“I beg your pardon, my boy?”
Upstairs, Eliza was in an agony. She said again, “Miss Katharine, his lordship and Lady Bellingham are awaiting you. Really, you must go downstairs.”
“Yes, Eliza, I am aware of that fact. Pray inform his lordship and Lady Bellingham that I will be down directly. Perhaps not quite directly, but it will do.”
“Yes, Miss, but do make it happen somewhat directly this time, all right?” Eliza sped toward the door, thought better of it, and turned. “Perhaps I can help?”
Kate cut her off. “No, no, I have just to fetch my gloves and cloak.”
She didn’t move from her dressing table until Eliza had closed the door behind her. Kate stared for a moment into the mirror at her pale, set face. She didn’t look at all like herself, with her hair fashionably dressed, and the blue-velvet gown plunging low over her bosom and revealing, she thought, far too much white flesh, plump white flesh that was surely too much to show.
She knew she was purposely dallying, knew it was a childish thing to do, but she wasn’t able to think of a more comprehensive revenge at the moment. She’d decided only a short time before that she would suffer the earl’s presence, for she appeared to have no other choice in the matter, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing overt distress or anger. She would face him with the coldest of dislike. She would be indifferent to him. She would ignore him. That would show him what she thought of him, and keeping him waiting was a very good beginning. She just wasn’t certain how to achieve the coldest of dislike, but it would doubtless come to her soon enough.
Damn him, he’d turned from being her friend to being now more in the nature of an enemy, and she would see him in hell at the devil’s right hand before she would give in to him.
She picked up her gloves and cloak and slowly made her way down the curving staircase. Smithers, the Bellingham butler, stood awaiting her at the door of the drawing room. Kate forced herself to halt a moment, schooled her face into an impassive expression, and waited for her heart to stop banging against her ribs.
Kate finally gave Smithers leave to open the door, and he observed that her nose rose a good three inches as she sailed past him into the drawing room.
It was with a distinct effort that Kate maintained her imperious pose, for the earl stood quite at his ease, leaning negligently against the mantelpiece. She wanted to hit him when she realized that he was amused by her.
She remarked, without wishing to, that he looked his usual elegant self, his black-satin evening clothes fitted to perfection. Damn his eyes, she thought, laughing at her even though he wasn’t doing so out loud.
Julien didn’t immediately move toward her but watched her closely as she swept into the room, the train of her velvet gown trailing behind her. How very beautiful she looked, not that he was surprised. The gown fitted her very nicely, but he wished her lovely breasts weren’t so very visible to every gentleman’s greedy eyes. Beautiful breasts, white, full, delicious. His fingers curled and his palms grew warm. He wanted very much to pull that gown to her waist and touch her and taste her. Her thick auburn hair was piled artfully on top of her head, and two long tresses lay gracefully over her bare shoulder.
“Oh, there you are, my love, at last, at very long last.” Lady Bellingham’s voice was a mixture of relief and reproach.
Kate swept what she hoped was a cold curtsy to the earl, at least she hoped it was cold and quite indifferent, then proceeded to pay him no further notice. She turned to Lady Bellingham and gave her a warm smile.
“I do hope, ma’am, that I’m not too late. Eliza had some difficulty with the buttons on my gown.” Surely that was a nice touch, she thought, standing there in the middle of the room, hoping she presented a very stiff, very proud figure.
Lady Bellingham wished she had another glass of sherry. Julien hadn’t poured her enough, drat him.
Julien, however, seemed to think nothing was amiss and moved gracefully toward Kate.
“Good evening, Mistress Katharine. It is indeed a pleasure to see you again. I hope that you had a pleasant journey to London and have been enjoying the sights.” He took her hand and brushed his lips lightly over her fingers.
14
A dull flush spread over her face. She snatched her hand away. “Indeed.”
“I trust your buttons are now adequately arranged?”
“I said I was sorry that I was a trifle late.”
“I don’t recall asking you for an apology. In fact, I quite understand.”
