Anne fidgeted in her chair and leaned toward him, her eyes opened wide. “Is it true you plan to marry an American?”
“Indeed it is, Lady Anne. Why were you not at Ravenleigh’s ball? I would have introduced you to the lovely lady.”
“I wasn’t feeling well,” she replied meekly.
Richard narrowed his eyes. “She thinks I am being unfair to insist she marry a man of rank. She has decided to hide away this Season, which means I’ll have to select a husband for her without knowing if she favors him.”
“You wouldn’t!” she snapped.
“What choice do you give me?”
“Why would you not wish to marry a peer?” Farthingham asked.
She turned her attention back to him. “I believe I’ve fallen in love. It’s truly a wondrous thing. My world is brightened by his presence, and he is a good man, but he is not a peer, and Richard disapproves.”
“As well he should, my sweet.”
“Oh!” She released a tiny shriek. “I thought you, at least, would be on my side.”
“It is not a matter of taking sides, Lady Anne. One simply does not marry beneath one’s standing.”
Her mouth dropped open. “And what of you, marrying an American? Richard would argue that you’re marrying beneath your standing. He can barely tolerate Americans.”
“Indeed? It appeared to me that he was tolerating Kitty rather well when he waltzed with her at Ravenleigh’s.”
Anne glared at Richard. “You’ve met her, and you said nothing?”
“Since we left Drummond Manor you’ve acted as though I do not exist,” he reminded her. “You’ve not spoken one word to me. I assumed you had no desire to talk with me, and I had no wish to make you unhappy by forcing you to endure my conversation.”
“He’s quite right, my dear,” his mother said. “You’ve been most unpleasant in a pleasant sort of way. So let’s move on to more pressing matters. Farthingham, tell me all about your lady.”
“With pleasure, Your Grace. Kitty is a delight. Her father made his fortune in railroads and banking and other wise investments. Her mother is a lady of the highest regard…”
As Farthingham continued on, touting Kitty’s illustrious pedigree, Richard was amazed by how differently two men could view the same woman. Ask him his opinion of her, and he would have painted a portrait of a woman who burned with passion, who believed in loyalty. A woman who sneaked out at dawn to enjoy the sunrise. A woman who swam nude in the waters of the world. A woman who had given him brief memories and left him the better for them. A woman he would forever remember, even if he never set eyes on her again. A woman with a smile that took his breath, haunted eyes that made him want to serve as her protector, and a strong enough will to stand firm against him.
His sister’s tart voice snapped him out of his reverie. He turned his attention to her, certain her question had been directed at him, but unsure as to what she’d been asking. “Pardon?”
“I asked if you agree with Farthingham. Is she beautiful?”
“Beautiful?” He thought of her flaming red hair touched by the sun, the smattering of light freckles across her cheeks and nose revealed by the arriving dawn, the sea-green shade of her eyes, the fine arch of her eyebrows, the way her lashes landed on her high cheekbones as she closed her eyes to receive his kiss.
“I consider her to be the loveliest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.”
“Oh, I would so love to meet her,” Anne lamented. “I shall definitely plan to attend the next ball. Which one are you going to, Farthingham?”
“Haven’t a clue, my sweet. Whichever one Kitty decides is the one she wants to attend. However, I am equally anxious for you to make her acquaintance. Which is the very reason that I popped by this morning. I have plans to join Kitty for a bit of lawn tennis this afternoon. I thought you and your brother might care to join us.”
Anne’s face lit up. “Splendid. Oh, Richard, do say yes.”
“Yes,” he responded without hesitation, unable to believe his good fortune.
Anne smiled at him as she hadn’t in days. He had an uneasy feeling that Miss Robertson wouldn’t.
Chapter 6
Kitty was restless, desperate to prowl. She felt as though she needed to crawl out of her skin and just…do something!
Using her racket, she smashed the ball against the side of the house.
Bam!
She needed an ocean in which to swim—
Bam!
