Chase Family Collection: Limited Christmas Edition

by Lauren Royal

  Kit stepped closer and lifted her chin so he could meet her big blue eyes. “Do you swear?” When she nodded fiercely, he turned back to Washburn. “You hired someone to do it for you, then.”

  “I’m not an arsonist, Martyn.”

  “No, just a liar and a thief.” Kit’s breath was still coming hard, but damn if he wasn’t beginning to believe the bastard. The serving maid seemed too honest, and Washburn seemed too shocked.

  Without another word, Kit turned on a heel and headed for the stairs, gripping the piece of brick in his pocket as he fought to regain his composure. Though Washburn might be innocent, he felt no need to apologize. Perhaps Shakespeare would have summoned fine words, but Kit couldn’t—and to his mind, the man didn’t deserve them anyway.

  Thirty-Seven

  THE NEXT DAY, Rose answered the door herself, all but dragging Kit into the town house without so much as a good morning. “I need to talk to you.”

  He grinned as she pulled him toward the drawing room. “Missed me, did you?”

  “No,” she said, although in truth she’d missed him entirely too much. She shut the door behind them and waved him toward a blue brocade chair. “Sit, please.”

  “Sit? Then you didn’t drag me in here for a kiss?” Lowering himself, he steepled his fingers and rested his elbows on the chair’s arms, looking nauseatingly good in his simple dark blue suit. “It isn’t like you not to be looking for a kiss.”

  She gazed at him, wondering how to break this to him gently while half wishing he were an ugly harebrained hayseed with no talent at all for kissing.

  Of course she wanted a kiss.

  “No, I’m not looking for a kiss.” His sister was more important than kisses. “This is serious, Kit. You must let Ellen wed Thomas. She loves him, and—”

  “I’ve told Ellen time and again that I won’t see her wed to a pawnbroker.” The good humor leaving his face, he unsteepled his fingers and crossed his arms instead. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Something else had changed instead. But Rose hoped to persuade him without revealing Ellen’s secret. That would not only be easier for Ellen, but also for him as well.

  “Thomas isn’t only a pawnbroker,” she said carefully. “He’s also a man—the man your sister loves. You’re judging him the way you complain people judge you.”

  He raised a brow. “The way you judge me?”

  “We’re talking about Ellen.” She wouldn’t let him turn this around. “Ellen really and truly loves Thomas. Why should it matter what the man does for a living? He’s a good man, Kit. Don’t you want your sister to be happy?”

  He remained quiet for a moment, just gazing at her. As the silence stretched, she thought maybe she’d succeeded in persuading him.

  Until he finally spoke. “What happened,” he asked slowly, “to your conviction that it’s as easy to fall in love with a titled man as one without?” He rose and slid off his surcoat, tossing it over the arm of the chair. “If those words no longer apply to Ellen, can I assume they no longer apply to you, too?”

  She backed up. “No. Of course they still apply. But in Ellen’s case—”

  “Why should Ellen be different?” Kit advanced, taking perverse pleasure in watching Rose retreat. He’d caught her—twice—insisting Ellen should marry for love, and this time he wasn’t going to let her get away with claiming it shouldn’t work the same way for her.

  “Ellen isn’t different.” She backed into a marquetry desk and placed her hands behind her for support. “But Ellen has already fallen in love.” She lifted her chin. “She never had a chance to fall in love with a titled man first.”

  He brought his face to within an inch of hers. “Who will you fall in love with first, sweetheart?”

  Though he was too close to see it, he heard her nervous swallow. “We’re talking about Ellen.”

  “Not anymore.” He bent his head, angled his mouth. Her warm, sweet breath teased his lips.

  Her eyes closed, and a little mewing sound rose up from her throat. Blindly she raised her hands and rested them on his chest. They seemed to burn through the thin cambric of his shirt.

  Then she pushed him away, her eyes popping open. “Kit! Listen to me. You must let Ellen wed Thomas—she’s carrying his child.”

