by Donna Hatch
With a wistful sigh, she memorized the beauty of his features. Surely, she would not be allowed to admire them much longer. Still, she’d enjoy them while she could and tuck them away with her other Sweet Memories.
Chapter Twelve
Kit gaped at the vision in a cream silk creation. This was his little waif? With color in her cheeks, a serene smile, and an aura of happiness around her, she glided into the room like a queen.
Forgetting whatever he’d been saying to Daubrey, Kit moved to her side. She smelled amazing too. Her perfume was feminine and mysterious. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his lips and kissed it. “You look beautiful.”
Her endearing blush returned. “You do, too.”
“In truth?” He struck a pose. “You think so?”
Her color deepened but she didn’t duck her head. Instead, she raised her chin and met his gaze boldly. “Yes. I’ve never seen such a beautiful man.”
“Careful.” He grinned. “You might feed my arrogance too much.”
A charmingly teasing glitter entered her eyes. “You are also a talented musician. Have I told you that?”
He affected a pout. “No, I don’t believe you have. I was feeling rather out of sorts that you hadn’t fed my pride yet.”
She laughed softly. “Speaking of music, why aren’t you playing tonight?”
He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “I told Alex I had a vexing family obligation so the second chair is taking my place. Besides, I cannot bear to play that duet with anyone but you. The other principal harpist simply doesn’t perform with as much heart as you.”
She smiled so dazzlingly that he nearly dropped to his knees and begged her to marry him. He pictured spending his days with her, taking her on long rambles through the grounds around their home. He imagined teaching her to ride, and having picnics in a grassy meadow. Lastly, he conjured up images of a houseful of children playing music and laughing and chasing each other. The thought of marrying Susanna conjured warmth and a sense of completion.
She stood near enough that each motion, each breath sent shivers of awareness through him. Her intriguing scent—flowery, with citrus and something warm, evoked visions of kisses. Yes, he wanted very much to kiss her. He visualized kissing her any time he wanted, and even waking up with her in his arms.
From the foyer, the butler’s alarmed voice broke through his thoughts. “You cannot force your way in here. Sir!” Footsteps neared. “Sir!”
“This cannot wait,” said a strange male voice.
“My lord!” the butler burst in. “Forgive me, but these men insist on—”
That unfamiliar male voice interrupted. “I have a warrant for the arrest of one Susanna Dyer.”
Disbelief chilled Kit’s limbs. In the doorway, the harried-looking butler stood next to a grim-faced London constable and the bounder who had made a grab for Susanna in the streets.
“What?” cried Esther.
Susanna sharply drew in her breath. “Oh,” she said in tiny voice.
Kit took a protective step in front of her.
Daubrey sprang to action. “How dare you barge into my home?”
As both lawmen stiffened, the constable spoke in apologetic tones. “Sorry gov’na, but she is a thief. I have been instructed to see to it that she returns to face the local magistrate for her crime.”
Summoning the imperious expression he’d so often seen in his father and that of his brother, Kit held out his hand and commanded, “Show me your warrant.”
The constable handed over a document with an official seal at the bottom. Daubrey peered over his shoulder. With his heart turning to stone, Kit glanced at his brother-in-law.
Daubrey nodded. “It’s official.”
“Ridiculous. I don’t believe it,” Esther said.
Alarm shot down Kit’s back like a hundred beestings. He called upon every haughty, autocratic bone in his ancestry and drew himself up. “You cannot take her.”
“Sir, I understand that this may be—” the constable began.
“Lord.” Kit glared at him.
The constable’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Er…sir?”
Kit drew himself up and sneered. “Do you two thugs have any idea who we are?”
Both men paled and the constable managed an inarticulate. “Ah…”
The man from the country rallied first. “Don’t care. She’s a criminal, and you are interfering with justice.”
