It was amazing what a man would do for a loaf of bread and a little dignity.
Despite their difference of opinion on that particular matter, Hunter genuinely liked and respected Whit. For a proud, arrogant, honorable and exacting peer of the realm, Whit displayed a remarkable amount of good humor. Which was why, after the last servant left, Hunter had no qualms about beginning the conversation with a smirk and an accusation.
“You brought your wife.”
Whit glanced at him and tossed a small bag on the four-poster bed. “Not bringing her would have appeared suspicious.”
“Does she know why you’re here?”
“No, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she suspected there was more to this trip than an outing to the coast.”
The smirk grew. “She brought herself, didn’t she?”
“It’s my carriage, isn’t it?” Whit asked by way of deflecting the question.
Hunter leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “I’m surprised at you. Allowing your wife to come, allowing your sister to stay. William assumed you’d lock Kate away at Haldon if you thought she might be in any danger. I’m amazed he told you of this mission, let alone put you in charge of it.”
He was pleased as well. Whit wasn’t going to insist Hunter remain completely removed from the investigation.
Whit twisted his lips in disgust. “He wasn’t going to, the bastard. But he received word while he was at Haldon that the agent he had picked for the job came down with the ague. My being chosen as a replacement was a matter of expediency.”
“Doesn’t explain why you’ve not locked up your sister.”
“If I thought Kate was in danger, I would lock her up.” Whit shrugged. “Lord Martin poses no real threat. To begin with, William tells me we’re not entirely certain he’s bringing over anything more nefarious than brandy. In addition, a man doesn’t seek to impress the object of his affections by dragging her into a smuggling plot, does he? Your presence here—and in all probability, mine as well—is merely precautionary.”
Hunter rubbed the back of his hand across his jaw. No wonder William had ordered Mr. Laury’s role as an agent be kept secret. Added manpower would not suggest to Whit a mission of limited danger. “You think so?”
“There’s no telling how many gentlemen in the ton have their fingers dipped into a smuggling operation here or there. Am I to keep Kate away from all of them?”
A finger dipped in, was not the same as being the sole financier, Hunter thought, and most smuggling operations did not include the possibility of treason, but he wisely let Whit keep his illusions. He didn’t want Kate to leave, after all. He was confident he could keep her safe, and he wasn’t yet ready for the mission to be over. “It’ll be enough for me if you were to simply keep an eye on her from time to time while we’re here. I’d like a chance to spend some time with Lord Martin.”
Whit’s eyebrows winged up. “You’re willing to trade missions for a day? Kate’s company for Lord Martin’s?”
“A morning here and there,” Hunter replied with a shrug. “A few hours in the afternoon. I can’t spend every waking moment with your sister. People will talk.” He didn’t mind the usual amount of gossip that happened with any courtship taking place at a house party, but he’d just as soon avoid an outright scandal.
Whit nodded in acknowledgment of the point. “I’ll watch her tomorrow. Have you spent much time with Martin in the past?”
“A little at dinners and balls, why?”
“Never a full day?”
“Never had the opportunity, or the desire. He’s a little irritating. Again, why?”
“No reason,” Whit was quick to assure him. “Let me tell you what I learned in London.”
Whit hadn’t learned a damn thing in London, a bit of news Hunter was still mulling over in the library a half hour later while Whit and Mirabelle finished settling themselves in their room.
It was unfortunate—though hardly unusual—that a fellow agent had wasted his time chasing down a false lead. But it was a relief to know they wouldn’t be capturing Lord Martin the next day, putting an end to one of the finest excuses he’d ever come across to spend a protracted amount of time with a lady.
It also would have come as a disappointment to Kate. She was expecting an adventure, and he meant to give her one. He’d start, he decided, by instructing her to search certain portions of the house—now that he’d searched the whole of it and determined there was no danger. And he thought she might like to help organize the plan of capture—once they figured out where Lord Martin was planning to bring in and hide his smuggled goods. Probably, she would enjoy—
The sound of someone playing the piano floated in on the air. No, not just someone, he corrected, as he headed for the door. It was Kate. No one else could play like that. No one else could even come close. Others played well, or very well, or even splendidly. Kate’s talent transcended those descriptions. It was nothing short of sublime.
He followed the sound to the music room and quietly stood in the doorway to listen.
Here was the final reason he would marry Lady Kate Cole—her unparalleled talent for music. If Kate’s physical beauty offered a man secular delight, her art offered a glimpse of paradise. And what man wouldn’t wish to spend the rest of his life watching and listening to the beautiful Lady Kate Cole coax the divine from a piano?
Lady Kate Hunter, he corrected and, not for the first time, made a mental note to have the instrument of her choice installed in every estate, manor, cottage and town house he owned.
Kate let her fingers rush along the keys as the sound and feel of the sonata rushed about the room.
Here, just as when she danced, she was graceful—her mind and body in accord. The music in her mind blended seamlessly with the music she created with her fingers. She never missed a note, a beat, a rest. There was no accent too nuanced, no emotion too elusive that she couldn’t tease it from the keys. For her, playing the piano was as simple as speaking, as natural as laughter, and as necessary as air.
