Seduction of a Proper Gentleman (Last Man Standing)

by Victoria Alexander

  And with any luck, what he wanted was her.

  She rose to her feet and started toward the door. She had to tell him she knew who she was. Her step faltered. Exactly what did she intend to say? She couldn’t just blurt out the truth. A man as sensible as Oliver would be hard pressed to accept magic as an explanation for anything. And if he didn’t believe that—and what rational person would?—he would wonder whether she had indeed ever lost her memory at all. As for the curse…she cringed. When his mother had brought up the suggestion of a curse he had sensibly rejected the idea as nonsense. She distinctly recalled having had much the same reaction when she was first told about it.

  No, she had to find the right words or she could well lose Oliver forever. Her heart caught at the thought. She couldn’t just come out with something like this. Kathleen twisted her hands together in desperation. How could she tell him? What could she say?

  She moved to stand before the cheval mirror in the corner of her room. Absently she noted that it was rather nice to look into a mirror and recognize your own face. Still, that scarcely mattered at the moment. She clasped her hands together, ignored the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach and drew a deep breath.

  “Oliver,” she began. That was good. Forthright, honest, direct.

  “Oliver,” she said again. “I have something to tell you.” Yes, so far, very good.

  “I have news.” Better. Who didn’t like news?

  “Good news.” Better yet.

  “I know who I am.” And then? “And…and…” She raised her chin. “And my purpose here is to convince you to marry me as both our families are under a curse and only our marriage will break the curse.” She cast her most brilliant smile at the image in the mirror. “Fortunately, I am fairly certain I have fallen in love with you.” Dear God, she looked like an idiot. “Which is quite fortuitous as this is a match five hundred years in the making.” Even worse, she sounded like one.

  This was going to require serious thought and until she had determined the best way to tell Oliver everything, it might be wise not to tell him anything at all.

  Perhaps it would be best if she didn’t remember her entire life at once. Perhaps she should lead him by the hand and ease his way into the truth, one fact at a time. She could start by telling him she had remembered she was a widow. Yes, he’d like that. Or perhaps she should simply flee, borrow a carriage and find her aunt, who probably couldn’t undo what she had done anyway.

  Right now, Kathleen could certainly do with a bracing cup of tea. And perhaps a small glass of brandy. Or good Scottish whisky.

  She cast one last glance at the mirror and shook her head. Wringing Hannah’s neck wouldn’t solve Kathleen’s dilemma, although it had a great deal of appeal. Hannah had taken any decision out of her niece’s hands and had placed her in a situation where she risked losing everything. She had taken Kathleen’s memory and left her alone.

  And damn the woman, she had taken her clothes.

  Chapter 13

  “Good morning, Oliver.” Kate stepped into the library and closed the door behind her.

  Oliver rose to his feet behind his desk. “Kate, what a pleasant surprise.” He grinned. “I feared we would never see one another alone again.”

  “I had hoped to speak with you yesterday afternoon. Or evening.” Her jaw clenched. “Your cousins seem to have appointed themselves my constant companions. They’re pleasant enough about it but I cannot seem to get away from them. Not only do they suspect me of deceit but I think they wish to keep you and I apart. They’re very protective of you, you know.”

  He chuckled. “They are probably taking turns watching your bedroom door at night.”

  “Or yours,” she said wryly but in spite of the amusement in her voice there was something different about Kate today.

  He wasn’t sure what it was but he had first noticed it yesterday afternoon at tea and again at dinner. Kate had been unusually quiet, preoccupied he had thought, but there was more. It struck him that she moved differently than she had before. Her carriage had always been excellent but her shoulders seemed somewhat straighter. There was as well a subtle air of resolve about her as if she were determined to go forward. And the lost look in her eyes was gone. He couldn’t help but wonder if she had given up. His heart twisted for her. Kate was the type of woman who would never be happy to live with unanswered questions. But perhaps now her courage was failing.

  “Kate,” he said gently. “Is something amiss?”

  She raised a brow. “Something new you mean?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I suppose so.” He paused. “You seem…different today.”

  “Do I?” She wandered to a bookshelf and perused the offered spines but Oliver had the distinct feeling she wasn’t seeing the books. “In what manner do I seem different?”

  “I’m not sure.” He moved to her side, leaned his back against the shelves and crossed his arms.

  Her gaze stayed on the books but she directed her words to him. “Why are you staring at me?”

  “I’m trying to answer your question.” He studied her for a long moment. “Let me see. Your appearance has not changed. Your nose is still disturbingly pert.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “Disturbingly?”

  “I find myself quite disturbed by it. It is among the many things about you I cannot get out of my head.”

  “Ah yes. You close your eyes only to see my face.”

  “I don’t believe I ever actually said that.” He grinned. “Although it’s true. And then there are your eyes.”

  “Part of my face.”

  “And yet worthy of comment on their own.”

  “Are they disturbing as well?”

  “Nothing disturbs me more. As for the rest of you.” His gaze slid over her and his stomach tightened. Had he ever wanted any woman more? “Your form, your figure is quite disturbing. And I suspect your legs might well be my undoing.”

