A Lady by Midnight (23 page)

He gripped his cock tighter, pumped faster. So close.

“Samuel,” she gasped. “Samuel, I can’t—”

She cried out and bucked against his mouth, shaking the headboard with the force of her crisis.

Hearing his name on her lips, in that lusty voice . . . it sent him over the edge. His own climax erupted, wrenching his hips off the mattress. He came growling and shuddering, spilling his seed in forceful jets.

In the aftermath, the only sounds were the crackle of the fire, the muted patter of rain, and the hoarse, open-mouthed rasps of their breathing.

Well. She’d wanted carnality.

As soon as he could regain some strength in his limbs, he guided her aside and helped her settle onto the mattress. She curled next to him with her eyes closed, still working for breath.

She was so quiet for so long, he began to worry. Damn it. He must have shocked her too greatly. She was having regrets, wondering just what sort of beast she’d tethered herself to.

He stroked her hair, teasing out the rain-induced tangles with his fingers. “Are you well?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m well indeed. I’m just not sure how to look at you after that.”

After a moment’s thought, he suggested, “With pride?”

She laughed into her pillow.

“I’m serious. You were perfect.”

“You have such a wicked sense of humor. You always make me laugh at the most unlikely moments.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a wonderful thing.” She propped her chin on his chest. “It’s one of the things I love most about you. And it’s what assures me we’ll be happy together. We’re neither of us perfect people, but we can laugh together and admit our mistakes. And there’s this.” She eyed the mussed bed linens, blushing.

There was “this” indeed.

“After what we just did,” she said, “I don’t suppose I could have a single secret from you.”

“I pressed you too far just now. It’s your first time. I should have been more tender, more—”

“Please. Don’t apologize for giving me unfathomable pleasure. It’s just . . . for a fantasy girl, I didn’t even do much of anything.” Smiling, she touched his flagging erection. “I’d like to help with this part next time.”

A hoarse chuckle lifted his chest. “That can be arranged. Shortly.”

“Do we have a little time to talk first?”

He sat up in bed, pushing a hand through his hair before reaching for his flask. “A few minutes, at least. I’m not a youth anymore.”

At her chirping call, Badger abandoned his quilt and leaped onto the bed. The pup circled a good five times before finally wedging into a space between them. His tail whipped furiously.

“There we are,” she said. “Just like a little family. We’ll be very cozy in America.”

Thorne took a casual draught off his flask. Best not tell her that with those simple words she’d gone and made his wildest, most depraved and outrageous fantasy come true. He’d keep that information to himself. Until after a few more rounds of pleasure, at least.

She dropped her gaze and picked at an edge of the bedsheet. “I’m legitimate.”

He choked on his mouthful of whiskey. “What?”

“Evan and the solicitors found a marriage record. It seems Simon and Elinor—my parents—were married in secret. And the housekeeper from Ambervale identified me by my birthmark. So it seems I’m not just a Gramercy, I’m . . .”

Oh, Jesus. Don’t say it.

She lifted her head and looked at him. “I’m a lady.”

The room tilted. Then the walls began to spin around him.

A lady.

“Please don’t look so overset,” she begged. “It won’t change a thing between us.”

A cloud of frustration blurred his vision. She was the legitimate daughter of a marquess. A
lady.
How could that not change everything?

God damn it. It was as though every time he dared to reach for her, some cruel, vengeful deity pulled her just a little further out of his grasp. If he found a way around this hurdle, what would be next? She’d be revealed to be a princess? A mermaid?

“We’re still going to marry and go to America,” she said. “That’s all I want, is to be with you. To be your wife.”

A marquess’s legitimate daughter, living as a trapper’s wife in a humble, rough-hewn cabin. In
Indiana
.

Lady Katherine of the Prairie. Right.

“You’re not angry with me, are you?”

“Angry with
you
? Why would I be angry with you?” Even as he spoke the words, he was aware that they sounded . . . well, angry.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and then exhale slowly.

She was right; it didn’t matter. Not after what they’d just shared. They
must
marry, whether she was a charwoman or a fairy queen. He couldn’t waste time feeling worthless or counting all the ways he wasn’t good enough for her.

Whatever sort of woman she was . . . he had to be the man she needed.

Thorne scrubbed a hand through his hair, trying to fit his brain around the notion.

