by Eliza Lloyd
If Mark ended their acquaintance, that was one thing, but for her to end it, when she had no desire to? Oh Mark, how can I?
He was important to her, but there was one thing more important.
She tried to rationalize and bury those emotions Peter called to the fore, and those which Mark incited in her. Trapped, like a hare hiding from hounds.
“I will go to Russia, but I will take the boys with me.”
“No, that is unacceptable. Their staying with me is part of your penance for such an indiscretion.”
“Penance. More like punishment.”
“Call it what you will.”
She and Mark had a very enjoyable few months together. He was going to remarry at some point. And she had a perfect excuse for not seeing him that would require neither a long explanation nor would it hurt him with hurtful rejection. He’d been troubled by her injury. She could let him think that was the reason why she had to give him up. They’d enjoy sexual excesses and she’d been hurt. There. Simple as that.
Only she hadn’t really minded.
And she hadn’t really meant to fall in love with him.
Katrina was saved from a flood of tears by the arrival of her sons, who at the very least were happy to see her. And after quick kisses to her cheek, they delved into an enthusiastic litany of their adventures of the past several days.
They were not overly coddled. They were growing into fine young men and would soon have lives apart from hers. She couldn’t give up time with them. She couldn’t sacrifice them to fulfill her desires.
Damn Peter. He was going to get his way, at least as it pertained to Mark.
But not the boys. Never her boys.
She would die old and alone, without a lover or love, before she gave up her sons.
Oh, Mark.
Katrina wrote the note ending her one and only affair.
Chapter Nine
Mark puzzled over Katrina Klee while he chased scrambled eggs about his plate. Damn her note and her excuses.
He would always remember his time with her as the perfect interlude. Undemanding. Comfortable. Pleasurable. But that night was an embarrassment Katrina should not have had to endure.
What kind of a colossal prick was her brother-in-law? Mark regretted his part in her exposure, and he would have had her home early, had he known the bastard would be waiting on her doorstep.
Mark was disrupted from his breakfast by the butler. “My lord. Your sister, Lady Dane, and her husband are here. Would you like me to have them wait in the gallery?”
A visit from any of his sisters was a wonderful interruption, especially Christina, since he was closest to her. However, her dark lord and now husband could return to the pit of hell from which he came. Ah, there was no accounting for taste, and for some godforsaken reason she loved the man.
What man could possibly tell his sister no? I’m a fool. Had I told her no, Dane would not be in our lives.
He heard the wail of a baby and couldn’t help but smile. Nor would my darling Lucy be in my life.
One had to take the bad with the good.
“I’ll be right with them.” Mark finished his coffee, diluted with plenty of cream and sugar, before he threw his napkin to the table and left the breakfast room.
Dane kept to himself much of the time. His return to the bosom of society had been slow and meticulous. Christina did not hound him about their role as leading members of the Beau Monde and allowed him to do as he pleased with regard to formal invitations. Mark suspected it had something to do with her newlywed status and Lucy’s needy charm. Intense love had that effect. And a new baby? Well, who didn’t want to smother her in affection, as he was about to do.
Mark strolled into the room, nodded to his brother-in-law, kissed his sister and swept Lucy up in his arms.
“To what do I owe this early pleasure?” He turned his attention to Lucy before Christina could answer. “And how is my little pumpkin?” He clucked Lucy’s chin and earned a slobbery, toothy smile while her hands and legs jerked with enthusiasm.
Even though he loved Lucy, seeing her bloom with health only reminded him of the lifeless body of his son, who had not even taken his first breath.
“Dane and I have business this morning, and I know I should have asked earlier, but you mentioned your wish to spend more time with Lucy. And, well, you have an opportunity this morning since Meg and Diane are in Somerset with Grace.”
Had his sisters been in London, Mark was certain they would have fought over the child, since they were both newlyweds and had no children of their own. Yet.
“An inconvenience, to be sure.”
“She is your favorite niece.”
