Authors: Diana Quincy
Blackness crept in and she gladly went to it.
Chapter Two
“Are you certain you’re well enough for a ride through the park?” A crease appeared between Laurie’s brows. “You have not been yourself since the ball.”
Avoiding his gaze, Kat forced a light tone. “Pish posh, it was just a touch of ague.” She directed her horse onto Rotten Row, maneuvering through the crowd of riders on the trail.
Laurie’s gelding inched up alongside her mare. He peered over at her. “But you fainted. That is not a sign of ague.”
“You make me swoon, my lord.” She tossed her head and flashed a flirtatious smile. “Most gentlemen would be delighted to have that effect on their lady.”
Laurie’s eyes twinkled and he laughed aloud, allowing the compliment to distract him, just as she intended. Desperate for an excuse to cut off the conversation, she shook the ribbons, commanding her mare into a trot. She fell into the rhythm of the horse’s movements, the passing riders a blur of color.
It had been three days since she’d seen him. Edward. Agonizing hours full of uncertainty and turmoil that had left her physically ill. She’d taken to bed with a pounding headache and no appetite. When she tried to force food down, it tasted like foolscap and her stomach rebelled, threatening to expel the meal.
Her reaction mortified her. How could Edward still have this kind of effect on her? She’d reacted as though he’d abandoned her just yesterday instead of six endless years ago. She hadn’t seen him since that glimpse at her betrothal ball. After her embarrassing collapse, Kat had insisted upon returning to the party. Shaken and out of sorts, she’d nonetheless been determined not to let Edward ruin her big night. Yet she couldn’t help scanning the crowd for his face, desperate to look into those dark emerald eyes once more. Even now, she didn’t dare ask anyone about him, fearing the questions her inquiry might raise in Laurie’s mind. But what had Edward been doing there? Perhaps he’d come for her at last.
“Why, if it isn’t Lady Incomparable.” The familiar voice pulled Kat from her thoughts. She tugged on the ribbons, slowing and turning to see Tobias Hobart, Bea’s brother, approaching. Toby’s brown eyes moved to Laurie who had come to a stop next to Kat. “Sin, good to see you as always. I’m glad to have spotted you.”
Laurie eyed Toby’s attire with raised eyebrows. “With those breeches, we wouldn’t have been able to miss you, Hobart.”
Toby laughed, sweeping his top hat off while affecting a bow from atop his mount. A navy linen riding coat adorned with pewter buttons was Toby’s only concession to the latest style of subdued colors for gentlemen. Beneath it, Kat’s cousin wore a yellow-and-red striped waistcoat with yellow breeches tucked into gleaming black Hessians. A slight man, Toby had brushed his thinning reddish brown hair upwards to create an illusion of height.
He inclined his head, flashing a grin. “Lady Katherine, I do declare my cousin becomes more lovely each time my eyes behold her.”
Delighted to see him, Kat smiled, taking in the pallor of his skin, so white that it looked almost transparent in the sun. Still, he seemed to be having a good day. She saw no evidence of the dark episodes his sister referred to. “Flatterer. I must take you to task for failing to attend my betrothal ball.”
Toby’s eyes widened. “But I did attend. A little tardy perhaps, but still in plenty of time to behold your rather dramatic swoon.” He winked at Kat. “Very well done, my dear. It was in all of the broadsheets.”
Her gut panged, but she forced a playful tone. “Never let it be said that I don’t have a flair for the dramatic. I’m sorry I did not see you there.”
“I attended with Lord Randolph.” He looked past her. “Here he is now.”
Kat’s scalp tingled. She heard the snort of his stallion before she saw the man who rode him. The animal was huge and powerful, with substantial muscles and a shiny coat so black it glistened almost blue in the sun. The rider’s black-clad thighs flexed as they hugged the animal. A trill of anticipation shooting down her spine, her perusal wandered further upward until she found herself gazing into Edward Stanhope’s dark emerald eyes.
Their gazes caught, held, and the air left her lungs. Cool, distant eyes looked back into hers, containing nothing of the humanity and warmth that had once radiated from them. His eyes were full of vibrant green color, but empty of any spark. A burst of cold air gushed through her and she shivered.
“Ah, here is Rand now.” Toby’s words sounded very far away even though he was right beside to her. “Edward Stanhope, Earl of Randolph, may I present my cousin, the lovely Lady Katherine? And her betrothed, Viscount Lawrence Sinclair.”
