Lord Borin's Secret Love

by Regina Scott

  Alex grimaced. “This damnable spying affair.”

  Sir Richard nodded. “You appear to be no closer to solving the mystery of your pursuers than when we first met. I assume it has something to do with your connection to Lord Hastings.”

  “Possibly,” Alex replied. “At the moment, however, I wish I had never laid eyes on the chap. I want this to end.”

  “I believe you, my boy. But someone doesn’t. And until we know who, I cannot be comfortable with your engagement to my niece.”

  Alex felt his shoulders sag. “You are right, of course. Yet I fear the damage to her reputation by her recent escapades. And, selfishly, I do not wish to wait to call her my own. Can you not trust me to extricate myself from this matter honorably?”

  Sir Richard eyed him, and Alex held his breath. When he thought surely he had lost, the man struck his hands on the arms of the leather upholstered chair.

  “Very well,” he proclaimed. “We will leave it to Katherine. If she’ll have you, you have my blessing.”

  Alex blew out a breath, springing forward to pump the man’s hand as he rose. “Thank you, Sir Richard. I promise you I will make her happy.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt,” Sir Richard replied with a smile. “Go on, now. Have Bixby fetch her for you. I will leave you two alone. If things go as you plan, I hope you will stay to celebrate.”

  Alex readily agreed, accompanying Sir Richard to the door. He thought he heard a wild shuffling as they approached, but it could have been the pounding of his pulse.

  Bixby was in place at the foot of the stairs as Sir Richard opened the door and, to Alex’s delight, Katherine was with him. He noted she looked unreasonably pale, but he was too pleased to see her to wonder at the reason. Sir Richard gave him an encouraging wink before crossing to his niece.

  “How fortunate to find you here, Katherine. Lord Borin has something he wishes to say to you. I’ve given him permission to meet you in the library.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

  As she moved forward, Alex couldn’t help noticing her reticence. She walked as if she were going to her execution. His heart plummeted once more. Had he misunderstood her last night? Did she not wish him to offer? It couldn’t be that she was afraid of the spy after all, not his courageous Katherine. Bemused, he bowed her before him into the library and shut the door behind them.

  “Before you start,” she said, head high, “you need to know that I refuse. I will not marry you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Katherine watched as Alex paled. She waited for a sign of the relief she knew he must feel at her announcement. Instead of thanking her for relieving him of his duty, however, he stayed by the door, holding himself still.

  “I apologize, of course,” he said slowly, “if I have offended you by my offer. But I thought you understood my intentions last night.”

  “As did I,” she assured him. She was about to say more, but she heard a faint thump from the door. He must have heard it too for he turned and eyed the panel with a curious frown. She did not have to wonder at the noise. This was one conversation she intended to keep private. “Excuse me a moment,” she told him.

  He moved out of her way as she approached the door. She yanked it open. Eric tumbled to the floor, and Bixby had to grab Constance’s arm to prevent her from doing likewise. Katherine put her hands on her hips.

  “Upstairs,” she ordered, “all of you. Now. I will tell you what you need to know later.”

  Eric scrambled to his feet, face as red as her stepsister’s. Bixby was more sanguine.

  “Come on you lot,” he urged. “Best thing to do when you’re caught is beat a hasty retreat.”

  “I thought it was to bluff it out,” Eric protested.

  “Bit late for that,” Alex advised him with a smile.

  Eric grimaced.

  “We do beg your pardon, my lord,” Constance said prettily as Bixby shooed them toward the stairs. Katherine leaned out the door to watch them climb. She started to shut the door, then spied another head peering from the dining room.

  “Uncle,” she warned. With a sheepish grin, he ducked back out of sight.

  She snapped shut the library door with a frustrated sigh.

  “An enterprising group,” Alex quipped as she turned to face him.

  “Most assuredly,” she replied. “Now, where were we?”

  He closed the distance between them. “I believe we were right about here.” His arms slipped around her as his mouth claimed hers.

  Oh, she should protest, push him away. She wanted no marriage not based on love. But the touch of his lips was so sweet, so delicious, she could not seem to stop herself from taking more. She let herself glory in the feel of him one last time, how his mouth moved against hers, how his hands caressed her back, how his strong body made her feel protected, cherished. She let the kiss go on as long as he liked. It would be over all too soon, she feared.

  At last he raised his head. Passion danced in his eyes and with it, determination. “Miss Collins,” he murmured, “will you not reconsider my offer?”

  He could not know how temped she was to do just that. Why not simply give in and spend her life with this wonderful man? Yet would it be a life? Lust, however hot, must cool eventually. Without love, what else was there on which to build a strong union? She would stand for nothing less.

  “I cannot, in good conscience,” she replied, moving purposely out of his arms. “I thank you for wanting to protect my reputation, my lord, but I cannot marry you simply as a duty.”

  He frowned. “Duty? Is that what you feel when you kiss me?”

  She felt herself color. “No, certainly not! But excellent kisses a marriage do not make.”

  “I quite agree. A marriage should be based on mutual compatibility, likeness of mind, commonality of goals.”

  “Not love?” There, she’d said it, even if it was only in a rather pathetic little squeak.

