“Even if that were true, his fidelity would hardly compensate for his other disadvantages. For one thing, there’s his awful mother.”
Katherine choked down a laugh. That was like Genghis Khan calling Attila the Hun cruel. “She was your friend once.”
“Yes, but that was before I eloped with your father. She never approved of him. And she positively hates that her husband chose to marry her only after I’d thrown him over. What she saw in Lovelace, I’ll never know. He was as dull as dishwater.” She shot Katherine an arch glance. “Just like his son.”
Katherine bristled. “I thought you liked Sydney.”
“Until I saw the other choices. After we came to town and he dragged us to salons and lectures, I viewed your union differently. What sort of life will you have with him? He has some cachet in society, I’ll grant you, because his family is so old and respected, but it’s nothing to what Lord Iversley will have.”
“I don’t care about society, Mama.”
“You’ll care when you’re trapped out in Cornwall at Sir Sydney’s estate, with his mother guiding your every activity.” Mama’s face took on a glow as she recited the holy mantra of every society matron scheming for her child. “But if you marry his lordship, only think of the parties and balls and routs you’ll be invited to—why, you might even rub elbows with the prince himself.”
“Yes, wouldn’t that be grand?” Katherine snapped.
“You can come to town every year for the season and give your sisters a real coming out—”
“Which would mean your coming to town with them.”
Her mother blinked, then dropped her gaze to her lap. “Of course.” She smoothed her skirts nervously. “That goes without saying. Besides, you’d want your mother here to help you with all your own balls and parties, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t intend to have any balls and parties.”
“Oh, but you must! It will be expected of the new Countess of Iversley.” Mama took up the mantra once more. “You’ll be called Lady Iversley.”
“If I marry Sydney, I’ll be called Lady Lovelace.”
Mama flipped her hand. “It’s not the same—that’s merely being a baronet’s wife. But a countess—” She gave a longing sigh. “And your sons will all be called ‘Lord,’ and your eldest will be the heir—”
“And I’ll be lonely because my husband spends all his time at his club, and brokenhearted because he keeps a mistress.”
“Lonely! In London? Don’t be absurd. Who could be lonely in London? As for being brokenhearted, there’s nothing to say you can’t… well… have friends of your own. After you bear the heir and a spare, of course.”
“Mama!” Katherine blushed to the roots of her hair. “I would never—”
“Oh, don’t be a ninny. You’ll be a fashionable woman then—you can do as you please.”
“If that’s being fashionable, I want none of it.” The picture her mother painted of her future life with Alec made her ill—it contrasted so sharply with the life she thought to have with Sydney. But if Sydney didn’t react to the news of Alec’s courtship by offering for her, what was she going to do?
Her mother rose stiffly, her face drawn in anger. “I see there’s no use talking to you—you don’t know a good thing when it’s dropped into your lap.”
Tossing back her head, she marched off to jerk the door open, then turned to glare at Katherine. “Go on and choose your baronet, then, and have a dull life. But I warn you: If you don’t accept an offer from either Sir Sydney or Lord Iversley in the next two weeks, the whole world will hear of the fortune you expect. Then you’ll have quite a choice of husbands, won’t you? Fortune hunters and schemers, for the most part. And I’ll turn a deaf ear to your protests, too. Because one way or the other, missy, you’re going to marry someone before the season is over.”
Chapter Twelve
Use gifts to soften the woman’s defenses.
—Anonymous, A Rake’s Rhetorick
A week later, as the well-sprung coach Alec had borrowed from Draker swept down the crowded London streets toward the Merivale town house, Alec admitted he’d made a serious tactical error. In letting Katherine continue to believe his interest in her was merely wicked, he’d put her further on her guard.
For some reason, the hothouse flowers he’d spent a pretty penny on only angered her. Weren’t women supposed to like flowers? The book of poetry he’d brought had been better received, until she noticed it was by some fellow named Byron, who apparently had a scandalous reputation. By God, who would have thought a book of poetry could be a problem?
