by Sahara Kelly
Max snorted. “I couldn’t care less about such things, Kitty. You know that.”
“Yes, I do. And it means nothing to me either.” She looked around at a room filled with people she didn’t know. “But one thing, Max, we should go to Ridlington soon. I don’t want my family thinking I’ve shut them out of my life…” She glanced up at him.
He nodded. “Yes. Very soon, love. That is on my list.”
“Thank you.” She breathed a little easier. “Oh look. Is that Lady Weston? Over by the bookcase. Yellow hair…” Although the word ‘yellow’ could best be applied loosely, realized Kitty. It was a great deal more brassy than one might expect of human hair.
“Yes, that’s her.” Max led them that way, into an area that was less well-populated.
Lady Weston was apparently concluding a disagreement with another lady, who spun on her heel and walked off with an angry expression her face.
“Stupid cat,” said Lady Weston under her breath. “Hullo Max.” She looked at Kitty. “This is the one you bedded and wedded, is it?” She smirked. “Supposed to do it t’other way around, you cad.” She nudged him with what looked like a sharp elbow.
Seeing a look of impending displeasure on her new husband’s face, Kitty stepped in. “I am indeed the one, Lady Weston. We’ve met once before I believe, and have a shared sadness today.” She managed to look suitably saddened. “The loss of Mr. Miller-James is a terribly tragedy. Both Max and I would like to extend our sincere sympathies.”
Lady Weston’s expression changed. “I miss him.” The words were hushed and spoken with what seemed to Kitty like a very real emotion. “He was…he was a special man.”
“So I’ve heard,” said Max. “I knew him, of course, clubs and so on. But I am sorry to say I did not know him as well as I should have.”
“Damned carriages,” she muttered. “Damned bloody carriages.”
Kitty made a snap decision. “Come, Ma’am, let’s sit over here for a bit. It’s quiet and you can compose yourself. Such times are hard, and keeping them private can be even harder.”
Grateful for the suggestion, Lady Weston willingly sat on a sofa in the corner of the room, well away from the circulating guests. The music had started once more, so the sound of their conversation would be lost against the background noise of the ball.
“He was interested in carriages, you know,” began Lady Weston.
“Was he? How fascinating…” Kitty encouraged, feeling Max’s hand warm on her shoulder.
“Yes,” nodded the other woman. “He’d inherited a business, believe it or not. A carriage business…” A small sob shook her.
Kitty rested a hand on Lady Weston’s arm. “Tell me. Was he a good businessman? It seems unusual for a gentleman of his standing to go into trade…”
“Oh he didn’t.” The comment was immediate. “He was the first to say he knew nothing about running the company. ‘Got a good manager, Dorothea,’ he used to say. ‘Man knows what he’s doing.’”
“Ahh, so that’s the secret,” smiled Kitty gently.
“Well that, and make sure your competition doesn’t get ahead,” Lady Weston added. “Dancey always made sure that didn’t happen. I’m not sure how, of course, but I do know it wasn’t long before the other company fell behind.”
“Goodness, I wonder how that happened?” Kitty managed an innocent blink.
“I don’t know.” She frowned. “Occasionally he’d go off with some people that certainly weren’t members of Society, if you know what I mean.”
“You think they might have been helping him, Dorothea?” Max leaned over the sofa.
“If they were, they were up to no good. I’m not seventeen, you know. Dancey never realized that.” She pursed her lips. “I’d never say anything, of course, but now he’s gone…well I would not be surprised to learn those men had done something to the other carriages.”
“Really. Oh, my.” Kitty slumped. “I’m sure Mr. Miller-James couldn’t have countenanced anything bad…”
Lady Weston shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t care much about any of it. But since he was killed…well, one wonders.” She turned to Max. “And in your carriage, too. Such a surprise. I can’t believe Dancey would do anything to one of his own and he was thrilled you’d bought one.”
“Oh…” Kitty was about to speak, but Max shook his head.
“He knew about my carriage?”