—a meadow to run through—
Bam!
—a mountain to climb.
Bam!
Something physical that required a great deal of exertion.
Frustrated by her limitations, she snatched the ball as it bounced toward her. Her lawn tennis dress with its trimmed skirt restricted her movements—which she recognized as a good thing. Otherwise, she might be bounding all over the court like a harridan. Right then she longed for something that would tax her strength, leave her weak and gasping for breath…not unlike how she gasped after Weddington kissed her.
She still couldn’t believe that he’d had the audacity to come to call. To ask her to cast Farthingham aside like so much rubbish. She didn’t know what she’d do if he ever decided to tell Farthingham about the wanton behavior she’d displayed at the seaside. Little wonder Weddington thought so little of her as to believe she could be easily swayed into giving up the man she loved for a man she desired.
Turning, she leaned against the wall, her knees suddenly weak. She didn’t want to desire Weddington, didn’t want to think of him at all. Yet every time she closed her eyes, he filled her vision. Every moment when she had nothing to occupy her thoughts, he taunted her with promises. Even now she thought of him wrapping his arms around her and pressing her close—the very reason she wanted to crawl out of her skin. So she’d no longer be tempted with the memories of his touch.
Voices, a deep timbre mingling with a softer cadence, alerted her to the arrival of Farthingham, who’d obviously brought others with him. She often thought of him as a traveling party, bringing guests and festivities wherever he went.
Kitty headed round to the back of the house, where the voices were originating. Beyond the gardens were the facilities for playing lawn tennis. With an audience, perhaps she’d have more luck at getting Farthingham to at least give her a worthy match.
She turned the corner and froze. The voices had keyed her in to that fact that he wasn’t alone. Still, she hadn’t expected to come face-to-face with Weddington.
Seeing him again, standing beside Farthingham, was like comparing night to day. Farthingham of the fair features and the easy smile. Farthingham who thought all of life was a game to be enjoyed. Who made her laugh and teased her when she was melancholy. Dear, sweet Farthingham, who made her feel safe.
Weddington, on the other hand, was as dark as her fears. If eyes were the windows to the soul, the obsidian depths of his served as frightening barriers. They hinted at an overpowering darkness she didn’t wish to uncover. He possessed a sensuality that lured her when she didn’t wish to be tempted, an attraction that she didn’t want to acknowledge.
He was not for her and she was not for him. She knew that as surely as she knew her name.
Nervously, she patted her hair beneath her hat, fearful that the brim was not wide enough to shade her eyes, to hide all the raw emotions she was feeling.
“I brought you some worthy competition, my sweet,” Farthingham said, beaming as he took her gloved hand and bussed a quick kiss on her cheek. “You remember Weddington from Ravenleigh’s ball?”
Nodding, she forced her lips to form a smile. “Yes, of course.”
Weddington tipped his head slightly. “Miss Robertson, it’s my pleasure to have the opportunity to see you again.”
“And the lovely lady standing beside him is Lady Anne, his sister.”
Kitty was incredibly embarrassed that she’d not noticed the lady before—that her world had narrowed down unti
l she was only vaguely aware of Farthingham and intensely conscious of Weddington’s presence. She broadened her smile. “Lady Anne, it is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“I’m so frightfully glad that Farthingham invited us,” Lady Anne gushed. “I’ve been dying to meet the lady who stole his heart.”
“Only after he stole mine,” Kitty said easily.
“Oh, splendid!” Lady Anne squealed. With her racket, she tapped Weddington on the shoulder. “There you see? I told you it was true love.” She turned her attention back to Kitty. “Richard, the beast, said your marriage was based on—”
“Anne!” Weddington’s voice rumbled with authority, hissed with warning. “That’s quite enough.”
Lady Anne pressed her mouth into a tight line until her lips were almost invisible, her cheeks blossoming into a shade that rivaled the pink petals of some of the roses in the garden.
