A Lady by Midnight (24 page)

But would he be able to find social-climbing parents who’d eagerly support unconventional Harry, or decrepit Aunt Marmoset, or Bennett, off wandering the Hindu Kush? And poor Lark, losing her dowry just months from her debut.

Kate cast a desperate glance out the carriage window as they pulled up in the Summerfield drive. This was intolerable. To have found her family after all this time, to feel so loved and accepted by them . . . only to destroy their lives and happiness?

“So,” he said, preparing to exit the carriage, “which will it be? At midnight, will I be introducing you as Lady Kate? Or may I introduce you as the future Lady Gramercy?”

“Evan, I—”

“You need some time,” he finished for her. “Of course, I understand. I’ll come find you before the midnight set.”

And then he was out of the carriage and extending his hand to help her alight, and there was no privacy to discuss it any longer. Before them, the golden candlelit splendor of the Summerfield great hall beckoned. They were being watched by many sets of curious eyes.

“Smile,” he whispered, offering his arm. “And be happy. This is your night.”

A
s she entered the Summerfield ballroom, Kate scanned every corner and alcove of the hall. Her heart skipped every time she caught a flash of red. There was one militiaman she was particularly hoping, against all odds, to see.

She didn’t find him, but she found the next best thing.

“Kate!”

“It’s us. Over here.”

She whirled on the heel of her slipper, heartened by the familiar voices.

“Susanna. Minerva. Oh, it’s so good to see you.” She embraced her friends warmly. Until Susanna’s arms went around her, Kate couldn’t have realized how desperately she needed a hug.

She could use some friendly advice, as well.

“I’d no idea you’d be here.” She looked from one friend to the other—Susanna, now Lady Rycliff, with her flame-red hair and freckles, and Minerva, the darker, bespectacled middle Highwood sister, recently married to Lord Payne.

“We all came down from London together,” Susanna said. “Papa was growing desperate to see his first grandchild.”

Minerva added, “And I knew I couldn’t deprive Mama of her new son-in-law much longer, either. But in truth, it was our husbands who suggested we make the trip.”

“Truly?” Kate asked, incredulous. “Lord Rycliff and Lord Payne
wanted
to come? To Spindle Cove?”

“I think they secretly miss this place, though they’d never let on,” Minerva said.

Susanna winced a little.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Oh, nothing. I’m just a bit achy, that’s all. When the baby hasn’t nursed for a few hours, it’s uncomfortable.” She looked to the ceiling. “Perhaps I’ll just slip upstairs to the nursery.”

“Can we come with you?” Kate asked. “I’m dying to meet little Victoria myself, and . . . and I’d very much appreciate the chance to talk.”

“S
he’s so beautiful,” Kate whispered. “Her hair is just like yours.”

“This is the only time she’s quiet,” Susanna said, gazing down at her suckling babe. “Unless her father is holding her. Bram has some secret method of calming her that he refuses to share, the impossible man.”

“I’m so glad Colin’s happy to wait on the childbearing score,” Minerva said. “He’s recently taken control of his estate. I’ve so many scholarly works in progress. We’re not at all ready for parenthood.”

“But, Min, how . . .” Kate lowered her voice. “How can you be sure you won’t conceive?”

“Well, one can never be completely sure. But we take precautions. Colin’s had some experience on the male side of things. You see, when a man spends his seed—”

Susanna gave her friend a look. “Min,” she whispered, “perhaps we could save the specifics for another occasion.”

“Right,” Minerva said apologetically. “You know me, I speak of natural topics at all manner of inappropriate times. Anyhow, Kate—there are ways. Susanna’s given me some herbs. Those help, too.”

“How clever of you both,” Kate said.

She was glad for Samuel’s caution the other night. It wasn’t as though she disliked the idea of bearing his child. Nothing would make her happier, someday. Thinking of him as a father, cradling a tiny babe in the crook of his arm . . . it made her heart float. But with so much uncertainty now with the Gramercys, a pregnancy would be ill-timed.

