by Jenna Jaxon
“I could make it out fine. But that doesn’t answer the question of what you think you’re doing.” Celinda came over to the bed and stayed Kate’s hands as she picked up a white morning gown.
Kate shook her off and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. They simply would not stop tearing up this morning. She hated that she could be so weak about this utter disaster. “Clarke is indisposed this morning, so I am packing up my belongings and returning to Somerset.”
“In the middle of the Season? Why? For how long?” Celinda’s thoroughly shocked face stopped Kate as she picked up a yellow ball gown, already folded and ready for the trunk.
“For good.” After a long night of tossing, and turning, and tears, she’d risen with the dawn, determined to leave behind London and the whole wretched mess concerning the Earl of Haversham. Better to remain a spinster in the country than to have to listen to the sniggers and gossip of the ton about “poor Miss Locke who turned down her only chance at marriage. A marriage to pay off a wager was better than none at all.” What did they know? Solitude in her brother’s household was better than staying to such scorn and ridicule.
She dropped the yellow gown into the trunk and clenched her hands. How could she have been such a ninny? Never again would she risk her heart with a man who made her love him when he didn’t love her.
“You are not serious.” Celinda picked up the nightgowns and carried them back toward the open dressing room.
“Oh, yes, I am. Stop that, Celinda. Give those back to me.” Kate tried to snatch the clothing out of Celinda’s grasp, but her cousin stepped nimbly away, holding the garments out of reach.
“You must stop this, Kate.” Her cousin danced backward. “Tell me what’s happened. Your note said only to come and say goodbye, not why.”
Kate swallowed back more tears. She didn’t want to cry anymore. “Oh, Celinda, I’ve been such an awful fool.”
Somehow they were seated on the bed as she told Celinda everything about the courtship, the proposal, and the secret wager.
“Well, it wasn’t actually a wager, it seems.” Her cousin handed her another clean handkerchief from one of the piles they had pushed aside.
“It’s just as bad,” Kate wailed, mopping her face. “He agreed to marry me to pay off a debt. That’s even worse. My brother practically sold me to him for three thousand pounds.” She forced herself to calm her breathing. She didn’t want to faint into the bargain. “I don’t know which one of them I hate more.”
“The problem is that you love both of them.” Celinda sighed and tucked a foot underneath her. “You wouldn’t be so distraught if you didn’t.”
“I…but… Don’t be ridiculous.” Kate slid off the bed, pacing to the window with angry strides. She hated Nathan for making that despicable offer and hated Marcus even more for agreeing to it. And for making her fall in love with him. Drat these tears. She hated them for making her cry as well.
“I’m not being ridiculous, and you know it. Look at me and tell me you’re not in love with Lord Haversham.” She raised her chin and gave her a superior smirk.
Kate whirled around to stare at her beautiful blond cousin, trying to decide if she didn’t hate her as well. She didn’t want to think about Marcus, much less talk about him. Yet she couldn’t stop herself. “Whether or not I love him is beside the point. He doesn’t love me. The only reason he courted me was to pay off that wretched debt.” Her heart hurt as though a powerful hand was squeezing it.
“Hmmm.” Celinda jumped to the floor, grabbed Kate’s hand, and led her back to the bed. “I suspect the money may indeed have been the original reason for his wooing you, but to be fair, Lord Haversham is not the first nobleman to need to marry for money. His method of doing so may have been unorthodox, but there is no shame in the motive itself. However, I also suspect his reasons changed over the course of the courtship.”
“How could you think that?” Kate blew her nose, still annoyed that her cousin could champion Lord Haversham.
“Because of what transpired this past Friday night.” Celinda nodded, a triumphant smile on her face.
“Last Friday night?” Kate peered at her, baffled. She couldn’t even remember where she’d gone that evening amidst the past weeks’ whirl of activities.
“We were at Mrs. Doyle’s for supper and cards, if you recall?” Celinda cocked her head, excitement in her eyes.
