Unfortunately, she’d need his permission to return to Cornwall, and getting that wouldn’t be easy.
Tonight they were to share Lady Carlisle’s box at the opera. At Hunter’s suggestion, Lady Carlisle had also invited Lord Herrington. Kay hated the thought of helping him again, but she had little choice. If Lady Carlisle weren’t such a dear old friend, she’d have made some excuse, but Kay wouldn’t dream of hurting her feelings.
Kay wore one of her new gowns, a shimmering green creation shot with spun gold. When she moved the gold threads caught the light like a mermaid’s tail. It made her think of home and the sea. A lump caught in her throat as Cora settled her frothy gold shawl around her bare arms.
Then she lifted her shoulders.
One more night, that was all.
Surely she could get through that.
Hunter appeared cool and aloof standing at the bottom of the stairs. His eyes never left her, marking her progress with every step.
She ignored his presence. Her heart remained numb. He might have been a footman waiting to open the door.
By the time she reached him, the corners of his mouth tugged upward in a wry smile.
A spark of anger flashed in her breast. But she managed to tap it down, accepting his arm with a detached air of indifference. After all, she was doing this out of respect for Lady Carlisle and her unconditional support and generosity, not for him.
The last thing she wanted was to spend an evening trapped in the close confines of an opera box with him. Had he given her even the benefit of the doubt, she might have been inclined to feel sympathy for the painful turn his life had taken as a result of Phelia’s cruel trick. She might have understood and made allowances for his bitterness.
But he hadn’t.
He cared nothing for her.
He cared for nothing, save his own revenge.
It was a long silent ride to the opera house.
Hunter seemed content to lounge back in his seat, eyes hooded, as though half-dozing.
Kay trained her gaze out the window, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. She needed his permission to return to Cornwall, but couldn’t bring herself to grovel just yet.
“Are you planning to sulk all evening?”
She turned from the window, fixing him with an icy stare. “I am not sulking.”
He chuckled. “Yes you are. You’d hoped to bargain your way out of our agreement, but your little plan failed.” He folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “Did you really think I’d let you go—let you off the hook that easy?”
She flashed him a hate-filled glare, then turned back to the window. “Alright, I admit I’m curious,” he drawled. “Tell me what Herrington said and I’ll tell you what its worth to me.”
She almost choked at his bold arrogance. Did he really think she was that naive? She turned back from the window to consider him. If he was still interested in bargaining, perhaps they could strike a deal. She had him on the end of her hook now. All she need do was pull him in.
“Actually, Lord Herrington didn’t tell me anything more than you’ve already found out. It was Charlie who provided the most interesting intelligence. Although… what he told me may only confuse the issue, inhibit your investigation. It’s probably not worth considering.”
Hunter shrugged. “Perhaps you’re right.”
Ha! Did he think her a fool? He was positively reeking with curiosity. God, how she loved it! She hoped he’d combust from the force of his speculations. All she need do now was to wait.
The opera house was a squeeze when they arrived. All was a glitter. Guests lingered in the foyer, spilling champagne while they bumped and jostled, laughing and gabbing with their friends.
Hunter led her directly to Lady Carlisle’s box, out of view of the curious eyes of the ton, still speculating over their whirlwind marriage.
The performance was plausibly entertaining from what Kay heard above the noise of the crowd, who clearly were there to socialize and be seen rather than listen to the drama on stage. She perched beside Lady Carlisle, leaving Hunter to converse with Lord Herrington. Unfortunately, Kay couldn’t hear what they were saying in the polluted hum. Even with her curious ears perked in their direction, it was difficult to make out more than the odd word.
“I’m absolutely parched,” Lady Carlisle announced at the first interval. Lord Herrington rose, offering to fetch them refreshment, but she waved him back down. “No, no, Kay and I will do the honors. I have someone I’d like her to meet.” As soon as they’d left the box and were out of ear shot, she gave her a conspirator’s wink. “I usually make it a point not to interfere in feuds such as this, but since I know you’ll never breathe a word, I agreed to bring you to him.”
