“No. That could be even more damaging. What if they talked?” She blinked, and the worry clouded her beautiful hazel eyes. “We have to keep this quiet for now.”
“I could ask several of the maids over at Rand House to help you and Willa,” he offered. “At least a full-time cook?”
She twisted her hands, then dropped them when she realized he was watching. It was a tell that she was unsettled. “No. I want to keep it contained to just us.”
Christian studied her face. What he wouldn’t do to take this concern from her. “Keeping things quiet is one thing, but eventually the child will be born and people will know what happened,” he said gently. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
“I’m aware of that.” She reached for a small square pillow with a heart embroidered on it and hugged it to her chest. “I’m worried about Constance and Beth. I’m also a little worried about the secretary’s visit.” She shook her head slightly, upsetting two curls.
“What is that? A keepsake?” he asked softly as he pushed the wayward locks back into place.
She handed the pillow to him. “A little something my mother gave to me when I was a little girl. She said it holds all her love for me.” Her gaze settled on the pillow. “It’s silly, but I find great comfort in it when I’m troubled.”
“It’s not silly at all.” He traced the small red heart on the pillow. “Your mother sounds as if she was wonderful.” He returned it to her, and she put it on the desk.
She swallowed and blinked rapidly, trying to keep her emotions in check.
He couldn’t help but cup her cheek in his palm. The recalcitrant pounding in his chest urged him to take her in his arms and never let her go. But he forced himself to stay in place. “Kat,” he whispered her name like a solemn vow. “Don’t keep everything to yourself.”
“It’s hard to let go when you’ve been on your own for so long.” She stepped away, then started to pace again. After one pass, she stopped. “Have you heard from Lord Sykeston?”
He came to her side and took her hands, encouraging her to look at him. When she tilted her head, he was blinded by the resolve in their depths. “I just received a letter from him. He’s coming to town, but he didn’t mention anything about Constance. I think our posts crossed on the road. I’ve sent a reply to his London house, asking him to meet both me and Lord Grayson at the Marquess and Marchioness of Halverton’s soiree tomorrow evening. It’ll be safer there. Halverton has a private room for us. No one will suspect anything if the three of us disappear for a while.”
“Who is Lord Grayson?”
“He’s my closest friend and a friend to Sykeston. He knows what Meri’s done and wants to be there to help.”
She drew away, then sat on the small sofa before the fireplace, where the flame’s shadows kissed her cheeks.
Which was exactly what he wanted to do to her.
“Lord Sykeston has to agree,” Katherine said. “Constance needs a husband before her baby is born.”
He put the thought of kisses aside—for now. “I’ll do my best.”
Christian eased himself onto the sofa beside her. He took her hand and threaded their fingers together. Whether it was a sign that he considered her his or that he’d be her champion, it didn’t make any difference. It felt right to be touching here in the study. He was fast coming to the conclusion that he would always enjoy touching her, no matter where they were.
“The earl mustn’t mind caring for another man’s child, and I don’t think he will,” he mused quietly. He picked up his discarded whisky and swallowed it in one gulp.
“I want to make one thing clear.” Ramrod straight, she sat on the edge of her seat. “I don’t need a husband.”
* * *
Christian put his glass down with deliberate care. Katherine could see the wheels turning in his mind. He eased himself against the back of the sofa.
“I didn’t plan on offering you to anyone.” A half smile formed across his full mouth, and his eyes twinkled in jest. “But I appreciate your candor.” He stretched out his legs. The movement so effortlessly smooth, he looked completely at home.
Immediately, her tension evaporated. His familiarity and playfulness brought a succor she sorely needed. “I sound like a…” She let out a sigh.
“A woman who’s worried about her friend,” he added softly.
“I was going to say shrew.” She couldn’t help but laugh.
He didn’t join in but regarded her with a seriousness that made her squirm slightly. He saw too much with that brown-eyed gaze of his.
“Let me give you money for the care of Miss Howell, Miss Lysander, and her aunt. I don’t feel right otherwise. The least you can do is give me the benefit of thinking I’m helping. It has to be costing you a pretty penny to keep three additional people under your care.”
“Thank you, but no.” She clasped her hands. “I don’t need help.” She hadn’t needed help from anyone after she left York, and she wouldn’t start now.
Christian examined her as he always did when he didn’t like her answer. With a flick of an eyebrow, he thought to press her into accepting his offer. Defiantly, she refused to look away.
“Always the independent woman, aren’t you, Katherine? Does this trait come from your years in York, or did you inherit it from your mother?” He smiled gently. “Perhaps your father.”
She clenched her hands tighter. Without looking down, she could tell her knuckles were turning white. “How did you know I was from York?”
“I made the assumption from the rose on your handkerchief.”
For a moment, her lungs refused to work as she struggled for a response. If Christian made that assumption, then Marlen Skeats would make that leap of logic too. He knew embroidery patterns and where they came from.
“Well, we were a typical York family.” What a bouncer. Could a person go to hell for lying? “My father traveled for business quite a bit. He was lost at sea. My mother never remarried.”