“Now that you mention it, yes, that was Friday night.” Kate frowned. “Lord Haversham and I were paired for whist before supper, but afterward I ended up playing hearts with Lady Smythe-Cowper and her two daughters.” What difference did that make?
“I met Lord Finley there as well.”
“Yes, I saw you together at supper.” Kate’s frown deepened. What the devil was her cousin getting at?
“Well, after supper, I was detained by our hostess then couldn’t find Lord Finley until almost the end of the party.” Celinda’s brows made a fleeting frown. “That was most annoying as I wanted his company particularly that evening. Papa is being difficult again about the man I wish to marry.” She gave herself a little shake and smiled at Kate. “Anyway, when I finally found him again, he apologized most abjectly and told me he’d been caught up in a very spirited game of Bezique with Lord Haversham.”
Kate sniffed. “I’m sure that’s no concern of mine.”
“Oh, but it is, my dear.” Celinda drew closer to her. “Lord Finley said he’d have to be careful when playing with Lord Haversham in the future, for the man was uncannily good at the game and had trounced him soundly.”
Kate swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. “Did he say how much he’d lost?”
“Not to me, no, but the very next day, Lord Carmichael, who’s in the same club as Lord Finley, told Lady Carmichael, who told Lady Margery Scopes, who told Mrs. Hatcherd, who my maid Cutter overheard tell my mother that Lord Finley had lost five thousand pounds and paid it without blinking an eye.” Celinda’s triumphant voice rang in Kate’s ears. “I am so happy that Mamma heard this because now she can confirm what I’ve told her about Lord Finley’s assets, and she can tell Papa. A man who can lose that much without flinching must be well set up financially. Papa must see that in a favorable light.” Her cousin finished her recitation and beamed at Kate.
“You’re sure it was five thousand pounds Lord Finley lost?” Kate’s hands had grown damp, and she wiped them on her skirt, heedless of the stain. If this was true, Marcus had gained a fortune just days before he had proposed. So he needn’t have asked her to marry him at all…
“I suspect Lord Haversham may have begun courting you with an eye to cancelling the debt, but fell in love along the way.” Celinda’s cornflower blue eyes twinkled. “Why would he propose to a woman he loathed if there was no need?”
Could that be true? A flicker of hope began to thaw the icy ring surrounding her heart. If Marcus had no feelings for her at all, wouldn’t he have paid Nathan as soon as he received the funds, or at least told Nathan the money was coming and stopped the courtship simply by not showing up? “If he continued to meet me for three days after having the dibs to get him out of the River Tick, he must have some affection for me.” Oh, but she wanted to believe that.
“I’d wager my best hat on that.” Celinda laughed gleefully. “And you know how fond I am of my hats. I believe you are going to be very happy together.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Kate frowned, not yet convinced. Marcus still had much to answer for. “He made an agreement with my brother to woo me without consulting me whatsoever. How would you like that?”
Her cousin shrugged. “I suppose if I loved the man, I wouldn’t mind so much.”
“Well, I mind very much.” She slid off the bed and began to pace, seeking distraction from the ache in her heart.
“Do you truly want to throw away your happiness, cousin, because the man made a mistake?” Celinda followed her and grabbed her arm. “Do you love him?”
Miserably, Kate met
her eyes. “I’ve been trying to convince myself all night that I don’t.” With a sob, she threw herself into Celinda’s arms. “But I do.”
“Then forgive him and be happy.”
Kate stared at her cousin, thinking hard. Could she forgive him for his deception? If he had actually come to care for her—which, from what Celinda said, seemed to be the truth—she would be a fool not to. Who would fling their happiness away with both hands? Did she love him enough to swallow her pride, go to Marcus and say, “I understand and I forgive you?” That would be easy enough if she just let go of her anger...
“But what if he will not forgive me?” A horrible sinking feeling filled her with dread. “I refused him, Celinda.” Memory of that refusal, of her hurtful words, turned the blood in her veins to ice. “I said truly awful things to him.” She bit her lip. “What should I do? Tell Nathan? Or write to Marcus? Ask if he will see me?”
