by Jenna Jaxon
“I suppose so, my lady.” Kat smiled in sympathy at her hostess. “I have ridden all my life and enjoy nothing more than a fast gallop across the countryside.” She probably would have enjoyed having this woman as her friend. They were of an age, and Lady Braeton seemed delightfully no nonsense and to the point. “I too am grieved that our acquaintance must be of such a short duration.”
“But Manning will come to us, won’t you, old chap?” Lord Braeton nodded to Jack. “You’ll fit in splendidly with the rest of our set. Great judge of horseflesh, my dear. He’s the talk of the club. In fact, Manning, there’s a man here who wants to meet you. Said a friend of yours at the club advised him to seek your opinion next time he was in the market for horses. The Marquess of Dalbury. He is just over there.” Lord Braeton turned to the French doors, then frowned. “Well, he must have slipped out. Said he was on the way home. Unusual for Dalbury to ask anyone’s opinion about horses, but then your reputation’s rampant nowadays, Manning.”
Lady Braeton steered Kat toward several young swains with the purpose of making introductions. Kat was flattered at the attention, as she had been all night. First her brother had insisted they go to Lady Grangerly’s crush, then Lady Harcourt’s rout, and now the Braeton’s ball. Everywhere she was introduced, complimented, made to feel a welcome part of ton society. She accepted a glass of champagne from one of the young men she’d just met. If only March fifteenth had been a dream, life would be very sweet right now.
Jack was still talking to Lord Braeton, but another young man, taller than Jack and rather lean under his excellently cut green velvet coat, had joined the two men. Kat turned her head away and appraised him from the corner of her eye. Dark blond hair, or maybe golden brown. And a well-muscled leg. He must be part of this horsey set Jack had told her about. A fine figure of a man. Why was she now taking notice of men when she was bound for one three thousand miles away? She smiled at the notion.
Jack motioned her to return to him and she handed her glass to a passing servant. As she neared the group, the young man in green glanced up and stopped, seemed arrested at the sight of her. His eyes widened. Had they already met? His face seemed familiar. Something about the chin, perhaps?
She was almost upon the group when the young man finished turning toward her. He stared at her with eyes so dark brown they were almost black. Three thin, purplish scars marred his left cheek.
The floor of the ballroom buckled beneath Katarina’s feet and Lord Braeton’s hand shot out to steady her. The music stopped and her tortured breathing sounded harsh in her ears. She supposed her face paled, for her hands grew numb with cold and she swallowed convulsively several times, trying with all her hard-earned discipline not to vomit before the assembly. She clasped her hands to stop them from shaking.
Jack looked inquisitively at her but said only, “Lady Katarina Fitzwilliam, I wish to make known to you the Marquess of Dalbury.”
Chapter 8
“Lady Katarina,” the marquess said, taking her limp, cold hand. “I have been looking forward to this moment ever since I heard you were in London.”
That voice sent shivers down her spine. She remembered well the arrogance in it when he’d declared himself her master. Soft and silky now, with his mouth poised over her hand, the words sent searing heat that penetrated her long kidskin gloves. Only sheer determination kept her from snatching it out of his grasp, and fear at what might be said if she acted in any way as though she had met this man before. No one must know.
She made herself look at his face, into the dark brown eyes that gleamed with…apprehension? Amusement? Katarina twitched her mouth into what hopefully passed for a smile and said, “I am delighted to make your acquaintance as well, Lord Dalbury. Although I must confess that until just now I had not heard your name.” Although pleased to hear how strong her voice sounded, she feared she might choke on the lies she spouted. Kat slipped her hand from his and a measure of calm returned.
Jack was deep in his conversation with Lord Braeton, completely unconcerned about her. She tried to refrain from looking at the marquess, but he demanded her attention by addressing her again.
