“Because you are not yet entirely over him,” Maura said sympathetically.
Ducking her head, Kate repressed a sigh. “I will have to be over him. He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love me in return. Even so, I am concerned about him. I can’t help thinking he deserves better than a mere convenient marriage. I don’t want him to become the victim of fortune hunters and title seekers.”
“Which may be the case.”
“Yes. It began last night.”
“At the soiree I missed because Stephen was fretful?”
“Yes. Do you remember Julia, Lady Dalton? The gossip rags refer to her as Lady X.”
“Isn’t she the wicked widow of a baronet? The one who was Quinn’s paramour for a short time and caused a public scandal?”
“The very same.” Kate tightened her jaw at the memory of the raven-haired beauty. “Lady Dalton approached me last night to quiz me about Deverill. Not only does she claim a long acquaintance with him, she practically boasted about her intention to pursue him now that he is a lord.”
Maura frowned. “I thought she currently has a protector.”
“She does, but he is a ‘mere’ commoner. Her brazenness galls me. She tried to come between Quinn and Venetia two months ago, and now she has her roving eye pinned on Deverill.”
“Was he intimate with her in the past, do you think?”
“I don’t know. And truly, his former liaisons are not my business.” Kate shrugged in frustration. How was it possible that she felt so protective of Deverill—and worse, so jealous? It would be far easier if she didn’t like him so blasted much. If she didn’t still have irrepressible feelings for him.
Kate scoffed silently at herself. She had seen nothing of him in six years, and suddenly she couldn’t stop dwelling on him? How pitiful.
During his absence this week, she had kept busy with prosaic activities—riding and social functions in particular—remaining out late in the evening and falling into bed exhausted so she wouldn’t have to think about Deverill. All her efforts were for naught, which vexed her to no end.
She had done everything in her power to forget him, but she couldn’t keep him from stealing her dreams…or overwhelming the quiet moments of her waking hours.
Muttering an oath, Kate squared her shoulders and turned away from the window. She was self-sufficient and independent-minded, perfectly capable of arranging her affairs without relying on anyone else for her happiness. She did not need Deverill to enliven her life or satisfy her longing for adventure and passion. And she most certainly refused to pine after any man, even him, or worry about his past relationships with wanton beauties like Lady X.
Still, she was glad when her brother returned the next day and reported on the happenings in Kent.
“I am impressed with Deverill’s willingness to accept responsibility and do right by his dependents,” Ash told her. “He is plainly serious about learning his role as Baron Valmere. Furthermore, he’s a quick study, so I’ve had an easy time advising him. He’ll return to London by midday tomorrow, by the way.”
Although also impressed by Deverill’s efforts, Kate deplored how her heart leapt at his impending return. When, the next afternoon, she received his note saying he hoped to ride with her in the park early the following morning and break in his new boots, she quickly wrote back agreeing, conditioned on his suitable attire.
She found herself waiting with breathless anticipation for his arrival at eight o’clock, and when Deverill strode into the drawing room, the impact of seeing him was as intense as ever—as if she’d been struck in her core by a bolt of lightning. His bold, dark eyes locked with hers, and suddenly all she could think of was him.
Then her own eyes widened at his appearance. Most men did what she wished of them, but surprisingly, he had followed her every dictate, and his sartorial elegance surpassed all her expectations.
His curling black mane had been marginally tamed by a shorter cut. His exquisitely tailored green coat, buff breeches, and shiny Hessian boots molded his tall, athletic form to perfection. And a pristine white cravat set off his bronzed features.
The combined effect turned Deverill into a rugged Adonis who made her pulse race.
“Do I pass muster?” he asked, seeing her scrutiny.
Though silently admiring his splendor, Kate flashed a vague smile and answered dispassionately, “You do look more civilized. Doubtless you will make the society mamas swoon.”
Amusement tugged at his mouth. “I am more interested in making their daughters swoon.”
An easy task if my response is any indication.
Kate banished the wayward thought. It vexed her that Deverill could still make her want him without even trying, especially when she’d vowed to remain immune to his irresistible allure.
He, however, was scrutinizing her in return. She had bound her tresses into a chignon and donned a jaunty, plumed, military-style hat. His approving gaze swept over her forest-green riding habit, then returned to her face. “That color complements your eyes.”
Ignoring the feminine thrill of his masculine praise, Kate murmured a polite thank-you, then gathered her gloves and put them on as she led the way outside, where their mounts awaited.
“Your chaperone won’t be joining us?” Deverill asked.
“Nell doesn’t enjoy riding. I have a dependable groom who regularly accompanies me on my morning rides.”
“Are you permitted to be alone with me?”
Her mouth curved at his taunt. “We will hardly be alone in a public park with my groom following behind. Besides, it is a shrewd tactic for me to take you riding and show you off. We want to incite curiosity and interest and tantalize prospective candidates. This morning I will present you to only a few people, but I’ve already put out word with the busiest gossips that you are looking for a bride. That by itself will garner you immediate attention wherever you go.”
