The crowd was growing larger and larger.
Lord Cranberry straightened his shoulders too. He hefted his girth as if he were trying to suck it in. “Seems you would have learned your lesson, Medford. Harboring her. I’m surprised Lady Catherine let you in the door tonight. She’s clearly not attending to her guest list properly.”
James’s voice was a low growl. “What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Only that you keep company like that and you get what you deserve,” Lady Cranberry retorted, her nose in the air. “Everyone knows your town house was destroyed because you were harboring that rubbish.”
James’s voice thundered loudly enough for the entire assembled crowd to hear. His feet were braced apart and he shook with unleashed fury. “Know this. The dowager Duchess of Markingham is better than either one of you will ever be. She’s a kind, generous, loving person who was falsely accused and who has since been exonerated.”
Lord Cranberry’s face turned cranberry, and it did not go well with peach. He tugged at his lapels. “She may have been exonerated but that doesn’t prove—”
“Yes. It. Does. You small-minded twit,” James replied. “And if I ever hear you breathe another unkind word about her, you’ll have me to answer to. Do you understand?”
Lord and Lady Cranberry huffed and puffed. They searched around as if looking for friendly faces in the crowd to agree with them. Everyone else seemed suddenly preoccupied with their conversations, as if they hadn’t all just been staring aghast at Medford’s confrontation with the couple.
James turned to the assembled group, his glass of brandy sloshing over his hand. “Does everyone hear that? The same goes for all of you. Anyone who utters a word against the duchess will answer to me.”
Complete silence.
James stalked off then. Pushing through the crowd, he made his way out of the ballroom. The mass of people erupted in a sea of whispers and speculation. The entire ballroom, it seemed, was talking about him. And her. Oh, he’d really gone and done it now. But he’d defended her. Gloriously, wonderfully, heroically defended her.
Kate watched him go, with tears welling in her eyes.
CHAPTER 42
Kate downed the rest of her champagne for courage and hurriedly set the empty flute on a side table. Tears blinding her, she pushed her way through the crowd. She elbowed and shoved. The partygoers were wall-to-wall, all whispering, giggling, and conjecturing. She couldn’t get past them. They all seemed to be headed in the opposite direction, trying to get to the back of the ballroom to see what all the fuss was about. But Kate, Kate was trying to get to the front of the ballroom, to follow James out the door.
She finally made it, pushing past scores of people, her wide blue skirts not helping at all. She threw open the double doors to the ballroom and rushed into the cold corridor, looking both ways. In the shadowy darkness, she glimpsed the black of James’s evening attire slipping through a set of French doors onto a balcony at the end of the hallway. She picked up her skirts and ran, her blue slippers slapping against the marble floors.
By the time she made it to the end of the hallway, she was breathing heavily, her chest aching. She dropped her skirts and grasped the handles to the French doors, pushed them open and stepped out onto the balcony. The freezing wind whipped across her face, but she could barely feel it.
James was there, alone, his arms braced on the balustrade, his drink still in his hand. He stared off across the rooftops, his breath making streams in the night sky.
He was so noble and handsome and … perfect. Her heart wrenched. She wouldn’t have believed it before. If she hadn’t heard his speech to the Cranberrys. But those hadn’t been the words of a man who was just trying to do the right thing. Those had been the words of a man who cared. Truly cared. Loved her, perhaps? Every word he’d said had seared her heart and she couldn’t leave without giving them one more chance.
“James,” she breathed.
He turned around at the sound of her voice. He paused. He set his jaw. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I came with Lily and Annie, and I am, here that is, and I … I heard what you said … to the Cranberrys.”
He spat his words through a clenched jaw. “The Cranberrys don’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”
“James.” She moved over to him and touched his sleeve. “Thank you.”
He stood up straight and took a drink. “You’re always thanking me, Kate. And you have nothing to thank me for.”
“I have everything to thank you for.”
He eyed her up and down. “I assume you are still leaving for the Continent tomorrow.”
She struggled to breathe evenly. Oh God, she knew it. The next few moments would decide their entire future. “It … depends,” she murmured.
He narrowed his eyes on her. “Upon what?”
“On whether you still want to marry me.” Her voice broke on the last two words.
James lifted his free hand and let it fall back to his side. Then his face went hard, like stone, and Kate’s stomach dropped.
“What do you mean, Kate?” His voice was too hard.
She searched his face. His hazel eyes looked positively green from behind his emerald mask. “Do you want to marry me, James?”
He turned. Setting his glass aside, he braced his hands on the balustrade. “Damn it, Kate. I did. God knows I did.”
“And you don’t anymore?” She held her breath, cold tears trembling on her lashes. He couldn’t mean it. Things couldn’t have changed so much in merely a day. Not to mention, he’d just given the most chivalrous speech back there on her behalf. He had to love her. Didn’t he?
He expelled his breath hard, another white puff in the freezing night sky. “I asked you to marry me, Kate, and you left.”
She reached for him, grabbed his sleeve. “James, I love you. I just couldn’t tell you before. I didn’t want you to give up your life for me. Give up your reputation for me. But back there…” She gestured to the ballroom. “I realized. You already have.”