“I almost missed the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Lady Katarina. I left the ball just before midnight, but one of my carriage horses came up lame and I returned to ask Braeton for the loan of a replacement. Lady Luck surely smiled on me tonight.” His wide smile seemed genuine, his voice tinged with a hint of relief.
She sighed. Her last night in England and Lady Luck had to favor this fellow.
He continued on, disregarding her silence. “I understand from Lord Braeton that you and your brother only arrived from the colonies two months ago, Lady Katarina.”
She found it hard to keep her tone civil. “Yes, my lord. We came to England in early February.” As she had told him before! It helped not to look at his eyes. Instead she fastened her gaze on his cheek. He would likely carry those scars the rest of his life. She hoped it hurt his vanity every time he looked in the mirror.
He apparently saw where her gaze lay, for he ran his finger down the center mark. “Ah, I see you are curious about my wounds.” He shifted his weight slightly, drawing her a little away from the others.
“Is it a war wound, my lord?” she asked, feeling the return of her confidence.
“It is a badge of honor I wear, given to me by a worthy opponent who I underestimated in many ways. I now regret the chance encounter, Lady Katarina.” He lowered his voice. “She did not deserve the treatment she had at my hands. I make my most sincere apology for doubting her words to me.”
Kat stiffened at this offering. How could he stand there and try to apologize so cavalierly in a crowded ballroom? “Whoever she is, then, Lord Dalbury,” she said sweetly, “I hope your opponent is more forgiving than I would be.” She gestured toward his face. “An offense that merited such a wound could never be forgiven by a few words uttered at a social gathering.”
“Could it be forgiven at another time and place?” His hope-filled words said he all but leaped on the possibility. “With a proper act of contrition, of course?”
“That is hardly likely, Lord Dalbury. But then,” Kat looked him in the eyes coldly, “I do not know the offense of which you speak. How could I, having just met you?”
Her emphasis must have made him realize his surroundings, for he glanced around as though he expected them to be overheard. No one was close enough to mark their conversation, but before he could continue, she moved to return to her brother. The marquess shot a hand out and gripped her elbow.
At the pressure of his fingers she whipped around, free hand raised to strike him. Lightning fast, he caught and lowered it before anyone could witness her reaction. “Please, Lady Katarina. Truly, I mean you no harm.”
The musicians chose that moment to tune up for the next set. “Will you dance the next with me?”
Despite his pleading look, she chuckled and shook her head. “Lord Dalbury, there is nothing you could say that would compel me to dance with you.” She pulled her hand free just as Jack presented himself to her.
“Well, Kat. Will you do me the honor of this dance?”
“I am sorry, Lord Manning,” Dalbury interrupted, before she could even open her mouth. “But I am afraid I have just engaged your charming sister as my partner for this set.” Dalbury smiled winningly at Jack.
She narrowed her eyes at the odious man. “Yes, Lord Dalbury just asked me to partner him, Jack, but–”
“No, Kat.” Jack beamed at both of them. “Go enjoy yourself. I will have you for the following one. We will have our last dance together, don’t worry. But you had better hurry now, the set is forming.”
There was nothing she could do but fume as Dalbury led her to the ballroom floor. If she protested too much, Jack might suspect something. She would have to endure the man’s presence for a bit longer. Then it would be over.
They took their places and she tried to relax into the music, grateful it was a minuet and n
ot an allemande. The steps of this dance did not require her to approach the man at her side too closely. She plastered a smile on her face as they began the intricate bow before the first figure. Kat performed a perfect curtsey while Dalbury bowed stiffly from the waist as form demanded.
“You are well schooled in the dance, Lady Katarina,” Lord Dalbury remarked as the first figure began.
Her reply had to wait until they approached each other again to join hands. “Do you think Virginia so boorish that a lady of good family would not have been given lessons in the social graces, my lord?” Her smile was smooth, though her tone was barbed.
“Of course not, my lady. I merely meant to compliment you on your training. You have been obviously well taught in Virginia.”
