‘I knew your mother.’ The Marchioness pinned him with a piercing look from her sharp blue eyes. ‘Has she ever mentioned me? Araminta Todmorden? That was my maiden name.’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘You are very Scottish-sounding.’ She continued to eye him suspiciously.
‘Aye. That is because I am Scottish.’
‘Do not be ridiculous! You are as English as I. You were born in Hertfordshire. I remember it very well.’
‘Aye...well...’ What the devil did the woman want him to say? ‘I—’
‘Lady Datchworth...’
A floral scent with a hint of citrus wreathed through Adam’s senses. He half-turned and there was Kitty at his elbow. The scent was unfamiliar...it did not conjure up the girl of his past. He must get used to it. That Kitty was gone...vanished into the mists of the past...and this lady, this stranger, occupied her space in the world. But he couldn’t deny she had matured into a very attractive woman—one who stirred his blood as effortlessly as the younger Kitty, despite the pain caused by that revelation of her speedy marriage to Fenton.
‘It is time to eat,’ Kitty said. ‘Will you take Fenton’s arm to lead the way to the dining room, ma’am?’
‘Not on this occasion.’ The Marchioness, although shorter than Kitty by a good three inches, still managed to look down her nose at her. ‘Kelridge will escort me. I expect him to be seated next to me. I have questions.’
Far from looking put out by Lady Datchworth’s edicts, Kitty bit back a smile as her eyes danced with amusement.
‘Of course, ma’am.’
The Marchioness snapped her fan closed and tapped Kitty upon the arm. ‘Do not imagine me blind to your insolence, young lady. You always were too opinionated for your own good. Young gels these days...full of new-fangled notions and opinions. It wasn’t the same in my day. Come, Kelridge. Let us proceed. I know my way, even if you do not.’
Adam slid a sideways look at Kitty, intercepting her glance at him. Her expression was as blank as he strived to make his own, leaving him at a loss as to how to she truly felt about them meeting again and about his change of circumstances.
He vowed to speak to her privately before the evening was out.
Chapter Four
Trust Lady Datchworth to tread her own path, Kitty thought. Had anyone else suggested that Lord Kelridge give her his arm, she would have speedily pulled rank for, as the lady of highest precedence, she would expect to be escorted by—and seated next to—Robert, her host. Kelridge and the Marchioness strolled from the salon and Lord Radwell, as the highest-ranking gentleman, proffered his arm to Kitty, who accepted with a gracious smile. The remaining diners would, she knew, follow in no specific order, unlike at a formal dinner where they would enter, and be seated, strictly according to order of precedence.
For the first time she wondered how Adam would adjust to the unwritten rules and etiquette of this world so alien to him. Nothing would come naturally to him.
Her eyes sought him, taking in his height and the breadth of his shoulders. He was so much larger than she remembered—his sheer size as intimidating as his direct blue stare—but he was just as handsome. She guessed he was not a man to be thwarted as she watched him lean over to listen to what Lady Datchworth was saying, nor one to be easily controlled...and Lady Datchworth was a woman who thrived on manipulating others into doing her bidding. But Her Ladyship’s acerbic tongue concealed a kind heart for anyone in trouble and Kitty hoped Adam would be patient with her when she annoyed him, as she surely would.
Kitty cast her mind back to the young man she had known. Had he been patient? Impatient? She was hard put to recall.
He had lied to her. That she remembered. He had broken her heart.
The manner of their parting overshadowed all that had gone before and all that had raised her young hopes. His fine words had proved false. Words with no meaning or substance or truth in them. Words to cajole and persuade a young starry-eyed girl to relinquish her heart...and thank goodness it had not been her body, too. She did owe him thanks for that, for he had never even attempted to go further than a few kisses and caresses—although she doubted the man he had become would be so hesitant.
She had not missed the admiration in his blue eyes when they first came face to face, or his subtle scan of her person, and she was conscious of the number of times he had sought her out with his gaze in the interlude before dinner was served. Her fear he would not remember her had proved groundless. He remembered her all right and he clearly still found her attractive. But she would not allow herself to be flattered into lowering her guard against him. Never again. So many men could not be trusted...she had learned that hard lesson early, from both her father and from Adam.
‘Lady Fenton?’
She turned to Lord Radwell, seeing the kindly concern in his eyes.
‘You tutted.’ A smile creased his face. ‘Is there aught amiss?’
