One Tempting Proposal (24 page)

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

T
HE HOUSEKEEPER DIDN'T
bat an eye when Seb requested an unexpected luncheon be laid out for six. Indeed, the staff introduced him to a part of the house he hadn't even known existed, taking advantage of the warm spring day to prepare a table under the arbor in the house's back garden.

As they gathered in the drawing room and waited for the food to be carried out, Seb offered Kat his study or the family sitting room for Ollie and Harriet to speak alone.

“Hattie says she's not ready.” Kat tugged at the ribbon on the front of her skirt as she spoke quietly to him in the hall outside the drawing room, turning her head to watch her sister, who sat alone on the settee.

Seeing the young woman without Ollie seemed odd. From the moment Seb met her, the two had been all but inseparable. He'd been so thrilled at the notion of Ollie finally settling down that he could easily imagine the two married, the children they'd have, the contentment he hoped they'd find together.

Ollie stood at the room's only window, his back to all of them, with Pippa by his side. With his shoulders hunched, Ollie appeared smaller, vulnerable, the boy he'd spent his school days defending. And Pippa looked bereft. Seb had never seen the helpless look his sister wore now, but he understood it. The desire to comfort when the wound itself was still a mystery. He wanted to lift the misery that had descended over all of them.

“May we speak, Kat, alone?”

He feared she'd refuse, rejecting the notion of focusing on anything but her sister and whatever was amiss between Hattie and Ollie, but she dipped her head in agreement and started toward his study.

When he closed the door and turned to her, she stepped close and slid her hands under his suit jacket to wrap her arms around him, resting her head against his chest.

Pleasure rushed him as he embraced her, ebbing up into desire so intense he feared he held her too tight.

“Your heart's racing.” The tenderness in Kat's voice tightened his chest.

“Yes, that's what you do to me.”

She lifted her head to gaze at him and a tear glittered at the edge of her lower lash.

Comfort. She needed comfort. He stroked a circle across her back, the way his mother had soothed him as a child.

She pulled away and lifted his other hand to her chest, above the ribbons and frills of her neckline, pressing his palm to her warm flesh. Her heartbeat thudded against his hand.

“Mine too.”

He held her gaze, fighting the urge to kiss her, ignoring the desire reflected back at him and focusing on the tear that still hadn't fallen onto her cheek.

“Will you tell me?” His question lost him her gaze. She turned her head, staring at the wallpaper, and bit the edge of her lower lip with her teeth.

Perhaps she thought it a private matter between Harriet and Oliver, but they'd met over the hope of seeing the two wed. He wanted Ollie's happiness as much as she cared for her sister's.

“Has she decided not to marry him?” He prayed Ollie's changeable nature hadn't cost him the love of a young woman who seemed to adore him. “Has Ollie disappointed her?”

Kat snapped her to gaze at him and placed her hand on his chest. “No, not at all. And it isn't so much about what Harriet wants as what my father does.”

Of course. How could have he missed the obvious? Yet Clayborne had already given his consent. Why withdraw it now?

“Do you recall Lord Ponsonby from your aunt's ball?”

“The one who eyed you as if he was starving and you were his next meal?”

She winced and nodded, the movement setting the tear free to trail down her cheek.

Realization hit with a sickening weight. “He wants Harriet to marry Ponsonby?”

Kat pulled away from him and took two steps to sink into one of the chairs arranged near the fireplace.

“I'm sorry, Sebastian. I asked you to lie to your family, your friends, and it was all for nothing.”

Moving to kneel in front of her, he waited for Kat to meet his gaze.

“No apologies, and no more lies. I want to marry you. If you'll have me.”

The moment stretched on endlessly and in the silence he could hear her father's voice, the amusement in his tone as he informed Seb that his was the seventh request for Kat's had in marriage. She'd turned down six other men, probably titled, perhaps wealthier, certainly more accomplished at social graces and polite conversation. One of them had certainly been Ponsonby.

She pressed her hand against his cheek. “Sebastian, I . . . “

Hurrying her made no sense. Why was he on bended knee when he could still see concern for her sister written all over her face?

