A Kiss in the Dark

by Kimberly Logan

  The Marchioness of Overton let her haughty gaze travel about the room once before her frosty blue eyes settled on Deirdre with clear disapproval. "You," she said, rather contemptuously. "You're that Rotherby creature."

  Feeling at a distinct disadvantage lying on the sofa, Deirdre swung her legs about and pushed herself to a sitting position, ignoring the pain that streaked through her back as the movement pulled at her stitches. She glanced at Emily, but there would be no help from that quarter. The girl was staring at her aunt with a dazed expression, her mouth hanging open.

  "Yes, I'm Lady Rotherby" Deirdre replied in as po­lite a tone as she could muster. "And you must be Lady Overton. Forgive me if I don't rise to greet you, but—"

  "So, it's true." As if Deirdre's words were unimpor­tant, Lady Overton spoke right over the top of her. "When I received Elmira's note, I couldn't believe it. But she was right, after all."

  "Right about what?"

  Deirdre couldn't restrain a soft sigh of relief when Tristan suddenly appeared in the doorway that con­nected the sitting room to his study. Looking hand­some and elegant in a snug-fitting coat of bright blue superfine and dark breeches, he strode into the cham­ber with an almost nonchalant air, seeming not at all bothered by his aunt's unexpected appearance.

  "Hello, Aunt Rue." He paused to brush a kiss against the marchioness's cheek before crossing to lean against the arm of the sofa next to Deirdre, his pres­ence at her side bolstering her courage.

  "Precisely what was Lady Maplethorpe right about?" he asked, one eyebrow winging upward in­quiringly. "I'm curious."

  Lady Overton pursed her lips and studied her nephew with narrowed eyes. "Her most recent letter informed me that not only had you managed to lose yet another governess but apparently you've been seen in the company of some rather nefarious-looking indi­viduals several times in the past week. In fact, they've been noticed coming and going from this town house at all hours of the day and night."

  Deirdre bit her lip. That was her fault. She'd had several visitors in the last few days. Among them had been the Rag-Tags, Lilah, and even Dan, who had sur­prised her by turning down any payment for his ser­vices and who had departed with a gruff promise to stay in touch. Cullen had even taken up residence in the lower servants' quarters, refusing to leave his mis­tress's side for more than a few hours at a time.

  The marchioness was still speaking, her words growing colder as her gaze settled on Deirdre once again. "She also mentioned that there have been nu­merous whispers of your association with a well-known widow of questionable reputation. And I arrive to find that not only is it true, but you've ensconced her in your own home where she can exert her tawdry in­fluence over your impressionable young sister!" She shook her head. "Thank goodness the Season is over and most of the more influential members of the ton have already departed for the country. I shudder to think what they would make of all this."

  Tristan shrugged carelessly and draped an arm over the back of the sofa, surrounding Deirdre with a feel­ing of warmth and comfort despite his aunt's ven­omous words. "Forgive me for saying so, but I find I care very little."

  "D-don't care?" Lady Overton sputtered, her com­plexion going crimson with outrage. "How can you not? These are the people you will have to associate with if you want Emily to have any sort of acceptable future, and you will never cull their favor by consort­ing with this . . . this—"

  Tristan's brow lowered and he leaned forward, holding his aunt's eyes with his own. "Be very, very careful what you say about Lady Rotherby, Aunt Rue," he warned, his tone dangerously soft. "You're speak­ing of the woman I'm going to marry."

  Deirdre froze, her heart jumping into her throat as she looked from Tristan, to his aunt, and back again. Good Lord, was he serious? They'd never discussed any such thing, but his expression was utterly solemn.

  The marchioness looked ready to have an apoplexy. Sputtering and fanning herself with her reticule, she took a step toward her nephew. "Marry? But—but— you can't do that!"

  "I assure you I can, and I plan on doing so at the first possible opportunity."

  "Tristan—" Deirdre began, but once again the mar­chioness interrupted her.

  "Disgraceful! Obviously, I have arrived none too soon. I knew it was a mistake to leave my niece in your care. Why, Sinclair must be turning over in his grave right now."

  "I'm sorry you think so, Aunt."

  "I have given you every concession," she stormed, beginning to pace in front of them. "I realize that you've spent most of your adult life roaming the coun­tryside, running from your responsibilities, and that you have very little idea of how one behaves in polite society, but this is beyond enough. I cannot in all good conscience leave Emily here to suffer your inadequa­cies as a guardian."

  Tristan inclined his head stiffly. "I appreciate your concern, but I have to wonder. Where was it when my father was out carousing at his clubs until all hours, gambling and drinking instead of caring for his daughter?"

  Lady Overton halted and drew herself up in indig­nation. "How dare you?"

  "I dare because it is true. And if you think I'm going to allow you to take my sister from this house, you are sadly mistaken."

  Deirdre exchanged a joyful look with Emily. Tristan had never discussed with her again his belief that his sister would be better off with his aunt, but until this moment she had been uncertain whether he'd changed his mind about it.

