“I very much doubt that.”
She decided a change in strategy was needed, because she wasn’t going to ask questions directly. “Tell me about the fellow with whom you were drinking red wine.”
Wilhelmina emitted a tiny mewling as her cheeks blossomed into a deep shade of crimson. “He’s merely a gent I met there.”
“Merely?”
Her cheeks burned redder. “He makes me laugh.”
Kathryn didn’t want to consider that Kingsland had never made her laugh, that she didn’t even know what his laughter sounded like. Deep, she was rather certain, but did it invite one to join in? He was always so serious, not one for dancing on the beach, or even taking a moment to look out over the sea.
Griff was in charge of his business, still in the early stages of it, trying to make a go of it, and yet he’d found time to show her around his establishment. He hadn’t seemed in a hurry to be rid of her, although that had certainly changed after her nightmare, after he’d taken actions to make her forget it. Anytime thoughts from that horrendous experience on the riverbank threatened, she’d bring forth the memories of the manner in which he’d touched her, tasted her, tormented and appeased her—and they drove the ugliness away. Always. Even when not near, he had the power to bring her solace.
It should be the duke who did so. Perhaps once they were married, once they’d had intimate encounters and she knew the feel of his hands—only she didn’t want to forget the abrasiveness of Griff’s scarred ones. What madness was this, to be so besotted with a man who was incredibly wrong for her?
“He looks for you, you know.”
Snapping out of the musings into which she’d drifted, she furrowed her brow and stared at Wilhelmina. “Why in the world would your gentleman look for me?”
Her light laughter like the ringing of crystal bells trickled forth. “Not my gentleman. Yours. Mr. Stanwick.”
She glowered at her friend. “He is not my gentleman.”
“Is he not?”
“No. As I mentioned before, he’s merely the brother of a friend.”
“Interesting.”
“What is?”
“I would have expected you to adamantly claim Kingsland was your gentleman.”
“Well, of course he is. That goes without saying.”
Her friend leaned toward her. “Is he?”
“Wilhelmina, don’t be obtuse. You know he is.”
“Do you know why I’m a spinster?”
“Because no gent has asked for your hand.”
“Because the right gent has never asked for my hand.”
“Kingsland is the right gent.” She wished her words didn’t lack conviction. “I am not with Kingsland in order to avoid being a spinster. I am with him because it benefits us both, which is how marriages among the ton are decided.” Love was not required of the nobility when they married. In truth, it was rare for it to be a factor at all.
Wilhelmina lifted her cup and slowly sipped her tea. “I certainly find no fault with Kingsland.”
“He is perfection.” Pity she was finding perfection a trifle boring.
“No man is perfection, darling. If you believe that of him, then you don’t know him well enough.”
She did know one man well enough to know he was far from perfection, and yet it was the little flaws that most intrigued her, that made her care about him so much. That elicited every emotion possible within her. That made her feel. That scared her with the strength of those feelings, whether she was angry with him or happy or sad or worried. With Griff, everything was more intense, more immediate. Everything demanded exploration. Everything about him called to her to be an adventuress.
“Kathryn, the choices you make are absolutely none of my business. People marry for myriad reasons. Wants, needs, gains. I find fault with none of them because I do not walk in another lady’s slippers. I walk only in my own. But the one thing I do know is that sometimes in life, we have a chance for something more—perhaps for only a night or an hour or a minute. But if we don’t take it, it can fill us with an eternity of regrets.”
“Have you had a night with your gentleman?” She knew it was rude to ask, but her friend didn’t seem at all offended.
“Not yet, but I will.”
“If, afterward, he is done with you . . . how will you deal with that?”
“I shall mourn for a while, I suppose, but then I shall go in search of another. One night with a man who makes me feel like a queen is better than no night at all.”
“If in taking that night you are unfair to another?”
“Do you honestly believe that since he began courting you, Kingsland has not bedded anyone?”
Kathryn felt the heat suffuse her face because Wilhelmina would be so blunt, wouldn’t even pretend to not know who was being discussed. “Women are supposed to remain pure for their husbands.”
“Who decided that? Some man? You are not yet wed to him, Kathryn. You are not even officially betrothed. If you need that one night with another, take it before you are engaged, and it becomes lost to you forever.”
Chapter 18
Griff liked Althea’s new family. He supposed when one began life under challenging circumstances—and none would argue that being born out of wedlock didn’t present challenges—strong bonds developed between those who helped to see you through.
Standing near the fireplace, watching the camaraderie expressed by the six Trewlove siblings toward each other, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of regret that he’d gone years without experiencing the same regard toward his own brother and sister. It was only of late, when their circumstances had changed for the worse, that he’d come to realize he would willingly die for either of them. Prior to that he’d kept his emotions, dreams, fears, and disappointments to himself. He’d never shared how his father had made him feel useless, overlooked.