“Oh, I don’t think you need bother with that. He’s here right now.”
“What?” Her head spun.
“I saw his curricle out front when I arrived.”
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest. Dared she go down and face him? “What if he doesn’t want me anymore?”
“Do you still want him?” Celinda leaned toward her, hanging on her every word.
“Yes, yes, I do.” Kate trembled, tears gathering in her eyes once more. Could happiness be so close and yet lost to her? “I thought so even before he kissed me. But afterward, well—”
Celinda clutched her arm, a sudden gleam in her eye. “He kissed you?”
* * * *
“So, will I see you this evening?” Ainsley came from behind his desk, glass still in hand.
“You shall.” Marcus bit his lip, but asked anyway. “Will your sister…”
“I highly doubt it.” Ainsley glanced into his glass and grimaced. “She’s not spoken to me since yesterday, but Banks informed me first thing this morning that Kate had requested her trunks be brought to her rooms. I believe she’s preparing to take her maid and retire to my estate in Somerset. I suspect—”
“Is he in here?”
The muffled sounds of a woman’s raised voice penetrated the oak door a moment before it burst open, and Kate Locke strode in. Her auburn hair lit up like a cap of flame in the afternoon sunlight and her eyes gleamed when they fell on him.
Marcus staggered back, his heart in his throat.
“Kate! What the devil is the meaning of this outburst?” Ainsley scowled, going toward his sister as though to ward her off.
Marcus sighed, drinking in the sight of her, savoring each moment that might be his last for a very long time.
“Aha. He is here, Celinda.”
On Kate’s heels came Lady Celinda Graham. She fixed her stare on him as well, but gave him a wink. What the deuce did that mean? What was going on now?
Kate stretched out her arm, pointed her finger at him, and in a dramatic voice to rival Sarah Siddon’s Lady Macbeth, announced, “Nathan, I demand that you make Lord Haversham marry me.”
Marcus blinked, looking from Kate, whose eyes blazed, to her brother, whose mouth hung open.
“What?” Ainsley finally managed. He kept his attention on his sister, though he glanced at Marcus, eyebrows raised. “What the deuce is going on, Kate?”
“I said you must make Lord Haversham marry me.”
“I must? But why?”
Kate arched her neck and lifted her chin. “Because he kissed me—in front of witnesses.”
“He did what?” Ainsley turned the color of new cheese.
Marcus gripped the back of the nearest chair. He’d hoped to keep that kiss—those kisses—a secret so Miss Locke would not be obligated to a man she detested. So why was she literally shouting about it and demanding he marry her? Could she have had a change of mind? Or was this some wild ploy to disgrace him once again? Best err on the side of caution. “I believe Miss Locke is mistaken.”
“No, she is not.” Lady Celinda stepped forward, a smile still playing over her lips. “A woman knows when she’s been kissed, my lord, unless the man is very inept, which I would wager you are not. Not based on what I have seen.”
“You saw us?” Dear God. He’d tried to be extraordinarily careful, to guard against this very thing happening, but then he’d believed himself to be kissing his betrothed.
“So you did kiss her?” Ainsley rounded on him, anger darkening his face.
“Well, yes, I did, but I thought at the time I was marrying her.” Marcus ran a hand over his face. The morning had taken on a nightmarish quality.
“You are absolutely correct about that, Haversham. If there were witnesses to your depraved behavior, you will be saying ‘I do’ immediately after the third set of banns is read.” Ainsley had puffed his chest out, the very picture of the vengeful brother.
“Just a moment, Ainsley.” He couldn’t let this go so easily. “I think I should be able to speak on behalf of Miss Locke and myself.” He turned to Kate.
She stared at him, her wide blue eyes pleading. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head and mouthed the words, “Forgive me.”
