Morgan pulled out the carriage steps.
“Company has found us,” Christian drawled. “I’m afraid this isn’t the best time for receiving.”
“I’m not giving, so that’s not a problem. At least not for me,” Lady Meriwether replied.
“I meant that I’m not entertaining guests,” he shot back.
“I meant I’m not giving up.” She smiled, and for a moment, he stared. He’d been correct in his earliest assessment of her. She was pretty, and her tenacity was an admirable trait.
But the woman was beyond exasperating.
Their exchange would have been comical if Christian had been in the mood to laugh. Without warning, the audacious woman stepped into the carriage. Christian had no recourse but to move his legs to make her entry easier.
She gracefully stepped around him, then settled herself on the seat opposite him. Her companion followed. Christian nodded at the woman, who sat next to Katherine.
“My lady, it is a long walk to the theatre.” Christian pulled back the curtain leisurely. “At least half a block. I’m afraid I’ve decided not to attend tonight’s performance. You’ll have to find other transportation. I’m on my way home.”
“Excellent, Your Grace. I’m not attending the theatre either. Did you know I live within walking distance of Rand House?” Without waiting for his response, she continued, “You can take me with you since we live so close to each other. We can have a nice little chat.” She situated herself on the seat facing him directly, then sat ramrod straight. She adjusted her elegant purple velvet pelisse around her. As a direct result of her movement, the fabric shimmered in the light from the streetlamps. Pleased with herself, she nodded, then folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap. “If you’d be so kind? That’s what family does for one another.”
“It’d be my pleasure,” he grumbled. She was practically moving in if her actions were any indication.
“Where are my manners?” she cooed.
Exactly. Where were her manners? Probably back at her house where she undoubtedly misplaced them.
“This is Miss Willa Ferguson.”
“Allow me to do the same. My valet, Jacob Morgan.”
The confounding woman smiled graciously at the valet, who stood outside the carriage. Not a hint of horror crossed her face when she gazed at Morgan and his eye patch. “Hello, Mr. Morgan. I’m Lady Meriwether.”
“Good evening, my lady.” Morgan executed a perfect bow.
Lady Meriwether’s companion nodded also. “Call me Willa, Morgan. Would you tell me what happened to your eye?”
“I lost it in my last battle,” he answered.
Every muscle in Christian’s body stiffened. He’d seen the way men and women would gawk at Morgan’s injury, then quickly turn their heads and whisper in hushed voices. It caused his loyal friend all sorts of anguish and embarrassment.
“Does it cause you much pain?” Miss Ferguson asked. “Itch? How long has it been?”
“Yes to both. About a month.” Always a good soldier, Morgan stood tall and answered her questions politely.
“Miss Ferguson, is this really necessary? Are you trained in medicine?” Christian demanded.
Miss Ferguson completely ignored him. “Come to Lady Meri’s house.”
“Lady Meri?” Morgan asked.
Willa nodded. “That’s what we call her. I’ve some salve and a special tea blend that will put the bloom back on your cheeks. My da lost his eye in a farming accident. Said if it hadn’t been for me, he didn’t know if he would have survived it.” Her gruff voice melted into a pleasing Scottish lilt. “Laddie, it’ll help you heal, I promise.”
“I don’t know if I can. I’m always available for the duke.” Morgan tipped his head in preparation to leave.
“Mr. Morgan,” Lady Meri said softly. “Willa’s knowledge of herbs and medicines is legendary. She helped my mother with her pain when she passed with a lung ailment. You’re welcome any time at my home.”
Morgan suddenly smiled as if the sun rose and set on Lady Meri. “Thank you for your generosity. Both of you. When I have a free moment, I’ll stop by.”
“You should make time,” Christian said. “You complained about it earlier.”
“Perhaps tomorrow you could come if your employer would allow it?” Katherine turned her bewitching smile Christian’s way, nailing him in place. “Of course, only if the duke can manage to dress himself?” the impudent woman added a little too sweetly.
“Jacob, why don’t you visit first thing in the morning?” Christian held Lady Meriwether’s gaze. “Madame, I accomplish the majority of things myself. I brush my own teeth and hair. I can saddle my horse”—he tapped his chin as if contemplating a list—“I even can feed myself.” He waited for a dramatic pause. “Oh yes, I’m quite adept at running my estates. In my recent past, I’ve successfully led my regiment into battles without a casualty. Currently, I uphold my duties in the House of Lords.” Satisfied that he’d shown her he could rise to the occasion and be accommodating to his valet, he delivered a smile worthy of seducing a siren. “Based upon my experience, I think I can manage my own dress when it’s required.”
Her breath caught suddenly, and she shifted in her seat.
Christian had hit his mark. When he set his mind to it, he could be as charming as Lucifer.
“My, you are accomplished, sir.” Her brow furrowed, and she stared straight through him. “Have you even been to the House of Lords since you’ve returned to London?” She turned in profile to her companion. “Are they even in session?”
Damnation. He’d made a tactical error in his litany. He should have left that part out.
Willa smirked. “Nae, lass.”
“I’m visiting next week,” Christian offered.
