by Suzan Butler, Emily Ryan-Davis, Cari Quinn, Vivienne Westlake, Sadie Haller, Holley Trent
Why did Avery give her that look? She could only think of it as pity. Was she pitiable? Perhaps. But her course had been set since the day Kit had rescued her.
“I am no innocent, Avery. You and I both know that was robbed of me long ago. Now, my choice is to accept the truth and to prepare for it as best I can. I know you sent out a few inquiries when he first arrived, but I want you to try again.”
She was surprised to hear him speak as he’d been silent for so long. “Has he remembered aught else?”
Now she was the one who nodded.
“Is there anything that can identify his lordship? Has he remembered his family name?”
“I do not think so. However, he did mention that he remembers being a pugilist. And given the scars we’ve seen on his body, I can believe it. We know his name is Kit or Christopher and now we know he frequented boxing matches in London. That should surely help us track down his family, if he has any.”
“You know as well as I, my lady, that he is no mere thug who made his fortune in sport.” The gravel in his voice made Violet look up.
“Probably not. But if we can find some of the patrons for these matches, someone ought to recognize him.”
“I cannot access the clubs of the fancy.”
She smiled. “Something tells me he did not discriminate against an able-bodied opponent if they had the backing to put up for the match.”
“Aye.”
His officious demeanor was slipping, but Violet was polite enough not to remark on it. Charles Avery had his secrets, just like Kit. And though he was her closest friend, she might never know what they were.
“The more we know about him, the better.”
“And you are sure you wish to know?”
No. But she would not say it aloud. “Yes. I know the man that he is, but we need to find out who he was before he came here. At the very least, we should inform his family of his whereabouts. Christmastide is almost upon us.”
She didn’t know why it mattered so much. Whether he were a lord or a commoner, he could choose to leave at any time. Perhaps the old expression was true: to be forewarned was to be forearmed?
Avery nodded. “Very well, my lady. I shall send a letter to some friends in London to see what I can discover. There is a chance I may have to travel there myself.”
“If such a need arises, we will make arrangements.” She stood. “I would rather send you than hire someone or send a footman.”
“We could inquire with Bow Street.”
“Yes, that is a possibility. But you are the one I trust.” She put her hand on his arm. “Thank you.”
“My lady is most welcome.”
He exited the room and she breathed a sigh of relief. She still hadn’t addressed the inevitable gossip of the servants, but one worry was off her table.
Chapter Eight
Kit sat at the table with a piece of paper and a quill. As soon as Violet was gone, he’d bribed Adam, one of the footmen, to bring him something to write with. He needed to get a letter to Freddy. Though Kit was not yet ready to leave Welbury Park, it would be cruel to let Bella think something terrible had happened to him.
For all her meddling, Kit loved Bella and he would not make her relive the horror of losing their parents. This was a hard time for her as it was. He regretted storming off, but it was hard not to rage against her despotism. Bella was a beautiful tyrant with no country to subjugate.
He shook his head as he scribbled the opening lines. Poor Freddy received the brunt of her domination. Though for some strange reason, Freddy seemed to like it. Maybe he knew some secret that Kit had never learned.
Kit read over the short missive, knowing Freddy would be smart enough to read between the lines.
Dear Freddy,
You will forgive this brief note as I have no time for niceties. I recently came to some difficulty while assisting a lovely lady on the road. Some ruffians attempted to make off with her purse—and a good deal more. If you saw her, you’d understand why common men believe in angels.
I sustained an injury, so said angel took me into her home and has taken very good care of me. I will rest here for a few more weeks and then return in time for Christmas day.
Trust me that all is well. I will see you soon, brother. Tell Bella I will come back shortly, but do not tell her where I am. Keep her busy.
I will see you in a few weeks.
Sincerely,
Kit
Marquess of Kittrick
Welbury Park
Leicestershire, England
He folded up the missive and went to the satchel that Avery had retrieved for him. He folded back the thick leather and dug around for the nub of wax and his seal ring.
Dipping the wick into a candle flame, he watched the green wax pool onto the parchment. Once he sent this letter, there was no denying his past. Any fantasy he might have had about staying with Violet at Welbury Park was gone. A man with no name, no past could be free to choose the future as he wished.
A marquess had responsibilities. For all his wealth, he could not erase his title or his station. He was branded at birth, and no matter how much he rebelled against the confines of the court and polite society, he would never completely escape them.
He pressed down the ring, which formed a ram’s head surrounded by laurel leaves. With a sigh, he put the ring away and tapped on the door three times, giving the signal for Adam to return for the letter.
It was done now. He tried not to think about the future beyond tonight. Tonight he had everything to look forward to. An enticing woman with a mind as wanton as her luscious body would be his to devour. That was all that mattered, all he wanted to remember.
Kit spent the next few hours alternating between resting and imagining Violet draped across his bed, naked and yielding to every dirty thing he wanted to do to her. He didn’t get much sleep.