“Of course you’re a lady,” he said finally. He reached for her hand. “You always were, to me.”

“They haven’t told anyone yet,” she said. “Only the family and the solicitors know. Evan’s made arrangements with Sir Lewis to host a ball at Summerfield next week. It’s supposed to be the Gramercys’ parting gift to Spindle Cove, but they secretly plan to introduce me as their cousin that night. From there, we were meant to go to London.” She reached for his hand. “But I’ll explain to them that we’ve reconciled and plan to marry, as soon as possible.”

He held up a hand for silence and listened. “The rain has slowed. The hour isn’t even that late. We can dress, and I’ll take you down to the rooming house. Then I’ll explain matters to Drewe.”

She paled. “Oh, no. We can’t go to him like this. Not tonight. He has a famous temper. There’s no telling how he’ll react if he knows we’ve—”

“If he’s any sort of man, he’s out searching for you already. They could be pounding at the door any moment.”

“Then I must go.” She scrambled from the bed, wrapping one of the sheets about her torso for modesty.

He rose from the bed as well—making no such modesty attempts. “Katie, I won’t let you walk home alone.”

“You must. Otherwise, it will be obvious what’s happened between us, and Evan would . . .” She pulled her shift over her head. “Samuel, there’s a very real chance he would try to kill you.”

Kill him?
Thorne couldn’t help but chuckle at that. His lordship was welcome to try.

“Just let me break the news gently,” she said. Her fingers worked desperately to do up her buttons. “Please.”

He swore, despising himself for causing her such obvious distress. Of course she wanted to break the news gently, because there was no way in hell a family of aristocrats—no matter how eccentric and unconventional—would rejoice to see their legitimate cousin marry a man like him.

Even he couldn’t rejoice at the idea. The two halves of his being were at war—the half that wanted the best for her, against the half that simply
wanted
her.

He gathered a pair of loose trousers and pulled them on.

“I think I’ll have a little money,” she said, rolling a woolen stocking up her leg and tying it off with a simple garter. “That’s the good news. We can buy ourselves a fair slice of America.”

Smiling, she reached past him to take her frock from the screen. He took the garment from her hands.

“Turn away,” he said. “Arms up.”

He helped her into the frock, taking time with all the buttons and laces. His right hand was still clumsy, so several moments passed.

When he’d finished, he put his hands on her slender waist. “Katie, how can you truly want that life? How can you want me?”

She swiveled to face him. “How could I want anyone else?”

To be sure, she said such sweet things
now
. But in time, he worried she’d come to resent him. A solitary life on the American frontier would give her far too many quiet hours to ponder all she’d left behind. A comfortable, lavish home and every convenience money could purchase. Her pupils, her friends. The family she’d waited her whole life to find.

“You will miss them.”

She nodded. “I will miss them. And I’ll be happy with you. The two conditions can coexist.”

Not knowing what to say without contradicting her, he instead bent his head and took her mouth in a kiss.

What started out tender quickly became passionate, feverish. He clutched her tight against his body and swept his tongue between her lips. She opened to him readily, no hint of shyness or restraint, and he kissed her as deeply as he could. Probing, searching. Desperately seeking the reassurance that would give his guilt-stricken soul some peace.

Convince me. Make me believe I can make you happy.

Light up for me.

When they broke apart, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glassy. But he couldn’t exactly say that she glowed. Damn.

“Samuel, I won’t claim loving you is easy. But it’s scarcely the hardship you’re making it out to be, either.” She stretched to touch his face, rubbing the spot between his eyebrows with a single fingertip. “I want to iron this flat. Stop fretting so.”

“I’m not fretting. Men don’t fret.”

Men acted. If he saw a problem, a real man addressed it. He took bold risks, made life-altering changes.

“I’ll let you go home to the Gramercys tonight,” he said, “on one condition. Don’t tell them anything just yet.”

“But I’ll have to—”

He shushed her by placing two fingertips to her soft pink lips.

“Not a word of this. Not yet.” He caressed her cheek. “I want to ask for you properly. I must speak to Drewe myself, Katie. Man-to-man. You cannot deny me that.”

She swallowed and nodded. “I understand. Will you come down to the village tomorrow?”

He shook his head. “I need to return to London. I need some time to make arrangements first.”

“Will you be long?”

“A few days, that’s all.”

