Destined to Last

by Alissa Johnson

  A woman could trap a gentleman into marriage with very little trouble. She needed only to close the right door or plan a kiss at the right time, and suddenly she had the gentleman neatly bound up, boxed in, and otherwise defeated by his own sense of honor. Bit like carrying your own rope to the gallows, in Hunter’s opinion.

  It was a sight more difficult to hang a man without that rope.

  Too difficult for Miss Willory, it seemed. She glanced at the door one more time, then sniffed haughtily. “I’ve no idea how much you imbibed tonight, Mr. Hunter, but I suggest you severely limit the quantity in the future.”

  He went back to looking at his book. “I shall take that under advisement.”

  “Given that you are clearly deep in your cups, I shall endeavor to forget this unfortunate conversation by morning.”

  “I’d estimate two minutes left.”

  She spun for the door. “Good night, Mr. Hunter.”

  “Miss Willory.”

  Seventeen

  As the bright light of the late morning sun streamed through the windows, Kate glanced at the parlor entrance for the tenth time in the past half hour. Ten, she assured herself, was a perfectly acceptable number of glances. At least insofar as it was unlikely to draw the notice of the other guests in the room. Guests who did not include Hunter, which was why she continued to glance at the door.

  She’d not had the opportunity to speak with him privately again the night before, and he’d been missing from breakfast. Gone in to Iberston at sunrise, Whit had informed her. Determined not to obsess over his absence, she’d retired to her room to compose. Three hours later she’d emerged and headed to the music room to test the first quarter of a new sonatina.

  She’d assumed she would have to stand while she played, but to her amazement and delight, there was a brand new piano bench sitting in front of the instrument. After questioning a maid and discovering Hunter was responsible for its purchase, she’d gone straight to the parlor where she had been awaiting his arrival ever since. Surely the man didn’t plan on spending all day in his room.

  “Would you care for a game of chess, Lady Kate?”

  Kate glanced up from her sheets of music at Lord Brentworth’s query. He’d been very solicitous toward her last night in the parlor and again that morning at breakfast, and now he’d elected to keep the gentlemen at the house rather than take them out for the day. He was clearly attempting to make amends for the unfortunate piano bench incident, and she hadn’t the heart to tell him she wasn’t especially interested in a game of chess at the moment, nor that she would have considered it a personal favor if he had taken the gentlemen out for the day. Particularly Lord Martin and Mr. Laury, both of whom were eyeing her from across the room. The first with more interest than appropriate given that he was currently engaged in a conversation with Miss Willory.

  “A game of chess would be lovely,” she replied politely.

  “Excellent, my son was just expressing his desire to play.” Lord Brentworth turned and gestured for Lord Martin. “Martin, Martin, my boy, come have a game of chess with Lady Kate.”

  Taken completely off guard, Kate wracked her brain for a way to excuse herself from the game. “Oh, er…” She looked about the room as if someone or something in it might offer inspiration, but nothing and no one did.

  Oh, blast. She’d have to play. There was no possible way of getting out of it without insulting Lord Brentworth or Lord Martin or both.

  She managed what she hoped passed for a smile but feared was really more of a grimace as father and son set the game up before her. She detested playing chess with Lord Martin. The man was a dreadful opponent. He tried to put himself in check at least once per game and seemed to be under the impression that being bested by a woman in under ten moves was quite acceptable if those ten moves were dragged out over the course of several hours. She’d never met anyone who took such an excessive amount of time at his turn.

  She’d rather hoped the embarrassing spectacle in the music room would lessen his interest a little. But honestly, if the man wasn’t to be dissuaded after more than three years of clear disinterest and two rejected offers, a broken piano bench wasn’t going to see the job done.

  “This is nice, isn’t it?” Lord Martin remarked, taking his seat.

  “Hmm,” was the best she could manage.

  “We’ve not spent much time together these last few days.”

  “I suppose we haven’t.” That had been exceedingly nice.

