by Julia London
So Kate stood. She politely declined the offer of wine from a passing footman. She fanned herself as she waited, watching the crowd. She spoke to several gentlemen. Lord Bromley remarked on the festive evening. Lord Callendar tried to entice her to dance, but Kate politely refused with the excuse of a sore ankle. She didn’t feel as if she could ever dance again, really.
She noticed Grayson’s sister across the room—she was laughing at something her husband said.
“At whom are you peering so curiously?”
Kate turned to see who had spoken. She’d never met the woman who was speaking to her and squinting across the room. “You seemed so intent that I was very curious to know who had captured your attention so completely.”
“Ah … just there,” Kate said, said uncertainly. “Lady Beaumont.”
“Aha,” the woman said and nodded, and when she did, her feather headdress bounced over her eye. She looked at Kate. “You’re very pretty, aren’t you? What is your name?”
“Miss Katharine Bergeron.”
“Miss Bergeron, you are speaking to Lady Hathcock,” she said, inclining her head. “I should think with your exceptional looks, you will be in high demand this Season. Who is sponsoring you?”
“Sponsoring me?” Kate asked, confused.
“Your patron dear. Who intends to put you in society?”
Kate didn’t know what to say to that. “The Prince of Wales?”
“The prince, indeed?” Lady Hathcock laughed, but then her eyes suddenly widened. “Oh my, you are her. I’ve heard all about you, yes I have!”
Kate winced.
But Lady Hathcock smiled. “Well done, Miss Bergeron!”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t look so astonished,” the woman chastised her. “Not everyone believes that this annual display of females is particularly civilized. At least you won’t have to parade about and demonstrate your figure in order to entice a husband, will you? See that one?” she said, nodding to someone behind Kate.
Kate turned; there was a pretty young woman behind her.
“That’s Miss Augusta Fellows. She’s thought to be this Season’s best catch. Don’t know why that is—she looks like all the others if you ask me, and I see nothing to recommend her above Sarah Wilson or Susan Highcroft, yet everyone is all atwitter about Miss Fellows,” she said, fluttering her fingers.
Kate looked at Miss Fellows again. She remembered that name from the newspaper.
“I shall tell you a secret,” Lady Hathcock said, leaning into Kate. “Everyone expects that she will receive an offer from Lord Darlington. Yes, yes, I was rather shocked by that, too, as he’s never shown any inclination of doing the right thing by his title and settling down and producing an heir. But I’ve heard very recently that he will make an offer of marriage this Season. I’ve had it on very high authority.”
Kate’s heart slipped to her toes. She stared at Augusta Fellows. She was talking with great animation.
“It’s high time he did,” Lady Hathcock said. “Miss Fellows is a perfect match for Darlington. And she’ll bring him an additional five thousand pounds a year. What do you think of that?”
That her heart was breaking. That she couldn’t conceive of five thousand pounds in a lifetime, much less every year. “She’s very pretty,” she said.
“At the very least, you won’t have to suffer through any of the matchmaking, will you? No, it’s much easier to do what you are doing, Miss Bergeron, and you’ll be happier in the long run, I should think. Oh dear, there is Lord Turlington. He’s going to come over here and demand payment for that little bet we had. Do please have a pleasant evening! I hear the entertainment is divine!”
Lady Hathcock strode away. Kate glanced back to see Lord Turlington, but her gaze fell on Lady Eustis instead. She couldn’t have missed her, really, for she was standing not more than ten feet away, staring so intently at Kate that Kate blushed all the way to her roots. God in heaven, she’d be happy to be away from this!
She turned away from Lady Eustis and moved deeper into the crowd. But luck was not on Kate’s side this evening—as she sought to escape Lady Eustis, she came face to face with Grayson. He seemed as startled as she was when he glanced up and saw her making her way through the crowd.
Kate froze, her eyes locked with his. His dark gaze moved over her; she could see him swallow, could see him breathe deeply. “Kate—”
“Miss Bergeron! Please do come here!” Madame Renard cried. She put her hand on Kate’s arm, drawing her attention from Grayson for a moment. “You gave me quite a start! I can’t lose you in this crush—the entire pageant will be a disaster!” Madame Renard wrapped her hand around Kate’s wrist and tugged lightly. “Come, dear.”