  He pulled her back against him. “Of course love. Oh, I grant you any number of ton marriages lack that. I will also grant you I was rather naive in that area. Until I met you.”

  Katherine gazed up at him. His smile was tender, and his eyes glowed with an emotion she was afraid to name. “Oh, Alex, if only I could believe you.”

  He stroked the hair at her temple. “Why can’t you believe me, my heart? I tell you I love you, and I wish to marry you. Why is that so impossible to believe?”

  “We have not known each other long,” Katherine demurred. She caught herself toying with the gold filigree button on his waistcoat and forced her hand down. What was this? She wasn’t some dewy-eyed debutante. She forced herself to look up at him, to name the fear that held her. “You don’t really know me.”

  His smile deepened. “Don’t I? You are intelligent, courageous, and true. Who wouldn’t love you?”

  Her heart constricted. “A great many people. You name only my positive traits, my lord.”

  “They say love is blind,” he teased. “I find myself so besotted that I cannot see the many faults you no doubt think you have.”

  That was exactly what she feared. Her throat was so tight she wondered that she could still speak. “Then allow me to list them for you. I am an arrogant, headstrong, managing female.”

  He shrugged. “I have been known to be arrogant and headstrong myself. Look at this situation with the spy.”

  “Yes, look at that,” she urged. “I believe you can love me because you think I will bring excitement to your life. Day-to-day living is far less romantic, I fear. You would tire of me far too quickly.”

  “Nonsense,” he averred. “I have dealt with that issue. It isn’t espionage I seek, Katherine, it’s you.”

  “It cannot be.” She pulled away again. Each time it grew more difficult. “Could you honestly say that you could love a managing woman?”

  “Certainly. So long as she did not attempt to manage me.”

  Katherine closed her eyes in desperation. “But I did, Alex. And I fear I would do it a
gain. I cannot seem to stop myself.”

  “You tried to interest me in your stepsister. How is that so very bad?”

  If only he knew. “You must believe me,” she replied. “You may be followed by spies, but I have my own demons to keep me company. I would never suit you, Alex.”

  “I won’t believe that,” he declared. “Your uncle threatened to make me deal with my pursuers first before requesting your hand, and I refused because I could not stand the notion of waiting to hear you accept. Don’t hold me off, Katherine. I love you.”

  “Do you?” Fury rose from deep inside her. “Do you really? Very well, my lord. I will give you an opportunity to prove it. Come with me.”

  She seized his hand and tugged him to the door, throwing it open once more. Sir Richard barely managed to get out of her way in time. His face was red as he scrambled into the entry.

  “Is nothing sacred in this house?” Alex asked as she ignored her floundering uncle and plowed for the stairs.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Katherine clipped.

  He did not resist her as she led him up to the attic. She did not dare look at his face. He thought she was so wonderful; he saw only what she had let him see. Time enough that he saw her as she really was. She marched up to the door of her War Office and threw it open.

  “There!” she proclaimed, dropping his hand to gesture at the walls. “There is the real Katherine Collins, a woman so cold hearted that she could determine her prey and not rest until she had captured it. Look at this and tell me you love me!”

  Alex stared at the walls. At first all he saw were pieces of paper tacked to plaster. She had opened the door so quickly that they still fluttered with the breeze, like so many birds attempting to take wing. He had no idea what she was trying to show him, but she was so determined that he had no choice but to wander closer. As he did so, his life materialized in minute detail.

  He moved from note to note as his emotions moved from surprise to admiration to annoyance. She knew when he rose, what he ate for breakfast, when he left the house, what he did, with whom he did it, and when he returned home. She knew he had a secret passion for sweetmeats and found the color purple erotic. She had the name of his valet, his tailor, his friends, and his mistress. The last brought him up short, but the note below it made him suck in a breath.

  “’Sent ruby to Miss Montgomery‘?” he read. Turning, he stared at Katherine. “You had the temerity to turn out my mistress?”

  She shrugged, but the color in her cheeks belied her calm. “It was necessary. You would never have made an offer if she was still available to you.”

  Comprehension dawned and with it revulsion so strong it burned his gut. “You planned this. You played on my emotions to elicit an offer of marriage.”

  “Guilty,” she said, making his fists ball at her breezy reply.

  He could not seem to grasp the enormity of the offense. Glancing from one piece of paper to another, he shook his head. “Was your stepsister’s fortune a humdrum? Was Lord Templeman’s bravura part of the game? By God, it was a neat trap.”

  “And you nearly fell into it,” she replied. “You see why I say you cannot love me, my lord?”

  Blood roared in his ears. “Love you? Madam, I never even knew you. The woman I fell in love with was a fiction.”

  Her smile was tight. “Then you won’t mind taking yourself off?”

  “Nothing could induce me to stay.” He brushed past her, the brief touch raising the bile in his throat. He stormed down the stairs, snatched his hat off the hall table, and slammed the door behind him.

  “Home,” he barked to his startled coachman. He leaped up into the carriage and threw the lap robes out of the way. To think he had been so anxious to make his case this morning that he had rung for his carriage rather than walk.