  “You’ve been preoccupied.”

  She barely refrained from raising a brow at his peevish tone. He was jealous. Very jealous if the pouty set of his lips was any indication. She considered that as she moved a pawn forward to start the game. People were often rash and foolhardy while under the influence of jealousy. Lord Martin, already prone to silliness, was no doubt particularly susceptible to that pitfall.

  She shouldn’t, she told herself. She really shouldn’t.

  Oh, but it was such an ideal opportunity. And she wouldn’t be breaking a promise to Hunter, not really. She had tried to keep her distance from Lord Martin, and she wasn’t looking to charm information from the man. She was looking to goad him, which was entirely different. Under the current circumstances, it was also entirely irresistible.

  “I have been rather anxious,” she said with a small sigh. “My brother’s birthday is only weeks away, and I’ve yet to find a suitable present.” It wasn’t an outright lie. Whit’s birthday was fast approaching, and she hadn’t yet settled on a gift for him. The fact that she wasn’t at all anxious about the matter was a minor detail.

  Lord Martin’s lips relaxed into a pleasant smile. “Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll think of something.” He turned his attention to the chessboard. “Ask your mother to purchase a gift for him.”

  She wanted to ask him how that would make it a gift from her, but knew that would not lead the conversation in the direction she sought. “I suppose I could, only I’d rather hoped to come up with something myself. A new cravat pin, do you think?”

  “I’m sure that would be adequate. I just purchased—”

  “Oh, adequate won’t do. Not for Whit. It must be something special. What of new handkerchiefs? I could embroider them.” She shook her head and continued before he could comment. “No, I gave him those two years ago. A fine brandy? Oh, he would adore that. Pity one can’t find some sensibly priced…” She trailed off, as if embarrassed to have mentioned the subject of money. She began to fiddle with one of her pawns. “Never mind. Maybe I should ask Mr. Hunter to help me choose a new epee, instead.”

  Lord Martin’s head snapped up. “I can help you.”

  “Hmm?” She looked up from her pawn and gave him a distracted and decidedly patronizing smile. “Oh, yes, of course. You’re always so helpful, Lord Martin, thank you. Do you suppose Mr. Hunter knows anything about fencing? A new epee is not so ideal as a fine brandy, but he can’t very well get me that. It will have to be the epee. After dinner, I’ll—”

  “I could get you the brandy.”

  She went back to fiddling with her pawn. “That’s very nice of you.”

  He straightened his padded shoulders. “I could. Reasonably priced.”

  She reached over to pat his hand. “Certainly you could.”

  “Tomorrow morning. I’ll have it then.”

  “I…” She drew her hand away, opened her eyes wide and blinked repeatedly. “You’re quite serious, aren’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, good heavens.” She let her surprised expression grow into a delighted smile. “How wonderful. Oh, how fortunate for me. Lord Martin, this is most generous of you.”

  “It’s nothing. Nothing at all.” He waved off her compliment with false modestly. “You’ll…you’ll not ask Mr. Hunter to choose an epee for you?”

  “I’ll have no need now, will I?” In truth, she never had. She’d chosen one herself for Whit last year. Just because she had more sense than to try to use one didn’t mea
n she was completely ignorant of them. Logic such as that would no doubt be lost on Lord Martin. “I can scarce wait to see Whit’s reaction,” she told him instead. “Won’t he be surprised?”

  “You mustn’t tell him where you got it,” Lord Martin said sternly. “You mustn’t say a word of this to anyone.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good.” He nodded once and leaned over the board a little. “It’s not my secret to tell, you see.”

  She didn’t need to affect her shock this time, it was entirely genuine. “It isn’t?”

  He shook his head and changed the subject. “Tomorrow morning, meet me at the bench behind the half wall. Do you know the one?”

  She nodded, still feeling a trifle bewildered by his secret comment. “Yes, I know it.”

  “Excellent. Shall we say five?”