“Well it was the design, you see. He pointed it out one day. Said the lines were identical, and although he’d not seen that use of color, he could tell it was one of his company’s. He was so delighted.”
“I’m sure he was.” Max’s voice was expressionless. “So he never mentioned anything about the other carriage company experiencing accidents?”
The yellow hairdo shook as Lady Weston turned rapidly to frown at Max. “No. Nothing. What are you saying? What accidents?”
“Never mind, Lady Weston. Or may I call you Dorothea?” Kitty patted her hand. “We’re just hoping nobody else is hurt or worse. Losing a bright and wonderful man like your Dancey…well, I am sure you understand.”
Lady Weston’s eyes narrowed. “Your sister was with him, wasn’t she.” It was not a question.
“Yes, she was.”
“And she’s alive. My Dancey’s gone, but that bitch is still alive.” The sad woman vanished and an angry lover replaced her. “There’s something very wrong there. He didn’t care for her at all, you know. No matter what she says. He was mine. All mine. He promised me…”
“Of course, Dorothea, of course.” Max came around and sat beside her, taking her hand, soothing her, while Kitty made good her escape to a more distant chair. “Nobody could imagine otherwise. We believe Dancey was probably escorting Hecate either back to Lady Allington’s, or to another event that evening. No more than that…”
“Oh. Well then…” She subsided a little, burrowing in her reticule for her handkerchief. “Forgive me. I am overset.”
“Of course. We completely understand.” He picked up her hand and kissed it, a little longer than necessary. “I am astounded at your strength, dear lady. It is matched only by your beauty. How lucky Dancey was, and how lucky some other gentleman will be. I am convinced of it.”
She managed a weak smile through her tears. “You are very kind, Max.”
“We will leave you to compose yourself. I am sure we’ll meet again before long.”
“Thank you.” She nodded, a smile for him, and a less than affectionate tilt of the head for Kitty.
“That was puzzling,” murmured Kitty as she and Max walked back toward the dancing. “But it would seem the accidents were indeed done on purpose. And possibly at Miller-James’s bidding. What an awful man he was.”
“Yes. Perry said it best. Vermin.”
“Most apt.” Kitty’s breath left her as Max whisked her through a door and into what looked like a large closet. “Max…mmmpf….”
His lips were on hers, his arms around her, and he kissed the dickens out of her before she could catch a breath. “I have been aching to do that for quite some time. You were brilliant with that woman, my sweet. I really do have an amazing wife.” He grinned from ear to ear and then kissed her once more, forcefully, preventing her from doing more than moan as his tongue met hers.
Her arms went up around his neck as his hands bunched her skirts and raised them, allowing his fingers to seek and find her sex. Heat swept over her, followed by the sensual chills of her arousal. She thrust herself into his hand without even realizing it.
“God, Max. We’re in a cupboard, for heaven’s sake…” She moaned again as he found his way to the exact spot that always drove her wild. “Oh…sweet lord…”
He drove her up and over without pity, drawing her release from her as easily as he had kissed her, breathing in her cries and holding her upright. It might have been the excitement of the day, or the erotic nature of their location, but Kitty’s orgasm exploded rapidly and rocked her from her upswept hair to her elegant slippers.
All from the touch of his hand.
She sagged against him, breathing hard, amazed at what they had just done. “God. Just…oh, hell.”
“Well that covers the religious portion of the evening.”
She poked him with her fingers. “If you’re going to make me feel foolish…”
“On the contrary, love. I want you thinking about this moment until we get home tonight. Because it was just the first course…”
She groaned and straightened her gown. “I might not survive to try dessert.”
“You will. I’ll make sure of it.”
*~~*~~*
He waited patiently outside the ladies’ withdrawing room, while Kitty tidied herself.
He hoped he wasn’t smiling too much, but the thought of what they’d just done, and where, was amusing, to say the least. He was hard, of course. He was always hard around Kitty, but he could wait. Tonight was for them as a married couple.