  "Well, we'll just see about that," Lady Overton huffed. "Your uncle wields quite a bit of influence here in London, and once I go home and tell him—"

  "No!"

  All eyes went to Emily, who had suddenly launched herself from her chair and stood with hands clenched at her sides, practically trembling with the force of her emotions.

  The marchioness leveled a chilly stare at her niece. "What was that, miss?"

  "I'm sorry, Aunt Rue, but I said no. And I don't care what society thinks." Emily lifted her chin in defiance. "I won't leave Tristan. I know you're worried about me, and I thank you for that, but you have to under­stand. He was gone for so many years, and we're just now starting to get to know each other. I won't let you take me away from him."

  A deathly quiet settled over the room, and for a long moment no one said a word. Then Lady Overton straightened her shoulders and glared at her niece and nephew.

  "I must say, I'm shocked. This is the thanks I get af­ter everything I've done?" She sniffed. "Fine. I wash my hands of both of you. Mark my words, however. Sooner or later you'll realize this was a mistake, but by then it will be too late."

  With that, she turned on her heel and marched out the door, head held high.

  After a second of stunned silence, Emily laughed and raced across the chamber to fling herself into her brother's arms. "Tristan, you were brilliant!"

  He looked down at her with the light of affection in his eyes. "You were quite brilliant yourself."

  Deirdre smiled at them both. It was so good to see them like this. They still had quite a way to go as far as their relationship was concerned, but she was certain that sister and brother would soon be closer than ever.

  "Did you mean it?" Emily asked, stepping back to search Tristan's expression hopefully. "Are you really going to marry Lady Rotherby?"

  He turned a look on Deirdre that stole her breath. "If she'll have me."

  His sister gave a delighted squeal and whirled in a circle before dancing over to hug Deirdre. "I must go tell the Rag-Tags at once! They'll be so happy! May I?"

  Tristan nodded his consent. "Just be sure to take Cullen with you."

  She started for the door, but Deirdre had noticed something in the girl's manner. Something that had her calling out her name.

  "Oh, Emily?"

  "Yes?"

  "Why don't you try returning your brother's wallet before you go?"

  One corner of Emily's mouth tilted downward in disappointment. "I was only practicing," she muttered, coming back to hand the pilfered object to Tristan.


  He frowned in consternation as he tucked it back into his pocket. "Well, if you ask me, you've had en­tirely too much practice already."

  Deirdre reached up to lay a hand on the girl's shoul­der. "Be careful, dear, and don't forget to take the new book you got for Benji." She paused, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "And say hello to Peter for me."

  Emily blushed a fiery red before departing the room.

  Once she was gone, Deirdre turned back to Tristan as he settled himself on the sofa next to her.

  "I'm not sure what I think about her spending so much time with those boys," he said in concern.

  "I don't think you need to be worried," Deirdre as­sured him. "They wouldn't ever do anything that might cause her harm. They're very protective of her. Especially Peter." She paused for a moment, uncertain about how to approach what was uppermost on her mind. Finally, she took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Tristan, I want you to know that I won't hold you to it."

  "Hold me to what?"

  "Your marriage announcement. I realize it was meant mostly for your aunt's benefit and—"

  He stopped the flow of her words with the simple touch of a finger to her lips. "Deirdre, I assure you I meant every word. I would have asked you before, but I wanted to wait until you were well on the mend be­fore I brought it up. Aunt Rue's visit merely pushed up the timetable a little."

  When she didn't speak, just looked down at her hands in her lap, he frowned uncertainly. "Is there something wrong, Deirdre? Do you not want to marry me? Because we don't have to if—"

  "No, it's not that. It's just. . ." Her voice trailed off. How could she possibly make him understand?

  "Ahh. You wanted a proper proposal. Is that it? I should have known. I've been told females take that sort of thing seriously." To her shock, he suddenly went down on one knee in front of her and clasped her hand in his, the look in his eyes bringing a lump to her throat.

  "Lady Rotherby, I know I can be difficult and stub­born, that I'm blustery and hotheaded and tend to let my temper get the better of me. I also know that it might be hard to believe after knowing each other for such a short time, but I am completely, head over heels in love with you. You hold my heart in your hands, and it would make my life complete if you would do me the very great honor of becoming my wife."

  His eloquence brought tears to her eyes. Never had she dreamed to hear such words from a man. The fact that they came from the man she'd been dreaming of for years only made them all the sweeter.

  "You are all those things, it's true," she said, unable to hold back a beatific smile of pure happiness. "But you are also strong and brave and unselfish. You love children, and with them you are unfailingly patient and kind. You saw through the rumors about me to the real woman I was underneath, and I will be forever grateful to you for that. I love you and nothing would make me happier than to be your wife." The smile faded from her face. "But—"

  "But?"