Her eyes shimmered. “Promise you’ll return?”

“You have my word.”

She had his word, his heart, his soul, his life. Always.

And he had a few days. A few days’ time—to change his life and place a wild, reckless wager on the future.

Chapter Twenty-One

K
ate stood before a mirror in the Queen’s Ruby.

Fretting.

It was all very well and good for Samuel to say men didn’t fret. But he was cruel to give her so much reason to fret herself. Nearly a week had passed since their night at the castle, and she hadn’t heard a word. While she had no reason to doubt his intentions, the longer she went without breaking the news to the Gramercys, the more of a liar she felt.

All week long the Gramercys had gone about making plans for Ambervale and Town. Parties they would host, places they would take her to see, people to whom she would be introduced. Kate tried to limit her responses to noncommittal nods and polite smiles, but she knew she was giving them the impression that she meant to come live with them forever.

Now it was the night of the ball. In a matter of hours she would be introduced as Lady Katherine Gramercy to all of Spindle Cove. To be sure, this was not exactly English high society—but word
would
spread to London, and soon. When she eloped to America with an enlisted man just weeks thereafter—wouldn’t that be a public embarrassment for the Gramercys?

And if her connection to the Hothouse ever became public . . . if the gossips of London ever learned that a onetime Marchioness of Drewe had lived as a Southwark opera dancer . . .

That
would be a scandal of the worst order. It could affect the entire family’s standing and destroy Lark’s prospects.

Kate knew she could spare them pain by leaving quietly with Thorne. The inheritance didn’t matter to her. But it must be done before they made her identity public.

She couldn’t wait for Samuel any longer. She needed to speak with Evan, tonight.

She twisted and turned before the small mirror, judging her reflection. The color had been Lark’s suggestion—a lush cobalt-blue silk with a lace overlay in a darker, midnight shade of indigo. The hue seemed rather daring for an unmarried lady, but they wanted her to stand out. And she always felt her best in blue.

“Oh, Kate. Aren’t you lovely.”

Aunt Marmoset entered the room. The older woman was dressed in a long, draped violet gown and matching gloves. An ostrich plume adorned her wispy, upswept hair.

Kate fidgeted with a curl at her temple, trying to arrange it just over her birthmark. “I can’t make this curl cooperate.”

“Let me try.” Aunt Marmoset plucked a hairpin from the dressing table, beckoning Kate to duck her head. “There now.”

Kate stood and looked in the mirror again. Aunt Marmoset had pinned the curl back, smoothing it away from her face entirely.

“Don’t hide the mark, dear. It’s what makes you one of us.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s an old habit, and I can’t help being nervous tonight,” she confessed.

The older woman came to stand beside her in the mirror, sliding an arm about her waist. The ostrich feather barely grazed Kate’s shoulder. “Lark always likes it when I stand beside her,” Aunt Marmoset said. “She says I make her look tall.”

“I don’t know about tall, but I do feel stronger when you’re near.” In the mirror, Kate watched a tentative smile spread across her own face.

“Ah,” said Aunt Marmoset. “I knew your appearance wasn’t quite complete, but I couldn’t place the deficiency. That smile was missing.”

“Thank you for helping me find it.”

“You might wish I hadn’t. I
was
on the verge of giving you this instead.”

Aunt Marmoset unclenched one frail, knobby hand. From it unfurled a slender gold chain. And at the end of the chain dangled a pendant.

The
pendant.

“Oh my goodness,” Kate gasped.

A quick glance toward her mother’s portrait confirmed it. It was the same teardrop of dark blue stone, veined with amber and white. So distinctive, that stone, with its lacy, scalloped layers of light and dark. It reminded her of when Sir Lewis showed the ladies a bit of butterfly wing under a magnifier.

“Where did this come from?” Kate asked, amazed.

“I asked the servants to pack my jewelry from Ambervale and send it down for the ball. Evidently, the maid found this hidden away in the dressing table and assumed it was mine. But it isn’t mine at all, is it? It’s yours.”

“How wonderful.”

“Let’s have it on.” Aunt Marmoset fixed the chain about Kate’s neck.

Kate turned to view it in the mirror. The indigo-blue pendant dangled just at her breastbone.

“It’s lovely,” Aunt Marmoset said.

