Just Wicked Enough (18 page)

And with that, she turned and walked out of the room.

Michael made it as far as the steps in the foyer.

In Stonehaven’s garden, he’d made a move to go after Kate, but Wiggins had grabbed his arm.

“Let her go,” he’d ordered.

Michael wasn’t about to listen to anything the man had to say. He’d made that clear by delivering a hard punch to the man’s face. He thought he might have broken his hand in the process. He’d finally made his way out to the street, only to discover their coach gone.

He’d walked until he found a hansom cab for hire. And had returned home to discover his wife hadn’t.

So he tugged off his gloves, loosened his neck-cloth, dropped down to the third step of the stairs that swept up to the next landing, and considered his options.

She’d no doubt returned to her parents’ home, and the very real possibility existed that she would never return to this one. The disappointment and revulsion at learning her husband had sold himself was far too clear. He’d thought looking at his own reflection in the mirror had been hard enough, but gazing into her eyes—

With a deep sigh, he dropped his head into his hands, pressed his fingers against his skull.

He’d kept his part of the bargain. The money was his, hard-earned. He wouldn’t allow it to be taken away. They could turn it all over to him and take back their daughter who believed love was so damned important…

He was weary of playing her games. Favorite colors and flowers and books…

He’d had enough. She could rot in hell for all he cared. He didn’t need her. He needed—wanted—her money. That was the extent of his longing. She could go back to Wesley Wiggins—

The anguished cry echoed around him. He couldn’t bear the thought of her with another man. Couldn’t bear the thought of her gracing him with smiles, of laughing with him, of peering over at him impishly on the verge of delivering some tart comment designed to put him in his place.

He didn’t want her with a man who knew her favorite color.

He
wanted her.

He wanted her smiles, her laughter. He wanted the way she took charge, her no-nonsense approach to life. He wanted the contentment he felt when he danced with her, the joy he experienced when he gazed at her first thing in the morning. He wanted her cries and whimpers of passion at night, even if they were stirred to life by the memories of another man.

He cursed at the bittersweet moments that plagued him. If he truly cared for her as he’d begun to suspect he did, he should be willing to give her up, to place her happiness above his.

Instead, he sat on the cold, hard steps trying to determine how he could convince her that he was worthy of her affection.

M
ichael stood within the Rose entryway waiting to be announced. He was damned tempted to rush up the stairs and pound on the door of every bedchamber until he found his wife. He’d sat on the hard steps of his own stairs until dawn—waiting for her return. When the sunlight had begun filtering in through the windows, it had brought a darkness to his soul, the likes of which he’d never known.

He’d been hit with the realization that he didn’t want to lose Kate. And not because of the funds that she’d brought with her, but because of the smiles and laughter she brought with her and even her damned notion that he should earn her affection.

But it appeared he was in danger of losing her, because he’d yet to determine how to gain her affection.

So he’d begun considering his options. He’d purchase her a dozen bouquets of forget-me-nots. Two dozen boxes of chocolates. A hundred, no a thousand books. And as he thought of each item, he dismissed it.

He didn’t have the power to earn her love, but perhaps he could earn her understanding.

He heard light footsteps coming down the hallway. The butler bowed slightly. “My lord, if you’ll follow me, Mr. Rose will see you.”

Michael followed the man to the library where he spotted James Rose pouring amber liquid into two glasses. Rose glanced over at him. “Falconridge.”

“Rose.”

Rose turned from the table and handed him a glass. “I know it’s a bit early in the day but I figure we can both use a good stiff drink. And don’t worry about a thing. Kate was here last night and told me everything. We’re going to sue Jeffers for telling that no-account son-in-law of his about our arrangement.” He tossed back his drink in one swallow. “The money will go to you, of course, as I have no need of it, but I have the best lawyers already on retainer—”

“I don’t care about any of that. I’m here for Kate.”

Rose looked as though Michael had tossed the expensive whiskey in his face. “What do you mean you’re here for Kate? She returned to your residence last night.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Of course she did. There was no where else for her to go. You just didn’t see her arrive.”

“As I was sitting on the stairs of my foyer until dawn, there is no way I could have possibly not seen her arrive. Are you certain she isn’t here?”

Rose nodded. “Absolutely positive. She was understandably upset with me. She rushed out. I followed, saw her get safely into the coach. I just assumed—” He dropped down into a chair, hung his head. “I think she’s feeling betrayed. Not the first time. I explained to her that I wouldn’t have even bothered to attend your auction if she’d been trying to find a husband, but she was content to stay in her room and read. I needed her married.”

Michael set his still-full glass on the desk. He needed his wits about him, and he wasn’t particularly interested in what had brought them to this moment. It was done and he no longer had control over it. He’d grown accustomed to not having control. He did the best he could. “Do you know where she might have gone?”