Especially since the father of the child had disappeared.

“Kate, what’s wrong?” Susanna asked. “You look so troubled.”

Kate paused, biting her lip. And then she took a deep breath and told them everything. All about the Gramercys. All about Thorne. The portrait, the melon, the snakebite, the inheritance, her night with Samuel, and Evan’s proposal just now in the coach. Everything.

“My goodness, Kate,” said Minerva, adjusting her spectacles. “You’ve been busy.”

Kate laughed at the absurdity of the statement, and it felt so good. This was what she’d been needing—her best, closest friends to listen and help her see everything clear. Susanna and Minerva would not be on Thorne’s side, or the Gramercys’ side.

They were on her side, unequivocally.

“I always knew that someday you’d have your fairy tale,” Susanna said. She called in the nursemaid and handed her the now-sleeping babe. “I didn’t predict
this,
of course. But we all adored you so. I knew you couldn’t go unnoticed for long.”

“I never did go unnoticed,” she said. “Not really.”

Samuel had noticed her, even that very first day in the Bull and Blossom, when she pulled her India shawl tight around her shoulders and turned the other way. He’d always been looking out for her, asking nothing in return.

She cast a wistful glance at the darkened windowpane. Where was he now?

“I don’t know what to do,” she said. “Samuel has vanished. The Gramercys are depending on me to save them all. Evan wants to know whether he can introduce me as Lady Kate or his soon-to-be Lady Gramercy. Meanwhile, I feel like a maid who pilfered her mistress’s gown and stole into the ball. I don’t know how I’ll manage as a lady of any sort.”

“The same way we do,” Minerva said. “Look at Susanna and me. A year ago we were confirmed spinsters, never the belle of any ball. Now she is Lady Rycliff and I am Lady Payne. And we may be a bit awkward in the roles, but society will just have to struggle on despite it.”

“We’ll form our own club, Kate. The League of Unlikely Ladies.” Susanna came to sit beside her. “As for what you should do . . . I’m certain you already know, in your heart.”

Of course she did. She loved Samuel and wanted nothing more than to be his wife. But if at all possible, she must find some way to help the Gramercys, too. They were her family, and she couldn’t abandon them.

Minerva bent over and stared Kate in the bosom. “I’m admiring your pendant.”

“Do you know what sort of stone it is?” Kate asked eagerly. “I’ve been wondering, but I’d never seen its like.”

“This is an easy identification.” After peering for a moment through her spectacles, Minerva released the teardrop-shaped stone. “It’s called blue john. A form of fluorite. Quite a rare formation, only found in one small area of Derbyshire.”

Kate clutched the pendant. “It was my mother’s. She was from Derbyshire. She must have worn it always to remind herself of home.”

How strange, then, that Elinor would have left it behind at Ambervale. Perhaps she’d worried it would be lost during travel.

Minerva patted her arm. “Kate, I don’t think you should worry overmuch. I have a strong suspicion your problems will work themselves out, and in hasty fashion.”

“I hope you’re right,” Kate said. But despite her natural bent for optimism, this was one situation where she had a difficult time seeing an easy solution.

“Well,” Susanna said, standing. “I suppose we’ve hidden ourselves up here as long as we dare. We had better go find our men before they create some mischief.”

“This is a Summerfield ball,” Kate agreed. “There seems to be something in the ratafia that makes male passions . . . explosive.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

T
horne’s patience was nearing the end of its fuse.

Tucked away in the Egyptian-themed library of Sir Lewis Finch, he paced a small square of carpet, patrolling back and forth. His new boots pinched his feet. His starched cuffs chafed his wrists. Sheer agony was his companion.

And the agony had a name: Colin Sandhurst, Viscount Payne.

“Let me give you a bit of advice,” Payne said.

“I don’t want any more of your advice. Not on this.”

“You don’t want to admit you want it,” Payne replied smoothly. “But I shall talk to myself, and you can merely be nearby, not listening.”

