“Is it time for presents?” asked Jane with a happy smile.
“Yes, indeed!” Wynbrook cried and reached into his breast pocket to retrieve envelopes for his siblings. “Open them! These gifts were too large to wrap in boxes, so I made a few notes.”
“Oh!” cried Jane. “A new feather bed! Thank you!”
“The set of bays I was admiring at Tatt’s?” Tristan sprang to his feet and jumped up and down in a most unsophisticated manner. “Thank you!”
“Just do not kill yourself,” admonished Wynbrook.
“I shall try, for you. Ah, but what a way to go.” Tristan’s grin was infectious.
“Oh, John, a new pony cart?” Ellen’s face was radiant.
“So you can decide where you want to go,” said Wynbrook. “I had this pony especially trained for you to be able to handle.”
“That is so thoughtful. Thank you!” Ellen grinned at her elder brother with a tear of joy in her eye.
Kate wanted to cry too but for different reasons. Her gifts were shabby indeed compared to those from the master of the house. Ellen, Jane, and Tristan now exchanged gifts, all thoughtful, expensive, and time-consuming. The girls gave handmade embroidered items that must have taken them months to complete. Tristan gave a fancy watch fob to Wynbrook and lovely jewel necklaces to the girls. Of course, Robert and Kate had already received gifts, but they still received embroidered handkerchiefs.
Throughout the merriment, Kate felt herself sinking into her chair. She would have dropped through the floor into the kitchen if possible. Robert gave her a raised eyebrow. She had mentioned at dinner that she had gifts for the Arlington family, but how could she give her poor offerings now?
“We also have something for each of you,” said Kate in a hesitant tone. “I shall just go to my room to fetch them.” She grabbed a candle and left the room on light feet. She had a new plan. She would run up to the room and prepare envelopes for each of them, writing in some large gift. Her original items would be stuffed back in her sea locker and never considered again.
She dashed up the stairs, determined to work quickly to avoid detection. She reached the floor where her bedroom was located and came to a dead stop. Her door was ajar and a shaft of light emanated from it. What was this? The servants had the day off and all the family was downstairs. She pressed herself to the wall and blew out her candle.
Slowly she crept forward. Through the crack in the door she saw two men in silhouette, rummaging through her sea locker. Without making a noise, she removed the knife she kept strapped to her calf. One man grabbed her ledger and ripped out some of the pages.
Kate gasped. He ripped her ledger!
Before she could think, she jumped into the doorway, brandishing the knife, screaming, “Thieves! Unhand those papers, you bastards!”
The men spun, but with scarves wrapped around their faces, she could not identify who they were.
“Dammit!” shouted one of the men. The other dropped the papers and ran into one of the conjoining bedrooms.
“Get back here! It’s just a girl!” demanded the man, but his friend was in fast flight, the banging of the door in the next room a clear indicator that the man had escaped out into the corridor. The remaining thief grabbed the papers and bolted after his friend.
“Robert, John, come help! Thieves!” she screamed. She ran out the bedroom door, knowing the man had only one way out, determined to head him off. She ran to the open side bedroom door and banged it shut just as the thief was trying to make his exit.
“Ow, my nose,” he shouted, along with a foul curse.
Kate had been on ships too often to be affected by language, no matter how offensive. She wrenched the door back open and grabbed the pages out of the stunned man’s hand.
He grasped the wrist of her hand that held the knife and twisted hard until the blade fell. “You give those back, you little—”
“Kate, what is—” Wynbrook appeared at the top of the stairs and let out an unholy shout of rage. He ran screaming down the hall, his face twisted into utter fury, with Robert right behind him.
The man wisely turned tail and ran. Kate clutched the papers to her chest and slumped against the wall in relief. Her brother raced by her without a word, running after the would-be thief who had disappeared down the servants’ stairwell.