Kitty angled her chin defiantly. “Now my curiosity is piqued, Your Grace. Upon what exactly did you think our marriage would be based?”
He narrowed his dark eyes, and she saw the tightening of his jaw. A remarkable jaw, really. Unlike Farthingham’s, which looked as though it would crumble like week-old bread with a single punch, Weddington’s gave the impression that he could use it to drive nails into fence posts.
“I thought that, like most American ladies who seek out the aristocracy, you were lured by the title rather than the man who holds it.”
He’d surprised her by answering, and she was beginning to understand why he’d sounded disappointed the first morning that she’d spoken to him. “You don’t seem to have a very high opinion of Americans.”
“Oh, he despises them,” Lady Anne confirmed.
“Anne!” Weddington barked.
The irony made Kitty smile, until she read in his eyes that he, too, was struck by the paradox of his attraction for her. And she could not help but recognize that he was drawn to her, enough so that he had proposed marriage when they knew almost absolutely nothing about each other, at least nothing of any importance.
“Perhaps you despise these American ladies because you view them as being as narrow-minded as you are, Your Grace. Judging a woman based on her country of birth and upbringing rather than on her true self.”
He angled his head and smiled. “I have indeed developed a bias where American ladies are concerned. Perhaps time spent in your company will show me the error of my ways.”
You scoundrel, she thought. Setting yourself up so Farthingham might take no offense at your seeking me out. “I am not the only American in London.”
“But you are the only one with whom I am familiar.”
Familiar fairly purred out of his mouth, hinting at intimacy, reminding her that he was dangerous on so many different levels.
“I would seek to remedy that by introducing you around, but I find myself much too busy this Season. However, you strike me as a man of considerable resourcefulness and I trust you can make do without my assistance.” She turned to Farthingham, desperately hoping that Weddington understood that her answer encompassed just as many levels. “Are we going to play?”
“Kitty is lovely, isn’t she?” Farthingham asked.
Standing to the side of the area marked for the tennis court, Richard watched Kitty and his sister play. He thought they were well matched in skill. But Anne did not have the drive for victory that seemed to fuel each of Kitty’s moves. For Anne—as it was for most ladies—tennis was merely a way in which to pass the time, perhaps engage in a bit of flirting with a gentleman opponent. For Kitty, it seemed defeat was not an option.
“Indeed she is,” Richard finally answered.
“I was unaware that you had such an unfavorable opinion of American ladies.”
Richard shrugged. “A great deal depends on their motives.”
“Interesting. I was under the impression during breakfast that you are insisting Anne marry a man of rank. How does that differ from American ladies seeking out a gentleman for a similar reason? A man is his rank.”
“Anne’s situation is different.”
“How so?”
“It is her right to marry a man of rank. Her duty if you will. To keep the bloodlines pure. There is an indisputable difference between those born into the aristocracy and those who seek to enter it through marriage.”
“You’re a snob.”
“Damned right.”
Richard took his gaze off the players and looked at Farthingham. “Our world is changing. The differences between those who hold titles and those who don’t are narrowing. I fear a day will come when even a king will settle for marrying an American. And then where will England be? They cast us off a hundred years ago, and now they want us back…on their terms.”
“So? We take them back on ours.” Farthingham grinned. “Our future is not as dire as you predict. Besides, I find Americans fascinating. Their ladies are so very different from our own. You can see it right there, watching Kitty and Anne play. Kitty possesses a competitiveness completely lacking in Anne.”
“If money were not a factor, would you marry her?”
“Yes. I need an heir, and Kitty stirs me as few women do.”
“Will that be enough for her?”
“I shall devote myself to her and ensure that she is constantly happy. What more could any woman want?”
Richard could think of a good deal more that a woman should not only want, but deserved to receive.
“Game!” Kitty suddenly cried. Her triumphant laughter echoed around them as she marched to the net, hand extended. “Good game, Lady Anne.”
