“You’ll help him when you get married.”
“Of course.” She’d prepared her entire life to take on the role of the wife of a prominent man.
“You love him, don’t you, Kitty?”
“Very much so. He makes me feel safe.”
“So, he’s a hero of sorts.”
“He’s my hero,” she readily admitted. He had been since the first moment that they’d met.
She’d been sixteen. Her family had been in London visiting the Earl of Ravenleigh and his family. Longtime friends, her father and the earl had several mutual business ventures. Too young to attend balls, she’d been standing in the garden, looking in on the grandeur, when Lord Farthingham had passed by her, suddenly stopped, looked back at her, and smiled his devil-may-care smile.
She’d often suspected that he’d been on his way to meet with someone, but whoever it was had been forgotten. He’d danced with her then, there in the garden with her in her plain dress and he in his evening attire, but she’d never felt more beautiful. She’d only recently begun to show an interest in men, and he’d given her a sense of security that had made the strange yearnings fluttering around inside her seem not quite so frightening. With him beside her, she could tamp them down.
From that one fleeting encounter, a friendship had developed and love blossomed. He’d proposed to her this last April, she’d accepted, and then as tradition dictated, he’d approached her father to ask for his blessing and to discuss the settlement. She knew the settlement was a necessary and wise part of the betrothal process, but she thought it might be nice if people simply got married and trusted each other to do the right thing.
But the world wasn’t perfect, and men were known to be scoundrels. Her existence was living proof.
“I’m going to miss you, Kitty.” Emily’s sweet face was caught up in a frown. “You won’t be sailing with us anymore.”
“Sometimes I will. Farthingham likes yachting as well.”
“Remember when we were on the ocean, and late at night, we’d sneak up to the deck and watch the stars?” Emily asked.
The last time they’d done it had been not more than ten days earlier. “Of course, I remember.”
“Out on the ocean, the sky always seems so big, and I always feel so small. Who’ll lie on the deck of the ship and watch the stars with me after you get married?”
Kitty crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped her hand around Emily’s, and squeezed. “I will.”
“But you won’t be with me.”
“I won’t be beside you like I am now,” Kitty said softly, “but I’ll always be with you, Em. Every night, I’ll go into the garden and gaze at the stars and think of you.”
“But you can’t see the stars in London. There’s too much fog.”
“I’ll see them, Em, because I’ll be looking with my heart, not my eyes. And I’ll always see you, too.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Leaning over, she pressed a kiss to her sister’s hair.
She did wish Farthingham would arrive. Without him to distract her, her thoughts kept returning to the man by the sea, how hard his body was, how hot. How dangerous it had felt to have his strong arms banded around her. She knew his scent, his taste, the softness of his lips, the roughness of his jaw.
Taking a deep breath, she wondered where he was at this moment, where he spent his nights. Did he sleep on board a yacht? Did he sleep with a tavern girl?
She almost laughed aloud. For all she knew, he was married, had ten children, and swam at dawn seeking peace from a hectic household.
Only she didn’t think he was married, didn’t think he had anyone. A loneliness she couldn’t explain had emanated from him—something that went deeper than solitary swims.
It was the way he stood on the shore—a defiance that had been born out of something she couldn’t identify.
A knock sounded, snatching her from her dangerous thoughts. “Come in.”
Her bedroom door opened slightly, and a young woman wearing a white cap, a dark dress, and a frilly white apron peered into the room with a smile. “Lord Farthingham is here.”
“Thank you, Nancy.”
Emily squealed and bounded off the bed.
Closing her eyes, Kitty breathed a sigh of relief, issued up a prayer of thanksgiving. Farthingham was exactly what she needed to set her world back on its axis. Because he’d not called since she’d arrived in London, she’d begun to worry that he’d somehow discovered that she’d been led astray, that her doubts had surfaced, and that she’d been harboring impure thoughts.
Following in Emily’s wake, she hurried out of her room to the stairs. The stairway’s landing was a balcony joining two sides of the house, meeting at its center to flow down into a sweeping marble staircase. While Kitty halted at the top to gaze down on her suitor, Emily continued on, rushing down the stairs, skidding across the floor, and coming to a halt in front of Farthingham.
“Lord Farthingham!” Her voice, riddled with excitement and joy, echoed up toward the frescoed domed ceiling.
“Hello, Moppet.” With a gloved hand, he tweaked her nose.
“Did you bring me a surprise?”
“Of course, I did. You’re my second-best girl, don’t you know?” He held out a package wrapped in brown paper.
Taking it, Emily gushed her gratitude before saying, “Kitty’s been waiting forever for you to arrive.”
“Has she now?”
Then he shifted his attention to the top of the stairway, and Kitty felt all her doubts and worries melt away as though they’d never existed. His blond hair had grown a bit longer than she remembered from when she’d last seen him, his side whiskers a tad bushier. But he was as handsome as ever, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.
