Have Yourself a Merry Little Secret : a Christmas collection of historical romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 2)

by Collette Cameron

  Later that evening, Milton handed her Robert’s response, and she ripped it open with trembling fingers. The reply was blunt.

  At your service, my lady.

  And now she was frantically scanning the ballroom, searching for a particular dark head of hair, the time at which they had agreed to meet in the library marching steadily onwards with the speed of cold molasses. She couldn’t see him, but he had promised, and as she had found out, Robert kept his promises. Only half attending to the admirers who now frequently gravitated to her at these gatherings, she had a faraway look that left many of her partners wondering where her sharp wit had gone. At last, she thought she had caught sight of him, and that knot of anxiousness sitting under her ribcage eased somewhat.

  The festivities were in full swing when she whispered her excuses in Aunt Emmie’s ear. She’d ripped the hem of her gown and was going to the retiring room to see to its repair. It should buy her enough time for her interlude with Robert before anyone could grow suspicious. Making her way towards the powder room, she doubled back and slipped into an empty antechamber.

  Kitty was taking a risk, but she had to speak with Robert. She had to. Her skin prickled, and she sucked in a deep breath, her lungs inflating, and then let all the tension drain away. There was nothing left to do but wait. She tried sitting but couldn’t find that elusive peace. Promptly bouncing back on to her feet, she paced, her skirt fluttering around her ankles. Her gaze flicked to the carriage clock on the mantel. Already ten minutes had passed. She wouldn’t be able to tarry much longer.

  The reassuring rattle of the handle lifted the oppressive weight from her shoulders. He’d come.

  But when she turned in the direction of the arrival of her companion, her smile fled from her face. “What are you doing here?” Kitty demanded, the Marquess of Lansdowne moving farther into the room.

  “Your sister helpfully pointed out your direction.”

  Oh, Anne-Marie, what have you done? Growing horror slithered through Kitty at the potential danger she had placed herself in. She took a step back, and his grin widened by a sickening degree. Realisation struck Kitty—he was enjoying toying with her, feeding off her fear.

  Kitty straightened her spine. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction. In her frostiest tone, she glared down her nose at him.

  “You are intruding, my lord, I request that you leave.”

  He ignored her and strolled closer, his gaze fixed upon her person in a most unnerving way, dark and gleaming, like a fever was racking his body.

  “You have led me on a pretty dance, Miss Thorpe.” His gaze slid over her insolently.

  Kitty barely contained a shudder. It was invasive. She had to get out of the room. Now.

  “One of the best I’ve encountered.” He shot her a sly grin. “But that is what makes the end all the more rewarding, don’t you think?”

  “You talk in riddles, sir, and I have no time for it,” she said with a haughty toss of her head and strode purposefully towards the door.

  He grabbed her shoulder with surprising strength, and she realised her error in coming within his reach.

  “Release me at once,” she demanded, looking away, unflinching.

  She tried yanking on her arm, but his grip remained firm.

  His hot breath fanned against her cheek. “I will have you, yay or nay.”

  With a violent push, Kitty toppled back on the sofa, and his weight followed her down.

  She was caught, her hands curled into claws, and she went for his eyes. He knocked them aside and pinned them beneath him. Kitty couldn’t shift his weight. Disgusting slimy lips touched her naked skin, and she flinched with revulsion. His hands harsh and thick, his fingers dug into her shoulders like butcher’s meat hooks, and she fought to break his grip, leaving bruises in their wake. She opened her mouth to protest, to ring a peal over his head for daring to lay hands upon her person. It was a mistake. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she gagged. It was like trying to swallow a slippery eel. She tried to scream, but it came out in a choked splutter. He thrust it in a lewd parody of what he intended for her. The immobilising panic gave way to anger and rage firing deep within her. It stoked hotter and hotter with each moment she was forced to endure his odious touch.

  His body was yanked off her, and she could breathe again. Air had never tasted so sweet. She scrambled to push up from the sofa and spied Robert bodily dragging the marquis by the collar towards the door.

