One Tempting Proposal (25 page)

“I'm sorry.” She felt so much more regret than those two words could convey. “Please tell Pippa I'm sorry.”

When he made no reply, Kitty moved out of his embrace, away from the heat of his arm against her body. That magnet pull between them tugged at her as she strode away, and the burning in her chest turned frigid, chilling her to the bone.

“Kat?”

She didn't look back when he called to her, didn't know what more to say. She'd ruined everything. She hadn't helped her sister, and now she'd injured his. If he'd done the same to Hattie, Kitty wasn't sure she could forgive him. She wasn't sure she could forgive herself.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I
DON'T APPROVE
of running away.” Pippa sat on one of the plush sitting room chairs, her legs tucked underneath a knitted throw, and a steaming teacup cradled in her hands. “But I can't say I'll miss London.”

He wouldn't miss London either. The memories of the past week—­had it truly only been a week?—­spun endlessly in his mind.

For two days the staff had been busying themselves preparing to close up Wrexford House and pack the family's essential belongs for their departure back to Roxbury. For the last forty-­five minutes Seb sat staring at a blank sheet of paper, unable to settle the whirlwind of his thoughts long enough to convey anything sensible in written words. He'd sent one short note to Kat the morning after the incident in the garden asking to call on her, letting her know of their plan to return to Cambridgeshire, but he'd received no reply. Despite her silence, he'd called at Clayborne House the next day and been turned away at the door. Their train was due to depart in two hours, and this second letter in the afternoon post would be his last chance to say good-­bye.

“You could simply try calling on her again. Push in. Insist she see you. Surely you can convince a housemaid to let you in,” Pippa said, her tone matter-­of-­fact.

“I have considered it. And reconsidered it, and changed my mind again.”

Pippa had recovered as Seb knew she would, though she'd spoken to him more openly than he'd expected of her feelings for Ollie. She seemed to find them as confusing as Seb did disconcerting. Speaking in lighter tone than her usual low rich timbre, she'd made light of what she dismissed as a foolish infatuation. “I'm far too clever for Ollie,” she'd teased. Seb agreed entirely with her assessment.

For Ollie's part, the poor man seemed none the wiser about Pippa's admiration, even after Kat's pointed barbs. He knew Pippa had been embarrassed, but Ollie believed her feelings to be for a gentleman she'd met during their time in London. When Pippa begged him, Seb had been all too happy not to disabuse Ollie of the notion.

Pippa put aside her teacup and stretched her arms in the air. “You know when you think too much, it only leads to inertia.”

He laid down his pen and stared at his sister. “You might be too clever for any of us, Pippa.”

“Nonsense. That would make for a lonely life.”

He didn't want that for her. He didn't want it for himself.

“Perhaps we should call on her together. I can reassure her that I'm well and forgive her, and you can . . .” She eyed him, twisting her mouth as if, with a bit of concentration, she could divine his thoughts. “You can tell her whatever it is you wish to say.”

“I asked her to marry me.” The words raked across his tongue, so painful he imagined he could taste blood on his tongue.

Pippa stared at her hands folded tightly in her lap a moment before raising her head. “I don't wish to be the reason you won't marry her.”

“You're not.”

Kat was the reason he was reconsidering their engagement, reconsidering the mad rush of hope and future happiness he'd let himself embrace.

She'd stood in his study days before and insisted on how little they knew each other, yet even then he'd believed he could perceive the heart of who she was. He could trust that the beauty he saw every time he looked at her wasn't just skin-­deep. That her cleverness, her loyalty, her wit, her innate goodness were bone deep. That she was practiced at artifice but did not possess the heart of a liar. She might have been taught by her father to be cruel, but he could never imagine Kat capable of Alecia's craven malice.

He didn't believe even it now. Yet she'd hurt Pippa, purposely, ruthlessly. For what? If her motive was to help Hattie, how had humiliating Pippa brought her sister and Ollie any closer?

Ollie had gone to Clayborne House after the incident and been turned away. As far as Seb knew, he and Harriet hadn't communicated since.

Kat's ugliness hadn't produced a bit of good, and it had pierced him far deeper than it had Pippa.