No trace of recognition penetrated Edward’s impartial expression. “My lady.” His eyes slid to Laurie. “Sinclair.”
Laurie tipped his hat. “Hobart here speaks very highly of you,” he said amiably. “Please call me Sin. All of my friends do.”
A hollowed gauntness had replaced Edward’s once-f face, his skin stretched taut across high cheekbones. “And I am Rand to my friends.” He spoke in the sparse, gravelly voice of someone whose journey to this moment had been an arduous one.
Rand
. A name free of all embellishment fit this new version of Edward.
Laurie smiled. “May I offer my congratulations, Rand, on your newly bestowed title. Toby says you were his commanding officer.”
“Indeed.” Edward’s frosty gaze was polite to the point of indifference. “Hobart served most honorably.”
Toby waved away the compliment. “Yes, one does as one must, but conflict is so unpleasant.” He wrinkled his nose. “Rand here is a genius in the art of war. An unparalleled strategist, in Wellie’s words.”
Interest sparked in Laurie’s eyes. “You were with Wellington, then?” he asked Edward.
“Indeed.”
Edward had not spared Kat a glance beyond that first acknowledgement, but she could not tear her eyes away from him. This stranger bore little resemblance to the Edward she knew. He had no softness to him at all, he was all cut bone and sharp angles, taut muscle over long lean lines. He sat ramrod straight in the saddle, stiff and commanding.
Laurie leaned forward. “Were you at Waterloo?”
She barely registered Edward’s answer—something about the Pyrenees—over the thudding in her ears.
“Don’t you think so, Kat?”
She turned to find Laurie looking expectantly at her. “Don’t you think so?” he repeated.
She twisted her mouth into the dazzling smile she often lobbed at Laurie when she didn’t want him to guess her true thoughts. “Of course I do, my lord.”
Laurie’s smile broadened. “It is settled then. You and Hobart must join us for supper tomorrow evening, Randolph.”
Fleeting surprise sparked in the impassive depths of Edward’s eyes. Heat suffused Kat’s face. Had she just encouraged Laurie to invite the earl to dinner?
Not knowing how she would bear it, she turned away, urging her mare back onto the path. “That would be lovely,” she said with a flip of her head. “If it is all settled, let us not waste this glorious day, Laurie. You promised me a ride.”
She heard the smile in Laurie’s answer. “Excuse me, gentlemen. When a beauty such as Lady Kat beckons, how can I not answer? I am but a mere man.”
…
Rand’s shoulder ached like the devil.
He slid down in the bath, hoping the heat of the water would ease the persistent pain, as two footmen appeared with more steaming water.
Burgess, his valet, took the buckets and dismissed the footmen. “This should help ease your discomfort, my lord.” He added one bucket full to the bath. The steam swirled around Rand’s face and he inhaled deeply, savoring the humid heat.
“For God’s sake, stop calling me that.”
“Pardon, my lord?” Burgess went to retrieve the second bucket.
“Stop calling me ‘my lord’. You know it grates on me.”
Burgess poured the contents of the second bucket into Rand’s bath. “Nonetheless, you are an earl now and it is my pleasure to serve you.” He placed the empty buckets by the door. “The regent bestowed the title upon you. He also gifted you with this enormous town home. It would be an insult not to use the title allotted to you by God and king, or regent, as it were.”
Rand made a disparaging sound and sank lower in the water. Burgess had faithfully followed him to hell and back. Through the battlefield, the chaos at Talavera, and then to India, back when Rand was merely the nephew of a marquess with no hope of acquiring a title. “No doubt it is your own elevation that thrills you.”
“I don’t deny it.” Burgess moved to the dressing room and returned with Rand’s evening wear for Sinclair’s dinner. “I am overjoyed to find myself in service to an earl who is a celebrated war hero. Although my wages have yet to reflect that.”
Rand barked a laugh. “Grasping sot. We both know you’ve been overly compensated for years. I could employ two of Mayfair’s finest valets for the same coin I give you.”
Burgess pressed his lips together. “If you say so, my lord.”
“I do.” Eyeing the clothes his valet laid out for him, Rand felt the beginnings of a headache twitch behind his left eye. Why the devil had he agreed to attend? “Damnation. I should send my regrets. The last thing I am in the mood for is to spend the evening with Sinclair and his ilk.”
