A Heart's Masquerade (29 page)

"Worcester," he answered, and Cat blinked in astonishment.

She'd fallen in love with the captain of a privateer. Never once had she believed him to be a preening, arrogant aristocrat. Such men did not sneak into their own pantries or tease their servants or call grizzled sailors their friends. And yet...

Stunned, Cat sat back in her chair, looking at him as though for the first time.

"You truly
are
a duke," she said stupidly.

"You didn't believe it?" Ransom threw back his head, filling the room with the rich sound of his laughter.

"No one from the
Reckless
ever addressed you as 'your grace'," Cat said, bristling. "They called you Ransom Duprey."

"Duprey is my family name. It's simpler to use aboard ship, and we've been places where it's not wise to draw attention to rank," he said. "But I assure you, my love, that despite all appearances to the contrary, I am the sixth duke of Worcester, with the estates and coat of arms to prove it."

Questions came tumbling to Cat's lips, but before she could voice them, the cook returned, fully dressed, and shooed them out. "Off with you now. The day's beginning, and it wouldn't do for the new duchess to be caught eating in the kitchens," Mrs. Banks chided Ransom. She did not have to add that Cat's unorthodox clothing would cause even more gossip.

Ransom led a thoroughly bemused Cat into the cool great house, past louvered galleries still dim in the glow of dawn and along corridors whose mahogany floors were polished to a fine sheen with coconut husks. In the east wing of the house, he threw open a gleaming door to reveal an airy bedroom furnished with an enormous bed carved with pineapples.

Suddenly, Cat was bone-tired after all her adventures and revelations. Caring only that the mattress was comfortable, she promptly sank into it, without a thought to her impending nuptials, the identity of her betrothed, or anything else.

***

Cat was awakened by a timid housemaid who claimed that the dressmaker was here, and his grace sent his compliments. Did the mistress want a bath? At the offer, Cat practically leapt from the bed. And she luxuriated in the deep brass tub for so long the poor maid practically had to drag her out of it.

After the girl produced some undergarments and a cup of chocolate, Cat met with the dressmaker, a no-nonsense lady who poked, pinned, and prodded her while saying little. Rank had its privileges, Cat discovered, for a lovely cream day dress was altered to fit her on the spot.

Dressed once again as a lady, Cat hurried into the main rooms, eager to greet Ransom properly. But when she found him in a spacious salon, he was not alone. Cat smiled politely as she was introduced to Lady Ponsonby, an enormous woman dressed in a startling purple gown and matching turban.

"Lady Ponsonby has kindly consented to stay with us until the wedding," Ransom said, lifting a brow to warn Cat to silence.

It's a good thing he did, for Cat was inclined to argue that it was too late for a chaperon - much like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted. Not to mention all the months they had spent sharing the same cabin on the
Reckless
. But with Ransom's brow cocked toward her, Cat mentioned none of that. Instead, she greeted Lady Ponsonby warmly and took a seat as the woman began complaining of the dull season.

"I am so thankful you are getting married," she said as she eased her huge bulk onto a couch. "A wedding is just what this island needs, although you could take the time to prepare a proper celebration," she added, giving Ransom a reproving look.

Ransom shook his head. "We want a small wedding here in the chapel, not a large event."

Lady Ponsonby snorted in disgust. "Really, your grace, you have a responsibility to society."

When Ransom did not comment, she prattled on. "Well, at least it's something! I swear I have never been more bored. Why, I was hoping the Frenchies would attack, just to provide some excitement."

"Some like the quiet to be had here," Ransom said, his lips twitching suspiciously.

"Don't talk to me of quiet, your grace," she said, snapping open her fan to use it vigorously. "Little enough you would know of quiet, racing off in your ships to rescue beautiful young ladies." Lady Ponsonby gave Cat a meaningful glance, which made her nervous. What story had Ransom told?

"I vow I am parched from this heat," the lady said, though the house obviously had been built to take advantage of the breezes. "Perhaps some lemonade? Or is tea in the offing?"