“Bring me to whom?’
“Why, Charlie of course.”
“Charlie!” Kay couldn’t hide her amazement. “Where is he?”
“Follow me, my dear.”
Kay followed, threading her way through the kaleidoscope crush of silk and satin clad bodies. At one point their slow progress was temporarily stalled by a large woman in a jonquil silk, reeking of rose water. Her hyena-like laughter floated after them as they finally managed to detour round her stout girth.
“I feel completely rearranged,” Lady Carlisle complained when they arrived under the painting of Shakespeare, where Charlie stood waiting. “I’ll leave you two to chat while I powder my nose, and anything else that has the impertinence to glow.”
Charlie grabbed Kay by the wrist to draw her behind one of the gilded pillars. “Can you ever forgive me? I’ve been such a cad and a bore, not to mention a perfect ass. But I was just so angry and frustrated. I didn’t know what to do.”
“I know.” Kay squeezed his hand. “Of course I forgive you. Whatever happens you’re my one true friend.”
“But what I did the other night… it was wrong. And my getting foxed and acting like a boorish lout. I don’t know what came over me. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I mean, at first I worried that you might go off and marry that bounder Herrington before I could tell you he was one of Phelia’s cast offs, then I hear you’ve married the Duke instead.” He took a long calming breath. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that Father is shipping me back to Oxford in a few days. I’ll be home for the holidays, of course. But if you should need me… need anything.”
She squeezed his hand again, giving him a small forced smile. “I’ll be fine. You needn’t worry. But there is something I need to know.” She trained her eyes on his, trying to will the truth from him. “Why didn’t you trust me?”
“You’re right.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I should have. I’m sorry. But I knew you’d forgive me.” His look of contrition fled to be replaced by a bright smile, making her uncertain if he was sorry at all.
For a long moment, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. “You hurt me, Charlie,” she said finally in a small voice. “Is there anything else I should know?” Her voice climbed a notch. “I mean anything else that might do irrevocable damage to my life!” She gritted. “Because, if there is… I’d like to know!”
He flushed to the roots of his golden curls. “No, I swear, there’s nothing. I’m sorry, Kay, truly I am.”
Lady Carlisle returned at that moment. She must have sensed something amiss. She grabbed Kay by the arm, declaring brightly, “We really must get back to our box, before we’re missed.”
Kay kept her eyes on Charlie until the crowd swallowed him up.
When they neared the entrance to their box, she came out of her trance like a marionette having its strings jerked. “I’m sorry, but I’m not feeling well. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d be very grateful if you could tell the Duke I’ve gone home.”
“Of course, my dear.” Lady Carlisle’s gaze softened. “I’ll walk with you to your carriage.” She didn’t ask any questions, just took her by the arm. When Kay was seated safely in the coach, she leaned inside saying, “Don’t worry, my dear. It will all work out. Remem
ber, I’m always there to listen if you should ever need to talk.”
Kay leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “You’re such a dear friend. I don’t know what I would have done without you these past weeks.”
“Goodnight, my dear. I’ll call on you tomorrow to see how you’re fairing.”
Kay nodded mechanically, though she’d already decided she wouldn’t be there.
She waved goodbye, making a mental note to send a message first thing in the morning to Lady Carlisle, informing her she had returned to the coast.
Chapter Eighteen
“Gone?” Hunter’s heart gave a sickly thud. “What do you mean gone?”
Robert took a step back. “She isn’t here, Your Grace.”
Hunter came to his feet. “Get Thornhill in here! Now!” He strode to the window. “Damn!”
Alex’s volley of laughter resounded throughout the dining room from where he bent over his breakfast plate. “So the prisoner has escaped. This is getting interesting.”
Hunter slashed him a withering glare. “Who’s side are you on?”
“The right side. I’m always on the right side.” Alex leaned back, balancing his weight on the back legs of his chair. “I’ll leave that up to your imagination.”
