If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) (8 page)

Kate wandered about Wynbrook House waiting for the gentlemen to return. Ellen and Jane had gone to bed, and the servants had retired for the night. There was no question of trying to sleep, not with her brother, Tristan, and Wynbrook confronting the worst sort of man. She was not afraid any harm would come to them. Robert knew what he was about and would keep the others safe. She did have a concern that the outcome would result in one or all of them having to escape to the Continent for doing something untoward, though completely deserved, to Sir Richard. After meandering through the portrait hall, the ballroom, and the library, it was simply inevitable that Kate would find herself at the door of Wynbrook’s study.

Kate entered the study, looking around her to make sure she was not seen, though she knew she was alone. She walked to the desk and held a candle up to the oak bookcase. Ledgers. Beautiful ledgers. When everything in the world was unraveling, numbers stayed the same. Numbers always added up the same way, and unlike the baffling field of human interactions, there was only one right answer.

She had always found arithmetic comforting, a convenient eccentricity. After they were orphaned at twelve, they discovered their steward had stolen everything, leading to the unfortunate incident in Fleet Prison. Arithmetic had saved her and their fortunes. She had a knack for it and for investing wisely. She had ensured they had been able to scrape by when Robert went to sea shortly after their release from prison. She managed the finances during his career in the Royal Navy and then when he resigned his commission to study at Cambridge. Even after he had turned to the more lucrative business of privateering, she had kept the books and doubled every doubloon they earned.

Kate stared at the ledgers of the Earl of Wynbrook. She was familiar with his financial holdings, since she had been advising him for years. When Wynbrook had asked Robert if he could contact Mr. Ashton for advice on a financial matter, she should have said no. Instead, she had taken up a correspondence with Wynbrook, assisting him with some financial difficulties.

At the time, she had told herself she simply wanted to help him since the loss of his parents was so new, and yet…it had been more than that. She ran her finger down the spine of the red leather ledger. She had wanted to maintain some connection with him—and if he ever found out, he would no doubt hate her for it.

She had no right. She should not be here. How could she explain if he caught her? She fingered the ledger and suddenly it was in her hands and then spread open on the desk. She breathed deeply of the seductive scent of leather binding.

She paused for a moment, but hearing nothing in the house, she scanned down the column, mentally adding and subtracting the sums in her head. She sat at the desk, dipped a quill in the ink, and corrected math errors as unobtrusively as she could.

The process brought forcibly back to mind the last time she had sat before these ledgers six years ago. It had been a few nights after the horrible accident. She had wandered the house, distressed, wanting to do something to help but not knowing what she could possibly do. She’d wandered into the study and found the financial ledger open on the desk with some glaring math errors. She had not been able to stop herself from fixing them—and then going back through the book to fix many more. She had thought she could help the family and no one would ever know.

She had been terribly wrong.

She could not stop the flood of memories that engulfed her, reminding her of things she had tried hard to forget. She was nineteen again, wracked with guilt over the horrible accident that took the lives of Lord and Lady Wynbrook.

Six years earlier, Kate had sat at the desk of old Wynbrook’s study. It was the day they had laid Lady and Lord Wynbrook to rest. Kate had known she had no business entering Lord Wynbrook’s study, but ledgers had always been a comfort to her. The multiple math errors she had discovered were too tempting to ignore. She had needed to do something, fix something, and what she could do was correct the books.

John’s young sisters, Ellen and Jane, remained upstairs, fighting for their lives, trying to recover from their injuries. Kate bent over her work, as if correcting math errors could heal them faster.

Suddenly, John Arlington staggered into the study in an uncharacteristic state of disrepair, his shirt open, his cravat missing. Kate was so surprised to see him in anything less than his immaculate, fashionable attire, she did not do anything to try to conceal her actions but froze before the ledger book, quill in hand.

“What are you doing?” He leaned heavily on the desk across from her, and she finally dropped the quill back into the inkwell. “This is the ledger of the Earl of Wynbrook. You have no right looking at it.”

