All You Could Ask For

by Angeline Fortin

  “Jack did not know of that encounter,” Lord Merrill muttered under his breath, eying at Kitty suspiciously.

  “Oh, it was years ago in a romantic garden.” Kitty batted her lashes and smiled up at Francis with her hands clasped to her bosom. “Just the starlight and the orchestra playing in the distance. The romance was wonderfully breathtaking. And then he kissed…”

  “I say,” Jack sputtered.

  “Eve,” Kitty finished, and laughed up at him while the other couple joined in.

  “Why you.” He laughed, and playfully brought back his hand. “Why I ought to—what?”

  * * *

  Kitty could not help it. When Jack drew back his fist, however good-humored the gesture might have been, she flinched away. Not just a wee wince, but a full dodge of evasion. Now she gaped at him in horror as he stared back at her in equal measure. For a long moment, their gazes remained locked while the others only gawked at the spectacle she’d made.

  In a smooth movement, Eve caught her by the waist and turned her back into the room leading her to a sofa and sitting next to her, saying only with a studied nonchalance, “Kitty, dear, you mustn’t exert yourself so much after the long trial of your journey. I can see that you have overdone it and exhausted yourself.” She clucked like a mother hen, pressing a glass of whiskey into her sister’s hand as she turned and chided Jack. “And you, Haddington, I’m sure that you are well aware that a lady in a tightly laced corset can only take so much amusement before she becomes faint.”

  Eve bent her head to her sister’s, and an exchange of whispers passed between them, ending with a quick shake of Kitty’s head as she clenched her sister’s hand in hers. Abby and Moira, aware now of the true circumstances of Kitty’s marriage, chimed in on Eve’s declaration, lightly berating Jack and agreeing whole-heartedly that this was exactly the case, before launching into a full-scale discussion of just how much a lady could take before lack of oxygen overtook her senses.

  Richard, along with the other MacKintosh siblings present—James, Connor and Fiona—looked confused, having not paid studied attention to the exchange, but let the conversation take its course. But while Francis eyed Kitty with perceptive sympathy, Jack studied her more seriously as he recalled the few other instances when she’d flinched away from his touch or sudden movement.

  Bloody hell, he thought as the truth of the situation dawned on him. Bloody, bloody hell!

  He understood clearly, now, the mysterious reason why she’d run away from her husband, why she wanted to keep her presence in Edinburgh a secret. He understood clearly that he would happily do murder to avenge her. A rage welled up in him unlike any he had ever known. What kind of bastard had she married?

  Unaware of Haddington’s rising fury, Kitty managed to rally herself enough to uphold her end of the conversation at the dinner table. Inwardly, she was still simply appalled with herself for reacting so violently to what was obviously meant as a playful gesture. Her response was just humiliating, and she could only imagine what thoughts and conclusions were being drawn in the minds of those present.

  How wonderful a sister she had in Eve. Not only had she provided Kitty the time she needed to recover her senses but offered to leave immediately if she so wished. She refused to give in to this skittish behavior so easily though. She had to learn to cope with her past, especially when she was surrounded by friends and, strangely, she already included Jack in that description.

  What a gentleman Jack was being! Even though he must have been shocked by her behavior and have a bevy of questions, he had nonetheless managed to look particularly unperturbed by the incident and had been as engaging and humorous over dinner as he had on their previous encounters.

  “Kitty,” Abby addressed her from the foot of the table. “Richard and I were going to take in the opera at the Royal Theater tomorrow night. They’re performing Captain Billy as the curtain raiser before The Nautch Girl and we had thought to invite Eve and Francis days ago, but Eve was just telling me that she saw it during its opening run last year at the Savoy. Why don’t you come along instead? Moira, Fiona and the lads will be there as well.”

  “What is Captain Billy or even The Nautch Girl?” Kitty asked, disappointed that she wasn’t familiar with the titles as she so enjoyed the opera. “I had not heard of either of them before.”

  “They’re comedic opera, Kat,” Eve told her with an encouraging smile. “You should go, it’s most amusing. Solomon did the music.”