Walking down the stairs with all the dignity a young lady should exhibit, she dearly wanted to rush down them in the same excitable manner that Emily had only moments before. She approached her suitor and curtsied. “Lord Farthingham.”
He bowed. “Miss Robertson, you are a welcome sight for a lonely heart.”
“As are you, my lord.”
He took both her hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. “I have missed you terribly, my sweet.”
“I missed you, too.”
“Kitty, look! It’s a book. Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales.”
“With colored illustrations,” Farthingham said, still holding one of Kitty’s hands and squeezing it. “Colored illustrations are becoming quite popular and readily affordable with these newfangled printing techniques they’ve developed.”
“Thank you,” Emily said. “I’ll start reading it tonight. Did you bring a gift for Kitty?”
“Emily!” Kitty scolded.
Ignoring Kitty, Emily grinned. “You did, didn’t you?”
“Of course, I did.” He reached into his pocket and brought out a small box wrapped in white paper.
“You shouldn’t have,” Kitty said as she took it and slowly peeled back the paper.
“I know, but I couldn’t resist.”
Opening the box, she smiled at the delicate cameo. “Oh, Nicky, it’s lovely.”
“Not as lovely as you.”
“You flatter me, my lord.”
“Not as much as I intend to once we are married.”
“Mother and Father are out for the afternoon. Would you like to join me for some tea on the terrace?”
“I’d rather have a stroll in the garden if Miss Emily will serve as chaperone.”
Before Kitty could announce that she didn’t think they needed a chaperone, Emily had already proclaimed her willingness to take on the role.
With Emily walking ten paces behind them, Kitty walked through the garden with her arm wound around Farthingham’s. She’d grown up with little chaperoning. It simply wasn’t as prevalent in America as it was in England. She’d spent more time alone with her gentleman by the sea in two days than she had with Lord Farthingham
in all the years she’d known him.
Guilt swamped her with that admission. If she was to be alone with anyone, it should be with the man she intended to marry. If she needed a chaperone, it was when she was with any man other than Farthingham.
“How was Paris?” he asked.
“Lovely.”
“How many new gowns?” he asked.
“Enough to see me through the Season.”
“You’re not comfortable with your father’s wealth,” he speculated quietly.
“He worked hard to build his empire, without any help from me. I simply don’t see the need to brag on it.”
“We’re close to agreeing on the settlement.”
Patting his arm reassuringly, she looked away. “Good.”
“You know you mean a great deal more to me than money, my sweet.”
She returned her gaze to his. “I know. This whole settlement business…I understand it’s necessary for both our sakes. It just”—she lifted a shoulder—“I don’t know. It makes our marriage seem more like a business arrangement. I find the whole process hardly romantic.”
“Hence the very reason I brought you a gift.”
Which he probably shouldn’t have. An expensive piece of jewelry—no matter how lovely—when she had so much already. He could use the money for other more important purchases. But she kept her thoughts to herself, because she knew him well enough to know he had an abundance of pride.
“A lovely gift,” she said. “I’ll wear it to Ravenleigh’s ball next week.”
“Ah, is that the one we’ll attend?”
“Of course. Ravenleigh and father have been friends for as long as I can remember.”
They walked along in companionable silence for several moments before he asked, “How was your holiday in Cornwall?”
She almost tripped over her feet, with the unexpected change in topic. “I was ready to come to London straightaway, but Papa likes to spend a few days getting his land legs back after traveling on the yacht.”
“After all the adventures you’ve been on, I fear you’ll find life with me exceedingly dull.”
She smiled warmly at him. “Never.”
Reaching up, he stroked his gloved thumb across her cheek. “I will make you happy, Kitty, and you’ll never regret marrying me. I swear it.”
“I’m happy now, Nicky.”
He kissed her forehead. “I’m the luckiest of men to have such a devoted lady by my side.”
She averted her gaze, not wanting him to see that she’d not been as devoted as she should have been. She made a silent vow to resist all temptation in the future, to be the loyal, dedicated wife he deserved, so that he might never have regrets. Because she did love him. Her future resided with him, and together they would find happiness.
From that moment, she would never again think of her gentleman by the sea.
From the credenza in the entry hallway, Richard picked up the silver tray brimming with invitations. Since his mother and Anne had arrived in London, they’d been busy making the rounds, and he was the grateful beneficiary of their concerted efforts.
He strode into the morning room, where his mother was busily engaged in delicate needlework that required she wear spectacles to do a proper job. She looked up at him with owl-like eyes that made her seem lonely, and he was hit with a pang of guilt. His father should still be with her, offering companionship and love. Although their marriage had been arranged, they’d always doted on each other, and he knew his mother dearly missed his father.
“Finished with all your business matters so early?” she asked.
“Hardly, but I thought to take a few moments to attend to another urgent matter.” He set the tray on a table beside her. “I require your assistance.”
She removed her spectacles and offered her undivided attention. “Of course, dear.”
He sat in a nearby chair, leaned forward with earnestness, and held her gaze. “Those are various invitations to an assortment of dinners and balls.”
