If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (12 page)

“Let me pass,” growled Kate, her heart beginning to beat a bit faster. What was this man playing at? Why was he trying to prevent her from leaving the balcony?

“Let us be completely frank, shall we? I was initially engaged to Lady Jane. You ruined it. My financial situation at the moment requires me to have a large sum at my disposal in the very near future, or I shall be forced to flee to the Continent.”

“Enjoy France,” said Kate without a hint of sympathy.

“I have no intention of leaving. Since you were the one to cause my current dilemma, it is only fitting that you should provide the solution or, more to the point, your dowry.”

“If you think I would marry you under any circumstances, you are very much mistaken.” Kate took a step to the right, but he anticipated and blocked her. She stepped to the left and he did the same. It was most annoying.

“Soon, you shall have no choice. We shall be discovered together on this balcony in a compromising position, and you will be forced to marry me.” He said this with such cold, calculating certainty that Kate, who had not felt the remotest bit of fear, now experienced a frozen sliver of dread creep down her spine.

“Let. Me. Go.” Her hands balled into fists at her side.

“You are mine,” he said with a snarl and grabbed her arms, pinning them to her sides and pulling her toward him. Anger, hot and raging, seethed within her. She slammed her knee up, causing her attacker to howl in pain as he clutched himself, bending over at the waist. She struck the heel of her hand into his nose and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch.

He fell to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. “You broke my nose! Oh, ow, ow, you broke my nose.”

Kate straightened her skirts and looked down at him with contempt. “Do not ever let me see you again, or your nose will be the least of your worries.”

“Kate! What happened here? Are you all right?” Wynbrook burst through the door.

“Yes, I am well. Only Sir Richard here attempted to trap me into marriage.”

“He did what?” roared Wynbrook, grabbing the man by the lapels of his jacket and dragging him to his feet. Kate had never seen Wynbrook more enraged. Was he going to do the man bodily harm?

“His attempts at seduction did not end well, unfortunately for him,” said Kate. “I do despise the man, but I would hate for you to have to answer awkward questions because you were forced to kill him. Do let us just leave him be. But how is it that you knew where to find me?”

Wynbrook scowled, but let Richard fall back to the ground. “Jane told me you had been directed to the blue room to meet your brother, a curious thing because I knew Dare had retreated to the library. I was immediately suspicious and it seems I should have been.”

“This is what comes from telling my brother to set my dowry at a ridiculous amount.”

“Please, let us not quarrel about that again. Your brother is only trying to protect you and provide you what you are worth. No one intended for you to be molested at a private ball.”

“I know he was trying to help,” conceded Kate.

“A pox on both of you,” sputtered Richard, struggling to regain his feet.

“What shall we do with this wastrel?” asked Kate.

From the room beyond, they could hear voices of people entering the blue sitting room, though the heavy brocade curtain kept them hidden for the moment. “I saw Lady Kate and Sir Richard sneak away here, I know I did. Far be it from me to turn a blind eye to such goings-on,” said a lady’s voice.

“I wish he weren’t here,” whispered Kate, motioning toward the seething form of Sir Richard.

He still held his nose with one hand, the blood continuing to drip down onto his snowy-white cravat. He held on to the stone balcony wall for support. “You broke my nose, you little bitch.”

Wynbrook said not a word but strolled directly over to Sir Richard and, with one good shove, knocked him clean off the balcony.

“Oh!” gasped Kate. “I told you not to kill him, though he did deserve it.” She ran over to the balcony wall and looked over. Sir Richard lay on a bushy hedge one floor below.

“Ow,” howled Sir Richard. “You ruined my best dinner jacket.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but he does not appear to be dead,” drawled Wynbrook.

“There! I told you we would find them here.” The woman Kate had seen before with Sir Richard swept back the curtain with supreme confidence, only to have her countenance twist into one of shock. “But where is Sir Richard?”

“Sir Richard is so deep in his cups he fell off the balcony,” said Wynbrook with a slow drawl. “Lady Katherine and I heard his plaintive cries and came to the balcony to see if we could render assistance. I fear someone may have to drive the poor sod home, for he is in no condition for public viewing. Quick now, somebody go down to the gardens and retrieve him from the rhododendron.”

Kate had to flick open her fan to hide a smile. “I suppose there is going to be quite a stir about this.”

“Fire!” someone shouted from inside the house. “Everyone outside!”

“Gracious! Has the tree lit up?” asked Kate as Wynbrook ushered her to the nearest exit. Everyone poured out of the house with tales of explosions and fire and possibly an exploding tree.