  Tempted as she was, Kitty leaned across the table to hiss at her sister around Francis on her other side. “I thought we agreed that I would not go out?”

  Eve’s lips twitched a bit. “Well, you won’t, will you? I will, or it will seem so.”

  “Wouldn’t it seem odd, then, if I go to the opera without Francis?”

  Eve’s brows rose and she considered her husband. “I hadn’t thought of that. It would seem a bit odd, would it not?”

  “Nonsense.” Francis shook his head, not really understanding the whole story yet but gathering enough to catch on. “I find that I have suddenly developed an ague. I couldn’t possibly go.”

  “Come on, Kitty,” Moira urged from down the table. “We’ll have a wonderful time. Eve’s seen everything there is to see already. It’ll be nice to experience an opera for the first time with someone who hasn’t seen it, as well.”

  “Do say you’ll come,” Abby chimed in. “Connor and James might hand us off quickly enough, but Richard is a wonderful escort. His snores do not override the orchestra nearly as badly as Francis’ do.”

  “Thank you for the complement,” her husband muttered into his wine. “I seem to recall your own being quite overwhelming from time to time.” He winced when she socked his arm pertly.

  “Very well,” Kitty readily agreed. “I haven’t been to the opera in ages. I shall look forward to it.”

  Chapter 16

  …a lucky guess is never merely luck.

  There is always some talent in it.

  ~ Jane Austen from Emma

  Glenrothes House

  The next afternoon

  “Good afternoon, Evelyn,” Jack said as he strolled into the morning room the next afternoon, seeing the countess curled in a settee with her son. It hadn’t even occurred to him that it might be Kitty reading to her nephew. Strange he felt he could suddenly tell the sisters apart.

  “Haddington.” She nodded in surprise, setting aside the book she was reading to Laurie as he made formal bow to her and her son. “If you’re looking for Francis, he’s gone down to Parliament to hear the arguments for that new railway extension into town.”

  “Actually, I thought to speak with Kitty, if she is available.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, suspicious of his elegant nicety.

  “Nothing at all.” He shuffled uncomfortably before dropping down into the chair across from Eve. He propped his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward, toying with the hat he held in his hands.

  Eyebrows raised, Eve handed the book to her son. “Laurie, love, why don’t you run to the kitchens and find a nice sweet for us to take with our tea?”

  “All right, Mummy,” the boy piped, and made a bow to Haddington. “Good afternoon, my lord.”

  “Good afternoon, my lord,” Haddington answered solemnly.

  Eve watched her son go then turned to Jack, wondering at this contemplative demeanor she had never before seen on him. “That is perhaps the most serious expression I have ever seen on your face, my lord.”

  “Perhaps you can help me, Evelyn.”

  “Me?”

  “I am concerned about Kitty.”

  “You should refer to her as Mrs. Hayes, you know?”

  “Eve, please.” He rolled his eyes, but she was more taken aback by the emotion his tone held.

  “Fine, what can I help you with?”

  “Kitty. She is…” he swallowed deeply. “Her husband beat her.” The statement fell between them like a cannon and she could not stop from m
eeting his gaze.

  “I wasn’t aware that Kitty had apprised you of the true nature of her marriage,” she said finally. Kitty might have had quite a lot to say about Jack Merrill in the past couple days, but Eve had definitely not gotten the impression she had taken him into her confidence. It had seemed to Eve to be no more than a flirtation—why her sister would find him appealing, Eve couldn’t comprehend—but she had attempted to make sure her sister was sensitive to the fact that the only thing that attracted Haddington was a fortune to be had, or a lady to bed.

  Haddington shook his head. “She has not.”

  “Then how…?”

  “Let’s just say that I worked it out on my own.” He toyed with the hat again. Nervously, she might have thought, if she didn’t know him better. “How bad was it?”

  One might almost think that he genuinely cared, she frowned. “I’m not at liberty to discuss my sis…”

  “How bad?”