“Yes, yes, of course. I was only trying to help.” Help that she had thought no one would ever see.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I wanted to do something; I wanted to help somehow.” Kate stood and walked around the desk. It was time to make a hasty retreat. “I do apologize,” she murmured as she passed John.

“I don’t know how to go on without him.” His voice was but a whisper, his face turned away from her. She was not sure if he was speaking to her or to himself.

Kate blinked away her own emotion, his anguish wrenching at her heart. “Your parents were the best of people.”

John nodded and reached one hand for the desk as if trying to hold himself up. He gulped air; the pain on his face was etched clear and deep.

“You shall survive this,” Kate encouraged.

John could only shake his head, his teeth clamped tightly together.

Kate was utterly unpracticed in the art of giving comfort but could not leave him in such despair. She patted his arm, and John covered her hand with his own. She knew she should take her hand away, but it did not seem kind, and more importantly, she didn’t want to.

“What am I to do?” John murmured so softly, Kate could barely hear. He took her hand in his, turning it until they were holding hands. It felt good. Right. Even though she knew they should not have been alone together at night. She had never before experienced such a war between her head and her heart.

“Forgive me. I am in no state for company.” He released her hand, staggered to a settee, and collapsed onto it. Kate began to walk to the open door. It was past time to leave. Behind her on the settee came the quiet noises of a young man, hardly more than a teenager himself, trying hard not to be heard crying.

She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, closed the door, and walked back to him. She sat down awkwardly beside him as he turned his face away. She was unsure what to do but knew she could not abandon him at such a time.

“It’s not your fault,” she said simply.

She touched a hand to his shoulder and suddenly he turned, wrapping his arms around her, leaning his head on her shoulder. She was surprised to be engulfed by such a large, muscular man. Was this an embrace? She had never experienced one before. Unsure of her movements, she wrapped her own arms around him. She had never before been so close to a man. The strangest part was that it was not strange at all. It felt natural, comforting, though she could never remember being consoled by anyone in such a manner.

John held her tight, his shoulders shaking. She responded by holding him tighter, rubbing her hands up and down his back. She was powerfully aware of his unique, intoxicating scent. She did not generally find the smell of men appealing, but with John, she breathed deeply.

Though she was supposed to be providing solace, she found comfort in his arms. He did not blame her. He was not angry at her. She took another breath and he did the same. He was no longer trembling but moved slightly, so that his cheek rested against hers.

The stubble on his face brushed against her cheek, rough and scratchy, yet she welcomed it. Every part of her that touched him burned with a heat that went straight to her core. She had no words for this strange, new experience, and so she clung to him, waiting and willing to experience whatever came next.

Her candle on the desk guttered, leaving them in darkness. His hand touched her cheek, cupping her face, gently turning her head toward him. His lips brushed across hers, warm and soft. His lips sought hers again and kissed her hard, bringing his hand around her head to prevent her from pulling away. He need not have bothered, for she had no intention of drawing back. He deepened the kiss, demanding and anguished, tasting of sorrow and desire. His hot tears fell on her cheeks, running down her face.

Time stopped and she knew not how long they kissed—desperate, mournful, passionate. Suddenly, it was not enough. He pushed her down on the cushions, running a hand up her leg, pulling up her nightgown. She should tell him to stop. Make him stop. But she didn’t wish him to stop.

What might have happened, Kate would never know. A scream had pierced the night, shocking them both back to reality. Whether it had been Jane or Ellen, she had not known, for both were suffering great pain from their injuries. John had rolled off her and staggered to his feet. A mumbled apology was all she had received before he had run out of the room.

* * *

Kate blinked, waking back from her memories into reality. She had not seen John again until they met yesterday in the bank. Over time, she had conveniently cast him in the role of the villain, but she knew he was so much more.

She was no longer the confused teenager who had met a grieving young man in the study that night. Yet when it came to John, now the Earl of Wynbrook, she was desperately unsure of herself. She was immune to the charms of men as a general rule. Lord Wynbrook was the one unfortunate exception. One dangerous exception.

