If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (10 page)

Kate was counting the days until her opportunity to leave the presence of Lord Wynbrook. She decided the best approach to her confusing feelings was to push them far beneath her conscious awareness and hope they would never surface again. So far, it had been a losing battle, for which she blamed Wynbrook entirely.

After her last disastrous ball, Kate was surprised when her hosts invited her to another one. She retreated to her room and considered faking a megrim. A knock on her door caused her heart to flutter. Perhaps it was Wynbrook?

Kate shook her head at her own nonsense. Of course it was not Wynbrook. “Enter!” she called, trying to gather her wits.

Her brother stalked through the door and gave her a dark look. “Not another ball,” grumbled Robert.

“You were the one who wanted to stay here,” Kate shot back at her brother.

“Hardly thought that meant my presence at…at…”

“A Christmas party?”

“Yes! That.”

“If you could find a bride quicker, we could avoid any more of these social events once we leave Wynbrook House.”

“That is your best argument for the married state yet,” Robert commented dryly.

“I don’t suppose,” said Kate with sudden insight, “that you might be interested in Jane? They are feeling pressured into marrying her off quickly, and you already know her, so you would not have to form a new acquaintance.”

“I already considered the idea, but she would not have me,” said Robert with a sigh.

“She turned you down? Why?” Kate was outraged on her brother’s behalf. He was worth a thousand Sir Richards at least.

“She thanked me for the offer but said something about how she wished to marry someone who was in love with her.”

“Odd notion.”

“Quite.”

“What has love to do with marriage?” asked Kate.

Robert shrugged and retreated out the door. “Need to dress,” he muttered, escaping the befuddling topic of the human heart.

A few hours later, Kate clutched her brother’s sleeve as they entered the holiday ball of Mr. and Mrs. Grant alongside Wynbrook, Tristan, and Jane. Her tight grip had more to do with dragging in her brother than seeking comfort for herself. Kate thought there could be none more uncomfortable in a ballroom than Robert, but Jane was giving him a run for his money.

Anne had demanded that Jane dry her eyes and make an appearance to stave off the gossips, making Jane more miserable than ever. The matchmaker, through written instructions, had agreed with Anne and insisted Jane return to society at once to show she was not bereft (which she was) and that she was still as lively as ever (which she wasn’t).

“What is he doing here?” Jane gasped, holding on to Kate’s other arm with a tenacious grip and staring at the unwanted form of Sir Richard. It was indeed unfortunate that the first public appearance Jane had made since the dissolution of her engagement was also attended by the one man she least wished to see.

“I don’t know, but I hope to remedy it soon,” Wynbrook growled and stalked off in Sir Richard’s direction. The two disappeared into a private corner, and after a few tense minutes, both emerged still alive, which Kate thought was more than Richard deserved.

“What can he be about?” asked Jane in a fearful whisper. “Do you think he has threatened to sue?”

“He would be very foolish if he did, since he has already accepted payment and signed a contract agreeing the engagement is terminated by mutual consent,” said Kate. “Do not worry yourself over it, but let’s go speak to Wynbrook and find out what that man is about.”

She feared releasing her brother’s arm would result in his disappearance, so she dragged him along. Accordingly, they walked arm in arm across the ballroom, to where Wynbrook was leaning against the wall near a potted palm, a bemused look upon his face.

“Dear brother!” said Jane, rushing forward. “What did Sir Richard say to you?”

“Has he threatened to sue?” asked Kate.

“No. It appears we will be rid of him with very little trouble,” said Wynbrook. “Seems our dear Sir Richard has recognized his behavior was repugnant and will withdraw himself from the engagement without further discomfiture.”

The ladies stared at him at this unexpected turn of events.

“But why this sudden change of heart?” asked Jane. “Can he honestly be trying to improve himself?”

“If I had to hazard a guess,” drawled Wynbrook in a seductive manner Kate found simultaneously insufferable and appealing, “I believe our dear Sir Richard has found a new potential victim for his matrimonial pursuits.”

“So you think Sir Richard wants to make peace so he can attempt to secure an engagement with some other poor soul?” asked Kate.

“Yes, though if I know our Sir Richard, the soul in question would not be poor at all,” observed Wynbrook with a twinkle in his eye.

“He is the most despicable fortune hunter and should be publicly called out for his reprehensible behavior,” declared Kate.

“Oh no. Pray, do not even think of doing anything of the sort.” Jane clutched her arm once more.

“Jane is right, I fear,” said Wynbrook, his face sobering into something of a frown “As much as I would like to make Sir Richard’s life as miserable as possible, there is no way to do so without including Jane in his shame. Unfortunately, we must pretend that everything ended amicably so that Jane may find a more worthy groom as quickly as possible.”