She smiled back. ‘No, indeed, sir.’
He quirked a brow. ‘I am pleased to hear it.’
She need not elaborate and he would pry no further, of course. He was a gentleman. He had been a close friend of Edgar’s and he and his wife had proved a great support to the family when Edgar died.
Radwell helped seat Kitty at the table and sat by her side. Adam was at the far end, between Robert and Lady Datchworth and, throughout the meal, Kitty responded by rote to her neighbours’ conversation, drawing on her years of practice as a hostess. She even initiated a change of topic by referring to the forthcoming coronation of George IV in July but, the entire time, her attention returned again and again to Adam.
But that did not mean her interest was in any way personal. It was natural curiosity. It was understandable.
Everyone here is curious about this newcomer...why should I be exempt?
His hair was still dark as night and he still wore it a touch on the long side. Was it still as soft? His face...it was the same, but older, of course. And, perhaps, harsher—no longer the open, sunny smiles of his youth but all hard planes and chiselled, brooding looks, with dark brows drawn low over those percipient blue eyes. And his mouth...his lips...
The memory of his kiss shivered through her and she shook it off, only to find Lord Radwell watching her with a slight frown. She smiled at him.
‘Tell me, my lord...how fares your mother these days? It is several years since I have seen her in town, I believe?’
‘She grows frail,’ he said. ‘But that is only to be expected for a lady almost eighty. She is not strong enough to travel and so must remain at the Manor and hope for the occasional visit by friends and neighbours.’
Oh, dear. And now I am obligated...
‘I am sorry to hear that. When we return to Fenton, I shall make sure to call upon her.’ Radwell Manor was less than ten miles from Fenton Hall. Many of their guests, deliberately, had been drawn from their local society in Hertfordshire, for the same families were also neighbours of Kelridge Place. ‘And how are the rest of the family?’
While the Earl told her about his adult children and their families, Kitty’s thoughts returned to Adam.
Should I try to talk to him? In private?
But she shied away from the idea. What was there to say? Nothing she hadn’t said to him at the time and nothing that could possibly alter the fact that he had walked away from her, having lied.
I must be grateful for Lady Datchworth’s interest...she will no doubt keep him occupied for the rest of the evening.
* * *
But Kitty had not reckoned on Lady Datchworth developing the headache and leaving before the gentlemen finished their port.
‘I am so sorry you are unwell,’ Kitty said, as she escorted her from the salon, having already instructed Vincent, their butler, to order Her Ladyship’s carriage to be brought to the door.
‘As am I, for I had hop
es of finding out more about the newcomer in our midst. He plays his cards close to his chest, does that one—bluntly refused me his mother’s direction, would you believe, even though I demanded it outright! I am persuaded she would not object, for we were friends in our younger days, you know, and I wish to write to her, but he simply would not budge.’
Kitty smiled at Lady Datchworth’s outrage—being thwarted was a novel experience for her—as they made slow progress down the stairs.
‘Mayhap his mother does not wish to revisit her past?’
‘Stuff and nonsense!’
Male voices reached them from the landing above as the gentlemen began to leave the dining room. Lady Datchworth halted.
‘I shall pay my respects to my host, my dear, if you would be good enough to summon him?’
‘Of course.’
A hand stayed Kitty as she turned to climb the stairs again. ‘And, while you are there, you may tell Lord Kelridge that I wish to speak to him before I leave. He is an interesting man and he would, I believe, be a splendid match for that stepdaughter of yours. Do you not agree?’
‘Charis? No, I do not. He is far too old for her.’
‘Poppycock, my dear. Look at how content you were with Fenton...there were more years between the pair of you than there are between Kelridge and Charis. And think of the advantage in having her settled so near to Fenton. Not like poor Jennifer, so far away in Yorkshire. I am convinced you will be happy to have Charis so near.’
With no idea what to say without revealing her prior acquaintance with Adam, Kitty merely nodded and continued up to the landing. She passed Lady Datchworth’s command on to Robert, who grinned good-naturedly and headed for the stairs. Kitty scanned the other male guests as they quit the dining room. Adam was the last to emerge and his gaze immediately settled on Kitty, capturing hers. She swallowed past the sudden constriction of her throat.
‘Lady Datchworth is indisposed and is about to leave. She expressed a wish to speak with you before she goes.’