Unfortunately, he sensed that Kitty would want to talk about their future as well, which—since he hadn’t got that far with his plan yet—was a bit vague. His mind turned to the matter of Dancey Miller-James. Why would he think that Max had one of his carriages? Were they that similar?
In truth, Max would have been hard pressed to identify the manufacturer of any particular carriage, but then again, it wasn’t his business. Nor was it Dancey’s, although the man liked to dabble in it, was as competitive as they come, and didn’t worry about things like morals or ethics when it came to business practices.
No, he had been convinced Max owned a Kanehall carriage. And that assumption suddenly led Max to an almost unthinkable notion.
“Come on,” he said to Kitty as soon as she appeared in the hallway. “We have a stop to make.”
They were given their cloaks and handed into the coach before Kitty had chance to say more than “What?” but once they were seated and on their way, she let loose. “Max, you do realize we have just insulted the Chorleys. We left before dinner, too. A bit much, don’t you think?”
He waved her protest away. “The Chorleys, and by that I mean Lady Chorley, will be quite pleased with us, I have no doubt.”
She clutched his arm. “The Prince Regent…” Horrified, she stared at him. “If he arrived and we left…”
“I don’t believe he’s attending this evening.” Max looked uninterested.
“But…” Kitty struggled with her words. “But Max, you said…”
“We’re here.”
She looked out the window and saw a grand house lit up to the roof, with carriages everywhere. “And that would be where?”
“Back where it all began. Steenmere House, and the evening of the DuClos masquerade.”
Sure enough, Kitty recognized some of the statuary. “What on earth are we doing here?” The coach moved slowly, in stops and starts.
“I’m going to ask you to wait here for a minute or two, Kitty. There’s someone I’d like to find, and if I can do it quickly, so much the better. All right?” He glanced at her. “Trust me.”
“Of course.” Her answer was immediate.
“Good girl.” He dropped a quick kiss on her lips and then opened the door of the coach, waiting until it stopped once more. Then he jumped down, with a brief word to the driver.
Kitty leaned over and pulled the door shut, tugging a blanket around her and trying not to worry.
She was tired, she knew. Getting married unexpectedly, going to a ball, questioning a bereft lover and now getting a mystery ride in a coach…well it was all a bit wearing. Leaning back against the soft squabs, she closed her eyes for a few moments.
Not one for introspection, she found it hard to ask herself the important questions she knew she must answer. Was her marriage a fake? A convenience to get them into one of the biggest balls of the Season? But if so, why had Max gone to such trouble to set it all up?
She looked back to the first time she’d met him. Cold, distant, eyes like icicles looking her over. He’d been oppressively superior, in her opinion, and had raised her hackles at their first encounter.
But was it her hackles, or might it have been something else?
She’d become aware of him so quickly, knowing when he walked into a room, or was heading her way at a ball. Certainly he was tall, and that made him more noticeable, but what she experienced was on a different level. It was a certain sensation, inside her, that lit up when Max was around.
Maybe, just maybe, it was the awakening of desire.
Or maybe, again just maybe, it was the awakening of an even deeper passion. One she dared not name, lest it vanish. One she wasn’t even sure she believed in.
Looking ahead, she tried to imagine her life without Max. Going back to Ridlington, perhaps and doing…what? There was little there for her. Family of course, but they had their own lives to live now. Edmund and Rosaline with baby Hugh, Simon and Tabby setting up at the Vicarage, and Letitia at FitzArden Hall.
Getting together with them all was a joy. But living with them? She would be the odd penny. Hecate…well, she was well cared for. What lay ahead for her was anyone’s guess.
No, Kitty realized that if she had her preference, she would remain Mrs. Seton-Mowbray.
Forever.
Because, she admitted to herself, she could not imagine letting another man as close to her as Max had become. He’d broached her carefully created defenses, spanked her bottom and made her scream his name in her ecstasy. He’d insinuated himself into her life and become a part of it, even recreating her life for her so they would both fit nicely together.
He’d done an excellent job.
