“You mentioned my offer to save her reputation earned your regard. You know the duke and I were involved in undercover operations. Some of them were not necessarily noble.”
With a slight turn of his head, Thornton’s gaze pierced his own. “I know you risked your life to save others.”
“With respect, Lord Thornton, it puzzles me how you came by your information, for the duke would not have been your source.”
Thornton stood. His desk was massive, but Thornton dwarfed the oak when he braced his weight on his forearms and leaned forward. “I grasp your curiosity. You prefer to leave your dark past behind, hmm? More prudent not to probe secrets best left buried. Let’s just say I trust you because those I know gave me assurances. And leave it at that.”
Chapter 10
On her second morning home, Kat stood in front of her gold framed mirror reflecting on her whirlwind engagement. As exhausted as she was, she’d been unable to sleep. For a tall, brooding man with dark penetrating eyes invaded her thoughts.
The door to her bedchamber flew open and Charity came running in with her skirts flying about. She threw her arms around Kat, weeping in relief. “Thank, God! I feared for your life!”
Kat returned her hug like a drowning victim who had been thrown a survival line. She knew her best friend would come when she found out she was home.
With a tearful sniff, Charity leaned back. “Are you alright? I was so worried. Tell me quickly before I collapse from sheer apprehension.”
Kat didn’t have time to answer before her friend rattled on.
“Don’t you ever do that again—worry me so. You’ve been gone for weeks. No one could find you. Everyone assumed I knew where you were and was keeping your secret. Once they realized I had no idea, things around here really heated up. I thought your uncle was ready to sport one’s canvas. Your poor aunt looked done to a cow’s thumb. Everyone had to keep your disappearance a secret until we determined if you’d been kidnapped, held for ransom, or . . . Oh, Kat. It was too horrible to think you’d been taken.” Charity’s nerves always did make her a chatterbox.
She tried to reassure her. Especially after seeing Charity’s increasing waistline. Kat’s mind spun from trying to absorb the information that her friend was expecting another child. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I’m home now, and as you can see, I’m fine. You look ready to fall on your feet. Come. Sit.” She gestured to the wide box beneath her window. With a thick cushion and plump pillows, it was Kat’s favorite place to daydream while in her chamber.
Charity pulled at her gloves. “Just a little short of breath from running up the stairs, but I’m perfectly fine.” She unpinned her hat and tossed them both upon the counterpane. “Don’t tell Byron. He watches me like a hawk. He thinks I should stay in bed with my feet up like a good little-mother-to-be.”
Mischievous as a young girl, Charity had grown into an elegant woman. She lived in comfort and adjusted to life as a viscountess in a short time. Her husband believed his job was to sort out the problems of the world, and his wife was to do nothing more than be beautiful. He spoiled her, pampered her. He had an abundance of servants to take care of the household and he’d hired a governess to care for their son.
“He let you out of the house?” Kat said, half-teasing.
“Byron is overprotective. You would not believe the things I have to do to get around him.” Charity waved her hand as though it were more of an inconvenience rather than any real aggravation.
Kat smiled, knowing the viscount was unquestionably and most assuredly wrapped around his wife’s little finger. “Your cheeks are glowing. How are things with little Ethan?”
“He thinks his mama is getting fat.” Charity patted her belly.
“Wait a few months.” Kat laughed.
Charity’s face wrinkled in concern. “I’ve really been worried. When your uncle came to Byron and asked for his help, I nearly swooned. Where have you been? Tell me exactly what happened.”
“You’ve never swooned.” Kat pointed out as she sat beside her friend. “I hardly recognize the girl who used to instigate our adventures. You’ve turned into an old married lady.”
“Pishaw. Old—never. Married—very.” Charity studied her closely. Too closely. “If you want to change the subject, there’s something you’re hiding. Well, don’t think you’ll hide from me.”
Her friend knew her too well. Many times they’d been involved in hair-brained escapades. But nothing like the unbelievable incident which turned her life upside down. The fateful night and the disastrous mistake, which started this bizarre chain of events.
Charity’s interrogating features fell away, quickly replaced with anxious concern. “We used to talk and tell each other everything. Surely, that has not changed?”
No. They had always shared everything. “Thank you for covering for me.”
Charity reached over and squeezed Kat’s hands. “What else would I do?”
Loyal to a fault, her friend’s voice, so soft and so full of warmth, Kat wanted to confess all. Share her burden. Not only the tangible events, but her feelings—the ones she shouldn’t have. Feelings for a man who offered his name in protection. A man who plagued her thoughts like a ghastly disease. Once introduced, the infection spread slowly and with surety.
“I decided to find Captain Danvers.”
“I figured that much out for myself. I know something happened besides the obvious. You disappear and the dashing Lord Whetherford brings you home—which I find very interesting.” Charity’s eyes possessed a teasing sparkle. “Why didn’t you take someone with you? You know better than to make such a mistake.”
“A mistake.” A word that continued to rear its ugly head.
“One that got you kidnapped,” Charity added.
Kat remained silent while she thought about her abduction. And the mysterious Lord Whetherford. Her lids fluttered closed long enough for her to imagine dark probing eyes. A little thrill of excitement tingled down her spine.
