by Joanna Shupe
Moreover, now that he’d witnessed Alice’s humiliation—multiple times today, in fact—he would no doubt keep his distance. She was clumsy and pathetic, a social disaster. After this weekend, she’d be lucky to marry anyone, even an older fortune hunter who sweated through his collars before noon.
A lump formed in her throat. How foolish she’d been to think she could ever have more.
More was for women like Maddie and Nellie. Women who spoke their minds and were unafraid of consequences. Women without mothers like Alice’s, who never stopped criticizing and analyzing her daughter’s every move.
After a brisk knock, a maid came in and motioned to the dinner tray. “Were you finished, miss?”
“I’m not that hungry. You may take it downstairs, Ida. But please tell Mrs. Berman the gelée was divine. I loved the touch of Madeira in there.”
“I will, miss.”
Ida departed and Alice was alone with her thoughts again, her eyes staring at the ceiling. Were the rest of the guests enjoying dinner? Was Kit entertaining those seated around him, as he usually did?
Her mother had nearly skipped the meal, insisting she needed to keep watch over Alice instead. Desperate to prevent that from happening, Alice claimed fatigue and promised to use the time to sleep. Thankfully, Mama relented and dressed for dinner, which had provided Alice with a brief respite.
She reached for one of the books Maddie delivered earlier. This one was about bees, a subject Alice found fascinating. Not only did they produce delicious honey, they pollinated plants and flowers, fruits and vegetables. They were like a cook’s best friend.
Before long, dinner ended and her mother returned, frowning when she entered Alice’s room. “I had hoped to find you asleep. Instead, you are awake and reading—at night, no less. Your eyes will be ruined. Your dowry can only compensate for so much, Alice.”
Never mind that there was adequate lighting in the room, thanks to the lamps. “I slept a little,” she lied. “Did you have a nice time at dinner?”
“These friends of Miss Webster’s,” Mama sneered as she took the book out of Alice’s hands. “I swear, if I had known those gentlemen were attending, we never would have come. And Miss Young, as well. You must steer clear of her. A good thing the duke is here or the whole guest list would be thrown into question.”
There was no use arguing so Alice didn’t bother to try. Instead, she changed subjects. “Have you spoken to Daddy?”
“What on earth for?”
To let him know I’m injured.
Alice was close with her father and she missed him while she and her mother were away. “I’d like to telephone him tomorrow, if you don’t mind.”
“Alice, he is a busy man. He does not have time to come to the telephone to engage in frivolous small talk with you.”
Frivolous? Daddy always seemed happy whenever she rang him up. “I’ll keep it brief, Mama.”
“See that you do. I am off to bathe. I’ll sit with you before I go to bed.”
“That’s not necessary. I know your joints were hurting you earlier. You should rest.”
“Nonsense. I will wait to take my medicine so that I may keep you company.” Mama’s medicine was laudanum, which she used nightly to help her sleep.
Mama disappeared into the corridor and Alice closed her eyes, wishing she possessed the ability to reason with her mother. Not even Daddy tried any longer, however.
Mrs. Lusk, with all due respect, what will make this go faster is silence.
Kit’s sharply spoken directive had nearly caused Alice to swoon. No one stood up to Mama like that. Even more surprising, Mama didn’t usually acquiesce that easily, either. Yet she had listened to Kit. The whole exchange had been absolutely remarkable.
The door cracked slowly, hardly making a sound. Kit’s handsome face appeared as he peeked into the room. Alice gaped at him and pulled the coverlet up to her chin. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
“Are you alone?”
“For the moment, but my mother will return shortly. You need to go.”
Instead of obeying, he slipped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I had to check on you. How are you feeling?”
“Kit. You must leave. If we are caught . . .”
“Stop worrying. I heard your mother go into her room and I assume she is getting dressed for bed. Tell me how you are doing.”
Despite her panic, Alice couldn’t help but melt at his concern. Her toes curled under the bedclothes. “I’m fine. Bored, but fine.”
He peeked at the spine of the book on the side table. “Bees? Really, Alice?” He put his hands on his hips. “A good thing I arrived when I did so that I may save you from yourself.”
“That book is interesting! Did you know bees have five eyes?”
“And yet all of them would be bored stiff from reading that terrible book.” When she chuckled, he grinned down at her. “See? That’s better.”
“I don’t care what you say. I plan to keep reading it tonight.”
“Then I suppose I’ll need to return later and entertain you.”
She bit her lip. Was he serious? It seemed impossible that he wished to spend time with her after she’d made such a fool of herself. “I’m certain you have better things to do.”
“I don’t, actually. But if you’d rather I didn’t, I understand.” A shadow passed through his eyes, an uncertainty so unlike him that she frowned.
“It’s not that I don’t want you here. I do. It’s just . . . what if we are caught?”
“No one will find out.” He put a hand over his heart. “This is my area of expertise. I’ll wait until your mother goes to sleep and then I’ll come back. All right?”
“All right.” Excitement bubbled inside her, light and heavy at the same time. It was the happiest she’d felt all day.
