“I wish you would. Ask him anything you can think of.”
She laughed. “I will. And I pity him if Charity gets ahold of him.”
“I don’t even know if he’s a Whig or a Tory.”
“As if such a thing matters in marriage.”
“It would matter to Charity.”
“Yes, it would.”
Kate hugged Lucy. “Goodnight, sister.”
Kate found easy sleep that night, with thoughts of her family line and Lord Dennison making her smile all the way into her dreams.
The next day found her early in the library, sending off the plates and a new article for Whims and Fancies, one that spoke of a fashionable lord who found a way to present himself in the most classic manner possible. She hoped to turn the tide of the comments spoken about Lord Dennison. She drew plates of the fashions she would be wearing the next week as well, and then sent them all off through a footman.
Then she found her way to the old part of the castle, to begin digging through crates of clothing. She sifted through the oldest fabrics, some falling apart in her fingers, then she pulled out what looked like a small chest. “What is this?” Her fingers trembled as she lifted the chest and placed it in her lap. She adjusted the latch and then lifted the cover. “Oh.” The precious items inside gave her the feeling of opening a window into history—into her family? Perhaps. She lifted out a small rattle, a child’s toy, solid gold. It felt heavy in her hand. The handle was engraved with the initials MMS. Could this be it? She sifted through the other items, most falling into dust. Then another small pouch, the leather soft but still intact, caught her eye. She lifted it, pouring something heavy into her hand.
A ring. A small signet ring that looked to fit a woman. Kate didn’t recognize the coat of arms, but inside, somewhat worn, was one word, a name. She almost jumped up excitedly. Matilda.
King William’s wife’s name was Matilda. But the fact that this ring rested in a chest with a baby rattle meant something, perhaps. She carefully closed the chest and latched it, clutching the rattle and ring in her hand. She moved swiftly through the castle to find her sisters. Perhaps she’d need to get them out of their beds, but no matter. She also sought the book. Perhaps there would be more to learn in the book about Queen Matilda.
Chapter Fifteen
A week full of lovely encounters with Kate—both planned and unplanned—followed, leading to tonight’s familial dinner with the Standishes. Logan and Julia stood at the front door of the castle. He straightened his jacket with a smile.
“Are you wearing that pink monstrosity for a reason?”
He stood taller. “Do you not like it?”
“I’ve told you before what I think of it.”
“But I haven’t changed your mind, even with all my handsome smiles and charming personality?”
“It’s been weeks since you’ve worn your more colorful pieces. And that cravat. The Croatian knot has returned. Are you sure you’re well?”
“I’m perfectly well. What could possibly be wrong with me?”
The door opened to the Standishes’ butler, with Miss Kate right behind, wearing the largest headdress Logan had ever seen. He stopped his laugh, but only just, and kept a straight face as he bowed over her hand. “That’s a lovely pair of feathers.” The two largest plumes rose high above her head.
“Why, thank you. The peacock who donated them will feel gratified to know, I’m certain.” Kate put her hands around his arm and smiled at Julia. “I’m so pleased you could come.”
“I as well, though now, I’m feeling slightly underdressed.”
“I have extra feathers if you’d like.”
“Only if you also have an extra very pink jacket.”
“Unfortunately, I think that jacket is an original,” Kate said.
‘Of course, it’s an original. Do I appear in society with anything copied or fake? Have I ever?” Logan replied.
“No, no, brother. We would never sincerely suspect you of such a thing.”
“Just so.” He entered the Standish castle with his two favorite women on his arms. “I have good feelings about this dinner. Thank you for having us, Miss Kate.”
The Duke of Granbury entered the main hall. “We’re pleased you could come.”
The duchess entered at his side. “Yes, this is lovely.”
“You’ve outdone yourself, Dennison, and just when Her Lady’s Whims and Fancies has mentioned your new, more classical look.”
“What’s this?” Could the Whims and Fancies writers be following him around?