At least she’d enjoyed the entertainments he took her and her mother to, but she’d spent them glued to Mrs. Merivale’s side. And she absolutely refused to go riding with him, saying there was no one to chaperone.
He snorted. She merely wanted to avoid being alone with him again. And neither Mrs. Merivale’s determined efforts to leave them alone together nor Alec’s similar attempts had worked—Katherine held tight to the strictest proprieties. He hadn’t even managed to hold her hand, much less sneak a kiss.
It drove him insane. He’d give anything for one stolen kiss from her sweet, artless mouth. And he would have it, too, if tonight went according to plan. He had to secure her soon. Matters at Edenmore were desperate—he couldn’t afford to remain in London much longer.
At least Sir Sydney was keeping away. But that could be bad, too—if Katherine decided the courtship ploy wasn’t working, she would refuse Alec and he’d have wasted days of effort.
Perhaps he should have chosen one of those simpering misses who would have welcomed his attention, accepted his guidance… and bored him to tears, in bed and out.
Blast it, that shouldn’t matter. Saving Edenmore should be his prime concern. But he craved Katherine like he craved wild rides across Edenmore’s clay hills. Being with her pleased him, talking to her stimulated him… touching her aroused him.
That mustn’t matter. His tenants and servants depended on him to set Edenmore to rights. So if his plan failed, if Katherine didn’t soften toward him tonight at Astley’s Royal Amphitheatre, he would make himself give her up and tell Byrne it hadn’t worked.
His plan had to work. She was only suspicious because of his evasions about why he’d remained abroad. As long as she believed it was a wastrel’s lack of interest in his estate, she’d never give him a chance. So he had to tell her some of the truth, even if it were threaded with a bit of… fabrication.
When he arrived at the Merivale’s rented town house, their manservant, Thomas, let him in. “Good evening, my lord. Mrs. Merivale is indisposed, and Miss Merivale is in the parlor with another gentleman. Would you prefer to wait here, or shall I announce you?”
A gentleman, eh? Only one gentleman would come here so late in the day—that blasted Lovelace. “I’ll announce myself, thank you. I know the way.”
Alec paused only long enough to relinquish his coat and hat before stalking off to the parlor, his temper rising with every step. Competing with that damned poet for her affections had really begun to pall. He couldn’t wait to make his real intentions clear tonight and put an end to Lovelace’s hold on her once and for all.
But the gentleman in the room wasn’t Lovelace. It was Gavin Byrne.
Katherine broke off midsentence. “Alec! I-I mean, Lord Iversley. You’re here.”
His gaze bored into Byrne. “Sorry to disturb you and your guest,” he said without contrition.
“No need to be concerned.” Byrne rose and bowed. “Miss Merivale and I have finished our business, so I’ll take my leave.”
“Business?” Alec said.
“This is Mr. Byrne,” Katherine said quickly. “He was a… er… associate of my father’s. He came to speak to Mama, but she was feeling unwell, so—”
“Miss Merivale was kind enough to meet with me,” Byrne finished.
“I see.” His eyes narrowed. What was his devious half brother up to? “I’m Iversley, a close frie
nd of the family. And one who hopes to be closer still, if I can talk Miss Merivale into accepting my suit.”
Byrne smiled broadly. “Well then, I see my visit was unnecessary. Good luck to you, my lord.” He bowed to Katherine. “Thank you for the tea, madam.”
As Byrne passed him, Alec told Katherine, “I’ll just make sure Mr. Byrne can find his way out.” Then he followed his half brother into the hall.
As soon as they were out of earshot of the parlor, Alec drew Byrne aside. “What in God’s name are you doing?”
Byrne shrugged. “Helping you. Before I go off to Bath for a week, I figured I’d visit Mrs. Merivale to remind her how urgent the situation is.”
“I don’t need your help,” Alec snapped, his pride pricked. “I can win Katherine on my own.”