“Excellent. I’ll return when everyone settles.” He started to leave and then paused. “Alice, I just wanted to apologize for anything I said last night that might have been . . . crass. I don’t remember much from when you were in my room, but I hope I didn’t scare you.”
She struggled to keep her face from betraying her as she recalled his words from last night.
My cock is hard all the time for you.
No, she hadn’t found that scary. Not a bit. More like thrilling. Unbelievable and flattering.
He was studying her carefully, so she answered honestly. “No, you were a perfect gentleman.”
“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed, his expression softening. “Well, let’s not spread that around, shall we? I do have a reputation to maintain.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
The side of his mouth hitched and they stared at each other for a long second. It was a companionable silence, not awkward in the least, and she was probably blushing, but who cared? He was gorgeous and charming and she could stare at him for eons and never tire of it.
Finally, he blinked and started for the door. “Until later, queen bee.”
He disappeared and she tried not to sigh like a lovesick maiden. Kit was certainly hard to resist—and it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember why she needed to resist him in the first place.
The night crawled along at a snail’s pace. Kit and Harrison sat smoking cigars and talking for a few hours until Harrison left for his midnight rendezvous with Maddie. Kit worried over the illicit meeting, but considering he had one of his own planned, he couldn’t throw stones.
A knock sounded on his door around one o’clock in the morning. The footman he’d engaged for information stood in the corridor. “Sir, her maid’s just gone to bed. Said the madam has gone to bed, as well.”
Thank Christ. Mrs. Lusk had finally retired. Kit had worried the woman was part vampire and would stay up all night drinking the blood of her enemies.
Pulling a sawbuck out from his vest pocket, he handed it to the footman. “Thank you, Henry. Much obliged.”
Turning, Kit colle
cted the basket of emergency “entertain Alice” items. Then he set off for the other side of the chateau.
The corridors were dim, with long shadows and dark corners. No one was about, the rooms quiet. Kit’s feet made no noise whatsoever on the carpets, the faint sound of the ocean covering his breathing. It really was the perfect house for sneaking about.
He didn’t bother to knock on Alice’s door. After carefully turning the latch, he let himself in. She was wearing a heavy dressing gown but covered with a thick blanket. Her hair was down, probably brushed out by a maid, and he nearly tripped at the sight of all those long chestnut locks falling over her shoulders. God, she was lovely, with her big eyes and creamy skin, along with the pureness that shone from within her. It was as if her sweetness was a tangible, visible feature, making her even more appealing.
Warmth spread through him and all he could think about was kissing her again.
Platonic, Christopher. Remember?
He approached the bed. “Are you tired? Or would you like to see what I have in the basket?”
“The basket, of course.” She sat up straighter. “What did you bring?”
He put the basket on the floor, then went to drag an armchair over to the bed. Once he sat, he lifted the lid on the basket and began removing his stash. “First, wine.” He lifted the bottle of Bordeaux and put it on the nightstand. “It’ll help you sleep.”
“Or pass out.”
“True, but we’ll limit ourselves to one glass, I swear. Next, I found this downstairs in the kitchen.” He handed her a plate containing different meats, cheeses and olives. He hadn’t found the provisions as much as paid someone to put them together. “And lastly”—he took out a deck of playing cards—“entertainment.”
She wrinkled her nose at the cards. “I don’t know how to play.”
“Fortunate for you, I do. I can teach you any game you’d like to learn. Now, isn’t that better than bees?”
“Only slightly,” she answered with a small smile, and popped an olive into her mouth. Her mouth moved as she chewed, her tongue darting out to lick her plump lips, and his stomach clenched. It reminded him of their lesson in the kitchen yesterday, when she’d nearly had him panting from licking a bit of sugar off her finger.
Why must she be so annoyingly good at all these tips he’d given her?
Clearing his throat, he opened the wine and poured two glasses. When he handed her a glass, she took a sip and blinked. “Oh, I like that. I hadn’t thought I would, but I do.”
“I’m glad. Wine is essential when one is laid up in bed with an injury.”
“And I suppose you know this from firsthand experience?”
“No, but I have been laid up in bed before. Does that count?”
Reaching for another olive, she asked, “Was that innuendo?”
“Of course. Though I must try harder if you couldn’t tell.”
Instead of eating the olive in her hand, she playfully chucked it at his head. “Not necessary. I am a fast learner.”
“I am perfectly aware,” he muttered under his breath as he picked the olive up off the floor.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” He took the deck of cards and began shuffling. Like any scoundrel, his card skills were finely honed. With one hand, he separated portions of the deck with his fingers, flipped a section, then reinserted it into the stack of cards.
Alice whistled. “Can you teach me to do that?”
“It just takes lots of practice. Not certain it’s the best skill to lure a proper husband, however.”
“Because proper husbands don’t play cards?”
“No, because proper husbands do not want their wives playing cards.”
Taking a piece of cheese off the plate, she said, “Maybe I don’t want a proper husband.”
There was a dangerous statement. “Of course you do. You cannot marry a rogue or a gambler.”