“You are leaving Lucy with me? A confirmed bachelor?” His words meant nothing. He had to at least pretend he was put out by the notion. Even though he was Lucy’s legal guardian, he wasn’t really meant to care for her with any sort of regularity. And he certainly wasn’t prepared for such a responsibility should something dreadful happen.
“Nanny Jocelyn is here. You needn’t worry that if Lucy cries or wets herself that you’ll be called upon to care for her.”
“Then why let her stay at all?”
“You sound a bit frightened? What do you think, Dane?” She glanced toward her husband, her gaze full of adoration. “Have we made a mistake? You know she can walk on her own, Mark. It is not like you will be required to do anything but admire this beautiful child we have created.”
“Can you now?” Mark said to Lucy. “You weren’t walking when I saw you last.”
“Ma-Ma,” Lucy said. The antique clocks that Grandfather had collected were lined at one side of the gallery and began chiming the ten o’clock hour. She squirmed in his arms and he hoisted her so she could look over his shoulder. “Dee,” she said, pointing one finger at the clocks.
“Don’t ask me what she said,” Christina offered.
“Ding, I think,” Dane said, his only contribution to the conversation so far.
“Of course, I accept your offer,” Mark said. “Lucy will have to suffer with me in the library while I finish my correspondence.”
“While she’s there, teach her to read, please. I’ve heard that children who can read early are much smarter in their adulthood.”
“If anyone can teach her, I can,” he said.
Christina inhaled sharply, and said, “There is something else. I wanted you to be the first to know.”
Mark bent toward her and whispered, “You are leaving him?”
“If you weren’t my brother, I would blacken your eye. No, some wonderful news, actually. Dane and I are expecting another child.”
He smiled slowly. “That is wonderful news, Christina. And congratulations to you, Dane.”
“Perhaps this time we will have a boy,” she said.
“You know it doesn’t matter to me, darling,” Dane said, finally approaching them. He slipped his hand behind Christina’s back, and Mark imagined the gentle caress and loving connection.
The scene sent a sharp needle of pain through Mark’s heart. Envy should be the last thing he experienced, but it was there, staring him in the face, prodding him with angst and anger and need. He wanted what they had and he felt himself hugging Lucy tighter in response.
“Dee,” she said again before putting her finger in her mouth. She stared at Mark, accusing him with her big eyes before she put her wet finger in his mouth. “Mou,” she said.
Christina laughed. “Well, we mustn’t stay any longer. We have commitments.”
“What time might I expect you?”
“Late, I would imagine. I promise, we won’t even wake you. Don’t worry, Nanny Jocelyn will take care of everything.”
Not everything, Mark thought. Not by a long chalk.
* * * * *
Lucy was entertaining and provided a much-needed distraction. He wondered how many earls in London knew the names of their nieces and nephews, let alone played with them. He had little experience with child rearing
or child playing, yet he found himself loving his niece more than he had anyone in a long time.
But it was a brilliant afternoon with a clear sky, so he arranged for his horse. He and Lucy would ride together. There was never a better time to meet the young boys and potential suitors for his most precious niece. His sister Grace also had a flock, both boys and girls, but they were rarely in London, so they would have to wait.
Would those young marriage candidates throw their toys and cry unceasingly? What would it matter if they were an heir to a duke? They would get none of Lucy’s attention when she turned sixteen. Mark had a long memory.
Did they say please and thank you to their governesses? Did they keep their shoes on and not throw their caps? Then perhaps…
“Oh, my lord. We surely can’t take Lady Lucy out. Not on a horse,” Nanny Jocelyn exclaimed, hand to her chest and puffed up with concern.
“We can and we shall. You will have a tame mare, short in the leg. You do know how to ride?”
“Of course, my lord, but Lucy certainly doesn’t.”
“We will rectify that shortly.”
