It was all over, and yet, Hero felt like her life was just beginning. Although she was inclined to toss out her boy’s clothing, Kit insisted she keep it in case she wanted to muck about with the new landscaping that he planned for Oakfield. Hero smiled to herself, certain that his reasons had less to do with work than play. Hadn’t he whispered something to that effect last night, about the look of her legs, clad in breeches?
Hero flushed as the memories rushed back of his long, slow seduction, intent yet playful, sweet yet fierce, a tangle of limbs and smooth skin, and Kit’s mouth moving upon her. He had whispered of his love over and over until Hero had haltingly spoken herself, stuttering at first, as she choked with the force of her emotion. It returned now, and she had to swallow hard as she packed away her boy’s clothes for some future romp with her future husband.
Although Hero insisted that quid pro quo demanded Kit keep his Harlequin costume, he balked, claiming that he had already arranged for the earl’s purloined masquerades to be returned to Cheswick. However, when pressed, he reluctantly agreed to wear something similar should Hero devise it—as long as no one else was involved in its construction.
Hero’s cheeks grew heated at the thought, and she realized the project would be as good a reason as any to perfect her meagre sewing skills. But she said nothing to Kit as he escorted her to the parlour for some biscuits and chocolate. The hot drink was a delight that Hero had never known before, and she finished her own cup and then half of Kit’s, while he complained about the missing Mrs Armstrong.
“It appears your would-be chaperone has fled,” Kit said, leaning back in a chair near the fire. “So we’ll have to see about obtaining another.” Putting his feet up on a nearby hassock, he looked as though he might nod off, which was not surprising, considering how little sleep either of them had got the night before.
That memory not only made Hero flush, but seemed to negate her need for a chaperone, and they were in the midst of arguing the point when a commotion erupted in the foyer. Charlie’s butler arrived one step ahead of a pair of guests, but he did not have a chance to announce them before the woman rushed forward.
“Kit!” she called out. He rose to his feet in response, and Hero felt a stab of alarm. But as the lady flung herself toward Kit, the uncanny resemblance between them became apparent, and Hero realized this must be his sister, Sydony. At the discovery, Hero’s alarm turned into a kind of queasy feeling that had nothing to do with the chocolate she’d consumed.
“Where the devil have you been?” Sydony demanded, and for a moment, Hero didn’t know whether she was going to strike her brother or throw herself into his arms. “I’ve been worried sick!”
“As I wrote in my letter, we had a bit of adventure,” Kit said, ruefully.
“A bit of adventure!” The woman scoffed. She nodded toward the dark, silent man, who stood distant from the siblings. “Barto and Hob have been out searching London for you! They stopped short of storming Raven Hill only to learn it burned to a hollow shell last night!”
Kit looked apologetic. “I’d forgotten about Hob.”
“Yes, Hob! He came to us with tales of knife-wielding assailants, kidnappers, warrants…” Sydony paused as though to catch her breath. “I didn’t know whether to go on with the wedding, or if you’d be there, or even where you were or if you were hurt…” She trailed off, a stricken look on her beautiful face, and Kit soon was patting her back in awkward comfort.
Although Hero could understand the woman’s agitation, it did little to ease her own queasiness. For it was she, a total stranger, who had put Kit in danger and wrought havoc in all their lives. Would they hold her responsible?
As if sensing Hero’s thoughts, the woman turned from Kit to look at Hero, her dark eyes missing nothing. “And you must be Hero,” she said. “Are you all right?”
The question was not what Hero expected, and it took a moment to respond. When she nodded warily, Sydony moved to take both her hands. “Well, then, welcome to the family.”
“What?” Kit asked, looking startled. “How did you know?”
“Perhaps it was the undertone of your letter.” The dark man stepped forward, his tone wry. “I’m Viscount Hawthorne.”
“Just call him Barto,” Sydony said, pulling Hero down into a chair and taking a seat beside her. Now that she had found her brother in good health, she appeared more composed and less daunting.
Yet Hero remained uncertain. Her stomach seemed to have settled, but she was not accustomed to being the center of such attention and her dealings with women, especially those near her own age, had been few. Her anxiety was not eased by her sudden realization that she was destined to call the future viscount-ess her sister.
Although Sydony leaned forward, as if expectant, Hero had no idea what to say. She knew nothing of the traditional female occupations and could not watercolor or play the pianoforte. Nor did she even trust herself to conduct a proper conversation on feminine topics until Sydony put her at ease with a smile and a single demand.