“Perhaps they took note of your appearance at the assembly ball.” Julia squeezed his arm, knowing how much it meant to him to be viewed in a more serious and dedicated light.
Kate knew as well, but she was strangely stiff at his side.
He looked down at the top of her head. She must have felt his gaze. When she looked up at him, he winked.
Her smile grew, and then she nodded. “It’s just as it should be. I’m happy they are appreciating your finer qualities.”
The duke led them into the sisters’ large dining room. “We don’t stand much on ceremony here. Please come in and sit where you like. The others will join us.”
Kate laughed beside him. “I don’t know what’s come over him.”
Then his two boys entered the room, their infant in the hands of the nurse and their young chap walking sedately with jacket, cravat, and breeches.
“What’s this?” Kate ran to him. “You are looking very fine, my lord.” She curtseyed.
And then the lad performed the most perfect bow Logan had seen a lad do.
“Would you look at that.” Logan grinned at the lad, obviously enjoying his display of exceptional manners.
Soon, the room was full of chattering sisters, his own as well as the Standishes, with the occasional deeper voice sounding a response from himself or His Grace. And Logan loved every minute. At one point, amidst happy chatter and laughter all around the table of all energy levels, His Grace and Logan shared a gaze. The duke’s eyes sparkled with joy, and he reached for his wife’s hand. Logan knew this was what he wanted—this family, this love, this trust between two people. His gaze moved to Kate’s, who was wiping laughter tears from her eyes, and he knew. The more he came to know this beautiful woman, the more certain he became of their potential happiness together. Now, to be sure she felt the same, that she would be equally engaged, that she would accept his suit. He grimaced inside. A rejection from Kate would do far more to his heart than the mere tearing that Olivia had inflicted. A rejection from Kate would shred his inner organ from his body and deposit it elsewhere forever.
He forced a swallow of his wine and tried to smile.
“You look as though your impending death had suddenly come calling,” Julia leaned closer and murmured in his ear.
He forced another smile. “Better?”
She laughed. “Worse. What’s come over you?”
“Just my constant fears and insecurities coming to plague me.”
A servant brought in a tray with papers.
Lucy waved the footman over. “Oh, excellent. I wanted to share something I read that sounds frightfully familiar.”
“Lucy, I wonder if now is not the time?”
Kate’s sister just shook her head, all smiles. “These are too good not to share. To think, sisters, we are famous.”
When Miss Lucy held up the paper, Logan groaned. She’d be sharing Her Lady’s Whims and Fancies. He braced himself. Julia’s hand rested on his arm.
Lucy read, “Our king of masterful, though overdone, cravats has perhaps had a transformation. I know our readers will be shocked to hear he has been seen twice in one week wearing black, a simple Oriental knot, and speaking of, you will be amazed to hear, his upcoming work in the House of Lords.” Lucy lifted her eyes and laughed. “Do you see that?” She kept reading. “On the contrary, a young family of sisters has taken Brighton and their castle by storm. Their dress is as garish as it is t
asteful. They are to be sought for fashion advice, as they seem to wear the latest before we even hear of it.” Lucy laughed again. “Did you hear that? That’s all because of you, Kate!”
“Wh-what?”
“You keep us dressed and with hair styled the way you do. Someone has noticed, and now we’re famous.”
“Not exactly what I hoped to become famous for.” Charity took a sip of her drink.
“There’s more.”
“More?” Kate’s surprise seemed genuine. Why wouldn’t there be more?
“Someone has written a counter assessment.”
Kate jumped to her feet. “Let me see that.” She stood over Lucy’s shoulder, and after a glance, shook her head. “This cannot be.”
She reached for it, but Lucy held it away. “Come now, this is good entertainment.”
Kate shared a long look with Lucy for a moment, and then Lucy shrugged. “Or if you want, we can put it away.”
“Thank you. Nothing more to see in that article. How wonderful that we are all featured so positively.”