Kate glanced back; Grayson was speaking with Miss Fellows and another woman. Miss Fellows was smiling so brightly, so hopefully. And Grayson was smiling at her.
Madame Renard tugged on her hand. “The performance shall begin in a half hour,” she said, pulling Kate along.
Kate followed dumbly, but her thoughts were on Grayson, her heart on the verge of crumbling. She glanced back once more, but he’d been swallowed up in the enormous crowd. Her poor heart continued to labor under the strain of seeing him, of longing for him; she couldn’t catch her breath as Madam Renard pulled her through the crowd.
It was an intolerably long evening, particularly after seeing Kate. Grayson had tried to find her after the surprise of seeing her in the crowd.
In that brief moment, he’d seen her eyes and he couldn’t rid his thoughts of them. They were full of a darkness he’d never seen in her before, and the depth of the darkness alarmed him. Kate looked so forlorn. He had to find her, talk to her, but the place was too crowded, and moreover, it seemed like everywhere he turned, he saw Diana.
Diana’s eyes were filled with contempt.
As Grayson searched for Kate, however, footmen began to filter through the crowd asking everyone to take their seats, as the pageant was about to begin. George was already seated at the head of the table in a thronelike chair with his inner circle around him. The sight of him disgusted Grayson.
He was moving away from the prince when he heard someone call his name. The voice was tinged with a slight accent. Grinning, Grayson turned to greet his old friend, Jack Haines, the Earl of Lambourne. Grayson had helped secure Jack’s release from the Tower, where he’d awaited what he’d thought would be his hanging. Fortunately for Lambourne, his freedom had come with the end of the Delicate Investigation and the king’s refusal to allow the prince to pursue a royal divorce.
Lambourne was smiling broadly, and on his arm, the pretty dark-haired Scottish lass Elizabeth Beal, who had captured the scoundrel’s heart.
“You look decidedly more relaxed, Lambourne.”
“It’s a bit easier to breathe when one is no’ concerned with the length of one’s neck, aye?”
Grayson laughed. “Miss Beal, I was certain you’d return to Scotland the moment you could.”
“I’d hoped for it, aye, Your Grace, but his lordship said I’d no’ lived properly until I’d seen the prince’s pageant.”
“I would suggest the opposite, Miss Beal. Your life has been unscathed until now,” Grayson said with a chuckle.
“Come sit with us, Christie,” Lambourne said. “We’ll need someone of your keen insight to explain it to us, aye?”
Grayson accepted their offer and the three of them found their seats very near the end of the U-shaped banquet table, and very close to the performance stage.
Grayson looked around for any sign of Kate but couldn’t find her. He did see Prudence and Robert sitting only a few seats away from the prince. On Prudence’s left was a sullen Diana. She was staring straight ahead, her mouth set in a thin line.
As for George, he was seated comfortably in his chair, laughing with one of his companions. A footman leaned over him to replenish his wineglass, and on his heels, another man leaned over and whispered in the prince’s ear. George sat up, ta
pped his knife against his wineglass, as did his companions. The audience hushed and settled into their seats. With a lazy flick of his wrist, George signaled the show to begin.
The musicians began; the first performers to emerge from the curtains of the temporary stage were young women who carried out their own maypoles. They wore costumes of flowing gossamer silk and danced around their poles, singing about the start of spring. Into their midst walked a young man with a paper crown on his head. He dipped and swayed toward each girl, taking flowers from them all, but never favoring a girl. Grayson imagined that young man was supposed to be George.
Behind the young man came a very large woman with a mole on the tip of a hideous nose. She carried a baby in her arms and kicked the young man from behind as they moved down the stage. She was clearly meant to be the Princess of Wales, and the audience howled with laughter.
