“Took him long enough.”
“You’re not bothered by it?”
“Why would I be bothered by it? I arranged it.”
“To win a wager.”
He held silent, not that she blamed him. What was there to say? He might not have initially collected the winnings, but eventually he had. From his duplicity, he had built this place. She no longer resented it, but still she wished he’d admitted that what he would have gained had not been his primary motivation, that he’d sent the letter because of his feelings for her, his desire to see her gain what she wanted. She didn’t know why she was disappointed, why she wanted more. He’d never proclaimed his love for her.
She was here now not because of his feelings toward her but hers toward him.
How often had women made that very mistake? She thought the Trewloves were probably examples of it happening six times at least. Fortunately, however, she wouldn’t bring an unwanted child into the world. No, not unwanted. She’d have wanted it. Her parents, not so much. They might have even sent her packing. But she would be spared all that because he had experience, he’d thought ahead, he’d taken precautions.
She wanted another woman never to be in this room. But she thought that unlikely to happen. He would carry on with his life, and she would move on with hers. She wanted him to be happy, to have someone. While she would have the duke. “You assume I’ll say yes.”
He shifted until he was resting on his elbow, looking down on her. “Of course, you’ll say yes. It’s the opportunity to have what you’ve always desired.” He curled his fingers around the side of her neck, stroked his thumb along the length of her jaw. “I’ve been there, Kathryn. I understand why you love it, why you want it. It belongs with you. The cottage, the sea, the shoreline. The dawn. I’ll always see you there.”
In his memories.
She would see him there as well. And here. In this once-abandoned building that he had transformed into something that held the power to change lives, hearts, and futures. He’d been betrayed by his father, by Society. But he’d come out the other side, a stronger, better man. A man capable of achieving his ambitions.
“I can’t come back here. Ever.”
“No, you can’t. I’ll be cancelling your membership.”
“What if I told him no?”
“You won’t.”
After rolling out of the bed, he snatched up his trousers. She sat up abruptly, pulling the sheet over her chest. “What are you doing?”
He tossed her chemise and drawers toward her. “Start getting dressed.”
“I don’t understand.” He seemed angry, furious in fact.
“It’s time you left. I’ll escort you to your carriage.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He swung around and faced her. Oh yes, he was definitely fuming.
“Why would you even consider telling him no? After all the trouble I went to in order to see this match happen? Why not take advantage of it?”
“All the trouble you went to?” She scrambled out of the bed, balled up her hands, and glared at him. His fury was now hers. “What have you done? Did you make another wager that he would indeed marry me?”
“Don’t be absurd.”
With no conviction in his tone, she rather feared that he’d done exactly that. “Then, why are you so concerned with my marrying him?”
“This is exactly why I left the cottage. Because I knew I’d give in to temptation and have you. And you would mistake passion for love and latch on to this ridiculous notion that there could be more between us. Do you know what you would lose if you married me? Other than the obvious: your inheritance? You would lose Society. No more dinners. No more balls. No more being called upon.”
“Althea’s family welcomed you.”
“Because we are now related. But the rest of those who presently surround you? They want nothing to do with me. I know their secrets, and they know I know them. And those who come here? Their visits are clandestine. They’re not proud to be seen here. They’re not proud of what they’re doing. They know what this place encourages. What I encourage. They’re not going to welcome a man such as me into their homes. And they won’t welcome you if you’re at my side.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that.” He shook his head. “But it’s all moot, sweetheart. Because the shackles of marriage are not for me. They never have been. You asked for one night. That’s all I’m willing to give you. You fell into the trappings of this place. It’s all only fantasy. It’s time you go back to your duke.”
She stood before him in all her splendor, trembling with her righteous indignation. He could see the various spots where his stubble had abraded her delicate skin. He could see the fading blush that their shared passions had brought to the fore.
Could see the hurt and disbelief in her eyes, and the sight flayed his heart.
But he couldn’t have her giving up her dreams for him.
She didn’t know what it was to be cast out. How it battered and bruised. For her, it would be so much worse, because she’d been embraced by the Society that would turn against her. It would hurt, would devastate her. Eventually she would resent what being with him cost her.
He wouldn’t be responsible for any of that befalling her. He wouldn’t see her embarrassed, mortified, or shamed.
“I thought you’d changed.” She jerked on her undergarments. “But you’re still a scapegrace, a scoundrel.”
“I will always be. It suits me.” Even if at the moment it was tearing him up inside. Shredding his soul, inviting him into hell.
She stepped into her gown, brought it up. He stepped forward to help with the lacings. Her glare stopped him cold. “I don’t require your assistance. I don’t require anything of you any longer.”
While she struggled to do herself up, he pulled on his trousers, dragged on his shirt, tugged on his boots. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but she was dressed and heading for the door before he’d finished. He hastened to follow.
“I don’t need you to escort me,” she said tartly.