“But what about Sir Richard’s next victim? Should not she and her family be warned of his treacherous fortune-hunting proclivities?” Kate protested.

“We shall have to keep an eye on him, so as to protect innocents from falling into his snare. If we know of any particular attention between him and another young lady, I can quietly go to her brother or father and put an end to the affair.”

“I suppose that is the best we can do,” agreed Kate reluctantly. “But I certainly feel sorry for his next victim.”

More people entered the ballroom. Clearly this was a popular event. It was too many people in one place for her liking.

“This is the first event for the newly minted Mrs. Grant,” explained Wynbrook. “Looks like a crush. She’ll be well pleased.”

Kate could not fathom how anyone would prefer to be jostled all night in a crowded room when they could be sitting peacefully by the fire reading a good book. She glanced up at her brother, who was so tense she feared he was frozen in place. The ballroom was no place for Dare.

“Ah, here is Marchford. Allow me to make the introductions!” exclaimed Wynbrook, oblivious to their misery.

The Duke of Marchford was an imposing man of dark features and aloof manner. On his arm was a plainly dressed lady in a simple white muslin gown. She was introduced as Miss Penelope Rose, the companion of the Dowager Duchess of Marchford, who, for some unknown reason, was going about the ballroom on the arm of the duke.

“Darington has just returned from years at sea, commanding the
Lady Kate
. Came back plumper in the pocket than he left,” said Wynbrook with a smile.

“You served in the Royal Navy?” asked Miss Rose politely. She had plain features, but her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence.

“Yes” was Robert’s monosyllabic reply. Kate was impressed he got that much out.

“Admirable,” commented Marchford, joining the conversation with his own brief reply.

“And will you begin a London season this year?” Miss Rose asked Kate.

A season? Voluntarily put herself out to market like a plucked chicken on display, hoping to go to the highest bidder? Was the woman daft? “No. I do not wish to enter society, and I certainly do not wish to be married. You will excuse me.”

Kate turned on her heel and left. She hoped to find some small corner in which to hide until the travesty of the ball was over. Kate was useless at a ball. She did not dance. She did not gamble. She did not gossip. Hence, there was nothing for her to do.

Jane was asked to dance by successive young gentlemen Kate suspected to be Tristan’s friends doing him a favor. It was supposed to make Jane appear happy and admired. Nothing, however, could remove the tinge of sorrow in Jane’s eye.

Wynbrook naturally asked Kate to dance, and she had naturally refused. Thus, there was nothing for her to do but sit in the corner with the matrons and watch the cheerful, dancing couples float by.

Now she understood why Ellen did not wish to attend balls. There was nothing more depressing than watching other people be happy in a manner that would forever be elusive to her. She would never admit it, but it was not without a certain twinge of jealousy that she watched some of the other maidens fly as if their slippers had wings across the dance floor, expertly flirting with their utterly bewitched gentlemen companions. Their faces were bright and cheery, their conversation witty, their gowns light and shimmery, and they moved easily through the ball to the delight and admiration of all.

Kate, on the other hand, felt like a discarded lump of coal—unwanted, unnoticed, and without purpose in this room designed for the brightest ornaments of London society. The sooner her brother could find a bride and they could leave Town, the better.

After sitting alone for a while, she got up to walk in the general direction of the refreshments. She chose her time carefully after most of the others had finished their meals and returned to the ballroom, for she did not wish to be part of the chattering masses as they went to dine. She found the buffet table rather picked over, but still there was enough for a healthy supper. She found a plate and selected some bread, slices of roast beef, and a pickled egg.

She shifted her plate from one hand to the other to reach for some roasted potatoes when someone unexpectedly grabbed the plate from her hand. She turned with a start, and it was a good thing that the plate had been taken from her; otherwise, she certainly would have dropped it.

Before her was the smiling face of Sir Richard.

“My dear lady Kate,” he said with a disarming smile. “Please allow me to assist you.”

Kate snatched back her plate, heedless of the potato that rolled to the floor. “I do not know what you are playing at, Sir Richard, but take yourself and your games elsewhere.”

“I deserve that, of course,” said Sir Richard in a disarming tone. “I have not earned your society. I am most heartily ashamed of myself for my actions the other night and I am resolved to do my utmost to redeem my character in your eyes.”

“I wish you would do nothing of the sort. If you are interested in redemption, I suggest you take yourself to a clergyman.”