The question for tonight was: Did she want to be caught again?

She turned back to the ledgers, back to her comforting number friends. They always added up the same. They never confused her. She reached for another ledger and lost herself in the allure of calculus.

“What are you doing?”

She found herself before the open ledger, an incriminating quill in her hand. Her heart began to pound. She had been caught red-handed.
Again
. Just the way part of her had known she would be.

Wynbrook stood in the doorway, alive, well, and immaculately dressed as if he had returned from the opera, not a meeting with a scoundrel. “You just can’t keep yourself out of my ledgers, can you?” He raised an eyebrow, amused.

This was her chance to talk to him. This was her chance to make sense of what had passed between them six years ago. But what did she need to say? What questions did she need to ask? Staring at the impeccably dressed, undeniably handsome Lord Wynbrook, her mind went blank. Now what was she going to do?

Kate stabbed the quill back into the jar of ink and jumped up from the desk, circling around it. “I do beg your pardon. I understand this is a gross invasion of your privacy, but I just needed to correct one or two, or, well, exactly fifteen math errors. How did it go with Sir Richard?”

“Fifteen math errors? Exactly how much of my ledger did you go through?” He was not to be dissuaded.

“It would have been a disservice if I had not gone through it all. But do tell me how it went with Sir Richard. I have not been able to sleep, wondering how your interview proceeded.”

“Finding you here tonight seems to bring back an old memory.” Wynbrook came closer and leaned next to her against the desk.

Kate swallowed convulsively. “No, I am sure it does not.”

“I rather think it does.”

“I’d rather if it did not.”

“Then why come here tonight and remind me?”

Kate took a breath. “An excellent question. When I have an answer, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Go ahead. I’ll wait.” His eyes blazed at hers as the silence stretched between them.

“I came here…” She had to think of something, but it was difficult to think standing so close to him. “I came here to extend my services to help hide the body if need be, as you offered to help me earlier this evening. Do tell me, did you leave Sir Richard in good health?”

Wynbrook raised an eyebrow. “So you came to offer mortuary services.”

Kate shrugged. “I thought of it more as accessory to murder.”

“Then I am sorry to disappoint but Sir Richard is alive, though perhaps not in as good health as he would wish. I must say, your brother does have a fine right hook.” Wynbrook’s smile was slow to build, warming places within her she would rather not acknowledge.

“Landed him a facer, did he?”

Wynbrook raised both eyebrows at her boxing cant, but answered, “Caught him in the eye. Will be quite the shiner by morning—handy too, as it will be a few days before he will be able to show his face in public.”

“I cannot say I am sorry to see him injured, and it was probably wise to avoid the inconvenience of concealing a murder.”

“Quite. In the end, we discussed things like reasonable gentlemen, or at least he came to see our point of view. He signed the document and took the money.” Wynbrook turned to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of brandy. “I must say I resent giving the bastard a single shilling, but I cannot allow Jane’s good name to be tarnished.”

“It is a sad world where the villain is rewarded.” Kate shook her head, thinking this might be a good time to make her escape.

Wynbrook sighed in response. He looked tired after the evening’s excitement. “Please do sit, Lady Kate. If you’re going to be conversing with me at this inappropriate time, we might as well make ourselves comfortable.” He sat down in one of the leather chairs by the waning fire, and Kate took a seat in the chair opposite him. She knew she should not have been there at all, but there was one thing more she needed to say.

“Please let me apologize for bringing to the fore the true nature of Sir Richard on the second day I am welcomed to this house.” The business with Sir Richard was just more confirmation that she was bad luck to all. “I do not like to cause everyone such distress.”

Wynbrook frowned at her. “You’ve done nothing to apologize for. It is Sir Richard who is the villain in this scenario. I only blame myself for not seeing through his facade sooner. If I had taken better care of Jane, this never would have happened. You saw his true nature within an hour of meeting him. I blame myself for being so blind.”