At that hint, Cat felt a measure of relief. Lady Ponsonby seemed far more interested in food and drink than the couple’s history, which suited Cat just fine. However, Cat did long for a moment alone with her betrothed and was soon wishing that her chaperon would disappear. But Lady Ponsonby made her presence felt throughout supper and made no move to retire until Cat had done so.

The next few days were maddeningly similar as Cat was unable to snatch a private moment with her captain. Either she found he'd gone to town, or she was surrounded by fitters and milliners, trotting out materials of every description until she was certain she would need an entire ship in which to store her wardrobe.

If Cat did happen to see Ransom, Lady Ponsonby was in attendance, preventing all except the most general conversation on mundane topics, which did not include her past and present relationship with the captain of the
Reckless.

And each night, as she lay alone and disgruntled in her vast bed, Cat could not decide whether she was glad that Ransom was rushing the wedding so that she could be with him sooner or whether she should call off the whole thing simply to get his attention.

Just as she thought she would surely go mad, she was summoned peremptorily to his study early one morning. Startled, she glanced up from the breakfast table, but Lady Ponsonby had not yet appeared. Cat rose to her feet and followed the footman, looking over her shoulder as though at any moment she would be overcome by a horde of seamstresses or one enormous chaperon.

But the house was delightfully quiet, and no one interrupted her progress. At the door, Cat felt a tiny stab of uncertainty, as though the whirlwind marriage plans were all a dream, and when she stepped into the room, a stranger would greet her.

"Hello, stranger." The sound of that deep, rich voice sent all her worries fleeing as she found herself, for once, alone with Ransom. The bright island sun shone through the tall windows onto his shoulders, creating a soft sheen on his dark hair.

He was grinning wickedly, and whether he raised a beckoning hand, or she simply sensed his desire from across the room, a few quick paces propelled Cat into his arms. She pressed her face against his waistcoat, enjoying the feel of his arms around her after far too long.

"Miss me?" he whispered against her hair, and she laughed before raising her gaze to his. A flippant remark was on the tip of her tongue, but when she looked into those eyes, dark and intent, she answered differently.

"Yes," she said, huskily.

"I've missed you, too, my little Cat," he whispered against her ear, his lips brushing against the tender flesh there.

"The servants," Cat protested weakly as he hands traveled down the back of her thin gown to pull her against him.

"They won't disturb us," he assured her, and Cat welcomed the kisses she had been wanting. But they were not enough, and soon she was tugging at his coat while his hands roved over her. "Why do you have to wear so many clothes?" she whispered.

The sound of his sharply indrawn breath urged her on, as did the clandestine nature of their rendezvous. No slow, languid tryst on the beach was this, but a frantic coming together fuelled by need delayed. Cat gasped when he lifted her from her feet and pressed her against the wall, but it was a gasp of pleasure, all sensation heightened to a fever pitch until they both shuddered and sighed.

"Catherine? Are you in there? Your grace?" Lady Ponsonby's voice was unmistakable as it drifted through the door not far from where Cat was still wrapped in her captain's embrace. Eyes wide, she looked to Ransom in horror, but he held a finger gently to her lips.

When the door rattled loudly, Cat nearly jumped from her skin, but Ransom only grinned, reminding her of the boy who had pelted his tutor with plums.

With a loud "Humph!" Lady Ponsonby padded away, and Cat slid down Ransom's body with relief.

"I suppose I ought not to hide from her," Cat said, trying to bring order to her disheveled appearance.

Ransom grimaced. "I find all this propriety extremely frustrating."

"You're the one who hired her!"

"For your sake," he said, more seriously. "But I'll have word sent to her that you and I are going into town. Alone."

Cat threw her arms around him happily, and he held her close once more. "Hmm. Perhaps we should be on our way before we are well and truly caught out," he said. "But first, I have something for you."

With a smile, he turned to the desk and picked up a finely wrought silver jewel case, far more elegant than any Cat had ever seen. Inside, lying on a bed of black velvet was an emerald necklace that seemed to glow with a life of its own. Cat gasped aloud, for although stunning in itself, it was surrounded by a matching bracelet and ring.

