The Last Killiney

by J. Jay Kamp

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sealed off in her chambers upstairs, she realized just what it meant to be alone with Christian.

  She watched him pace back and forth before the fireplace, only it was nothing like any pacing she’d ever seen. He walked with the surety of a lion. Padding in fashionably silk-laced shoes, he held one slender hand to his hip, the other in distress at his delicate brow. When suddenly he fell to his knees before her, she jumped about a foot.

  “Tell me there’s been no proposal,” he said, putting his hands in hers. “Tell me, and all will be forgiven.”

  She carefully withdrew from his grip. “I can’t tell you that. And I haven’t done anything to need your forgiveness.”

  “The abuse of our friendship, your attention for that swine—must I remind you? Tell me it’s a rumor!”

  “I can’t!” she shouted back. This got his attention. His ardor faded, replaced by a lost sort of quality that made her feel as if she’d abandoned him. She got the distinct impression that this was the desired effect, for at the sight of such despondency, Ravenna could think of nothing to say.

  Of course, Christian had no such problem. “How can you love him? You know Killiney is a man used to the dispossession of women for his own advancement. He and your brother are inseparable, is this fact completely lost on you?”

  “He’s not the same man.”

  “Because he wishes to marry you, you believe this?”

  “I mean he’s not the same man.” She considered telling him the truth then, about the transition, about the future. If she told him, she wouldn’t have to lie, something she wasn’t good at anyway. Telling him would be so much easier than pretending she was Elizabeth. She knew, though, that the real story would bring even more questions, the answers to which were not nearly as pleasant as those she’d had for James.

  As she weighed the decision in her mind, a knock came on the door. Christian arose from his position on the floor, and she took the opportunity to escape him.

  Paul was outside. Knowing of Christian’s keen interest in their affairs, Ravenna shut the door on his prying ears and joined Paul in the passageway.

  His eyes were thick with concern as he scanned her for signs of distress. “You all right?”

  “He’s harmless yet, don’t worry.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Paul glanced at the door nervously. “You’re not going to tell him, are you? Because he might mess things up a bit, and I don’t think we should be trusting our lives to the cut of this guy.”

  “If we don’t tell him, you’ll have to be my fiancé every time he’s in the room.”

  “And he’s going on the voyage, yeah?”

  Ravenna nodded. Paul’s face seemed to fall in response. “I can see right now he’s not gonna buy it. Not unless you and I are gettin’ along, and every minute of the day, as well.”

  “Do you mind?” she asked.

  He bit his lip and looked at the door. “No, I don’t really.”

  Taking her arm, he directed her grasp toward the polished handle. “Better attend to the business at hand. If he misbehaves, scream at the top of yer lungs. He’ll be up to his bleedin’ oxters in trouble before he knows what hit him, I promise.”

  When Paul had gone, she turned back to find Christian seated before the fire. “Look,” she said, taking the chair across from his, “I know I haven’t been myself since Killiney arrived, but things are different now. He and I are going to get married. I didn’t do it to hurt you, Christian—”

  “Wound,” he said. “You’ve wounded me. You’ve surpassed the limitations of mere hurt.”

  “Then I’m sorry. I never meant for that to happen. I’ve handled the situation poorly, I know, but…”

  He showed no sign of bestowing his forgiveness as he’d earlier proposed. He settled back more comfortably and smiled deliberately. “Go on,” he said.

  She took a deep breath. Only seconds before she’d assured Paul that this man was harmless. But now, behind his manipulative smile, she glimpsed the truth about Christian Hallett: All smuggery and sweetness, lord only knew what he’d do with the future if given the chance.

  So she decided to forge ahead with the apologetic approach. “I know it’s selfish of me to ask, but…could we still be friends? With Killiney around, I know it won’t be easy on you, but I promise I won’t send you away like before. I won’t even talk about Killiney in front of you. If you want, I won’t even mention his name—”

  “When do you wed this lowly viscount?”

  “Christian—”

  “Well, is he not lowly? A viscountcy is below an earldom, or am I not allowed to dwell on such facts?”

  “Christian, I’m trying to make amends with you.”

  “You’re trying to make me a consenting party to your pathetic domestication! And by a Celtic viscount, no less! Do you really wish me to so pleasantly witness your social demise? Do you really wish me to give you up without a fight?”

  “Yes!” The word flew out of her mouth, and for an instant Christian hesitated, as if what he’d been planning to say had been nullified by the readiness of her answer.

  It occurred to her then that her quick response might not have been the most kind, but Christian merely narrowed his gaze and went on with his demands. “When is this accursed wedding?”

  “It’s not cursed.”

  “Very well, mismatched. When should I expect to spout lies of well-wishing to the undeserving?”

  “I don’t know. Sometime after the voyage.”

  “And should he die of some sailor’s pestilence, scurvy perhaps, what then would you say? Would you still refuse me?”

  “Then I’d die of scurvy, too,” she said carefully. “I’m joining the voyage, Christian. Vancouver’s asked me to go to America.”

  By the look she saw on his face, Ravenna felt as if she’d told him she was dying. His boyish features paled. Without thinking, he closed the distance between them and put his hands around hers again, and as she waited through his obvious efforts to regain control of himself, his eyes wandered desperately around the room.

  Almost a full minute passed.

  Finally, when he managed to speak, the sincerity of his words seemed surprisingly genuine. “Even when we were children, not a year could divide us.” He toyed with Paul’s ring, turned it in circles around her finger in thoughtless frustration. “Did I not always find some excuse to come visiting, to seek Uncle’s advice, to borrow his influence or his money only to be at Wolvesfield with you? Must you now divide us with oceans and years as well as marriage, after all I have done to be near you? Must you leave me?”

  “I have to follow my heart,” she answered, trying not to be moved by his plea. “I have to do what I have to do, whether it hurts you or not.” And thinking to dispel that tremble to his grasp, she tightened her hand around his. She knew she’d upset him.

  Still, she wasn’t prepared for his reaction. He lifted his gray eyes to hers, and with all the vulnerability of a pit bull, he scowled. “Then so do I.” Pulling his hands away, letting her know the depth of her crime, Christian’s eyes lingered on hers until the door had closed between them.

  Only after he’d gone did Ravenna notice her commode had been opened, its contents obviously rifled through.