“And in more than social graces, I warn you again,” Kat said as they turned together and began a promenade. “My brother taught me to use both sword and pistol, which you would have learned to your misfortune had I been armed the last time we met.”
“I believe you, my lady.” His mouth puckered in a rueful expression. “I bear the scars of your prowess without a weapon other than your hand. I shudder to think of your ability with a pistol. Have you trained long?”
To hear him matter-of-factly accept that she had been taught to fight like a man was disconcerting. She usually kept that information secret; one woman to whom she had confided it had swooned. “Since I was ten. I was always with Jack as he practiced and became impatient with having to sit by and let him have all the fun. So I finally demanded that my father teach me. He passed that responsibility on to my brother, who loved to drill me on loading and shooting until my hands ached and my ears were ringing.” Kat smiled at the memory, then stopped in the middle of a figure. She had actually spoken to the man with an air of camaraderie, rather than the dislike that once again welled up inside her.
The pressure of his hand compelled her into the most complicated steps of the minuet and she forced herself to concentrate solely on the dance. The music ended at last, allowing her to sink thankfully into a final curtsey. As she rose, he took her hand to assist her. This time she snatched it away. Enough was enough.
“I hope this has satisfied your curiosity, Lord Dalbury,” she whispered, so vehemently his name came out as a hiss. “As you can see, I managed to survive my ordeal, no thanks to you. I now ask, if you have any honor at all, to allow me to return to my brother and never set eyes on you again.” She started across the dance floor, determined to shake her annoying partner.
Dalbury followed so close beside her, she noted the sudden gleam in his eye. “I will release you to your brother, Lady Katarina. However, if this is to be our final meeting I insist our time together be prolonged a little at least.” His hand settled on her arm and she stopped to glare at him.
“There are things we must speak of in private.” He grasped her elbow in a steely grip and compelled her toward the French doors. “A breath of cooler air might do us both good, don’t you agree, Lady Katarina?” He raised his voice, which had turned lighthearted, and she saw he spoke for the benefit of others in the ballroom watching their precipitous flight from the dance floor. With ill grace, she nodded and allowed his escort onto the veranda overlooking a formal garden.
Once outside the brightly lit room, she jerked her elbow free and strode to the balustrade for a moment, as the other guests similarly occupied with fresh air returned to the ballroom.
“Will you walk in the gardens with me?” he asked, nodding to an acquaintance nonchalantly.
Kat almost chuckled. “You believe that I would accompany you into the bushes, Lord Dalbury? I see your opinion of me has scarcely changed since last we met.”
This barb must have scored a hit with him, for his face went rigid and thunderous frown lines appeared. He swiveled his head left and right, searching the veranda, then stepped closer to her. The power of his presence caused her stomach to drop. “My lady! Do you want our conversation overheard?” The urgency in his low tone caused her to glance around, now uncomfortably aware of the danger he seemed to sense. “There are people who do nothing but watch and wait for scandal to make itself known at such society gatherings. Please come!”
He pulled her down the short flight of stairs onto a graveled path. Apparently he knew what he was talking about, for when she glanced back at the veranda, a figure emerged from the shadows behind them. She shuddered and hurried to keep up with his long strides.
They continued down the pathway, slowing to a sedate pace, then stopped in an open space devoted to a fountain of cherubs spouting a fine spray of water. The sound would effectively mask their conversation, while anyone approaching them would be easily seen.
Kat pulled her hand free. “I see you are well acquainted with such assignations, Lord Dalbury. Your tally of skills in seduction and ravishment must be mighty indeed.” If no one could hear her, then by God’s teeth she would tell him in no uncertain terms what she thought of him.
“Lady Katarina, you have every right to hate and despise me.”
Taken aback by his unexpected admission, she tried to speak but could only stand with her mouth opening and closing like a fish on dry land. Indeed, she felt like she was gasping for air. “You admit you were wrong in what you did to me? In not believing me and in trying to seduce me?” Furious to find herself blushing, she turned aside.