Said niece was walking around the perimeter of the room, holding on to chairs, grasping plant stands and falling to her bottom at intervals. As soon as Mark swept her up, she would slide or crawl from his lap and begin investigating anew.
She appeared perfectly content and didn’t seem to miss her parents at all. Mark took all the credit for keeping her properly entertained.
“The horses are ready, my lord,” a servant said.
“Lucy must have a coat. And shoes. She is not ready to be seen in public.”
“A blanket and a warm cap will suffice. I do not intend to let her run wild. And being seen is precisely the reason for going.”
“Oh. Oh. This is not a good idea, my lord.” He had the nanny so flustered, he thought she might begin turning circles in the library.
“Hurry or we will leave without you.”
Nanny Jocelyn fled the room then, her footfalls echoing to the back of the house to the servants’ stairs.
“Well, my little lady, are you ready?” He opened his arms and she took a few alarmingly unstable steps in his direction. “So, Christina thinks you walk, does she? Let us hope you take to riding as a true noble would.” He swept her up and Queen Lucy was happy to be back on her perch. She looked around, allowing Mark to hold her securely until the put-upon nanny reappeared with the required garments.
“Nana,” she said. Then, much to Mark’s chagrin, Lucy reached out to her cruel nanny instead of clinging to her beloved uncle. And the cheeky little girl, with a dribble of saliva on her chin, grinned at him as if she knew what she was doing.
Once Lucy was secure in her blanket and had a woolen cap pulled over her pink little ears, they headed out of doors where the horses waited. Mark took the squirming bundle and, one-handed, mounted Titan, his bay stallion. The stableman assisted the nervous nanny.
Mark positioned Lucy in front of him so she could see. She tensed her body, and squealed with excitement, both hands fisted and shaking and peaking from beneath her blanket.
“Horsey,” Mark said, trying to imitate the baby talk he’d heard from his sisters.
He clucked his tongue and the horse trotted away, knowing its way to Hyde Park. He glanced back once to see Nanny Jocelyn was still astride and following, though bouncing with each stride. Christina was sure to hear of the jaunt, but that is the price a mother pays for leaving her child with a single brother. He could at least show Lucy some adventure before she was confined to her room with her governess until she was sixteen.
If he had to judge his feeling about future daughters based on his feeling about his niece, he was sure he would commit some great crime on anyone who dared to harm his children. Of course, such a scoundrel wouldn’t live to tell the story.
Lucy settled, lulled by the gait of the horse. He glanced down at his niece’s head to see her brownish curls bush out around her cap. She’d also found a way to get one hand free of the blanket and had popped two fingers in her mouth. She rubbed her thumb along the satiny edge of the soft wrapper.
Owing to the beauty of the day, the park was full of his acquaintances, from every stratum. There was a duchess with her entourage; a gaggle of governesses with their charges; nobles galloping through Rotten Row.
And a baroness strolling with her brother-in-law. One of her sons was with her. The youngest? He held a decorative kite, tail dragging in the dirt. And Katrina? Vibrant and beautiful as always. She was not wearing a sling. It had been a few days since the original incident; perhaps the mishap and resulting injury weren’t as severe as he’d feared. No, she had to be in pain. She’d nearly dislocated her shoulder and that sort of injury did not heal in a day or two.
He’d been able to put her from his mind, for the most part. It had taken a Herculean effort involving letter-writing and Lucy, but he’d been able to think of something other than why she’d so easily dismissed him.
It was complicated he knew, but surely, if he could talk to her alone, they could come to a new agreement.
He’d been mistaken about the drinking, though, as his mind wallowed in the memories of their time together. No, he had not really been able to think of anything but her in spite of Lucy’s innocent charm. Katrina was there, soft as a spring breeze rustling his weak composure.
In truth, his love was reserved for one woman only, and she’d effectively ended any further development of their passionate affair. Love? Maybe. Yes, probably.
Could he declare such a thing? Was he prepared to in order to win her back? No. Obviously, she did not feel the same.