  He leaned down until their noses were almost touching. “You ever touch Miss Thorpe again, and I will flog the skin from your back.”

  The soft menace in Robert’s tone had Kitty convinced he meant every single word. This was the ruthless commander who had seen battle, who would gut any man if he thought it necessary. “And then I will use cannon to scatter your innards over the countryside. Now get out.”

  Robert practically threw the man out of the room.

  “Did he hurt you?” Robert’s rage was palatable, his hands shaking as he cupped her shoulders and steadied her enough to stand.

  Kitty inhaled through her nose, attempting and failing miserably to bring herself under control. Tilting her face up, she offered him a wobbly smile.

  “I take it I wasn’t the only one to receive an invitation?” he asked with a mocking arch of that cursed eyebrow.

  He let her go, and Kitty instantly mourned the loss of contact.

  He was shaking his head, an unfamiliar snap of temper in his eyes. “If you insist on playing with fire, Miss Thorpe, you might not find the consequences to your liking.”

  “I haven’t been playing with fire you…you…you addlepate,” she snapped back, but the words kept flowing. “I have spent weeks dodging his insults and innuendos, doing my best to avoid him when my own mother insists on sabotaging my efforts. I abhor that man; he disgusts me. Why, that fat lob cock likened me to a horse! A horse, I tell you! To be broken and mounted. All because I will not accept his carte blanche, but no, I am forced to smile and pretend to be unaffected by that great Lubbock’s presence every time I’m coerced to stand up with him.”

  Kitty finished her angry tirade, her chest heaving, then ruined it by promptly bursting into tears. Robert stared at her, slack-jawed. She couldn’t believe she had just spewed all that out.

  Strong arms instantly enveloped her. “Hush, it’s all right, I’m here.”

  She buried her face into his coat, a warm, dark haven.

  His lips brushed her forehead.

  “I apologise, Kitten, my jealousy got the better of me. I should have known you would not encourage a man like him.”

  Katherine cried all the harder. No, no, no, she was the one who was meant to be apologising to him, not the other way round.

  His hand rubbed her back, soothing her by degrees. “I’ll never let him touch you again,” he murmured into her hair.

  Kitty wanted to ask, pray tell, how he was going to manage this, but it was beyond her to form coherent sentences at that moment. Her sobs subsided to the odd hiccup, and if anything, Robert held her tighter. His finger curled under her chin, and with a gentle but uncompromising pressure, he raised her head.

  She blinked away the remnants of the tears clinging to her lashes and was ensnared. Robert was so very close, his breath tickling her cheek. His eyes were black velvet dotted with amber, with faint lines at the corners that hadn’t been there before. Kitty poked her tongue out and moistened her lips. If she just moved her head ever so slightly, their lips would touch. The firm wall of his chest pressed against her breasts. Kitty lifted her head and sealed the distance. At first, she’d wanted to find comfort in the familiar, replace the marquis’ touch and words with something safe and good. Robert deepened the kiss, and she moaned low in her throat, the sound spurring him on, his hand tangling in her hair. The rest of the world faded into insignificance, as did her mission, and in this bubble there was only the two of them. The years and insults rolled away, and they were transported to hot, hazy summer afternoons and
illicit rendezvous under the willow tree, completely out of sight of prying eyes.

  He palmed her breast and circled the pad of his thumb over the nipple. Kitty gasped, darts of pleasure shooting to her lower belly, and closed her eyes at the sensation. Lost, she was completely lost. A frantic urgency filled her and, reaching between them, she cupped him, the hoarse curse he muttered a most gratifying reward.

  Suddenly, Robert thrust her behind him, the cold air dousing her ardour. The door swung open, and Kitty froze, like a doe caught in the open as several people piled into the room, saw them clutched in their embrace, and froze at the threshold. Her mind went blank. Ruined. Caught. The witness’ eyes widened in shock at their compromising position, and already she could see herself becoming the latest on dit. The gossips would tear her to shreds.