  “Five? In the morning?”

  He nodded again. “That should give me just enough time. I’ll bring a barrel of brandy, you bring—”

  “A barrel? How are you going to bring an entire barrel of brandy?” And what on earth did he expect her to do with it once he had? Hide it in a reticule?

  “Oh, right.” A line worked into his brow.

  Good heavens, the man was such a twit sometimes. She would have found it impossible to believe he was involved in a smuggling operation if he hadn’t, in that very moment, been offering her smuggled goods.

  “Right.” Lord Martin continued. “Just bring the money, then. I’ll—”

  He broke off at the sound of Hunter’s voice. “Good morning, Lady Kate, Lord Martin.”

  Kate turned away from Lord Martin as Hunter came to stand before them. She’d been so engaged in her small act of espionage, she’d not noticed his entrance. He didn’t appear angry at discovering her in the midst of a chess game with Lord Martin. How lovely he’d not presumed she had orchestrated the game. Pity his good humor with her was sure to be short lived.

  His eyes dipped down to the board, and Kate’s lone pawn moved out of its starting position. “My apologies for interrupting what I’m sure is an engrossing match, but Lady Thurston would like a word with you, Lady Kate.”

  She searched for a way to indicate that she needed just a few more minutes—a wink or nod or gesture. Surely there was something. To her dismay, the best she could come up with was the question,

  “Which one?”

  He blinked once. “Which one?”

  “Yes, which Lady Thurston? Mirabelle or my mother?” She happened to know that both Lady Thurstons were currently to be found in the dowager Lady Thurston’s chambers with Mrs. Summers, but she’d bet a week’s allowance neither of the gentlemen before her were aware of it.

  “Both,” Hunter replied, a coolness creeping into his tone. “They’re in the dowager Lady Thurston’s chambers.”

  “Oh.” It was fortunate she wasn’t given to making wagers. “Right. Er…”

  “They’re waiting, Lady Kate.”

  “Yes…yes, of course.” She rose from her chair. “Do excuse me, Lord Martin.”

  Hunter ushered her out across the foyer, past the front staircase and down the hall—all in silence.

  Kate bit her lip and glanced up at him. “Am I to assume neither Lady Thurston wishes to speak with me?”

  When his only response was a cold look, she decided to choose discretion over valor and keep her mouth closed for the remainder of their walk down the hall. He brought her to the small private sitting room and led her inside. He closed the door, turned around slowly, and then stood there, staring at her—looming over her—for several painfully long moments. When he spoke, finally, his voice held both displeasure and a world of disbelief.

  “Which one?”

  “I…” Oh, dear. She cleared her throat. “I’d rather hoped for more time with Lord Martin.”

  “More time,” he repeated.

  “Yes.” She took a deep breath and decided to get the conversation over and done with. Perhaps she’d be very lucky and he’d be pleased, even impressed with her resourcefulness. “Lord Martin has agreed to sell to me a barrel of brandy for an unspecified amount of money tomorrow morning. I’m to meet him at the bench behind the half wall at five.”

  By the muscle working in his jaw, it was fairly clear that he was neither pleased nor impressed by her resourcefulness.

  “I’d have known the amount of money,” she was quick to add in a rather frantic bid to delay his response. “But I hadn’t the chance to ask. I hadn’t a chance to convince him to meet me at a time and place less impractical either. He picked the details of our rendezvous with the notion he’d be hauling along an entire barrel of brandy. Are we quite certain he’s in charge of this operation? Because—”

  “Enough.”

  Hunter drew a deep breath through his nose and made an attempt to relax the tight knot of muscles between his shoulders and calm the sick rolling in his gut. He wasn’t going to lose his temper. He was not going to begin issuing unreasonable orders just because Kate had once again put herself in danger. This time by questioning a known smuggler, whom she’d once had a tendre for, and who still had a tendre for her, and who now expected to meet her at dawn so that they might exchange money for illegal goods and—

  “What the bloody hell were you thinking!”

