Elizabeth Mansfield (12 page)

Aunt Letty, sensing drama in the air, promptly excused herself and went up to bed. Kit suddenly felt uncomfortable and bowed his good night, but Caro held him back. “Can you spare me a moment or two, Mr. Terence?” she asked. “There’s something of import I’d like to say to you.”

“Of course,” he replied, and followed her into the drawing room.

To his surprise she closed the door. “Please sit down,” she said nervously.

He sat uneasily on the edge of a wing chair. “Is something amiss, ma’am?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She sat down on the sofa opposite him and faced him squarely. “Don’t you think it strange that, after all the hours we’ve spent in each other’s company, you still call me ma’am?”

He blinked in surprise. “I didn’t think ... do you wish me to call you Caroline? You never suggested before that I should.”

“How could I, when you seem to be content with
my
calling
you
Mr. Terence?”

“Oh, I see.” He threw her a grin. “Is that what’s made you so Friday-faced? It’s just that I don’t particularly like my given name. Marcus, ugh! It makes me sound a dreadful grind.”

“Not at all,” she said, not returning his grin. “I rather like it.”

‘Then use it, by all means. I should very much enjoy calling you Caroline.”

“I’m Caro to my friends,” she said, still frowning at him.

“If you mean by that that you number me among your friends, I’m honored.”

The remark made her wince. It was not the response she wished for. It was too correct, too formal and distant; what she wanted was some sign of intimacy. He’d be honored to be her friend, bah! Dash it, she asked herself, doesn’t he want more?

Evidently he didn’t, for he was rising from his chair and looking down at her with a smile of relief. “If that was all that’s troubling you, ma’am ... I mean, Caro—”

“No,” she snapped, “that’s not all.”

His expression changed to sincere surprise. “Then what is it?’

She took a deep breath. “You must promise that you will answer me honesdy, no matter how difficult it may be. The one virtue that I prize above all is honesty.”

His heart sank. Honesty was the one virtue he didn’t have, at least not in his dealings with her. “I’ll try,” he said, discomfited.

She dropped her eyes awkwardly. “This ... what I want to ask ... is not easy. If I had a father, he would surely have had this conversation with you in my place.”

Kit was utterly bewildered. “A father?”

“Yes. Don’t fathers always ask a girl’s suitors what their intentions are?”

The question struck him like a blow. “
Suitors?
”

“You
are
a suitor, are you not? You’ve been calling on me every day for more than a fortnight. Isn’t that what suitors do?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never ... that is, I hadn’t thought ...”

She turned quite pale. “You hadn’t thought of being a suitor? Are you saying that it never occurred to you ... ?”

He sank down on the sofa beside her, his brain whirling in confusion. A suitor? Is that what she thought? The truth was that it hadn’t occurred to him that she might interpret his attentions as a sign that he was seeking her hand in marriage. How could he be a suitor for her hand while he was playing the role of someone else? He couldn’t ask her to wed Mr. Terence, who didn’t even exist! All he’d thought about, until this moment, was that he wanted to break her resistance to his real self. When she’d forgiven him for being Kit Meredith—if that ever happened—there would be time, then, to think of other things. But not yet. First things had to come first.

He stared down at her whitened face, unable to speak. How could he have been so stupid? He’d led her to believe his purpose was something far from what it really was. She wanted honesty, and that’s what he’d never given her. He should have told her the truth earlier. He’d made that mistake the first day he met her, and now he’d done it again. He’d waited too long to tell the truth. “Caro, I ... never meant ...”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You never intended to ... to court me?”

“Please don’t look at me that way,” he muttered, agonized. “You don’t understand!”

She swallowed. “There doesn’t seem to be anything else to understand,” she said slowly. She believed she understood it all. He’d enjoyed her companionship but obviously had not even
considered
anything more. She’d foolishly assumed that he felt as she did, but now that she realized it was not so, her female pride suffered a mortal blow. Humiliated, she rose from the seat. “You m-must excuse me, sir,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned and, head lowered, made for the door. “You can let yourself out. You know the w-way.”

“Caro, wait!” He was on his feet and at her side in three quick strides. He grasped her arms and forced her to face him. “You’ve got to let me ...” he began. But the sight of her eyes looking up at him tightened his throat. Those wonderful, gold-flecked eyes that said so much, what were they saying now? They were wide with pain and mortification and ... something else. But he could not let himself read what that something was, for it was meant for Marcus Terence, not for him.

She, waiting for words that did not come, tried to wrench her arms free. “Dash it all, Mr. Terence, let me go!”

She was very close to him, her breath rapid, her lips apart and trembling, her skin irresistibly smooth and pale against the dark of her low-cut gown. As his eyes roamed over her a flush suffused her breast and slowly rose up over her throat to her face. It seemed to him that she’d never been so utterly desirable as at this moment. The sight of her filled him with an ache so overwhelming that he committed his worst sin yet—he pulled her into his arms. He stared down for a moment at her astonished face and pressed his mouth to hers.

To kiss her had been the farthest thing from his mind. He knew it was a dreadful mistake. But now that he’d done it, he couldn’t stop. He suddenly felt as if this, not her good opinion, was what he’d been seeking all along. Every part of his body responded to the sensation of holding her close. It was as if he’d been parched, and she was the water he needed. He tightened his hold and drank her in hungrily. He’d kissed a number of women in his time, but none of those experiences had prepared him for the urgency and deep desire he now felt.

She, too startled to resist, let herself respond. But even while her limbs turned to water, and her breast lifted itself to him, and her arms crept up over his shoulders, and her hands clasped themselves tightly at the back of his neck, and her lips softened against the steely pressure of his, her mind told her there was something wrong. This kiss made no sense; it didn’t follow what had gone before. Where had it come from?