Kate turned to leave, but Sir Richard seemed unwilling to allow her to go. He swung around, blocking her exit. Short of pushing past him, which was difficult to do while holding a plate of roast beef and pickled egg, she saw she would be forced to hear whatever ridiculous thing came out of his mouth.

“I deserve that, indeed I do,” said Sir Richard most contritely. If nothing else, the man was a good actor. She had wondered at Jane falling for such a man but could see for herself that he was an expert in deception.

“I only hope that you will allow me the opportunity to raise your estimation of me,” continued Richard. “It is clear to me now that Lady Jane, while an excellent young lady, was not the one for me. What I need is a lady of firm character and decided moral fortitude. I am certain that if I surround myself with such admirable qualities, my character can only benefit.”

Kate was unmoved. “Begone with you.”

So far Sir Richard had kept his face a model of placid obsequiousness, but a flicker of irritation flashed across his features before his appeasing countenance returned. She had a strong notion he was seething beneath his polished charm. “I must insist that you allow me the honor of dining with you this evening, Lady Katherine. For truly, you should not be alone in the dining room.”

“No indeed, she should not be alone, for who knows what company might appear to annoy her.” The Earl of Wynbrook strolled into the dining room. Never had Kate been happier to see him.

Wynbrook’s voice was calm and held his famous lazy drawl, but beneath his half-closed lids were steely eyes of firm determination. He may play the part of the bored aristocrat, but clearly he was not a man to back down from a fight.

Sir Richard took a step back, his brows furrowing at the unwelcome addition of Wynbrook. “I am glad to see that you are not unprotected here, Lady Katherine.”

“No, indeed, so you may now feel free to return yourself to the ballroom with all haste.” She watched with no little satisfaction as Sir Richard finally retreated from the dining room. “Thank you, Wynbrook. Your arrival is most welcome.”

“I saw him going into the dining room and I feared that he had cornered his latest victim.”

Tired of holding the plate before her, Kate walked a few steps to an empty table and sat down, accepting Wynbrook’s assistance, though she was perfectly capable of doing the task herself. “Too bad I was the only one here. I wonder why he felt it necessary to irritate me so.”

Wynbrook took a seat beside her, gazing at her with a bemused smile. “But my dear, his next target is you.”

“Me?” Kate stabbed the pickled egg with a vengeance. “Why would Sir Richard target me?”

Wynbrook cocked his head to the side and gave her a quizzical look. “Can you truly not think of any reason why Sir Richard would pursue you?”

“I harbor nothing for him beyond an extreme dislike, bordering on a strong desire to see him dead.”

“But your dowry, my dear, would be enough to induce almost anyone to overlook these tendencies toward violence.”

Kate dropped her silver fork down on her china plate with a loud clank. “Oh, hell. I forgot about that.”

Wynbrook’s eyebrows rose at her profanity and then lowered to form the smug look she both disliked and admired. “I fear I have upset you and that certainly was not my intent. But with a dowry as large as yours, it can be anticipated that you will have your full share of suitors.”

“Dowry as large as mine?” After the incident with Jane, Kate had forgotten about the unpleasantness of the dowry. Robert had never mentioned any particular amount. “Tell me what you know,” said Kate archly.

A bemused smile played on Wynbrook’s lips. “I fear what I’m going to say may shock you. For the amount of your dowry that is being circulated among gentlemen in the ballroom is fifty thousand pounds.”

“Nonsense!” Kate stared at him, hoping he would break into a smile or do something to suggest his words were some sort of cruel jest. He did not but leaned his elbow on the table in a lazy manner. That was the odd thing about quality—they were rigidly taught all forms of correct behavior, only to act routinely in the opposite manner.

“If you are saying this out of some perverse amusement, I beg you would stop,” said Kate.

“I fear it is only too true. It seems your brother has an interest in marrying you off.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“You may want to reconsider your murderous inclinations. Think about it, my dear,” said Wynbrook with unruffled calm. “If he were dead, you would inherit all. I must say, that would be even worse.”

“Fine then, but I will make him suffer.”

“A reasonable decision. I did tell him you would be most displeased, and you would find out sooner or later, but apparently he decided not to broach the subject, not that I blame the man.”

“You knew!” Kate stood, towering over him. “You knew how much he set for my dowry but you said nothing.”

“Indeed, if my recollection is correct, I did just inform you.” He rose also and now Kate was in the uncomfortable position of having to look up at him. She liked it better the other way around.

“Why did you not tell my brother that such an amount would make me the object of every fortune hunter in Town?”

“I think that was part of the plan. Your brother asked me what he could do to increase your odds of getting married.”

