by Diana Quincy
“But that is your ilk now.” Burgess brushed the deep green tailcoat. “And Viscount Sinclair is top ton. They say his lady is the incomparable of the decade.”
Savage emotion clawed his insides at the mention of Kitty. “The decade? That is overdoing it, even for you, Burgess.”
“She has reigned for many years, long past when others would be considered on the shelf.”
He gritted his teeth against the turmoil of feeling that rose in his chest. Kitty the Incomparable. It wasn’t hard to believe. If anything, she’d grown even more winsome since he’d last seen her. She’d lost the coltish awkwardness of youth, developing into a true beauty with vivid sapphire eyes that were difficult to look away from. Her betrothal gown had left little to the imagination, showcasing her lithe, petite form, creamy shoulders, and the tender little globes he’d once had the pleasure of tasting. The thought of Sinclair doing the same, of having Kitty in his bed, made his head pound. His hand slammed down into the water, sloshing the liquid out of the tub.
“What was that for?”
Rand looked at his valet. “Pardon?”
“Is there a reason you are making a mess of the floor?”
“Damn your impudence, man.” He eyed the dark green tailcoat. “Is that what I’m wearing?”
Burgess stopped folding cravats and cocked an eyebrow at Rand, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. Rand didn’t give a whit about clothes. Never had. “You are interested in your clothing this evening?”
“Hardly.”
Burgess resumed his task. “I would be overjoyed if you were finally to take an interest in your attire. After all, an earl should dress with certain—” A wet washing cloth sailed through the air, landing with a slapping thud near Burgess’ feet, splashing water on his immaculately shined shoes.
“Shut up with all of this earl talk. Get out so I can take my bath in peace.”
Burgess pressed his lips together, affecting an offended expression as he quit the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Rand rubbed his shoulder and thought of the lady who would never belong to him again. He’d fully intended to come back for Kitty once he’d made something of himself, and he had been well on his way until Talavera destroyed his well-laid plans. Ironically, the battle that had made his reputation had also obliterated his chance at happiness. Now, he was barely fit to be in society, much less to be Kitty’s husband.
His desire to protect her was the reason he’d absented himself from England all of these years. If they’d been on the same continent, nothing could have stopped him from claiming her. He’d have stayed in India forever had the regent not essentially commanded his return to England by bestowing this wretched title upon him. Now the responsibilities of the earldom demanded his continued presence, not only in the House of Lords, but there were vast properties and tenants to look after.
There was no escape.
…
Kat arrived at Laurie’s Curzon street townhome a little later than the appointed time. She’d been abed all day with a pounding migraine that was no doubt brought on by the thought of seeing Edward again. She despised herself for being so weak.
Greeting her at the door, Laurie took her wrap and handed it off to the hovering footman. “Late as usual, I see. Just in time to make a grand entrance.”
She summoned a lustrous smile. “You know me so well.”
“Sometimes I wonder about that,” he said in that casual way of his. She darted him a look, but let the comment pass since she was too busy fixating on the prospect of being in close quarters with Edward. “You look marvelous as usual. That color suits you.”
“Do you approve?” She gazed down at her pale gold silk gown with delicate ruffles across her bosom and tassels of the same shade adorning the hem. “It was just delivered this afternoon.”
“I suspect all will clamor to their modistes on the morrow to imitate you.”
They entered the parlor where guests had gathered before supper. It was a small group, a dozen or so from their usual set, young Corinthians and the beauties, ladies, and heiresses they’d recently taken to wife. He guided her toward Bea, who stood with Toby and Lexie.
She felt a surge of relief to see no sign of Edward. “Has Lord Randolph sent his regrets?”
“No, in fact he asked to bring a friend.”
“A friend?”
“Elena, the Maid of Malagon,” Toby answered when they reached him. “She’s in London to receive a commendation from the prince regent for her valor during the war.”
“A recognition for valor?” Jealousy twisted in her chest at the thought of Edward escorting a lady. “For a female?”