“It’s a miracle.” Kate turned to the older woman and, bending low, kissed her on the cheek. “Your kindness is worth more to me than any jewelry, Aunt Marmoset. I don’t think I’ve thanked you properly for helping me feel at home in this family, but—”

“Bosh.” Aunt Marmoset waved off the remark. “You
are
at home in the Gramercy family. When will you accept that?”

I don’t know, Kate thought. I don’t know.

In her heart, she did believe that she was Katherine Adele Gramercy. She also knew herself to be the daughter of an unfortunate Southwark prostitute, as well as an impoverished orphan who’d been raised as the ward of a school. Perhaps all these things
could
eventually be reconciled into one existence, but . . .

But mostly, she was just a girl named Kate, in love for the first time in her life.

She loved Samuel. She missed him, terribly.

From the corridor, a call went up. “The carriages, ladies! They’re here.”

As they emerged into the corridor, Kate was startled by the sight of a ravishing woman in red emerging from a side room. She was quite sure she’d never seen this lady before. Her dark hair was piled high in a profusion of sensual curls. A thick rope of gold and rubies encircled her elegant neck.

The woman turned.

Kate gasped with recognition. “Harry? Harry, is that truly you?”

Her cousin smiled. “Of course, dear. Did you think I’d wear trousers to your grand introduction ball?”

“I wouldn’t ask you to be anyone but yourself,” Kate said, hoping her cousin would feel the same toward her.

Harry shrugged. Her ruby-red lips curved in a seductive smile. “I do enjoy a lavish gown on occasion. Sometimes I like to remind them all just what it is they’re missing.”

Lark appeared at her sister’s side, looking fresh and pretty in diaphanous white.

“Oh, Lark. I didn’t know if you’d be joining us, since you’re not yet out.”

The young lady smiled and blushed. “Evan’s making an exception tonight. So long as I don’t dance.”

Their loyalty was so touching. Look at all they’d done for her, Kate thought, tonight alone. Harry had put on a gown, and Lark was willing to undercut the excitement of her own debut. All this, at the end of a summer holiday they’d completely rearranged for the sake of spending time with her.

Little did they suspect that she was planning to bid them farewell in a matter of days. Forever. Would the Gramercys be able to understand her reasons for leaving, or would they feel betrayed?

She’d miss them, no question. But she had to be with Samuel, and he couldn’t stay here in England. He needed open land and the sort of opportunities England couldn’t—or wouldn’t—afford a man of low birth and criminal background. After the way he’d suffered, it was her turn to make the sacrifices, and she would do so gladly.

She owed that man everything.
Everything.
If not for him . . .

She couldn’t bear to contemplate her life if not for him.

Samuel, where are you?

Instead, it was Evan who stood in the Queen’s Ruby entryway, watching them come down the stairs. He pressed a hand to his chest and pretended to stumble. “What a stunning collection of ladies.”

Evan was rather stunning himself. Dressed in a black tailcoat and a waistcoat of embroidered gold silk, he looked every inch the marquess. And his black gloves . . . My, but the man always had
the
most elegant, exquisitely fitted gloves. They made his hands look ready for all manner of deeds—charitable, sensual, ruthless.

As Kate reached the bottom of the stairs, he offered her an arm. “All the other ladies have gone ahead in Sir Lewis’s carriages. There’s just the two family coaches left.”

They walked out into the front garden. Indeed, the two coaches emblazoned with the Drewe crest stood waiting at attention, drawn by perfectly matched teams of warmbloods.

Evan handed Aunt Marmoset, Harry, and Lark into the first of the coaches, then signaled the driver to be on his way.

“Will it be just the two of us, then?” she asked, surprised.

“Do you mind?” He handed her into the second coach, then followed and sat opposite on the rear-facing bench, out of deference to her skirts. “I was hoping we could talk alone. Before the ball.”

“Oh,” Kate said as the carriage rolled into motion. “Oh, good. I was hoping the same.”

He smiled. “I’m glad we’re in accord.”

“I’ve been thinking—”

They both uttered the words at once, speaking over each other. And then they both laughed.

He motioned with his gloved hand. “Please. You first.”

“Evan, I’m not sure you should announce me as your cousin tonight.”

He was silent for several moments, and Kate was sure she’d ruined everything.

“I agree,” he finally said.

“You do?”

“I’d prefer to introduce you as my future wife.”

Pure astonishment stole Kate’s breath. “What?”