Better to experience an afterlife fanning the flames for Lucifer than forego the horror and pity that undoubtedly would cross Christian’s face if she told him the truth.
“Do you or Willa perchance know how to make Yorkshire pudding? Could you teach my cook?” When he grinned like that, he looked like a young lad, one who no doubt had charmed all the cooks in the kitchen to give him extra treats.
“Both of us do, and we’d be pleased to share our recipe.” Waves of relief spread through her at his change of subject.
Christian took her hand and raised it to his mouth. He pressed his lips against the skin before turning it over and pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I should go.” He dropped her hand and stood. “Walk me to the door?”
She placed her hand on his outstretched arm. His forearm muscles twitched under her touch, reminding her that he was not only honorable, but a vibrant, perfect specimen of a man whom she desperately wanted.
Before she could finish the thought, they arrived at the door. Christian swept her into his arms and kissed her until she moaned in pleasure.
“I’ve wanted to do that since I left you last night,” he murmured against her lips. “All I’ve thought about today is you and me in this very room.” He nuzzled the side of her neck with his nose before pressing a reverent kiss on the tender skin below her ear.
“That’s all I’ve thought about too,” Katherine answered. She pulled back and absently played with the buttons on his jacket. “Do you trust Lord Sykeston?”
“With my life. He’s a good man.”
“I can’t help but wonder if he’ll marry her willingly. What if he says no?”
“We’ll think of something else. Don’t worry yet.” He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Keep the faith, Kat. Sykeston owes me a favor, so he’ll at least listen to Constance’s request.”
She shouldn’t ask, but curiosity got the better of her. “What does he owe you?”
“Everything,” he answered. “He owes me his life.�
��
Chapter Seventeen
The next evening, Christian stood overlooking Lord and Lady Halverton’s ballroom. For a small soiree, there seemed to be close to two hundred people below. He reached into the pocket of his evening coat and retrieved the piece of paper he’d untacked from the family portrait. Its location had been his father’s face.
For some odd reason, his usual loathing of his family and the enjoyment he experienced when he placed a new pin through his father or stepmother had diminished. It was as if those ever-present feelings had faded in importance.
Only to be replaced with Katherine. He wished she were here. Having her near would be a comfort in and of itself. He turned his attention to the paper where he’d penned a single word: Sykeston.
After his sister had married, Sykeston felt his patriotic duty required he join the war effort. Able to speak perfect French and German without any accent, the earl had traveled between British army camps with little interference. When he’d decided to return home after learning of his sister’s death, he’d been ambushed on his way out of camp. His leg had been shot and mangled in the process. Unable to walk, Sykeston’s death was guaranteed as the snipers were still shooting.
When they ceased fire to reload, Christian had galloped to him and swung Sykeston onto his horse behind him. A bellow, an ungodly sound that could only come from the hell of war, had exploded from his friend when he’d picked him up off the ground. It still rang clear in Christian’s memory.
Steps sounded behind him. One was a steady pace, and the other was an uneven gait accompanied by a walking stick. Without investigating, Christian could identify who was approaching.
“Randford,” called out Jonathan Eaton, the Earl of Sykeston.
Christian turned around.
The Marquess of Grayson held out his hand first. Christian clasped it tightly, and both men clapped the other on the shoulder.
“Thank you for coming with him,” Christian said to Grayson. He turned his gaze to Sykeston and held out his hand. “Sykeston.”
The earl transferred his ebony walking stick to the other hand, then reached for Christian’s. Though they didn’t clap each other on the back, Sykeston nodded with a look of respect. It spoke volumes. They were still friends, though they hadn’t communicated with each other after they had come home.
“It’s good to see you healthy,” Christian offered.
“If you call this healthy,” Sykeston quipped as he glanced at his leg.
Christian hesitated a moment. The earl was prickly about his permanently injured leg. “But you’re here.”
Sykeston nodded. “And lucky to be alive.”
Grayson sighed slightly. “Indeed.”
The earl looked askance in Christian’s direction. “Tell me what’s so urgent that we needed to meet tonight.” His lips curled downward. “At a soiree?”
“I thought it safer to meet here than at my home.” Without waiting for an answer, Christian locked the door. He led the way to a small salon not far from the balcony. Framing the fireplace, two small sofas faced each other. The earl and the marquess sat beside each other on one, while Christian poured three glasses of whisky. He sat on the opposite sofa.
Sykeston appeared at ease, which would hopefully work in Christian’s favor when he made his unusual request. Christian raised his glass in the air, and the other men joined him. When they downed their spirits, Grayson leaned against the sofa.
Sykeston wasn’t as nonchalant. “Though I was invited here tonight, I wasn’t planning on attending. I normally wouldn’t set foot in any place where there was music and dancing occurring, but with your summons, I couldn’t refuse. What’s this about, Randford? You’re not recruiting me and Grayson for some spy mission, are you?”
Grayson leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees with an intense look on his face. “I’m here for moral support.”
“For whom?” Sykeston shot him an askance glare. “Randford or me?”
Christian shook his head. “The reason I called you here today is personal. I saved your life once, and now I need your help.”
