Kate watched as Miss Willory and her chaperone were ushered into the parlor. Blast, there went any hope that the woman would retire to her room after her long journey. And stay there for the duration of the party.
To her complete shock, Mr. Hunter’s dark head quite suddenly peered over her right shoulder. “What are we looking at?”
Five
Kate jumped and spun around at the sound of Mr. Hunter’s voice. In retrospect, it might have been a better choice to stay as she’d been, peering around the corner of the hall, because jumping and spinning only resulted in her catching Lizzy in the side with her elbow, and then coming to a stop with the hard wall at her back and Mr. Hunter’s hard form not three inches from her nose. She knew his form was hard, because she’d caught him in the belly with her other elbow in the spinning process, and he hadn’t emitted so much as a grunt.
Her heart leapt up to lodge in her throat. The air backed up in her lungs. And both reactions, she assured herself, were from the surprise—they hadn’t a thing to do with his nearness. She blinked at his cravat for a second before slowly lifting her eyes to meet his.
The blighter had the nerve to grin down at her. “Startled you again, did I?”
Finding her breath once more, she wedged her arm between them, placed the flat of her hand against his chest—his decidedly hard chest—and pushed him back a step.
“How long have you been standing here?” she demanded for the second time in less than a half hour.
He continued to grin. “Just long enough to wonder how long the two of you have been standing there.”
“We’ve not…”
“Three minutes, at least,” Lizzy supplied, rubbing at her ribs where Kate had elbowed her.
Kate swallowed a groan, along with the apology she’d been about to offer. “You really are incapable of keeping anything to yourself.”
Lizzy shrugged, clearly unrepentant. “I can if it’s asked of me.”
“What were you watching for the last three minutes?” Mr. Hunter inquired.
“Nothing.” Kate threw a hard look at Lizzy before continuing. “It really isn’t anything you need concern yourself over. I thought you were inspecting Mr. Abott’s mare.”
“Never said I’d inspect the mare, only said I’d look at it, which I have,” Hunter replied easily. “And I’m not quite so concerned by what you and Lizzy have been watching as I am intrigued.” He leaned a little to glance around the corner. “Was there a spot of mischief happening before I came along? A lover’s spat? An assignation?”
“An assignation?” she repeated, a bubble of laughter forming in her throat. “In the foyer?”
“It would certainly merit three minutes of staring.”
“We were not staring for three minutes.” At least two of them had been reserved for contemplation.
“It was closer to four, really,” Lizzy said with a sly smile for Kate. “You’ve still not asked me.”
“Lizzy,” Kate ground out, “would you please be so kind as to keep our business to yourself?”
“Certainly, though I don’t see why it need be secret.”
“Neither do I,” Mr. Hunter remarked.
“It’s not a secret, it’s…Oh, never mind.” She pushed at a lock of hair that had come loose when Mr. Hunter had startled her. “Lizzy, Mother’s waiting.”
Lizzy pulled a face. “Must I go?”
Kate hesitated, torn between desiring Lizzy’s reassuring presence in the parlor, and wanting Lizzy’s comfort. The latter won out fairly quickly, but she let the silence drag out a few extra seconds in retribution for Lizzy’s loose tongue. “If you’d rather not, I’m sure I can manage it on my own. Although—”
“Excellent. I’ll just be in my room, then.”
Kate sighed as Lizzy made a rapid escape down the hall. “So much for loyalty in the face of adversity.”
“You could have insisted she come,” Hunter pointed out.
“No reason for the both of us to be miserable,” she grumbled.
He bent his head to catch her eye. “What’s changed since I left you on the lawn?”
“What do you mean?” she asked, noticing for the first time that he’d smoothed the flyaway locks of his hair. She wondered if the man was vain, or just very neat.
“You were happy enough to go in for tea when I saw you last,” he explained. “What’s changed?”
She shook her head. “Nothing that warrants the waste of three perfectly good minutes.” She positively refused to admit it might have been closer to four.
He offered his arm and a reassuring smile. “Whatever it is, we’ll brave it together.”