“I have yet to see any announcement of an engagement in the paper, even though Sydney Lovelace seems to be relinquishing the field.”
Alec’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I hear he’s been a visitor at Napier’s estate in Kent all this week.”
A heady triumph swamped Alec. So Lovelace had retreated, had he? That settled everything. Alec would make Katherine marry him, no matter what it took. Though surely she wouldn’t fight him anymore when she realized he was her only chance for marriage.
“It’s up to you to marry the chit and get me my money.” Byrne rubbed his chin. “A pity she and her mother are so set on a respectable marriage, or I could marry her myself. I must admit that Miss Merivale is much lovelier than I’d realized.”
“Stay away from her,” Alec warned. “I’m the only man she’s marrying.”
Byrne’s laugh showed that he’d only wanted to annoy Alec. “I don’t know, Iversley—she didn’t talk like a woman on the verge of marriage.”
“She will after tonight.”
“Good luck. Miss Merivale strikes me as a woman not easily swayed.”
Alec gritted his teeth as his presumptuous ass of a half brother walked off with his self-assured gait. When he reentered the parlor, Katherine was pacing and frowning.
“Byrne wouldn’t say why he was here,” Alec lied, “so I trust that you will.”
She halted, her cheeks flushing. “It’s nothing to concern you.”
“The man isn’t respectable, so if he’s causing trouble for you—”
“You know him?”
He hesitated. He’d avoided outright lies until now. But matters were desperate. “I know of him. From what I’ve heard, your father would never have considered him an associate.”
Would she confide in him? Did she trust him even that much?
She sighed. “Mr. Byrne is one of Papa’s creditors.”
“One of?” His heart sank. If they married, would any of her fortune be left for Edenmore after he had paid her father’s debts?
She stiffened. “There are a few others, but we owe him the most by far.”
He relaxed. “How often does he come to demand his money?”
“This is only the second time that I know of.”
“Too often to suit me,” he growled.
“You mustn’t worry; he was a perfect gentleman. People only say awful things about him because of the circumstances of his birth.”
He went still. “You know about that?”
“That he’s the unacknowledged natural child of His Highness? I’ve heard the rumors, yes.”
He sucked in a breath. “Having such a man in your parlor doesn’t make you nervous?”
“Of course it does. The Prince of Wales is the most debauched man in England. If Mr. Byrne’s anything like him, he probably spends his time chasing after every woman he meets.”
He fought to contain his temper. “Then why did you meet with such a man alone? If your mother was too ill to talk to him, you should have told him to return another day.”
Katherine gave a bitter laugh. “Mama isn’t ill. She only said that so she wouldn’t have to deal with him.”
His temper exploded. “And instead, you would?”
“No!” She sighed. “But Mama thinks if she keeps refusing to see him, he’ll get tired and go away. Unfortunately, that only delays the inevitable. He’ll come again and again until he gets his money.”
“So you thought to talk him out of it? Convince him to forgive the debt?”
She tipped up her chin defensively. “Something like that.”
“Did it work?”
Her chin trembled. “Well… no, but he did agree to give us more time.”
“Time for you to get a wealthy husband,” he snapped.
She glanced away. “My marrying is the only solution to the problem.”
His temper flared once more. “It’s your mother’s problem, not yours. Why do you take the responsibility for your parents’ mistakes on your own shoulders?”
When she lifted her gaze to his, it was bright with tears. “Someone must.”
Blast it, how could Mrs. Merivale allow her daughter to meet with a man like Byrne, rather than deal with matters herself? “So you’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness to pay off debts you never asked for. To keep a frivolous woman like your mother from being bothered by the likes of Byrne.”
“I don’t do it for Mama—I do it for the rest of my family. If we can’t resolve our financial situation, my sisters will have to make advantageous marriages, which is unlikely, and my brother will inherit a ravaged estate. Besides, it’s no sacrifice to marry Sydney. I care about him, and he cares about me.”