“Not just any female,” Toby said. “Elena is most remarkable. She fought off the French and single-handedly saved her village.”
“Single-handedly?” Laurie asked. “How so?”
“The Spanish suffered heavy casualties and abandoned their posts. Elena loaded a cannon and lit the fuse herself.”
“No!” Disbelief etched Bea’s face.
“She shredded a wave of attackers just as they descended upon her.”
Kat felt lightheaded. “Goodness.”
“Hobart.” Laurie spoke in a warning tone. “I’ll remind you there are ladies present.”
Bea’s eyes lit up. “It’s quite all right, Laurie. How splendid she is! What happened after that, Toby?”
With an apologetic glance at Laurie, Toby continued. “The sight of a lone woman manning the cannons on the rooftop inspired the fleeing Spanish troops to return. They held off the French and lived to fight another day.”
“What a brave creature.” Bea’s face glowed with admiration. “She’s quite the hero.”
“I hardly think behaving like a man is heroic.” Laurie frowned. “Unspeakable things could have happened had the French captured her.”
The light in Toby’s eyes dimmed. “Unspeakable things happen all the time in war.”
The sound of the butler’s voice announcing the new arrivals interrupted their discussion. “The Earl of Randolph and Miss Elena Márquez-Navarro.”
“Goodness.” Lexie stared at the couple. “She’s an Amazon.”
The statuesque woman on Edward’s arm was stunningly tall for a female. Wearing a scarlet gown that showcased an overabundance of feminine curves, she surveyed the room with somnolent dark eyes set against a smooth café au lait complexion. Kat’s stomach curled.
“What a handsome woman. Don’t you think?” Bea nudged her arm. “Are you well? You look pale.”
“Of course, I’m supremely well.” She darted a glance at Laurie to make certain he hadn’t noticed her discomposure. She needn’t have worried. Her betrothed’s eyes were fixed on Edward’s Amazon. “Laurie,” she said, irritation edging her voice. “Perhaps we should greet them.”
The sound of her voice startled his attention away from the Maid of Malagon. “Indeed we should.” He offered her his arm.
As they stepped away, a smirk appeared on Lexie’s face. “It looks like you aren’t the only sensation here this evening, Kat.” Her voice trailed after them. “You’ll have to share some of the glory with the Spanish senorita.” Kat ignored Lexi because her attention remained fixed on the Amazon and Edward, who turned his attention to them on their approach.
“Well met, Rand,” Laurie said in greeting.
Edward’s distant gaze brushed over her before landing squarely on Laurie. “Sinclair. Lady Katherine. Allow me to make known Senorita Márquez-Navarro.”
Laurie bowed. “Ma’am, it is a pleasure to welcome you to London.”
Dark, glistening eyes fastened on Laurie. “Thank you, my lord.” A Spanish lilt coated her husky voice. “I am anxious to become more intimately acquainted with my English friends.”
From the familiar manner in which her arm rested on Edward’s, as well as the close proximity of their bodies, Kat surmised the Amazon was already very well acquainted with at least one newly invested English earl.
Elena turne
d her attention to Kat. “Your viscountess is ravishing, Lord Sinclair.” The unexpected compliment took Kat by surprise.
“Lady Katherine is my affianced bride.” Laurie brought Kat’s hand to his lips. “She cannot become my viscountess soon enough for my taste.”
“Do you live here with Lord Sinclair?” she asked Kat.
She inhaled sharply at the suggested indecency. “Most assuredly not.”
Laurie’s jaw braced. “It is not the English way.”
Edward turned to the Amazon. “Elena, shall I bring you a drink?” He was certainly on familiar terms with the senorita, addressing her by her given name.
“I think perhaps Lord Sinclair should accompany me and explain the ways of the English to a Spanish peasant such as I.”
“Of course.” Ever the gentleman, Laurie would not refuse, even though Kat detected his distaste for the task. Cloaking his curtness in polite tones, he offered his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”
As he led the Maid of Malagon away, Kat asked, “Is she truly a peasant?” It was unheard of for a peasant to grace noble homes—unless as a servant who used the back entrance.
