She pushed the glass of milk toward him. “You are not drinking whiskey at the table. You will drink your milk, or I will pour it down your throat.”
The Duke had to suppress a laugh as he watched the battle of wills play out between the American and the thief. He wasn’t altogether sure who’d win until Snake capitulated, his small face twisting in a grimace, and picked up the glass of milk, loudly slurping it down.
“What are you going to do when you get too big for your job, Snake?” Kendra asked.
Snake’s naturally impertinent expression faded, and he jerked his thin shoulders in a quick shrug. “Oi reckon Bear’ll find me somethin’ else ter do.” His gaze fell on his empty plate for a long moment, then he shoved himself to his feet. He jutted out his chin as he regarded them. “Oi ’ave ter go. Can Oi ’ave me drink back?”
Kendra said nothing, her gaze pensive as she studied the boy. Snake shuffled his feet, clearly uneasy under the intense regard.
“What would you do if someone offered you a job, Snake?” she asked. “A legitimate job.”
“W’ot kinda job?” Snake asked suspiciously.
“I don’t know. Stable hand, maybe. Your Grace?”
Aldridge was rendered speechless when Kendra shot him a pleading look. He thought of the reaction his head groom, Hadley, would have if he were asked to take charge of the young criminal. And Caro . . . good God. It was probably best not to think of his sister. He said slowly, “Well, I imagine we ought to be able to find the boy a position at Aldridge Castle, or one of my other estates.”
Snake’s mouth pulled down. “Leave London Town?”
He shifted his gaze to the urchin. “Perhaps.” Most definitely. “And there will be standards that you shall be required to obey.”
The boy eyed him narrowly. “W’ot sort of standards?”
“Cleanliness,” Aldridge stated firmly. “You’d have to bathe on a regular basis. At least once or twice a week.” In fact, Aldridge wondered if he should douse himself in whiskey to rid himself of any of the invisible insects that the boy was most likely carrying.
“Gor!”
Aldridge continued, “No more thievery and criminal activities.”
“Bloody ’ell!”
“And no cursing—at least not in a lady’s presence,” Aldridge said, although he didn’t need Alec’s quick grin to recognize how absurd that stipulation was, given the fact that the only lady present had a tendency to swear in a most unladylike manner.
The boy stared at him, aghast. “Are ye Quakers?”
Aldridge had to smile. “No. Why don’t you take some time to consider my proposal?”
Snake chewed on his lower lip, his gaze flicking to his empty plate. “Aye, gov’ner . . . Oi’m gonna ’ave ter think on it. Oi gotta go.”
“I must take my leave, as well,” Alec drawled, and there was a glint of amusement in his green eyes. “I shall escort you to the door, Snake. Good evening, Duke, Miss Donovan.”
Aldridge suspected his nephew was ushering the boy out of the house to make sure the silver candlesticks didn’t go missing.
Alec paused at the door, his gaze traveling back to Kendra. “You are much more kind-hearted and generous than you let on, Miss Donovan.”
After they left, Kendra looked to the Duke. “Yeah, I’m being kind and generous with your money and food, Your Grace. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Do not fret, my dear. My purse can afford it.”
She shook her head, then pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly frustrated. “That’s not the point! Christ.”
He wondered if should remind her of the rule of no cursing, but decided she looked too upset to tease her.
“It was impulsive,” she continued, dropping her hands. “I am not impulsive. And this is the second time I’ve done this.”
Aldridge knew Kendra was referring to Flora, an abused farm wife that she’d rescued in Yorkshire, and who was now assisting the cook in his skeletal staff at Monksgrey, his Lancashire estate.
“Bloody hell, maybe I am turning into a Quaker,” she muttered.
Now he laughed. “I don’t think so.” Not with that sailor’s mouth. “I think you are aware that soon Snake will outgrow the position that he holds in Bear’s criminal organization. And when that happens, either Bear will cut the child loose or he will train him to do something far worse than housebreaking.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder, searching her troubled expression. “Why are you so upset that you were being kind, my dear?”
