by Gill, Tamara
Katherine did as he asked. “Teach me,” she said, sighing as he kissed her mons.
Oh, he intended to.
Chapter 12
Hamish sat in the library at his mother’s townhouse, a pile of paperwork on his desk, some of which related to the rebuilding of his townhouse in Berkley Square. The letter, scrawled in delicate hand was signed by Katherine’s father, but Hamish knew she’d written every word.
Since their return to London a month past, they had been inseparable, stealing away at events, coming together at nights when he’d take her home from balls and parties. He couldn’t wait for his home to be completed so he could take her there instead, have her in his own bed and not a bloody carriage or room at a ball or party.
Hamish hadn’t delved too much into what Katherine had come to mean to him, but what he did know was that he cared for her more than he’d cared for anyone else. Her happiness was paramount in his life, and that she still met his desire with as much eagerness as she did told him more than words ever could that they suited.
A knock sounded on his door, and he placed down Katherine’s letter telling him that the construction part of his property was now complete, and the interior would commence, handled by Mr. Thomas Hope. It was a letter stating that her father’s part in the reconstruction of his home was at an end and that payment would be due.
“Enter,” he said, not liking the thought of going back to Berkley Square and not seeing Katherine there, dressed in breeches, the small grey cap perched jauntily atop her hair and looking so delectable that he’d had to steal her away one day and have her. He’d managed to lock them in his dining room where he’d taken her on the table. Never would he ever look at the mahogany set with anything but fondness.
“May I come in, Lord Leighton?” Lizzie stood at the door. He gestured her to come in.
“Have a seat, Lizzie.” She did as he bade, and he gave her his full attention. “How can I help you?”
She clasped her hands tight in her lap, and her wringing of them gave her anxiety away.
“What troubles you?” he asked, placing down his quill.
Tears sprang into her eyes and he balked, not used to such feminine theatrics. Katherine never lost her countenance, she was calm and collected with everything. All except their lovemaking. He shook the thoughts aside and concentrated on Lizzie and her problem.
“Your mother wishes for us to marry my lord and I didn’t know who else to turn to. For weeks she has been pushing me to gain your favour, but this time she’s gone too far, and I cannot do it.”
Hamish clenched his jaw not surprised Lizzie’s upset was caused by his meddling parent. “What has she asked of you?” He hated to know, but if he was going to deal with the situation, and his mother in particular, he needed to know everything.
“She wanted me to be caught in your arms, near ruin me so you would, as a gentleman, have to offer for me. I cannot do it, my lord. As much as I respect you and thank you for your service during the season, I do only feel brotherly affections for you.”
After her impassioned speech, Hamish had to admit for a new-found respect for Miss Doherty. He’d thought her his mother’s pawn and creature, but the girl had spunk, a little independent will and he liked that. She would need her backbone when his mother learned of her treachery.
“I thank you for being honest and notifying me of my mother’s less than proper proposition. I shall speak to her and I can assure you, you will finish out the season without any influence from her or what her wishes are.”
The girl pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her cheeks. “She’ll send me back to the country where I shall die an old maid and never have what so many of my friends do.”
The notion made him think of Katherine and the fact that at six and twenty she was termed old maid already and well on the shelf. The idea didn’t sit well with him, never had. A woman of such independence of mind, a beautiful soul inside and out should never sit on a shelf and die an old maid, never loved or cherished.
“I promise you, that will never happen. And surely, there are men closer to you in age that have caught your attention. You will not pass away an old maid.”
“I have no dowry, my lord. My father has settled everything on my brother and all that’s left for me is a measly two-hundred pounds per year gifted to my husband upon my marriage. I may have admirers already, but I do not have the money to tempt them to propose. I seem to be only worth monetary value within our Society, not the value placed on myself.”
She met his gaze, her words striking him as an unfortunate truth in their lives.
“I therefore shall never marry, for I cannot buy my husband,” she said with a bitterness normally not seen in one so young.
Hamish stood, coming around the desk to lean on it before her. “I’ll not allow that. Because you’re under our protection, I shall ensure that such a thing will never happen. I will give you a dowry Miss Doherty. Ten thousand pounds in fact, a measly sum to my family, but, there is a condition.”
“But my lord, I couldn’t possibly. That’s too much,” she stammered, eyes flaring with shock.
“It is done. I shall have the papers drawn up by month’s end, but as I said, there is a condition.”
“And that is?” She’d paled, but she seemed to be listening.
“That we keep it a secret. And then, Lizzie, when you find the right gentleman, who’ll love you as poor as you supposedly are, you’ll know its love. You’ll know that he is the right man for you.”
She sat there for a moment, her mouth agape with no sound, before she jumped up, throwing her arms about him and hugging him tight. “Oh, thank you so much, Lord Leighton. Thank you so much. I shall be forever grateful and if you ever need anything, just say the word and I shall stand beside you always.”
He set her back, shaking his head. “There is no need to thank me, you’ve paid penance enough for the dowry having to spend the season with my mother. Now,” he said, pushing her toward the door, the paperwork on his desk waiting for no one. “Be on your way and enjoy what’s left of the season, and don’t be too quick to choose a husband. Sometimes the one for you will arrive when you least expect it.”