A slow smile spread across Katherine’s face. It reminded him of treacle, a little sweetness to hide the bitter bite of the medicine.
“No time better than now to get your medicine.” Willa stepped down from the carriage with Morgan’s assistance. “Kat, I’ll take the young man home with me, then we can meet you at the duke’s house. I can instruct his housekeeper how to apply the medicine and how to brew the tea.”
“Splendid idea,” Lady Meri answered with a satisfied nod at Miss Ferguson’s suggestion.
Both he and Morgan had been completely outmaneuvered by these two women. Christian settled back against the forward-facing squab and stared at the ceiling.
It would be a long carriage ride home.
“Captain?” Morgan asked.
Christian sighed. “Go. I’ll see you back at Rand House.”
Morgan closed the door, then knocked on the paneling to signal to the driver that Christian was ready to depart. Darkness shrouded the interior of the coach as the driver expertly guided the carriage out of the waiting line. Without direct light, it was difficult to see Katherine across from him.
An awkward silence ensued while a frisson of electrical current hummed between them. Or at least, that’s how it felt to him. Years had passed since Christian had been alone with a woman in such a confined space. At war, he always stayed at camp with his men. Even when they invited him to join in their revelries at the pubs and businesses friendly to the English, Christian politely declined. It wasn’t in his nature.
He inhaled deeply. The fragrant scent of violet drew him in her direction, and he rested his elbows on his knees to lean forward. In the twilight, the rest of his senses were heightened.
“Is Miss Ferguson talented with her teas and herbs? Morgan is a good a man. I’d hate to see him hurt or given false hope.” Christian let the words trail to silence.
“Very talented. Morgan is in good care,” Katherine answered. “Willa was renowned in our old neighborhood.”
“Where was that?” he asked.
“Up north.” Without offering anything more, she pulled aside the curtain to glance outside.
“Why does she call you Kat? It’s a little unorthodox, isn’t it?”
“It was my mother’s pet name for me, and Willa isn’t simply a companion.”
The rustle of velvet warned she had moved, then her knee brushed against his. At the sensation, he stilled instantly, his body tensed with a hunger for more. He fought the urge. He was a gentleman, firstly. A respected former member of the British military, secondly. And finally, she was his half brother’s wife.
Unaware of the turmoil he battled, she continued, “She’s my family. Willa was my mother’s companion. Now she’s mine.”
Her mellifluous voice wrapped around him as the word mine burrowed into the recesses of his mind. For a wild moment, he wanted nothing more than to make her his.
Ridiculous thought.
He broke the silence between them. “You mentioned you lost your mother. When?”
“About ten years ago. I was fifteen.” Her face relaxed, revealing her affection as she spoke. “She was always there for me. She told me never to take anyone for granted, work hard, and always try my best. Good advice from an amazing person and mother.”
It was exactly the way he felt about his own mother. “I lost mine when I was six.”
“Was she ill?”
He shook his head. “She died from injuries suffered in a carriage accident.”
“I miss mine every day.” Katherine’s voice held a hint of loneliness in it. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. I miss mine too.” He shifted in his seat. “She was quite the gardener. I helped her tend her roses. We’d spend hours upon hours in the hothouse. I still continue to grow and graft roses. It was her hobby and … now it’s mine.”
The woman across from him was either a menace or a magician. He’d told her things that he’d never spoken aloud to anyone before. Surprisingly, it actually felt quite nice.
“May I call you Katherine?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “Or you can call me Kat.”
“Call me Christian.” How long it had been since he’d heard his name on the lips of a woman? He rubbed a hand down his face. “I take it you had an uncontrollable need to see me, Katherine?”
She nodded. “After you left Mr. Hanes’s office, I found myself with the other women Meriwether had married. Their names are Miss Constance Lysander and Miss Beth Howell. I discovered they’re in dire straits. Neither have anywhere to stay.” Her voice trembled slightly.
He wasn’t certain if it was from outrage or empathy.
Perhaps both.
“One is with child and the other, the sister of a viscount, is scared of discovery. They realize that if society hears of this, then all of us will suffer. You understand that.”
He nodded. Lord, did he understand that. The stench of his brother’s madcap scandals never stopped.
She continued, “They’re staying with me.”
He sat motionless, waiting for more. Her smooth, honeyed voice serenaded him, making the moment feel almost intimate, like friends confiding in one another, sharing their secrets.
“Why did you take them with you?” It was the only question he could think of so she’d speak again.
“But for the grace of fate, I could be one of them. Meriwether could have married me second or last.”
“That’s noble of you.” He struggled for something else to say. Most women, if forced into that situation, would be aghast to offer such help. But the enigma across from him wasn’t most women.
“Christian…”
The minty scent of her breath kissed his cheek. He’d always had a weakness for mint leaves, but the hesitation in her voice caused his gut to cinch.
“Constance will deliver within weeks. We must do something.”
He had promised himself not to become entangled with any of these widows when he’d first walked into Hanes’s office. However, the plights of Kat and the other two women were real and couldn’t be denied.