“Yes, my lady,” he said gently. “I was wrong to doubt your story, even as farfetched as it sounded. I had only just returned from almost a year in Italy and had not heard of your uncle’s death and the circumstances whereby you and your brother came to London. And of course, you were on the auction block in a notorious brothel in a very provocatively transparent gown.”
“It was not transparent.” She bristled in defense of her choice of garment. “Translucent, perhaps, but not transparent! It was a costume I bought to attend a ton masquerade ball and no one in the shop apparently thought it out of place.”
“You were going to Lady Beaufort’s masquerade that night?”
“I told you at the time that was where I was going,” she replied. He had not listened to her at all that night!
“Lady Beaufort is my aunt. I was supposed to attend that ball as well.” Lord Dalbury’s voice softened in disbelief. “Then we might have met under much different circumstances...” He stood silent, lost in thought.
“So you said that night.”
His attention snapped back to her. “Do you remember everything about that night?”
“Every moment of it is seared into my memory, my lord,” she said bitterly. “But I can understand why you might easily forget it. It was probably one of many such nights for you.” Her contempt must have resonated with him, for he suddenly refused to meet her eyes.
“I assure you, there was never a night like that before.” He spoke quietly, and she sensed tension in him. “I had never done such a thing before. Never participated in such an auction. Never tried to take a woman unwillingly to my bed.” He stopped speaking. Just stopped. Then his breath hissed as though he’d slowly released it.
“I cannot find the words to tell you how deeply I regret I was not a better man that night.” He paused, and she held still and waited. “What I tried to do was madness, without thought, without honor. I do not even have an excuse other than my base desires, and that your abundant charms overwhelmed me.” His face was shadowy in the scarce light of the sickle moon, but he sounded contrite. “I have no right to ask for your forgiveness. I have no right to expect it. But I would ask you to allow me to attempt to remedy the situation.”
Kat shook her head slowly. “What on earth do you believe you could do, Lord Dalbury, that could even come close to a remedy for the terror and humiliation you put me through? Do you think now that I have met you, heard your feeble attempts at an apology, and rejected them, the memory of that night will magically disappear?” She fought to control her anger, though she yearned to blast him with it. “What magic potion would you have me take that would erase t
he memory of you pinning me to the bed? Because if you have such an elixir, then yes, I will gladly take it from you and obliterate you absolutely and irrevocably.”
He stood silent at her words, then said simply, “I have only myself to offer, my lady.”
“You would have me kill you, my lord? In that, too, I agree I would oblige you, but not at the cost of my own life. I understand the English law punishes those who do murder quite severely.” Kat was astonished when he lurched backward, as from a blow.
“No, my lady, I would not have you kill me,” he said, sounding grimly amused. “Though indeed that would probably give you most satisfaction. I meant I would have you marry me.”
His words surprised a laugh out of her. “Marry you?” The laughter grew. “I see, my lord, you think me both a whore and a fool.”
“I think you are neither, Lady Katarina.”
“Then you are the fool to believe I would put such a man as you in control of every aspect of my life.” That he thought she would even entertain the suggestion was insulting.
The pale moonlight shadowed his face, but she could read displeasure there just the same. “You judge me solely on one act that, I assure you, was grossly out of character for me. You cannot possibly know what kind of husband I would be.”
“And never will, Lord Dalbury. I can swear to you that I would not marry you if I were in Hell and you were my only hope of Heaven.”
He inclined his head toward her, a faint smile touching his lips. “I believe you made a similar claim about dancing with me, Lady Katarina. Yet we have indeed enjoyed a dance together despite your words.” His tone was soft, the sensuous, cajoling one he had used to seduce her that night in the House of Pleasure.
Kat trembled, recalling the incredible sensations of his hands, his mouth on her body. Damn. He could not do this to her again. Not just with his voice.
