily. “Do you mean it? Even Mr. Noakes?”
He laughed. “Especially Mr. Noakes. He’d never leave us be.” He smiled down at her. “It’s not a cottage, but at least, for a few days, it is ours and ours alone.”
She surged up and threw her arms around his neck.
“It’s freezing,” Grayson said, and pushed her back into the pillows and covered her up. “I will not allow you to catch your death at the first sign of freedom,” he said, fetching her chemise and another blanket. “Now I grant you the toast looks rather bleak, but Mrs. Williams assured me that with a good butter knife and an adequate amount of jam, we might manage to swallow it down nonetheless.”
Kate pulled on the dressing gown and reached for a piece and took a bite. “I think it is possibly the most delicious toast I have ever tasted,” she proclaimed.
After the burned breakfast, Grayson had Kate dress very warmly in a pair of buckskins he’d found in one of the closed rooms. “I don’t know who they belong to, but I think they will do.”
“I don’t like them,” Kate said, wrinkling her nose as she twisted around to see them on her body. “What sort of game requires that I wear them?”
“It’s not a game, darling,” he said, and Kate realized she very much loved the way he said darling. “I thought I’d teach you to ride a horse.”
“A horse!” she cried with delight. “I’ve always wanted to ride one! But… but can you actually dress one with a saddle and whatnot?”
Grayson laughed. “I have servants, Kate, but I am not entirely addled. I am quite capable of saddling a horse.”
The news that she was to ride a horse elated Kate.
She trudged alongside Grayson to the stables wearing a pair of boys’ boots Digby had insisted she bring, and the buckskins, which they’d managed to cinch up with one of his neck cloths, as well as her fur-lined cloak.
She fairly skipped inside the stables when Grayson pulled the large door open. But the horse in the first stall towered over her, and worse, he looked down at her with an enormous brown eye.
Kate had a sudden change of heart. “No!” she said adamantly.
“No?” Grayson echoed. “I will not accept a no, madam. You wanted this.”
“Yes, indeed I said I should like to be alone with you, Christie, but I did not mean to die for it,” she insisted.
“Die for it!” Grayson cried. “Have you no faith in yourself? Or my horses? I will have you know that I purchase only the finest horseflesh from the finest horse trader in all of Britain and Ireland! Lord Donnelly is my good friend and he would not have sold me a murderous equine!”
“Why can I not ride with you?” she pleaded.
“Come now, it’s all really quite easy. Just use your knees and your hands and let the horse do the rest.”
“No,” she said resolutely, folding her arms. “I will not climb on that beast.”
“Do you not want to know the thrill of being on the back of a horse?”
“Not at my own peril!”
In the end, Grayson relented and put her on his mount, in the saddle before him. She very much enjoyed the intimacy of that, and snuggled back against him. “Move like that once more, lass, and you will discover what peril you truly risk,” he growled as they rode from the paddock.
With a laugh, Kate wiggled against him. In retaliation, Grayson sent the horse galloping into the park, laughing at her squeals of fright.
They rode down to the river, where they dismounted. Holding hands, they walked along the banks, pausing occasionally to examine a curious rock, or for Grayson to point out the various types of trees that grew close to the banks of the river.
Then Grayson showed her the game of chase he and his siblings used to play as children. Kate was very quick on her feet in spite of her clunky boots. It seemed to surprise Grayson that she managed to stay just beyond his reach. In frustration, he lunged and grabbed her, but he lost his footing, and the two of them went down, rolling down an embankment.
Kate landed facedown, on her belly.
“Kate!” Grayson cried, and scrambled to her side. “Dear God,” he said anxiously and rolled her onto her back. Kate flung her arms wide and lay there with her eyes closed.
“Kate,” he said, cupping her face with his hands.
She suddenly opened her eyes and laughed up at the blue sky.
“Damn your hide,” Grayson said, and smothered her laughter with kisses.
When they picked themselves up from the ground— and the leaves from her hair—Grayson announced that it was Kate’s turn.
“My turn for what?” she asked breathlessly.
“To teach me a game from your childhood.”
She laughed. “We didn’t play many games.”
“You were a child once. Children play games,” he said, his hands on his hips. “Let’s have one.”
“All right,” she said. “But I must warn you, you will not care for it. I thought it disgraceful and I must make it quite clear that I never played.”
“I’m curious now—what is the game?”
“Very well,” Kate said. She pushed him with her hands, forcing him back a step or two. “Stand there and pretend to be a gentleman.”
“As opposed to the rogue that I am, I suppose,” he said with a laugh.
“You are on a crowded London street,” she said, walking in a circle around him, studying him. “There are people all round, bumping into you quite accidentally. But you hardly notice, because you are perusing the wares of a particular merchant—let me think, what would a duke want to purchase? Quills! That’s it, you mean to purchase some quills.”
“I’ve never purchased a quill in my life,” Grayson said with a grin. “But I shall pretend it.”