Edward turned a sharp gaze on her. “Her family is minor gentry. However, whatever her rank, she is as valiant and brave a woman as I have ever had the honor of knowing.”
Jealously coiling deep in her belly, she turned to pluck a single flower from a nearby arrangement to hide her reaction. “She is quite handsome.”
“Yes. Elena is as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside,” he said. “My felicitations, by the way, on your recent betrothal.”
The sudden change in topic took her off guard. “Um…thank you.”
“You and Sinclair seem eminently suited.”
He thought she and Laurie suited? She trembled with outrage and hurt at his cold treatment of her, as though they were long-ago acquaintances and nothing more. “Yes, we are very well suited. I am devoted to him as I have been to no other man.”
“I am glad to hear it,” he said, his tone serious. “That is as it should be.”
It was all she could do not to upend the entire vase of flowers over his head. He acted as if there had never been anything of consequence between them. “Yes, well, if you will excuse me, I should like to go and find my betrothed. He doesn’t care to be without me for any length of time.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and marched away, her fingers clutching her skirt as she passed the ornate arrangement of flowers.
…
She looked like a goddess.
Kitty wore a pale gold gown that spun around her delicate frame, a confection of gossamer fabric that made her appear angelic. She sat playing the pianoforte with a group gathered around her, like moths drawn to an irresistible source of light. When she hit the wrong key, sending an awkward note screeching through the air, she just laughed and made a light comment, the blue in her eyes sparkling. Sinclair sat by her side, clearly besotted, his gaze rarely leaving the angel beside him.
“She’s a vision, is she not?” Toby broke into Rand’s thoughts.
“Indeed.” His shoulder throbbed. London’s damp heat infiltrated the once-shattered bones that had somehow managed to fuse haphazardly back together.
Toby took a drink from a passing footman. “They call them the golden couple, on account of their coloring.” Rand grunted some noncommittal response. They were similar in appearance, Kitty and her intended. Perfectly matched with blue eyes and hair the color of sunlight, one could mistake them for brother and sister. He reached for a drink from the footman, throwing it back in one large swallow.
Still seated at the pianoforte, Kitty turned to Sinclair with a radiant smile. The force of it left the man looking love struck as he stood to offer her his arm. She rose and took it, saying something in a laughing manner to the friends gathered around her. Rand watched the golden couple circulate, Sinclair’s hand settled possessively at Kitty’s waist.
He made an effort to keep a bland tone. “Why has she not married before now?”
Toby bottomed out his glass. “She’s had many offers. I can assure you of that.” He gestured toward Kitty. “Look at her. She enjoys her perch at the top. Perhaps she was loath to relinquish it too soon. Who could blame her?”
Watching Kitty stroll among the guests, still engrossed in laughing conversation with Sinclair, made a dark heat rise in his chest. “How did he win her?”
“He is considered quite eligible. Amiable, titled, and wealthy.” They watched as Sinclair steered Kitty in their direction. “The women flock to him.”
“It’s a love match, then?”
Toby shrugged. “So it is said. Here they come, you can ask them yourself.”
“I say, Rand,” Sinclair said as they approached, “the word is that you’re quite the accomplished musician. Would you care to take a turn at the pianoforte? I daresay we’d all enjoy hearing you.”
Rand stiffened. “I fear you’ve been misinformed. I do not play.” Ignoring Kitty’s stunned expression, he set his empty glass on a nearby surface. “If you will excuse me.”
He turned away, eager to escape her and Sinclair, the growing crowd, and old memories that were best left unexhumed.
…
Kat stole out onto the terrace, and forced the summer air in and out of her lungs. Why had he come? She’d felt his dark eyes tracking her all evening and she’d obliged him with the performance of her life—laughing gaily with her friends, engrossing herself in conversation with Laurie, pretending Edward didn’t exist. Acting as though her insides weren’t being ripped apart.
