Vivian couldn’t stand anyone maligning her friend. “Kay can have any man she wishes. She’s the daughter of an Earl. Her grandmother is a Countess for pity sake.”
“Well, lovely seeing you, do have a wonderful evening.” Kay flashed a brilliant smile as she captured Vive’s arm to sail off through the doors toward the other end of the balcony.
“She is the worst sort of viper!” Vivian raged when they reached the stone rail bathed in pale moonlight. “I don’t know how you tolerate her.” She took a large gulp of champagne, her bosom heaving within the confines of her white silk gown. “I suppose it’s that easy nature of yours. You’re too kind by far to the little whore. Yes I said whore, a very naughty word, but the only one that applies in this instance, I’m afraid. Everyone says she has a lover, and I firmly believe it.”
“Why do you let her get under your skin?” Kay forced a laugh, “You’re only giving her what she wants. I have to admit, I feel a bit sorry for Phelia. She hasn’t an easy life with Lord Galloway for a father.”
“Yes, he’s an old tyrant, according to Charlie.” Vivian waved a hand in the air as though failing to see how it mattered. “I think that’s why Charlie does his best to give him a run for his money.”
“On the other hand, Phelia’s been all too eager to please her father and increase their social standing. Unfortunately, her quest for status has led her to an unhappy match. That’s very sad, don’t you think?”
“Hence the lover,” Vivian said with a long meaningful look. “Speaking of lovers, here comes Mr. Westman. I wouldn’t mind leaving my slippers under his bed. He must be coming to fetch me. I’d forgotten I’d promised him the next dance.”
“Oh dear, Lord Herrington will be looking for me as well. I don’t think I can bear it. My feet are killing me. If you see him, direct him to the refreshment room. That should buy me some time.” Kay had only promised him a second dance after making the blunder of informing him she had left a free space on her card for Charlie who wasn’t coming after all.
Charlie.
Wait until she got her hands on him.
But there was no sense torturing herself tonight.
After Vivian glided off, Kay lingered by the rail sipping her champagne. Breathing in the warm night air, listening to the strains of the waltz wafting up from the dance floor below made her restless. The hectic whirl of society stifled everything good in her. She longed for the freedom of Butterfield Hall. It didn’t seem so long ago that she and Charlie rambled about, exploring caves along the beach for pirate’s treasure, or sneaking out at night to ride to the gypsy’s camp on the heath.
Absently, she watched a couple strolling in the well-lit garden below, enjoying the solitude of the starlit night. The raspberry scent of roses mingled with the fresh smell of cut grass drifted past her nose on the breeze. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a fair head disappear down the path under a curl of white smoke. Hmmm, Uncle Fabian must be in the garden after all.
She took one last sip of champagne, then set her glass on the rail. A mischief bubbled in her breast as she glided down the wide stone stairs. Following the path round a grouping of trees, she found him sitting on a pretty lattice bench.
With laughter in her throat, she tiptoed up to put her hands over his eyes. “Guess who?”
“I don’t know, but your hands are very soft, and you smell good enough to eat.”
At the sound of the American accent, Kay’s heart lurched. She snatched her hands away so fast they might have been pressed on a hot iron. “Please forgive me… I… I thought you were someone else.”
When the gentleman stood, she could see he was taller and broader than her Uncle Fabian. Though very handsome, the predatory gleam in his eye made her wary. “So you’re the little darlin’ Hunter’s been raving about. Let’s have a look at you,” he drawled. The smell of brandy on his breath sent warning bells ringing in her head. He wasn’t staggering or slurring his speech, just a mite overly friendly. He snatched up one of her hands and brought them to his lips.
Kay stared back at him in shock.
“I dread to think what you cost. My god, you’re a raving beauty aren’t you,
Sweetheart.”
“I…I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. I’m not who you think I am,” she
choked out, backing away.
“Now don’t be coy,” he coaxed, “I haven’t got all night. I’m not in mood for virginal games.”