“Go to hell!” Hunter had the urge to kick the chair out from under him.
Alex grinned broadly. “I knew it wouldn’t take her long to call your bluff.”
“What do you mean, call my bluff?”
“Come on, you’re not going to hand her over to the authorities and you never were.” Alex waved a hand in the air. “Whatever she’s done, she isn’t a hardened criminal and you know it. She may have helped Galloway, but she isn’t behind any of this.”
“Stay out of it, Alex.” Hunter strode back to the table to plunk down to pour himself another cup of coffee. Apparently, he’d gone too far, waving the loss of her virtue in her face like a victory flag. In truth, he felt no satisfaction at taking her maidenhead, only the heavy burden of responsibility that came with it. He hadn’t asked for it, he hadn’t wanted to feel this way—this possessive protectiveness every time he looked at her.
Damn her!
Damn her innocent looks and sweet sighs that tugged at his heart, eroding the hard shell he’d put there.
“Why not let her go?” Alex prodded. “You’ve accomplished what you set out to do. Galloway won’t want her now. Let her go and be done with it?”
Hunter set his cup down with a clatter. “Because I’m not finished with her yet.”
“No?” Alex widened his gaze in a mock innocent look. “Why ever not?”
Hunter sent him a murderous glare.
Alex sobered then gave him a long considering look. “God! Just admit it. You’re completely smitten with her.” He laughed again, with gusto this time. “I never thought I’d see the day when your jaded heart would soften toward a woman, but it has, by God it has! I love it!”
Hunter gritted his teeth. “The only thing soft around here is your head.”
Alex held up both hands. “Whatever you say.”
Thornhill arrived looking grave.
“Well? Where is she?”
“The Duchess left early this morning in the chaise, Your Grace,” Thornhill related in a perplexed tone, as though he assumed Hunter had been apprised of these details. “She left no word of her destination or possible return.”
“Thank you, Thornhill. That will be all.” When the door closed, Hunter exploded like a cannon. “Bloody Hell! She’s probably run back to Cornwall to see to her precious horses. What the deuced is she thinking? The roads aren’t safe for a woman traveling alone.”
Alex wiped his lips with the blue linen napkin. “I take it you’re going after her?”
“I have an appointment, I cannot break. Bollocks! I’m this close to discovering the truth about Hartley and she bolts. Women! This is just why I did not wish to marry. You cannot please them! They are more trouble than they are worth!” Hunter heaved a loud sigh. “Maybe I should just let her go. My life would be a damn sight easier.”
“I’ll keep the appointment for you,” Alex said, rising to his feet. “If there’s anything worth telling, I’ll come down to Cornwall and relate it myself. There,” He tossed his napkin beside his plate. “It’s settled. All that’s left to do is saddle your horse.” A frown settled over his brow. “Unless, she hasn’t gone back to the manor, and instead is on a packet back to France.”
“What?” Hunter’s blood heated anew. “Why would she do that?”
Alex spread his hands, widening his eyes in mock-innocence. “Oh, I don’t know, because you’ve been a complete and total bastard.”
Hunter sent him a warning look.
Alex paid him no heed. “I wonder what finally did it. Was it one of your many groundless accusations, or your habit of treating every woman you meet with as little regard as you would a whore.”
“Shut up Alex!”
“No, I’d really like to know what your secret is.” Alex could hardly control his laughter. “Because, it’s worked quite well up until now. Women follow you around like bitches in heat. But, this is the first time I’ve ever seen one tuck tail and run.” He was laughing so hard now he was gasping for breath.
“What would you know of marriage?” Hunter’s voice rose, though he attempted to control his ire. “Your experience with women is limited to the inside of a brothel.”
“Too true, my friend,” Alex said, wiping the tears of mirth from beneath his eyes. “I love women too well to ever limit myself to one. But, then I’ve never met one as fair as your Duchess.”