She wanted very much to cosh him on the head with a poker that was negligently set by the fireplace. He looked very calm, very much in control. She felt stupid and vulnerable and she wanted to scream at him, yes, perhaps even shoot him. “Do we continue this nonsense, my lord, or do we leave to see the play you have so graciously chosen?”
He leaned close to her and said softly, “Cold Kate. Indifferent Kate. Surely there must be something written somewhere about such a Kate.”
Julien turned before she could answer and said to Lady Bellingham, “If you’ve finished your sherry, ma’am, perhaps we should be leaving. I’m certain,” he added, glancing at Kate, “that you wouldn’t want to miss the first act of Macbeth.”
Julien helped Lady Bellingham to her feet and arranged the silk paisley shawl around her plump shoulders.
Lady Bellingham watched Kate turn on her heel and sail from the room, her chin so high she’d trip if she chanced to run into anything. She turned a troubled countenance to Julien. “Oh, dear. Perhaps I should speak to her, Julien. She’s being quite provoking, you know.”
“Oh, no, she’s behaving admirably, I assure you. She’s young, she’s in a situation she can’t control, and she’s just learning to fence verbally. Already she does it quite well. On no account, ma’am, I beg of you, say anything to her.” He took her arm and steered her after Katharine.
As they walked through the front door, Julien leaned down and said, “Believe me, Lady Bella, I have the situation well in control, and that, naturally, is what irks her to wishing she could strangle me and hurl my body into the Thames.”
She saw the calm look of self-assurance on his face, and thought that perhaps he did. She felt a momentary twinge of concern over Katharine. Although she was an ambitious mama, well versed in the art of matchmaking, she would never have dreamed of pushing her offspring into marriages that were distasteful to them. She shook her head in wonder. How any breathing cogent female wouldn’t wish to marry the earl of March was more than she could fathom.
As Julien helped her into the carriage, she cast an uncertain glance at Kate, who was sitting ramrod-stiff, gazing out of the carriage window. She would have given up her medicinal dosage of sherry for a week to know what was going on in the girl’s head.
Julien swung himself into the carriage and seated himself opposite Kate and Lady Bellingham. He tapped his cane on the roof of the carriage, and Wilbury whipped up the horses.
“So we are to see Macbeth,” Lady Bellingham said brightly.
“Yes, ma’am. I do hope you approve my choice.”
She wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about seeing a Shakespearean play, for she found the dramatic lines, delivered with wild gesticulations, beyond her comprehension and thus rather boring. Her thoughts leaped ahead to the sumptuous supper they would enjoy after the play. Even Katharine at her most glacial wouldn’t spoil that part of her evening.
Though London was rather thin of company this time of year, many of the ton having followed the Regent to Brighton for the summer, there was still a sizable crowd to attend Kemble’s performance. Lady Bellingham was able to wave to several acquaintances as they took their seats in the elegant box that Julien reserved each season.
Kate wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but she found herself seated between Lady Bellingham and the earl. She turned her shoulder toward him, fastening her eyes on the stage. Despite her best efforts, however, she quickly became quite involved with Kemble.
When the curtain fell after the first act, Kate was dismayed to see that Lady Bellingham was gently dozing in her chair. She was uncomfortably aware of how close the earl was sitting to her. She tried to draw away, for his leg was but an inch from hers, but Lady Bellingham’s ample figure prohibited it. She felt his eyes upon her, and she paled, hating herself even as she felt herself go white. He was big, too big, and she knew that he’d set himself upon a course and would do his best to bring her to heel.
“Are you enjoying the play, my dear?” he asked, leaning close to her.
She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek and was uneasily aware of something insidiously warm deep inside her. Her heart was pounding loudly; surely he must hear it. Without turning to him, she said, low and vicious, “It’s quite tolerable, if only I could enjoy it fully. That is, if you were absent.”
“Only tolerable? You surprise me, for I thought you quite animated over Kemble’s performance, despite my presence. Know too, my dear, that you couldn’t attend the theatre without a gentleman at your side. Since I am the devil you know, don’t you prefer me?”