She looked at his arm, then him. She couldn’t find a trace of arrogance in his dark eyes, nor teasing in his tone. “Are you offering to be my friend, Mr. Hunter?”
His expression didn’t change, but unless she was much mistaken, his voice softened a little. “Would you like me to be?”
Yes.
Kate bit back the instinctual reply. The man was too arrogant by half all ready. No reason to go adding to his vanity with instantaneous agreement simply because she was curious. And given the fractious nature of their encounters thus far, it might serve her well to think the offer through a bit before accepting. It might serve her very well if he knew she was thinking the offer through before accepting.
“Lady Kate?”
She held up a single finger and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “A moment.”
He was clever and witty, both points in his favor. Whit seemed to think highly of him, which helped. Furthermore, he’d been willing to speak with her of rakes and debauchers and matters of business. He’d danced with Miss Heins, and he treated Lizzy with respect.
“Right.” She nodded once. “Yes. I would, I think.”
He dropped the arm she’d been rather surprised to see he was still holding up. “You needed that long to decide?”
She decided, in the interest of friendship, to hide her amusement at his disgruntled tone. “It really isn’t a decision one should make in haste.”
“It generally isn’t one that requires extensive deliberation either,” he said dryly.
“I found this to be an exceptional case.”
A spark of humor entered his dark eyes and he offered up his arm once more. “A man can do worse than be exceptional. If you’ve made up your mind, then?”
Kate didn’t square her shoulders before entering the parlor, but only because there was a chance Mr. Hunter would notice and comment. She did, however, immediately scan the room for a chair that would put the greatest possible distance between herself and Miss Willory. With that accomplished, she none too subtly attempted to steer Mr. Hunter in that direction. A futile effort, as it turned out. Miss Willory was out of her seat and coming toward them, false smile in place, before Kate had taken more than two steps into the room.
“Lady Kate! Mr. Hunter! How marvelous to see you both.”
Even with her mother, that relentless champion of etiquette, looking on, Kate couldn’t manage a more polite greeting than a tight smile and a simple, “Miss Willory.”
Next to her, Hunter made a noise that sounded suspiciously like, “Ah.”
Miss Willory made a show of taking Kate’s free arm and pulling her away from Mr. Hunter. “Lady Kate, I’m so relieved to finally see you arrive for tea. Your mother was just saying that you’d been expected for some time. I was growing worried you’d met with a mishap.”
“I’m quite well, Miss Willory, thank you. I trust your journey was uneventful?”
There, that should please her mother. Or maybe not, Kate thought after a moment’s reflection. The dowager Lady Thurston wasn’t fond of Miss Willory either.
“Exceedingly,” Miss Willory replied with a dramatic sigh. “I vow, I nearly perished from boredom.”
“I am sorry to hear it.” She carefully pulled her arm free as they passed a small settee and she bent to place a kiss on her mother’s upturned cheek. “Afternoon
, Mother. I’m sorry I’m late.”
Lady Thurston returned the gesture. She was a small woman with soft gray hair, cheerful rosy cheeks, gentle blue eyes, and a backbone constructed entirely of iron. “Quite all right, dear. Did you enjoy your stroll on the beach?”
“I did, very much. I—”
“You went to the beach?” Miss Willory cried. Her voice came out shy of hysterical, but not shy enough. Every head in the room turned in their direction. “You went alone?”
And so it begins, Kate thought, with a sigh. “Yes. I—”
“But what if you had fallen in?”
“I imagine I would have climbed back out again.” She’d been strolling on the beach, for pity’s sake, not sailing deep waters.
“But you might have drowned—”
“In a few inches of water?”
“Certainly the beach is safe enough for most, but you might have hit your head as you tumbled in, or tangled yourself in your skirts, or—”
“Miss Willory,” Lady Thurston cut in coolly. “Your concern is noted.” She let that word hang between them, countess to ambitious commoner, for a heartbeat before daintily reaching for her cup. “But it might be better served by allowing Kate to take her seat and drink her tea.”