“My odds?
My odds?
”

Wynbrook’s smug confidence dissolved and he took a nervous step backward. “Well, that is to say—”

“Are you taking bets on whether or not I will be married?”

“No!”

“Is anyone?”

“Er…no.”

“Would you tell me if there was?”

“Certainly not.”

“The truth. Now!” She advanced, and Wynbrook retreated before her.

His eyes opened wide and he spoke fast. “There is a standing bet at White’s regarding your nuptials, very long odds, which some completely unscrupulous men have taken. Not I. I would never. Please put the knife down.”

“Oh. Right.” She put the knife back on the table. She wasn’t sure when she had grabbed it.

“Perhaps we should evaluate your tendency toward violence.” Wynbrook blotted his forehead with a handkerchief. “I thought you were being facetious.”

“Perhaps you should consider my mental stability before you put a price on my head,” snapped Kate.

“Your brother simply wished to make a connection with you desirable.”

Kate glared at him, and Wynbrook tugged at his waistcoat in a nervous fashion.

“More desirable than you already are,” he amended quickly.

Kate stepped closer, and this time Wynbrook held his ground. The air hummed around them and she felt fully alive. “Well, now that you have helped create this disaster, you can remedy it.”

“I am entirely at your service,” he said in a low tone that rumbled vibrations through her.

She stepped closer. “You need to get me out of this muddle. Either I will be obliged to stay home for the remainder of my life—not an entirely unwelcome idea—or you need to start circulating the rumor that we have lost our money or at least my dowry.”

“You cannot start a rumor of your own poverty without tarnishing your brother with the same brush.” He was being logical again.

“Perhaps we can circulate a story that I am mentally unstable or have the pox. Yes, that’s a capital idea. You can spread a rumor that I am infectious with some sort of tropical disease. That should keep them away.”

“You underestimate the lengths some men will go to restore their fortunes. They would still wish to marry you, then lock you up for being mentally unstable or infectiously febrile.”

“Oh, this is so unfair! I am returning to my initial inclination to do my brother bodily harm and flee to the Continent to live out my days as an expatriate.”

“Before you proceed, could you tell me how his desire to see you married is different from your desire to see him enter wedded bliss?”

Kate ground her teeth. “It is entirely different.”

“How so, exactly?”

“It just is.” She turned to walk away, stopped, and stomped back. “You are the most insufferable man I’ve ever met.” She took a deep breath, trying to get her emotions under better regulation. “I just thought you should know.”

“Duly noted. Though in my defense, I am generally considered good company. You, my dear, are the exception to the rule.”

“Perhaps I know you better than most.”

A slow, seductive smile made her toes curl inside her slippers. “Perhaps you do.”

Alarm bells rang in her head. Was she fighting with the man or flirting with him? Time to flee. She turned without a word and strode toward the ballroom, poised to make her grand exit. She stopped in the arched doorway. “They are waiting for me out there. Aren’t they?”

Wynbrook casually leaned a shoulder against the wall by the door. “Rumor began earlier this evening. I’m sure it has circulated to all interested parties by this time.”

“What will happen when I enter the ballroom?”

“I can think of twenty gentlemen, maybe more, who will vie for your attention.”

Kate sucked in a breath. “That is repugnant.”

“Oh, but it gets worse. They will flatter you, fight with each other, declare their undying love for you, and generally make themselves a nuisance.”

“I’m going to hurt him,” she muttered.

“Who is on your murderous list this time?” asked the amused man beside her.

“My brother. Sir Richard. Every man I meet.”

“You have a busy night ahead of you.”

She gazed at him with cool regard. “Is there another way out of here?”

Wynbrook gave her a lazy smile. “I am well acquainted with the Grant household.” He leaned forward as if to share a deep secret. “We share a tailor.”

“I will give you a stay of execution tonight if you get me out of here without having to walk through that ballroom.”

“I may know how to escape the gauntlet of flirtation, but I want more than a stay of execution. I’m holding out for a complete reprieve.”

“Because of you, I’m in this fix. Sorry, but justice must be done. You must answer for your crimes.”

“I suppose I deserve it,” said Wynbrook with a shrug. “But I remain steadfast. Enter the ballroom and expect to emerge with many new friends or find it in your heart to forgive.”

Kate stared out at the dancing couples. She had no desire to be pursued for her generous price tag.

“You might even be forced to dance,” whispered Wynbrook maliciously in her ear.

“Never,” growled Kate through gritted teeth.

“Or I can have you safe in the carriage in five minutes,” continued Wynbrook in a seductive tone.

“You are no gentleman.”

“No, I am a peer of the realm. Nothing could be worse.”