Her groom stood in the drive, holding the reins of her flashy chestnut mare and his own sturdy cob, while a footman held a strapping gray for Deverill. Deverill helped Kate mount her sidesaddle, and when he had swung up on his own horse, she led the way from Grosvenor Square, through the elegant streets of Mayfair to Hyde Park, with her servant trailing respectfully behind, far enough for their conversation to remain private.
“This is more satisfying than convening in your drawing room,” Deverill observed. “I hoped to see you without your watchdog hounding my every action.”
“Nell would make a poor watchdog since she has no teeth,” Kate said, smiling, before steering the topic to a safer one. “How did you find the Valmere estate?”
Deverill looked thoughtful. “It was in better shape than I expected.”
“I must commend you. Ash spoke highly of how you are meeting the obligations that come with noble privilege.”
“I am happy for his guidance.”
“I shall have him attend your formal debut. His friendship and patronage can only help you become accepted.”
“It already has,” Deverill said. “I was welcomed more graciously than I anticipated. Lady Melford and her daughters didn’t seem overly distressed that the title and lands have changed hands and left them financially at my mercy.”
“Because they were raised to believe that the laws of primogeniture are the natural order of things—and because, according to Ash, you provided them with an extremely generous settlement. I know Barbara Melford but have yet to meet her two daughters. Harriet and Mary are too young to be out in society yet.”
“Lady Melford agrees that it is fitting for a man of my age and circumstances to settle down.” Deverill glanced over at Kate, as if judging her response. “Now that I’ve dealt with my first priorities, I can turn to providing a mistress for the estate.”
Kate was not happy to be reminded of Deverill’s desire to marry someone else, or that her emotions were such a confusing mess of contradiction. She ought to be pleased by this proof that he was serious about conquering the British upper class
.
She shook off her ridiculous pang of jealousy. “I have identified seven possible candidates. Two I would categorize as ‘obedient’ in nature. Two more are fairly ‘docile.’ But you should beware of getting what you wish for. I doubt you truly want a meek wife. You would be bored witless.”
“Perhaps.”
“I think compatibility is vitally important when making a match,” she began, then caught herself. “But, of course, the decision will be yours.”
“You are all consideration, allowing me to choose my own bride,” Deverill said dryly.
Kate continued as if he hadn’t mocked her. “I plan for you to meet all the contenders over the next week. To that end, I’ve accepted invitations for a musical evening, two balls, a tea, and an afternoon garden party.”
Deverill looked pained. “A tea? Must I?”
“Yes, indeed. I intend for you to take the ton by storm. Your formal debut is set for tomorrow night, but if you now have an adequate wardrobe, you could accompany me to a ridotto tonight. I am also trying to secure vouchers to Almack’s—which are London’s premiere assembly rooms, if you didn’t know.”
“Isn’t that where you are required to dress properly and toady to the hostesses?”
“Yes. Jack was once refused entrance for not wearing proper evening attire. And two seasons ago I was banned altogether.”
“Whatever for?”
“I antagonized one of the patronesses by waltzing without permission.”
“How shocking,” Deverill drawled in mock dismay. “What were you thinking? You said you were determined to remain circumspect.”
“I am now, but not two years ago when the waltz was coming into vogue. It was considered highly scandalous then.”
“And you Wildes have always courted scandal.”
“Not intentionally. We just don’t allow the threat of scandal to dictate our every action.”
Deverill’s gaze sought hers. “Is that what you are doing now? You don’t seem to be living life on your own terms. Instead you are letting yourself be stifled by strictures.”
Before she could respond, they reached the entrance to the park. Personal conversation became impossible when a number of other riders stopped Kate to speak to her. After making introductions, she turned onto Rotten Row and urged her mount into a canter. Deverill easily matched her gait, and when she pulled up, there were more greetings and introductions.
To Kate’s mind, only one sour note occurred during their excursion: They came across Lady X driving her phaeton with one of her female friends—a rare, early-hour appearance that was likely no mere coincidence. Kate wouldn’t put it past Julia Dalton to be lying in wait for Deverill.
When the widow expressed delight at his return to England and invited him to call on her “to renew our acquaintance,” her suggestive tone grated on Kate’s nerves. But Kate held her tongue when they parted ways and refrained from asking Deverill about his relationship with the witch.
Otherwise, she was relatively satisfied with the progress of her plan. By the time they left the park a half hour later, Kate pronounced herself pleased. “I knew you would be a curiosity,” she told Deverill.
“I was not the chief attraction. Your many beaux were eager to win your attention.”
And the ladies were eager to win yours.
Unexpectedly, Deverill returned to their former conversation. “Are you satisfied with your life?”
Not entirely was her first thought. She wanted to feel as if she was truly living, not simply letting life pass her by, as it seemed now. “For the most part.”
“You used to run barefoot and wear your hair down.”
“That was in the country, when I was much younger and carefree.”
“And independent.”
“No doubt my independence came from being raised by my bachelor uncle and having three older brothers and cousins.”