Thorne rolled his eyes. He’d spent the better part of the past several days “nearby,
not
listening” to Payne. Through shopping trips, appointments with solicitors, lessons on . . . an activity Thorne hated to acknowledge in thought, let alone speak aloud.

Payne tossed back a swallow of his drink and propped one boot on an inscribed sarcophagus. “Before I found Minerva, I’d passed nights with more than my share of women.”

Thorne groaned.
Don’t. Just don’t.

“I’ve passed time with duchesses and farm girls, and it doesn’t matter whether their skirts are silk or homespun. Once you get them bare—”

Thorne drew up short. “If you start in on rivers of silk and alabaster orbs, I
will
have to hit you.”

“Easy, Cinderella,” Payne said, holding up his hands. “All I meant to say is this. Beneath the trappings, all women crave the same thing.”

Thorne made a fist and clenched it until his knuckles cracked.

“What? I’m speaking of tenderness.”

From his chair behind the desk, Bram rubbed his temple. “I think what my cousin is trying to say is, just because she’s Lady Katherine Gramercy now and not Miss Taylor, that doesn’t mean that she’s changed inside.”

Thorne resumed pacing. Perhaps he shouldn’t have told them everything. He’d needed their help, but he hated that they
knew
he needed it. Feeling weak wasn’t something he was accustomed to, and he didn’t like it. His impulse was to crash through the doors, find his Katie, pick her up in his arms, and carry her away someplace warm and small and safe.

But he couldn’t take her away. That was the whole point of tonight. She had a family now. Not only a family, but a place among the English peerage.

This new life of hers . . . it meant she could never be entirely his. No matter the promises she made about leaving everything behind and sailing with him for America, he knew it couldn’t work that way. As a Gramercy, she was part of a family. As the daughter of a marquess, she would have obligations and duties here. As a lady, she would always be above him—the reminder of it would sit before her name on every letter she received or penned.

He didn’t
want
to share her. But he must, if he wanted to be a part of her new life. Most of all, he was utterly resolved: He would not bring shame to her, ever.

So tonight he was pacing the library carpet, waiting for his chance. He was hardly Cinderella, but at least he’d wedged his scarred body and ashen soul into a smart new outfit.

From behind the desk, Bram regarded Thorne. “I can’t believe you went to my cousin.”

I can’t believe it, either.

“If you needed anything, Thorne, I would have helped. You need only have asked.”

“You’re busy.”

Payne smiled wryly. “Yes, and I was only on my honeymoon. I had nothing better to do than scrub up a noble savage, take him shopping, and teach him to dance.”

“What?” Bram looked at Thorne in astonishment. “No.”

Thorne turned away.

Bram’s smug inquiries pursued him. “You
danced
? And Colin gave you lessons?”

“You act as though the pleasure should be mine,” Payne said. “It was rather a trial on my part, I’ll have you know. But thanks to my darling wife’s influence, I’m learning to embrace my academic duty. I’ve long been a scholar of the female sex. Since I’m now happily married and devoted to one particular woman, it would be miserly of me to hoard such accumulated knowledge for myself.”

“No doubt.” Bram laughed. To Thorne, he said, “Good God. If you put up with this for a week, you must really love that girl.”

Payne resumed his suave, professorial demeanor. “It’s like this, Thorne. If you mean to ask for a woman’s heart, you have to be willing to take risks of your own. Real ones. Not just dancing lessons.”

Thorne set his jaw. He’d given up his home for Katie. He’d spent years hungry in the countryside, then hungry in prison, then hungry and marching in the army. “I’ve sacrificed for her. I’ve given her as much as a man like me can give.”

Payne chuckled. “You may think so. But they want everything, man. You can empty your pockets and lay down your body, and they still won’t be satisfied. Not until you serve up your heart, still beating.”

Bram sighed. “Once again, I will translate for my cousin. Just tell Miss Taylor you love her. That’s all they really want to hear.”