“Finally, something we agree upon.”

“What is your answer, milady?” purred Wynbrook. He knew he had her, the bastard. The right, perfect, handsome bastard.

“Fine. I grant you reprieve from being murdered in your bed tonight.”

“Bed? Tonight?” asked Wynbrook. “On second thought, perhaps I should take my chances. I did not know the bedroom would be the scene of my demise.”

“Too late. You are forgiven. Now get me out of here. Lord Fowler has spotted me and is coming this way.”

Wynbrook bowed, an unforgivably smug smile on his face, and held out his hand. “Come with me.”

Kate didn’t have time to hesitate. She placed her hand in his and he broke into a run, pulling her along with him. She picked up her skirts and smiled despite herself, for she knew this was dreadfully improper, which meant she liked it exceedingly well. He led them to the wall, no window or door in sight.

“Where are you going?” she hissed. “Lord Fowler will enter the dining room at any moment.”

“Here!” He touched the wall, and a door opened, a hidden passage for the servants to bring food to the dining room without walking through the main doorway.

Kate sprang into the dark passageway, heedless of the consequences. Wynbrook jumped in after her and closed the door behind him, leaving them in total darkness. It was only then that Kate decided she had been imprudent in following Wynbrook into whatever mischief he had in mind. Her grasp on appropriate behavior for unmarried females was tenuous at best, but she was reasonably certain she was not supposed to end up in a darkened servants’ passageway with one of the most eligible bachelors in Britain.

For a moment, she wondered if this had been his design; perhaps he numbered among those who wished to trap her into marriage. The thought no sooner flitted into her mind than it flew out. Wynbrook had no need for her funds, as well she knew. He also had no need to entrap anyone into marriage, not the way young women hung on his every word and anything else he might dangle before them.

“I hope shutting me into the pitch-black passage was not the full extent of your plan,” Kate said, whispering in case Lord Fowler was still in the dining room.

“You asked me to remove you from the ballroom and I have done so.”

“I hardly think standing in the servants’ passage of the house is any great improvement.”

“You are particularly difficult to please, my dear.”

“Indeed, I do not like to be hunted like a fox for my wealth, and I further dislike being shut into small spaces in total darkness with men I barely know. What an odd creature am I.”

“But you know me quite well. So you should be happy.” His voice was near, and she could smell the intoxicating scent of his cologne—or perhaps it was his own heady scent. She could not see him but she could sense his presence, his warmth. She knew if she were to reach out her hand, she would touch him. She was suddenly glad that it was dark, so he could not see the warmth that spread across her cheeks. It would certainly not do to let him know that he had any effect on her.

“Well then,” she said in her most reserved tone, “since we are such old friends, let us linger here in this musty passageway for a spell. You do take me to the nicest places.”

“Come along, then. I promised to have you in the carriage in five minutes and I’ll show you I can be a man of my word when I put my mind to it.”

“Do not tax yourself overmuch on my account.”

A small sigh escaped his lips, and she smiled in the darkness at the thought that one of her barbs had finally broken through the cool exterior.

“Here, take my hand.” He must have reached out his hand toward her, but of course she couldn’t see it. She stepped forward, reaching out her hands, but instead of finding his fingers, she found him, running smack into his chest. The contact was so unexpected, she jumped and was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Her hands rested on the silky smooth superfine of his exquisitely cut coat. Beneath the expensive fabric, she could feel the hard physique of his muscular chest.

“Didn’t mean to scare you. Are you all right?” He must have leaned down as he spoke, for his cheek brushed against hers once, twice, and remained there, their cheeks touching in the darkness. He always appeared smooth shaven, but she could feel the beginning of stubble as his cheek brushed against hers.

“Yes, I’m fine. I did not realize you were so close.” She turned her head as she spoke, not away from him but toward him, her lips moving dangerously close to his.

“My fault entirely.” His lips brushed ever so softly against hers as he spoke, his voice low and soft.

“Of course it is.” Her lips brushed against his again. She wasn’t sure if it was his fault or hers or pure accident. But no, this was no accident; this was intentional. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss him the way they had that fateful night so long ago. What was wrong with her?

She took a deep breath and stepped back, out of his embrace, instantly missing the feel of his lips on hers but knowing it was sheer madness. She didn’t even like him. And she knew perfectly well he did not like her. This was just folly brought on by standing in the dark. “We should… The carriage?”

“Yes, of course,” he said in a voice that didn’t sound quite like his. Gone was the smug superiority, the aristocratic hauteur. He began to walk slowly, holding her hand and guiding her down the passage.

What had she got herself into now?