“Yes, dear. I’m well acquainted with invitations.”
She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
“And I am well acquainted with the gentlemen of London. I am also well aware that it is their wives who yield the real power when it comes to the social scene.”
His mother smiled. “I always knew you were a smart lad.”
“Not so smart. I need help in determining which of those I should accept.”
“Splendid. As you can well imagine, I am only too eager to offer my assistance.” She placed her spectacles back on the bridge of her nose and reached for an invitation. “I shall determine which parties shall be attended by the ladies who will make the best selection of a wife.”
He wasn’t searching for a wife but revealing that would no doubt dim her enthusiasm. He cleared his throat. “I am only interested in balls and dinners which are hosted by people who are most likely to entertain Americans.”
She stared at him, her large, round eyes blinking rapidly behind her spectacles. “Pardon?”
“Which parties would an American lady most likely attend? That is what I do not know, what I need your assistance in ascertaining.”
Leaning back in her chair, his mother held the invitation with one hand while flicking its corner with fingers from the other hand. “Would you care to explain your reasoning?”
“Not particularly.”
“Has this anything at all to do with Farthingham?”
Now it was his turn to stare. “Farthingham? Why ever would you think that?”
“You two have always been most competitive, and not only when it came to sports and games. Since he’s apparently decided to take an American as a wife, I thought perhaps you’d decided to outdo him by finding one who has more beauty and wealth at her disposal.”
“My request has nothing at all to do with Farthingham. And I care little about her beauty and absolutely nothing about her wealth.”
“Then why have you developed a sudden keen interest in Americans? It seems most odd when you were listing all their unattractive points to Anne only last week.”
“I’m not interested in Americans. Rather an American. One lady.”
“So you already have a particular lady in mind? This revelation is most interesting. If you were to tell me her name, I could make inquiries.”
“I’m not exactly certain by what name she might be known.” And he wasn’t going to admit that he knew so little about her that he only knew her as Kitty. “Besides, I prefer to be subtle in my endeavors to locate her.”
“Subtle? Men are subtle when searching for a mistress.”
He heaved an impatient sigh. “Mother, all I need to know is to which balls she is most likely to have received an invitation.”
“I had so hoped you’d finally decided to search for a wife.”
“Well, I haven’t. And I’m not entirely certain that I’m searching for a mistress either.” Frustrated by the direction taken by their conversation, he came to his feet, strode to the window, and gazed out. From that vantage point, he saw his greenhouse, already displaying riotous colors in bloom. He had a man who saw to the flowers when Richard wasn’t in London, but when he was in residence, he preferred to tend to the delicate plants himself, many gathered from different parts of the world.
When it came to women, he’d always remained true to England, never desired the exotic. He pressed a hand to the window casing and bowed his head. “I only know that it is imperative that I find her.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Will you help me?”
Something of his desperation must have shown on his face because his mother suddenly looked as lost as he felt.
“Yes, of course.” She placed the tray on her lap and began quickly to look over each invitation.
He returned to the chair, unable to reconcile his tension over so simple a matter or this driving need he had to find Kitty. He thought of her day and night, relived their fiery kisses, and heard the constant echo of her parting words.
He wasn’t even certain what he would do once he found her—but find her he would. He was not one to give up the chase simply because the quarry had no wish to be found.
“I should think Ravenleigh’s ball would be a good place to start,” his mother said, holding up a gilded invitation. “His wife is American, you know.”
“Yes, I believe I do recall hearing that.”
“They have developed the habit of opening their home to any and all Americans, particularly those from Texas.”
“Texas,” he repeated. He thought of her slow drawl, the way she’d not been content simply to be known as an American, but had felt a need to be more specific, to identify her precise origins. Texas.
His mother nodded. “Ravenleigh’s wife comes from somewhere in the state. Her accent is most grating on the ears, but other than that she is most likable.”
“I’ll start there then, but if you’d recommend a few other parties where I can make an appearance if the lady doesn’t attend Ravenleigh’s, I would be most grateful.”
“You’re quite determined to find her, aren’t you?”
His answer was succinctly given, leaving no doubt as to his intent or his determination. “Yes.”
Not only to finding her but to possessing her as well.
Chapter 4
She drew his attention the moment she glided through the doorway at the top of the stairway. She looked as though she not only belonged, but as though she owned the ballroom and every heart within it.
Even from his place on the opposite side of the room, near the French doors that led on to the terrace, Richard could see the sparkle in her green eyes—although the shade was but a memory—and the soft smile she bestowed on her host and hostess, the Earl and Countess of Ravenleigh.
Her upswept hair was wreathed with pale pink roses. He would have thought the color would have clashed with her red hair, but she had the ability to appear at home in whatever she wore—even when it was nothing except that in which she’d been born.
The sight of her caused him to wonder if Anne’s babblings about love might contain a thread of truth, because he swore his chest expanded with Kitty’s radiance.
An Invitation to Seduction Page 4