by Diana Quincy
“Our guests are here,” she said in a gentle reminder that they should greet the arrivals.
His breaths came short and sharp. “I vow the wedding cannot come soon enough.”
Disengaging from him, she gave a teasing smile. “But the anticipation is what makes a betrothal so amusing.”
He tugged his waistcoat straight and offered his arm. “I would not describe it as amusing. More like tortuous.” She took his arm, recognizing his frustration, but not really comprehending it.
Her father’s Mayfair townhome had begun to fill. An invitation to the betrothal ball of Lady Katherine Granville, daughter of the Earl of Nugent, to the handsome and well-regarded Lawrence Sinclair, the fourth Viscount Sinclair, was the most coveted event of the Season. Despite her advanced age, Kat had remained the ton’s reigning beauty for several Seasons. And, in addition to his title, looks, and considerable purse, Laurie possessed an innate kindness and effortless charm that attracted people’s regard. Both were shining lights in the ton and, to all outward appearances, an ideal couple.
She threw herself into enjoying the party. As usual, her dance card was full, but she’d taken care to reserve a waltz and the supper dance for her intended. When she wasn’t on the dance floor, Kat held court with a group of merry friends, which included her cousin and best friend, Beatrice. Kat never took her popularity seriously, but she did enjoy it. It was certainly preferable to being a wallflower. During a break in the dancing, she wandered off to fetch lemonade with Bea, anxious for something to cool her since the air in the crowded ballroom had grown stiff and humid. Sipping her drink, Bea watched Laurie dance with Alexis Campbell, one of the girls from their set.
“He is very fine,” Bea said. “You are most fortunate.”
Kat sipped her lemonade, following Bea’s gaze. Laurie was well formed and uncommonly handsome with those flashing blue eyes and firm jaw. His hair, like hers, was a golden blond. The idea of being joined to him for all eternity made it difficult to breathe; her ribs felt as though a tight band was wrapped around them. Taking a deep inhale, she fought the suffocating sensation, and changed the subject. “Tell me, is your brother coming?”
A shadow crossed Bea’s face. “Toby assured me he would attend, but he still finds crowds difficult.”
She put a hand on Bea’s arm. “Does he continue to be unwell?”
“That awful war has ruined him.” Tears welled in Bea’s eyes. “You know how he was before, so charming and amusing. Now he’s touched in the head.” She swiped a tear away. “Sometimes he is all that is agreeable, but then he experiences one of his episodes.”
Kat’s throat squeezed. Dear Toby had always brought a certain liveliness to any party, and hostesses had clamored to have him grace their tables. Yet, since returning from the war, he’d avoided most large gatherings. She squeezed her cousin’s hand, feeling protective of both Bea and Toby. “Hush, Toby just needs time. You mustn’t let anyone hear you suggest he has windmills in his head.”
“You have the right of it, of course.” Bea braved a shaky smile. “Toby is bringing a friend with him tonight, his commanding officer, I think he said.”
A heavy weight compressed Kat’s chest. Talk of the war always reminded her of Edward. It had affected Toby’s mind, but at least her cousin had returned home at the end of the fighting. Edward hadn’t bothered. She’d heard he’d gone off to India instead. He’d not only abandoned her, but he’d clearly forgotten she even existed. Kat forced her thoughts away from him, but the tiny shadow of pain in her gut, which had lingered since their final evening together, remained.
When the music came to an end, Kat watched Laurie approach with Lexie Campbell on his arm. She favored her intended with an incandescent smile.
Laurie’s eyes lit with appreciation and he sketched a bow. “Lady Katherine, Miss Hobart, Miss Campbell. I am surrounded by all that is beautiful.” He addressed them all, but his gaze remained fastened on Kat. “I am the most fortunate of men.”
Lexie eyed Kat. “That is the most delightful gown I have ever seen. You sicken me, Kat. Do you never look poorly?”
Kat uttered a delighted laugh and smoothed a hand down her bodice. “Nonsense, your gown is lovely as well.”
Lexie shot her a disbelieving look before casting her gaze around the crowded room. “They say the Earl of Randolph is in attendance. Have any of you seen him?”
Kat drew a blank. “Who is the Earl of Randolph?”