In his mind, he saw her body over and over again, even remembering the mole on her torso and a tiny one on the back of her neck. He would kiss every inch of skin, explore every curve and crevice.
That is, if she would let him.
She said she needed time. What did that mean? Was it a day? A week? A month—Bloody Hell, it better not be that long. Patience was a skill he avoided. There were too many pleasures in life to dilly-dally. Abstinence was for monks, not healthy, attractive men in their prime.
So here he was, waiting. She’d promised to come to him for dinner. In anticipation of tonight’s festivities, he’d given himself a fast towel bath and put on the nicer of the two dressing gowns he had. He’d begged Mrs. Norris for a proper dinner jacket and pantaloons, but the old woman said he needed to rest his injuries and refused to oblige him.
Avery did not argue with Mrs. Norris, but did give him a comb, a nice crisp shirt, cravat, and a bit of cologne.
He was tying his cravat when there was a knock at the door.
“You may enter.”
Violet, followed by Mrs. Norris and Sally, came in with trays of food. He watched Sally lay out a thick white tablecloth over the old walnut table. While it was certainly an improvement, it did not cover the gnawed leg.
Violet wore a pale yellow gown adorned with sparkling gold dots. His eyes skimmed over the puff sleeves to the generous swell of her bosom—which was well displayed—and he was even more pleased when she turned and he could see the elegant curve of her back. The dress split to form a long V, leaving her back mostly open.
Though she was fully dressed, she might as well be naked. He must send a letter of praise to her dressmaker. As necklines got lower, gentlemen looked forward to dinner and opera and all the social niceties women required of them.
He’d gladly give his wife a little more purse money if she looked like that.
What? What the hell had just gone through his mind? Kit didn’t have a wife, nor did he want one.
Yet, he could imagine Violet coming to his bed every night. He could imagine sittin
g across from her at a long table and ignoring everyone else present. He could imagine conversing with her at the opera and admiring a view that had nothing to do with the actors on stage.
“I hope you are hungry.” She smiled at him as the servants laid out an elaborate spread for them. “I arranged for the soup and main course to be delivered at once.”
A footman lifted a silver lid, revealing roasted mutton with carrots and potatoes. Kit could smell the rosemary. His mouth salivated as each dish was uncovered.
The smell of the fresh baked bread made his stomach squeeze. He’d hardly eaten this morning because Violet hadn’t come to breakfast with him. She more than made up for it now, first with a gown that displayed almost every curve he longed to see and now with savory meats and vegetables and a delicious-looking soup.
He waited until the footman had sliced the meats and served up the bowls of broth to speak.
“You look lovely, Violet.”
“Thank you, Kit.”
As he sipped his soup, he watched her. He noted each rise and fall of her bosom, noted the way she held her spoon to her lips. Mmmmmm. What he wouldn’t give to sample her mouth again.
She blushed and glanced at her staff then looked down at her soup. This wouldn’t do. Violet was back to the shy female he met weeks ago. He preferred her as she was earlier, bold and carefree. Wanton to the core.
“Would you please excuse us?” he said to Sally and the others. One by one, they filed out of the room.
Violet’s eyes went wide. “Why did you do that?”
“So that I could do this.” He set down his tray and climbed down from the bed to take her hand and kiss it, first going up her fingers then turning to kiss the inside of her wrist.
“We are having dinner!” With another blush, she glanced away.
“Where is my wicked widow?” he asked. “I quite like her.”
Her eyes turned green again and he decided this was his favorite shade of hazel.
“I already shamed myself by staying with you in the bright light of day. At least we could wait until everyone is abed.”
He wanted her now. “You will learn that I am not good at waiting.”
She bit her lip and pulled her arm back. “You shall have to learn.”
“It is not as if they are ignorant.”
“Just because I chose to…be intimate with you does not mean I need to flaunt it about like dinner theater. What I choose to do with you is my affair, but I will not give them more gossip than we have already. I am the lady of this house. I will behave as such.”
He walked over to her chair and turned her so that he could place his arms on either side. “You are the lady of this house, but this room is mine. When you walk through that door, you leave all of that behind you.”
“Of all of the arrogant and presumptuous things—”
“Would you have me be some meek invalid led around by the apron strings of his nurse?”
“No.”
He leaned in close and gave her a dark stare. She should know he would not take orders from her.
“Kit,” she said, pushing him away and jumping out of her chair. “You may well be lord of your own province somewhere, but here in this house, I am queen. You are here at my discretion, so it does not matter your title or station. You will treat me as your equal, not as your courtesan.”
The fire in her eyes should have made him back down. It was as good as a slap in the face. Instead of being angry or rebuked, he was glad. This was the woman he adored. The one who had disappeared moments ago.
She continued. “I am not your mistress, Kit.”
Hmmmm. The thought had not entered his mind before now. Would she consider it? If he asked her, would she become his mistress? Or, would she part ways with him once she found out the truth about his identity?