“What!” Before she could turn round he’d taken a step forward. He made a grab for her, as though he would gather her up in his arms. But thanks to her quick reaction, he only managed to catch hold of her sleeve, almost spilling one breast from her bodice.
Outrage rose in her breast.
Kay slapped him soundly across the face.
“Damn! What did you do that for?” He rubbed his cheek, giving her a boyish look of hurt.
“Bloody hell, Alex! What are you doing?” An authoritative, distinctly English voice intervened. “I told you to meet us in Garwood’s carriage.”
“Garwood? I thought you said garden. Or was it gorgeous…gorgeous woman in the garden. Yes, that sounds more like it.” The American’s gaze roamed over her with hungry concentration. “She is gorgeous don’t you think?”
Kay didn’t wait to hear more. She whirled away, hurrying down the path in the opposite direction. All she could think of was getting away. The prick of tears stung her eyes as she ran. A painful lump of humiliation gathered in her throat. The man had obviously mistaken her for a courtesan or some similar species of female. How horrid!
When she reached a trickling fountain in the center of the garden she stopped. Her breath rasped through her lips in short ragged gasps. She sank down on the bench beside the fountain, and with shaking fingers, quickly adjusted the sleeve of her gown. It took a few slow deep breaths to collect herself. You’re fine. You’re not even hurt. Stop being so foolish.
A deep voice interrupted her frantic ramblings. “Please accept my apologies. I’m afraid my friend mistook you for someone else.”
Kay came to her feet with a start at the sound of her rescuer’s voice. His tone wasn’t as authoritative or rough as it had been, nor was it warm. But something oddly familiar about it drew her gaze upward to his face.
If his friend was handsome, he was exceedingly so, at least he would be, if not for the serious set of his features. His brandy colored eyes contrasted sharply with his glossy black hair, curling at the edge of his white linen collar. His nose slashed straight and well defined above his perfectly formed lips and strong jaw. Despite his exquisitely cut black evening coat and richly embroidered cream waistcoat, she sensed a danger that made her take a small step back.
She nodded silently, blinking against the moisture in her eyes, afraid to speak lest her voice break and he think her a fool.
He kept his distance, as though he didn’t wish to spook her any more than she
already had been, all the while, observing her closing. Then, he held out a hand. “Come, I’ll escort you back. You shouldn’t have come out here alone.”
“That won’t be necessary,” she croaked. To be seen in the company of a gentleman other than one’s family was unseemly. It would blacken her reputation. Didn’t he realize that?
“Just to the bottom of the stairs,” he coaxed.
His calm assurance soothed her ragged nerves. After a brief hesitation she said, “Very well, to the stairs.” She took his arm, offering him a tentative smile. “Are you in a habit of arranging assignations for your friends with er… young ladies?”
He raised an eyebrow at her directness, then quirked a half-wry smile “And what would an innocent miss like you know of assignations?”
Her cheeks went hot under his intense regard, “Nothing, I assure you.” She looked away. That was when she noticed the rent in her sleeve. She stopped in mid stride, placing her hand over it protectively. “My gown. I can’t go back inside like this.”
“Humm, quite s
o.” He gave her a long considering look. “If you give me your ticket for the cloak room, I’ll see you put safely in a carriage pointed for home.”
“I haven’t got the ticket.” She released a puff of exasperation. “Uncle Fabian has it.”
“Ah yes, your uncle.” A wry smile curled his lips. “Perhaps I should take you
home then.”
“Thank you, but my uncle would frown upon that. He’s a bit of a stickler for propriety you see.” It was Uncle Fergus who was the stickler, but this stranger need not know which Uncle she was referring to. Fabian was probably so engrossed at the card table he hadn’t even missed her yet.
“I’m sure he is,” he said smoothly. “Very well. My footman is quite accomplished with a needle. If you come with me to my carriage, he’ll set you to rights in no time.”
“You’re most kind. I’m sorry I can’t say the same for your friend,” she told him with frank hostility. “He isn’t by any chance also waiting in your carriage?”