  For what? To be made a fool, to have his heart ripped from his chest and trampled upon with wild glee. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to pretend he’d never met her. He wanted to erase the memory of her face from his mind and her touch from his body. Hastings was right: He would never have made an agent. He was entirely too dim-witted, hot-tempered, and puffed up with his own consequence. Small wonder the man had refused him. Small wonder Katherine had refused him.

  The sweet light of logic pierced his dark thoughts.

  Why had she refused him? She had had him, heart in hand, ready to lay it at her feet at but a word from her. After all that work, why refuse?

  He took a deep breath and forced his emotions to calm. Something wasn’t right. Was he still being manipulated? Why had she balked with the prize in hand? She had schemed and planned to trap him. Could it be that her courage had failed in the end?

  No, not her courage. He had called her courageous and even this revelation could not change that image. Miss Collins hadn’t a cowardly bone in her body. Even if she wasn’t the woman he thought, her actions spoke for themselves in that regard. She had trailed spies and confronted men twice her size. So if it wasn’t fear that motivated her, then what?

  Could it be that her conscience had pricked her? If she were as wicked as he’d painted her, it seemed odd for her to suddenly realize her guilt. Perhaps she was worried how he would react if he learned the truth, but if she’d simply agreed to his proposal he would have been honor-bound to wed her, deceitful chit or not. She had hooked one of the biggest trout in the stream and deliberately set it free. Was all this some demented game?

  No, that he could not believe. The affection, the genuine love he’d felt among the Collins family could not have been faked. Sir Richard’s passion for his country could not be false. Eric and Constance truly cared for one another and the others in their family. Katherine’s passion for her music was equally fervent, as was her ceaseless devotion to her stepsister, brother, and uncle. A woman who loved and lived like that could not be a scheming temptress.

  What then? Had she truly schemed only to find a husband for Constance? Her ways were unconventional, but her purpose was sound. Her activities were not much different from what he hoped to accomplish with Lord Hastings. And if Templeman’s greed was no fabrication, she had greater need. Was the real Katherine so different from the woman he had imagined?

  He shook his head. He’d been a fool. Instead of railing at her, he should have delved more deeply into what she was trying to say. She had let him believe her a schemer when in truth she was simply far more skilled at management than he could ever be. And she didn’t think that trait very lovable. That was what she meant by the demons that hounded her: she doubted her worth. He was not fool enough to think his love would be the one thing to turn that tide, but at least he could tell her how wrong she was. Her ability to plan and carry out her campaign was exactly the trait so often missing in himself. She was clever, courageous, and spirited, exactly the kind of person he wished to become. She wasn’t afraid to work, if through that work she could help the people she loved. Together, they might make the perfect marriage.

  He almost had the carriage turn around, but somehow he didn’t think she was ready to hear words of love from him just yet. The pain would be too fresh. He would give her a day to calm and then renew his suit.

  Miss Templeman might be a gem, but Katherine Collins was a diamond of the first water, and he refused to let her slip through his fingers because of his misplaced pride and her stubborn heart.

  He was actually feeling rather hopeful when he entered his townhouse. The hope changed to something else when he learned that Davis Laughton was waiting for him. Handing his hat to his butler, he hurried to the library.

  Laughton had been sitting in one of the chairs, but he rose as Alex entered. With his brown hair and eyes and slender build, Laughton looked more like an Oxford scholar than the cream of Lord Hastings’ staff as Alex knew him to be. His gaze this morning was cool, and Alex felt his gut clench anew.

  “Good afternoon, Lord Borin,” he said politely. “Lord Hastings would like a moment of your time. I have been asked to escort you to the War O
ffice. Immediately.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Katherine came down the stairs more slowly in Alex’s wake. It was done. She had been noble and let him see her true self. She was not surprised that he had rejected her. She was only surprised it hurt so much.

  Constance and Eric were peering out the withdrawing room door. It was a guess as to whose eyes were wider.

  “You showed him the War Office,” Eric guessed.

  “The what?” Constance asked.

  “The War Office,” Katherine told her, amazed she could be so calm. “It is across from the schoolroom. We studied Lord Borin quite thoroughly before presenting him to you. We had his entire life neatly cataloged on the walls. We listed his likes, dislikes, strengths, and weaknesses. And now he knows ours. I thought it was only fair.”

  Eric grimaced. “Was he awfully mad?”

  “Tremendously,” Katherine replied, trying not to remember the hurt and anger on his face. “We shall not hear from him again unless it is through his solicitor calling us before the magistrates.”

  Eric paled as Constance gasped. “The magistrates? Surely you did nothing criminal.”

  “Perhaps not,” Katherine allowed, “although I would think there might be some prohibition against trapping a man into marriage for material gain.”

  “But that’s not what you did,” Constance protested. “He wanted to marry you. You wanted to marry him. You love him.”

  “That is immaterial,” Katherine snapped. “I am a managing female. Lord Borin should be thankful to be rid of me.”

  “You are a skilled administrator,” Sir Richard corrected, coming up the stairs. “And Borin would be lucky to have you beside him, as would any fellow.”

  Katherine raised her head, hoping he would not see the pain that must be blazing from her eyes. “A shame he did not see fit to agree with you, Uncle.”