“Now, tell me everything.”
Epilogue
K it stood on the threshold of the barn from which he and Hero had once made their escape and smiled, for the view before him was much changed. Then, it had been cold and dark, an eerie fog veiling the bleak landscape devastated by the fire behind his home. But now, the summer sun shown upon neat lawns that stretched up to Oakfield’s rebuilt terrace.
The property was a far cry from the one Kit had inherited. The lands that had lain fallow were tilled, the formerly empty tenant farms bustling with life. Sheep grazed not far away, and he could see a horse and plough off in the distance, growing crops that had made the estate a success and bounty that made his table groan with good food.
The house that had seemed cursed now glowed in the afternoon light, its stone stripped of dark growth. The stables had been rebuilt, bigger and better than before, and the blackened remains of the maze had been cleared away, replaced by clipped grass and new trees and plantings. Kit had helped in the design himself, disdaining the old formal beds for bright spots of colorful flowers scattered among gravel paths.
It was a place to walk and linger and sit upon benches tucked in the shade, and sometimes Kit couldn’t believe his good fortune. Immediately after the fire, he would have never imagined this outcome, and he knew who to thank for it all. But for the arrival of Hero, he might still be stuck in the dismals, drinking and brooding, while his holdings further deteriorated around him.
Now, he could look back without flinching. The fire had changed him, but it had not scarred him, becoming nothing more than a bad memory. Afterward, he had matured from a careless boy into a responsible man, shedding the guilt and tension, with Hero’s help, until he felt like himself again, at home in his own skin.
Although she claimed that all he needed was to pummel someone insensible, it was more than that. By protecting Hero, Kit had redeemed himself, and now he felt he could handle just about anything. Although he had stopped looking over his shoulder for Druids, he stayed alert, intent upon guarding his own.
Those experiences had also taught him to savor every moment, and Kit did so now, taking a deep breath scented with grass and flowers. Ahead, on one of the gravel walks, he could see the figures of Sydony, Barto and their son Max gamboling with the dogs, carefree and happy, and he felt the same.
Behind him, he heard Hero’s light footfalls, and as she moved to stand beside him, Kit slipped an arm around her. His hand immediately moved to rest upon the swelling that marked the child who would be coming soon.
“How are George and Harold?” he asked.
“And Missy and Clyde and Thomas and Toby….” Hero’s recitation trailed off into a laugh. “All the cats and kittens are well. In fact, I’ve another who wishes to come to the house with me.”
Kit groaned as she lifted her hand to reveal a tiny, orange ball of fur, purring contentedly. “It’s not sleeping in our bed,” he said.
“I love you,” she whisp
ered, knowing full well that the admission, so long in coming, was bound to bend him to her will.
“I love you, too,” Kit said, because he knew she never got tired of hearing it. Turning his head to nuzzle her silken hair, he resigned himself, with a smile, to yet another cat.
But how could he deny his wife anything when she continued to surprise and delight him? Once distant and secretive, she had proven to be warm and giving, and laughter filled their days. She had made their home welcoming and comfortable, a haven for all who came to visit, not just Syd and Barto. Why, the last time Charlie had been here, he threatened never to leave.
The library was filled to overflowing with her inheritance, and she had been named Raven’s heir, as well. Although Hero had sold off what little was left of Raven Hill as quickly as possible, she had decorated Oakfield with the “blood money” that her father must have paid her caretaker over the years.
But after updating the catalogue and parting with some volumes, Hero had shown little interest in the books that had once been such a part of her life, and Kit sometimes wondered…He slanted her a speculative glance. “Do you ever miss your adventures?”
She blinked at the unexpected question. “I never had any until I met you.”
“What about all your book dealings?”
Hero shook her head as she put the kitten to her cheek. “Those were usually boring transactions made with dull antiquarians, hardly something I enjoyed.” She looked up at him, her lips curving. “Are you saying life with you isn’t an adventure?
Kit shrugged. “Well, I am just a gentleman farmer.”
Hero laughed. “I don’t think so,” she said, slipping an arm around his waist. “You might have the rest of the world convinced, but you can’t fool me, Kit Marchant.” Her eyes shining, she gave him a teasing smile.
“You’re a gentleman and a scholar.”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4827-8
THE GENTLEMAN’S QUEST
Copyright © 2010 by Deborah Siegenthal
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*The de Burghs
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