He would end her little delusion once and for all. “I see how much he cares about you,” he said coolly. “You’re here dealing with your late father’s legacy, while he’s abandoned you to run off to his friend’s estate.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “What have you heard about Sydney?”
Though her stricken expression gave him pause, he pressed on. “Rumor has it he’s been at Napier’s estate in Kent for the past week.”
The tears shimmering in her eyes belied her overly brilliant smile. “You see? I told you this wouldn’t work. He doesn’t even care that we’re courting. We’re wasting our time with this faux courtship, Alec.”
“It’s not a faux courtship to me.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “It’s nice of you to say so, but we both know it is. And I’m all right, truly I am.” She squared her shoulders. “Let’s not discuss this anymore tonight. We’ll just enjoy ourselves for the last time. I’ll fetch Mama—”
“Not yet.” He snagged her arm as she started to walk past him. Time for another gift. If she didn’t like this one… “I brought you something.”
She faced him with an indulgent look. “More poetry by known rakehells?”
“No, not poetry.” Removing the velvet box from his pocket, he handed it to her.
“I see.” She still wore that cursed indulgent smile. “Jewels. How original.”
“Open it.”
“You know, my lord,” she said as she opened the box, “you’re wasting your money on me. I’m not some silly chit easily tempted by—” She broke off when she saw the contents. “Ohh… that’s so…”
“Original?” he prodded smugly.
Two spots of color stained her cheeks. “Now that you mention it… yes. It’s lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Taking it from her, he removed the black-and-gold brooch and set the box aside. “It’s damascene. I noticed that you prefer unusual jewelry.” He unclasped the pin, a horse of blackened steel galloping through an intricate forest worked in gold. “I bought it during a trip to Spain some years ago.”
She stiffened. “For some other woman. Did your paramour not like it or—”
“I bought it for my mother.”
“Oh,” she said in a small voice.
“I watched it being made in Toledo.” He slid his hand beneath the edge of her gown so he could affix the pin. “They lay gold wire in a grooved steel design. Then they fire the whole thing to blacken the exposed steel
before embossing the gold to enhance the design. When I saw the finished piece, I had to buy it.”
“What did your mother say when you gave it to her?”
“I never did. I didn’t want to send it through the post.”
Especially since the old earl would have confiscated it. “After I learned of her death sometime later, I kept it.”
She stayed his hand on her bodice. “I can’t accept this.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No… I-I mean, yes, I adore it, but something with such sentimental value should be kept for your wife.”
“I want you to have it, all right?” he growled, feeling helpless in the face of her determination to disbelieve him. “It suits you.” That much was certainly true.
When she looked as if she wavered, he added, “Besides, I doubt anyone else would show it the appreciation it deserves.”
With a hesitant smile, she dropped her hand. “It really is beautiful.”
“Especially on you.” He finished fastening it, then swept his hand up along the smooth, silky skin of her collarbone. “You’re like damascene, you know—steel and gold entwined, strength softened by beauty.”
“I-I’m no beauty,” she said in a breathless whisper as he caressed the skin of her lovely neck, pressing his finger to the pulse that beat so frantically there.
“If I were a poet, I could tell you in pretty words how much I want you for my wife, and you might believe me.” He curved his fingers behind her neck. “But I can only show you.” Then he pulled her close for the kiss he’d craved for days.
For a moment, her mouth was pliant and responsive beneath his. Then she stiffened and pushed him away, a fiery blush staining her cheeks. “You aren’t supposed to kiss me.”
“I can’t help what I want, Katherine. It has nothing to do with my breaking rules, or your blasted Sydney, or your fears about my character. I want to marry you, and you can’t change that.”
He kissed her fiercely this time, demanding her response. And after a second’s hesitation she gave it, parting her lips to let him in.
By God, her mouth was everything he remembered and more, soft and eager and warm. He kissed her deeply, seeking proof that she still wanted him, too.
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