  "What about you and Emily Tristan? Your aunt is right. While society won't exactly ostracize you if you wed me, they certainly won't welcome us with open arms. I don't want you and your sister to suffer because of me."

  "We won't. I promise you. As far as I'm concerned, I'd be quite happy to stay at Knighthaven for most of the year and avoid London and the ton altogether. Now, come, woman," he growled at her with mock fe­rocity. "Put this impatient beast out of his misery. Will you marry me?"

  Dear God, this was really happening. Her fondest wish was coming true. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her forehead against his. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

  He groaned and took her lips with his own, and for a moment they were swept up in a world of their own making, full of all the passion and promise of a new life together.

  After a moment, however, Tristan drew away, breath­ing heavily. "Deirdre, we have to stop. Your wound—"

  "Blast my wound!" she husked impatiently, trying to pull him back down to her.

  Her vehemence startled a laugh from him, though it was a bit shaky. "No, Deirdre. We have to stop. There is something I need to discuss with you anyway."

  The seriousness of his tone had her pulling back to look up at him with worried eyes. "What is it?"

  He raked a hand through his hair and began to pace in front of her. "I've been thinking about the Rag-Tag Bunch, Deirdre. As much as Mrs. Godfrey seems to en­joy having them, we both know they can't stay at your town house forever."

  "I know. I've been thinking about that, as well. I hate the idea of them going back to some tenement slum in the Fields, but as of yet I haven't been able to hit upon a workable solution."

  He stopped and faced her. "Actually, I have a sug­gestion. As part of my inheritance from my mother, I was left a house in the country, not far from Knighthaven. It's large and drafty, and I'm afraid it's been rather neglected over the years, but with some work it could make a perfect location for that chil­dren's shelter you spoke of before."

  Deirdre's breath caught. She was scarcely able to credit what she was hearing. "Tristan, are you quite serious?"

  "I would hardly joke about something like that, Deirdre."

  Her face flushed crimson. "I know. It's just that it seems too good to be true. I never dreamed that it could ever be possible."

  "It's not going to be easy," he warned her. "I haven't visited recently to make a list of what repairs are needed, and the roof was in a sorry state the last time I was there, but once it all comes together I'm sure it will suffice for our purposes. It's far enough away from any neighbors that it won't be a problem, and the children will have plenty of freedom to roam."

  "Freedom." Deirdre savored the word on her tongue, certain her face must be glowing. "Thank you, Tristan. Thank you so much."

  "Something else. We'll need someone there to be on hand to look after things. I thought perhaps—" He paused for a moment, then continued, a tide of red color­ing his cheekbones. "After the part I played in bringing Barnaby to justice, the authorities are quite eager to make amends for their lack of cooperation when I first came to them for help in finding Emily. I used a bit of that newfound sway to get them to free Angus McLean."

  Deirdre was stunned. "Jenna and Grade's father?"

  He nodded. "I spoke to him and Rachel yesterday about a position as caretaker of the house. Of course, it will be quite a while before the place is habitable, but he was grateful for the opportunity, and it might be a good thing for him to be able to get his family away from the city and the temptation of so many . . . pock­ets." He returned to his place beside her on the sofa, reaching out to capture her hand in his. "I thought Lilah might want to come along, as well. She'd be able to see Cullen more often that way."

  Her heart so full she almost couldn't speak, Deirdre reached out to wrap her arms around his shoulders, burying her head under his chin. Dear God, he'd done all of this for her. "Do you have any idea how wonder­ful you are?" she murmured.

  She felt him shift uncomfortably. "Well, I don't know about that, but I'm glad you believe it. And I think Mother would be happy to know that the house was being used for such a cause."

  Pushing a little away from him, Deirdre looked up to capture his gaze with her own, cupping his lean cheek with her hand. "You do realize now that none of that was your fault, don't you? Your mother would never blame you for any of it."

  He turned his head to brush a kiss against her palm. "I don't know, Deirdre. I'm trying, but it's hard to let go of it all."

  She caressed his lips with her thumb. "Oh, darling, what do you think would have happened if you had re­fused to go with her that day? From what you've told me about her, she wasn't the sort of person to simply give up and stay home. And Barnaby had apparently been stalking her from her first visit to the Fields. Sooner or later, he was bound to catch her alone."

  "Perhaps. Regardless, I don't think I'll ever be able to look back at what happened without some small measure of guilt. But now that her killer has been stopped fo
r good and I have Emily back, maybe I can begin to put it behind me." His eyes warmed as he gazed at her. "And with you at my side to believe in me, maybe I'll finally prove to myself once and for all that I'm worthy of a person's love and trust again."

  She snuggled back into his arms. "You are, you know. Never doubt it."

  "If I am, it's because of you." He buried his face in the fragrant fall of her hair, holding her close. "You are the best thing that ever happened to me. Who could have believed when this adventure first started that you'd wind up stealing my heart?"

  A small, secret smile curved Deirdre's lips. "Why, my lord, that's what happens when you fall in love with a thief!"