Her apology had seemed sincere, and he'd seen the horror in her own eyes at the realization of what she'd done. Yet he had not found forgiveness as easy as Pippa, who'd urged him that same night to make amends with Kat.

He'd always held grudges longer than she did. Forgiveness was an empty well inside of him. He still needed to find enough to forgive Alecia. And he knew forgiveness would free him. That had seemed possible with Kat in his life. But now nothing about his future was clear, except that the clock on the wall ticked on relentlessly, and their train departed for Roxbury in less than two hours.

K
ITTY CONSIDERED I
GNORING
her father's summons. They'd spoken more in the past few days than they had in months. And she didn't have the energy or desire to speak to anyone. Window watching seemed her main preoccupation, staring through the panes and battling the yearning to see the Wrexford brougham pull up to their patch of pavement or glimpse Sebastian himself, as his long confident stride carried him to her front door.

“Tell my father I shall be down directly.” The poor maid had waited in the doorway long enough for her answer, and she'd hidden up in her room like a sullen child for as long as any grown woman should be allowed.

She stepped in front of the long mirror to take in her reflection. But for the crescents of shadowed skin under her eyes, she looked much as she always did—­hair neatly arranged, fashionable clothes hugging her figure just so. A flawless woman without spot or stain. But underneath, below the skin, in her heart, the flaws had always been there. Pettiness and cruelty that she knew how to wield like a weapon. That she'd used to hurt the sister of the man she loved.

As she made her way down to her father's study, she marveled at the notion he was more likely to be proud of how she'd struck out at Pippa—­he had taught her to use others' weaknesses to her advantage—­than for anything she'd accomplished with benevolent intentions, like the charity work she'd helped organize with her Women's Union and the way she'd brought the conservatory to life.

“You know I have no tolerance for melodrama. I understand you would not take breakfast, and you did not come down for dinner last evening.”

He'd never been concerned with whether or not she took her meals, but he disliked irregularity. He preferred discipline, order. He hadn't missed her at breakfast, but perhaps her absence had meant there were too many pieces of toast left on the sideboard or too many plates laid at table.

“Your sister says you've had a falling out with Wrexford.”

So he'd called her down for an interrogation. She'd lost their family a duke and all the influence his wealth might bring.

Kitty offered her father one sharp nod. She wouldn't parse the details of the last time she'd seen Sebastian. The last time she might ever see him. She couldn't tell that story without tears, and she refused to give her father that. Ever.

“Perhaps it's for the best.” Her father's tone was neutral, giving nothing away. Yet she couldn't imagine he approved of her break with Sebastian, unless he meant to foist her off on Ponsonby. At least it would free Harriet from that fate.

She'd turned her head down to study the carpet, anything to avoid meeting his cool gaze, but his declaration shocked her, as his words often did. “You're pleased to hear the news?”

“I am no longer surprised by your rejection of any suitor.”

Snapping her gaze to his, Kitty sensed none of the anger she'd anticipated. Just resignation.

Her father rose from his desk chair. “Would you join me in the drawing room, Katherine?”

Body stiffening at the request, she shook her head. “Why can't we continue to speak here, Papa?”

“We have a guest in the drawing room. I would like you to join us.”

There was only one person she wished to see and her body fizzed with anticipation. Could Sebastian be here? Just down the hall?

Her father had already approached the threshold of his study and held out his hand to urge her forward. “Come, Katherine. Let's not leave our guest waiting.”

She stood to follow him. Sebastian would have asked to see her, and any of the maids would have brought him up, or at least let her know he was in the house. If her father had somehow kept them apart, why this elaborate dance of inviting her to his study and then into the drawing room? Did he simply want to watch the breaking of their engagement firsthand? She knew full well why she'd lost the chance at a future with Sebastian, but she couldn't fathom her father's reasons for no longer favoring their match in the first place.

“Lady Naughton.”

Before she even stepped over the threshold, Kitty spied Alecia Naughton standing in front of the settee, her hands crossed daintily in front of her.

“Please, ladies,” Father said, directing them. “Let us sit.”

The lady perched as warily on the edge of the settee as Kitty balanced near the front of her chair. Seeing the woman took Kitty back to the night Alecia found her in Lady Stamford's garden with Sebastian. She was the first person Kitty told about their engagement, and now she understood the emotion on Lady Naughton's face that night.

