Let It Snow (41 page)

Why was it so hard to say no to him? Violet prided herself on the strength of her resolve. She was adept in a crisis, but in Kit’s hands she was pudding, waiting to be licked and eaten.

“You seek to distract me with kisses,” she said.

Kit’s grin was wide. “Is it working, madam?”

“More than I would like to admit.”

“Then do not leave me.”

Interesting. Those were the words she wanted to utter to him. The thing that burned in her heart and made her afraid to stay. What if he cared more than he let on?

“Let me attend to my duties and then I will return for dinner.”

This kiss was a quick, firm press of his lips to hers. “Not a full concession, but I shall consider it a victory nonetheless.”

“Try to remain in bed while I am gone. I heard about you trying to sneak out to the stables a couple of days ago.”

His lashes dropped and he smiled slyly. “If you would let me out of this room once in a while I should not have to resort to such tactics.”

“Shall I have to tie you down to the bed?”

A gentle bite to her ear made her gasp. “That sounds promising.”

Her eyes went wide. He truly was wicked.

As he licked the edge of her ear and then swirled his tongue in its opening, she lost her sanity. Her fingers clung to his arms and her breaths were quick and shallow.

“Though I prefer to do the tying.”

“Rogue.”

“Rake,” he countered, biting down on the lobe again, but hard this time.

“I do not doubt it.”

He released her and she saw that his eyes were glazed and his gaze hungry.

“Go,” he said. “Go before I decide to take you up on your idea.”

“Of tying you up?”

“No. Of tying
you
up.”

She squeezed his nose. “If I am trussed up and locked to the bed, it is because I allowed it. Remember that, my lord.”

His thumb swept her lip and she became lost in his brown eyes. “I will never forget it.”

* * * *

Violet’s cheeks were aflame when she found Avery. She didn’t know what to say to him. He’d been her most trusted ally for the past few years. Though class separated them, the reality of the horrors they went through had formed a bond far closer than servant and mistress. Violet thought of him as a friend.

She cleared her throat. He was bent over showing Sally how to properly clean a crystal vase.

“My lady.”

“Avery, can we meet in my study?”

“Of course.”

All the way to the door, she could feel the pitter-patter of her beating heart. This was certainly improper, but then again, theirs had never been a conventional relationship.

She didn’t relax until she sat behind her desk. She gripped the solid wood and trusted that if the war hadn’t broken her, this awkward conversation would not either.

Avery went to the thick, red damask drapes and pulled until the darkness faded and the stark light of the afternoon shone through.

“How can I assist you, my lady?” His face revealed nothing, not that she’d expected any trace of emotion there. Avery was a good butler, but he’d also once been a superior card player. When his thoughts showed on his face, it was because he allowed you to see them.

“You and I have known one another for a very long time.”

“Yes.”

“We have seen blood and death and the follies of humankind. We buried John together.”

“Yes.”

“So I shall not pretend with you as I might with Hinkley and the others.”

He waited for her to continue. His grey eyes were as pale as the cold winter sky outside.

She picked up a quill and rolled it between her fingers. “You and Mrs. Norris know everything that goes on in this house.”

“That would be a fair assessment.”

“Then you know what passed in Mr. Kit’s room this afternoon.”

Silence.

With a deep breath, Violet continued. She fingered the feather of her pen for a moment before she met his gaze again. “You seek to spare me,” she smiled, “and I am grateful to you for that. But you more than anyone else knows the pain of my husband’s loss and the empty years that followed it.”

“My lady, there is no need—”

Why did she feel the need to explain herself to him? Avery would not judge her for finding happiness, however fleeting. Was it her own conscience she needed to clear?

She pursed her lips. “I wish I could say that I was the perfect widow, with no thought for any other man save John. But he is gone.”

Again, Avery merely watched her. His eyes were no longer the clear crystal of moments ago. She could see the subtle shift to ash.