Marcus’s head reeled. Abruptly, he strode forward, grasped her head in his hands and sank his mouth onto hers. The warmth of her lips spread through him, from mouth to chest and then lower, the most welcome, satisfying sensation he’d ever known. He could do nothing save stand there and devour her. Let the world go hang.
“Humph.” Ainsley gruffly cleared his throat.
Marcus finally broke the kiss, his heart thrumming with contentment when Kate laid her head on his chest. He raised an eyebrow and met Ainsley’s eyes over her bright head. “That was for insurance.”
Epilogue
Marcus stood next to Kate, his chest bursting with pride that he’d managed to marry the most beautiful and loving wife in the world. Their wedding had gone off perfectly this morning, and, finally, the wedding breakfast was winding down. They needed only wait for their guests to leave and they could be alone at last.
Now, they chatted with friends and neighbors as the orchestra finished a set of quadrilles, and Marcus awaited a particular piece of music he’d requested.
“Are we to be wallflowers today, my love?” Kate glanced up at him, a saucy glint in her eyes.
“I would never deprive you of the pleasure of a dance, my dear.” He smiled down at her. “I am, however, waiting for one particular—”
The strains of a waltz broke through the murmurs of the guests.
“If I may have the honor of this next dance, Lady Haversham, my happiness for this day will be complete.” His smile broadened as her mouth pursed for a rebuttal. God, he would love living with her each and every day.
“Perhaps I can think of something else that will complete your happiness later, my lord.” Kate narrowed her eyelids, and his pulse pounded.
He’d bet she’d make good on that promise.
“Marcus.” Letitia approached them, her face wreathed in smiles, a young man at her side. “I daresay you know Mr. Albert Symmons? Mr. Symmons, my brother and his new wife, Lord and Lady Haversham.”
“How do you do, Mr. Symmons.” He bowed to the gangly young man and glared at Kate, who seemed to be stricken with a coughing fit.
“Delighted, Mr. Symmons,” Kate croaked out.
“Mr. Symmons had asked me for this next dance, Marcus.” Letitia beamed, and Marcus caught his breath.
“But it is a waltz, my dear.”
“Oh, I know.” Letitia shifted from one foot to the other. “But I think I would like to attempt it with Mr. Symmons.”
Kate’s gasp made him bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Then she clamped down on his hand, and he couldn’t restrain a chuckle.
“Well, my dear, perhaps you should try it at least this once.” Marcus smiled at his sister, who raised on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Then accompanied her partner to the dance floor.
Marcus turned to Kate, his grin spreading at her absolute astonishment. “Sh
all we dance as well, my love?”
“You allowed her to dance a waltz.” Her face glowed with happiness.
“You see? You have worked wonders on me, my dear.” He brushed his lips across hers then led her to the dance floor. He must tell her the truth about Letitia and the waltz one day.
Or perhaps not.
THE END
About the Author
Jenna Jaxon is a bestselling, multi-published author of historical romance in periods ranging from medieval to Victorian. She has been reading and writing historical romance since she was a teenager. A romantic herself, she’s always loved a dark side to the genre—a twist, suspense, a surprise—and tries to incorporate all these elements into her own stories. She lives in Virginia with her family and two rambunctious cats, Marmalade and Sugar. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. She often feels she is directing her characters on their own private stage.
Jenna is a PAN member of Romance Writers of America and is very active in Chesapeake Romance Writers, her local chapter of RWA.
She equates her writing to an addiction to chocolate, because once she starts she just can’t stop.
Connect with me online:
Blog: Jenna’s Journal
Twitter: @Jenna_Jaxon
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/#!/pages/Jenna-Jaxon/146857578723570
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4960704.Jenna_Jaxon
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005CHPBD2
More Works by this Author
Handful of Hearts series:
A Kiss Beneath the Mistletoe (Prequel)
Heart of Delight (Releases September 20, 2016)
Other titles:
Only Scandal Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 1)
Only Marriage Will Do (The House of Pleasure, Book 2)