Alex’s baiting did little to still the tempest building in Hunter chest. Instead, it only heightened the urgency he felt to find her. Like a treasure once found, then lost, he felt sorely chafed. It was a matter of pride to him now. If he had to ride all day and half the night, he’d catch her and bring her back.
***
Viewing the expression on the driver’s face, Kay expelled a loud sigh.
Rot!
And they’d been making such good time.
“We’ve got us a wheel that’s none too good, Your Grace. I know you had it in your mind to get there with no stops, but I’m afraid it can’t be helped.”
“Very well, Mr. Dickey,” Kay nodded to the bewhiskered red liveried driver. “But I’ll be anxious to leave at first light.”
“Nary a problem. There be a smithy at the Blue Garter. He’ll fix us up right.”
Traveling post chaise had seemed the right choice at the time. A team of four stopping for fresh horses at each stage was usually the fastest way to travel. But now Kay wasn’t so certain. She’d even sent Cora by mail coach to lighten the load.
Well, it couldn’t be helped. Luckily the driver had spotted the problem before they overturned. Their pace would be slowed considerably, which meant, as it turned out, it was some time before they crippled to the Blue Garter’s door.
It was dark when the groom clambered down from the platform at the back of the chaise to help her alight.
Kay tugged the hood of her blue velvet cloak further forward to conceal her face.
An old wooden sign creaked in the evening breeze, identifying the place. Muffled sounds of laughter floated from Inn where the warm glow of candlelight shone through dust streaked windows.
Striding toward the door, Kay prayed she could procure a room at such a late hour.
Inside, the ruddy faced innkeeper informed her with gruff cordialness that he had only one room left. “It’s the smallest one I have. There be only a pitcher and basin for washing. You’re a mite late to be getting one of me better rooms, but we’ll do our best to make you comfortable.”
Kay paid him in advance before following him through the noisy, smoke filled tavern and up the narrow stairs.
When she pushed opened the crude wooden door to the grating moan of un-oiled hinges, she could see he’d been telling the truth. It appeared more like an overgrown closet than a bedchamber. A narr
ow cot and a small rickety table were the only furniture to be seen. A window at the end of the bed let in the warm evening breeze, giving some relief from the moldy air.
A sullen chambermaid dressed in a brown frock followed behind her with fresh water. She reminded Kay of a small flitting moth—no doubt the innkeeper’s daughter, since they possessed the same brown eyes and dark auburn hair. She set the blue pitcher on the table then bobbed her way out, promising to return with Kay’s supper.
This turned out to be a slice of meat pie, a small dish of stewed peaches, and a bottle of wine. Kay ate what she could though she wasn’t very hungry. She’d been nibbling all day out of the basket Cora packed.
Kay kept the bottle of wine in case she became thirsty in the night, deciding to leave the rest outside the door, since there was barely room on the ancient table for her personal effects. As she set the tray down, her ears perked at the sound of a familiar voice.
“I noticed a chaise parked by your stables. I wondered if it belonged to a friend of mine,”
Herrington.
The air in her throat caught.
The innkeeper’s answer came gruff and hollow. “Begging your pardon, your lordship, but I don’t give the names of me guests out to no one.”
Kay didn’t wait to hear more. She slipped back into her room and bolted the door.
What was he doing here? It seemed a terrible coincidence that Herrington should be staying in the same inn as her, or even traveling in the same direction. It made her uneasy to imagine him sleeping down the hall. There was something about him she didn’t like, besides Hunter’s suspicions.
Since the moment Charlie introduced him he’d been far too persistent, leaving his card an embarrassingly number of times at the house in St. James. And then there was that odd business of her reminding him of his sister. Not to mention the question of his involvement in Hartley’s murder.
She checked the lock on the door again, then slipped the key into her pocket. After pouring another glass of wine, she sat down on the end of the cot by the half-opened window. ‘Twas a warm night. The breeze wafting past the lace curtains felt good on her bare arms and cheeks.
The Thief and the Rogue Page 21