  Very well, he was going to lose his temper.

  She shifted her weight and gave him a hopeful smile. “That the information might be of use?”

  It was, but that wasn’t the point. “I ordered you to avoid Lord Martin.”

  “And so I have, at every opportunity,” she countered. “There was simply no way for me to do so in the parlor. Not without giving him the cut direct in front of a room full of people, and I thought it best to avoid that sort of attention. The rumors that would have resulted—”

  “I also ordered you not to try your hand at charming information from him.”

  “Strictly speaking, you said it was too much involvement. You never explicitly forbade it.”

  The knot in his back grew tighter. “That is—”

  “Also, what I did wasn’t so much charm as goad.” She shifted again. “Strictly speaking.”

  He bent his head to catch and hold her gaze. “I am ordering you, explicitly forbidding you, from doing anything, speaking to anyone, or going anywhere that has to do with the smuggling operation unless you do so under a direct order from me. Do I make myself clear?”

  That, he assured himself, was a perfectly reasonable order.

  Apparently, Kate did not agree. “You’re being unreasonable.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m…” He wasn’t going to let the argument disintegrate into a childish string of accusations and denials. But bloody hell, if she had made herself a target…

  “I am not. And,” he was quick to interject, “if we continue on in this vein, we’ll never get around to deciding what’s to be done with the information Lord Martin gave you.”

  She pressed her lips together as if to physically restrain her tongue. Her eyes narrowed. She took a deep breath through her nose. And then, apparently, she caved.

  “You are.”

  He wanted to laugh. Despite the anger and fear, and the considerable amount of energy it took to keep both under control, he wanted to laugh at that one monstrously stubborn comment.

  “You are the single most bullheaded individual I have ever met,” he informed her and watched her lips twitch. “Are you quite through?”

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “On whether you made that order simply because you’re angry I managed to obtain in five minutes what you and Whit could not in days.”

  That hadn’t occurred to him. Though now that she mentioned it, it was a trifle embarrassing. And he could certainly understand why she’d wonder. He could also see her bringing it up in an effort to shift the focus of blame from her to him. At a guess, he would say it was a little of both.

  Taking her hand, h
e drew her to a chair, and then picked up another to set it close enough for their knees to almost, but not quite touch. He wanted to be near her, but not so near as to be distracted from his purpose.

  “My purpose in issuing orders is not to spite or punish you, Kate,” he told her as he took his seat. “My primary mission, you’ll recall, is to keep you safe. My methods may be different, but I am no less determined than Whit to keep you from harm.”

  “Is…is that all this is to you? A mission?”

  He couldn’t help himself, he reached out to brush the backs of his knuckles along the soft skin of her cheek. “You know better.”

  She gave a small nod, and he let his hand fall away.

  Her hands plucked at a ribbon on her peach skirts. “It’s only that…you’ve asked nothing of me in this investigation but to watch the staff.”

  “I’d have asked you to search the house as well,” he reminded her.

  “You’d have asked me to re-search the house,” she corrected. “It’s not quite the same.”

  “It’s only been a matter of days.”

  “I know.” She sat back in her chair with a small huff. “I hadn’t intended on goading information from Lord Martin. But he was there. Right there and it was so easy. And to have to endure his company and not have him speak of the one thing that interests me about him was more than I could—”

  “I know.” He remembered well the long hours in town with Lord Martin.

  “He’s not at all suspicious, I assure you.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “I can,” she retorted, frustration creeping into her voice. “I’ve known him longer than you. He’s really not at all clever.”

  “I’m inclined to agree.” He blew out a long breath. “An entire barrel of brandy at five in the morning?”

  She nodded. “Oh, and he said something else. He said…” She scrunched her face up a little in thought. “That I couldn’t breathe a word to anyone because it wasn’t his secret to tell.” She relaxed her features again. “That’s odd, isn’t it?”