Love.
It all kept coming back to that word. It would be easy enough to tell Katie he loved her. Speaking the words wasn’t any great task. But to tell her so in a way that made them both believe it . . . that was the challenge.

“Did you want to practice again?” Payne asked.

“No.”

“I don’t mind taking the lady’s part. I’m secure enough in my masculinity.”

“I said
no
.”

Payne straightened his cravat. “Really, Thorne. I’m only trying to help. ‘No, thank you’ might be more polite.”

“Etiquette isn’t my strong point.”

“Yes, but that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? It’s why you came to me for help. If you mean to win that woman—that
lady
—and make her your wife, you’ll have to make it your strong point. And quickly.”

Thorne shushed him. The small orchestra had struck up a new tune, and he strained to hear.

“That’s the waltz,” Payne confirmed. “You’re on.”

Bram clapped Thorne on the shoulder. “Go to it, then.”

“No pressure,” Payne said. “It’s only your one chance at happiness, you know. It’s only the rest of your life.”

Thorne cut him a glare as he shouldered open the door. “Not helping.”

As he made his way through the connecting door and down the short stretch of corridor to the ballroom, nerves danced in his gut. But once he spied her at the opposite end, all his anxiety disappeared—replaced by awe.

He hadn’t laid eyes on her in nearly a week.

And he’d never seen her looking like this.

Good God, she was beautiful. She stood in profile to him, deep in conversation with Minerva Highwood, the new Lady Payne. He stopped in his paces a moment, just to drink in the sight of her. And to remember how to breathe.

She wore deep blue silk, the color of fathomless oceans and dark night skies. Set off by the lush fabric, her shoulders were smooth, pale perfection. Tiny brilliants spangled her dark, upswept hair, and satin gloves sheathed her arms to the elbow. He heard the sparkling melody of her laughter float high above the music.

She was too elegant for him, too beautiful for words.

But he’d come this far. He would dare to ask for her anyway.

He started to move. The crowd shifted around him. Across the hall, Katie shifted her weight and swept the room with an unfocused gaze. She looked right through him, with no hint of recognition—then went back to her conversation.

He strode toward her, moving with purpose now.

When he’d covered half the distance, her eyes darted to him again. Once, fleetingly. Then a second time, narrowing. As though she were trying to place him. The wrinkle of her brow was one of mild concern. He could almost hear her thoughts. Who was that hulking, overdressed brute across the ballroom, staring her down?

God. She didn’t know him.

It’s me, Katie. You know me.

Their gazes connected. He felt it in his bones, the moment recognition struck. That sweet jolt of affinity shot down his spine.

Then a waltzing couple twirled between them, blocking his view.

Damn it.

Damn, damn, damn.
He had to see her reaction. That was his entire purpose in coming here and making an entrance. How would she greet him? Would it happen this time, at long last?

By the time the waltzers passed, the whole crowd had shifted. He pushed his way through the throng, scanning for her. His heart pounded so fiercely, he thought it would burst.

“Samuel!”

He turned on his boot heel.

There she was, poised on tiptoe, her neck elongated like a swan’s, the better to call over the crowd.

He changed course, veering for her. And stopped, two paces away.

Waiting, with his heart in his throat, to see if she’d light up for him.

She didn’t glow. Her eyes didn’t twinkle. No small flame of joy flickered to life behind her expression.

No, this was so much better than that. It made everything worthwhile—not just the past week, but the lifetime before it.

She went incandescent with the brilliance of a thousand fiery stars.

“S
amuel. It’s you.”

Kate struggled to compose herself. He had a lot of nerve, keeping her waiting all this time and then showing up looking like
this.
He was still his unbearably handsome self, only . . . he was more.

More, in every way.

She could have sworn his new, fashionable Hessians made him a full inch taller. The tight fit of his black tailcoat made his shoulders look a touch more broad. She couldn’t begin to articulate what the clinging buff breeches did for his thighs, or she might suffer an attack of light-headedness.