“Are you sure you’re all right? Let me see your eyes.” A spark of recognition lit Charity’s face while her intense gaze searched for secrets.
“Don’t be so reproaching,” Kat said. “You’re the one who initiated most of our escapades.”
Acting peeved, Charity sniffed.
“Good grief.” Kat threw her hands up and rose from the bench, bounding across the floor. “I took Alice and she turned into a petrified mouse.”
“Alice?”
Kat paced in the opposite direction, moving her hands as she spoke. “You know I wanted to speak with Captain Danvers. Well, Alice panicked and I sent her home.”
“You should have returned with her. I told you I would go with you.”
“With your protective husband? I don’t think so. Anyway, I would have been fine if those two drunkards had not accosted me.”
Charity shrieked. “Two? Oh, good Lord.” She waved her hand in front of her face as if she had the vapors.
Kat swallowed her remembered fear from when the two men forced her deeper into the shadows of that bleak alley, then quickly brushed it off. “They didn’t hurt me. My rescuer didn’t give them a chance.”
Giving a suspicious glare, Charity asked, “Lord Whetherford?”
“Yes.” Again, his image sprang to mind. Tall, broad shoulders, and black waves surrounding his tanned face. Gleaming dark eyes and his mouth lifting in a slant on one side of his full lips.
Maybe it would be easier to forget him if he didn’t scourge her thoughts every moment.
“He was quite dashing. He came to my rescue like a knight in armor without his steed. He told them to let me go. When they didn’t, he fought them.”
Charity gasped. “He fought them?”
“He was fierce. And fast. So fast. One minute he sto
od there with the look of the devil and the next, the men were on the ground. One of the brutes stabbed him. I shouted a warning but it was too late. He still fought off his attacker. Then he fell to the ground, and I knew he was hurt badly.”
Kat shuddered, remembering the blood on her hands. Blood everywhere. So much blood.
Charity’s hand on her shoulder startled her back to the present.
She took a deep breath and started pacing again. “His men found me leaning over his body. They scared me and I ran. But they caught me, and . . .” She decided to leave out the part about the punch to her face.
“They what? For crying out loud. What?”
Fury embraced her as gripping as when she woke and found herself locked in a strange room. Vulnerable—but not helpless. She whirled around in anger. “They took me to Whetherford Manor and kept me prisoner.” Her hands fisted, knuckles white. Blood rushed to her face. “Lord Whetherford was unconscious for days and they kept me locked in a room.”
“Heavens above! How cruel. How awful for you. How did you survive?”
“Quite well, actually. Until Lord Whetherford recovered and told me I was a mistake.”
Charity’s mouth hung open, but nothing came out.
“Stunned speechless?” Kat asked. “So was I.”
Eyes blazing, Charity rose. “Hold on a moment. I think you left something out along the way.”
Kat shrugged. “As it turned out, they thought I was someone else.”
Emotions flittered across Charity’s face. Bewilderment, uncertainty, irritation, and then anger. “Someone else? They would have imprisoned this other person? Who are these criminals? And they are associated with Lord Whetherford?” Charity appeared as frustrated as Kat had been when she’d reasoned it out. “I don’t believe it. Who does he think he is? A lord simply does not kidnap a woman and lock her up. I don’t care if it was his men. It is not done. They kept you a prisoner? What did they feed you? Bread and water? All this time we waited and fretted. We were right to worry. That horrid, horrid man. What did he do to you? He restrained you for weeks. I cannot believe a titled Lord held you in captivity. Against your will. Wait until your uncle hears of this. Wait until I tell my husband.”
“Stop!” Kat shuddered to think what would happen if her family learned those details. The last thing she wanted was a confrontation between the men. “I told you, Lord Whetherford’s men thought I was someone else.”
Bolted from her harangue, Charity stared with big rounded eyes. “That is no excuse. It simply means they would have apprehended some other poor woman and locked her up.”
Arms crossed over her chest, Kat scowled. “Do you want to hear the rest of my story or not?”
Charity sealed her lips in a grim line—for all of two ticks of a clock. “Did you believe him? Do you have a twin out there somewhere?”
“Supposedly we have the same lustrous red hair.” Kat twined a curl around her finger.
More lines crossed Charity’s brow. “No one has the same shade of red as you.”
“Must be very close. The color of my hair is why they grabbed me.”
Charity flounced over to the bed. “I do not like hearing how they seized you.”
“How do you think I felt?” Kat pivoted waving her hands in the air. “Anyway, once Lord Whetherford explained everything . . .”
“Explained?” Charity’s stunned expression turned to annoyance. “What reason could he possibly . . .”
Kat continued, “It was already too late. Besides, there wasn’t anything I could do.”
Charity’s chest rose and fell in exasperation. “Well there’s certainly something we can do now.” She grabbed her hat, flounced off the bed, and sailed to the door.
“Wait.”
Charity hesitated long enough to secure her bonnet. “I’ve delayed long enough. Lord Whetherford will deal with my husband.”
“There’s no need,” Kat rushed on. “He insisted on offering for me.”