Susanna’s breath came in tiny gasps. “I’m not a criminal. I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Kit looked down his nose at the cur. If it came to a fair fight, this man, built like a prize fighter, could probably best Kit. Still, Kit had weapons he would not hesitate to unleash. “I am Lord Christopher, son of the Duke of Charlemonte. You are in the home of my brother-in-law and sister, the Viscount and Lady Daubrey. If you think you can take their guest—and my betrothed—without irrefutable proof, you are sadly mistaken.”
Susanna sucked in her breath at his use of the word “betrothed” but kept silent. He didn’t dare look at her. This wasn’t the way he’d planned it, but the words had come tumbling out of him. The hired thug swallowed and the constable took a step back.
Fisting his hands, Kit pressed, “I require you to provide proof—and witnesses—of her so-called crime before I will consider escorting her to face her accusers and this magistrate who they clearly duped into swearing out a warrant for her arrest.”
The hired man’s face reddened. “Absolutely not. Lord or no lord, you are not above the law, and neither is your little tart.”
Kit’s temper snapped and he punched the bounder square in the face. “How dare you, sirrah!”
The hired man stumbled backwards and lost his balance. He sprawled on the floor. In a half-inclined position, he dabbed at his lip and shot a murderous glare at Kit. “You….”
The constable stepped in between them. “No need for all this. We can place her under house arrest and leave her here in the care of…Lord Daubrey, was it?”
Daubrey inclined his head.
“I’m sure we can get this matter cleared up,” the constable continued. “Please forgive the intrusion, milords. Milady.”
The London constable grabbed his companion and half-dragged him out, murmuring something about jurisdiction, magistrates, and how things are done in London.
A stunned silence fell.
“Those brutes,” Esther said, her eyes snapping. “How dare they come into our home like that.”
Kit turned to Susanna. All the color had drained out of her face.
He put a hand on either shoulder and peered into her eyes. “No magistrate will call for your forcible removal from a viscount’s home. As long as you stay within the grounds, they cannot touch you.”
Trembling, she fixed a sober look at him. “It wasn’t necessary for you to lie for me about being your betrothed.”
“It will strengthen our claim of protection on you.” He smiled. It had felt so natural to declare her to be his intended bride.
“I can’t stay here forever—I won’t impose on the Daubrey’s longer than I must.”
“When they can’t prove you’ve actually done anything wrong, they will be forced to drop the charges.” He touched her cheek.
“And you know it’s no imposition,” huffed Esther.
“I still can’t imagine why my aunt wants me back. They were so eager to be rid of me.”
Kit kept his hand on her cheek. “I’ll make inquiries in the morning. Until then, try not to dwell on it.” He yearned to hold her close, to reassure and comfort her. He dropped his hand before he did anything to embarrass Susanna. With her so overset, now would be a terrible time to pull her into his arms and kiss her.
Daubrey poured a drink and returned with a glass of sherry. He offered it to Susanna. “Drink. It will settle your nerves.”
Susanna shook her head. “I’ve never had a strong drink.”
“Now might be a good time to start,” Daubrey said.
“Thank you, but no,” Susanna said firmly.
Esther took it. “I need that.” She gulped it down.
Susanna stood looking as if she were all alone in the world. Kit gave in to his desires and gently drew Susanna into his arms.
Softly, he said, “I won’t let them have you, I vow it.”
She let out a little sigh and rested against him. For a blissful moment, Kit basked in the glory of holding her in his arms. She felt so right.
Daubrey chuckled. “Well done, Kit. You certainly put those peasants back in their place.”
Esther’s face relaxed and she joined in with Daubrey. Kit smiled in spite of himself. He’d never pulled rank like that—he had never felt the need. When his little Susanna was threatened, it had seemed the easiest weapon. He would do whatever he must to keep her safe.
Susanna stiffened and pulled away. “Wait. You said…are you really Lord Christopher? Son of the Duke of Charlemonte?”
He almost groaned out loud. “Yes. Never fear, I’m his youngest son, so I’m in no danger of becoming a duke.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile.