When the maypoles and the Princess of Wales had danced off the stage, several more performers entered, representing the king and queen. The prince was caught between them, pushed and pulled in a strange dance. The king would pause occasionally to run in little circles, which Grayson supposed was meant to convey his madness. The queen would pause to wag a grotesquely big finger at the young prince, much like a mother would scold a son.
The self-indulgent pageant continued on, and Grayson quickly lost interest—until the curtains opened and the music changed. It slowed in tempo, that much he knew; and the dancer who appeared was wearing an elaborate mask. He recognized Kate’s shape and her gown instantly and sat up so quickly that he jostled Lambourne, who managed to catch his wineglass before it toppled.
Kate moved gracefully in her solitary dance, flitting through the sea of people in George’s life, going behind the queen and king, weaving in and out of his companions, and slowly making her way down the makeshift stage to the head of the table where George was seated.
The prince, like everyone in the audience, was riveted on Kate. When she reached the end of the stage she went down on her knees, removed her mask and let it drop from her hand, and bowed low before the prince like a servant. George smiled and nodded at her, at which point Kate stood and turned slowly in a circle so that the entire audience might see who the mysterious woman was.
A gasp went up from the audience. George had made his statement, had introduced his mistress to one and all.
Impotent anger surged through Grayson. His hand curved around the knife at his plate as Kate began her slow dance back to the curtain. She was pale and the darkness in her eyes had seemed to go even deeper.
As she neared the curtain, three men appeared. They were dressed in plain clothes, made to look like thieves or beggars. Kate instantly stopped moving. Her mouth dropped open. Grayson looked at the three men and noticed that while two of the men looked about them in awe, the one in the middle was looking at Kate. He looked familiar; Grayson sat up, peering closely.
Jude.
There could be no mistaking the resemblance between them, and Grayson knew that these men were not an official part of the performance. He jerked his gaze to George; his heart lurched when he saw Diana crouching beside the prince, whispering. He couldn’t conceive of what was happening, what Diana had done, but he knew it was bad, and stood abruptly.
“Christie, what are you about?” Lambourne hissed.
“I may be about to take your place in the Tower,” he said, and pushed back his chair and strode toward the end of the banquet table and the stage.
Kate was stunned to see Jude suddenly appear before her. Her heart climbed to her throat; she had to remind herself to breathe. “Jude,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “Dear God, it’s you!”
Jude scowled as he looked at her from head to foot.The crowd shifted around them; people began to call out and whisper excitedly. The music stopped. Everything stopped. And still, Kate could not take her eyes from her brother.
“It’s true, then,” Jude said. His voice was low and rough, the voice of a man, and not the voice of the boy that lived in her memory.
Kate moved toward him, reached for his arm, intent on leading him off the stage, but he jerked his arm from her reach. “How did you find me? How are you here?” she asked, trying to touch him again, to get him off that stage.
“Why’d you not find me?” he demanded angrily, brushing her off again. He looked wildly about the crowd.
“Jude—”
“You left me there, Katie! You left me to rot whilst you found a way, aye?” he said, gesturing to the opulent surroundings.
“No, no, that is not true, Jude. I have been looking for you since I lost you—”
“You didn’t lose me!” he scoffed. “You meant to leave me behind with Papa and Nellie! But you was all I had, Katie,” he said angrily.
“Jude, listen to me.” She was aware of the eyes on them, the movement around them. She could think of nothing but getting him off that stage. “Papa and Nellie moved,” she said quietly. “Just like that, one day you were all gone, and I had no way to find you. No one knew where you’d all gone. But I looked and looked for you, and I have, all these years. I could have left St. Katharine’s behind completely, but I didn’t, I kept going back, because I believed that one day, you would come back. And here you are! You cannot imagine how hard my heart is beating now to see you alive and well,” she said breathlessly, pressing her hand to her breast. “Come, come, let’s go outside.”
Jude looked at her hand. He frowned uncertainly, and Kate saw in his weathered face the boy she’d once known. He looked so angry and so overwhelmed at once. Kate surged forward and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.
The crowd broke into pandemonium.
“Who is this?” she heard the prince bellow. “How have these men come to be here? Put them out! Put them out at once!”