  She slanted him an amused glance. “You’re flirting with me, Oliver. In a most outrageous and completely improper way.”

  “Indeed, I am.” He grinned in an unrepentant manner.

  “To what end?”

  He laughed. “I must confess, while I have been accused of flirting any number of times, I have never been asked my intention in doing so before.”

  “What are your intentions?”

  “Well, my desire is to take you in my arms and kiss you quite thoroughly until the two of us are reduced to a quivering puddle of delight. Then my desire would be to carry you to the sofa in front of the fireplace and make love to you in a mad and passionate manner until the very earth beneath us explodes with the intensity of our union.”

  She gasped in feigned shock. “Here in the library?”

  He nodded. “Right here in front of Browning and Wordsworth.”

  She stared at him for a moment then laughed.

  “Not precisely the response a man wants to hear when he issues declarations of this nature.” He clasped his hand over his heart. “You wound me deeply.”

  “Nonsense, Oliver.” She scoffed. “You’re not the least bit wounded. Besides the question was about your intentions not your desires.”

  “Ah well, intentions, that’s another matter entirely. My intention always is to take you in my arms and—”

  “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.” She bit back a smile.

  “Unfortunately, as I suspect our moments alone together are fleeting and any minute now one, or all, of my cousins shall burst through the door with an excuse that sounds quite plausible but is ridiculous nonetheless, that particular intention will have to wait. Therefore, at the moment, my intention.” He met her gaze. “Is simply to make you smile.”

  A genuine smile curved her lips. “You have succeeded admirably. Should I ever find myself the least bit downhearted I shall think of your desires in the library and I shall surely never be melancholy again.”

  “Are you melancholy?”

  “No.” She stepped
away, wandered slowly along the bookshelves, trailing her long, slender fingers over the volumes. “I am…reflective. Pensive perhaps. I have been doing a great deal of thinking.”

  He shook his head in a mournful manner. “That’s never good.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “Why on earth not?”

  “It’s been my experience that when an intelligent woman thinks too much, no good can come of it.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Are you trying to make me smile again?”

  “No.” He grinned. “I was being entirely forthright. There is nothing I find more terrifying than the end result of the thinking of a clever woman. However, I am a brave sort.” He squared his shoulders. “Tell me straight off, what have you been thinking?”

  “I have been wondering…” She continued along the shelves and he found himself the tiniest bit jealous of the books who were at this moment knowing Kate’s lingering touch. “What will happen when I recover my memory?”

  “I would say that very much depends on what you remember. Who you are, where you are from.” He shrugged. “All of it.”

  “Yes, I realize that.” A hint of impatience sounded in her voice. “What I meant was”—she paused and met his gaze directly—“what will happen between you and I?”

  “That too depends. My hope is that you are free and you and I—”

  “Yes?”

  He stared at her for a moment. You and I what? Oliver drew a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “You and I can look toward a future together.”

  “How lovely.” She smiled but her green eyes were somber. Apparently his answer wasn’t entirely right. “Regardless?”

  “What do you mean regardless,” he said slowly.

  “I mean there are all sorts of things that might preclude a future together.”

  He drew his brows together. “Other than your being married I can’t think of anything that would preclude a future together.”

  “What if I was…” She thought for a moment. “Poor?”

  “I have more than enough money.”

  “What if my family was…disreputable?”

  “Then we shan’t invite them for dinner.”

  “What if they were odd? Or unusual?”

  He laughed. “Then I would say they would fit in splendidly.”

  “What if your family and mine are…are mortal enemies?”

  “My family has no mortal enemies. We are quite an unassuming lot, we very rarely annoy anyone. At least, not all of us at once. But if we did have mortal enemies, then you and I shall be Romeo and Juliet.”

  “They did not end well.” A warning sounded in her voice.

  “We will end better,” he said firmly.

  “What if…” She searched for the right words. “What if I am not the type of person you think I am?”

  “No, Kate. That is one eventuality I have every confidence will not occur. No.” He shook his head. “My feelings won’t change because your name does.”

  She considered him for a long moment. “Very well then.” She drew a deep breath. “Oliver, I have something to tell you.”

  “Go on.”

  “I have…news.”

  “How very intriguing.”

  “I have remembered…” The most awful look of apprehension flashed through her eye. Bloody hell, she was married. A heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach. “A few things,” she said weakly. “A house, a face, that sort of thing.”

  “The face perhaps of a husband?”

  “Of a grandmother I believe.”

  Relief washed through him. “Well, that’s very good. Very good indeed. Anything else? Names? That sort of thing?”

  She stared at him. “No,” she said at last. “Not yet but bits and pieces are starting to return to me. Hopefully, it will all become clear any day now.”

  “Excellent.” He moved to her and took her hands. “With any luck we shall soon be able to put all this behind us.” Voices sounded in the corridor; obviously his cousins were preparing for invasion. He leaned forward, quickly brushed his lips across hers and ignored the pressing need for more than a mere kiss. “Until then.”

  She gazed up at him, uncertainty in her green eyes. What did she fear she would remember that was so dreadful? “I have another fitting. I should go before…” She nodded at the door.