Blast him for showing up and ruining everything, for destroying what little happiness she’d pieced together for herself after his abandonment. And now he was back and it certainly wasn’t for the purpose of claiming her. He acted as if he barely remembered her.
“Are you escaping the crowd as well?” She recognized the voice right away. It was the same, yet distinctly different— the roughened voice of the stranger who’d returned, not the boy who’d left her. He stood a few feet away from her, lean hips resting against the balustrade, his arms and legs crossed.
“Why did you lie in there? Why did you tell Laurie you don’t play the pianoforte?” No one played more beautifully—more soulfully—than Edward. It was an integral part of who he was as a man.
“It was no lie. I haven’t played in years.”
“How can that be?” She sucked in a shocked breath. She couldn’t imagine him not playing. Edward without his music was unfathomable. “Music is part of your soul.”
“I suppose I left that part of my soul on the battlefield.” The torchlight danced across the stony set of his features. His nose had changed. No longer well molded and straight, it now had a subtle bend to it, which contributed to his new, harsher appearance.
“What happened to your nose?”
Surprise flitted across his dark eyes. He ran a long finger over the bridge of his nose. “It met with the back end of a bayonet.”
Dear God. Someone had broken his nose. “Did it hurt?”
“It was the least of my problems. I hardly noted it at the time.”
“Why not?” Even as she asked, Kat wondered how they could be having this conversation. As though six weeks had passed since they’d last met, rather than six years.
“I was preoccupied with trying to stay alive.”
Alarm filtered through her. “You were badly injured?”
Shadows dropped along the length of his face, making it hard for Kat to see his reaction. “I was shot in the shoulder and the leg, although I didn’t know it at the time.”
Regret clawed her insides. He’d been hurt, perhaps very badly, and she hadn’t known. Over the years, desperate for news of him, she’d secretly followed Edward’s war exploits as closely as possible. But with her limited resources, gleaning what little she could from newspapers and general chatter at parties, she’d never heard he’d suffered an injury. Had she been dancing in a ballroom while he’d lain wounde
d and alone somewhere on a faraway battlefield?
Tears filled her eyes. His stern brows drew together and he pushed away from the balustrade to come and stand before her. He smelled of shaving soap and brandy. Kat raked his face, hungrily taking in all of the details. He was only eight-and-twenty, but looked much older. Deep lines creased his forehead and his hairline was higher than it had been six years ago. Dark shadows emphasized the hollows in his cheeks. “What is this, Kitty?”
Kitty. No one else had ever called her that. A single tear ran down her cheek. He used a callused thumb to sweep it away in a gentle motion, leaving a trail of delicious agony in its wake. “You left me. I thought you’d never come back.”
“You told me not to.” His finger traced the edge of her face.
“You never wrote.”
“As an unrelated male, I could hardly correspond with an unwed gentlewoman.”
“You could have found a way.” She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “If you had cared enough.”
“Perhaps I could have,” he agreed. “But it was for the better that I did not.”
Her chest ached. “For the better? How can you say that?”
“I’m told Sinclair is the best of men. You’ve done very well for yourself.”
“That’s it?” Anger overtook the yawning pain in her chest. “After all these years, that’s all you have to say?”
“There is nothing else left to remark upon. I’m happy for you, Kitty.” The words were quiet. “Truly I am.”
“There you are, Kat!” Lexie stood just outside the open terrace doors, her thin frame silhouetted by the glittering ballroom backdrop. “I see I am not the only person in need of some air.” Her gaze moved to Edward. “Oh, you are not alone.” She gave a coquettish tilt of her head. “My lord, I did not see you there. Won’t you introduce us, Kat?”
Kat cleared her throat. “Allow me to make known Miss Alexis Campbell. Lexie, this is Ed…uh…the Earl of Randolph.”
Edward bowed. “Miss Campbell, a pleasure.”
Lexie curtseyed prettily. “My lord, what an honor it is to meet a great war hero.” She cut a gaze to Kat and then back again to Edward. “I wasn’t aware that you two knew each other.”