His hair was clipped with precision, glossed with a touch of pomade. Even from an arm’s length he smelled wonderful—like leather and cologne and clean linen, blended with the essence of raw, manly strength.

Most of all, there was an air about him. It wasn’t quite elegance or refinement, but perhaps . . . self-possession. Purpose. Oh, his face was still hard, and his eyes remained chips of ice. But beneath it all, there was fire.

“Might I have this dance?” he asked. So suavely. The velvet darkness of his voice sent a thrill coursing all the way to her toes.

“I suppose you may.”

What was this game they were playing? Were they supposed to pretend they didn’t know one another? All she wanted to do was fly into his arms.

But she put her hand in his. As he led her to the dance floor, her heart fluttered.

They faced one another, and he fit his hand between her shoulder blades. The expression on his face was so stern.

“You look magnificent,” she whispered. “So handsome.”

She waited for him to compliment her gown or her hair, but she waited in vain. The expression on his face was both intent and somehow uncertain. What did it mean?

“I’ve missed you so much.”

He swung her into the waltz. They moved through several bars of the dance, haltingly. He never said a word.

“Samuel, are you . . . Have you changed your mind?”

He blinked. “About what?”

“About me.”

He frowned at her, as if chiding her for the question. “No.”

She waited for further assurances. He didn’t give them. Her heart began to pound. She didn’t know what it was, but something was wrong.

“If you don’t want to be here,” she said, “I don’t want to force you.”

He made no reply. Except to curtly sigh with impatience and stare at the orchestra.

“Won’t you speak to me? I’ve been waiting for you all week. Hoping all night. I couldn’t believe you would leave me feeling so abandoned, and now you’re finally here—”

“I’ve been here for hours.”

“Then why did you take so long to come find me? Were you ashamed? Uncertain?” Her voice broke. “At least look at me.”

He came to a halt. “Blast. I can’t do this.” He looked about the room, his eyes searching out every possible exit. “We need to talk somewhere, alone.”

Kate struggled to keep her worst fears tightly leashed, but they had tenacity. And sharp teeth.

Perhaps her new identity as a lady was too much for him. Maybe he’d decided he couldn’t be part of her life.

“This way,” he said.

She followed him out the nearest set of doors and down a long paneled corridor, until they passed into Sir Lewis’s famed medieval hall, where the aging antiquarian’s collection of arms and armor was most impressively displayed.

“It’s quiet here,” he said. “And safe.”

Kate supposed it was. On either side of the long, narrow hall a half-dozen suits of ancient armor stood sentry. Like an escort of Arthurian knights, solemnly standing guard on either side of a plush, rose-red carpet.

A pair of wall sconces at either end provided the hall’s only illumination. Candlelight quietly gleamed off the polished suits of centuries-old armor, limning the edges of their swords and the points of their staves.

The setting was either wildly romantic or vaguely threatening.

Samuel motioned for her to sit on a bench nestled into an alcove. The cool stone beneath her thighs made her shiver.

He sat next to her. “Katie, you have to let me explain.”

“Please do. If you’ve been here at Summerfield for hours, why didn’t you come to me at once? Why did you make me wait all night?”

“You want the truth?”

“Always.”

“Because I can’t dance. I only had time to learn the waltz. I couldn’t come claim you for the gavotte or the sarabande. I had to stand in the library like a damned fool and wait for the orchestra to play the one dance I knew.”

Her heart twisted in her chest. “Oh.”

“And I couldn’t even manage it. For Christ’s sake, it shouldn’t be more difficult than marching, should it? Payne told me not to stare at my feet, but . . .”

“Oh, Samuel.”

“But you looked so lovely. Every thought went right out of my head.”

Now everything made sense. This explained his stern, uncertain expression and his refusal to speak or look at her. He’d been trying so hard to keep step with the dance, he hadn’t been able to spare concentration for niceties.