She'd loved Sebastian once and lost him, and Kitty knew that agony now too.

“Lady Naughton has come to impart some rather sensitive and shocking information regarding her connection with the Duke of Wrexford.”

Alecia ducked her head before blinking up at Kitty innocently.

“She says that her son is—­”

“No.” Kitty cut off her father's words and fire sparked in Lady Naughton's cool gaze.

“Katherine!”

She ignored her father's shout and Lady Naughton's glare and turned to face her father.

“The lady is lying, Papa. Prior to our break, Sebas—­Wrexford informed me that he'd learned the allegation was false. Lady Naughton's son is too young to be his child.”

Kitty had never been so grateful to her father as when he paused and considered her words, and then cast Lady Naughton a dubious stare.

“How old is your son, Lady Naughton? When was he born?”

Alecia cleared her throat and spoke with a soft breathy timbre. “Archie is ten years old, my lord, and takes after the duke in so many ways.”

“I met the boy in Hyde Park, Papa. He's far too small to be ten years old, and he bears no resemblance to the duke whatsoever.”

Her father tapped his foot against the Aubusson rug and then reached up to stroke his beard, all the while studying Lady Naughton's face, no doubt seeking the truth beyond her façade of feigned innocence.

“What do you say to that, Lady Naughton?”

“Might I speak to your daughter alone, my lord?”

As she asked the question, Lady Naughton ignored Kitty completely and oozed sweetness in her father's direction. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, Kitty couldn't gauge his reaction. Had the lady's lies convinced him too?

“No, I think not, Lady Naughton.” Apparently not. “I find this all rather irregular.”

Undaunted, Alecia turned directly to Kitty, reaching out a hand as if she might touch her, though she sat too far away to do so.

“Please, Lady Katherine. Might I just have a moment of your time?”

Her father didn't allow Kitty a chance to reply before rising to his feet, a clear sign of dismissal. “The answer remains the same, Lady Naughton. Good day to you.” He didn't even offer the lady a nod before turning to Kitty. “Katherine, come with me.”

She was as eager to be done with Alecia Naughton as he was. Yet his commanding tone set her teeth on edge. And something in the woman's beseeching gaze made her curious.

“It's all right, Papa. Might I speak to Lady Naughton? Just for a moment.”

The tension of challenge and control zinged between them, as it had so many times before. One momentarily scrunched eye was her sign he'd relent.

“A brief moment, I will allow.” He cast one final vexed gaze at Lady Naughton before leaving the room.

Before the door had even slipped shut behind him, Alecia stood and approached to loom over Kitty.

“Has Miss Perkins been at you too, then? She has a fanciful tale to tell, I'll admit. But you should know this, Lady Katherine. Sebastian is a man of singular affections. He loves for life, and I am that love.” Her whole countenance altered and she spoke with another voice, lower, full of anger, almost pained. “He is not a man to come to London and engage himself to a woman after three day's acquaintance. Whatever scheme you've concocted—­”

“What happened between the two of you?”

She reared back as if Kitty's interruption was the last thing she expected.

“If he would have loved you for life, Lady Naughton, why are you married to another man?”

Alecia turned her back on Kitty a moment. “It was all a terrible misunderstanding.”

“I see.” Misunderstandings were plentiful. Ollie and Hattie had yet to speak since the incident at Wrexford House, and she suspected both of them misunderstood the other's reactions that day. She'd never explained her own actions to Sebastian and could only imagine what he thought of her now. Yes, misunderstandings were easily wrought, but she suspected whatever had passed between Sebastian and Alecia had been more than a misunderstanding, and she wouldn't get the truth from Lady Naughton. She'd come here to poison Kitty's relationship with Sebastian, not to explain her own.

“Would you mind seeing yourself out, Lady Naughton?”

The weight of it all poured down on her, as if she was still sitting in Sebastian's garden and looking at Pippa's shocked, flushed face. And then into his eyes, brimming with disappointment.

“I know your engagement is false. I don't know why or how you convinced him to involve himself in such a scheme, but I know Sebastian would never wish to marry a woman like you.” As Kitty turned to the door, Alecia came up just behind her, hissing the accusation in her ear.