“Is your carriage in the mews? There’s a rear door that will get you there directly.”
She didn’t speak until they reached the lowest level. “Well, show me.”
He led her down the hallway, through the kitchens. Throwing the bolt on the door, he swung it open. She edged past him, taking deliberate care to ensure her skirts didn’t brush against him this time.
It was like a blow to the gut. Even though it was deserved.
With her shoulders back, her head held high, she marched forward. The footman opened the carriage door and handed her up.
She settled in, becoming lost in the shadows, without looking out the window. Then she was gone.
And everything grew quiet.
He dropped to his knees, threw his head back, and howled as the pain of letting her go threatened to destroy him.
Chapter 20
She’d gone through her day in a haze, her well-sated body continuing to thrum, her mind constantly drifting to thoughts of Griff and the manner in which he’d made her feel loved, cherished, and desired. Until he’d snatched it all away with the brutal truth.
When Althea had called on her and they’d enjoyed tea in the garden, she’d almost confessed, “I made the mistake of falling madly in love with your brother.”
When Wilhelmina had invited her for a stroll through the park, she’d almost confided, “You were right. A woman should be wicked at least once in her life.” But she should take great care in choosing the one with whom she’d be wicked.
When she had wandered into the library and caught her mother sitting on her father’s lap, their mouths clamped together, a book resting on the floor nearby, she envisioned her mother interrupting his reading to offer him something more enticing. Her chest had tightened painfully as she’d backed quietly out of the room, wondering if she would be sacrificing spontaneous moments of affection in the future.
When ladies called in the afternoon, she wished them away, barely listening as they gossiped about this lady or that one and some gent. All she wanted was to curl up on her bed and think of Griff, relive the moments of their night together, mourn for what would never again be, for what might never have been to begin with.
She had a different future, away from him, one that had been designed for her by a woman she’d always believed loved her beyond measure. Who’d wanted only the best for her and would reward her when she acquired it. But what if the reward was not worth the cost?
She needed away from here, needed the only place where she’d ever truly been herself, where she could think without interruption. Where no one would call upon her. Where no one would stop by to offer a bit of gossip. After finally managing to catch her parents when they weren’t pressed up against each other, she informed them that she was away to Kent for a few days and set her maid to the task of packing a small trunk for her.
She had only just changed into her traveling frock when a knock on her door sounded a heartbeat before her mother barged in, apparently too impatient to wait for Kathryn to bid her entry. Excitement was fairly shimmering off her.
“Oh, my dear girl, the duke has asked for a private audience with your father. He’s speaking with him in the library at this very minute.” Her mother released a tiny squeal and squeezed her hands. “You’ll be betrothed before the night is done. I’m sure of it. Quickly now, you must change. You must be prepared for an audience with him.”
He’d told her he intended to speak with her father. She simply hadn’t expected it to be so soon. “It’s possible that he’s discussing an investment opportunity.”
“Posh!” Her mother fluttered a hand through the air. “He’s discussing a marriage opportunity. You’ll be a duchess. Your grandmother would be so thrilled.”
“Would she?”
“Absolutely. She wanted to see you well cared for. I daresay there isn’t a peer in all of England who could see you more well cared for than the Duke of Kingsland.”
Lowering herself onto the vanity bench, Kathryn knew her mother spoke true. She would have a lovely residence, beautiful clothes, and attentive servants. But she didn’t yearn for Kingsland, didn’t grow warm thinking about kissing him, didn’t long for his touch, or find herself worrying over him several times a day. Was that fair to him? Was it fair to herself? “But was it the sort of care she had in mind? I see so little of him.”
“He is a busy man. Rumor is that he’s increased his income twice over this year alone . . . and the year is not yet done.”
“But he was wealthy without that.”
“Now he is wealthier. What is wrong with you? I daresay it seems you are searching for excuses to turn him away.”
“I’m not searching for excuses, but now that the moment is upon me, I worry that I know so few details about him. I don’t know what he likes to read. I know little at all about his business”—except for the couple of ventures he’d spoken about of late—“or how he enjoys spending his leisure hours.”
“What are you carrying on about? You will have the sort of marriage you have been working toward your entire life.”
“Is it really what I’ve been working toward?”
“You have been acting deuced odd of late. Is it because your father has given you permission to visit with Althea again, now that she has married a respectable man? Is she filling your mind with peculiar ideas?”
“No.” She got up and walked to the window. She could see the duke’s black coach in the drive, but where was the sea? She needed the sea. But if she didn’t marry him, she would lose it. No, she wouldn’t. She could go to Brighton. Although, it wouldn’t be the same. She had no memories of Griff there. Why should she want memories of him when he didn’t want her?
“My darling, whatever is wrong?” Her mother had come up beside her and was patting the curls that were streaming down Kathryn’s back. “You’re acting as though Kingsland is discussing your funeral, not your wedding.”