"Here," he said softly, as he took the ring and slipped it on her finger.

His hands were warm and sure upon hers, and the face that looked down at hers was long beloved. Why, then, did she feel as though her heart would break? Perhaps because this token represented something tangible between them, far more than a fleeting morning of stolen lovemaking.

"It's beautiful," she said, in a hushed tone.

"Emeralds to match your eyes," he said. "And far more fitting than my first gift to you."

Cat eyed him askance. "But that knife saved my life."

***

They spent the rest of the day together, dining in town and seeing the sights, although oblivious to most everything except each other. Cat began to like the notion of a hasty wedding, for she would have the best of both worlds: the easy friendship they had first shared, along with the fierce attraction that had come later.

When they finally returned to the plantation house, Lady Ponsonby's complaints were brushed aside, and loudly bemoaning the lack of appreciation for her services, she went off to bed in high dudgeon. She was placated the next day, however, by the arrival of the guests - "the new blood" as she ghoulishly referred to them. Amelia, Lord Claremont, and Cordelia, looking bewildered but happy, were welcomed by Cat with open arms.

Lord Claremont shook his head at the sudden nuptials. "I thought you two were on the outs," he said. With a nod toward Amelia, he said, "I suppose she knew what she was doing, as usual, confound the woman."

Cat blinked in confusion, while Ransom lifted a dark brow.

"First, she pestered me to find out everything I could about you, your grace, and nothing would do but that I must get you to visit the island," the older man said. "Then, I must throw you two together, though you seemed to despise each other. It was getting so I hardly knew what she would have me doing next! I can only be thankful now that it's all over."

Obviously surprised by the startled looks his speech had drawn, he added, "And all's well that end's well."

"Aunt!" Cat gasped as Lord Claremont's words sunk in.

"Now, Catherine, it was just a little matchmaking." Amelia smiled slyly. "And you can hardly blame me. I knew the moment you mentioned this man that you two were destined for each other."

Cat could only shake her head, for apparently, destiny had needed a little prodding.

.

Chapter Nineteen

Cat blinked, still half certain she was dreaming as maids appeared to dress her for her wedding day. It seemed so long ago that she had fallen in love with her captain, and much of the time since had been spent in unrequited yearning and more than a little misery. But now things that she had never dared hoped for seemed to be happening at dizzying speed.

The dream continued as Cat donned a pale pink gown and a diaphanous overdress sewn with gold more beautiful than Cat had ever imagined. Looking into the mirror, she could hardly believe her own reflection.

Always more interested in horses and ships, she had never really imagined her wedding. But even had she envisioned the day, she could never have pictured such a setting. The house was bedecked with flowers, filling all the rooms with perfume, while outside the cloudless blue sky looked down on a balmy island afternoon.

As she stepped from the spacious plantation house, Cat lingered on the threshold for a moment, surprised to find her path to the chapel lined with servants eager for a glimpse of the duke and his bride in all their finery. In the face of so many, Cat's first few steps were halting, but she was put at ease by the sight of Mrs. Banks, grinning widely. Cat smiled in return, setting up a murmur of appreciation among the staff.

The sight of the cook seemed to waken Cat from her dream, and she finally began to accept that what was happening was real. If it was more elegant and romantic than she ever expected, the groom certainly was the one she had in mind, and that thought eclipsed all else as she moved to his side in the small, vine-covered chapel.

Cat noticed Cordelia, beautiful in a pale blue gown, and she smiled at her friend, but when Ransom's long fingers closed about her own, all else faded into the background, and she could see no one but her captain. He looked more than splendid in his black coat, silver waistcoat, and snowy white cravat, but it was his face that held her attention.

He did not falter, his rich voice repeating the words with a conviction that all could hear, and Cat's throat grew thick with emotion as she listened to him pledge his life to her. Lifting her gaze to his dark one, she realized that she no longer had to hold back, to hide any part of herself from this man.

The masquerades were over. And with a mixture of joy and relief, she repeated the vows that would bind her forever to her beloved.