“Peruse, peruse,” Kate said, gesturing for him to turn his head. “And remember, there are people here and there, and a lot of jostling about. Someone shouts, look there!” she cried, and whirled around.
Grayson looked behind her.
“Someone cries thief, thief! And you look to see where he is running!”
Grayson looked at her.
“Try and see,” she urged him. He did as she asked, attempting to step around her.
“But as you move, you bump into a child you’ve not seen before,” she said, and collided quite hard with him. She quickly stepped back, grinning with delight. Grayson looked confused. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said sweetly.
“What is the game?” he asked. “I don’t understand.”
With a laugh, Kate held up his pocket watch. Stunned, Grayson looked down to the pocket of his waistcoat, from which she had snatched the watch when she collided with him. “The devil you say!”
Kate laughed again and curtsied deeply as she held it out to him. “I assure you, I have never been a cutpurse. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. Unfortunately, Jude was not as careful with his moral virtue as was I and he taught me how to do it, should I ever need to know.”
Something clouded Grayson’s eyes for a sliver of a moment, and Kate instantly regretted showing him the game. Digby had once told her she was far too forthcoming, and she guessed this was one of those times. “I’m famished!” she said lightly in an attempt to change the subject.
They ate the cheese and nuts Grayson had brought. Afterward, the encroachment of clouds from the west brought an end to their outing and sent them back to the lodge.
Kate left Grayson in the stables to tend to the horses and walked up to the lodge, which now
seemed even larger to her with no one about. She changed from the buckskins—which, frankly, weren’t so bad after all—and into a suitable gown for the late afternoon. She had begun the evening meal preparation when Grayson joined her a half hour later.
He’d removed his waistcoat and neck cloth and looked like a cobbler with one arm shoved into a boot he was polishing. As Kate made the pastries for which she’d needed the rose hips, she asked him about his childhood. She imagined children in fine clothing, playing chase on a green lawn.
She and Jude had built playhouses with rotten potatoes.
Grayson shrugged as he polished. “I was the eldest and the heir, and as such, many expectations were placed on me. My schooling had to be done in a certain manner. I had to attend royal functions. I was expected to go abroad and sow my wild oats before returning to study being a duke at my father’s knee.” He paused a moment. “He was an excellent duke, my father. And he was taken from us far too soon.”
“I am sorry,” Kate said. “Was it an illness?”
“No,” Grayson said, frowning at the memory. “Quite the opposite, in fact. He’d never been sick a day in his life that I can recall, but one day, his heart suddenly stopped working. And just like that, he was gone. And just like that, I was a duke.”
“But you were prepared.”
“Not at all,” Grayson said. “There is not enough schooling in the world to prepare one for it. I knew the sorts of things that must be done, but I was not the least bit prepared for the enormous pressure of it all. When the livelihood of dozens depends on you, or the happiness of so many whose marriages must be made on the basis of compatibility and advantage to the Christophers, or one’s public persona must reflect the morals of title and family, the pressure can feel quite heavy.” He put one boot down and picked up the other one. “What of you, Kate? What sort of child were you?”
“Oh, I scarcely remember, really,” she said, thinking back. “In a strange way, I was like you in that there were quite a lot of expectations of me. Not the same sort, obviously, but when my mother died, and there wasn’t enough money, and it was my responsibility to look after Jude, and to bring in money in any manner that I could.”
Grayson looked up, his expression one of shock.
It made Kate feel strange. She put down her bowl and rubbed her hands on the apron she’d found. “Now what have I done with the rose hips?”
Grayson did not ask her any more questions about her childhood, which she supposed was just as well. She thought she’d probably said more than she ought to have said anyway. Pickpockets and match girls, as if he needed to be reminded of her ignoble beginnings!
Fortunately, he began to regale her with tales of his friends, and Kate relaxed. She was quite happy that the meal of Cornish game hens turned out as well as it did and Grayson’s fear that they would not starve banished. He was very pleased with her pastries, which he declared the best he’d ever eaten. Kate didn’t believe it for a moment, but she was flattered all the same.
After they’d eaten their fill, they wandered into the drawing room, where Grayson built a fire in the hearth. “Do you play chess?” he asked.
“Never,” Kate said.
“Come then, you must learn.” He brought the game into the room—a marble board with marble figures—and explained the basics of the game.
Kate lost the first game far too easily. However, she was pleased that it took Grayson a little longer to defeat her a second time.
The third match took them into the early morning hours, but Kate won her first chess match.
“You’re very clever, are you aware?” Grayson said with a fond smile at her squeal of delight when she had him at checkmate.
“I’m not very clever at all,” she said with a wink as she stretched her arms high above her head. “But I do know when a gentleman allows me to win.”
He did not deny it; he smiled warmly as he put out his hand to her. “Shall we retire, madam?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she sighed happily. With their arms around one another’s waist, they walked to the Queen’s room, pausing every few feet to snuff the candles.