“Some war hero.” Ever solicitous, Laurie took the empty lemonade glass from Kat to hand off to a footman. His manicured masculine fingers brushed hers, lingering far longer than necessary.
Kat’s cheeks warmed when her gaze met Laurie’s flirtatious one. “An earl who is a war hero?” she asked, looking away.
Beatrice’s face lit up. “That must be the friend who is accompanying my brother this evening. Toby said the gentleman was granted an earldom for his brilliant service in the war.”
“Is he a gentleman?” Kat’s curiosity sparked. “I’ve never heard of him.”
“It is a new title,” Laurie said. “I believe he recently arrived home from abroad to receive it.”
“New or old, a title is a title.” Lexie scanned the room. “His wife will be a countess. Perhaps I should set my sights on Randolph now that Kat has brought Laurie up to scratch.”
Intrigued, Kat wanted to know more about the mysterious Lord Randolph, but Willis, the butler, alerted her that it was time for the announcement. She took the arm Laurie offered and sought out her father.
Her father, the Earl of Nugent, signaled for the orchestra to stop playing. The loud chattering came to a stop as the crowd directed its attention to where Kat’s father stood on the elevated landing. With his shock of gray hair and trim form, Kat’s father remained an attractive man in his forty-ninth year.
“Thank you for joining us on this auspicious occasion,” he said. “It is with profound pleasure that we host this event this evening.”
Kat and Laurie joined him on the landing. When she looked out into the sea of people, Kat’s nerves erupted again and the insides of her hands started to itch. Suffocating heat pressed against her skin; the warmth of all these human bodies in the ballroom made the June evening air all the more stifling. As the thumping in her ears grew louder, Kat pasted a smile on her face and tried to focus, reminding herself to keep her chin up, her shoulders back.
Seeming to sense her distress, Laurie placed a comforting hand over hers where it rested on his arm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She forced herself to breathe evenly. This was supposed to be a moment of triumph, of celebration. She looked into Laurie’s smiling countenance and the robust warmth and love she saw in his expression buoyed her, quieting her nerves. She drew a deep breath, her smile becoming genuine, and focused on her father’s words.
“This evening I announce the betrothal of my daughter, Lady Katherine Granville, to Viscount Lawrence Sinclair of Wiltshire.” Footmen appeared with champagne flutes on trays. Laurie took two, handing one to Kat. There were murmurs of approval and sounds of clinking crystal as the guests received their champagne. Her father raised his glass. “To Sinclair and his future viscountess.”
The guests raised their flutes, and calls of “here, here” and “well done” rang out. Kat smiled and raised her champagne to her lips. Looking over the crowd, her eye caught on a tall guest with dark amber hair standing near the back wall. Rivulets of awareness trickled through her.
She sipped the champagne, the bubbles fizzing in her mouth, the warmth sliding down her throat and heating her skin all over. She tilted her head to get a better glimpse of the man, but the guests crowding in front of him impeded her view. He moved toward the door. When he reached it, his back to her, the man stood quite alone. He was impossibly lean, his movements both precise and concise, as though he brooked no nonsense. When he paused at the door, a shiver tingled through Kat despite the warm June heat.
Then he turned around and their gazes met. And locked.
/>
She recognized him at once, even at a distance—the sharp cut of his cheeks and the dark intensity of his eyes. He’d shorn his hair short, very close to his head and tremendously out of fashion. The amber curls were gone. He appeared much changed and yet achingly familiar.
Edward.
Her Edward.
The floor beneath her slippers wobbled, and somewhere a glass shattered. She realized she’d dropped her champagne. The crowd murmured and the heat in the room pressed in on her slick skin as she reeled into darkness, falling deeper and faster until strong arms surrounded her. Someone spoke to her, but she heard echoes that made no sense.
Blackness crept in and she gladly went to it.
Chapter Two
“Are you certain you’re well enough for a ride through the park?” A crease appeared between Laurie’s brows. “You have not been yourself since the ball.”
Avoiding his gaze, Kat forced a light tone. “Pish posh, it was just a touch of ague.” She directed her horse onto Rotten Row, maneuvering through the crowd of riders on the trail.