She slowed her fingers and let the deceptively light melody trip along while she built an underlying current of something stronger in the harmony. It simmered and gathered and then released as the two halves were joined for a dramatic finale.
She sighed happily as the final notes died away. What should she play next? Something darker? Something more complicated? Something—
A tickle crept along her spine and she spun on the bench to find Hunter leaning against the doorframe, watching her. His stance was relaxed, but there was such an intensity to his gaze as he studied her that the tickle turned into a warm shiver, and she found it impossible to turn away.
Hunter broke the spell, stepping into the room, and pushing the door partially closed behind him. “That was exquisite, Kate.”
She felt herself blush, both from the compliment and from the look that had passed between them. “Thank you.”
“Your own work?” he asked easily.
She nodded and willed herself to match his light tone. “Evie’s seventeenth birthday present.”
“That would have made you what,” he inquired, reaching her, “thirteen years of age?”
“I suppose, yes.”
“Incredible,” he murmured. “She must have been thrilled.”
“Oh, yes, until she learned I had to write it after spending all my pin money on sweets and hair ribbons.”
Hunter laughed and leaned a hip against the piano. “Whit tells me you play other instruments as well.”
“A few, but my preference is for string instruments.” She tapped a key idly. “This one in particular.”
“The piano is a string instrument?”
“Yes, didn’t you know?” When he shook his head, she rose and stepped around him to point inside the piano’s case. “You see? The keys move the hammers, which strike the strings, hence a string instrument.”
He peeked inside. “So it is.”
“You didn’t have a piano abo
ut as a child, I presume?” When he merely raised his brows, she shrugged and lowered the prop holding the lid open. “Children are inexorably drawn to anything with a lid. You can’t keep them from trying to look inside.”
“Curiosity is a powerful motivator. It’s how we learn.”
She traced the wood grain of the piano case with her fingers. “It’s also how we end up”—kissing handsome pirates in sitting rooms—“with dead grasshoppers.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Nothing.” She glanced up at him. He was standing very close. She could smell his soap, and she wondered if he would once again taste like spearmint. Her eyes shot back down to the wood. “Curiosity isn’t always beneficial.”
“Shall we put that to the test?”
She found it impossible to meet his gaze. “And how might we do that?”
He didn’t answer. He simply stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
Hunter was careful with the kiss. It wasn’t a test, as it had been in the sitting room, nor was it an attempt to seduce. He wanted to tempt and entice. He wanted to reassure her that it was safe to give in to curiosity…as long as she was with him.
He teased his lips over hers in a playful game of attack and retreat. Curiosity and security. Adventure and protection. It was a fine line to walk with greed chasing so closely behind, demanding he take more, but it was more easily done than he might have envisioned before it began. Easier because the kiss wasn’t for him. It was for her.
It just happened that kissing Kate for Kate suited both his pleasure and his purpose.
Lure her closer, closer still. That was the plan.
To that end, he wrapped his arms tighter and pressed the length of her body against his. Not too tight, he reminded himself, not too close. It was important to let her think she could get away. It was equally important to make certain she didn’t want to.
To that end, he took the kiss deeper, letting his mouth settle over hers and gently teasing her lips apart so he could fully taste her, and she him. She gasped when his tongue slid inside the warmth of her mouth, then moaned and leaned forward seeking out more.
He wanted to give her more. Suddenly, he ached to take everything. Each sigh of breath, every brush of her lips and small movement of her hands stole away bits and pieces of his control, making it increasingly difficult to remember who and what the kiss was about.
It was tempting to forget while the sight and smell and feel of her all but drowned his senses. It would be an easy thing to let his purpose and plans slide away just long enough for lust to gain the upper hand. He could have her undressed in minutes, panting and moaning his name in seconds, and bent over the piano bench—
Bloody hell. His control, he realized, was nearly at an end.
He softened the kiss in stages, until he was once again holding her loosely and teasing his lips across hers. He kept them that way for several long minutes in an effort to ease her out of the kiss, and not, he assured himself, because he was finding it difficult to let her go.
Finally, when her breath evened and his heart didn’t feel as if it might pound its way out of his chest, he pulled away.
“Do you see?” he whispered, taking her face in his hands. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“I’m not at all certain of that.” She licked her lips and eyed him warily, which he didn’t mind, and a little suspiciously, which wouldn’t do.
“Well, if you require more convincing…” He bent his head toward her slowly, and grinned as she danced out of his reach on a laugh.
“I believe I’ve had enough convincing for one day, thank you.”
He took a step toward her. “Oh, I don’t know…”
She skipped out of reach again, moving around to the back of the piano. They eyed each other over the wood. He grinned wolfishly. Her light blue eyes sparkled with laughter.
Better, he thought, much better than the suspicion. He would do well to remember she was skilled at games of strategy.