Another woman would expect him to marry her. Somehow, he could not imagine Violet doing so. Obviously, she had enough money to support herself well. She had at least eight servants by his guess and a fine country home, though a little isolated. While she was no countess, she lived very comfortably.
What benefit would there be to her? She had her freedom now. Still, if she were his mistress, he could see her whenever he pleased. He could shower her with gifts and take her on a tour of the Continent. Maybe even take her to the Americas. And when she tired of him—or he of her—they could part as friends.
If she were his wife, she would have that and more. But unlike most of the women he’d met, she did not covet being a marchioness. He’d overheard Miriam and Sally one day and knew that Violet had turned down the proposal of an earl over a year ago. If she were hungry for a title, she would have taken it.
He could ask her to be his mistress. She’d brought it up. But as he looked in her eyes, the words died before they could ever be spoken. She was too fierce and independent to become his chatelaine. The thing he loved about her was that independence, the innate strength and capability that were as natural to her as breathing.
She was not Isabella. She was not his mother or his aunt. Violet was something else altogether.
“I apologize,” he said, gently taking her elbow and gesturing for her to sit. “Let us resume dinner and I will try to behave in a civilized fashion.” He winked at her. “I make no promises after dessert.”
“You are incorrigible.”
* * * *
Violet took her seat and waited for him to go back to his place on the bed. It was odd to sit at dinner this way, with Kit’s long legs draped across the bed and him in clothes no woman should see save his wife and his mother. She reminded herself that they’d done this before, many times.
It felt different now. Maybe it was knowing the sensation of his hands on her body, the pleasure of them in her sex. She shifted in the hard chair, pretending that she didn’t feel the stirring in her belly, which had little to do with the savory food displayed before them.
Giving in now would set a precedent, and she could not allow him to have the upper hand. Kit expected everyone in his presence to acquiesce to his commands. Did it even occur to him that anyone would disobey? She doubted it.
Violet knew she was in too deep, thrust in the middle of a vast ocean with no boat and no paddle. She clung to the tiny raft of her control. It was all that could save her from drowning.
The truth was, she wanted to yield. She wanted to let him conquer her body in any and every fashion he could contrive. But like him, she had her pride. Though it was her fear that drove her rather than protecting her vanity.
If she gave all to him, what would be left for her once he departed? Her heart and body already were lost, what else would she surrender along with them? Her soul?
“You are far too quiet, Mrs. Laurens.”
Her head snapped up. He had not called her that in a very long time. “Hmmm?”
“You have barely touched your soup and your mind is preoccupied. Would you like to tell me what troubles you?”
No. She would not. “Next month is Christmas. With so much going on, I had not even thought about it. We shall have to get a goose and pick out garlands and mistletoe. We shall need to cut down a tree for the yule log.”
“That is not what you were thinking about. Come here, Violet.”
It was not a request and she did not have the energy to fight him. She set her napkin on the table and walked over to the bed.
He made space next to him and patted the bed. “Sit down.”
Warmth seeped into her from the spot where he’d been lying. The urge to lean into him and drink up the heat from his body was almost too hard to resist. She swayed and then pulled back.
Kit made the decision for her and pulled her against him. So close that she could smell the cologne he wore. She’d been too distracted to notice it before. It reminded her of a dark forest, woodsy and strong. Yet it drew her in so that she snuggled closer.
“You are full of contradictions,” he said, kissing her crown.
“One minute you are sensible and demure, the next you spark like a raging fire, and then you’re soft and pliant like a ball of cotton.”
She was too comfortable in his arms to do anything but let him hold her. What was wrong with her today? She’d slept with a man she’d only known for weeks and in the broad light of day. She’d taunted him and teased him then let him spank her! Now, here she was, behaving like a helpless child.
What was it about him that raised all her defenses, then ravaged them to pieces?
“Your mind spins like the wheel of a phaeton at top speed. Do not think so much, darling. Your head will combust.”
A half-chuckle was all that she could manage. Something was breaking inside of her and she did not know what it was. Where was her strength? The resolve she’d had only moments ago?
“I am fine now.” She had to be. Violet took a deep breath and returned to a sitting position.
“Are you sure?”
No. “Surely I am just famished. Once I take a few bites, all will be well.”
To her surprise, he spooned up the soup and gripped her chin so that he could pour the now tepid liquid into her mouth.
“That is not necessary. I can go to my own plate.”
His fingers were soft as he pulled her mouth open again. “You said you needed food. I am giving it to you.” Another spoonful of liquid poured down her mouth.
When was the last time someone had ministered to her? Violet was always the one who cared for the sick. The last time she remembered someone doing this for her was Avery, years ago.
“Would you like a taste of the mutton?” Kit asked. “Or more soup?”
“Soup.”
He repeated the process, but when a little trickle spilled at the corner of her mouth, he kissed her. It was firm, but without command, and it ended a moment after it began.
Another spoonful appeared and she let him feed her, though her gaze kept venturing back to his lips.
“If you keep watching me that way, I shall forget about my promise to behave.”
“Who told you to behave?” She smiled.