“How odd.” Julia’s gaze flit from Kate, who had returned to her seat, to Lucy and back.
“I’ll not complain if they never read it again,” Logan said.
Their conversation was held as quiet murmurs to each other. “I quite agree with you.”
Kate had returned to her seat, and conversations were resuming, but Kate had not looked up from her hands. Logan guessed she was reading the papers.
When dinner was at last finished and everyone had moved to a sitting room, Lucy moved to the piano forte to play, and Logan approached Kate. “What did the paper say?”
“Pardon?” She jumped. “Oh.” She looked away. “It was nothing.”
“Kate, you don’t think I will see it? We probably have a copy at the house.”
“Oh, you’re so right. I just didn’t want to interrupt the mood at dinner, and I didn’t want it to be a group discussion. But I am shocked at what they did.”
“Might I see it?”
Kate looked around the room and then sighed. “Very well. Come with me.”
He followed her through two more rooms and then into what looked like a library. “You have a lovely collection, too.”
“Some are very old. We found them in a room full of crates.”
“Did you search more through the clothing?”
“Oh, I did. I cannot wait to show you. We found a baby rattle. And a signet ring!”
“Did you recognize the crest?”
“Not yet. We need to match it, but I suspect it to be William’s wife, or their daughter, with the name of Matilda.” She led him partway into the room.
A messy and crowded-looking desk sat at one end of the room, and another table with chairs at the other. She made her way to the table and lifted the papers. “Come, let’s go talk on the outside verandah.”
“Why not in here? I like this room. We could explore your book collection as we did mine . . .” Logan stepped closer and lifted her hand to his mouth.
“We’ve been in here too long alone as it is. I don’t wish to abuse the duke’s kindness in his giving us so much freedom, nor do I wish to disappoint June or Morley by causing trouble.”
“Who would even consider this scandalous in our present group? Your sisters? Mine?”
“The servants?” Kate raised one brow.
“And you feel they would consider it newsworthy enough to spread our clandestine meeting in an old library to all in Brighton?”
“I can only guess. When you see Whims, you might wonder how people get their information. I certainly do.” Her frown grew. “Oh, read it already.”
He lifted and unfolded the paper. Then he read aloud, “Contrary to the belief of some who might feel that a certain lord has made a complete transformation into a well-thinking, hard-working marquess, he is just biding his time. He will woo us all, and then at the most opportune moment, don the jester’s outfit once more and make fools of us all.”
Logan was surprised at his own inner turmoil. The words, though meant to be humorous, were as hurtful as any he’d read, and they tore at his ability to make a difference. Who would ever take him seriously if the attention continued?
“Why would someone do this? How do they know or care about my efforts for the House of Lords?” He shook his head in quiet disbelief.
“I’m sorry.” Kate’s voice, a half-strangled whisper, shook him out of his selfish, encompassing focus.
Her face was pained, almost panicked, and her hands shook.
“No, no. Come here. Please don’t be so unhappy.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. “This has to go away sometime. I’ll be fine. As long as I don’t wear this pink jacket in public again . . .” He laughed. But she didn’t respond.
He pulled away to get a good look at her face. She looked determined, stoic. She lifted her chin. “I have to tell you something.” Then her lip trembled.
Logan’s hand went to the side of her face; tenderly, gently, his thumb caressed the soft skin near her mouth, hoping to tug it upward.
When she lifted her eyes to his, there was so much desperation or something in them, so much worry, that he pressed his lips to hers. It was meant to be a quick, soft motion to set her mind at ease, but her response was anything but soft. She clung to him, her kisses almost fierce in their intensity, the longing obvious, the pleading for . . . something. She tugged and kissed, and when her teeth bit into his lower lip, he was lost. One tiny thread of awareness reminded him where they were, but his arms pulled her closer. He leaned back against the edge of the table, pulling her even closer, and responded to every bit of her urgency with increasing tension of his own.