Laurie’s gelding inched up alongside her mare. He peered over at her. “But you fainted. That is not a sign of ague.”
“You make me swoon, my lord.” She tossed her head and flashed a flirtatious smile. “Most gentlemen would be delighted to have that effect on their lady.”
Laurie’s eyes twinkled and he laughed aloud, allowing the compliment to distract him, just as she intended. Desperate for an excuse to cut off the conversation, she shook the ribbons, commanding her mare into a trot. She fell into the rhythm of the horse’s movements, the passing riders a blur of color.
It had been three days since she’d seen him. Edward. Agonizing hours full of uncertainty and turmoil that had left her physically ill. She’d taken to bed with a pounding headache and no appetite. When she tried to force food down, it tasted like foolscap and her stomach rebelled, threatening to expel the meal.
Her reaction mortified her. How could Edward still have this kind of effect on her? She’d reacted as though he’d abandoned her just yesterday instead of six endless years ago. She hadn’t seen him since that glimpse at her betrothal ball. After her embarrassing collapse, Kat had insisted upon returning to the party. Shaken and out of sorts, she’d nonetheless been determined not to let Edward ruin her big night. Yet she couldn’t help scanning the crowd for his face, desperate to look into those dark emerald eyes once more. Even now, she didn’t dare ask anyone about him, fearing the questions her inquiry might raise in Laurie’s mind. But what had Edward been doing there? Perhaps he’d come for her at last.
“Why, if it isn’t Lady Incomparable.” The familiar voice pulled Kat from her thoughts. She tugged on the ribbons, slowing and turning to see Tobias Hobart, Bea’s brother, approaching. Toby’s brown eyes moved to Laurie who had come to a stop next to Kat. “Sin, good to see you as always. I’m glad to have spotted you.”
Laurie eyed Toby’s attire with raised eyebrows. “With those breeches, we wouldn’t have been able to miss you, Hobart.”
Toby laughed, sweeping his top hat off while affecting a bow from atop his mount. A navy linen riding coat adorned with pewter buttons was Toby’s only concession to the latest style of subdued colors for gentlemen. Beneath it, Kat’s cousin wore a yellow-and-red striped waistcoat with yellow breeches tucked into gleaming black Hessians. A slight man, Toby had brushed his thinning reddish brown hair upwards to create an illusion of height.
He inclined his head, flashing a grin. “Lady Katherine, I do declare my cousin becomes more lovely each time my eyes behold her.”
Delighted to see him, Kat smiled, taking in the pallor of his skin, so white that it looked almost transparent in the sun. Still, he seemed to be having a good day. She saw no evidence of the dark episodes his sister referred to. “Flatterer. I must take you to task for failing to attend my betrothal ball.”
Toby’s eyes widened. “But I did attend. A little tardy perhaps, but still in plenty of time to behold your rather dramatic swoon.” He winked at Kat. “Very well done, my dear. It was in all of the broadsheets.”
Her gut panged, but she forced a playful tone. “Never let it be said that I don’t have a flair for the dramatic. I’m sorry I did not see you there.”
“I attended with Lord Randolph.” He looked past her. “Here he is now.”
Kat’s scalp tingled. She heard the snort of his stallion before she saw the man who rode him. The animal was huge and powerful, with substantial muscles and a shiny coat so black it glistened almost blue in the sun. The rider’s black-clad thighs flexed as they hugged the animal. A trill of anticipation shooting down her spine, her perusal wandered further upward until she found herself gazing into Edward Stanhope’s dark emerald eyes.
Their gazes caught, held, and the air left her lungs. Cool, distant eyes looked back into hers, containing nothing of the humanity and warmth that had once radiated from them. His eyes were full of vibrant green color, but empty of any spark. A burst of cold air gushed through her and she shivered.
“Ah, here is Rand now.” Toby’s words sounded very far away even though he was right beside to her. “Edward Stanhope, Earl of Randolph, may I present my cousin, the lovely Lady Katherine? And her betrothed, Viscount Lawrence Sinclair.”
No trace of recognition penetrated Edward’s impartial expression. “My lady.” His eyes slid to Laurie. “Sinclair.”