She nodded and quietly closed the door behind him. Hamish stared at it a moment, thinking of Katherine and how she had arrived in his life not at eighteen, and new to town, but at six and twenty, a woman, one who knew her mind, and wanted to know all that her body was capable of. A woman who worked for her living, and ran a very successful business.
Lizzie reminded him in many ways of his sister. Of her trepidation at having a London Season and trying to make a grand match. Luckily for May she’d married for love, a consolation considering she passed away giving birth to her other greatest love. He’d given his sister very similar advice that he’d given to Lizzie. To marry the man of her choosing, not that of their parent. After all, it was they who had to live with their choice when it was all said and done.
He smiled, thinking of Katherine. He would see her tonight at Lord and Lady Oliver’s ball, the event of the season by all accounts. He would be returning to Hollyvale in a few weeks and the idea of leaving Katherine in town left a sour taste in his mouth. Would she come with him? If he invited their friends, perhaps she would, and then he could have her there, in his home, spend time with just her and no one else.
The word marriage flittered through his mind and he paused. Could he marry her, have a life with her? Panic tore through him at the thought of her getting with a child and dying. He could no longer deny what he felt for Katherine, for it was love, absolute, uncensored love, but he’d loved his sister too, and she had still died. Nothing could save her, other than the choice of not having children.
He doubted he’d be able to stop Katherine from wanting children and she deserved to be a mother, she didn’t deserve to have his fears, his nightmares become her future. No, she deserved so much more than that.
Chapter 13
The ball was well under way,
and Katherine had danced and laughed the night away with Cecilia and Darcy, along with Lord Leighton who hadn’t left her side. He’d danced a waltz with her, stepped out with his mother’s ward Miss Lizzie Doherty who seemed a lovely young woman, beside the fact she had to deal with Hamish’s mother most days. Hamish had then danced with her again but seemed quite content not to move from his current position and dance with any others.
It suited Katherine perfectly well. She adored having him dote on her, and that’s exactly what he’d been doing since their return from Surrey. Within their friendship group it was no longer a secret of their liaison. The duke had warned her of the scandal that would break should such a liaison become public knowledge. They’d been very discreet and careful and there was no reason why their relationship could not continue. At least in her mind.
Lord Leighton reached down between them and slid his finger over her pinkie. “Meet me in the music room. No one will be in there.”
Need coursed through her veins and she met his gaze, reveling in the desire and heat that she saw there. He looked exactly how she felt. “Where is it?”
“Head toward the withdrawing room upstairs, but on the landing, turn right instead of left. It’s the only door on the right-hand side of the corridor. I’ll leave it ajar,” he whispered, moving away through the throng.
Katherine made a point of taking little heed of his leaving and turned to Cecilia who was discussing the invitation Lord Leighton had bestowed on them all for a month-long house party at his country estate after the Season. Upon receiving the invite she’d thrilled at the idea of seeing his home, and yet, the thought gave her pause. They had been having an affair for almost two months and he had not once suggested as to when they would end, when he’d wish to leave.
And even though she’d asked him to sleep with her, show and teach her everything, it now felt like an arrangement, almost as if she’d become his mistress. Not that he wasn’t caring, or loyal to her, for she never doubted that, only that she wanted more. Being loved by Hamish had showed her that she was valued as a woman, not just a Long Meg with plain hair that people passed over. But a woman, one who now knew how to love, not just Lord Leighton but herself. She did not dress to please anyone but herself, and she certainly carried herself as an equal with her friends. Never would she allow anyone to cast her out as if she was nothing but trade. But as time progressed, each liaison she had with Hamish had started to make her feel as if she wasn’t worth more than a tumble. And it was no longer enough.
“I’m going to the retiring room. I shall be back shortly,” she said, bobbing a small curtsy to her grace and the marquess and marchioness.
The room was easy to find and entering she quickly looked to ensure no one had seen her and shut the door. Hamish stood by the windows, looking out over the gardens. Her heart did a little flip and she took her fill of him before walking over to where he stood.
“You look so beautiful tonight,” he said, kissing her. It had been almost two weeks since they’d seen each other, and the embrace quickly turned from sedate, and sweet to incendiary. Somehow, each time they were together they just worked. They knew where each other liked to be touched, what kisses drove the other mad, and Katherine clung to him, meeting his demand with her own to match.
“I have to have you,” he murmured.
Katherine acquiesced his request, wanting him too, and forgetting her own misgivings of earlier let him push her over toward a settee. There was time to discuss what they were, whatever that may be. They could do that tomorrow, away from the ball and any eavesdropping matrons of the ton. Tonight, right now, she wanted to have him all to herself, love him as much as she adored him and show him that she was his, if only he’d ask.
The settee hit the back of her legs and she sat. Hamish didn’t waste any time before bearing her down, hitching her skirts up about her waist, his hand sliding against her core in tantalising strokes.
