Kit and Elizabeth

by Tuft, Karen

  “I completely agree,” she said.

  Once inside the shed, he set her down, shut the door, and went swiftly to the cupboard by the bed, removing two large blankets. He wrapped one around her shoulders and the other around himself, then grabbed the flint from the mantel above the fireplace.

  “There is a change of clothes for you in the basket Sterling gave me,” he said. “You can go back behind the screen and get out of those wet things while I make the fire. There are a couple more blankets back there when you’re done, and then we can hang the wet things up to dry.”

  She grabbed the basket and scurried off into the other part of the shed.

  He quickly had a roaring fire going, and although he was blasted uncomfortable in his wet clothes, he went out and retrieved his boots and her shoes, setting them near the hearth to dry. He laid the stockings on the worktable. Their clothes wouldn’t have time to fully dry here; they would have to be properly laundered later.

  This was the gamekeeper’s shed on his property, mostly used during the hunting season, which would commence in mid-August. Nevertheless, the shed was kept in good repair year-round, and Kit usually kept a few changes of clothes here, mostly because of the pond. Kit and Phillip had swum here often as lads and even during vacations home during school breaks, and then they had skated on the ice at Christmastime.

  He could see Phillip and their parents, wrapped warmly in furs, riding in a sleigh down the very lane that had brought Elizabeth and him here so they could enjoy time skating on the pond together. He hadn’t thought of those things for a while; they were fond memories but also bittersweet, with his parents gone now.

  Elizabeth had done well this afternoon, but Kit had yet to discover what had been—and undoubtedly still was—troubling her. He had intended on bringing her here for the picnic all along, having Sally pack the breeches on the off-chance that they decided to climb trees or some such, but now there was a reason to be here beyond simply spending time with her and helping her experience more new things.

  ***

  When Elizabeth emerged from behind the privacy screen, Kit was crouched before the fire, warming himself. His golden-brown hair was dark from the dampness, and his clothes clung to him, detailing the muscles in his shoulders and arms. She’d felt that strength when he’d carried her into the pond and when he’d kept her secure while she’d tried to float in the water.

  “You can go change out of those clothes now,” she said, alerting him to her presence. He turned his head and rose to his feet in one smooth action, and his eyes took his fill of her.

  She wasn’t sure what he could possibly see at the moment that would put that intense, almost hungry look in his eyes. Her hair was dangling around her shoulders like a wet mop. She’d pulled out all the pins and had resorted to combing through it with her fingers after dabbing as much moisture as she could from it with the blanket he’d given her. The dress she wore was an old one that she had kept simply because it was comfortable—Sally would have known that. It was definitely not the latest fashion.

  Kit crossed the room to her. “I doubt you will believe what I’m about to say,” he said, his dark eyes full of a heat that warmed her more swiftly than any fire could.

  “You may be right,” she replied, “but I’d like to decide for myself.”

  His mouth curved up at the sides, and if she hadn’t already known she was in love with him, she would have known it then.

  “You look more beautiful at this very moment, with your hair hanging damp around your shoulders, wearing your simple muslin dress and barefooted, no less, than if you were dressed in satins and furs and diamonds,” he said. “But even more than that, you are beautiful now because I have seen the real you. You, Lizzie. Your heart, your goodness and kindness and strength. And your temper. That is what makes you so beautiful.”

  “Oh, Kit,” she said. She had no other words.

  He kissed her softly and traced her jaw with his finger. “Go warm yourself now. We cannot stay here long, and I am already sorely tempted to hide you away here with me for an eternity or even longer. But it is time for us to talk and see what new things you will be adding to your lists.”

  She had forgotten about her lists. She was beginning to think she didn’t need the lists anymore. But if Kit wished to talk about them, they would.

  She wandered over by the fire and realized that now that she was in dry clothing, she was already feeling much warmer. The fire was cozy though.

  Kit had said they were going on a picnic. She hoped that meant he’d brought food, for she realized she was hungry. She could hear Kit at the other end of the shed behind the screen. “I’m assuming there is food is this basket,” she said.

  “There is,” he said. “And there are plates and glasses in the cupboard.”

  The basket contained a loaf of bread, a round of cheese, two apples, and some cured pork. There was also a sealed jug, which, when she opened it, she discovered held lemonade. She went to the cupboard and took out two pewter plates and mugs, and in a drawer, she found a decent knife.

  “Ah, there’s my Lizzie now, at work in the kitchen,” Kit said, coming up behind her. “This is quite a sight to behold.”

  “As my basket held my dry clothes and your basket was filled to the brim with food, I’m going to assume you had dry clothing here to begin with.”

  “This may be the gamekeeper’s shed,” he replied, “but it is also a favorite retreat of mine, and yes, I keep extra clothing on hand. One never knows when one is going to find oneself in a pond fully clothed, you see. Here, let me do that. I won’t have you inadvertently cutting those harp-playing fingers of yours.” He took the knife from her.

  His clothes, she noted, weren’t any more stylish than her own, and that pleased her.

  He deftly sliced the bread, meat, cheese, and apples, and Elizabeth arranged them on the plates and then removed two more plates from the cupboard for their personal use and set the table.