She said nothing for a long moment, then sighed heavily. “I can’t explain it without sounding stupid. Doing things out of character . . . I feel like I’m losing myself, like I don’t know who I am anymore. Who I’m becoming. And it’s not fair to you. I’m not providing Snake with a job—you are. I’m not being generous. I’m forcing you to be generous.”
“You worry too much. I might not be able to take in all of London’s homeless, but I ought to be able to take in one small boy, my dear.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Of course, if Snake accepts our largesse, I think we ought to send him to Aldridge Castle, or somewhere else far away from his current associates.”
She was still frowning, but nodded. “You’re right. Thank you, Your Grace. I suppose I need to get ready for tonight.” She crossed the room, hesitating when she reached the door. She glanced back at him. “I really don’t know why I interfered. Next time I do, maybe you should hit me over the head with a rock or something.”
“I don’t believe we need to resort to violence,” he chuckled.
“If I can’t control my suddenly quixotic impulses, you may have to buy another estate to house all the new servants I find on the streets.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe I do need to find a rock, after all.”
This time, Kendra was the one who laughed.
He smiled as he watched her leave. Then he walked to his desk to retrieve his pipe. He went through the ritual of filling the bowl with tobacco, tamping it down, and lighting it with a stick he set on fire from the blaze in the hearth. Sinking down into his chair behind his desk, he puffed gently on the stem as he contemplated what had happened.
When Kendra had first arrived from the future—and, by God, he still marveled at that—she’d been careful to keep herself detached from this world. Oh, she’d participated in murder investigations, and he knew that she had formed attachments. Deliberately, he shut his mind to the one she’d formed with his nephew. Society would change, he now knew, but he was a part of this society. Was it wrong for him to wish his nephew and ward would seek their pleasures in the marital bed?
He leaned back in his chair, his gaze on the curling gray smoke as he thought about how skittish Kendra had always seemed about becoming more involved with life around her. She’d talked about butterflies flapping their wings in one part of the world, causing hurricanes in another part of the world, or some such nonsense.
Something had changed in Yorkshire, though. For the first time, Kendra had moved beyond her position as an observer. She’d become actively engaged when she’d helped Flora.
And now here was Snake.
He smiled slowly. It was a slow process, but his world was becoming Kendra’s world.
She just didn’t know it yet.
23
Lady St. James had been right in her prediction; the Smyth-Hope ball was indeed a crush. The Beau Monde was packed so tightly inside the Belgrave Square mansion that Kendra was certain a few of the guests would be sporting bruised ribs and smashed toes the next morning. Lady Atwood, who’d accompanied the Duke, Alec, and Kendra, took one look at the crowded entrance hall and declared Lady Smyth-Hope an unqualified success as a hostess.
As they joined the humanity surging toward the grand staircase, Lady Atwood glanced over at Kendra. “Remember, Miss Donovan, you must not dance with the same gentleman more than twice this evening.”
“I don’t plan to dance at all. I’m here to find Lord Cross.”<
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“I hope the waltz has infiltrated the Smyth-Hope ballroom,” Alec murmured, his mouth curving into a small smile. There was enough heat in his green eyes to ignite warmth in Kendra’s belly.
Lady Atwood sniffed. “Let us hope that scandalous thing has not reached so far into decent society.
“If you do dance, you must remember to have more than one partner, Miss Donovan,” Lady Atwood continued with a hiss. Unfurling the ivory fan dangling from her wrist, she used it to combat the oppressive heat in the hall. “You cannot dance only with Sutcliffe. Do you understand? You do not want to make it look as though he were singling you out for his attention.”
Kendra wondered why the condemnation should fall on her if Alec was the one singling her out.
“However,” Lady Atwood went on with dogged determination, “if you refuse one gentleman, you must refuse all the gentlemen who request a dance. It would be bad ton to deny one gentleman and dance with another.”
Crap. Kendra hated the rules in this era. She had a nearly eidetic memory and yet even she had trouble remembering the rules that were countless, many contradictory and often idiotic.
“Why don’t I turn down Sutcliffe now, so I can avoid dancing altogether?”