Wynbrook was by her side in a flash, wrapping his arms around her. She was definitely not the fainting type, but just for a moment, she leaned back into the warmth of the Earl of Wynbrook.
And it felt good.
“Are you well? Were you hurt?” asked Wynbrook. “Here, let us get you back to your room,” he continued without waiting for a reply. Before she knew it, he had picked her up in his arms, carrying her easily into her bedroom, now in cluttered disarray.
“I am well. Do put me down. I am fine.” The words were spoken without the bite that would have naturally accompanied them. She did not mind being carried about by him, though she knew she really ought to object.
Wynbrook set her gently on her bed and then sat himself beside her, ignoring any shred of propriety. “This is infamy! That a man could be robbed in his own home on Christmas Day, it is the very peak of villainy itself!”
Kate had never seen Wynbrook so enraged. Not even when he was plotting the demise of Sir Richard had his color heightened so. “It is well now. I have my pages,” said Kate, setting a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.
“If anything had happened to you…” He did not finish the sentence but shook his head with gritted teeth.
Kate patted his shoulder again, wondering if his concern would be the same for anyone or if it related to her specifically. Whether from the excitement of the foiled burglary or the man sitting so close to her, her heart skipped along merrily.
“Did they steal anything?” asked John. It was impossible for her to think of him as Wynbrook when he sat so close.
“I do not know.” Kate stood and began to gather the things that been tossed about the room. Her hatbox had been dumped unceremoniously on the floor and she knelt down to retrieve her things. John came beside her to help, and she raced to get her belongings back in the box before he could see. She felt naked before him, her life splashed across the floor.
“Were these your parents?” he asked, picking up a set of miniatures and replacing them in their box.
Kate only nodded.
“You have your mother’s eyes.”
Kate gazed at her mother, the woman she had never known. “She died bringing Robert and me into the world. My father was gone at sea much of our early years, serving as a captain and then an admiral in the Royal Navy.”
“I understand he was raised from a barony to an earldom for services rendered to the Crown.”
Kate looked up sharply, wary for any tone of condescension, but she noted none. “Yes. He discovered a traitor in a Captain Harcourt, who had for the love of money put a flotilla of ships in danger, one of which carried several of the royal princes. My father exposed the plot and saved them from death or capture.”
“He was a brave man, your father.”
“I wish I had known him better. He returned nearly blind from a gunpowder flash that afflicted his eyes. He was sick for a while before he finally passed.”
“I am sorry to hear it. What ailed him?” John asked gently.
Kate paused. “I do not know. After he died, we returned and discovered our fortune had been stolen and we were left deeply in debt.”
John frowned. “Your fortune stolen? Who did that?”
Kate sighed. “We never could find the culprit. It is one thing about my past I wish I knew.”
John put a hand on her shoulder, and his comfort warmed her soul. His eyes met hers, and their gazes held as the clock quietly ticked out the seconds. As if catching himself, he removed his hand and let it come to rest on the nearest obj
ect.
“Is this your brother’s?” asked John, picking up the glazed medal with a white ribbon, edged in blue.
Kate stared at the medal dangling from his hand and said nothing.
“What action was this from?” asked Wynbrook, turning the medal over to read the inscription.
“The Battle of the Nile,” she responded, her throat dry. She had a sudden impulse to tell him, to confess the things she had shut away in the box.
“Got away.” Robert barged into the room, his expression one of disgust. “Rummaged through my room too but took nothing. It does not appear they searched through any other room. Did they get anything?”
“No,” said Kate, swooping the medal out of Wynbrook’s hand and stuffing the remaining items back into the hatbox. “Ripped pages from my ledger though. Why are they targeting us?” An old apprehension crept back up her spine.
Robert came to inspect the pages that had been torn. “The accounts of our latest prizes.”
“Maybe they are looking for an accounting of your treasures.” Wynbrook stood and offered her his hand in gallant fashion.
Kate stared at the proffered hand longer than was the social norm before accepting it gingerly.