“I cannot get enough of you,” he said, his voice roughened with desire. He kneeled between her legs and ripped at his frontfalls, coming back over her and thrusting into her hard. They both moaned at the sheer delight of being together in this way. He kissed her hard, and she gasped as he pushed her toward a fast climax. They fit so perfectly well, and she shut her eyes as tears pricked behind her lids. She wouldn’t become emotional over their joining, even if it was so very good. All that she’d hoped to have with a husband one day, back when she’d thought to marry.
His strokes deepened and with it the pleasure of their joining teased with exquisite torture. “Hamish, just there. Don’t stop.”
The whispered word ‘never’ tickled her ear and ecstasy rocked through her, hard and fast and she muffled her moan into the shoulder of his jacket. He took her without restraint then and with a muffled groan found his own pleasure within her.
The moment he did he stilled.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling her head back from his shoulder to look at him.
“I didn’t pull out,” he said, frowning. “Damn it, Katherine. I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, dismissing the idea that the one time he’d made such an error would ever result in a baby. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Let us not needlessly worry unless we need to.”
The fact that he hadn’t mentioned that he’d marry her should the mistake result in a child, hurt. Hamish had come to mean so much to her. Did he feel the same? By his reaction she could only assume he hadn’t come to feel for her as she did for him. For it had been many weeks since Katherine, without any doubt came to realize she loved him. With all her heart and would give anything for him to feel the same.
He moved off her, righting his clothes and she stood, doing the same, going over to a nearby mirror and fixing her hair. “I had better return to the ball. I shall see you again soon.” Moving toward the door, he grabbed her arm, pulling her to stop.
Leaning down, Hamish kissed her with such tenderness that she pulled away and left without another word. Why she was so emotional made no sense, she was not normally a woman who succumbed to hysterics. She just needed some time, to think about what she would say to Hamish when she saw him again, but no matter what, if they were not going to have a future, then the liaison had to come to an end. The thought made her double over and she leaned against the wall, not wanting to even imagine a future without him. Why did she have to proposition him? Why did she have to know what lying with a man would be like? If only it wasn’t going to be her heart that broke in two when he agreed to her fears and they parted as friends.
* * *
The following day Katherine had been summoned to the Duchess of Athelby’s for afternoon tea, but upon arrival found only Darcy and Cecilia present. Pleasure at having her friends to herself was soon replaced by the tempered looks they cast her upon arrival.
Katherine sat in the available wing back chair, folding her hands in her lap and wondered what was amiss. “You two are very glum this afternoon. Is there something wrong?”
Darcy poured the tea, throwing her a tentative smile before sitting down. Cecilia was quiet, contemplative and taking a sip of her tea then placed the cup on the linen covered table and met her eyes. “You were seen last night, in the music room, and not by us. Should it have been any one of us, as your friends we would’ve hidden any infraction you may have taken part in, but we cannot hide what is in today’s gossip rag.”
Thankfully Katherine was seated, for had she been standing her legs would’ve surely given out. She’d been seen? Oh, dear lord, which part had they seen? The kiss or the second act where Lord Leighton had pinned her upon the sofa and…Oh no…
She cringed, and picking up the paper, read the words that seemed to scream out at her, mocking and ripping her reputation to shreds. Harlot!
“Father reads this paper.” Her heart skidded to a stop, her gown too tight, the room spun and distantly she heard Darcy call out for salts. Within a moment she was cast back to reality, but no sooner had that occurred the thought of w
hat all of London knew, what they were thinking ricocheted through her mind.
She read the article a second time, not wanting to believe what was written in black and white.
A certain woman, with the initials of KM, from a social sphere several steps below that of the ton was seen frittering with a certain gentleman Lord L. The lady seen, in a most compromising position will not reconstruct her reputation from here, no matter how well her family have the ability since its their specialized trade.
“I’m ruined. I should probably leave.” Katherine stood, and Darcy reached out a hand, stopping her.
“You’re not going anywhere. What happened last night, Katherine, we need to know. The duke has gone to fetch Lord Leighton as we speak, there are things we must do to try and salvage your reputation.”
Katherine stood and walked to the decanter of whisky, pouring herself a glass, drinking it down before repeating it all again. Her father would be crushed to know she’d fallen. He would be livid, which was not a state that Katherine ever saw him in. And she’d done that to him. She’d embarrassed everyone including herself.
She met her friends’ concerned eyes and sighed. “You know I wanted an affair with Lord Leighton, to experience a little of what you both have. I had resigned myself to never marry, never finding the man whom I loved and respected.”
“That is not true, Kat. You’re a beautiful woman and anyone would be honoured to marry you. If only you would let us seek you potential suitors,” Cecilia said, taking her hand.
Katherine squeezed it a little before letting it go. Either way, her friend’s words did not change what she knew to be true. Had she been desirable, attractive she would’ve married years ago. Her dowry was large, more than a lot of people imagined, but even that had not been tempting enough. Or too tempting and her only courtiers were fortune hunters. “Lord Leighton is famous for his blonde, goddess like women who have curves in all the right places. Beautiful skin, and sparking eyes. I may have pretty eyes, I will admit to that, but my hair is the colour of rats’ fur.”