Elizabeth Mansfield (28 page)

“He is ... there is a part of him ... a selfish part, a dishonest part...”

“Is that so? I’ve not seen that side of him. What makes you think so?”

“Well, you know how he made us leave the Grange that had been our home for so long...”

“But he didn’t do it on purpose. Your aunt Letty explained to me that he didn’t know you existed.”

“That’s true, I suppose. But then he lied to me... pretended to be someone else... masqueraded with a false identity for... for weeks.”

“That was certainly a dastardly thing to do. I wonder why he did it.”

“Well, you see, it was after he’d saved my life, and when he realized who I was, he... he...” She made an impatient, helpless gesture with her hand. “Oh, it’s much too convoluted to explain.”

“Saved your life, did he?”

“Yes, but then, when he tried to force a legacy upon me...”

“Tried to force a legacy on you? Is
that
his crime?”

She heard, with a wave of annoyance, the lack of sympathy in his voice. “Dash it all, Henry, I didn’t
want
his charity. And he did force it on my brothers, in spite of... of...”

“Let me get this clear in my mind, Caro. You despise the man because he saved your life, tried to give you a legacy, took your brothers under his wing, gave them a home, and offered a home to you as well. Yes, I quite see what you mean. He certainly sounds like a despicable fellow to me.”

Tears stung her eyelids. “You d-don’t
understand!
It’s just too c-complicated to explain.”

“Perhaps it is,” he said gently, taking her hand and starting back toward the house, “but I think one thing is clear. He will be a better husband for you than I could ever be.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

The little men with hammers were back in Kit’s head. After he’d left the party, he’d thrown himself into bed and fallen into a stertorous sleep. But he’d wakened early, his mouth sour, his head thick and aching, and his spirits at their lowest depths. It was not yet dawn, but he’d gotten up and staggered down the hall to find Mickley, hoping that the ingenious batman could concoct a brew that might ease his suffering.

On the way, he heard sobbing coming from Gil’s room, sobbing that seemed to express in pure sound what Kit himself felt in his soul. He knocked at the door and let himself in. Gil lifted his head from his pillow, took one look at the intruder, and fell into his arms. “I don’t want Caro to marry Mr. Lutton,” he wept. “I didn’t even want her to do it last time, when I hardly knew him.”

“Last time?”

“Yes, before we moved to London. Arthur said she’d do it, because we didn’t have anyplace to go, but when it came to the point, she didn’t. Why is she doing it now?”

“I don’t know, Gil. Perhaps she loves him.”

“She
can’t
love him! He’s so ... so put-offish. And he’s deucedly strict about silly things like shirts being properly tucked in. And he never laughs. When we go to live with him, Arthur says we won’t even be able to say damn.”

“But you aren’t going to live with him, my boy. You’re going to stay right here.”

Gil lifted his head and gaped. “Really? Really, truly? How do you know?”

“Caro said so. Really, truly.”

The boy sighed a long, shuddering, relieved sigh as a heavy weight rolled off his heart. “Oh,
thank
you!” he whispered, raising his eyes to heaven. Then he threw his arms around Kit’s chest and hugged him tight.

Kit lifted the boy’s chin. “It’s all right, then? For her to wed him, I mean.”

The boy’s face clouded. “I don’t know, Kit. If she goes through with it this time, do you suppose I’ll ever get used to it?”

Kit didn’t answer. He tucked the boy in and ordered him to get some sleep. But as he made his unsteady way toward Mickley’s room, the boy’s words echoed in his aching head.
Do I suppose I’ll ever get used to it?
he asked himself. Gil might get used to it someday, he thought glumly, but he never would.

Mickley made him a tisane of barley water, lemon juice, and cloves, but it did no good. Kit tottered to his study, sank down behind his desk, dropped his head in his hands, and groaned. The clock struck eight. The whole long day stretched before him without prospect of any ease of the pain in either his head or his spirit. He actually considered getting drunk again. He wondered if this disappointment in love would do to him what it did to so many men—drive him to drink. Was he doomed to end his days a pathetic old souse?

There was a sharp rap at the door. The sound set off a gong that vibrated in his brain. “Go away,” he snarled in a voice that brooked no argument.

Caro put her head in the door. She’d covered her hair with her housekeeper’s cap again, but she somehow managed, he thought in annoyance, to look as lovely as she had when he’d waltzed with her. “It’s only me, my lord,” she said with a repellent cheerfulness. “Can you spare me a moment?”

“If you’ve come to berate me for my performance last night,” he growled, “you may save your breath. I’m being punished for it quite adequately.”

“No, it’s not about that. It’s about my notice.”

“Your
notice?
”
He felt his innards clench. “You wish to cut it short? Don’t tell me that you and your so decorous betrothed have decided that you cannot wait even one little month to take your vows.”

“I didn’t come to tell you that at all. Quite the opposite.”

Something in that answer caught his attention. The little men inside him eased their hammering, as if they, too, were curious. “Come in and sit down, ma’am,” he said, lifting his aching head.

She came in, shut the door, and took the chair at his desk. “I would like to
withdraw
my notice, my lord. It seems I shall not be getting married after all.”

Kit gulped. This was news indeed! A bubble of excitement stirred in his blood. The little men stopped their hammering altogether. But, he warned himself, it was entirely possible that he didn’t hear aright. Or that he’d misunderstood her meaning. It was even possible that he was only dreaming. “
Not
getting married?” he asked carefully.

“No, my lord. Mr. Lutton changed his mind.”