“Kat, you don't have to say anything you don't—­“

Lifting her hand, she brushed a finger over his mouth to quiet him.

“I love you.”

The impact of the bullet from Alecia's lover's gun was nothing to the explosion that wreaked Seb's body at those three words again from Kat. Relief melted the tension he'd been holding since they'd parted, and he hauled her into his arms, finding heaven in the sweetness of her lips, the eagerness with which opened for him to taste her.

He lifted his head to gaze into her eyes. Beyond her poise and elegance, past the beauty that caught everyone's notice, in Kat's eyes he'd always read the truth of her feelings. Even when her expression didn't match her gaze, he believed the emotion he read in her eyes.

Now he saw love that matched her words, excitement echoing his own, and a shadow of worry he wanted to erase.

“Yes,” she whispered in the inch of air between them.

“Yes?” For a moment, he'd gotten lost in the pleasure of holding her, her now familiar lily of the valley scent, and the certainty that she returned his feelings.

“You did ask me to marry you, I think.”

He kissed her again, deeply but tenderly, as if this was the moment of their solemn vows and oaths. He was ready to bind himself to her tonight if given half the chance.

She lifted her head, the happiness in her eyes diminished by the frown on her face. “Harriet still wishes to marry Oliver. She simply fears defying my father.”

If he were in Ollie's position, he'd start planning an elopement to Gretna Green, as the ­couple had once considered themselves.

Seb opened his hand and she fit hers inside before they both clasped their fingers tight.

“Let's go see what we can do.”

W
ITH HIS HAND
in hers, Kitty believed they might truly be able to find a solution. Her father wouldn't get his victory, but he didn't always have to win. Surely Hattie's contentment trumped his pride.

Pippa rushed up as they exited the study. “Thank goodness you two have decided to come out. The table's ready for us in the garden.”

Returning to the drawing room, Sebastian's sister gathered Hattie and Ollie, and then led all of them to the back garden.

“Sit wherever you like,” Pippa announced when they reached the prettily laid table with pitchers of lemonade, a variety of cold meats and sandwiches, fruits, and an impressive array of sweets. A bee buzzed above the spread, but Kitty knew the little worker was more interested in the lovely roses climbing the trellis against the edge of the arbor than any of the food below.

She glanced at her sister, hoping Hattie might take a place next to Ollie, but she immediately seated herself at the round table next to Pippa. Taking the chair on her sister's other side, Kitty left the remaining spaces for Sebastian and Ollie.

Sebastian sat next to her and reached out to give her hand a reassuring squeeze under the table. The joy of what they'd just shared, confessing her feelings and seeing every measure of it reflected in his eyes—­all of it dimmed the minute she sensed the tension in Hattie's posture as she sat beside her.

Amid the clink and clatter of silverware on porcelain, Kitty noted two conversations taking place, with Pippa in the middle. Hattie and Pippa seemed to be continuing an earlier chat about frightening books and haunted castles, but when the conversation waned, Pippa whispered now and then in Ollie's direction, sometimes raising a fleeting grin on the young man's face.

Kitty hadn't noticed such closeness between Pippa and Ollie before, but perhaps it made sense. If Seb viewed the man as a brother, Oliver and Pippa would have formed a sort of sibling amity.

And yet . . . there was something more. Pippa watched him a bit too long, especially when he was unaware of her examination, especially when Ollie ducked glances at Harriet, his expression seesawing between worry and hope. If a young woman looked at Sebastian like that, she'd be simmering with jealousy, if not boiling over.

“Pippa, I'm surprised no young gentleman at the university has caught your eye.”

Seb released her hand the minute the words were out of her mouth, and all conversation at the table died.

Hattie turned to look at Pippa, as they all had.

“I am not . . .” Pippa swallowed, flicked her gaze to Oliver's face, and then reached for her lemonade. She tipped the crystal tumbler against her water goblet, nearly upending them both and Oliver reached out to assist her. When he inadvertently touched her hand, she pulled her arm back as if she'd been stung.

“I do not attend university to catch a husband.” Pippa's shaky voice contrasted with her strident tone. “I go to study mathematics.”