“I told you that already, Kate. What makes tonight any different than Christmas? Didn’t you love me then?”
“Yes. Yes, of course, but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
He looked down and shook his head. “You wouldn’t have hurt me, Kate.”
She dug her nails into the palm of her opposite hand. He was talking about it all in the past tense. As if there were no hope. She couldn’t stand it. What was it her mother had always said? There was nothing two deep breaths won’t cure. Kate took two very deep breaths and exhaled. “I didn’t understand that then. I thought … Lily told me you’d offered for her last spring and I was convinced you were just trying to fix things again. I didn’t think you loved me. Do you, James? Do you love me?” He’d turned to face her, and her eyes frantically searched his face.
His jaw was tight. “Don’t make me answer that, Kate. It doesn’t matter now.”
Tears streaked down her cheeks. They nearly froze in the cold wind. “Why? Why not?”
“I’ve never felt the way I do about you for any woman before. I’ve never— Damn it. I didn’t want to lose you. Lose the only other woman I ever gave a damn about losing. But I already did. I lost you.” He glanced away and there was a distant, dark look in his eyes. One that made Kate’s heart plummet. “I cannot do it again.”
“No, James. Listen to me.” She stepped forward and grabbed his shoulders. “Can’t we start over? Ask me to marry you again, James. Ask me—”
From inside the ballroom, the crowd grew louder. It had to be nearly midnight. Kate held her breath, watching James’s stony face. He remained completely silent.
From inside the ballroom, the crowd began to chant.
Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
The crowd erupted into a mass of cheers as the church bells all over the city rang.
Kate ripped the mask from her head and searched James’s face. “Ask me,
James,” she whispered brokenly. “Ask me.”
He pulled her hand away from his shoulder and placed it back at her side. He shook his head. “It’s too late.”
CHAPTER 43
Somehow James had ended up back at Colton’s town house. After his discussion on the balcony with Kate last night, he’d gone back into the party, ignored the stares and whispers, and danced, and drank and drank and danced some more. He was vaguely aware of the fact that Lily and Annie had left. They’d probably taken Kate up to her room, but Colton and Ashbourne dogged his steps the rest of the night, and now he was staring down another glass of that foul-smelling concoction that Colton had forced on him the day before. How in the hell had Colton and Ashbourne handled all of this in their younger days? James had been doing it for only two nights and already felt half dead. Though he had to reluctantly admit, whatever was in that awful concoction, it had worked. After drinking it the day before, he’d felt better almost immediately.
Lily brought the stuff again. She carried it on a silver tray along with a note from Colton asking James to meet him in his study in half an hour.
“How are you today, Medford?” Lily asked, watching him carefully.
“Not good,” he answered.
“You know, Kate—”
“No!” He held up a hand. “I do not want to talk about Kate.”
Lily slid the silver tray onto the bed next to James and then she plunked her hands on her hips. “I have something to say, my lord, and I’m going to say it even if you don’t want to hear it.”
James rubbed his temples. “Fine.” He groaned. “Get it over with.”
“I spoke to Kate last night and…” Lily bit her lip. “It seems I’d accidentally told her at Colton House that you’d offered for me and … well, she didn’t quite understand. I’m sorry, Medford. I didn’t mean to complicate matters, I apologized to Kate. I explained our friendship and why you’d offered for me.”
James’s face was blank. “I fail to see why that matters.”
Lily sighed. “You obviously don’t know women like you think you do.”
He arched a brow and gave her a wry smile.
“Look. We both know you only offered for me because your heart wasn’t involved. If it had been, if I could have truly hurt you, you wouldn’t have offered.”
He glanced away and cursed under his breath. “I hope you’re about to get to your point.”
“You’re angry with Kate,” she said. “I understand. But you know what I think?”
His voice was clipped. “Something tells me you’re about to say it even if I don’t want to hear it.”
Lily cracked a smile. “You’re right.” She folded her arms over her chest. “I think you are pushing Kate away now because she does have the power to hurt you. She has the power to hurt you very much and you cannot allow it.”
James expelled his breath and closed his eyes. “Are you quite through?”
Lily let out a frustrated breath and pushed the silver tray closer to him. “Yes, I’m through. But I wish you’d at least consider what I have to say.” She pointed at the green drink on the tray. “Drink this. Feel better. Then meet Devon downstairs. Perhaps he can talk some sense into you.”
“Don’t count on it,” James bit out.
He watched Lily stomp off, slamming the door behind her without a care for his pounding head. He winced. He supposed he deserved that. He’d been a complete ass since the moment she’d walked in the room. But he refused to listen. He knew exactly what he was doing. Using reason. Using logic. Since when had those two things ever let him down?
And now Colton wanted to speak to him. Perfect. He’d entertain a conversation with the marquis for exactly five minutes, thank him for his glass of green whatever-it-was, and be on his way. Lily and Devon may have found true love and a happily ever after, but both of them would do well to realize that they were fortunate. Happy endings didn’t happen for everyone.
Pinching his nose, James downed the vile liquid in one horrible gulp, washed up as best he could using the basin in his room, and made his way down to the study a bit early.