“That’s the reason I wanted this time alone. I meant to ask you to marry me.”

“But why? You can’t be—” She tried again. “Evan, you don’t seem to have those kind of feelings for me.”

“I’m very fond of you, Kate. We have interests in common, and we get on well. If I didn’t think we could make a happy life together, I would never suggest it.”

“But there’s something else,” she intuited. “Some other reason you’re proposing now.”

“I won’t insult you with a denial.” He leaned toward her. “Kate, I’ve told you there would be an inheritance.”

She nodded.

“But I haven’t told you the precise size of that inheritance.”

“Well, what size is it?” She scanned his worried expression. “Precisely?”

He looked her in the eye. “You’ll have everything, Kate. Everything. I’ll keep Rook’s Fell—the one entailed property that comes with the marquessate. Aside from that, the entire Gramercy family fortune is yours. Eight properties. Several hundred thousand pounds.”

Kate gripped the edge of the seat. “But . . . I don’t want all that. What would I even do with such wealth? A fortune like that is a full-time occupation, and you’re the one who has always managed everything.” She blinked hard. “What of Harry’s income? Lark’s dowry? Aunt Marmoset’s living?”

“All yours as well. I set the money aside in trusts, but they’ll no longer be valid. Legally, the money was never mine to give away.”

“Oh dear. Oh, Evan.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So now you understand, this is the quandary that’s kept me up nights.”

“Seething,” she whispered.

“Yes, seething.” He lowered his hand and gave her a bittersweet smile. “I will no longer make pretensions otherwise. I have been exceedingly worried over the future of the family. Not for myself, but for my siblings. The Gramercys have always been a queer lot, but we’ve been wealthy enough that we’re forgiven our eccentricities.”

“And that won’t be the case anymore.”

Kate was no solicitor, but she understood Evan’s dilemma. If she married Thorne, the entire fortune would be out of Gramercy hands. Evan would have no means to protect and support his family. They would all be her dependents—or if she married him, Thorne’s.

That
would be an awkward situation.

“If I’d only known about you,” he said, staring out the window. “We had other properties from my mother’s side. Foreign land holdings, mostly. In India, the West Indies. But then Bennett went to view them, and he came back . . . changed. I sold all the land at a loss years ago, wanting nothing more to do with plantations or slaving. The land here in England was more than enough, I thought.”

“You thought right,” Kate said. “You did right. And you needn’t fear. I won’t abandon you. We’ll find some way. Can’t I just refuse the inheritance, or give it all back?”

He smiled. “It’s not that easy, I’m afraid.”

“What if I went away?” This might be the answer to both their problems. She could go to America with Thorne, and Evan would remain the head of the family. “I could leave the country. Or stay here in Spindle Cove. No one needs to know I exist.”

“
I
will know you exist. We all know, and it wouldn’t be right. Kate, I want to secure my siblings’ future, but I refuse to destroy our souls in the process. We can’t simply deny your existence. To do so would be to deny your parents’ love for each other, to deny their love for you. You can’t want that.”

No. She supposed she didn’t.

“We wouldn’t want that, either,” Evan went on. “And what’s more, Kate, the solicitors know about you. Legal proceedings have been set in motion. If you were to disappear now . . . we’d have to wait seven years with everything tied up in court, and then petition to have you declared dead.” He made a grimace. “So please don’t think of it.”

“But it’s just so unfair,” she said. “You’ve been so generous and welcoming to me, and now you must pay this terrible price.”

“You are the one who has suffered unjustly,” he argued. “Never think otherwise.”

“Did you know all along? Even when you first came to find me, did you know that I could be taking the entire fortune?”

He nodded. “I suspected.”

“But you came to find me anyway. With no hesitation.”

“Yes, of course.” His intelligent brow lifted. “Family above everything. That’s the Gramercy way.”

He was so very decent and good, and under different circumstances, she should have been overjoyed to marry a man like him. But she was in love with Samuel. She was committed to Samuel. She’d been intimate with Samuel. There was no way she could marry Evan now.

He took her hand. “Kate, if you’ll marry me, I swear—I will devote everything to giving you the life you deserve. The life you always deserved. And together, we will help our family.” He gave her a half-joking smile. “If you won’t have me, I’ll be forced to pursue some obnoxious heiress with social-climbing parents.”