Rose lifted his head, met Michael’s gaze. “No. She hasn’t any friends here.” He sprung to his feet. “Damnation! I gave her control over the money. She could have bought a ticket to anywhere in the world. We may never find her.”

“I’ll find her.” He turned to leave.

“I should have given control to you.”

Michael turned back to him. “No, you shouldn’t have. Kate has a keen sense of money—just as you told me. I wish I’d been in a position…” He looked down at the floor. No frayed, worn rugs there. He lifted his gaze. “The yearly stipend you promised. It won’t be necessary.”

Rose took on the look of a man who’d placed a wager at the racetrack and just watched the horse cross the finish line well ahead of the others. “I never thought it would be.”

Michael wished none of it had been necessary. “I wish I
had
asked for her hand. She deserved that, at least.”

“Let me grab my coat and I’ll help you look for her.”

“That won’t be necessary.” For the first time since he’d gone into the garden last night, he actually smiled. He might not know her favorite color, but he did know this. “As impossible as it seems, I believe I know where she is.”

“It’s so nice of you to pay us a call, my lord, even though the hour is unconscionably early for a social visit,” the Duchess of Hawkhurst said, as she poured tea into a china cup. “That seems to be an unfortunate habit you have—not calling at the appropriate hour.”

Michael had arrived only to be kept waiting while he was announced to Her Grace, who apparently had decided she didn’t need to greet him until the tea had been properly steeped and was ready for pouring.

“I want to see her.”

She peered up at him. “And who would that be, my lord?”

“My wife,” he ground out.

Hawk, standing against the fireplace as though his presence were needed to support the wall, cleared his throat, and Michael reined in his impatience.

“She is here, isn’t she?”

“Do you take sugar with your tea?”

“I’m not here for tea, Your Grace. I’m here for my wife.”

“And why would you think she’s here?”

“For pity’s sake, Louisa, stop torturing the man,” Hawk said. “She’s here, still abed, after arriving in the middle of the night.”

Michael didn’t know if he’d ever felt such relief, not only because Kate was safe but because he’d managed to deduce where she would go if she had no where else to go. “Will you let her know I’m here?”

“I promised her that I’d provide her with a refuge as long as she needed it,” the duchess said.

“A refuge? I’m not going to beat her.”

“What are you going to do?”

Devil take all women!

“Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but I don’t feel I need to explain myself to you, but I will explain things to my wife.”

“She’s feeling quite vulnerable right now.”

“I only wish to speak with her. If she doesn’t want to leave with me”—he could barely stand the thought of her remaining here—”then she need not, and I’ll personally pack up her clothes and bring them to her. Ask her. I’ve been as accommodating as I could be. That will not change, but it is imperative that I speak with her.”

The duchess glanced at her husband. Hawk nodded. She sighed as though she’d lost some great battle. “Very well. I’ll let her know you’re here, but I’ll not force her to see you. She’s been forced to do things she didn’t want to do far too often. I’ll not be party to making her life any more miserable than it already is.”

She rose to her feet and swept from the room with more righ teous indignation than Michael had ever witnessed. Once she was out of sight, Hawk murmured, “I tried to warn you that secrets—”

“Yes, yes, yes. You’re ever so wise and knowing. How fortunate for me that I have such a clever friend.”

“More clever than you for certain, because I know the way to a lady’s heart doesn’t involve bringing her to tears. She was quite distraught when she arrived. Louisa was with her for a good part of the night.”

Hawk’s words effectively doused Michael’s irritation with him. “I’d never planned to deceive her about how she came to be my wife, but once I realized her parents had told a different tale…what was I to do? Reveal them as liars?”

“It might have been better than perpetuating the lie.”

Michael waved that off. “It no longer matters. It’s only important that she come to understand why.”

“Do you think seeing her now is the right move?” Hawk asked quietly.

“What would you do in my place if it were Louisa who wanted nothing to do with you?”

Hawk arched a brow in surprise. “You’ve come to care for the girl.”

Care
hardly seemed a strong enough word to describe what he felt for Kate. In a short period of time, she’d come to mean everything to him. He couldn’t imagine his life without her.

“She wanted to be desired for more than money. Yet we can’t survive without the funds she brought into the marriage. How do I convince her that she is more important?”

“Simply tell her.”

Michael shook his head. “If I’ve learned anything at all about Kate these past few weeks, it’s that she must be shown.”

And in the showing, he knew he could very well lose her forever.

“Kate?”

Kate heard the soft voice, but she wanted to stay buried beneath the covers where not even a whisper of sunlight could touch her. Oh, her head hurt and her eyes felt gritty and swollen from all the tears she’d shed once she’d arrived here.

“Kate, you need to wake up.”

She eased the blanket down only enough to look out from the cocoon of her haven and see the Duchess of Hawkhurst standing over her. “To wake up would indicate that I’d slept. And I haven’t.”