Lady Atwood’s lips compressed into a thin line of disapproval. “That is not amusing, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra wondered if she should admit that she hadn’t been joking when the Duke intervened. “Miss Donovan shall be perfectly fine, Caro,” he said, and shot Kendra a grin. “She has been in . . . England long enough to understand these matters.”
“This is serious, Aldridge,” Lady Atwood whispered, and pinned Kendra with her gaze. “Your manners shall be under observation. Do not embarrass yourself or the Aldridge good name.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kendra had to curl her hands into fists to stop herself from saluting.
Lady Atwood narrowed her eyes, obviously trying to figure out if there was sarcasm in her quick agreement.
“Come, Caro.” The Duke cupped his sister’s elbow and tugged her forward. They’d reached the bottom of the grand staircase, where only two people at a time could ascend. Kendra had the whimsical thought that they were all a little like exotic animals climbing the steps of Noah’s Ark.
Alec caught her gloved hand and brought it around the crook of his arm. He leaned toward her to murmur against her ear. “Have I told you that you look beautiful this evening, Miss Donovan?”
Her gown was a sheer, shell-pink gauze over a cream satin under slip, with long-sleeves and a square neckline that was dangerously low. Tiny rosettes and seed pearls were scattered across the high bodice, catching the candlelight, while the skirt seemed to froth around her ankles with each step. While there were many days when Kendra desperately longed for the easy stride of Levi’s jeans, the comfort of a cotton T-shirt and knit cardigan, or even the cotton and spandex blend of trousers and a blazer, tonight she did feel elegant in her long white kid gloves, with her dark hair pulled up high in an elaborate bouffant that Molly had decorated with a netting of pearls.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and her lips curved in a slow smile as she gave Alec a provocative look from beneath her lashes. “You don’t look so bad yourself, my lord.”
Actually, that was an understatement. Alec looked drop-dead gorgeous in his dark blue evening coat, layered over a silver-embroidered waistcoat, and cream breeches. His valet had done his snowy white cravat in a style with folds and knots that would have looked fussy and effeminate on anybody except Alec, she decided.
At her comment, Alec’s green eyes widened in a brief moment of surprise, and then he huffed out a laugh. His aunt craned her head around to frown down at him. Kendra half expected Lady Atwood to reprimand her, And you must not make a gentleman laugh.
Lord and Lady Smyth-Hope stood outside the door to their ballroom, regal sentries greeting their guests. Kendra murmured something polite and innocuous when they were introduced, aware that she was inspected thoroughly by both of her hosts. Then she and Alec surged through the tall double doors, into the ballroom where—thank God—they had more breathing room.
The ballroom had ice-blue silk walls decorated with gilt-framed paintings and mirrors. Two enormous diamond drop chandeliers were blazing with candles, their light reflected back in the glittering jewels that adorned a few gloveless fingers, encircled throats, and dangled from ears. An orchestra, tucked near the French doors, was already playing a Scottish reel for those on the dance floor. On the sidelines, a group of matrons were seated together, gossiping from behind fans, their eagle eyes observing the dancers as well as the single girls stuck on the sidelines and couples who strolled the outer perimeter of the dance floor.
The familiar odor of beeswax from the candles wafted across the ballroom, mingling with the heavier perfumes and colognes of the guests. As the evening wore on, Kendra knew from past experience, the floral and musky scent would become even more overpowering, with ladies making trips to the withdrawing rooms to douse themselves with perfume to combat the stench of sweat. Kendra only hoped that Lady Smyth-Hope would be smart enough to open a window.
Lady St. James, puce evening gown billowing with her trademark ruffles, barreled toward them. She was accompanied by a young gentleman, probably no more than twenty-five, with an affable, unremarkable face framed by golden curls already going limp in the heat of the ballroom. Kendra’s gaze skated over his elaborate cravat and decided that she’d been right. Alec could carry it off without being fussy; this man could not.