  Robert stepped forward to shield her from view. The judgement of the room was a heavy, oppressive weight, but he forced a smile in the face of it.

  “Apologies,” he began with that smooth confidence that penetrated the fog. Robert’s lips twisted in a rueful smile that didn’t meet his eyes. “Miss Thorpe has made me the happiest of men and agreed to become my wife. In the moment, I temporarily lost my senses.”

  An old dowager grinned, and someone towards the back chuckled. “Young people.”

  “Come, my dear, no need to be shy,” he commanded, offering his arm, taking the offensive.

  She clutched his sleeve with a shaky hand, and with a poise she currently felt beyond her, she allowed Robert to lead her masterfully from the room.

  “Keep your head up, we must find your mother,” Robert muttered out of the side of his mouth. “Where is she?”

  “The ballroom,” Kitty croaked, “the far end.”

  As they walked through the ballroom, she swore heads turned in their direction and a scurry of whispers followed them like the swell of a wave. Kitty shrank closer to his side, and Robert caught the motion.

  “Head up, my dear, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he encouraged, a warm, steadying presence at her side. “And remember to smile.”

  They paused, and Robert’s gaze scanned the opposing side.

  “She is there, sitting by the wall next to Mrs Fitzsimmons,” Kitty whispered faintly, a headache fast developing at her temples. The blood rushed past her ears until the sound even blocked out the insolent hissing whispers.

  “I will explain that we are engaged and that I will call upon your father. Can you last a little longer, Kitten, it will help scupper the rumour mill if you give them no credence.”

  She pulled her shoulders back and tilted her head up, a spark of spirit brightening her eyes. “That’s it.”

  Lady Mowbray made a beeline for the young couple, and one might have been fooled by the delighted smile, if not for the stormy grey eyes threatening to have Robert keel-hauled.

  “My dears,” she chimed, an almost musical quality to her voice. “I am delighted I can at last congratulate you both now that our secret is out.”

  Robert looked over Baroness Mowbray with a new appreciation. Clever woman; she was fast on the uptake, making it appear like a prior agreement with the family, rather than a rushed job.

  She embraced Katherine at his side, who had been remarkably silent. In fact, her quietness was giving him some unease.

  “What the devil has happened, Vaughn? You better have a good explanation before I hang you up by your own entrails,” the older woman hissed, for their ears only.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Robert’s lips twitched.

  “We were caught in an innocent but compromising position, an upsetting event that has left Katherine shaken.” His gaze slid to his new fiancée’s face. She had a pale and somewhat glassy expression. She had withdrawn into herself, and his concern mounted. “I will be visiting Lord Thorpe in the morning to take care of the formalities.”

  Lady Mowbray’s eyes narrowed into thin slits, and if they had been in a darkened street rather than in the middle of the glittering throng, Robert would have laid odds of his body being found floating in the Thames come morning.

  “See that you do, young man.”

  Lady Euphemia and Robert posted guard either side of Katherine. They were greeted by well-wishers and together saw off the more impertinent questions. Lady Thorpe appeared a tad disappointed with the news but compensated the lack of an esteemed title by making a great show of pointing out Captain Vaughn’s wealth to any who would hear it. Terribly crass, and it rankled to put his private affairs on display. Katherine nodded and smiled politely, adding her thanks to the conversation, but her mind seemed elsewhere.

  Robert escorted her into the supper room. “How are you holding up?”

  Large, anguished eyes peered up at him. “I didn’t mean for this to happen Robert.” Her grip tightened on his sleeve, desperation clouding her gaze. “You have to believe me, it was not my intention to trap you.”

  Robert covered her hand with his own and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “I know.”

  He didn’t know how he knew. The meeting, the discovery, it spoke all the designs of a neatly laid trap, but that was never Katherine’s style. She was too straightforward. If you pleased her, a wide smile split her face from ear to ear. If you angered her, she would ring a peal over your head, as he had found out in recent weeks. He didn’t want to examine his thoughts too carefully. In the moment, all his energies were absorbed into protecting her at all costs. Her rare show of vulnerability called to him, resurrecting long-dead feelings of tenderness.