“That’s the problem. My aunt didn’t learn of my uncle’s gambling proclivities until they were married and he nearly put them in the poorhouse. My father had to step in and clear their debts. So, how may a woman tell whether a man is a rogue or a gambler before she marries him?”
Kit thought back to his own parents. His father had wooed their wealthy mother quickly, pressing her to marry him with false promises and bogus credentials. She hadn’t known the truth until it was too late, and then tried to “fix” him.
But Franklin Ward had been unfixable. He was a terrible gambler and cruel husband, concerned with having control of his wife’s money and mind, and to hell with anyone who got in his way. The entire family had paid the price for that bastard’s greed, emotionally and financially, but especially Kit’s mother, who grew ill and withered away for years. Sad and heartbroken, she was a shell of her former self, becoming a woman with her future stripped away and a husband who deserted her. But no matter how hard Kit pushed, she had refused to divorce Franklin.
“I don’t know,” he told Alice with a shrug. “I would advise not to rush into a marriage, that you should get to know him first. Do a little digging. Ask his friends, his staff. Habits are hard to break. If he has any that are hard to live with up front, they’ll only get worse as the marriage drags on.”
“Once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel?”
“Precisely.”
She picked at the embroidery on the comforter. “Nellie said a scoundrel is not an easy undertaking, that he must be broken first.”
Kit chuckled, leaned back in the chair and put his feet up on the edge of Alice’s mattress. “She is not wrong, though I’m not certain how she arrived at that conclusion.”
“Experience?”
“I do not doubt it.”
He reached for his glass of wine and was surprised to see how quickly the night was passing. He’d already been here twenty minutes. When had he last spent this much time fully clothed with a woman in a bedroom late at night? Not that he didn’t wish to see Alice naked—he definitely, absolutely did—but he liked just being with her, too. Talking about bees and scoundrels, drinking wine and laughing together. It felt . . . nice.
Alice made it easy to be with her. He could relax, not worry about whether he was impressive or smart enough. Whether he possessed enough ambition or wealth. She accepted him, yet challenged him when it was required.
And he really liked kissing her.
Another olive bounced off his shoulder. “Are we going to play or not?” she asked.
Smirking, he pointed at the floor. “I am not picking that one up. Enjoy explaining its presence to your mother.”
“Kit!” she hissed. “You must pick it up.”
“Maybe, if you are nice to me.”
“I am always nice to you. It’s you who—”
She closed her mouth abruptly, color dotting her cheeks, and he held perfectly still, waiting to see how she would finish that sentence. Was she implying he hadn’t been nice? When she remained silent, he said, “It’s me who . . . ? What were you going to say?”
“Forget it.” Busy fingers adjusted the coverlet, her gaze anywhere but on him. “So, cards?”
He pressed his lips together. There was a card game they’d played during the long nights at boarding school, before they’d discovered alcohol and women, and it forced the loser to confess a secret. Many a nickname had been crafted during those late-night sessions. “I have a simple game,” he said, shuffling anew. “It will take no time at all to learn.”
“Perfect,” she said, and reached for her wine. “I am ready.”
Giving them each half the deck, he explained. “We both flip over one card at a time. High card wins and that person may ask a question of the loser. The question must be answered truthfully, however.”
Alice’s brows shot up, her lips parting in surprise. “You are making this up.”
“I am not. It’s how I learned that my friend Forrest is scared of butterflies and moths.”
“Perhaps if I could talk to him about bees, he might chan
ge his mind about flying insects.”
He grinned. “If the opportunity ever arises, I just might have you do that. So, what do you say?”
“What if I don’t want to tell the truth?”
“Then you must take both cards. The person who gets rid of their cards first wins, though.”
“Fine, I’ll play.”
“Flip a card over. Let’s see who has the highest one.”
Kit’s card was a four of spades, while hers was a jack of diamonds. She inhaled sharply and rubbed her hands together, like some sort of mad genius in a laboratory. “That means I get to ask you a question.”
“Yes, it does. I’m ready. Ask away.”
The pause she took in composing her question should have given him a clue, yet he was still taken aback when she asked, “Why did you leave the kitchen so abruptly last night?”
His muscles locked, his entire body frozen with dread. He couldn’t tell her the truth, that seeing her suck on her finger had nearly caused him to lose his mind. Lust had overtaken his body and stolen his wits, with an ironclad grip he hadn’t experienced in years. It had been embarrassing, frankly. Women had done all manner of depraved acts in front of him, yet this one innocent woman licked sugar from her finger and he almost spent in his trousers.
No, he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Scowling at her, he snatched up both cards and put them in his deck. “Next hand.”
When the cards were flipped Kit had the higher value. While he stared at her and contemplated his question, she reached for her wine. Though she appeared calm, he could see the pulse pounding in the slim column of her throat.
The question fell out of his mouth. “Did I say anything inappropriate to you last night when I was drunk?”
After a healthy sip of wine, she swallowed. “Yes.”
He closed his eyes briefly. Goddamn it. Of course he had. “What did I say?”
She set her glass on the nightstand. “That is another question, I’m afraid. You’ll have to wait until you win again to ask it.”