He pulled at the leather straps wound through the fingers of one hand and Titan came to a stop, blowing from his snout and jangling the reins of his harness.
Katrina held her parasol as ladies did, tilted slightly. Protecting yet displaying. Her free arm was held at an angle. He noticed her thumb was hooked into a sash around her waist. The explanation was obvious—she did not want to elucidate about wearing a sling. And for that his face heated. She was as rare as the silver crafted by her family, and he had harmed her with his excesses.
Her dress, a summery shade, made her vivid looks all the more startling. Her strange violet-colored eyes were wide with anxiety. She did not want to see him, or rather, she did not want to see him while she was with Klee.
Klee tipped his hat. Katrina nodded.
“Lady Klee good day to you. Mr. Klee,” Mark said. “You’ll pardon me for not removing my hat.”
“Your hands are full, I see, Lord Compton,” Katrina said. She wore an approving, practiced smile.
“My niece, the Lady Lucy Conover.”
The arm Katrina protected moved slowly when her son pressed to her side. Other than the tightening of her jaw, she expressed no symptoms of pain. He could see the display of her wrist and the meaningful bracelet she wore. A gift and an heirloom.
“We are out for her first horse ride. I have high hopes she’ll be a fine equestrian someday.”
“Then she is in excellent hands. This is my youngest, Sergei,” Katrina said, introducing Mark as Lord Compton.
“My lord,” Sergei said, bowing smartly. The boy was definitely her son, his Russian heritage obvious in his features and fairness. He had Katrina’s eyes.
Klee cleared his throat, throwing Mark his sternest, disapproving gaze. “Perhaps we ought to continue our stroll.” He could posture all he wished. Katrina was not allowing him to touch her, a telltale sign to be sure.
“Peter, would you be so kind as to take Sergei along? I would have a private word with Lord Compton.”
“I do not think that is appropriate.”
“This one thing is not up to you, and we are in public.”
Mark waited while Peter Klee bent to Katrina’s will. He wondered how many times she had to stand up for herself while Klee made a nuisance of himself and made her life uncertain. He dismounted, shuffling Lucy to his other arm, and waved to the nan
ny to remain seated.
Katrina smiled at him but turned her attention to Lucy. “She is a darling. I always wanted a girl.”
What could he say? That she should be happy she had her three sons? Or that it would be his great honor to provide the seed for such a venture? “I am quite taken with her.”
“You should have one of your own. And soon,” she said. She lifted her eyes to meet his questioning gaze.
“Katrina?” He wanted to take her in his arms, but there were too many strollers and onlookers, some of whom already eyed them with ripe speculation.
“Oh, don’t worry. Everything is fine.”
“Is it?”
She looked down for a moment. “Mark, you know this must end. I am sorry, but I have my sons to consider.”
“I don’t know any such thing. We will be more careful. And he should mind is own damn business anyway.”
Mark found himself rubbing Lucy’s back, trying to keep her from squirming in his arms, but the park was full of interesting things to see, and she didn’t care about conversing with the beautiful Katrina.
In fact, Lucy interrupted the conversation with another wet, freshly pulled-from-her-mouth finger point. “Hos.”
“Yes, horsey,” Mark said.
“Mark, I need to be going before Peter intrudes again.”
“When will I see you next?”
“It’s over, Mark. I’m sorry. It was wonderful. Really. And thank you for the gifts. That you took time to find such beautiful pieces means the world to me.” She flipped her wrist and the bauble winked in the sunlight. “It is all I really have of my family’s heritage.
“Goodbye,” she said.
She turned away and rejoined Peter, not looking back. Not one last touch. Or one last kiss. Not even a goodbye really.
“Hos,” Lucy said again.
“Yes, Lucy, but couldn’t you have said something clever like ‘please don’t leave him, Katrina’?”
Lucy grinned, one arm waving and she hit him on the face.
“I deserved that. Now how about we find you a filthy rich duke’s heir?”