“Hardly.”
The ladies walked toward them, chattering away as though they were the best of friends. It seemed that Kitty was comfortable with everyone except him, although she’d certainly taken comfort in his arms by the sea.
It did not occur to Richard until the pair reached them that he stood on Kitty’s side of the net, Farthingham on Anne’s so that it was left to him to greet the winner, to Farthingham to greet the loser.
Farthingham took Anne’s hand and patted it gently. “I thought you played splendidly.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “I gave Miss Robertson no competition whatsoever. Hopefully, you’ll prove more of a challenge.”
“I doubt it. I’ve yet to beat her.”
“A pity Richard doesn’t play.”
Kitty arched a brow that seemed to say she wasn’t at all surprised that he couldn’t master a game that required physical skill and cunning. She touched her racket to Richard’s chest. “Yes, a pity. Shall we retire for tea?”
The others had begun to move away from the court when Richard’s pride spoke up. “I accept the challenge.”
Anne spun around. “I was only teasing. You know you shouldn’t—”
Silencing her with a hard look that spoke volumes between brother and sister, he held out his hand. “Lend me your racket.”
“You are too stubborn by half.” She handed it over to him and walked to the side of the court.
“Let’s make this interesting, shall we?” Farthingham asked. “The best of five. Kitty has an interest in opera that I’ve been unable to satisfy. If she bests you, she and I will have use of your box at the Royal Italian Opera House for the Season.”
“And if I win?”
“She’ll accompany you to one performance.”
“Nicky, no!” Kitty urged, panic in her voice. “You’re being ridiculous even to consider such a wager.”
Farthingham spun around, took her face between his gloved hands, and kissed her forehead. “I have absolute faith in you, my sweet. You’ll beat him, I’ve no doubt at all. Then you and I shall enjoy the opera while he sits at home brooding over his low opinion of Americans.”
“Or I shall spend the evening at the opera with Miss Robertson while you stay at home and brood over your misplaced faith,” Richard said drolly.
Bless her! It took all his strength of will not to smile with satisfaction as a mutinous g
leam came into her eyes. He’d known she had too much of a competitive streak within her to accept a taunting of her skills meekly.
Her chin came up in what he was coming to recognize as her show of defiance. “Would you like to take a few practice swings, Your Grace, in order to warm up? I don’t want to be seen as having an unfair advantage that would cause you to cry foul.”
“I assure you, Miss Robertson, I would never claim unfair advantage on your part, and I’m quite ready to accept the challenge whenever you are.”
“Very well.” Reaching up, she unpinned her hat, removed it from her head, and handed it off to Farthingham. “I find hats to be bothersome,” she explained. “Shall we spin our rackets in order to determine who should serve first?”
“I should say not. As a gentleman, I’ll allow you to begin.”
She turned to Farthingham. “A kiss for luck?”
He bussed her cheek. “Now off with you and win us a season at the opera.”
Richard went to take his place on the court, passing Anne along the way.
“Do take care, Richard,” she said, concern etched in her voice.
He glanced over at her and winked reassuringly. “It’s a genteel sport, Anne.”
“Not the way she plays. You’d think she thought we were playing at Wimbledon.”
He had a fondness for all sports and had taken Anne to the first amateur event held four years earlier. “As you’ll recall, women don’t play at Wimbledon.”
“They should,” she snapped.
Perhaps, but it wasn’t an argument he wished to pursue at this moment. He had other prizes to win, other areas where he needed to place his efforts.
He walked to his end of the court and took up his position, balancing lightly on the balls of his feet so he could respond quickly if need be. He watched as Kitty tossed the ball down. When it bounced back into the air, she lobbed it over the net.
He had to move quickly, but only because he’d been mesmerized by her graceful movements, almost forgetting that he was not an observer, but a player who intended to win. He sprinted across the short area and hit the ball harder than he’d meant to. It sailed over the net and out of bounds.
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