Jude grabbed Kate’s arms and pulled them from his neck. “I want me compresation, Katie,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Me blunt!”
“I have more than that,” she said frantically. “I have a place where we might live. We can be together again—”
“Get them out of here!” George bellowed. “Remove them at once!”
“One moment, Your Highness!”
Kate’s knees went weak at the sound of Grayson’s voice. He’d appeared on Kate’s right, was standing on that stage with his legs braced apart, scowling at the crowd. The audience suddenly began to move like a living, breathing thing, whispering and whistling, and some, who apparently had not as yet understood this was not part of the pageant, were even applauding.
“Let’s go from here, Jude!” Kate whispered pleadingly. “Come with me, and I will tell you everything you want to know. I’ve waited for you, I’ve searched for you, and there are people who will tell you this is true.”
“It is true,” Grayson said, and put his hand on Kate’s arm at the same moment he threw up a hand to stop the four guards who were leaping up on the stage. “Halt!” he snapped to them.
“And who the bloody hell are you?” Jude demanded. “Are you the prince, then? Do you keep me sister in all this … this finery?” he asked, gesturing wildly to Kate.
“I am not the prince, sir, but I assure you that your sister is telling you the truth. And I know she will do as she promises you now, for I will personally honor them.”
“Why would you do that, ye bloody scoundrel? So that you can use her ill?”
“No,” Grayson said, and shifted his dark blue gaze to her. “Because I intend to marry her. And it would be my duty and my pleasure as her husband to honor any vow she makes to you.”
Kate’s love and gratitude soared within her at the same moment the crowd exploded into chaos. She unthinkingly grabbed Grayson’s arm as people began to shout. The prince bellowed that he would see to it Darlington’s title was revoked, and Grayson loudly challenged him to do just that. He removed Kate’s hand from his arm and strode a few steps toward the prince. “Who are you to judge me?” he roared.
I
t was such a remarkable outburst that Kate jumped a little. People started to hiss for others to quiet and leaned forward, watching Grayson closely.
“I ask you again, who are you to judge me? Or her? Or him?” he called out, gesturing to Kate and Jude.
Kate turned to Jude and put her hand out, palm up. Jude looked at her hand, then took it in his.
“We are an intolerant people,” Grayson said to a stunned audience. “We would condemn this woman for her circumstances without regard for how she came to be there, or who she is. You will condemn me for standing up for her. Yet you will stand up for those who peddle human flesh in the slave trade! You will be indignant on behalf of those who would give a defenseless woman a roof over her head in exchange for pleasures of her flesh!”
The crowd gasped; a woman somewhere cried out.
‘This is outrageous!” the prince cried angrily. “You will be ruined, Darlington!”
“I don’t expect anyone to hear me, much less agree with me. But I will tell you all that I have come to respect and admire this woman,” he said, pointing at Kate. “She has helped me to see past the prejudices of our class, and if I can bring one tenth of the happiness to her life that she has brought to mine, I will gladly forfeit all!”
Now the crowd went wild, with cheers and jeers alike.
Jude squeezed Kate’s hand; she turned to look at her brother, but was suddenly jostled by Lady Beaumont, who threw her arms around Kate. “Welcome to the family. I hope you won’t mind, but we might be sent from England after this.”
Kate had no time to answer; a gentleman and woman suddenly crowded in next to her and Jude. “Take my coach,” the man said to Grayson. “But were I you, I’d take it now, ’ere the prince calls you out, lad.”
Several more people crowded in around them, forming a circle. Kate had no idea who they were, with the exception of Madame Renard and Lady Hathcock, who seemed to be enjoying the fracas.
The next thing she knew, they were moving. Grayson’s hand was firmly and possessively on her back, ushering her through, and she clung tightly to Jude. They pushed through the crowd with the few people who had stood up with them, making their way to the door. They were ushered into a carriage and as soon as the door shut and they were moving, Kate glanced out the window. People were spilling out onto the street after them, watching them go, gaping at them, shouting things she couldn’t understand.