With shouts of “Make way!” several footmen and a few young gentlemen ran the sizzling tree out of the house and dumped it unceremoniously into the snow of the front lawn.

“Best Christmas party ever!” shouted Tristan in high spirits.

“Was anyone hurt?” asked Wynbrook.

“No, no, just a good deal of smoke. What fun!” answered Tristan.

Wynbrook ran back inside the ballroom to help escort out some of the elder attendees of the party. Kate followed to do the same and was not surprised to be passed by Robert, who was carrying out a portly matron who had apparently fainted at the excitement.

Kate was never one to run from danger. She took the arm of an elderly gentleman to help him outside and felt she had her feet under her again. Evacuating people from a fire was something she understood how to do.

After everyone had been escorted to safety, it took a bit to collect their wraps from the harried butler who was attempting to serve the crush of people standing on the front lawn. No one appeared injured, and the fire had apparently been put out in time.

“At least no one will remember the Sir Richard affair,” commented Wynbrook.

“True,” said Kate with a smile.

“Merry Christmas, Kate,” said Wynbrook.

“A happy Christmas to you too,” answered Kate, realizing that the only parts of the evening she had appreciated were those in the company of Wynbrook, even if they were also the moments of disaster. She had enjoyed it because she was able to face it all at Wynbrook’s side.

Too bad he was intended for someone else.

Kate had a problem.

It was Christmas.

The time of year some people gave gifts. She had never participated in such activities, but it seemed clear the Arlington family was among those people who did. They had graciously opened their home to her and her brother, sponsored them in society,
and
given them both entire wardrobes.

Gifts in return were required.

But what could she possibly give? The shops were all closed and she would not know what to buy even if they had been open.

She rummaged through the sea locker that held all her worldly belongings, wondering if somewhere in her meager belongings, gifts could be found. She pulled out her ledgers, precious only to herself, and her homemade clothes, rejected soundly by everyone in the house. Those things would not do. She removed her traveling desk, so beaten and worn it could be appreciated only by the one who used it. She tossed aside a stack of unopened letters tied in string from their godfather, General Roberts. He had not been there to help when they needed him, so why should they acknowledge him now? She had considered tossing the letters into the fire but somehow could never bring herself to do it. Instead, she kept each one and tied them together, unopened.

At the bottom of the chest, she removed an old hatbox tied in ribbon. She had not looked in the box for a long time, for it held memories, and memories and she did not get along. She slowly untied the ribbon and opened the lid. These were her treasures, the things she had taken with her to school before her father passed, and a few things she had picked up along the way.

She spread them out on her bed and made her selections, wrapping them carefully in parchment paper and sealing them with wax. The gifts to the ladies of the house would be from her, and the gifts to Wynbrook and Tristan she signed from Robert. Satisfied that everything was correct and proper, she placed her remaining items back in the tattered hatbox.

She left her gifts on the bed, to be easily retrieved when the time was right. In respect to the holiday, Wynbrook had given the servants the day off. Some of them visited family if they were local in London, and others retreated to the servants’ quarters for a celebration of their own. A cold supper had been prepared in advance for the family to enjoy, and afterward, the family gathered around the fire in the sitting room.

Seated comfortably in an armchair, Kate had the ridiculous notion to lean back and relax. She would never actually do such a thing, but the temptation proved to her how comfortable she was feeling within this family group.

The family was seated around the fire in a cozy half circle. Robert was next to her, then Jane, then Tristan, Ellen in her rolling chair, and across from Kate was Wynbrook, John Arlington himself, looking comfortable yet daring with the firelight glinting in his eyes. Perhaps he was even more dangerous when he was relaxed, for he appeared even more handsome in repose. Truly, the man was not safe. Not for her.

“Now for the best part,” said Tristan with a gleam in his eye.

Kate thought it must be the presents, but instead, he knelt by the fire with a bag of sifted sugar, some bottles of flavorings, and a pan. He mixed sugar and lemon juice and began to bring it to a boil over the fire.

“Do you remember doing this at Cambridge?” asked Tristan with a grin.

Indeed she did. Fondly. Tristan often would come to their lodgings with an armful of fixings for sugar drops, and the three of them—Kate, Robert, and Tristan—would eat sweets and study into the cold winter nights. Or at least, she and Robert would study while Tristan made the sweets. She prepared more than one paper for the fun-loving Tristan. She enjoyed reading his books and doing his work. Had she been able, she would have enjoyed attending university. Technically, Tristan had graduated with a degree in the law, but it was Kate who had benefitted the most from his education.