“I do know what will happen here. Kit is welcome to stay as long as he wishes, but you and I both know that it is not a question of if he will go, but when.”

Avery gave a nod.

Violet glanced at the tall, sturdy oak clock, ticking the minutes away as if nothing ever changed. She watched the pendulum swing, counting the beats and knowing that time was not on her side.

“He has made no promises and I have asked for none.”

Why did Avery give her that look? She could only think of it as pity. Was she pitiable? Perhaps. But her course had been set since the day Kit had rescued her.

“I am no innocent, Avery. You and I both know that was robbed of me long ago. Now, my choice is to accept the truth and to prepare for it as best I can. I know you sent out a few inquiries when he first arrived, but I want you to try again.”

She was surprised to hear him speak as he’d been silent for so long. “Has he remembered aught else?”

Now she was the one who nodded.

“Is there anything that can identify his lordship? Has he remembered his family name?”

“I do not think so. However, he did mention that he remembers being a pugilist. And given the scars we’ve seen on his body, I can believe it. We know his name is Kit or Christopher and now we know he frequented boxing matches in London. That should surely help us track down his family, if he has any.”

“You know as well as I, my lady, that he is no mere thug who made his fortune in sport.” The gravel in his voice made Violet look up.

“Probably not. But if we can find some of the patrons for these matches, someone ought to recognize him.”

“I cannot access the clubs of the fancy.”

She smiled. “Something tells me he did not discriminate against an able-bodied opponent if they had the backing to put up for the match.”

“Aye.”

His officious demeanor was slipping, but Violet was polite enough not to remark on it. Charles Avery had his secrets, just like Kit. And though he was her closest friend, she might never know what they were.

“The more we know about him, the better.”

“And you are sure you wish to know?”

No. But she would not say it aloud. “Yes. I know the man that he is, but we need to find out who he was before he came here. At the very least, we should inform his family of his whereabouts. Christmastide is almost upon us.”

She didn’t know why it mattered so much. Whether he were a lord or a commoner, he could choose to leave at any time. Perhaps the old expression was true: to be forewarned was to be forearmed?

Avery nodded. “Very well, my lady. I shall send a letter to some friends in London to see what I can discover. There is a chance I may have to travel there myself.”

“If such a need arises, we will make arrangements.” She stood. “I would rather send you than hire someone or send a footman.”

“We could inquire with Bow Street.”

“Yes, that is a possibility. But you are the one I trust.” She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“My lady is most welcome.”

He exited the room and she breathed a sigh of relief. She still hadn’t addressed the inevitable gossip of the servants, but one worry was off her table.

Kit sat at the table with a piece of paper and a quill. As soon as Violet was gone, he’d bribed Adam, one of the footmen, to bring him something to write with. He needed to get a letter to Freddy. Though Kit was not yet ready to leave Welbury Park, it would be cruel to let Bella think something terrible had happened to him.

For all her meddling, Kit loved Bella and he would not make her relive the horror of losing their parents. This was a hard time for her as it was. He regretted storming off, but it was hard not to rage against her despotism. Bella was a beautiful tyrant with no country to subjugate.

He shook his head as he scribbled the opening lines. Poor Freddy received the brunt of her domination. Though for some strange reason, Freddy seemed to like it. Maybe he knew some secret that Kit had never learned.

Kit read over the short missive, knowing Freddy would be smart enough to read between the lines.

Dear Freddy,

You will forgive this brief note as I have no time for niceties. I recently came to some difficulty while assisting a lovely lady on the road. Some ruffians attempted to make off with her purse—and a good deal more. If you saw her, you’d understand why common men believe in angels.

I sustained an injury, so said angel took me into her home and has taken very good care of me. I will rest here for a few more weeks and then return in time for Christmas day.

Trust me that all is well. I will see you soon, brother. Tell Bella I will come back shortly, but do not tell her where I am. Keep her busy.

I will see you in a few weeks.