“Of course,” Miss Willory fairly cooed. “How thoughtless of me. You must sit down and rest, dear. You can tell us all about your little adventure, and—”
“I’m afraid I promised to take my tea with Mr. Hunter,” Kate cut in. He’d told her to save him a seat, anyway, and that very nearly qualified as the same thing. She turned and gestured to where he was standing on the far side of the room, his hands clasped behind his back and a smile playing on his lips as he watched the exchange.
Miss Willory sniffed and smoothed her skirts. “You may suit yourself, of course.”
Kate felt a moment’s guilt at leaving her mother to deal with Miss Willory alone, but the excuse to leave had been made almost involuntarily. And there was nothing to be done about it now. Everyone in the room expected her to sit with Mr. Hunter. Conscious of being watched, Kate very carefully made her way across the room. If she stumbled, she would never forgive herself.
Mr. Hunter was still smiling when she arrived. “Should I be flattered you thought of me first,” he asked quietly as he led her to a seating arrangement by the window, “or worried how easily that lie tripped off your tongue?”
“Flattered,” she told him. “And it wasn’t a lie. It was an assumption. You asked me to save you a seat. Naturally, I assumed you wished to sit next to me.”
“Mostly I was afraid I’d be the only one left without a place to sit. Awkward for a man to stand about in a parlor, dainty little cup in his hand.”
“Oh, look,” one of the ladies suddenly exclaimed, pointing out the window to where a rider was coming up the drive. “It’s Lord Martin, isn’t it?”
“Come to see his father, the dear boy,” someone else commented.
“Come to see a certain lady is more likely the case,” someone else said softly.
Kate pretended not to hear, just as she pretended not to see several heads once again turn in her direction, and just as she pretended not to feel a small pang of disappointment as the rider drew close enough for her to be certain that it was indeed Lord Martin. It was silly of her to be disappointed. She’d known he might come, and he hadn’t done anything to make her uncomfortable in his presence…not lately.
Kate glanced at Miss Willory. Had she known Lord Martin would attend? It would certainly go a long way toward explaining her visit. An earl’s only son was a far better catch than a Scottish baron, provided the earl was wealthy and not too stingy in his allowance, or too sturdy in health, or unlikely to allow the match, or…perhaps it wasn’t Lord Martin.
She took one more look at the newcomer as he climbed down from his horse. He certainly was handsome—tall and fair-haired with soulful blue eyes, an aquiline nose, and the narrow waist and wide shoulders all the dandies strove for. She’d been disappointed to discover on the occasion of their first waltz that he obtained that appearance by the use of padding. The result of which was that his shoulders felt—as Mirabelle had once put it—rather squishy.
With a small smile at the memory, she turned away from the window to find Mr. Hunter watching her, his expression unreadable.
“Particular friend of yours?” he asked.
“I’ve known him most of my life.” She glanced back at Lord Martin as he carefully smoothed his blonde hair. “But no, he’s not a particular friend.”
“Kate, dear, look who arrived not two hours ago. You remember Mr. Laury, do you not?”
Kate turned her head at the sound of her mother’s voice. Lady Thurston stood before them with a tall, thin, and rather nervous looking young man at her side. He had light brown hair and intense, dark green eyes hidden behind spectacles.
“Yes, of course.” She’d spoken with Mr. Laury only a handful of times and just briefly on each occasion. But those short exchanges had been more than enough for her to discover Mr. Laury, although a very polite gentleman, had markedly little talent for conversation. He fidgeted, blushed, appeared to have difficulty forming whole sentences, and always cut the conversation short.
Kate wondered what her mother meant bringing him over in such an obvious fashion. Lady Thurston made no secret of her desire to see her only daughter wed, but she was generally much more subtle in her efforts. And the maneuver had clearly made poor Mr. Laury uncomfortable. The man was sweating a bit about the hairline.
As introductions and greetings were made, and Mr. Laury took a seat next to Mr. Hunter, Kate couldn’t help noting the difference between the two men. In contrast to Mr. Hunter’s large frame and confident bearing, Mr. Laury looked rather like a frightened schoolboy.