“First the attempt on the Lady Kate, then our lodging house, and now this. Don’t like it by half,” growled Robert.
“I suppose the news of your immense fortune has made wicked men bold in trying to claim some for their own. Have you buried any of it anywhere? A secret map perhaps?” asked Wynbrook, his charm returning, though Kate would not soon forget the real flesh-and-blood man beneath the polished exterior.
“Bury the gold and forsake the interest? I should say not!” declared Kate, brushing out her skirts.
“You remind me of your cousin,” said Wynbrook mildly. Kate stared at him, but there did not seem to be any hidden meaning. “He is a master with investments.”
“Quite,” said Robert without a trace of emotion. He looked at Wynbrook and then back to her. “I shall check on Tristan and the ladies.” He turned and left directly.
Kate was aware she had been left alone in her bedroom with the Earl of Wynbrook. Left alone by her own brother, mind you. Kate glanced at Wynbrook to see if he had noticed the breach in protocol, but his eyes had fallen onto the packages on the bed.
“I believe I have found what you came to claim.” John gave her a cheery smile. “At least they did not make off with my Christmas present.”
“Oh, no, those are…those are just small tokens. Nothing really.” She watched in agony as he picked up the one she had labeled for him. “I just wrapped some shells for the girls, and some homespun I made for Tristan, since he seemed to like it so. ’Tis nothing, truly.”
“May I?” Wynbrook held his parcel in hand.
“If you must.” Kate almost couldn’t bear to watch.
He opened it slowly, as if savoring the process of opening a sealed package. It was agonizing but also strangely seductive, watching his nimble fingers work. The paper fell away. He stared at the object and a smile slowly spread on his face.
“It is only a blank ledger book for when you need another,” she said miserably. Why had she thought it appropriate?
“Oh, I know what this is.” He held the blank ledger book close to his chest. “A remembrance of our times balancing accounts.” He gave her a seductive smile that brought forcibly to mind the times those lips had been pressed on hers. “I shall treasure it always.”
* * *
Captain Silas Bones glowered into his ale. He had been so close! Damnable luck to have Lady Kate come up the stairs at that time. A few minutes more and he would have been out of the house.
A gentleman slid into the seat across from him in the dark corner of the working-class pub. By the look of his bruises and two black eyes, it appeared the man’s nose had recently been broken.
“Do I know you?” asked Silas, his hand instinctively on the pistol in the pocket of his greatcoat.
“No, but I know you, Silas. You were at Eton, no?” said the gentleman with a smirk.
He had been recognized. “Who are you? What do you want?”
“I am Sir Richard. I have been watching Wynbrook House, looking for a way to repay them for this.” He motioned to his face. “I watched what you tried to do and how you failed.”
“Piss off.”
“No, you misunderstand me. I am certain you intend to make trouble for Darington and his sister; thus, I only wish to help.”
“Help how?”
“I have information. I know where they are going, how they will get there.”
Silas shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “So tell me.”
“First, we discuss the price.”
So it was like that. “Fine, let us step outside,” suggested Silas. He got up, remembering his social graces, and led Sir Richard out the back way, to a dark alleyway.
“Now about my price—” Sir Richard stopped speaking abruptly as Silas shoved his pistol into Richard’s face.
“I would like to make a bargain with you,” said Captain Bones mildly. “But you see, I find myself a bit embarrassed of funds. What could I possibly give you in return for your valuable information?”
“Don’t kill me,” pleaded Sir Richard.
“Not kill you? Well, I suppose I could do that. Would that satisfy you?”
“Y-yes, yes. Wynbrook and family will be traveling soon to Arlington Hall. I can give you the address. I know the posting houses. I know the routes.”
“Keep talking,” said Silas with a smile.
Sixteen
“Are you sure you want me to stand up with you?” Kate was certain that Jane would change her mind if she only thought about it more carefully.