Sincerely,

Kit

Marquess of Kittrick

Welbury Park

Leicestershire, England

He folded up the missive and went to the satchel that Avery had retrieved for him. He folded back the thick leather and dug around for the nub of wax and his seal ring.

Dipping the wick into a candle flame, he watched the green wax pool onto the parchment. Once he sent this letter, there was no denying his past. Any fantasy he might have had about staying with Violet at Welbury Park was gone. A man with no name, no past could be free to choose the future as he wished.

A marquess had responsibilities. For all his wealth, he could not erase his title or his station. He was branded at birth, and no matter how much he rebelled against the confines of the court and polite society, he would never completely escape them.

He pressed down the ring, which formed a ram’s head surrounded by laurel leaves. With a sigh, he put the ring away and tapped on the door three times, giving the signal for Adam to return for the letter.

It was done now. He tried not to think about the future beyond tonight. Tonight he had everything to look forward to. An enticing woman with a mind as wanton as her luscious body would be his to devour. That was all that mattered, all he wanted to remember.

Kit spent the next few hours alternating between resting and imagining Violet draped across his bed, naked and yielding to every dirty thing he wanted to do to her. He didn’t get much sleep.

In his mind, he saw her body over and over again, even remembering the mole on her torso and a tiny one on the back of her neck. He would kiss every inch of skin, explore every curve and crevice.

That is, if she would let him.

She said she needed time. What did that mean? Was it a day? A week? A month—
Bloody Hell, it better not be that long
. Patience was a skill he avoided. There were too many pleasures in life to dilly-dally. Abstinence was for monks, not healthy, attractive men in their prime.

So here he was, waiting. She’d promised to come to him for dinner. In anticipation of tonight’s festivities, he’d given himself a fast towel bath and put on the nicer of the two dressing gowns he had. He’d begged Mrs. Norris for a proper dinner jacket and pantaloons, but the old woman said he needed to rest his injuries and refused to oblige him.

Avery did not argue with Mrs. Norris, but did give him a comb, a nice crisp shirt, cravat, and a bit of cologne.

He was tying his cravat when there was a knock at the door.

“You may enter.”

Violet, followed by Mrs. Norris and Sally, came in with trays of food. He watched Sally lay out a thick white tablecloth over the old walnut table. While it was certainly an improvement, it did not cover the gnawed leg.

Violet wore a pale yellow gown adorned with sparkling gold dots. His eyes skimmed over the puff sleeves to the generous swell of her bosom—which was well displayed—and he was even more pleased when she turned and he could see the elegant curve of her back. The dress split to form a long V, leaving her back mostly open.

Though she was fully dressed, she might as well be naked. He must send a letter of praise to her dressmaker. As necklines got lower, gentlemen looked forward to dinner and opera and all the social niceties women required of them.

He’d gladly give his wife a little more purse money if she looked like that.

What? What the hell had just gone through his mind? Kit didn’t have a wife, nor did he want one.

Yet, he could imagine Violet coming to his bed every night. He could imagine sitting across from her at a long table and ignoring everyone else present. He could imagine conversing with her at the opera and admiring a view that had nothing to do with the actors on stage.

“I hope you are hungry.” She smiled at him as the servants laid out an elaborate spread for them. “I arranged for the soup and main course to be delivered at once.”

A footman lifted a silver lid, revealing roasted mutton with carrots and potatoes. Kit could smell the rosemary. His mouth salivated as each dish was uncovered.

The smell of the fresh baked bread made his stomach squeeze. He’d hardly eaten this morning because Violet hadn’t come to breakfast with him. She more than made up for it now, first with a gown that displayed almost every curve he longed to see and now with savory meats and vegetables and a delicious-looking soup.

He waited until the footman had sliced the meats and served up the bowls of broth to speak.

“You look lovely, Violet.”

“Thank you, Kit.”

As he sipped his soup, he watched her. He noted each rise and fall of her bosom, noted the way she held her spoon to her lips.
Mmmmmm
. What he wouldn’t give to sample her mouth again.