But watching the Trewloves, seeing the absolute joy with which they greeted each other, listening to the news they revealed and observing their obvious interest, he knew beyond a doubt that these people confided everything in each other, never fearing judgment. He was glad to see them embracing Althea, ensuring she understood she was now one of them.
“They can be a bit overwhelming at first.”
Griff glanced over at the Duke of Thornley who had married Gillian Trewlove, a tavern owner. It had created scandal at the time—all the marriages had—but Thornley was powerful enough to have weathered the storm and seen his wife accepted by those who would have preferred to shun her. “They’re all so comfortable with each other.”
“Not exactly the way we were brought up to be, is it?”
“Afraid not. Pity that.” He’d been introduced to each of the family members, hadn’t sensed them taking offense by his presence. They were all married now, and Althea had included their spouses’ siblings as well, which resulted in half a dozen lords being in the room. All together, close to twenty people mingled about. “I’m glad they’re making Althea feel as though she is part of their family.”
“It’s one of their strengths. Accepting people for who they are themselves and not for who their parents might be or for their sire’s actions in particular.”
“Not seeing after your bastard is hardly a transgression on equal footing with attempting to assassinate a queen.”
“It is if you’re that bastard.”
Griff grimaced, nodded. “Right you are. After all these months, I’m still struggling to reconcile what he did and continue to view it as a major transgression.”
“It was that. You’ll get no argument from me there. But his transgression shouldn’t be visited upon you. Unfortunately, that’s not the way the nobility always sees things. I would have viewed it the same way before Gillie came into my life. It’s difficult not to reevaluate your viewpoint once you come to know these people. In spite of the unfairness life tossed their way, they’ve all met with success. Say, I hear you have a club now. A sort of matchmaking venue.”
He couldn�
�t stop himself from grinning. “I got tired of being overlooked at the damn balls. Assumed there were others who felt the same.”
“I wish you much success with it.”
“I apprecia—”
“I’m so sorry we’re tardy.” The raspy voice, the one that haunted his dreams, his memories, had his gut drawing in tight and his side remembering the tenderness of her touch—as though skin had the ability to recall anything. But it was as though he could feel her fingers there again, pressing gently, skimming over the raised welt. What the devil was she doing here? She wasn’t family.
“Nonsense!” Althea said, crossing over to her friend and embracing her. God, Kathryn was more beautiful than any woman had a right to be. She wore yet another gown of green, and he cursed her for that, for the way it made her eyes sparkle emerald. “We were just visiting, catching up. Your Grace, I’m so glad you could join us.”
It was only then that he noticed Kingsland standing beside her. He didn’t want to see them together, but even as he acknowledged the thought, he realized it was for the best. He’d begun to have fantasies in which he imagined the life he’d led wouldn’t turn her away from him if he asked for her hand. That the realities of his club wouldn’t cause matrons to have the vapors, and fathers, recalling the escapades of their youth, not to express disapproval.
Ever the perfect hostess, Althea began making introductions, ensuring everyone knew each other. Thornley left his side to greet the newcomers, and Griff knew that he should do the same—or better yet leave entirely. Simply slip out without being seen or acknowledged, but then Althea was headed his way, the recent arrivals in tow.
“You remember my brother, Griff.”
“Yes, of course,” Kathryn said, and he couldn’t judge her mood, her thoughts. “It’s lovely to see you looking so well after all the trials and tribulations your family has endured.”
And he translated her words into what she truly meant to convey by her tone: after leaving me with nary a word.
“It’s a pleasure, Lady Kathryn.” He turned to the duke. “Good to see you, Your Grace.”
“And you, Stanwick. I’ve not forgotten that I owe you for directing me toward this charming lady.”
“You don’t owe me.”
Althea’s brows pinched, and he realized she probably hadn’t a clue what the daft duke was referring to. “May I offer you some refreshment? Some before-dinner port, perhaps?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Kathryn said.
“Why don’t you go on?” Kingsland suggested. “I’ll join you in a minute. I’d like a private word with Mr. Stanwick.”
As the ladies walked away, Griff suspected his sister was going to learn about the letter he’d written, and if she didn’t already know about it, the damned wager he’d made. Not that any of it mattered. It was so long ago. Or it shouldn’t have mattered. But he was finding that he regretted rather strongly that he’d done both. Especially when it was so difficult to see Kathryn with this lordly paragon. He was grateful Beast had offered him a glass of scotch earlier and he hadn’t yet finished it off. He took a casual sip as he waited for Kingsland to have his say, whatever it was, although he had a good idea what it would entail.
“You threatened my brother.” Four words that came out flat, casual, as though he’d stated he took four lumps of sugar with his tea, but they were edged with warning.
Griff held the duke’s gaze and lifted a corner of his mouth in a mockery of a smile. “Did I?”
Kingsland studied him for all of a heartbeat. “Not that I blame you. He owed you what should have already been paid. But I am curious. Did you intend to punch him or expose a secret?”
“A secret.”