“If I recall, you can swim and ride as well as your brothers, and play cricket, too.”
“Because they were always short of players. I confess, I am also a fair hand at archery, swordsmanship, shooting a pistol, and even a little fisticuffs.” When his eyebrow rose, Kate smiled. “Ash thought it important for me to be able to defend myself.”
“Remind me never to challenge you.”
She doubted Deverill meant it literally. With his teasing provocations, he had always challenged her and encouraged her rebellious tendencies.
“I would think you fret under your current restrictions,” he remarked.
“Sometimes,” Kate agreed. After her humiliation with Deverill, she’d learned to curtail her rasher inclinations and act with more prudence. “But I am resigned now to being practical. Society imposes vastly greater limits on ladies, but there is little to be gained by fighting it.”
“American women are freer to disregard the rules. In fact, America is a more equal society in general, without such vast differences between classes.”
She glanced over at Deverill, wondering at his sudden philosophical mood. “True. To our discredit, we English overly esteem rank and status. But you can use our class prejudices to your advantage in your search for a bride. Your title is a prime matrimonial inducement. It is only natural that women will pursue you for the chance to join the nobility.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“Of course, there is your wealth.”
“And my dashing appearance also,” he prodded good-humoredly.
“Well, you are a handsome, virile man.”
“You find me virile?”
Disregarding his laughing eyes that made a jest of humility, Kate gave him a brief perusal. Deverill possessed an air of breathtaking virility that commanded attention, while his melting masculine charm was potent enough to capture the iciest of female hearts. “I am only pointing out your attributes as others see them.”
“What other attributes do you see?”
She gave a snort of exasperation. “You well know your attractions, Lord Valmere. You don’t need me to puff up your vanity. You would do better to worry about concealing your many flaws.”
A chuckle shook his chest. “Pray, don’t spare my feelings.”
“What feelings are those? Yours seem impermeable.” Kate met his warm eyes and laughed in return. “You can be supremely aggravating, you know.”
“As can you. You are still set on turning me into a milquetoast.”
“Only for your own benefit.”
Deverill made a tsking sound. “Your brother warned me that when it comes to matchmaking, you are the embodiment of a meddlesome female.”
“I merely want to make a valuable difference in people’s lives.”
“And you never do anything by half measures.”
“What is the saying? If it is worth doing, it is worth doing well….Which reminds me of an issue we need to discuss. I wish you would find someone to marry you for yourself rather than for your fortune or title. No doubt countless ladies will fall all over you, but for superficial reasons.”
His look turned considering. “You aren’t fixed on wedding a nobleman yourself, are you?”
“No, but I put less store in lineage than most of my acquaintances. We Wildes can trace our bloodlines back to the Normans, but while roots and blood kinship are important, ties of friendship and love are much more vital to me.”
Deverill shook his head. “I told you, love isn’t a requisite for my marriage.”
“I remember. But you should want love. If you put your mind to it, you could even have the special kind of love that most of my family have found.”
A muscle flexed in his jaw. “My parents had a strict marriage of convenience. Love played no part in their arrangement.”
She frowned. “My experience was vastly different from yours, thank heaven. My parents were madly in love.”
At the memory, Kate felt the old ache again. She knew what it was like to lose loved ones, to feel alone, to yearn for love to fill the hole in your heart. “Loss can change
your perspective. So can growing up without a mother.”
His gaze grew thoughtful. “That I cannot relate to. But my own mother was rather cold and indifferent.” Kate frowned at his revelation, even before Deverill added, “My father was just as cold in his own way, strict and autocratic. I confess I always envied your family’s closeness.”
His tone was surprisingly sober, which roused a powerful surge of sympathy in Kate. “I am sorry your family was not so warm and loving as mine.”
When Deverill caught her watching him, his somberness abruptly disappeared. “I know—you are a hopeless romantic.”
She flashed a smile. “I willingly admit it. It offends my sensibilities for you to marry for mere convenience. I have seen it over and over again. Love makes an enormous difference to the chance for a happy marriage.”
“I doubt I can summon the tender emotions you consider so crucial.”
He thought himself incapable of love? Kate wondered. “Even if you cannot form a strong affection for your wife, you could attempt to elicit hers. For a union to be successful, a meeting of hearts and minds is invaluable.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“If you want your wife to care more for you than for your fortune and title, you will have to win her heart.”
“And just how do I manage that?”
“Well…you could start by wooing her.”
He was silent for a moment before responding unexpectedly, “I think you should teach me.”
Kate gave him a questioning glance, and Deverill explained, “You are the expert in romance. You know how an Englishwoman wants to be courted, and what she wants from a suitor.”
It puzzled her, why Deverill would ask her to tutor him when thus far he had resisted her efforts to change him more than superficially.
When she didn’t reply, he pressed her. “Who else can I call on for help? No one else would dare to take me on.” Seeing her continued hesitation, he added, “How difficult can it be?”
“To convert a vexing American privateer into the ideal suitor who can win an English lady’s heart?” she said lightly. “Exceedingly difficult, I would imagine.”
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