“And very successfully.” Sebastian leaned an inch toward her as he praised Pippa, as if to emphasize his point.

Kitty couldn't look at him. She sensed tension in him now. Her sister sat stiff and miserable beside her, and he was no doubt displeased with her for challenging Pippa. Yet if she could get Harriet to see Pippa's admiration for Oliver, perhaps jealousy might spark her into action. Give her the strength to defy their father and make a future of her own choosing.

“I say no Cambridge man interests you because you've lost your heart closer to home.” Kitty heard herself speaking in the same caustic tone she'd used during years of sparring with Cynthia Osgood. The same pettiness welled up too, the callous pleasure of landing a blow with a few carefully chosen words. She flushed, heat rushing up her face just as Pippa's face went crimson. “Have you told him of your feelings?” She shifted her gaze to glance momentarily at Ollie, and then looked back at Pippa. “Men can be so oblivious sometimes.”

A piercing screech, the sound of Sebastian's chair as he pushed it behind him to stand, tore at the haze of ugliness Kitty had wrapped herself in. A chill swept over her skin. A clammy trickle of perspiration slid down her nape. She shivered and turned to Hattie, who'd clasped a hand to her mouth.

Sebastian moved around the table to stand behind Pippa, but she bolted from the table before he could touch or comfort her. Ollie rose next, his mouth pulled tight as he nodded once to Hattie and then turned to march determinedly along the path of Pippa's retreat into the house.

Hattie leaned toward her, whispering in her ear. “Kitty, we should take our leave.” But her sister's small tremulous voice seemed far away.

Only Sebastian drew her back. He was a tall black-­clad shape in the center of her vision, but she lifted her gaze slowly, knowing, fearing what she'd see in his eyes. She lingered on his strong square jaw, traced the shape of his beautiful mouth, and then finally met his gaze.

Worse, far worse than she'd feared. He didn't look at her with anger or even disgust, he stared at her with the same chilled look of disappointment she'd read in her father's eyes a thousand times.

The pain of displeasing her father had dulled long ago, but to see it now in Sebastian's blue gray gaze made it fresh, a hot searing burn in the center of her chest. The sting of it took her air until each breath brought a twinge of pain.

None of her intentions about spurring Hattie into action excused her. This scheme, like all her others, had come to nothing. Nothing but pain. Misery that multiplied the longer Sebastian stood watching her.

“Please, Kitty.” Hattie tugged at her sleeve, her voice desperate and shrill. “I think we must take our leave now.”

“Yes.” She was surprised she managed the word. All her energy went with the effort, but she knew she still required a bit of strength to stand. She reached out to brace her hands on the table, nearly upsetting her plate, and ignored the stitch of pain in her middle to breathe as deeply as she could. As she pushed herself up, she saw Sebastian move, a blur of black in her peripheral vision. His large hand gripped her arm as he lifted her, helping her to stand.

“T-­thank you.”

He embraced her with one arm once she was upright, but she couldn't look into his eyes again, couldn't bear to see her failure reflected back at her.

Hattie took her arm. “Thank you, Your Grace. I can see to my sister.”

But that wasn't the way of it. Hattie was the one who needed looking after. Hattie was the one whose heart was broken.

Kitty steadied her breath. Her father taught her to be strong.
Never display weakness. Never cry or lose oneself in sentiment. Never let them best you.

“No, Hattie. Go inside. I shall be there directly.”

Hattie obeyed reluctantly, glancing up at Sebastian and then at Kitty's face before finally releasing her arm and slowly trailing the others' steps back into Wrexford House.

The afternoon sun bore down on them but Kitty's skin pebbled with gooseflesh. That persistent bee buzzed past as she waited for Sebastian to speak, giving him the chance to rail at her, to chastise her as she deserved. Just as he had the first time she'd met him.

Somehow he'd seen past her bad behavior then and come to love her, want her, and ask for her hand in marriage. But he wouldn't overlook this blunder. This lapse hadn't wounded a stranger in a ballroom. She'd hurt his sister. His beautiful clever sister, who'd probably never disappointed her father or anyone else in her life.