  “I should hate to provide a bad example for them.” He chuckled. “If I were to find Gen in the arms of Mr. Berkley in the library, I would have to take the young man to task as well as demand to know if his intentions are honorable.”

  “How very brotherly of you.”

  “Indeed it is and I don’t mind telling you it’s quite a daunting responsibility. One I should have understood long before now. If my cousins were to catch you in my arms they would no doubt charge me with hypocrisy and I would be forced to explain the differences in behavior expected of young ladies in their first season and those of us considerably more experienced.”

  She raised a brow. “More experienced?”

  “By virtue of age,” he said quickly. “I meant experienced in…in life. Nothing more than that.”

  She laughed lightly. “You needn’t look so concerned. I am not the least bit offended. I am well aware of my age if not, at the moment, my experiences.” She turned toward the door then turned back. “Oliver, are your intentions honorable?”

  “As previously stated, my intentions, for the moment, are the epitome of honor.” He grinned in a wicked manner. “My desires are another matter entirely.”

  She met his gaze boldly. “As are mine.” She nodded, opened the door and stepped into the corridor. The sound of feminine chatter drifted into the room.

  As annoying as it was to be constantly chaperoned by young women barely out of the schoolroom, he was right. He and Kate did need to set an example. Why if Oliver so much as suspected Mr. Berkley of having the same type of lascivious thoughts about Gen that Oliver had about Kate, Oliver would indeed be forced to thrash him thoroughly in defense of the young woman’s honor. Although it wouldn’t be at all fair to thrash a man simply for his thoughts. Good Lord, neither Oliver nor any of his friends would have survived their younger days if they’d been taken to task for idle lusting. No, Oliver would simply have to make certain young Berkley, and Gen as well, did not act on those desires. Still, as long as she and her sisters were busy watching he and Kate, he grinned with satisfaction, Gen would have no time for Berkley.

  As for Kate, his smile faded, her concern was obvious. It was, no doubt, fear of the unknown and nothing more significant than that. He had meant what he’d said. He couldn’t imagine anything that would be so dreadful as to keep them apart.

  Kathleen never imagined she’d be grateful for the interference of the Fairchild sisters but their efforts to keep her and Oliver apart had a decided benefit. If she couldn’t be alone with him she certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. And she still had no idea how to do that.

  She paced to and fro in her sitting room. She had fully intended to tell him yesterday that her memory had returned but had had no opportunity thanks to the girls. Today in the library she had started to confess everything but her courage had failed her. It was most annoying as she had always considered herself to be quite courageous. Why, hadn’t she come to England in the first place to marry a man she’d never met? Still, her courage at the moment was obviously contingent on the right words and the right words evaded her. Nor could she shake the terror that gripped her at the thought of his reaction. She couldn’t recall ever knowing fear like this before. She had always been in control of her life and her emotions. Fear was foreign to her but then she’d never had so much to lose before.

  Blast it all, she needed somebody besides herself to talk to about all this. She simply couldn’t work it out by herself. It was entirely too convoluted and confusing. As angry as she was at Hannah, she now wished Hannah was here. At least Hannah would come up with some sort of plan. It would probably be absurd with no hope of success but it would be bett
er than nothing and nothing was precisely what Kathleen had at the moment.

  A knock sounded at her door.

  The girls had no doubt tracked her down although she had assumed she was safe alone in her room. They probably wanted to make certain Oliver wasn’t with her. She resisted the urge to snap. “Yes?”

  The door opened and Lady Norcroft poked her head in. “I wondered where you had gone off to. Whatever are you doing here alone?”

  “I am simply trying to sort out…” Kathleen paused. Sort out what? “Everything.”

  Lady Norcroft stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Everything about my son you mean.”

  Kathleen nodded. “For the most part.”

  Lady Norcroft settled into a chair and studied Kathleen. “What do you intend to do now?”

  “That’s very much the problem. I have no idea what to do now.”

  “You need a plan.”

  Kathleen uttered a short laugh. “Indeed I do. Pity I don’t have one.”

  “On the other hand a plan is probably pointless until your memory returns.”

  “Yes, of course,” Kate murmured.

  “However, one should be prepared for any eventuality.” Lady Norcroft shook her head. “I would hate to see the two of you lose what you have found.”

  Kathleen sank onto the chaise. “Lose what we have found?”

  “You needn’t deny it. Why, he nearly kissed you in the ballroom, right under the nose of his mother. Oliver has never been known to be that impulsive or that improper. No.” She met Kathleen’s gaze directly. “Whenever the two of you are in the same room, the very air is thick with something quite remarkable. I feel as if I am witness to the convergence of fate.”

  “Fate?”

  “Or destiny perhaps.” A knowing smile curved Lady Norcroft’s lips. “Or even a match five hundred years in the making.”

  Kathleen stared. Surely Lady Norcroft didn’t know the truth? She couldn’t possibly know. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you understand. Do remember that I am full of surprises as well as secrets. And I do so love keeping them, I’m very good at that.” Lady Norcroft’s smile widened. “I not only know who you are but I know precisely why you are here.”