He eyed her in utter disbelief. “Don’t flummery me, girl. Mr. Lutton would be insane to change his mind.”

“Not at all. Any man would change his mind if he believed his betrothed loved another.”

“Are you trying to tell me that Mr. Lutton believes you love
someone else?
”

“Yes, he does. He believes I’m in love with... with you.”

It was remarkable how a few words could relieve a blinding headache. And set a man to trembling. Kit had to clench his fists to steady himself. “Is that what he believes? The man must be an idiot.” He peered at her intently. “Did you
tell
him that he’s an idiot?”

She dropped her eyes. “No, I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you see, he’s... right.”

A shudder went through him. An actual shudder. Had she said what he thought she’d said? He put a hand to his forehead. He was still too thickheaded to trust what he thought he’d heard. “Please, Caro,” he muttered, shutting his eyes, “try to speak plain. I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at. What is it you want of me?”

“I want to stay here... to have my position back.”

He opened one eye. “You want to be my
housekeeper
again?” he asked in disgust.

“Yes, if... if no better post is offered me,”

“Better post? What better post?”

“If you can’t think what that might be, then I can’t help you,” she said primly. “It wouldn’t be seemly.”

There was something about her—not only her words but her very tone of voice—that was puzzling. She was
flirting
with him, he realized with a shock. And today of all days, after all he’d been through, he had not the patience for it. “Dash it all, woman,” he said, rising and stumbling round the desk, “I’m in no condition to play games.” He grasped her arms and lifted her from the chair. “Did you or did you not say you loved me?”

“Well, I ...” Her mouth seemed to be stifling a laugh, but her eyes were a little frightened. “...I said that Henry said it.”

“You said he was
right!
”

“Yes, I did. He also said that
you
loved
me.
Was he right about that, too?”

He expelled a long breath and pulled her close. “Damnation, Caro, are you blind? How can you not have seen it? I’ve loved you since the moment I pulled you from under those horses!”

“Oh,
Kit!
”
She gazed up at him, misty-eyed but not quite convinced.

He looked down at her glowing face, also afraid to believe this was real. How was it possible for the world to change so radically in only a few minutes? Could he be dreaming? But no, he told himself, he couldn’t be. If this were a dream, she wouldn’t be wearing that dreadful cap. He lifted his hand and pulled it off before tightening his hold on her. His happiness was now almost complete. All it needed was to feel his mouth on hers.

But when he bent his head to kiss her, she put her fingers on his lips to hold him off. “That’s not true, you know,” she murmured, her fingers caressing his mouth. “You haven’t loved me as long as that.”

“I think I should know that better than you.” It was an offhand reply, made absently, for he was intent on grasping those moving fingers and kissing them.

She slipped them from his grasp. “But when you were Mr. Terence,” she said, lowering her eyes, “you made it very clear that you didn’t want to be a suitor for my hand.”

“Good God! Has
that
been troubling you all this time?”

“Yes, it has,” she admitted in a tiny voice. “More than anything.”

“But how
could
I have been a suitor? I was living a cursed masquerade!” He gave a rueful laugh. “If you’d known my real identity that night, our whole history would have been different. I’d have been on my
knees!
”

That was all she needed to hear. The wound that had festered for so long was instantly healed. She slipped her arms round his neck and joyfully surrendered to his hungry embrace.

He kissed her for a long, long time. Then, without taking his mouth from hers, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to his chair. There, with the morning sun haloing their heads, they sat with arms entwined, enjoying to the full the blissful satisfaction of love requited after long postponement.

She was nuzzling his neck, and his lips were pressed against the curls on her forehead, when the door flew open and Letty wandered in. Caro, embarrassed at being caught in this position of intimacy, tried to jump from his lap, but he held her fast. Letty, however, had that abstracted, inward look in her eyes; she didn’t really see them. “Kit, I’ve been thinking,” she said, absently taking a chair opposite them, “that you ought somehow to make up to Caro for your rudeness last night...”

“It doesn’t matter, Aunt Letty,” Caro said, giggling. “Not anymore.”

Letty blinked. “Caro? Are
you
here?” She peered into the brightness, glimpsed the still-embracing couple, and gasped. “Good heavens, my dear, what are you
doing!
You’re going to be
married!
”

“I
know.
Isn’t it wonderful?”

“But surely you’re not going to pretend it’s proper to be sitting that way—” Then she gasped again. “Caro! No!
Truly?
You and
Kit?
”

“Yes.” Kit laughed. “My housekeeper here insisted on a promotion to a better post, and the only way I could satisfy her demand was to promise to wed her and make her, once and for all, the mistress of this place.”

“Oh, Kit!” Letty’s face seemed to collapse, and she burst into tears. “I’m so h-happy! It’s what I always p-prayed would happen!” She clasped her hands to her bosom and beamed as tears flowed down her cheeks. It took a while before she could get hold of herself. Then, after blowing her nose in her handkerchief, she got to her feet. “Please go back to what you were doing,” she said excitedly. “I must go at once and tell everyone the news.”

“Very well, Letty. Go on and shout the news to everyone in the world,” Kit said, grinning at her. “Except the boys. You must let Caro tell Arthur. And I want to be the one to tell Gil.”

“Of course, my dears, of course,” Letty said, hobbling hastily to the door. “But you must let
me
tell Martha.” She opened the door and threw them a smile that was almost as mischievous as it was euphoric. “She always boasts about never swooning, but when she hears this, she will faint dead away!”