The week after Christmas had gone smoothly enough. Wedding clothes and all the things apparently needed to complete the bride’s trousseau were collected. Jane and Gareth had been celebrated at an engagement ball, and society quickly moved on to juicier gossip. Kate saw Wynbrook often, though always in company and always much engaged in managing his sister’s upcoming nuptials.
Security in the house had been increased. Robert had taken to patrolling the grounds with a rifle on his shoulder and a sword strapped to his side until he’d terrified more than one caller come to pay respects to the bride, and the ladies of the house had politely asked him to desist. In any event, the entire party decamped to Arlington Hall, their country estate, and the concerns of brazen London thieves were pushed aside.
Kate was beginning to enjoy spending time with Jane and Ellen, and apparently the feeling was mutual. The unfortunate part of this was that Jane asked Kate to be one of her bridesmaids—an honor Kate would have been happy to forgo. Why would anyone want her to be on display at their wedding? It defied explanation. And the gown that Jane had chosen defied something else entirely.
“Of course I want you here with me,” said Jane, smiling radiantly as Anne fixed a wreath of flowers on her head. It was the morning of her wedding and Jane was as beautiful as only a bride could be. “If it wasn’t for you, I would be marrying that wretch Sir Richard, not my true love.”
“But…” Kate struggled to come up with some reason why she could not perform the requested office. “Surely there are others more deserving of the honor than myself.”
Jane gazed at her reflection in the looking glass and smiled at the pretty picture that she indeed was. “I cannot wait to be wed!” She punctuated this statement by floating about the room in a dizzying, blissful haze. She had the coloring and the demeanor to make her chosen color for her wedding gown—a pale-pink blush—appear positively glowing.
Not trusting Kate’s questionable fashion sense, Jane had firmly offered to select the gown Kate wore to the ceremony. The chosen color was a deep shade of pink. Not blush, not salmon, not crimson, but pink. Pure, unadulterated pink.
“
Do you not like this shade?” asked Jane, gesturing to the vision of pinkness. “I know it is a bit bold, but the color looked to me like love.”
“Love” was not a word Kate would have chosen. In truth, the only words that came to mind were not those she could utter before a lady. She contented herself with a long-suffering sigh. While Kate could never be accused of being on the right side of fashion, even she knew that with her coloring, such a shocking pink gown on her was nothing short of a travesty.
Kate took a deep breath. She’d been asked to do many difficult things in her life. But somehow those paled in comparison to the bright pink monstrosity. Yet none could accuse her of cowardice and so she dressed herself in the bright pink gown, trying to avert her eyes.
She thought the worst was done, but then lady’s maids appeared, wielding curling irons straight from the fire. Kate took a gulp and remained perfectly still for fear of being branded. The maids merrily chatted with each other while holding burning instruments of torture a mere whisper from her skin. Finally, they deemed her torment complete by placing a wreath of pink flowers on her head. Kate did not need to look in the glass to know she looked a fool.
It was time to leave, so Kate went downstairs to inform the rest of the party the bride was ready. She scrunched her nose at the odd feeling of wearing this new gown. The previous gowns she wore had not been quite so tight, nor had they required such rigid stays to hold everything in place. Despite wearing multiple layers underneath, the silk-satin gown did not rustle in a familiar way but rather slinked noiselessly and glossy smooth. If she ever were to commit a crime, satin would be the right choice for her attire.
“My word! Lady Kate?” The Earl of Wynbrook stared at her from the bottom of the stairs. He was impeccably dressed in a double-breasted gray tailcoat, but his eyebrows were raised almost to his hairline.
Kate stopped abruptly in the middle of the stairs, wondering briefly if it was too late to turn and run. There was no hope for it, so Kate cleared her throat and continued her descent. “Lady Jane is dressed and ready for the ceremony to commence,” she said, hoping to direct his thoughts to the activity at hand.
If the Earl Only Knew (The Daring Marriages) Page 13