If her intention was to shock Charity again, she’d managed. After several moments, Charity’s shock eased to acceptance. “Well, why didn’t you say so?”
“Lord Whetherford decided—he decided, mind you—we would marry.”
“Please don’t tell me you refused him?”
“Despite the fact he is exceedingly handsome and not at all an ogre, he is an aristocrat. An English nobleman. He became an overbearing, pompous villain when he announced his decision—without my acknowledgement or consent. You have no idea how relieved I was when he broke the engagement.”
“He broke . . . I need to sit down.” Charity returned to the window-box-seat.
“It was not a real betrothal,” Kat hurried to explain. “But he did make an announcement to my aunt and uncle.”
“He . . . never mind. Continue.”
“Oh, he had every intention of marrying me. He convinced me my reputation ruined, so I reluctantly agreed.”
“Reluctantly?”
Kat took a deep breath. “He didn’t want to marry me anymore than I wanted to marry him. Your falsehood saved me from a gruesome fate.”
“Hmmm,” Charity voiced. “Come here.”
Kat joined her on the window seat. Charity took her hands and squeezed her fingers in empathy. Her eyes squinted while—once again—she tried to read Kat’s thoughts. “Are you sure? He did an honorable thing. But, his proposal endangered your freedom. I believe your pride was bruised. You find him attractive, you cannot tell me otherwise. I think something else happened.”
Kat remained silent.
“What a ferocious scowl. You’ll get wrinkles.” Charity’s voice lowered to a soft hush. “What is it you’re not telling me?”
Against her will, Kat felt her face flame. She tried hard not to blink.
Moments ticked by. She swallowed.
“His eyes could be dark as storm clouds or bright as the stars shining in a night sky. Confidence and strength encircled every inch of him—from his thick black curls right down to his shining black hessians. He had an . . . almost dangerous aura. Threatening—yet compelling.” Even now, his image made her weak in the knees. “I can’t explain it. It seemed as if I was spellbound. Mesmerized.”
“Ah, I understand,” Charity nodded.
Kat wondered how, for she had no idea why her emotions were at sixes and sevens.
She had finally managed to meet a man who interested her. Of course, she’d been forced in his presence, and nearly forced to wed. It wasn’t like he had noticed her and approached her out of any attraction. How could he possibly have a fondness for her after such a calamity?
“He offered his name to protect my reputation and crush any scandal.” She turned away and her voice rose in volume. “If it had been an earnest proposal, a real engagement . . .”
“Do I sense a touch of infatuation?”
Pulling her hands free, Kat stood. She padded to the balcony door and stared through the lace curtain. She couldn’t identify her feelings. Enchantment? Attraction? Infatuation? Something pulled her. Allured her. She spoke her thoughts aloud.
“It’s too new.”
Chapter 11
Heat from the flames of the roaring fire enveloped the parlor, chasing away the morning chill. Yet the heat in the room could not reach inside to warm the alcove of Kat’s soul. Even though her eyes glimpsed the shining sun and the cloudless blue sky, she could not see beyond her own fearful imaginings.
Not only had her brother plagued her mind, now the dark lord entered her every waking thought. What would it be like to have Whetherford for her husband? Her skin tingled at the idea. If only she’d met him in a ballroom. If only his proposal had been from the heart and not one of duty. If only . . .
Guilt assailed her. How could she entertain such thoughts when her b
rother was missing?
“Aunt Elizabeth, why hasn’t he come? You know Stephen would never stay away from me this long. Does Uncle Albert think something happened to him?”
Elizabeth set down her embroidery and removed the spectacles from her nose. “You need to stop worrying.” Her gentle voice always soothed. “As your uncle said, Stephen was traveling a little farther this time. Most likely, he has been delayed.”
Kat’s stomach fisted into a knot and she could barely speak for the lump clogging her throat. “But it’s been two years. And if Uncle has Captain Danvers searching, he must be worried too? Stephen’s ship may be lost. What if he’s hurt?”
“Perhaps there might be another reason.” Even though her aunt tried to hide it, the tension in her voice displayed her unease. “Stephen is a handsome man and you know he is getting on in years, my dear. He cannot sail the seas forever. It’s possible . . . he may have met a young woman he cares for. One day he will have a family and . . .”
Kat groaned, interrupting her aunt, “Oh, Aunt Liz, please don’t bring my spinsterhood up again.”
Elizabeth sniffed and cocked her head at an angle. “I was speaking of your brother.”
“You know the focus would have turned to me, as it always does.” This was one of their sore topics. Aunt Liz hinted every chance she got that Kat should be thinking about marriage. Even though this woman was her aunt, like any parent, she wanted grandchildren. Kat rolled her eyes and flung up her hands. “You continue to beat a dead horse. You are once again pointing an accusing finger at me.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s eyes grew round and her hand flew to her chest.
Instantly ashamed, Kat bit her lower lip. Usually a browbeating was all it took to coerce her into behaving properly. Her temper—and this repeatedly tiring matter of her state of matrimony—had Kat’s tongue issuing words out of her mouth before her reasoning could stop them.
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