Her eyes wide, she took another step back.
He reached for her. “Please don’t hold that against me. I’m still Kit.”
She twisted her hands and glanced at Esther. “I don’t belong here.”
Esther gave her a gently scolding look. “Of course you do. You are the daughter of a gentleman and you are my friend. Our friend.” She glanced at Kit. Her smile broadened as if some unholy thought buzzed around in her conniving head. Of course. She probably began planning the wedding the moment he used the word betrothed. He grinned at the thought.
Soon, he would make that official. Of course, he probably ought to formally ask Susanna if she would have him before he bought the wedding ring and obtained a license. Wedding ring. Hmm. He had an idea about that.
A footman, dressed in full livery, announced the arrival of their first guest. In all the uproar over the lawmen, Kit had forgotten all about the dinner party.
He glanced at Susanna. Her face was still pale and her hands continued to tremble. He lowered his voice. “Change your mind about that drink?”
She shook her head. He offered her his arm and stood next to her, sending a clear message to all the guests that she and he had an understanding—it wasn’t true, of course, since she hadn’t exactly agreed to anything despite his declaration to the constable. Still, having her next to him gave him supreme pleasure and instilled a new, quiet confidence he’d never experienced with another woman. He very much wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. The knowledge created a cocoon of peace around him.
Susanna took several deep breaths, visibly calming with each one. By the time they greeted their first guest, Susanna had rallied so completely that no one would have guessed what had transpired only moments ago. She sailed through introductions with all the poise of a seasoned Londoner—warm, genuine, and mildly reticent which only added to her charm.
A fair number of ladies twittered over Kit, making overt comments about how they hadn’t seen him in an age and where had he been? By the end of the evening, several of the male guests were so enamored of Susanna that Kit didn’t dare leave her side or they’d be panting all over her.
Egad, he had not missed the social whirl. A benefit of maintaining the façade of Kit the violin player was that he’d been spared the silly society games, the false smiles, and most of all, living under his father’s thumb. He’d taken a chance agreeing to attend his sister’s dinner party. Knowing Susanna must face the dragons of society prompted his acquiescence. How glad he was that he’d attended this evening, for more than one reason.
After dinner, games, idle chit chat, and a brief discussion about the war that Daubrey deftly diverted to less weighty matters, the guests finally took their leave. The house fell into silence. The servants seemed to let out a collective breath.
Kit glanced at Susanna. She eyed him soberly. Then she did the unexpected. She laughed. She laughed—a full belly-laugh of such mirth that he couldn’t help but join in, even though he had no idea what had set her off. Esther joined in next, and even Daubrey chuckled.
“Whatever is so funny?” Kit finally managed.
Susanna wiped tears from her eyes and shook her head. “It was so absurd. All this time, I had thought the upper class of society would be so very far above me.” She lifted her shoulders. Then she sobered, as if stopping herself, and addressed Tess and Daubrey. “I mean no offense to you or your friends.”
Still smiling, Tess waved her hand. “Speak your mind, Susanna, you are amid friends. They are surely talking about us.”
Susanna hesitated before forging on, “Conversing with them was no more taxing than conversing with villagers of my acquaintance back home. These members of the ton were not any wiser or wittier. I cannot imagine why I was so afraid to meet your friends. They were not terrifying in the least. On the contrary, they were really quite delightful and so very normal.”
Kit took her hand. “You are absolutely right. So no more talk of whether or not you belong among them—in fact, you far outshone the brightest of them.”
“I’m sure I did not, but I thank you for saying so.” She smiled. “I can’t afford the clothing or jewels they wore…”
“That is all they have over you, and easily remedied. All you need is a husband to pay for the clothing you deserve.”
She chuckled. “Yes, well, the evening was notably absent of all offers of that kind.”
He lifted his brow and cocked his head. “Was it?”
She looked down. “You didn’t mean that. It was just a way of telling the constable you were protecting me.”
“I did mean it. I do want to marry you. Will you have me?”