Lady Thurston took her own seat and gave Kate a pointed look. “Mr. Laury has just returned from an extended stay in Stockholm. He was fortunate enough to attend one of Baroness Cederström’s salons.”
“Oh.” Kate scooted forward in her chair. That put her mother’s maneuverings in a whole new light. Christina Cederström was an artist and composer who had managed to obtain considerable recognition for her work. “I’m a great admirer of hers. I should dearly love to attend one of her salons. What was it like?”
Mr. Laury cleared his throat, twice. “Quite nice. Quite nice.”
“I imagine it was.” She imagined “nice” was a pitiful understatement. The woman was an honorary member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Arts and the Académie des Beaux-Arts in France. While such success was not entirely unheard of, neither was it commonplace. Certainly not for a woman. In Kate’s opinion, meeting the baroness would be the experience of a lifetime. “Were any of her musical pieces played?”
“Yes.” He adjusted his spectacles and wiped away a bead of sweat on his forehead. “Yes, indeed. Tal-talented woman. Mite warm in here, isn’t it?”
She gave him an encouraging smile. “A bit. Which of her pieces, Mr. Laury?”
His face took on a bright red hue. “‘Välkommen, o måne, min åldrige vän’, I believe.”
“The most well known of her works.” Kate wondered if disappointment had something to do with Mr. Laury’s obvious discomfort with the topic. She tried for a tone of understanding. “I suppose you were hoping for something new from her?”
“Er, indeed…indeed.”
Lady Thurston blinked at Mr. Laury, as if surprised by his reticence. “Well, no doubt the others in attendance—”
“Ah, Martin’s arrived,” he cut in, suddenly jumping to his feet. “Must say hello. Do excuse.”
Lady Thurston smiled in a strained manner as the young man made a dash for the door. “Such a nice young gentleman.”
“I’m sure he’s delightful,” Kate returned, simply because it was expected of her. Just as it was expected of her not to comment on either the private wink Mr. Hunter gave her over the rim of his cup, nor the suspicious eye he turned on Mr. Laury as the young man left th
e room.
Hunter hadn’t been suspicious of Mr. Laury. He’d been curious, mildly amused, and a little perplexed. Arms folded, he leaned back against the wall in Mr. Laury’s bedchamber, and watched as the young man scribbled something at his writing desk. “Do you intend to spend the whole of the house party hiding in your chambers? Because you won’t be of much use to us, this way.”
Mr. Laury glanced up from his papers and Hunter imagined, with some amusement, what Kate’s reaction might have been had she been present to see that the nervous young man present in the parlor only an hour ago had vanished. In his place sat a confident young agent from the War Department. One who gave a wry smile and wink. “The young ladies do tie my tongue in knots something dreadful.”
Hunter chuckled at that. He’d never worked with Mr. Laury directly, but he knew the man to be perfectly capable of charming a young lady, if it was to his benefit. “I thought you had a mission to see to in London before taking over the investigation here.”
“I’m not taking over this investigation. There’s another man tasked with that responsibility. He’s expected shortly.”
Hunter straightened from the wall. “A third agent wasn’t mentioned.”
“My involvement wasn’t decided upon until the last minute.” Mr. Laury set his pen aside. “This surprises you?”
“No.” Missions weren’t static, they required constant re-evaluation of strategy and dispersal of resources. Still, it would have been nice to have been informed of Mr. Laury’s possible involvement. “I’m just irritated. If you’re not here to help with the investigation, why have you come?”
Mr. Laury sat back in his chair. “I am to fill the role of ‘transitional agent,’ as William put it. If the investigation moves beyond the house party, it becomes my responsibility.”
“Why?”
“I imagine William has other plans for you and whoever William has put in charge—who, by the way, is not to know of my connection to this mission, under any circumstances.” Mr. Laury shrugged a shoulder at Hunter’s raised brows. “William said you’d understand once the agent arrived.”
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