As if to illustrate the point, she feinted left, then dodged right, leading him around the piano until their positions had switched. Then she spun around and bolted for the exit behind her, knowing full well he’d not have time to come around the piano before she reached the door.
She stopped at the threshold to turn about and give him one very smug smile as she stepped backward out the door. “Good day, Mr. Hunter.”
And then she was gone.
Hunter stood alone in the room, his own self-satisfied smile firmly in place. He hadn’t intended to catch her. Not this time. This was one game of strategy he was going to win.
Eleven
It was with some disappointment that Kate discovered the following morning that Hunter had gone into town with Lord Martin and several other gentlemen. It was so disappointing, in fact, that she spent the first hour after breakfast sitting on the veranda moping a little.
If she had known Hunter was to leave that morning, she wouldn’t have taken dinner in her room the previous night. Probably, she shouldn’t have taken dinner in her room last night no matter Mr. Hunter’s whereabouts today. But the seating arrangements in the dining room would have put Lord Martin on her right, Miss Willory on her left, and Mrs. Keenes directly across the table. One of them she could have handled, two she would have suffered through for the chance to eat the very fine food and speak with Hunter after the meal, but all three at once was more than anyone should have to bear. And because she had expected to see him at breakfast the next day, and because it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, she’d chosen to spend the evening in her room where she’d spent the majority of her time dwelling on the kiss she and Hunter had shared in the music room. Strangely, the longer she dwelled on it, the more she suspected something had been a bit…off. Which was another reason she felt a little mopey.
Oh, it had been a lovely kiss, without question. She’d experienced the same building excitement she’d felt the first time he’d kissed her in the sitting room, the same dizzying loss of breath, the same restless heat. But the memory of that wasn’t enough to keep at bay the misgiving that something had been amiss with, or perhaps missing from, both kisses.
If she hadn’t known better, she would have said that something was Hunter. But that didn’t make any sense at all. Obviously, the man had been there. He’d just seemed more there the second time they’d kissed in the sitting room—when he’d seized her and held on.
It was very confusing. And she wasn’t going to be able to figure through the mystery without spending more time in Hunter’s company. Probably it would help if he kissed her again as well.
She huffed out an irritated breath, turned her face into the soft breeze, and then, because she wasn’t fond of moping, made an effort to turn her thoughts toward something other than Hunter and his kisses. She looked over the pages of notes she’d brought out with her. They were a detailed description of what she was attempting to accomplish by composing a symphony, written in an effort to inspire completion of the work. That had been weeks ago, and they’d yet to inspire a single note. She set the pages aside.
Perhaps she should go for a ride. Maybe she should explore the house and grounds. Maybe she could convince Mirabelle to explore the house and grounds with her.
“Good morning, Kate.”
Kate turned at the sound of Mirabelle’s voice.
Perfect.
Mirabelle took a seat next to her on the bench, brushed at her apple green skirts and sighed happily. “What shall we be doing today?”
Again, perfect. “What would you like to do?”
“Whatever Lord Brentworth has planned for the ladies.”
“You might want to reconsider that,” Kate told her, “unless you wish to spend the day doing absolutely nothing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Lord Brentworth isn’t in the habit of arranging diversions for the ladies in residence.”
Mirabelle blinked. “None at all?”
“At all,” Kate confirmed, b
efore continuing on in what she hoped was an offhanded manner. “Though I did hear Mrs. Hatcher suggest needlework in the parlor this morning.”
“Needlework,” Mirabelle repeated, making a face. “Why would anyone want to do needlework at a house party? One can do it just as well at home.”
“Or just as poorly, as we do.” Kate shifted to face her friend. “We can entertain ourselves well enough. Why don’t we take a tour of the house and grounds?”
“I’ve already had a tour,” Mirabelle told her. “Whit and I were given one after we arrived.”
“Yes, Mother and I were as well.” Kate gave an impatient wave of her hand. “But that was a guest’s tour. Much too abbreviated.”
Mirabelle narrowed her eyes. “You want to go snooping.”
“I want to go exploring,” Kate corrected. “We needn’t rummage through anyone’s bureau.”
“I don’t know that Lord Brentworth would appreciate the distinction.”
“If Lord Brentworth doesn’t care for how we entertain ourselves, he can give us something else to do.”
“Lack of distraction is not a justification for objectionable behavior.” Mirabelle threw a glance at the house. “If your mother caught wind…”
Kate grinned impishly. “If mother caught wind, she’d tsk at us, and then demand to know if we found anything of interest.”
“That’s true.” Mirabelle turned back to look at her. “I’m surprised you’ve not explored already.”
“Traversing unfamiliar terrain really isn’t something I ought to do alone.”
“It’s a house, not a mountain,” Mirabelle drawled.
“There are the grounds as well.”
Mirabelle winced. “I see your point. Why haven’t you taken Lizzy?”
“Because should anyone happen upon you and I while we’re exploring—”
“You mean if we’re caught snooping.”
“Oh, very well,” Kate conceded with a roll of her eyes. “If we’re caught, very little is likely to be made of our—”
“Snooping.”
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