“A devil is a devil. I wish all of you in hell, where you belong, certainly not here with me.”
“I really do wish you would face me. Although you have a lovely back, I would much prefer conversing to your face.”
She didn’t move.
He said, his voice ruminative, “I hadn’t thought you a coward. It’s a disappointment to have so misjudged your character.”
She turned quickly in her seat, her mouth open, doubtless to shoot him verbally. He said quickly, “That’s much better. You really must cultivate that look of innocent outrage, it makes your green eyes sparkle quite attractively, you know. Please don’t turn away again, for I’ll think you’re afraid of me.”
“Afraid of you? I’d just as soon split your gullet, my lord. Afraid, ha! Your perfidy passes all bounds. If I had you alone I would surely make you sorry for what you’ve done to me.”
“Done to you? Surely I’ve done naught but very acceptable things for you. You’re out of your father’s house and with Lady Bellingham, surely a gracious hostess, though I imagine that you torment her quite enthusiastically when the poor lady happens to mention me.”
She gave him a long, bitter look. “I wish you would go away, my lord. I told you very nicely that I wouldn’t marry you. I meant it. I wasn’t being coy. Please, just leave me alone.”
“That’s much better, though you’re still not up to your former repartee. I feared that your wit had grown dull during my absence. Poor Bleddoes, he had not the wherewithal to keep pace with you. Rest assured, my dear, that I will keep you properly amused, when it pleases me.”
She’d never met his like in her life. He was so different from the kind gentleman, nay, the kind friend, at St. Clair. Here he was the ruler; here he commanded, he ordered, and everyone obeyed without a blink. She couldn’t begin to understand him, nor could she seem to hit upon a strategy to reduce him to rubble. He was deliberately provoking her, taunting her, letting her know quite clearly that he was the one in control. Well, she couldn’t let him succeed. She shrugged her shoulders as if in only slight irritation and turned to look at the elegant audience. She was immediately diverted.
“I do wish you would tell me who that oddly dressed man is who is waving at us. How very curious he is wearing a yellow-and-green-striped waistcoat.”
“That’s Mr. Fresham. He’s always fancied himself Brummell’s greatest rival. You must see him walk, his heels are so high one fears to see him to topple over at any moment. One fears or waits with gleeful anticipation, myself included.”
“How altogether ridiculous. Men should appear as men, and not as painted peacocks. Someone really should take him in hand.”
“Shall I take that for a compliment?” he said, humor and a good deal of satisfaction in his voice as he returned Mr. Fresham’s wave.
She raised her chin, managing to keep her mouth shut.
“You must take care, else you won’t see the view of the world that we ordinary mortals have. Ah, my manners. Would you care for refreshment? Perhaps some champagne?”
“No.”
“A lady who is not demanding. What a nice change. Now, what was I going to say? Oh, yes, I believe you told Lady Bellingham you wanted to enter the hallowed doors of Almack’s. I have secured vouchers, and will escort you, and, of course, Lady Bella, tomorrow evening.”
She trembled with indignation. She’d needed to be in London less than a week to know that his escort to Almack’s would be tantamount to announcing their betrothal. Indeed, an announcement in the Gazette would be expected to follow but a few days after such an appearance.
She turned on him, all thoughts of pleasant indifference gone. “How dare you. I wouldn’t dream of going to Almack’s with you. Never, do you hear me? Never. You can’t force me to go.”
“I beg your pardon?” he asked, the picture of bewildered innocence, but he found he was looking at her breasts, pushed up by the tight banding beneath, very white and full breasts, beautiful breasts. His hands clenched. Dear God, he wanted her. He swallowed and shifted his position in his chair. He wanted her too damned much.
She was furious, he knew that, and he found it amusing, at least he did when he didn’t want to rip her clothes off her and make love to her right here in his theatre box, perhaps against the curtained wall. Ah, and those beautiful breasts of hers were heaving with fury.
She was hissing now, not wanting to wake up Lady Bellingham. “My lord, I don’t recall ever having evinced a desire to attend the dancing at Almack’s. And you know quite well what your escort would imply, indeed promise, to all present.”