  “Sadly, there are no forks or spoons,” Kit said. “We must resort to fingers or starve.”

  “Fingers it is, then,” she replied. She picked up a slice of bread and placed some meat and cheese on it and then took a bite. It tasted heavenly, and she ate as ravenously as did he.

  After the vast majority of food from the basket had been eaten and he’d finished off his lemonade, he stood and stacked the dirty dishes and packed them into the picnic basket. Then he went back to the cupboard by the bed and returned with more blankets and laid them out on the hearth before the fire. “Come, Lizzie,” he said, holding out his hand. “Come sit with me.”

  She put her hand in his, and they settled onto the blankets in front of the fire. He reclined on his side, resting his head on his hand, and she leaned back against his chest, her knees drawn up in front of her, her arms wrapped around them. The fire flickered before them, hot and alive.

  “Are you ready to tell me why you were so angry? And are you angry still?”

  Elizabeth had been expecting him to ask her about her likes and dislikes, about what she intended to add to her lists. The reminder that she’d been angry brought those burning feelings back full force. Every muscle in her body tensed as though for battle.

  “Oh dear,” he said gently. “I can tell even without you saying anything what the answer to my second question is. Talk to me, Lizzie. I can’t honestly believe I am actually asking you to do that—me, the man who prefers action to words—but I am, and that should count for something. So talk to me.”

  She fought her way through the anger to try and put words to what she was feeling. It was no easy task. “They named the baby Alexandra,” she said at last, but that wasn’t the reason. Not precisely. What was it, then?

  “Ah,” he said.

  And Elizabeth hunted desperately for the words that explained the anger and the rawness of her emotions.

  ***

&nbs
p; Kit barely dared move. He had the terrifying feeling that if Elizabeth didn’t get to the source of her anger now, it might never happen.

  He felt as though he’d known Elizabeth his whole life. In truth, he had known her his whole life, and he’d picked up bits and pieces about her over time, watching her, listening to Alex. Over the past several weeks, those bits and pieces had fitted into place, giving him a clearer picture of who she was.

  From Kit’s point of view, she was nothing short of exceptional.

  But there was a final piece missing, and it was a huge, painful piece—a critical, life-changing piece. He prayed she would find it, that they would find it together.

  What could she possibly have meant by “They named the baby Alexandra”?

  The silence continued, and Kit began to panic. He’d set aside doing and had been willing to try talking. But they weren’t talking either. He was half tempted to toss her into the pond again—at least then she’d relaxed and opened up more, and his Lizzie had reemerged.

  He picked up a strand of her hair and ran it through his fingers. It was nearly dry now, and the firelight made it take on an orange glow.

  She let out a heavy sigh.

  He waited . . . and waited some more.

  “It isn’t that they named the baby Alexandra,” she said at last.

  He waited again.

  “It’s that she’s a girl, and they aren’t disappointed.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “They rejoice in her. They call the family together and have a big pronouncement, naming her after the marquess’s original heir. It’s almost funny, you know?” Her voice grew louder. “She isn’t blamed for not being male. She isn’t seen as a blight on the family name. She is enough just as she is.”

  Kit laid his hand on the small of her back and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “I have never been enough, although I have spent my entire life doing everything I could possibly do. The perfect daughter.” She laughed bitterly. “But that was never possible, for I could never be what they truly wanted: a son. An heir. And then Papa realized that if I couldn’t benefit him in that way, I could at least be an asset—he was not very careful with his finances, you know, for a duke has appearances that must be maintained. And then, of course, there was the glorious failure of seven cargo ships he’d invested in, all going to the bottom of the sea. You can’t make up failures like that. But I failed him even in that.”

  Now that she had begun speaking, it seemed to Kit she couldn’t stop. “I couldn’t bring the Earl of Halford, heir to the Marquess of Ashworth, one of the richest noblemen of the country, to heel. I couldn’t secure the generous moneys agreed to in the marital contract—a pittance for the marquess, utterly necessary for Papa. And I couldn’t bear putting the subsequent Earl of Halford through it, failing Papa once again. Oh, Papa took it out on Amelia, as you know, but then he left, and Mama made sure I always knew it was because I had failed in my duty.

  “Who was I to be, then, if not the wife of the future Marquess of Ashworth, the perfect puppet of a daughter who had secured her father’s financial security? I was a failure, as I had always been. I was a cipher, a shell, but by giving Anthony his freedom, I was a puppet no longer.”

  “A puppet no longer; that part is exactly right,” Kit said. “A woman stronger than she knows, who was willing to trust an old woman and a reckless young man and see if she could discover a life for herself beyond the constrictions her parents had placed upon her.”

  She shook her head. “I’m broken, Kit,” she said with an angry finality.

  He sat up and placed his arms around her. “We are all broken, Lizzie,” he said. “In one way or another, we are all broken. Let us, you and I, strive together to bind up each other’s wounds and be strong when one of us falters. I have never met anyone with more strength and heart than you, my sweet Lizzie. Marry me, and make me the happiest of men.”

  “Oh, Kit,” she said.

  He’d just asked her to marry him—and that was all she had to say?