So excellent in fact, she was now afraid the impossible might have happened.
She’d fallen head over heels in love with Max Seton-Mowbray.
Chapter Twenty-Six
It had taken him nearly an hour, but he’d found out what he wanted. He’d finally solved the mystery of what had happened to his carriage that fateful night.
He hoped Kitty was all right—he hadn’t expected to be gone that long. But she and the coach were surrounded by other coaches, and at this point, after the loss of Dancey Miller-James, many people had added a footmen or two to their retinue. He doubted there would be any risk, other than to her temper.
But even that was negated, since when he quietly opened the door, it was to find his new wife sound asleep.
He slid in beside her, tapped gently on the roof and took her in his arms as they swayed into motion. She stirred enough to snuggle into him, then sank back into sleep.
Oddly enough, he was quite happy with that. Yes, he had news, and yes he was looking forward to telling her what he had learned. But for now, the sensation of travelling back home to Mowbray House with his new wife in his arms…well it surpassed anything he had experienced up to now. He’d never expected anything like this. Never thought about having, or wanting, anything like this. His life had simply never included the matter of his own family, or producing an heir, or any of the other more customary goals. No, he had single-mindedly pursued his business interests, with the aim of enlarging them in a sensible and solid fashion, and spent his leisure time on the occasional trip into London, and more often a visit to one of the many dungeons catering to his particular sensual tastes.
He’d found he had to choose those carefully, since he disliked brutality or cruelty of any kind. He liked dominating a woman, but not abusing her. He liked controlling her body, and her mind, but not destroying her ability to think or act, or punishing her if she did so.
His preferences were not for the cane or the whip; nor did he want to see welts or blood.
To him, those were best left to whoever would accept such treatment, and to those who had no compunction about delivering it.
In Kitty, the woman sleeping so soundly in his arms, he had found the best of everything. And she’d erupted into his life so recently, it seemed all but impossible…but there it was. And there she was.
He knew she would please him in bed, and his ple
asure had been multiplied by her responses to his actions. And yet she was not of a submissive character at all. On the contrary, she would stand up for herself if necessary, without a second thought. She had spent so much of her life tucked away in the country, which might have explained her intelligence. All those years reading…she had acquired a brain that worked rapidly and efficiently. Debating and discussing matters with her would always be a delight.
She was, he decided, the only woman he could possibly have considered marrying. If he’d asked her yesterday evening, he knew she most likely would have said either a definitive no, or that it was too soon. Both of which would have been valid answers, and both of which he knew he could not have tolerated.
So now he had one last task ahead. To bind this woman to him so tightly she would never leave. To make sure she understood that she was his, and their marriage was real.
That, he decided, was what really mattered. Everything else was mere detail.
They rolled smoothly to a halt in front of Mowbray House, and Max gave Kitty a gentle shake. “Time to wake up, my dear. We’re home.”
She stirred, yawned, smiled sleepily at him and eased herself upright. “I am sorry. I fell asleep waiting for you.”
“I know. It’s all right.” He stepped down from the coach and turned back, putting his hands at her waist and swinging her bodily out and onto the ground. “Let’s go in. It’s late and I’m tired.”
She nodded. “Me too.”
Before she could say another word, he lifted her once more, this time in his arms, and carried her up the steps and into Mowbray House. Deery, who was waiting inside, looked alarmed. “Sir? Miss Ridlington?”
Max grinned. “You may welcome your new mistress, Deery. This is no longer Miss Ridlington. I’m proud to say she’s now Mrs. Seton-Mowbray.”
Deery, to give him credit, did not faint. He did look stunned for all of three seconds, and then a smile began to curve his lips, soon becoming a full-blown expression of joy. “Sir. Madam. I’m—I’ve no idea of what to say, except for congratulations. And best wishes. Oh my goodness. The staff will be thrilled indeed.” He looked at Kitty, sitting comfortably against Max’s chest, with her legs over his arms. “Welcome, Mrs. Max. Welcome home.”