“But that is your ilk now.” Burgess brushed the deep green tailcoat. “And Viscount Sinclair is top
ton
. They say his lady is the incomparable of the decade.”
Savage emotion clawed his insides at the mention of Kitty. “The decade? That is overdoing it, even for you, Burgess.”
“She has reigned for many years, long past when others would be considered on the shelf.”
He gritted his teeth against the turmoil of feeling that rose in his chest. Kitty the Incomparable. It wasn’t hard to believe. If anything, she’d grown even more winsome since he’d last seen her. She’d lost the coltish awkwardness of youth, developing into a true beauty with vivid sapphire eyes that were difficult to look away from. Her betrothal gown had left little to the imagination, showcasing her lithe, petite form, creamy shoulders, and the tender little globes he’d once had the pleasure of tasting. The thought of Sinclair doing the same, of having Kitty in his bed, made his head pound. His hand slammed down into the water, sloshing the liquid out of the tub.
“What was that for?”
Rand looked at his valet. “Pardon?”
“Is there a reason you are making a mess of the floor?”
“Damn your impudence, man.” He eyed the dark green tailcoat. “Is that what I’m wearing?”
Burgess stopped folding cravats and cocked an eyebrow at Rand, a glimmer of hope shone in his eyes. Rand didn’t give a whit about clothes. Never had. “You are interested in your clothing this evening?”
“Hardly.”
Burgess resumed his task. “I would be overjoyed if you were finally to take an interest in your attire. After all, an earl should dress with certain—” A wet washing cloth sailed through the air, landing with a slapping thud near Burgess’ feet, splashing water on his immaculately shined shoes.
“Shut up with all of this earl talk. Get out so I can take my bath in peace.”
Burgess pressed his lips together, affecting an offended expression as he quit the chamber, closing the door behind him.
Rand rubbed his shoulder and thought of the lady who would never belong to him again. He’d fully intended to come back for Kitty once he’d made something of himself, and he had been well on his way until Talavera destroyed his well-laid plans. Ironically, the battle that had made his reputation had also obliterated his chance at happiness. Now, he was barely fit to be in society, much less to be Kitty’s husband.
His desire to protect her was the reason he’d absented himself from England all of these years. If they’d been on the same continent, nothing could have stopped him from claiming her. He’d have stayed in India forever had the regent not essentially commanded his return to England by bestowing this wretched title upon him. Now the responsibilities of the earldom demanded his continued presence, not only in the House of Lords, but there were vast properties and tenants to look after.
There was no escape.
…
Kat arrived at Laurie’s Curzon street townhome a little later than the appointed time. She’d been abed all day with a pounding migraine that was no doubt brought on by the thought of seeing Edward again. She despised herself for being so weak.
Greeting her at the door, Laurie took her wrap and handed it off to the hovering footman. “Late as usual, I see. Just in time to make a grand entrance.”
She summoned a lustrous smile. “You know me so well.”
“Sometimes I wonder about that,” he said in that casual way of his. She darted him a look, but let the comment pass since she was too busy fixating on the prospect of being in close quarters with Edward. “You look marvelous as usual. That color suits you.”
“Do you approve?” She gazed down at her pale gold silk gown with delicate ruffles across her bosom and tassels of the same shade adorning the hem. “It was just delivered this afternoon.”
“I suspect all will clamor to their modistes on the morrow to imitate you.”
They entered the parlor where guests had gathered before supper. It was a small group, a dozen or so from their usual set, young Corinthians and the beauties, ladies, and heiresses they’d recently taken to wife. He guided her toward Bea, who stood with Toby and Lexie.
She felt a surge of relief to see no sign of Edward. “Has Lord Randolph sent his regrets?”
“No, in fact he asked to bring a friend.”
“A friend?”
“Elena, the Maid of Malagon,” Toby answered when they reached him. “She’s in London to receive a commendation from the prince regent for her valor during the war.”
“A recognition for valor?” Jealousy twisted in her chest at the thought of Edward escorting a lady. “For a female?”
“Not just any female,” Toby said. “Elena is most remarkable. She fought off the French and single-handedly saved her village.”
“Single-handedly?” Laurie asked. “How so?”
“The Spanish suffered heavy casualties and abandoned their posts. Elena loaded a cannon and lit the fuse herself.”
“No!” Disbelief etched Bea’s face.
“She shredded a wave of attackers just as they descended upon her.”