  She assessed him for a long moment, noting the tension in both his posture and voice. It bothered him a great deal, it seemed, the thought of her sister being hurt by her husband. Perhaps he is coming to care for Kitty, Eve thought, then summarily dismissed the idea. This was Jack Merrill after all. Everyone knew he cared little beyond his own interests. Still, the uncertainty nagged.

  “Her stories would curl your toes, Jack. I cannot provide the details to you. They are not mine to share. If she wants to tell you, she will.”

  “She’s afraid of me.” He confessed his fear in a soft voice.

  “She barely knows you.”

  He shook his head in denial. Somehow, he felt like they knew each other very well. Woman were, in his experience, grasping and manipulative. Never were they forthright and as blatantly honest as Katherine Hayes. Mayhap he didn’t know her well, yet, but he knew well enough that she was worthy of trust and friendship—things that he did not offer freely or without examination.

  Damn, but he liked the lass. It wasn’t often he truly liked anyone, man or woman, but it was much more rare in his world to like a woman. Imagining the hurt she suffered had kept him tossing and turning the night through. If even a portion of what he’d envisioned were true, he’d be hard pressed not to swim the Atlantic himself just to kill the man who had hurt her, maybe ruined her. What kind of life would she have if she shied away from every man who tried to reach out to her? What kind of man would find pleasure in bringing such a spritely lass to her knees?

  It ate at him.

  “Is she at home?”

  Eve just tilted her head and considered him so thoroughly he felt like an insect under the microscope. God help him, he was just starting to fidget when she finally spoke.

  “She’s up in the nursery.”

  * * *

  Kitty was taking tea with Hannah at the little table in the nursery, teaching her even at this early age the way of ladies and how to hold a proper tea, when her eyes found Jack hesitating in the doorway.

  “Good afternoon, my lord Haddington.” She stood and gave him a curtsey, eyeing her daughter who stood as well and made a very pretty, if somewhat tilting, curtsey.

  “Good afternoon,” the little girl piped, pushing her wild tangle of blond curls out of her face with the back of one hand.

  Jack swept his most elegant bow, sending the little girl into peals of laughter. The wee lass was nicely done up in a frock of bright blue that matched her round eyes as she stared up at him. Her long, riotous locks hung to her waist and a dimpled cheek marked her as a most mischievous imp. He was immediately enchanted. And too, she looked so much like Kitty, with the exception of those blue eyes, that he could almost imagine her as a child herself. Could hear the ring of her laughter across the years.

  “Good afternoon, ladies. It appears I am interrupting.”

  “Hannah and I were just taking tea.” Kitty eyed him warily, wondering what he was doing here. She had purposefully skipped their scheduled ride that morning and surely, after the fiasco of the previous evening, a smart man would count himself lucky to be rid of a woman as disturbed as she. Still, he was looking as charming and charmed as ever. “Would you…would you care to join us, my lord?”

  Certain he would decline, she was more than surprised when he announced himself delighted and held out the tiny chairs for herself and Hannah, complimenting their dress and appearance in the most exaggerated gentlemanly manner, before seating himself in one of the child-sized seats. If she hadn’t been so nervous, she might have laughed herself silly watching him bend his tall frame to the table, with his knees sticking out the sides. Her daughter, with no such reservations, allowed herself the amusement Kitty denied herself, and set off in another round of giggles.

  “You’re funny!” the girl declared, pointing a finger at Jack.

  “We mustn’t point, dear, it’s rude,” she chided automatically, thankful for the child’s diversion.

  “Yes, Mama,” nodded the chastised child, “but who is he, Mama?”

  “This is the Earl of Haddington, sweetheart. He’s an earl, just like Laurie and Uncle Francis. Do you remember we talked about those? He is a friend of mine.” Kitty flashed a look to Jack that he couldn’t quite comprehend but he smiled brightly at the wee lass and was favored with a dimpled grin in return. Certainly, he thought, this miss was going to spell trouble for some man in the future.

  “Thank you for allowing me to take tea with you, Miss Hannah,” he said gravely, but added a wink that redoubled her smiles.