  He stumbled back, not from the force of her shove, but from the impact of her words.

  His baby sister was having a baby?

  Unable to wrap his mind around that fact, he fell back onto the chair.

  “Good God,” Rose said, putting her hands to her cheeks and looking entirely unRoselike. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you like that. It must be a terrible shock.”

  “You could say that.” He rubbed his face. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  She sat in the chair next to his and angled to face him. “She said she couldn’t. That she couldn’t bear to see the look on your face. Your disappointment.” She put a hand on his. “She loves you.”

  “She says she loves Whittingham.”

  “Him, too.” Apprehension flooded her eyes. He watched her swallow hard. “Kit, I think you should know…”

  “What?” he asked. Whatever it was couldn’t be worse than what he’d already learned.

  “Well, rather than disappoint you, she tried to rid herself of the child.”

  He couldn’t have heard right. “She what?”

  “She took pennyroyal, hoping to bring on her courses. I caught her in time, in the act, and made her bring it back up. Can’t you see that this changes everything? What you wanted for your sister doesn’t matter anymore. Her fate is out of your hands.”

  The second half of what she’d said had been lost on him, so appalled was he by the first. “Pennyroyal?” he echoed.

  “A midwife told her pennyroyal tea can stimulate the menses. But she used one of my mother’s essential oils. They’re a hundred times or more stronger than the herbs—it was likely to take her life along with the child’s.”

  His heart hammering, Kit came halfway off the chair.

  She leapt from hers and pushed him back down, looking desperate. “Good God, I said it all wrong again.” Her hands on his shoulders, her dark eyes held his captive. “The doctor said she’s well, and she wasn’t aware of the risks, Kit. I’m certain of it. She thought it would be just like the tea.”

  Did he know his sister at all? “Does she not trust me even a little?” That hurt. “That she would do this rather than disappoint me?”

  “She wasn’t thinking of it that way. She wasn’t thinking at all.”

  “Even so, how could she? How could she kill her child?”

  Rose winced. “Please don’t judge her so harshly. She’s hurting and confused. Women rid themselves of unwanted children all the time, for all sorts of reasons.”

  “Ellen has no good reason.” His heart was finally slowing. Apparently the danger had passed. “How could she not know I would love her child? This is my sister and my niece or nephew.”

  “I know,” she said softly.

  Guilt was a vise squeezing his chest. He’d almost lost his sister, his only family. The one person he’d vowed to protect at all costs.

  If it hadn’t been for Rose…

  She’d saved his sister. Because she was good, because she was caring, because there was a heroic person hiding inside this exasperating woman who insisted she wanted a duke.

  His throat tightened, and something twisted around his heart—an unwelcome thrill laced with a flicker of fear. He reached to gather her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and buried his nose in her rose-scented hair.

  “Thank you,” he whispered, afraid he’d just fallen in love.

  Lust was one thing, love quite another. It scared him to death. He’d wanted her before, yes. Wanted her for her beauty, her refreshing forthright nature, her family’s position in society, her intelligence, her sheer suitability as a wife. And, of course, because she’d made him hotter than the sun in August from the first time he’d laid eyes
on her.

  But suddenly he wanted her in an entirely different way. The want had turned into need.

  He’d been determined to make her fall in love with him, but he hadn’t expected to fall himself. What would he do now if she wouldn’t agree to be his?

  Feeling his throat tighten more, he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

  “You must let them marry,” she said quietly. “If you have even a glimmer of an idea what they feel for each other, you cannot deny them.”

  He had a glimmer, all right. A sudden new glimmer that was frightening as hell. And he loved his sister, and—already—her unborn child. Rose was right: everything had changed, and he hadn’t the will left to deny Ellen and her baby loves of their own.

  As long as he could make sure Thomas Whittingham loved them back.

  He motioned to the marquetry desk. “Is there paper and quill in there?”