Laurie tipped his hat. “Hobart here speaks very highly of you,” he said amiably. “Please call me Sin. All of my friends do.”
A hollowed gauntness had replaced Edward’s once-full face, his skin stretched taut across high cheekbones. “And I am Rand to my friends.” He spoke in the sparse, gravelly voice of someone whose journey to this moment had been an arduous one. Rand. A name free of all embellishment fit this new version of Edward.
Laurie smiled. “May I offer my congratulations, Rand, on your newly bestowed title. Toby says you were his commanding officer.”
“Indeed.” Edward’s frosty gaze was polite to the point of indifference. “Hobart served most honorably.”
Toby waved away the compliment. “Yes, one does as one must, but conflict is so unpleasant.” He wrinkled his nose. “Rand here is a genius in the art of war. An unparalleled strategist, in Wellie’s words.”
Interest sparked in Laurie’s eyes. “You were with Wellington, then?” he asked Edward.
“Indeed.”
Edward had not spared Kat a glance beyond that first acknowledgement, but she could not tear her eyes away from him. This stranger bore little resemblance to the Edward she knew. He had no softness to him at all, he was all cut bone and sharp angles, taut muscle over long lean lines. He sat ramrod straight in the saddle, stiff and commanding.
Laurie leaned forward. “Were you at Waterloo?”
She barely registered Edward’s answer—something about the Pyrenees—over the thudding in her ears.
“Don’t you think so, Kat?”
She turned to find Laurie looking expectantly at her. “Don’t you think so?” he repeated.
She twisted her mouth into the dazzling smile she often lobbed at Laurie when she didn’t want him to guess her true thoughts. “Of course I do, my lord.”
Laurie’s smile broadened. “It is settled then. You and Hobart must join us for supper tomorrow evening, Randolph.”
Fleeting surprise sparked in the impassive depths of Edward’s eyes. Heat suffused Kat’s face. Had she just encouraged Laurie to invite the earl to dinner?
Not knowing how she would bear it, she turned away, urging her mare back onto the path. “That would be lovely,” she said with a flip of her head. “If it is all settled, let us not waste this glorious day, Laurie. You promised me a ride.”
She heard the smile in Laurie’s answer. “Excuse me, gentlemen. When a beauty such as Lady Kat beckons, how can I not answer? I am but a mere man.”
…
Rand’s shoulder ached like the devil.
He slid down in
the bath, hoping the heat of the water would ease the persistent pain, as two footmen appeared with more steaming water.
Burgess, his valet, took the buckets and dismissed the footmen. “This should help ease your discomfort, my lord.” He added one bucket full to the bath. The steam swirled around Rand’s face and he inhaled deeply, savoring the humid heat.
“For God’s sake, stop calling me that.”
“Pardon, my lord?” Burgess went to retrieve the second bucket.
“Stop calling me ‘my lord’. You know it grates on me.”
Burgess poured the contents of the second bucket into Rand’s bath. “Nonetheless, you are an earl now and it is my pleasure to serve you.” He placed the empty buckets by the door. “The regent bestowed the title upon you. He also gifted you with this enormous town home. It would be an insult not to use the title allotted to you by God and king, or regent, as it were.”
Rand made a disparaging sound and sank lower in the water. Burgess had faithfully followed him to hell and back. Through the battlefield, the chaos at Talavera, and then to India, back when Rand was merely the nephew of a marquess with no hope of acquiring a title. “No doubt it is your own elevation that thrills you.”
“I don’t deny it.” Burgess moved to the dressing room and returned with Rand’s evening wear for Sinclair’s dinner. “I am overjoyed to find myself in service to an earl who is a celebrated war hero. Although my wages have yet to reflect that.”
Rand barked a laugh. “Grasping sot. We both know you’ve been overly compensated for years. I could employ two of Mayfair’s finest valets for the same coin I give you.”
Burgess pressed his lips together. “If you say so, my lord.”
“I do.” Eyeing the clothes his valet laid out for him, Rand felt the beginnings of a headache twitch behind his left eye. Why the devil had he agreed to attend? “Damnation. I should send my regrets. The last thing I am in the mood for is to spend the evening with Sinclair and his ilk.”