“Ah, I haven’t done this since I left the nursery!” Wynbrook exclaimed, and to her surprise, he joined his brother, kneeling by the fire to make the candy. When the mixture was almost at a boil, they removed it from the fire and began to swirl silver wire around the edges to form a lemon drop, and then plunked it down onto a tin plate to cool.

“Do you remember trying to hide the candy from Nanny Forman?” Tristan told the tale, and soon, all the Arlington family was laughing. Robert even formed something close to a smile. It was quite a night.

“Is it time for presents?” asked Jane with a happy smile.

“Yes, indeed!” Wynbrook cried and reached into his breast pocket to retrieve envelopes for his siblings. “Open them! These gifts were too large to wrap in boxes, so I made a few notes.”

“Oh!” cried Jane. “A new feather bed! Thank you!”

“The set of bays I was admiring at Tatt’s?” Tristan sprang to his feet and jumped up and down in a most unsophisticated manner. “Thank you!”

“Just do not kill yourself,” admonished Wynbrook.

“I shall try, for you. Ah, but what a way to go.” Tristan’s grin was infectious.

“Oh, John, a new pony cart?” Ellen’s face was radiant.

“So you can decide where you want to go,” said Wynbrook. “I had this pony especially trained for you to be able to handle.”

“That is so thoughtful. Thank you!” Ellen grinned at her elder brother with a tear of joy in her eye.

Kate wanted to cry too but for different reasons. Her gifts were shabby indeed compared to those from the master of the house. Ellen, Jane, and Tristan now exchanged gifts, all thoughtful, expensive, and time-consuming. The girls gave handmade embroidered items that must have taken them months to complete. Tristan gave a fancy watch fob to Wynbrook and lovely jewel necklaces to the girls. Of course, Robert and Kate had already received gifts, but they still received embroidered handkerchiefs.

Throughout the merriment, Kate felt herself sinking into her chair. She would have dropped through the floor into the kitchen if possible. Robert gave her a raised eyebrow. She had mentioned at dinner that she had gifts for the Arlington family, but how could she give her poor offerings now?

“We also have something for each of you,” said Kate in a hesitant tone. “I shall just go to my room to fetch them.” She grabbed a candle and left the room on light feet. She had a new plan. She would run up to the room and prepare envelopes for each of them, writing in some large gift. Her original items would be stuffed back in her sea locker and never considered again.

She dashed up the stairs, determined to work quickly to avoid detection. She reached the floor where her bedroom was located and came to a dead stop. Her door was ajar and a shaft of light emanated from it. What was this? The servants had the day off and all the family was downstairs. She pressed herself to the wall and blew out her candle.

Slowly she crept forward. Through the crack in the door she saw two men in silhouette, rummaging through her sea locker. Without making a noise, she removed the knife she kept strapped to her calf. One man grabbed her ledger and ripped out some of the pages.

Kate gasped.
He ripped her ledger!

Before she could think, she jumped into the doorway, brandishing the knife, screaming, “Thieves! Unhand those papers, you bastards!”

The men spun, but with scarves wrapped around their faces, she could not identify who they were.

“Dammit!” shouted one of the men. The other dropped the papers and ran into one of the conjoining bedrooms.

“Get back here! It’s just a girl!” demanded the man, but his friend was in fast flight, the banging of the door in the next room a clear indicator that the man had escaped out into the corridor. The remaining thief grabbed the papers and bolted after his friend.

“Robert, John, come help! Thieves!” she screamed. She ran out the bedroom door, knowing the man had only one way out, determined to head him off. She ran to the open side bedroom door and banged it shut just as the thief was trying to make his exit.

“Ow, my nose,” he shouted, along with a foul curse.

Kate had been on ships too often to be affected by language, no matter how offensive. She wrenched the door back open and grabbed the pages out of the stunned man’s hand.

He grasped the wrist of her hand that held the knife and twisted hard until the blade fell. “You give those back, you little—”

“Kate, what is—” Wynbrook appeared at the top of the stairs and let out an unholy shout of rage. He ran screaming down the hall, his face twisted into utter fury, with Robert right behind him.

The man wisely turned tail and ran. Kate clutched the papers to her chest and slumped against the wall in relief. Her brother raced by her without a word, running after the would-be thief who had disappeared down the servants’ stairwell.