He chuckled. “No, we came separately. Not to worry, you’ll be quite safe.”
Kay followed him through the cover of trees to the garden-gate, her only thought repairing her gown. However, her pace slowed and became more hesitant as they neared the vehicle. There was something oddly familiar about him, but she couldn’t quite think what it was. The certain something hovered on the fringes of her mind, teasing, then receding—never coming fully to the surface.
When they reached the carriage, she turned to him with a worrying frown. He appeared very large, almost threatening in the darkness. Was it fear making her innards go all fluttery, or was it him? She wasn’t accustomed to large men. Her uncles were delicately boned, impeccably mannered, and gently spoken. Perhaps that was why her heart tapped so hard against her breast. Or was it something else—the magic her Grandmere had spoken of?
He stood so close, she could smell the spicy scent of his shaving soap, feel the heat radiating off his body. The shock of his friend’s attack slowly dissipated; to be replaced by the knowledge of the impropriety of her situation.
She peered uncertainly down the street toward the well-lit stone steps of the Carbery’s mansion, then back at him. “I don’t even know your name.”
Chapter Three
“My friends call me Hunter.”
Kay considered his smiling face. It was a name befitting strength and courage, suiting his gallant behavior. Yet, she could never bring herself to call him by his Christian name. It wasn’t proper.
Still, if he was conscientious enough to try to put to right his friend’s mistake, it would be churlish to refuse the offer. She accepted his hand, allowing him the help her into the carriage.
“Where is Robert?” He called to the red liveried driver. Apparently this was the footman who was to repair her gown.
“He’s gone to assist Mr. Macintosh,” the driver called down from his perch. “Some dispute at the card table, resulting in fisticuffs, I believe.”
“Bloody Hell! I thought Alex had left!” Hunter poked his head inside the carriage and gave her an apologetic smile. “Wait right here. This will only take a moment.”
She watched him stride off down the walk toward the entrance of the house, thinking how tall and incredibly handsome he was.
But, after a time, when the footman failed to materialize with his needle and thread, Kay began to have grave misgivings about her situation. The longer she sat in the strange carriage, the more uneasy she became.
After all, what did she really know about this man? It seemed strange that he’d only offered his Christian name and nothing more. Though he had rescued her from his ardent friend and sought to make amends, could she really trust him? If his intentions were honorable, where was the footman he’d promised? The longer she waited the greater the chance that someone might come along and catch sight of her in his carriage.
Making a quick decision, she exited the vehicle. She couldn’t risk her reputation further. ‘Twould be safer to procure a hack and find her own way home.
After a quick look round, she hurried down the empty walk to hail one of the drivers sitting along the square.
When Kay arrived home, she’d send word to Fabian of her whereabouts. She tried not to think of Fergus’ stern disapproval when he discovered her evening adventure.
As luck would have it, Fergus had already retired for the evening. Cecil raised an eyebrow briefly, but agreed to send word of her whereabouts to Fabian by way of one of the footman.
Lily helped her out of her gown, tut tutting at the rent in the sleeve, then assured her it was only a seam, which could be easily mended. A relief to be sure, since Fergus had spent a great deal on the new gown. He was likely to have a fit.
By the time Fabian arrived home, she was tucked in under the sheets and fast asleep, at least, she assumed so. If he slipped into her bedchamber to check on her, she did not know.
***
Shopping in Bond Street with Lady Carlisle was a blissful distraction to Kay, until her older family friend turned from the looking glass to say, “I’m in desperate need of a new hat, as I’ll be accompanying the Duke of Wallshire to Convent Gardens tonight.”
Kay’s heart gave a jolt.
“What do you think?” Lady Carlisle tilted her head to better display the flat-crowned straw she’d placed on her head.
Kay’s mouth went dry. What rotten luck that Lady Carlisle should be associated with the Duke. Yet quite natural she supposed, since they were close in age, both nearing thirty and traveling in the same social circles. Still, it made her go weak to learn of their close acquaintance.