It seemed to Kate at that moment that flickering lights shaped like tiny devils danced in his gray eyes. Her hands fisted. She raised her right hand, only to feel his fingers close about her wrist and pull her hand back down on her thigh. He held it there. She felt the heat of him, and that made her feel other things too, strange things that were frightening yet oddly tantalizing, but just for an instant. She tried again to free her fist from his grip.
He leaned close to her ear. “Now, my dear Kate, it wouldn’t be seemly for a lady to strike a gentleman in so public a place. I might have to exact retribution if you did. Besides, you don’t wish to embarrass your kind hostess.”
“I’m not your dear Kate, damn you.”
“Such language. However, I will accustom myself to it. Perhaps if you’re with me enough, we’ll improve upon your rather mild curses. And, dear Kate, you will soon be whatever I want you to be, very soon now.”
She felt the strength of purpose behind his words. She was very afraid.
She bit her lower lip and turned away from him. With an effort she forced herself to say in a calmer voice, “Why won’t you leave me alone? What is it you want of me?” A stupid question, she thought, hating herself, and quickly added, “I’ve told you I have no wish to wed anyone, not just you. I don’t ever wish to wed. Please, my lord, believe me and leave me in peace.”
He answered her in a low voice, without hesitation, “I care for you, Kate. If I really believed that you didn’t care for me, I would withdraw, though unwillingly, for it would mean a continued life of unhappiness for you with your father. But I can’t and I won’t believe you’re indifferent to me. I’ve watched you when you weren’t aware of it. Your eyes give you away, that and your response to my kiss. You quite enjoyed my touching you, caressing you.”
“I don’t wish to wed you, Julien, no matter the assumptions you have dared to make about my feelings.”
“But you will wed me.” His voice was very quiet, very firm.
“Your choice is a foolish one, Julien. You lie to yourself. It is only because I rejected you that you now want me. It is only your wounded man’s pride. Stop looking at me like that. How can you want a wife who doesn’t want you?”
He pulled her hand unwillingly from her lap and held it in an iron grip. “You must wed me, if
for naught else than to escape the cruelty of your father.”
She looked down at his long fingers closed tightly around her wrist. A man’s hands, strong and hard. A man’s hands, which could easily wield a whip. She heard her own voice as if from a great distance, “I don’t wish to marry any man, Julien.”
“That is unfortunate and, I think, untrue. But you now have no choice in the matter.”
“You can’t bend me to your will, Julien. You have evidence that my father has tried.”
“My God, do you think I would ever hurt you?”
“You’ve humiliated me, Julien. That is worse than the physical pain of my father’s cane.”
His grip loosened on her wrist. She quickly pressed her advantage. “You must beware, my lord, that someone doesn’t place a higher bid with my father. Then your investment in this charade of yours would all be for naught.”
He wanted at that moment not to kiss her and fondle her but to shake her until her teeth rattled. She’d made him lose his control, and since he realized that he had lost it, he didn’t put a guard on his tongue. “Damn you, don’t be a fool, Katharine Brandon. I’ve borne with your bloody antics quite long enough. If you push me further, I’ll forcibly drag you out of here, perhaps to my yacht in Southampton. After several days in my company, my dear, you’ll be quite willing to accept me as your husband.”
“Since you’re a licentious rake, I suppose that would be your style. Well, I won’t let you do such a thing, so you can just forget your threats. They won’t work with me.”
Julien took a firm grip on himself. She was good, she’d gotten him to lose every shred of his control. She wouldn’t ever bore him, that was certain. He had failed to intimidate her. It was both irritating and exhilarating.
She took his silence for defeat. At last she’d bested him. Unaccountably, she found herself swallowing convulsively, tears very near the surface. Her victory seemed a hollow one, which was surely strange.
“Good evening, Julien, Miss Brandon. I hope you’re enjoying the play. And you, Miss Brandon, I trust you’re enjoying London?”
The Rebel Bride Page 13