Turning, she faced the woman who had brought her into the world. “You waited thirty years for love, Mother. Do you not ever wish you’d had it sooner?”
Her mother stopped fiddling with her hair and gazed out the window. Kathryn wondered what she was looking for or what she saw. “Some women go their entire lives without love, Kathryn. ’Tis better to have it late than not at all.”
“That’s not an answer to my question.”
“Of course, I wish I’d had it sooner.” Her mother squared her shoulders and faced her, tilting up her chin until she no longer had the mien of a mother but only that of a countess. “But in all the years I didn’t have it, I never went hungry, I never was cold, I never went without. Love is a lovely thing to have, but it cannot provide. You must be practical. When your father dies, your uncle—and then his son—will give you nothing. They will not see to your care. They will not give you influence, power, or prestige. Being a duchess will. Being the Duke of Kingsland’s duchess will give it to you tenfold. If you do not take this offer, you will not only disappoint your grandmother but me and your father as well. And I suspect in time, you’ll be disappointed in yourself.” Her mother squeezed her hands. “I heard he received over a hundred letters. And he chose you, dear girl. Perhaps there is a hint of love in that.”
“You know, Mother, I think there very well may have been.” Just not in the manner the dear woman thought.
Her mother tugged on the sleeves of Kathryn’s frock. “Now, let’s get you into something a bit more enticing. Sarah, the green.”
“Yes, my lady,” her maid said.
“I don’t think I need to go to the bother of changing again.”
“Of course you do.” Her mother took her face in her hands. “His proposal will be a memory you will long cherish. And it is something he will often reflect on. You want your beauty to shine.”
For some reason, she couldn’t imagine Kingsland reflecting on the moment at all.
The knock came softly, but with a bit of urgency.
“Come!” her mother called out.
One of the maids opened the door, stepped into the room, and bobbed a quick curtsy. “The Duke of Kingsland is waiting in the front parlor. He’d like a word with Lady Kathryn.”
Her mother released a deep sigh of relief. “Inform His Grace that we shall be down momentarily.” She turned to Kathryn. “Now, let’s get you properly attired.”
Off came her traveling dress. On went the green gown. She felt as though she was an actress being readied for a play as her mother began providing her with lines. “You’ll want to thank him profusely for choosing you. Tell him you are honored. Ensure—”
“Mother, I don’t need you to tell me what to say. I have been brought up to know how to respond.”
After Kathryn was put back to rights, her mother squeezed her arms. “I am just so happy for you. Let’s go see what he wants, shall we?”
“Quiet.”
Her mother glowered at her. “I beg your pardon?”
“That’s what he wants. Quiet.” She wound her arm around her mother’s. “But, yes, certainly, let’s go see what he has to say.”
As they descended the stairs, the countess described how she envisioned Kathryn’s wedding gown. All the tulle, satin, and lace. The length of the veil. The length of the train. It all seemed so tedious. Where was Kathryn’s excitement? Where was her joy, her anticipation?
Her mother accompanied her into the parlor. The Duke of Kingsland was standing by the fireplace, his forearm pressed to the mantel, his head bent slightly as he gazed into the empty hearth. At the sound of their footsteps, he turned.
He was so devastatingly handsome, dark hair and strong
features. Yet she could have been looking at a cup of cool tea for all the thrill that went through her at the sight of him. She didn’t want to comb her fingers through his hair or trail them over his shoulders. She couldn’t imagine herself ever running into his arms.
“Your Grace,” her mother sang out as she glided toward him and curtsied. “We’re so thrilled you’ve come to call.”
“Lady Ridgeway, as always it’s a pleasure to see you.”
“But I understand it is not me you are here to see. Rather, you wish to have a word with Kathryn. I shall leave you to it.”
As she floated toward the door, she passed Kathryn and gave her a pointed look which communicated effectively Mind how you go here.
When her mother was no longer about, Kathryn offered the duke a small smile. “Your Grace, shall I send for tea?”
“No, thank you. Would you care to sit?”
She approached him, stopping only a couple of feet shy of him. “Actually, I think I prefer to stand.”
“As you wish.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve just had a meeting with your father. I’m certain you’re aware of what that portends.”
“Since I wasn’t privy to the conversation, I cannot say with any degree of confidence.” It was what she would have said to Griff had he made such an absurd statement. He might not have liked it, but she would have seen appreciation in his eyes. In the duke’s she saw merely impatience.
“You’re not going to be this contrary as a wife, are you?”
“Having never been a wife, to be honest I can’t say how I will be as one.”
“Is that the reason you didn’t write me a letter, describing yourself?”
“There are a lot of reasons I didn’t write the letter.”
“Mmm. I see. Well. Be that as it may, I have spoken with your father, and we have come to terms. So all that is left”—he took a step forward, bowed his head slightly—“Lady Kathryn, will you honor me by becoming my wife?”
Scoundrel of My Heart EPB Page 22