“Oh, God!” he muttered when he let her go. Shaken by the unexpected strength of his desire, he couldn’t speak. He knew that everything he was doing was wrong. After his thoughtlessness in not anticipating her expectations, he’d now indulged himself in an act of unforgivable lust. How could he expect her to forgive him? And if she wouldn’t forgive him for
this,
how could he expect her to forgive his other heinous crime—his lie about his very identity? What would she feel about what he’d just done when she realized that he was the man she disliked most in the world?

She was gazing up at him, her mouth swollen and her breath coming in short gasps. She didn’t know what to make of his behavior. After all his evasiveness, after finally admitting that he had no intention of courting her, he’d taken her into an embrace that could only be described as shattering. “What did that
mean?
”
she asked in bewilderment.

He ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of desperation. “I don’t know. I lost my head. I’m ... sorry.”

“
Sorry?
”
The word brought a pain to her chest so sharp she had to press her hand against it.

“I’ve made a dreadful muddle—”

She put up a hand to stop him. “Please don’t say anything more,” she ordered. “Every word you utter only increases my mortification.”

“Caro, I couldn’t—”

“Please, Mr. Terence, just
go!
”

Perhaps that’s what he ought to do, he thought. She was distraught, and so was he. The wisest thing to do might be to retreat. He would come back tomorrow and make a clean breast of everything. For now, it was probably best to let matters cool. He went to the door.

“Mr. Terence?”

He turned around. “Marcus,” he reminded her.

“Mr. Terence.” She was standing erect, her hands clenched at her sides. “I think it would be best if you did not call again.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again. He’d made such a mull of everything tonight that he doubted he could succeed with any argument he might offer now. A good military officer knew when it was time to surrender. With a sigh of defeat, he made a silent bow and left the room.

Tomorrow, he promised himself as he closed the door behind him. I’ll surely do better tomorrow. It’s certain I couldn’t do worse.

SIXTEEN

Kit spent all night in an agonizing review of the circumstances of his relationship with Caroline Whitlow. He could only conclude that everything was his own fault. The words she’d said last night rang in his ears:
The virtue I prize above all others is honesty.
Yet he’d been anything but honest.

By morning he’d decided what to do. He’d tell Caro the truth at once. It was his procrastination that had started this proliferation of blunders. If only he’d given her his true name on that day when he’d saved her from the runaway horses, he might not have found himself in his present predicament.

And it was a predicament—the worst one yet. Before, it had been only Kit Meredith she refused to see. Now it was Kit
and
the deuced Mr. Terence. How was he to set things straight if he couldn’t get to see her?

There was only one way, and he took it. Promptly at three, when he knew the family would be gathered for tea, he appeared at the door, brushed by Melton, and burst in on them.

All four—Caro, Letty, and the two boys—were seated round a small tea table in various attitudes of gloom. But Kit’s abrupt entrance caused every head to turn in his direction. “Good afternoon,” he said pleasantly.

“Ki—Mr. Terence!” Letty cried, her eyes lighting up.

The two boys also brightened. “How do y’ do, Mr. Terence,” Gilbert greeted.

“Have you come for tea?” Arthur asked, jumping up to get him a chair.

“Sit down, Arthur,” Caro ordered, rising like an angry goddess from the deep. “Mr. Terence has made a mistake and is about to leave. I think he’s forgotten that he is not welcome.”

“Not welcome?” Letty exclaimed. “Caro, what ... ?”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Kit said, his eyes fixed on Caro’s face. “I know I forced my way in, but I had no choice. There’s something I must tell you.”

Letty, who’d guessed from Caro’s black mood that matters had not gone well after she’d retired last night, gave Kit a warning look. “Perhaps, my boy, this is not best time—”

“The best time, I’m afraid, is long past,” he said bluntly.

Letty, alarmed, pushed back her chair and threw the two boys a pointed glance. “Then, my dear boys, perhaps we should leave your sister and Mr. Terence alone to—”

“You will not leave!” Caro declared furiously. “It’s Mr. Terence who will leave.”

Kit ignored her. “You needn’t go,” he said calmly to his aunt. “I won’t be saying anything you and the boys can’t be privy to. You may as well stay and hear my—”

“I shall call Melton and the footmen and have you thrown into the street!” Caro threatened between clenched teeth.

“You needn’t bother,” he retorted. “By the time they’d accomplish it, I’d have said my say.”

But she would not listen. “Melton!” she shouted, stalking toward the doorway.

Melton, however, was already there. He was looking past her to the interloper. “Someone’s here to see you, my lo—Mr. Terence,” he said, coloring in confusion. “He wouldn’t give me a moment to explain—”

A stocky fellow in army breeches and a soldier’s cap loomed up in the doorway behind the butler and now burst into the room. “Praise be, Cap’n,” he said, “
here
ye are! I’ve tracked ye down at last.”

“Mickley!” Kit gasped. “What on earth ... ?”

“I been searchin’ fer ye everywhere. Damnation, Cap’n, ye should’ve left me yer direction. I had the devil of a time.”

“Yes, but what’s amiss?” Kit demanded worriedly.

“Bad news. There’s been a terrible fire at the Grange. The stables’re burned to the ground!”

Kit whitened. “Good God! The horses ... ?”

“We got ‘em out, don’t ye take on about that.” Arthur, also pale, got to his feet. “All of them? Windracer, too?”

Mickley stared at the boy. “Aye, Windracer, too. But ‘oo might you be t’ know of Windracer?”

Caro had been listening with her brow puckered. “What do
you
know of Windracer?” she asked the batman curiously. “Are you speaking of the stables at
Crittenden
Grange?”

He pulled off his cap. “Well, yes, ma’am, a’ course I am.”