Firming his resolve, James pushed open the doors to the room and walked inside. Colton was nowhere to be seen, but Justin was there, sitting on the sofa in the middle of the study with a book open on his lap. The two dogs, Leo and Bandit, were perched on either side of him.
“Good morning, Uncle James,” Justin said in a bright, happy voice. James smiled at that. “Lily told me you were here,” Justin added.
James strolled in and sat down in the chair across from the five-year-old, regarding him. “Good morning, Justin,” he replied. “Lily was right. I’m here again. What are you reading?”
“A book about Egypt,” Justin said. “I intend to go there someday. I’m going to travel all around the world.”
“Ah, you have lofty aspirations. That’s good.”
Justin nodded matter-of-factly. “Have you traveled around the world, Uncle James?”
James cracked another smile. “Not around it, entirely, lad, but some of it, to be sure.”
“I intend to travel around all of it. I want to go to India, Constantinople, the Americas. Everywhere!”
“What about the Continent? Do you intend to travel through Europe?”
“Oh yes, of course.” Justin nodded again. The child tilted his head and regarded James through dark, assessing eyes. “Why are you here, Uncle James? I’ve never known you to stay at our town house before.”
James cleared his throat. Justin was too astute by half. Always had been. “I had a bit of an … overzealous evening last night, I’m afraid.”
Justin righted his head. “Lily says you’re sad.”
James frowned. “She did, did she?”
“Yes. Why are you sad, Uncle James? Is it because your house burned down?”
James nearly had a coughing fit. “Who told you my house burned down?”
Justin shrugged. “Lily and Aunt Annie.”
“Of course.” James shook his head. “No. I’m not sad because my house burned down. It was only a house.”
Justin appeared to consider that for a moment before closing the book and setting it aside. Bandit moved out of the way to allow for it. “Then why are you sad, Uncle James?”
“I’m not—” James sighed. He scrubbed his hand across his face. No use pretending with Justin. Children had a knack for getting to the heart of things, particularly this very intelligent child. “I’m just … a bit … unhappy.”
“Why?”
There was that question again. James regarded the boy. Astute, this one. He shrugged. “It’s complicated.”
Justin folded his little hands in his lap. “When people tell me it’s complicated they usually mean they don’t want to explain it to me because they don’t think I’ll understand.”
James struggled to hide his smile. “Is that right?”
Justin nodded. “Lily told me that you and I have something in common. I think it’s what makes you sad.”
James looked twice. “Something in common? What’s that?”
“My mother died when I was born. Lily told me yours did too.”
James expelled his breath as if a punch had just landed in his gut. He’d never even thought about it before, but it was true. Justin’s mother was Colton’s former mistress. Colton hadn’t known she was with child. Alone and penniless, she’d given birth to the boy in a poorhouse and died the same day. The other women who lived there took pity on the baby and cared for him. If it hadn’t been for Colton’s father attempting to use the boy as a pawn for his own reasons and retrieving the lad, Justin might have grown up without a father too, without any family. Justin would have had a very different life. But the boy was right. The two of them did have that in common. Their births had caused their mothers’ deaths.
“I’m sorry your mother died,” James said solemnly.
“I’m sorry yours did,” Justin replied just as solemnly. He petted Bandit who hopped up to try
to lick his face. “You know what Mrs. Appleby told me about my mother?”
James braced himself, something about angels and being watched over, no doubt. He was glad that sort of thing could comfort the boy, but it was hardly something that could help him. “What’s that?”
“Life is for the living.”
James snapped up his head. His brow furrowed. “What?”
“Life is for the living,” Justin repeated. “I used to be sad because my mother was dead and because I’d never know her or see her. But Mrs. Appleby said that my mother wouldn’t want that for me. She said my mother would hate to know I’m spending my time being sad for her.”
James narrowed his eyes on the boy. He’d always known Justin was uncommonly clever for his age, Lily had told him so on more than one occasion, but the lad had surprised him. No doubt about it.
“I’m sure she would,” James replied.
“You know what I think, Uncle James?” Justin asked.
“What’s that, lad?”
The boy stood, picked up his book, and made his way to the door. The two dogs hopped from the sofa and followed close on his heels. “I think your mother wouldn’t want you to be sad about her either. She would want you to live.” Justin slipped through the door and James watched him go with what he was sure was a look of complete amazement on his face.
He scratched his head. Had he just received a life lesson from a five-year-old? He considered the boy’s words. Life was indeed for the living. James had spent his whole life in pursuit of perfection, in an effort to make up for the loss of his mother. He couldn’t see it in his own life, but when he considered Justin’s situation, it seemed so clear. Of course Justin’s mother didn’t blame him. He’d been an infant, an innocent. There was nothing the boy could have done to prevent her death. And a normal father like Colton never would have blamed him, even if he’d been madly in love with the boy’s mother. A sane person doesn’t blame an infant for a mother’s death. James had known his father was mad, but it hadn’t hit him so squarely in the chest as it did after his discussion with Justin. By God, the child was right. Life was for the living and it had taken a little boy to teach him that.
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