They made love slowly and easily, in a manner that might have suggested they didn’t believe the morrow would come, that there was no moment but this one.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Grayson had just built a kitchen fire the next morning when a caller announced their presence by banging on the front door.
He glanced at his pocket watch—it was a quarter to ten. As he walked briskly to the front door, the banging came again, only louder. The caller was clearly impatient.
Grayson opened the front door to a pair of women who bore some resemblance to each other, however one was old enough to be his mother. Grayson instantly assumed the younger was unmarried and the elder was determined to gain an introduction to the duke—it wouldn’t be the first time it had happened. “Yes?” he asked impatiently.
The older woman squinted up at him. “How long have you been at Kitridge?” she demanded. “I’ve not seen you in Hadley Green.”
“I only just arrived,” he said, momentarily knocked off balance by her blunt question.
“Mamma,” the younger woman said. “Might you introduce yourself before you begin questioning the poor man?”
“I beg your pardon, sir I am Mrs. Edward Ogle, and this is my daughter, Mrs. Theodore Blakely. We have come to pay our respects to the duke, who we are given to understand has come to winter at Kitridge.”
“Winter in Kitridge?” Grayson said. “Like an old bear who has wandered off to hibernate?”
“Pardon?” She frowned irritably. “Please inform the duke we have come.” She held out her hand. “Here is my calling card.”
Grayson almost laughed—he leaned up against the jamb and shoved his thumb in the waist of his trousers. “I’ll give it to the old bear, all right.”
Mrs. Ogle gestured impatiently to the door. “The common practice is to take the calling card to the lord of the house, young man.”
“The duke is indisposed at present.”
Mrs. Ogle did not respond; she’d shifted her gaze to a point behind him. Grayson looked over his shoulder and saw what they’d noticed—Kate had entered the hall in her dressing gown and her hair was loose about her shoulders.
“Mamma, we must go at once,” Mrs. Blakely muttered, and was suddenly studying her feet. But her mother was gaping at Kate. She snapped her gaze to Grayson. “I cannot believe that a man of the duke’s stature would tolerate such… such immoral acts in his lodge under his very nose! Where is he? And how can you be so casual with your employer’s honor in the middle of the day, sir? That may be the way in London, but it is not the way in Hadley Green!”
“I am hardly casual with my honor, madam, but I do believe a man might do as he pleases in his own home. For your information, I am the duke of Darlington, and I am wondering how one woman could be so meddlesome before noon!”
“Oh dear God,” Mrs. Blakely muttered. “Mamma, come away!” she pleaded, putting her hand on her mother’s arm and turning toward the drive. “Please don’t make this any worse than you have. Please.”
But Mrs. Ogle was suddenly all smiles. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said, dipping into a graceful curtsy as if they’d just been properly introduced. “I confess, I’ve not seen you since you were a wee lad, and I did not realize…” She laughed lightly. “Had you not answered your own door, I would have never assumed you were a servant.”
“Yes,” he drawled, straightening up. “That is rather clear. And now that you have made your acquaintance known—”
“I welcome you with open arms to Hadley Green,” she said, as if nothing had happened. “We’ve not seen your esteemed family in some time, and it is a delight for us all to welcome you into our fold.”
“I do not intend to enter the fold, Mrs. Ogle,” Grayson said. “We will be returning to London shortly.”
“Oh!” Mrs. Ogle looked at Kate.
> “Good day, Mrs. Ogle. Mrs. Blakely,” Grayson said and moved to shut the door.
“I hope you will not be a stranger to Hadley Green!” Mrs. Ogle called out to him. “I think you will find it quite tranquil here. I understand it is very restorative!”
Grayson shut the door.
Kate hurried to the front receiving room and looked out the window as the two women walked back to their curricle, the younger daughter pulling her mother along. “Unbelievable!” Kate said as Grayson stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. “At least we won’t have to endure them at some social function.” She twisted around in his arms and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Did you burn the toast?”
“Just for you,” he said with a wink.
“I must return to London on the morrow,” Grayson said the following afternoon as the two of them soaked in a bath before the kitchen hearth. A light snow was falling outside; they could see the fat flakes coming down outside the small kitchen window.
“Tomorrow?” Kate repeated, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. “So soon?”
Grayson smiled sympathetically. “We’ve been away four days now, and unfortunately, I have many responsibilities that will be neglected if I don’t return.” He teased her between her legs with his foot. “I promised Merrick I wouldn’t be away long. The abolition vote will happen shortly after the parliamentary session opens, and he is still rounding up the necessary votes.” He lifted his foot to her breast. “He needs me.”
Kate needed him. She needed him more with each passing moment. She needed Kitridge Lodge, and this bath, and the pastries she’d made, and the riding in the park and the archery he’d attempted to teach her this afternoon before the cold drove them inside. She never wanted this holiday to end. She never wanted to face the truth of her life again. She swirled her fingers on the water’s surface.