Sykeston nodded once for him to proceed.
“It’s dire.” How to explain he needed the earl to save Constance and her soon-to-be born child from ruin because of his brother’s selfishness? “What I have to say cannot leave this room.”
Sykeston nodded again, then frowned slightly at Grayson’s audible exhale. “Do you know what this is about?”
Grayson nodded.
The earl returned his curt gaze to Christian. “Don’t leave me in suspense.”
“My late departed half brother did something unforgiveable.” Christian swallowed, hoping to rid himself of the vile taste in his mouth. It always happened when he was embarking on cleaning up one of his half brother’s messes. “He married three women. One is carrying his child. All three wives are vulnerable. No one knows, and I’m hoping you will marry one.”
Sykeston’s face remained expressionless.
After a long bout of silence, Grayson was the first to speak. “Go on. Tell him all of it.”
The earl’s intelligence was as sharp and accurate as his renowned marksman skills. How fortunate for Christian that he didn’t carry any weapons on him tonight because the expression on the earl’s face was—to put it kindly—murderous.
“I need your help, Jonathan. Through the tragedies and horrors we’ve been through together, I’ve come to know and consider you a friend. I know you’re a good man, and I don’t want this woman to suffer because of my half brother’s deeds.” He lowered his voice. “She’s a wonderful woman.”
Sykeston’s face visibly paled. “Constance Lysander married your brother. Who’s the one you want me to marry?”
“How did you know about Miss Lysander?” Christian’s shock reverberated around the room. If Sykeston knew, could there possibly be others in the outlying areas of England that were aware of his brother’s polygamy?
“She’s from Portsmouth.” Sykeston pursed his lips. “I’ve known her since she was a young girl. The Lysander family is wealthy and well-known in the area. Constance is … special. She would have been a good match for any man.”
“She’s his second wife, and Miss Beth Howell is his third,” Christian said.
Sykeston’s face visibly paled. “Who did he marry first?”
“The former Katherine Greer from York,” Christian confided.
Grayson leaned against the sofa then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Beth Howell is also a fine woman. Christ. I don’t even know what to say, and I’ve heard the story before. If there’s anything I can do…” His words trailed to nothing.
Christian shrugged slightly. “My half brother received all three dowries, and I speculate he spent the money on racing. I have my solicitor looking for the remnants of it if any exists. Even if I don’t find it, I’ll make the marriage worth your while.”
Lost in his thoughts, Grayson stared at the floor.
The earl stood with the help of his cane, then with some stiffness, walked to stare out a window.
Out of the corner of his eye, Christian noticed the earl gently tapping the foot of his good leg on the thick carpet. The movement reminded Christian of one a predator would make before it attacked.
“I wasn’t aware of the situation,” Sykeston said without any emotion in his voice. “If I’d found your brother while he was still alive, I would have challenged him, then killed him … without regard to you.”
Christian’s blood ran cold. Rumor had it the earl had challenged his deceased sister’s husband over her death. There were no formal enquiries as Sykeston had friends in high places. If he had challenged Meri, his brother would have faced certain death on a dueling field. “What exactly is your relationship with Miss Lysander?”
Sykeston stood silent a moment longer before answering. “She is … was a family friend.”
No one said a word.
“Would you marry her?” Christian asked quietly. “She’s
about to give birth. She’s staying at Lady Meriwether’s home along with Miss Howell.”
“Why don’t you marry her?” Sykeston turned and stared at Christian.
The truth was, when Christian thought of a wife, he imagined Katherine.
“She didn’t ask me.” Christian lowered his voice. “She wants to marry you. She asked if I would approach you. If you can’t bring yourself to marry her, I understand, but I promised Constance I would speak with you.”
“After all these years,” Sykeston murmured. For minutes, he stared out the window.
Whatever history Sykeston and Constance shared, it had to have been something rare. The earl never expressed any interest in marriage, women, or society in general.
“What about my heir?” Sykeston asked as he turned toward Christian.
“You could marry Constance by special license after she gives birth. If the babe is a girl, you can claim her as your own and say she was born after the marriage. If it’s a boy, then we’ll deal with the consequences. I’ll pay for the child’s expenses.”
“But society will think that I cuckolded your brother.”
“Perhaps,” Christian answered. “They’ll know he left her shortly after the marriage.” He leaned forward and let the glass dangle from his fingers as he captured Sykeston’s gaze. “More than likely, they’ll think you came to comfort her, and you and she developed a tendre for each other.”
The earl offered a lifted brow. “Me?” He waved his hand down his injured leg. “If they believe that, then they’re more ignorant than I give them credit for.”
“Constance said you were old friends.” Christian stood and locked his gaze with the earl’s. “Why wouldn’t people believe you both desired this marriage?”
Sykeston turned back to the window. The simple fact the earl hadn’t dismissed his suggestion outright gave him hope.
“I’m asking a tremendous favor, so anything I can do to help you personally is worth it to me.” Christian refilled his glass and took another sip.
Sykeston still stood by the window, completely ignoring what he’d said.
A Duke in Time--The Widow Rules Page 21