“Good evening, Your Grace, and my dear Lady Atwood!” Lady St. James gave a quick curtsy. Rising, she said, “Miss Donovan, Lord Sutcliffe. I am so pleased that you came. May I introduce Mr. Humphrey.” She turned a sly smile on Kendra as the young man executed a perfect bow. “Mr. Humphrey is the son of Lord Colter. He was most interested in making your acquaintance, Miss Donovan.”
Before Kendra could wonder about that, the man offered her a shy smile and said, “I would be most honored if you would dance the next set with me, Miss Donovan.”
Kendra could feel her lips part in surprise. “What?”
“Of course, Miss Donovan would be delighted to dance with you, Mr. Humphrey,” Lady Atwood accepted in a rush, even as she threw a steely look in Kendra’s direction, as though daring her to contradict her. “Aren’t you delighted, Miss Donovan?”
Hell. But Kendra managed to summon a smile. “Of course. Thank you, sir.” She shifted her gaze to Lady St. James, and asked, “Have you seen Lord Cross?”
The other woman’s smile broadened. “Yes, he’s in attendance. Although I don’t know where he is at the moment.”
Kendra was thinking about grabbing Alec and doing a room by room search, but it was too late. The music that the orchestra had been playing died away, finishing the current dance set, and the smiling Mr. Humphrey stepped forward to offer his arm. She tried not to scowl when he led her out onto the floor in one of the popular longways. Two rows formed, segregated by sex, dance partners facing each other. For a moment, Kendra was glad that she wore gloves because she could feel her palms dampen as the orchestra struck up a new melody. The men bowed, and she joined the women in curtsying. Then they were gliding toward each other, and her memory of the dance lessons that she’d endured over Christmas kicked in. Slowly, she relaxed.
She looked at Mr. Humphrey as they clasped hands and moved in a circle. She asked, “Did you hear about what happened to Sir Giles?”
He blinked, startled. Murder probably wasn’t the normal topic of conversation on the dance floor. But, damn it, if she had to dance, she didn’t think it was unreasonable for her to utilize her time. Two birds, one stone.
“Yes,” Mr. Humphrey said after he’d recovered. He pursed his lips together in a way that conveyed sympathy and horror. “A terrible tragedy.”
“Did you ever meet him?”
“No, I never made the man’s acquaintance. However, I am familiar with his son, Gerard. We attended Eton together.”
Kendra wasn’t really surprised. The so-called Polite Society sent their male offspring to many of the same schools to be shaped and molded like wet clay to one day lead the British Empire. She asked, “Were you friends?”
“Not friends, no.”
“What’s your impression of him?”
Before he could answer, though, the steps of the dance changed, forcing them to separate. Impatiently, Kendra waited until she circled back to him again. It took a moment to get into their rhythm. She was about to repeat the question when he said, “Holbrooke was a year ahead of me, but I found him to be a likeable enough fellow, I suppose. As long as one didn’t get in his way.”
“Did you get in his way?”
“There was a time or two.” Mr. Humphrey’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “Let’s just say he could make life unpleasant if he were vexed enough by you. But we were children. Thirteen is a difficult age for boys. I have two older brothers, and they relished torturing me and my two sisters when we were children.”
She kept her gaze on his. “You’re saying that you think he’s changed?”
Again, she had to wait for his answer when the dance broke them apart. “We travel in the same circles, but we are not friends,” he finally said, then laughed. “I must say, Miss Donovan, this is not the conversation I imagined when I asked you to dance. You are a most unusual woman.”
Kendra tried not to wince. He hadn’t said it with any censure or mockery, and his affable expression remained. “What conversation did you imagine?”
“Oh, the typical. Lady St. James said you are an American, so naturally I would inquire about your home there, and your journey to England. I would ask you of your opinion of England, and if you have enjoyed your stay.” He smiled at her. “This is much more interesting. Less . . . rehearsed.”
She returned his smile. “Well, then . . . what do you know about Lord Cross?”
His eyes flickered. “Not very much. We went to school together as well, but he was also a year ahead of me.”
“Were he and Holbrooke friends?” she asked before they parted.
Betrayal in Time Page 20