  “Yes.” Rose slanted him a look. “Why?”

  “I wish to write a letter.”

  Her expression made clear she didn’t consider that much of an answer.

  “Trust me,” he added. “And fetch Ellen, please.”

  Thirty-Eight

  KIT’S SISTER looked pale, wan, and frightened when she walked in.

  He silently handed her his hastily scribbled missive. As she scanned the single page, her eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped her lips.

  “What is it?” Rose asked.

  “A letter to Thomas.” Ellen looked up at Kit. “You’re…you’re allowing our marriage?”

  “Demanding it,” Kit corrected. “On one condition.”

  She swallowed hard, clutching the paper against her middle. “What?”

  His gaze flicked down, but there was no sign of her pregnancy. It was too early, he supposed. He might suspect her of fibbing to get her way, but he seriously doubted she’d have risked poisoning herself if she wasn’t actually with child.

  “Why?” he asked suddenly. “Why did you try to rid yourself of it?”

  Her eyes filled. “I don’t know. I think…I was confused.” She brought her other hand to cover the first. “It seemed as though this child growing inside me had stolen my options—that I needed more time to persuade you, and I feared your wrath, and—” She stared at the floor. “It was wrong, wasn’t it? Very, very wrong.”

  “Yes.” Watching a teardrop fall to the polished wood, Kit stepped forward to wrap her in his arms. “I’m so glad you’re all right.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sniffed against his chest.

  “Don’t you know how much I love you?”

  Her arms tightened around him as she raised her tearstained face. “I guess I forgot. I thought only about how angry you’d have been if you’d known.”

  “Had I known, Ellen, I might have been disappointed—I am disappointed—but I wouldn’t have kept you from wedding your child’s father. And I won’t. What’s done is done. I wanted more for you, but you’ve narrowed my options. Unless—”

  “What?” She pulled away. “What is this condition?”

  He met her gaze, hardening his heart against the tears. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He turned to Rose. “Can you send a rider to Windsor to deliver this letter to Whittingham? And an extra horse so they can both ride back. I left my carriage at Whitehall, and it’s too slow in any case.”

  She looked between him and his sister. “Of course.”

  “Good,” he said to her, and to Ellen, “I will see you wed today.”

  Both women stared at him incredulously. Rose spoke for the two. “They cannot marry today!”

  “Tonight, then. However long it takes Whittingham to show up, we’ll wait.”

  “Banns must be called—it will take weeks. Either that, or Thomas will have to obtain a special license from the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

  “Have you never heard of a privileged church? There are two, I believe, directly outside the City walls. Places where a man and a woman can marry without posting banns, without a license. Without waiting.”

  “That doesn’t sound legal,” Rose said doubtfully.

  “They claim they’re outside the jurisdiction of the Bishop of London and can therefore make their own rules.” He shrugged. “The marriages stand, and that’s good enough for me. I wish I could remember at least one of their names…ah, yes. St. Trinity, in the Minories.” He turned to his sister. “I was hoping to see you wed in a cathedral, but a privileged church will have to do.”

  Thirty-Nine

  FOLLOWING A BIT of wrangling, it was decided Kit would go ahead to St. Trinity and arrange matters while Rose and his sister waited for Whittingham. They would all meet Kit at the church.

  It took an hour for him to reach St. Trinity—an hour during which he cursed himself ten times over for not watching more closely over his sister. For not protecting her better. For allowing her to maneuver him to the point where he had no choice.

  But there was nothing left to do except make the best of it. If Whittingham could prove he truly loved Ellen, the man could have her. And Kit would make sure the two of them had a wonderful, carefree life together.

  Or rather, his eleven thousand pounds would.

  But he wouldn’t tell them that now. Either of them. His sister had said over and over that she wanted to marry for love—and marry for love she would.

  Kit arrived to find St. Trinity in surprisingly good repair for such an old building. The walls and columns were freshly painted, costly leaded glass filled the windows, and votive candles flickered around the sanctuary.