  He waited. He had tried being patient, but he was getting so tired of waiting.

  It was time to do something. Time to poke her with the metaphorical stick again. She needed to get her anger out if they were to have any chance of a happy life together, and Kit dearly wanted a happy life with her.

  “Have you got an answer for me beyond ‘Oh, Kit’?” he asked her. “Are you hesitant? Do you think, perhaps, that I am offering to marry you out of pity? Is that it? Or out of some mutual guilt we feel for Alex?” That last question was a low blow, he knew it, but he needed to push her.

  Her face blanched.

  “There are plenty of young debutantes out there, you know, young debutantes”—he heard her suck in her breath—“who don’t come with the baggage of a failed betrothal and a father who had to flee the country in disgrace. Who—”

  “How dare you!” Her face had gone from ghostly white to fiery red at his words. “How dare you say such terrible things to me! How dare you call me old or suggest I need to be pitied. And of all the stupid, terrible ways to propose, you choose a rickety old shed in the middle of nowhere, after subjecting me—against my will, I’ll have you know—to the most ungentlemanly treatment of dumping me in cold, frigid, icy pond water! And furthermore—”

  He smiled at her.

  “Don’t look at me that way!” she nearly shrieked. “And furthermore, no woman wants to be proposed to with her hair all tangled and damp and wearing her oldest dress. I’ll bet you don’t even have a ring. Of course you don’t—this was completely unplanned, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it?”

  He grinned. And then he tumbled her back onto the blanket and planted a hand on either side of her face. “Ah, there’s the Lizzie I knew was lurking behind the daughter of a duke, just waiting to finally break free.” And then he kissed her and kept on kissing her until he knew she was kissing him in return and he could sense the angry tension leaving her body.

  He raised his head and looked at her exquisite, beloved face. “And you are free—free of the past,” he murmured, “and we will forge our future together. Now, tell me you’ll marry me, or I vow I will kiss you senseless until you do.”

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “I’m still angry at you, but I think I will marry you after all—you showed up on my list of likes often enough.” But then she smiled coyly at him, the little minx. “But kiss me senseless first, would you please?”

  “Anything you like, my sweet Lizzie. I’m only too happy to oblige.”

  And then he lowered his head back to hers and was true to his word.

  ***

  “What in heaven’s name happened to you?” Aunt Margaret exclaimed when she caught Elizabeth in the corridor, trying to sneak back to her room. “And where on earth did you and Lord Cantwell go? Everyone asked after you left, but no one seemed to know. From the looks of you, I’m not sure you should tell me.”

  “I had my first swimming lesson,” Elizabeth said, brushing the tangled mess that was her hair off her shoulders.

  “Your first swimming lesson, eh? And how was it?” Aunt Margaret asked.

  “Promising,” Elizabeth replied.

  “Hmm. There is more to this story than you are telling me; I’m sure of it.”

  “All right, then, I’ll confess—” She dropped her voice. “Kit and I also had a picnic.”

  “Soaking wet from swimming, no doubt—and in the rain too. Or did you eat first, may I ask?”

  “We ate afterward. Not in the rain, however; it had stopped by then.”

  Aunt Margaret wagged her finger at Elizabeth. “You are toying with me, young lady, and I am beginning to lose my patience.”

  But Elizabeth wasn’t quite ready to share her secret with anyone—not even with Aunt Margaret. Not until she was properly bathed and dressed and Kit was at her side. Although, she needed to write to the Duke of Aylesham and inform hi
m of her news so he wouldn’t spend his time searching for suitable employment for her.

  She liked the idea of having Kit at her side. It was going on her list. And then she was going to burn the list, for it had served its purpose. She was learning who she was, what and whom she liked and didn’t like, and she had a whole lifetime with Kit at her side with whom to do it. And, God willing, there would be others—children—who would join them on their journey.

  “Just know,” she said to Aunt Margaret, “that Kit and I had a fine afternoon despite the weather, and it allowed you to spend time doting on your grandniece and your adorable new great-grandniece. And if you did those things, then Kit’s and my efforts to get you here to Ashworth Park in time have been well rewarded.”

  “Hmm,” was all Aunt Margaret said.

  Elizabeth kissed her cheek and went to her room. She needed to have Sally draw her a bath. She smelled of pond water.

  The thought made her smile.

  Chapter 19

  The following day, Kit sent a note to the Marquess of Ashworth, asking if the earl might be so bold as to invite himself to supper that evening. The marquess, who was like a second father to Kit, immediately sent a reply back, assuring the earl that he was most welcome to join them anytime, and supper that evening was no exception.

  When Kit arrived, he took Lord Ashworth aside. “I wonder if I might beg a few minutes of your time?” he said.

  Lord Ashworth looked questioningly at him and then nodded. “Certainly,” he said.

  They proceeded to the marquess’s study, and Lord Ashworth offered Kit a seat once he had shut the door.

  Kit cleared his throat. “I have proposed to Elizabeth, and she has accepted,” he began. “But, as you well know, her father is deceased. I wonder if perhaps you might be willing to stand in as Lady Elizabeth’s father on this particular occasion and give your permission to the match?”