  A few dances after supper, Lady Mowbray whispered in his ear that they would now be able to leave without causing speculation.

  She drilled him with a final, pointed stare. “I look forward to seeing the notice in The Gazette, Captain Vaughn.”

  Robert met her gaze steadily. “It will be my second call of the morning.”

  She nodded with decided satisfaction and moved to return to her party when Robert halted the motion. “My lady.”

  She arched an imperious eyebrow at him. “Yes, Captain.” She sniffed.

  “Miss Thorpe has had a very trying night.” Robert searched for the right words. “With certain persons pressing their unwelcome suit in an unsavoury manner.”

  Fury sparked in the dowager’s eyes, and the grip on her fan became a stranglehold. “Indeed?” she said blandly as if they were discussing something as inconsequential as the weather. She was a cool one right enough.

  “She is well but could do with careful handling.”

  “I will see to it. We are thankful you were at hand, Captain. I trust you will tie up any loose ends.” Damn, she missed nothing, but he was far from done with Lansdowne. The man would rue the day he ever set his sights on his Katherine.

  He locked his gaze with her. “I will see to it, my lady.” Robert would deal with the marquis, though not in a way that would leave Katherine open to speculation. It ruled out duelling, but there were other ways to run a quarry to ground.

  Chapter 8

  Making sure the thick black veil covered her face, Kitty exited the hackney to stand in front of the imposing facade of Preston House. She swallowed and stared at the lion’s head knocker and cast a last figurative glance over her shoulder. Kitty screwed up her courage and before she could change her mind, grasped the knocker and slammed it down. The sound reverberated through her, and she stood frozen on the step. Heart seemingly in her throat, she waited for the door to be answered and in the same instance praying it wasn’t.

  A servant admitted her.

  “I’m here to see Captain Vaughn,” she commanded like she wasn’t blatantly flouting social convention.

  To his credit, the footman’s face remained neutral. “And who should I say is calling?”

  “I give no name,” she said with a bravery she didn’t feel.

  That received a raised eyebrow. “Please wait here.”

  She studied the entrance hall, twisting her fingers in the folds of her gown, wondering if she had erred. A million possi
bilities opened up to her. Perhaps he was out. Robert could be attending the Rotham’s rout. Or at the Beckingham musical, like the rest of her family. She had pleaded to feeling under the weather. Her father had accepted it, but with a dry comment that she was turning into an invalid, his analytical gaze noting the guilty flush staining her cheeks. But it was the only way Kitty could meet Robert, and talk to him plainly, without fear of interruption.

  A door to the left opened from the antechamber, and the man in question stepped out, looking dishevelled but relaxed in his shirtsleeves, his hair sticking out at odd angles.

  “I will see the lady, Johnson, you may go.”

  He held open a door wider and ushered Katherine inside, and it closed behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief to be out of sight of prying eyes.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” she began, lifting the cloying veil off her face. She hated that thing, but it was a necessity.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and snapped, “Damn it, Katherine, are you dead set on ruin, no matter what the cost?”

  The attack surprised Kitty, stealing her breath, and she took an instinctive step back. “No one knows I am here, and at any rate, what do I have to lose?”

  Robert released a harsh laugh. “Your common sense, followed by your reputation in short order, my dear.”

  Then, appearing to remember himself, Robert inhaled sharply and took a step back, running a hand through his hair, the end behind his ear curling haphazardly, and she smiled at the familiar sight. But when he turned back to face her, his stern expression made that smile fade.

  He gestured to a chair, and she took a seat and settled her skirts before he was also seated. “What can I do for you, Miss Thorpe?”

  She fought the urge to shift uneasily, the weight of his too-knowing gaze brought to bear on her, but she treated him with the same directness in turn.

  “I want your assurance that you don’t intend to go through with this ridiculous farce of a marriage.”

  Silence reigned between them, and it was hardly comforting.