The carriage arrived in front of his home, where lanterns lit the drive. The sight never failed to move him. Sometimes with happy thoughts, but mostly it reminded him of the garish parties that his father and stepmother would host for the demimonde and the theatre actors they had loved to entertain. Thankfully, there would no longer be wild, outlandish screams of merriment or howls of gaiety to rent the air.
“Shall we finish our conversation inside?” he said formally. “We’ll wait for your companion and my valet to return, then my carriage will take you home. There are some things I’d like to discuss with you.” He leaned against the squab, creating distance between them, and she followed his lead. “Believe it or not, I want the same thing as you.”
“Meaning?” she asked warily.
“A way out of this mess.”
* * *
Christian held out his hand to assist Katherine from the carriage. The instant she touched him, she could have sworn she’d been scorched by fire through their gloves. The overwhelming warmth in his large hand set off an incredible sensation of heat through her limbs. When her feet touched the ground, she released him. She had to regain her equilibrium before she tackled the subject at hand again.
That was what she should be thinking about.
Not his hands or his warmth.
He held her elbow as he helped her up the steps of his London home, a grand mansion in the neoclassical style. The trigamist had never brought her here, probably because he had other wives to attend to.
She should be ashamed to refer to him spitefully as such. But really, she had to keep her distance from the memories of her dead husband. He’d proven he was no saint.
Perhaps his older brother was the same.
Katherine stepped into the entry, immediately blinking at the brightness. The overhead chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling, its light reflected by hundreds of mirrors on the wall, each encased in a latticework overlay. The decadent pattern matched the blond and white tile of the marble flooring beneath her.
A stoic butler met them at the door. “Your Grace, welcome home.”
Christian nodded as he handed his greatcoat to the man, then helped Katherine remove her pelisse. “Lady Meriwether, this is Wheatley. He’s served our family for over thirty years.”
“How lovely to meet you, madame.” The butler stood immobile, much like the Greek statute of Dinlas directly behind him.
“A pleasure,” she answered. If she wasn’t mistaken, the faintest hint of a grin broke against the older man’s mouth.
“When Morgan returns with Lady Meriwether’s companion, Miss Ferguson, please send them to my study.”
The butler nodded curtly. “Of course, Your Grace.” As they turned to leave, the butler stopped her. “My lady, may I offer my condolences on your loss. The young master was always a favorite with the staff here and at Roseport.”
The duke stiffened beside her.
“Thank you, Wheatley. I appreciate your kindness.”
Before she could say more, Christian latched his arm around hers and escorted her down the hall. She took two steps for each one of his. It was as if he were running away, but from what?
“Pardon me.” He slowed his pace once he realized she was having trouble keeping up. “I always walk fast. It’s a habit I acquired in the military.”
“What else did you acquire in the military?” she asked as they walked down the hallway.
He slowed his step even more. His dimples appeared briefly when a grin flashed across his mouth. “Habit wise, I don’t mind a tepid cup of tea to start the day. I eat fast. Plus, I learned to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the cot.”
“Was it hard … all those years?”
“The lack of material comforts was insignificant. The war itself was horrific.” Before she could inquire more, he opened the door. “Here we are.”
As soon as they were in the study, he waved his hand at a set of club chairs in front of the massive burl wood desk centered in the large room. Though the room was well-kept, samples of paperhangings for the walls and vivid brocades and silks were spread haphazardly across a matching library table, g
iving it a hint of frenzy.
Instead of taking a chair, Katherine headed to the table to better inspect the samples. “Are you redecorating?”
At a side table, he had his back turned to her, pouring a glass of brandy. He grunted in answer.
Her fingers caressed the fine silk. Such beautiful fabric would make an excellent cover for her feathered bedlinens. “Is the silk from Spitalfields?”
“I have no idea. I’ve given the assignment to Morgan to handle. He knows design well enough, likes fashion, and said he looked forward to the task.” Christian took a swallow, then poured another glass.
“If I were the one decorating, I might add some primary colors.” She swept her hand across a royal blue wool with exquisite crewel work embroidery. “You don’t want it to be dull. You’ll be working in here. A little color does wonders for creativity.”
“I told him nothing flamboyant, and I don’t want that blue you’re fondling either. If he chooses everything the color of mud, it would suit me.” He shook his head. “Forgive me. I sound like a grumpy old man. Perhaps you should offer your advice to Morgan.”
“If that’s a challenge, I accept.” She glanced around the rich black, green, and white furnishings. In her opinion, it was classic and tastefully done. “It’s a beautiful room. Why are you even redecorating?”
“Because this was my stepmother’s handiwork.”
The brittleness in his tone had returned, much like when they’d first met. Obviously, she’d hit a nerve. She dug a little deeper under the samples and found a lovely brown and cream striped satin that would perfectly match the light color of his desk. The brown shade reminded her of the leather of a new saddle. She’d remember this color and incorporate it into her new collection of linens. She laid it on top so Morgan would discover it.
Somehow, Christian had made his way to her side without her even knowing he was there. An apparition made more noise. “Do they teach you that in the army?” she asked.
A Duke in Time--The Widow Rules Page 5