She’d known Lady Carlisle since she was a child. Her husband, Lord Carlisle, had been a friend of her father’s. They had frequented the same clubs, liked the same brandy, often bet on the same horses. ‘Twas a shock to learn Lady Carlisle was keeping company with her newfound enemy.
Kay’s distress must have shown on her face. Lady Carlisle’s countenance quickly changed from expectant pleasure to concern. “You’re looking awfully pale, my dear. It must be the heat and crush of so many bodies. Come, I’ll take you outside for some air.”
Kay recovered quickly, offering a tight forced smile. “No, no…I’m quite alright,” she assured her, considering the gypsy bonnet with the rakish scarf. “Perhaps not. The veil will be a nuisance at dinner, don’t you think?”
“Quite right.” Lady Carlisle replaced the hat, “Quite impractical. I’ll have to do without. In a few days time I’ll be going down to Bath. Perhaps I’ll find something there for the next outing. Now, what about you?” She took Kay by the arm to lead her out of the crowded shop. “You haven’t bought a thing. I’ll take you to my dressmakers if you like. She’s a marvel at knowing just the right style for the right figure. Although with your trim long lines, you’d look lovely in anything.”
Kay went warm. That was certainly a generous compliment coming from such a beautiful woman. “Very well, if you think we have time.”
“Oh gad, we have lots of time. Besides, I have a dress there that needs fitting. You can peruse the fabrics and view the latest creations. There must be some special young man you’d like to impress.”
An image of her gallant rescuer at the ball popped into Kay’s head. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Ah, I see that there is.”
“Perhaps.” Remembering his handsome face made her heart tap faster. Would she ever see him again? How must he have reacted, when he returned to his carriage to find her missing?
When they arrived at the dressmakers, Lady Carlisle was hustled off to the fitting rooms to consult with one of the seamstress.
Kay wandered round the shop feeling very drab in her pink muslin gown and simple white shawl surrounded by so much rich fabric. Just the same, it was nice to see all of the new colors, trims, and lace without the uncles bickering in the background.
A bolt of ruby silk caught her eye. She ran her hand down the length of it. How tired she was of her wardrobe of bland pastels. O
f course, it was frowned upon for unmarried girls to be seen in darker shades. It just wasn’t done, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming. If only she’d been wearing a gown made of the rich ruby silk last night. What would her gallant rescuer have thought of her then?
She continued to examine it longingly, even after the tinkle of the bell on the shop door announced another customer.
“Hello, Gorgeous,” A bold voice whispered against her ear.
Kay was so startled to find the one she’d been thinking of conjured before her, her mind went perfectly blank. Her heart began to race. The sight of him, so tall and rakishly handsome in his dark blue suit, and cream waistcoat, left her tongue-tied. It took her a moment to collect herself.
“Hello,” she said, feeling a fool for not knowing how to address him, but he’d only given his Christian name. She looked around, conscious of the impropriety of conversing with a stranger in so public a place. Thankfully the proprietress, Madame Careme, was occupied with another customer just then, or what might she have thought.
“I’m happy to see you well after our last encounter.” The smooth tone of his words rolled over her like rainwater. “I fear I owe you a new gown. Choose anything you like. I’ll arrange payment.”
Kay’s cheeks drew heat, taken aback and abashed by his suggestion. Did he think her a courtesan to be bought off with trifles? Young ladies didn’t accept gifts from total strangers, at least not nice young ladies. No gentleman would suggest such a thing! But perhaps he wasn’t a gentleman—perhaps that was why he’d only given her his Christian name. “That isn’t necessary, I assure you.” she said stiffly. “The gown was easily mended.”
He flashed a disarming smile, and for the first time she noticed a dimple in his left cheek. “There must be some way to appease my conscience in this matter. What would you suggest?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” Kay stared back at him stupidly, momentarily transfixed by his perfectly sculpted features. “I mean… nothing!” She took a step backward.
The Thief and the Rogue Page 3