  “You’re quite welcome, sir.” Her sweet voice returned the social nicety with spirit. She glanced at her mother to make sure she was correct in her social graces then smiled again, reaching for the teapot. “We are very glad to have you! Would you like me to pour?”

  “No,” Kitty cried, causing both of her companions to jump. She smiled apologetically at her daughter and gave her a pat before turning to Jack. “I’m sorry, she’s just learning to pour on her own and I wouldn’t want a spill to stain your trousers.”

  Jack leveled her with a penetrating gaze that flustered her to the core, as if he could see to those depths himself but, instead of saying anything else, he turned to her daughter. “Just learning, are we?”

  “Yes, sir.” She pushed aside those unruly curls once more, making him wonder why they weren’t bound in braids as most little girls’ were.

  “Is the tea hot?” he asked, watching Kitty’s fretful expression. “I should hate it if you were to burn yourself.”

  “No, sir, it’s just warm.”

  “Very well, then, Miss Hannah, let’s see if you can impress me with your skills.” He slid his cup and saucer forward a bit and gave her an encouraging smile.

  With an uncertain look at her mother, Hannah picked up the sturdy pottery teapot and started to pour, sloshing a bit, this way and that, while Jack watched Kitty from the corner of his eye while she twitched accordingly. Her mouth opened and closed, like a landed fish gasping for air, as she started over and over to speak and would then stop herself.

  After asking over his preferences for milk, sugar or lemon, Hannah finally presented him with his tea. The saucer held more of the liquid than the cup, but he simply lifted the bottom dish and poured the contents back into the cup while the girl was concentrating on her next pour. He could see Kitty relax a bit now as the child finished her pouring, though he could see she still worried for the cups on the table. Knowing what he did now, he knew precisely what was bothering her, what worried her, and ground his teeth, wishing for a target to beat his frustrations upon.

  They finished their teas and had cakes with a round of polite conversation regarding the weather and such.

  When they were done, Jack praised the girl for her skills. “Very well done, Miss Hannah. For such a young lass, that was very well done.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She yawned and tilted her head to the side, pushing aside her hair absently once again. “Will you come again, sir?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Kitty couldn’t d
ecide if he were being sincere or not, but merely waved to Hannah’s new nurse, Betsy, who had been hovering nearby, to take her daughter off for a nap. When she had carried her away, she turned back to her visitor, offering him a jittery smile.

  “What brings you here today? Because I’m fairly certain it wasn’t for tea.”

  “Shall we retire to another room?” he asked uncertainly. “I’d like a moment in private,”

  Kitty’s eyes widened in surprise, but she only nodded as she led the way down a flight of stairs and into the sitting room attached to her suite. Moving into the space, she watched as he hovered hesitantly at the door, before closing it soundly with soft thump that reverberated through her, her brows rising in surprise. It was quite beyond polite doings to be closed in a room with a man, even if he was the brother of one of her dearest friends. Trying to appear nonchalant, though curiosity burned through her, she took a seat in one of the chairs paired before the cold fireplace and indicated the other for him.

  “I had wanted to speak with you, but I’m glad I had a chance to meet your daughter,” he ventured as he sat. “I must ask though, why don’t you plait her hair if it constantly falls in her face?”

  “She won’t let anyone touch it,” she explained. “It’s all Betsy and I can do to get a comb through it.”

  “Ah,” he hummed, then offered, “She is very well spoken for such a wee lass. Very polite.”

  “Yes, she is.” She cleared her throat uncomfortably at the reminder of the tea. “Thank you for being so patient with her. I fear you have quite charmed her. But I would have been horrified if she had spilt anything on you.”

  “Why?”

  “Why, what?”

  “If I sit voluntarily at a table such as that, I consider any damages that might befall my person merely part of the experience,” he explained simply, but could still see the disbelieving amazement on her face. “I do have three younger sisters, you know? Even if I had not gone through this with them, Patrice and Catherine both have young daughters and I will do the same with Abby’s lasses one day.”