Before this past week, he’d never given much thought to marriage. He’d always assumed he might do it someday but had never known anyone with whom he might consider sharing his life. Then he met Susanna. She brought out the best parts of him, the parts of him that were honorable, gallant, protective, strong. She reminded him of the importance of family. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to make music and laughter and children with her.
She went very still and her eyes grew round.
He took her hand. “This isn’t how it’s done, but since your father and brother are gone, and your uncle is out of your life, I have no one to ask permission.”
“Kit….”
“I know this is sudden. We haven’t known each other long.” He swallowed. This was probably the wrong way to go about it, but he forged ahead. “You are the one I’ve been looking for. Please, will you do me the very great honor of becoming my wife?”
Her breathing came fast and she took a step back. “You can’t be in earnest.”
“I don’t care who your father is, and I don’t care if you have little to no dowry. Please, marry me?”
She shook her head helplessly. “Kit…”
“I can take care of you, protect you from your relatives and men like that thug your aunt sent after you.”
She folded her hands and all the light in her eyes dimmed. “I’m sorry. My answer is no.” She curtsied formally, nodded to Esther and Daubrey. “Thank you for a lovely evening. I shall retire now.”
As she walked away from him, Kit stood, trying not to fold under the sensation that he’d been kicked in the stomach.
“Oh, Kit.” Esther put her hand over her mouth, her eyes bright with tears.
“Good night, Tess. Daubrey.” Empty down to his soul, he strode out of the house and into the night, alone.
Chapter Thirteen
Susanna held onto her composure until after Polly helped her out of her gown and stays, blew out the candles, and left. Only then did Susanna curl up and allow her tears to flow. She sobbed like a child. She’d found the man of her dreams, a man she loved beyond all her hopes and expectations, but he only viewed her as an object of charity. He only saw her as a pitiable waif in need of protection. He was ga
llant enough to go through with his impromptu marriage proposal. Eventually, however, he would realize he had made a terrible mistake. He’d been kind to her but he clearly did not love her. How could he? He deserved someone beautiful and polished, and preferably the daughter of a peer—or at the very least a member of the gentry with a respectable dowry.
How tempting it had been to accept! He offered her safety and all the basic necessities of life. But the thought of marrying someone who did not love her and who might grow to regret his alliance with her, left her cold and empty.
In addition to add to that sad truth, he was the son of a duke. No one of his rank should marry someone as poor and unimportant as she.
She would make all haste to find employment and leave. Though she’d miss her dear friend Esther terribly, remaining here under her roof after rejecting her brother’s kind offer would be unconscionable. Worse, Susanna risked seeing Kit time and again, continually reminded of who she desperately wanted, needed, loved, yet could not have.
After meeting with his attorney and giving him a very specific assignment, Kit walked several miles to his parent’s London house. He stood on the drive leading to the portico in front of the house. Though he spent most of his childhood in the country when he wasn’t at school, a range of memories flitted over him of times he’d spent in this house as well—playing with his brother and cousins, and pretending he didn’t want his little sister tagging along, learning to ride, violin lessons, outings to the park and museums and private zoos, and even his first kiss.
Over it all loomed the shadow of his father, always correcting, prodding, disapproving, and generally managing every aspect of Kit’s life. And when Kit had learned first-hand the horrors of slavery in their plantations, he’d been unable to enjoy any luxury of home. Once Kit left, without bending to accept even a single farthing of his allowance, he had experienced a measure of freedom and satisfaction that only comes from self-reliance, as well as a sense of pride at his accomplishments that he’d never experienced before. Still, he missed his father. He missed their lively debates, the chess games, the knowledge that if he encountered an obstacle too big to manage, he could turn to his father for help. That help might come with a price, but he’d always been secure that he wasn’t expected to face all his challenges alone. Since he left home, he’d been alone. Oh, he had friends, and his music, but they failed to take the place of family. He’d been alone for far too long.