Wynbrook was by her side in a flash, wrapping his arms around her. She was definitely not the fainting type, but just for a moment, she leaned back into the warmth of the Earl of Wynbrook.

And it felt good.

“Are you well? Were you hurt?” asked Wynbrook. “Here, let us get you back to your room,” he continued without waiting for a reply. Before she knew it, he had picked her up in his arms, carrying her easily into her bedroom, now in cluttered disarray.

“I am well. Do put me down. I am fine.” The words were spoken without the bite that would have naturally accompanied them. She did not mind being carried about by him, though she knew she really ought to object.

Wynbrook set her gently on her bed and then sat himself beside her, ignoring any shred of propriety. “This is infamy! That a man could be robbed in his own home on Christmas Day, it is the very peak of villainy itself!”

Kate had never seen Wynbrook so enraged. Not even when he was plotting the demise of Sir Richard had his color heightened so. “It is well now. I have my pages,” said Kate, setting a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“If anything had happened to you…” He did not finish the sentence but shook his head with gritted teeth.

Kate patted his shoulder again, wondering if his concern would be the same for anyone or if it related to her specifically. Whether from the excitement of the foiled burglary or the man sitting so close to her, her heart skipped along merrily.

“Did they steal anything?” asked John. It was impossible for her to think of him as Wynbrook when he sat so close.

“I do not know.” Kate stood and began to gather the things that been tossed about the room. Her hatbox had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor and she knelt down to retrieve her things. John came beside her to help, and she raced to get her belongings back in the box before he could see. She felt naked before him, her life splashed across the floor.

“Were these your parents?” he asked, picking up a set of miniatures and replacing them in their box.

Kate only nodded.

“You have your mother’s eyes.”

Kate gazed at her mother, the woman she had never known. “She died bringing Robert and me into the world. My father was gone at sea much of our early years, serving as a captain and then an admiral in the Royal Navy.”

“I understand he was raised from a barony to an earldom for services rendered to the Crown.”

Kate looked up sharply, wary for any tone of condescension, but she noted none. “Yes. He discovered a traitor in a Captain Harcourt, who had for the love of money put a flotilla of ships in danger, one of which carried several of the royal princes. My father exposed the plot and saved them from death or capture.”

“He was a brave man, your father.”

“I wish I had known him better. He returned nearly blind from a gunpowder flash that afflicted his eyes. He was sick for a while before he finally passed.”

“I am sorry to hear it. What ailed him?” John asked gently.

Kate paused. “I do not know. After he died, we returned and discovered our fortune had been stolen and we were left deeply in debt.”

John frowned. “Your fortune stolen? Who did that?”

Kate sighed. “We never could find the culprit. It is one thing about my past I wish I knew.”

John put a hand on her shoulder, and his comfort warmed her soul. His eyes met hers, and their gazes held as the clock quietly ticked out the seconds. As if catching himself, he removed his hand and let it come to rest on the nearest object.

“Is this your brother’s?” asked John, picking up the glazed medal with a white ribbon, edged in blue.

Kate stared at the medal dangling from his hand and said nothing.

“What action was this from?” asked Wynbrook, turning the medal over to read the inscription.

“The Battle of the Nile,” she responded, her throat dry. She had a sudden impulse to tell him, to confess the things she had shut away in the box.

“Got away.” Robert barged into the room, his expression one of disgust. “Rummaged through my room too but took nothing. It does not appear they searched through any other room. Did they get anything?”

“No,” said Kate, swooping the medal out of Wynbrook’s hand and stuffing the remaining items back into the hatbox. “Ripped pages from my ledger though. Why are they targeting us?” An old apprehension crept back up her spine.

Robert came to inspect the pages that had been torn. “The accounts of our latest prizes.”

“Maybe they are looking for an accounting of your treasures.” Wynbrook stood and offered her his hand in gallant fashion.

Kate stared at the proffered hand longer than was the social norm before accepting it gingerly.

“First the attempt on the
Lady Kate
, then our lodging house, and now this. Don’t like it by half,” growled Robert.

“I suppose the news of your immense fortune has made wicked men bold in trying to claim some for their own. Have you buried any of it anywhere? A secret map perhaps?” asked Wynbrook, his charm returning, though Kate would not soon forget the real flesh-and-blood man beneath the polished exterior.

“Bury the gold and forsake the interest? I should say not!” declared Kate, brushing out her skirts.

“You remind me of your cousin,” said Wynbrook mildly. Kate stared at him, but there did not seem to be any hidden meaning. “He is a master with investments.”