The duke’s jaw tightened. Obviously, he’d have preferred punch as the answer. “I don’t suppose you’d be good enough to share what it was.”
“He paid. It stays with me.”
Kingsland nodded. “Was it easily uncovered, so others might use it against him, possibly to blackmail him?”
A year earlier, Griff hadn’t known what it was to want to protect one’s brother, to be willing to do anything for him. He knew now, and he recognized in the duke the same desire. Kingsland wanted to shield his younger brother from harm. Ah, hell. He might as well confess. “I don’t know what the secret is.”
Apparently quite stunned, Kingsland blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Everyone has secrets, Your Grace. All I did was imply that I knew his and would reveal it.”
“Bloody hell. Brilliant. And if he hadn’t paid?”
He shrugged. “Then I would have gone to the bother to figure out what it was.”
“Well played, Stanwick. I might have to employ the same tactic the next time I’m on the losing end of a negotiation.”
“When have you ever been on the losing end of anything?”
“Quite right. You collected all you were owed, I assume.”
“With interest.”
“Jolly good for you. Made a few enemies, I suspect.”
“They already considered themselves my enemies.” But he’d settled the ruffled feathers of those who qualified by granting them a six-month membership in his club. It had been a way to spread the word about his enterprise, and most, if not all, would no doubt continue their membership once their time was up. An initial small loss for a greater gain.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t believe in visiting the sins of the father upon the sons.”
“I appreciate it.” Even if the duke was only one of the few who held that opinion.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I could use some scotch and a word with Thornley regarding a bill we’re working on.”
He started to walk away.
“She has to marry before her twenty-fifth birthday,” Griff said quietly enough that no one else would hear.
The duke paused before glancing back at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Lady Kathryn. She has to marry before her twenty-fifth birthday in order to gain an inheritance her grandmother left to her. She reaches that quarter of a century mark on August fifteenth.”
“I see.”
“That’s not a reason to marry her, of course, or for her to marry you, but if you’re going to marry, you might as well do it in time for her to receive an additional benefit.” He shook his head. “Why haven’t you asked?”
“I have my reasons.”
“It can’t be that you find fault with her.”
“’Tis true. I find no fault with her. I simply want to ensure she finds none with me. And that takes time. Especially when I’ve had to travel so much of late. But I shall take this new information into consideration.” He gave a brusque nod. “I appreciate it.”
Then he strode off to talk with Thornley about some blasted bill that wasn’t nearly as important as Kathryn. It probably wasn’t his place to tell the duke about the damned inheritance, but if he wasn’t going to marry her in a timely fashion, there was no point in his marrying her at all.
Inwardly, he strung together a slew of curses. Even if the duke missed her deadline, Griff couldn’t marry her. The duke was offering her power, prestige, influence. Griff could offer her little more than a life away from all that was familiar.
Being admitted into this parlor was not being admitted back into Society. He wasn’t fool enough to think it was.
Besides, she deserved far better than a man with a soul as tainted as his.
Because the dinner involved family, Althea hadn’t bothered with any sort of formal seating arrangement. Therefore, Kathryn sat across from Griff and beside Kingsland. When her dear friend had invited her to dinner, Althea’s first formal event since returning from Scotland, Kathryn had been more than happy to accept, especially since Althea had mentioned that Griff would be in attendance. She’d wanted to know exactly how he fared.
She was relieved to see him looking so well, with no sallowness to his skin. When she’d first caught sight of him standing by the fireplace, she’d no
ticed his left arm rested at an angle, an attempt to shield that side of his body from any unexpected knocks or blows. His wound was probably still healing and tender, or perhaps it was merely a habit he’d developed when it had been, and he’d strode through his dominion. She doubted anyone else would notice the protective stance, that anyone else would drink him in like he provided sustenance to a parched soul.
It rather irritated her that she did. She’d not had an opportunity to speak with him alone, so she had yet to reveal her upset with him for sneaking away without so much as a farewell. Although perhaps he’d wanted to avoid facing any awkwardness between them.
What had transpired shouldn’t have. Yet it had seemed as natural as reaching for the saltshaker—which at that particular moment they both did, their fingers touching, pausing, before he drew his back.
“I was in Scotland recently,” Kingsland said to their host at the head of the table, to his right. “I’m thinking of investing in a distillery.”
“The Scots do know how to make a good whisky,” the Duchess of Thornley said.
“Might you carry it in your tavern?”
“I would have to sample it first.”
“I’d be willing to give it a taste as well,” Aiden Trewlove said. “Might carry it in my clubs.” His clubs being the Elysium she visited and a gaming hell for men.
“What of you, Mr. Stanwick?” Kingsland said, as he sliced his beef. “Might you serve it in your club as well?”
She went still, except for her thundering heart, and wondered how he knew of the club. He certainly wouldn’t qualify for a membership. Griff met her gaze before sliding it over to the duke. “Depends how smoothly it went down.”
Scoundrel of My Heart EPB Page 19