  A privileged church was quite obviously a lucrative business.

  He stood in the back, watching a wedding in progress. Several more couples seemed to be waiting their turns. One bride was well gone with child, another quietly weeping. A third wedding party included a man who didn’t look much happier. If Kit didn’t miss his guess, the bride’s father was surreptitiously holding a pistol on the poor fellow.

  The minute the current wedding concluded, Kit barged down the aisle.

  The priest looked up and frowned. “You’re not next.”

  “I’m not marrying at all. But my sister will be here later today, and I wish to make certain you’ll stay to perform the ceremony no matter how late she arrives.”

  The man shook his balding head. “I’ve too many weddings this day already. She’ll have to come tomorrow. Or go to St. James instead.”

  Ellen and her groom weren’t going to St. James—they were coming here. “What is your customary charge?” Kit asked flatly.

  The plump clergyman sized him up. “Six crowns.”

  Gasps from behind told Kit the quote was high, perhaps by double or more. “I’ll pay you ten,” he told the man. “And half of that now.” He fished his pouch from his surcoat and began counting out coins. “I’ll expect her to be wed the moment she appears.”

  “By all means, good sir,” the priest said, licking his fleshy lips. When he took the gold and hefted its weight in a hand, a wide smile emerged, revealing large, uneven teeth. “Bring two witnesses, and—since you seem to value speed—a pistol,” he added with a wink.

  Despite himself, Kit laughed. “We’ve no need of a pistol—I’m the only party reluctant to this match.”

  Hours later, Kit was waiting on the church’s steps when the Ashcrofts’ carriage pulled up. His sister stepped to the cobblestones, followed by Rose, who was carrying a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t surprised when Lady Trentingham emerged next, although he hadn’t expressly invited her.

  Finally, Whittingham stepped down, dressed in a green wool suit that was ten or more years out of fashion. His brown hair was tied back in a neat queue. Somehow he managed to look both pleased and scared spitless.

  Kit was happy to see that. Perhaps the man cared, after all.

  Ellen marched up the steps and dragged Kit inside the church. Her gaze swept the sanctuary before swinging to fasten on him. “What the devil have you planned here?” she whispered fiercely.

  “Such la
nguage in a house of God,” he chided. She’d changed into a gown that he imagined must belong to Rose, a confection of pale green satin with silver embroidery. It didn’t suit Rose’s high coloring at all, but it looked perfect on his sister. The hue brought out the green in her eyes—or maybe they looked green because she was angry.

  Well, she was about to get angrier.

  “I’m going to ask Whittingham if he’ll take you without your dowry,” he informed her in an even tone. “And if he hesitates as much as a moment—one moment, Ellen—the wedding is off.”

  “That’s so unfair!” she burst out.

  Heads turned. “Hush!” he cautioned.

  She moderated her voice, but not her demeanor. “You’d have me raise this child alone?”

  “Not alone. With me. Your child will never see an unhappy day if I can help it—you’ve nothing to fear. Should Whittingham love you, I wish you the best. But if not…well, then you’ll be better off in my care than bound to a man who wanted you only for your money.”

  She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes, and shut her mouth decisively. Remembering her words when he’d talked of withholding her dowry—I will never speak to you again—he figured she was following through on her threat.

  That wouldn’t last. A woman carrying a child couldn’t afford to act like one.

  “I’ve paid good money to see you wed quickly.” He put a hand on her arm, then frowned when she shoved it off. “Let’s adjourn outside and see this thing through.”

  Forty

  ROSE WATCHED brother and sister emerge from St. Trinity, Kit looking determined, Ellen furious. She wondered what had been said during their short time inside.

  Thomas stepped forward. “Ellen has informed me you’re putting a condition on our marriage,” he said, looking directly at Kit.

  He was a direct sort of man. Rose had come to know him a little better on the ride from the town house to the church, and she believed he would make a good husband for her friend.