Louisa sat on the edge of the bed, moved the covers down farther, and tenderly brushed the loose hair back from Kate’s face. “Falconridge is here. He wants to see you.”

“You sent word to him—”

“No. He simply arrived and asked to see his wife as though he knew you were here. But neither Hawk nor I sent word.”

“Then how did he know?” she asked, baffled.

“I don’t know, but he looks as though he’s had as rough a night as you. I’ll help you get dressed.”

Kate shook her head. “I need more time to sort things out. Tell him I’ll return home when I’m ready.”

“I’m not certain he’s in a mood to accept that as an answer.”

“That’s just too bad. He sold himself, Louisa. And my father purchased him, not only placing a value on him, but a value on me. I can’t be part of this. I won’t be part of it. He doesn’t own me. I won’t do as he bids.”

“He must have been very desperate—”

“Or incredibly lazy. I’ve heard the snide comments about what American heiresses will bid for a nobleman, but I didn’t think anyone would actually take them to heart.” She sighed. “Tell him I’m not at home. Tell him to go to the devil.”

Louisa released a deep breath of obvious exasperation. “I shall try, but I think you should prepare yourself for my not meeting with success. He seems quite determined to have his way.”

“Yes, well, I can be just as stubborn, and well he knows it.” Or at least she thought he did. But he knew so little about her. How
had
he managed to deduce that she was here?

“Did he go to my parents’ house first?” Kate heard herself murmur.

“I’m not sure,” Louisa said. “Perhaps you should go down and ask him.”

“No, I don’t want to see him. Simply tell him that it would please me if he left. He always does what would please me.”

“A woman can’t ask for much more in a husband than that.”

“A woman can ask for love,” Kate said quietly.

“He must hold some affection for you or he wouldn’t come looking for you.”

“I have complete control over our purse strings, Louisa. Without me, he has no access to funds. And he needs a good deal of funds to renovate his residences. Just tell him what I said. He’ll leave.” Lying down, she pulled the covers back over her head. There was comfort to be found in the cozy darkness.

It was several minutes before she heard the door open again. “Did he leave?”

“No, he did not,” a familiar deep voice answered back.

She jerked the blankets down and glared at her husband who was slowly closing the door behind him and watching her intently as though wondering if she might pick up an object on the bedside table and throw it at him. If they were her things, she very well might have. Even Louisa had betrayed her. Was there no one she could trust?

“Don’t be angry at your hostess. She believes I left. Her mistake was in taking me at my word and not escorting me to the door.”

“So you lie as easily to her as you do to me.”

“I never lied to you, Kate. I may have danced around the truth a bit, but only because I realized your parents didn’t want you to know the particulars of our arrangement.”

“You said you approached my father—”

“And I did. With an invitation to the auction.”

“Who all did you invite?”

“Your father. Jeffers, Blair, Haddock, and Keane.”

She pushed herself up and sat back against the pillows, settling the blanket at her waist. “Rather austere company. The wealthiest of the wealthy. At least I can’t fault you for not aiming high.”

He walked over to the window and gazed out, squinting against the brightness of the morning. “In my youth I would stay in this room when I visited Hawkhurst.”

It seemed a strange change in topic, and yet at the same time, it was revealing something that she couldn’t quite comprehend. “But your own residence isn’t that far away.”

“Still, it was more pleasant here. Hawk’s mother had a tendency toward kindness.”

“And your own mother didn’t?”

“My mother was hardly ever home. I think she and my father saw me as a necessary nuisance. The required heir and nothing more except a bother. A nanny and a governess saw to my care. They were neither kind nor particularly pleasant.”

“I had a governess. She wasn’t so awful.”

He peered over his shoulder at her. “Did she lock you in a closet if you didn’t eat your peas?”

She slowly shook her head. “Did yours?”

“To this day I refuse to eat peas willingly.”

“But you were the young lord, the heir—”

“I suspect that was the reason she took such delight in tormenting me. She was quite clever. She had me convinced I’d be a grave disappointment to my parents if they ever learned I had to be punished for behaving poorly, so I suffered through her cruelties in silence.”

“Is her punishment the reason you don’t suffer confinement well?”

“Probably.”

“Is all of this the reason you hate your mother, that you don’t go see her—”

“I don’t hate her. I’ve always loved her, even though she had no time for me. And I go see her quite often.”

“But you’ve never taken me to meet her.”

“I had my reasons.”

He crossed the room, stood at the foot of her bed, and wrapped his hand around the bedpost. She could see him more clearly now. He looked as though his night had been as horrendous as hers. His eyes were red-rimmed, but she couldn’t imagine him weeping. No doubt he’d imbibed and become lost in his favorite liquor or perhaps it was simply lack of sleep that made him appear so war-weary. His hair was untamed, as though he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times. Other than that his clothing was impeccable, his grooming perfection.