Until someone cleared their throat in the doorway. His foggy mind only half-registered the noise. “I was just looking for something to read . . .” The Duke of Granbury’s voice sounded anything but amused.
Logan paused, resting his mouth against Kate’s to give her a moment, then turned to His Grace. He tried humor. With the corner of his mouth raised, he laughed. “That was our intent as well.”
But the duke did not smile. His stare bore into Logan with the protectivity of an angry father, and Logan knew his place. As his arms pulled Kate close one more time and he kissed her forehead, he murmured, “Why don’t you let me talk to the duke for a moment?”
She looked away and nodded, and then ran from the room.
Chapter Sixteen
Kate half-sobbed, half-moaned all the way to June’s room. Even though June was not home, she needed her. She needed some good advice, something, anything, and so she fell on her oldest sister’s bed and cried out her guilt. For that was the strongest feeling to rule the moment. Guilt that she had created such a problem for Lord Dennison, one she hadn’t been able to fix simply by writing a complimentary report. And she wanted to tell him. Would he still love her? Or would he think she had betrayed him and hate her like he did Olivia? Could she give him up for the sake of being honest?
If she couldn’t look him in the face without the cloud of guilt taking over her peace, what was the point of being together?
A soft hand rested on her shoulder.
Kate turned.
Amelia sat beside her on the bed. “It’s not so very awful, is it? To be kissing the man that you love?” Her eyes sparkled with fun. “We should celebrate another upcoming wedding, no?”
Kate’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” Her mind raced to their kiss and Gerald’s angry expression. “No. Amelia. No. We cannot be forced to marry.”
“Forced isn’t precisely the word, but I do believe neither of you has a choice.”
“Of course, we do. We are here in my home with only family around. No one here need force us.”
Amelia’s soft hands took Kate’s in her own. “It is not merely a matter of reputation. If you are finding moments alone in such an intense manner, it is best you marry now, and then you won’t need to try and avoid each other.”
Kate trie
d to understand her words, but knew she was missing a rather large something, and she suspected it had more to do with married women than she would be able to grasp now. “That is ridiculous. As if Lord Dennison and I could not be alone together without behaving . . . When are we ever alone, anyway?” Often, if she were being honest. And every time, they had found a moment to kiss. Two times. “We can easily continue a . . . courtship, without behaving . . . Oh, Amelia. This might ruin everything.”
“I’m more concerned about a different kind of ruin. Gerald asked me to speak to you. He said Lord Dennison is willing to do his duty by you. He is an honorable man. Who I think you love . . . You do love him, don’t you?”
“Painfully so.”
Amelia’s worry lines relaxed. “Then I see no problem here at all.” She ran her fingers through Kate’s hair, pulling out pins one by one. “You two shall be very happy together. And a marquess. Do you think Lucy will approve?” Amelia’s laugh should have brought a smile to Kate’s face, but she could only feel a rising sense of dread.
“He has gone home to find a ring, to get his papers in order, and then he will return to talk over the contracts with Gerald. I expect he will propose if that meeting ends to everybody’s satisfaction.”
Kate shook her head. “This is . . . nothing like I had imagined.” She thought of Lord Dennison, forced into proposing before he was ready, thought of the fear that must be going through his mind, thought of her great betrayal of him. “Oh, Amelia. I’ve done something just awful. Once he finds out, he won’t want to marry me.” The words came out as though forced. If they had stayed inside any longer, perhaps she would have burst.
“What are you talking about?” Amelia’s face then cleared in recognition. “Oh, your fashion plates?”
“I knew you knew.”
“How could I not? I’d recognize your work anywhere.”
“No one else knows.”
“Knows what?” Charity stood in the doorway, with Lucy and Grace crowding in beside her.
Kate waved them in. “You may as well all know. I’m in a terrible bind.”
Her Lady's Whims and Fancies: Sweet Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 3) Page 12