A sardonic smile stretched his lips but failed to reach his eyes. ‘A wish, you say? I should rather believe it a command. I suppose there is no getting out of it? An excuse ye might pass on to Her Ladyship on my behalf?’
‘You suppose correctly, sir.’
‘Sir? There was a time ye called me Adam without hesitation, Kitty.’
Anger flashed through her, shocking her with its intensity. Hearing her name on his lips...as though he believed he had the right—No! He forewent any such right the day he walked away from her and left her to the mercy of her father and his greedy, heartless scheme.
‘It is Catherine, Lord Kelridge.’ She kept her tone measured. Not for the world would she reveal how rattled she was by his reappearance in her life. ‘And that was in another lifetime. Time has moved on and I with it.’
How many years had it been since anyone had called her Kitty? Edgar had always preferred Catherine, deeming Kitty childish, and she had raised no objection because the name brought back too many painful memories of Adam. She drew in a breath and straightened her shoulders, raising her chin.
‘I should deem it a favour if you forget we ever met.’
His expression gave nothing away, the planes of his face hard and still, his eyes shadowed by the fall of hair over his forehead.
‘As ye wish.’
He spun on his heel and headed for the stairs. Kitty followed, her heart thumping erratically, her mouth dry.
They descended to the hallway where a maid was helping Lady Datchworth to don her tippet ready for the journey while Robert waited patiently by the open front door. Her Ladyship waved her hand at Robert in regal dismissal as Kitty reached the ground floor.
‘I have already thanked you for your invitation, Fenton, so you may go now. Catherine will see me out. You must attend to your guests.’
Robert flicked a sideways glance at Kitty, and his lips quirked. He bowed to Lady Datchworth. ‘Goodnight, my lady.’
Adam also bowed. ‘I’ll bid ye goodnight as well, my lady.’
‘You may hand me into my carriage, Kelridge.’ Her Ladyship’s gaze shifted to Kitty, then back to Adam again. ‘And do not imagine I have forgiven your stubborn refusal to give me your mother’s address, for I have not.’
‘It seems I am doomed to disappoint the ladies this night.’ Kitty steeled herself not to react to his jibe. ‘Yet I have offered to forward your letter to my mother—whether she then chooses to share her whereabouts with you is, I would suggest, her prerogative. My lady.’
Lady Datchworth peered down her nose at him, but then she caught Kitty’s eye to reveal a twinkle in her own blue orbs. ‘This one,’ she said, ‘will need watching, Lady Fenton. He is a rogue.’
With that, she marched out into the street, ignoring the groom standing ready to assist her into the carriage, and waited for Adam to hand her in. It was only when she was settled on to the seat that she deigned to say goodnight to Kitty, who was therefore obliged to stand outside as well. She shivered as the carriage pulled away and turned for the warmth of the house.
‘It is chilly for the time of year,’ she remarked as they went indoors.
‘Not in my experience.’ Adam stood aside to allow Kitty to precede him. ‘You southerners are no’ hardened to a cold climate.’
Vincent closed the door behind them and then trod sedately towards the back of the house as Kitty began to ascend the stairs, back straight, chin high, incredibly conscious of Adam following behind her. At the top, he grasped her arm. His touch on her bare skin set her nerves tingling, and her breath caught in her throat.
‘Kitty. Give me a minute. I have something I need tae say to you.’
He stood close to her, his sheer size almost intimidating, but there was no fear in her heart. Rather, his touch and his nearness resurrected memories. Memories that, in their turn, dragged long-suppressed feelings to the surface and stirred forgotten yearnings that Kitty could not bear. She could not allow him to sweet talk her into...into...into anything. She snatched her arm from his grip and drew her shoulders back.
‘Unhand me, sir! You will bring scandal to me and to my family and I will not allow it.’
He took her hand this time and no amount of tugging could break his hold as he stared down at her.
‘There is no one tae see us and we will hear should anyone approach.’
She stilled, loath to give him the satisfaction of struggling against him, but if he imagined she would fall for his false charm again he was sorely mistaken. ‘Say what you must and then allow me to return to my guests.’
‘I...’
His chest rose as he heaved in a breath and his thick brows drew tight into a frown. She averted her gaze, feeling her nostrils flare with anger. How dare he come here, to her home, and put her in this odious position?
‘Say what you have to say.’ She aimed her words at his chest, determined not to be put at a disadvantage by looking up at him.
‘I know ye’re angry with me, Kitty. But I behaved as I did for the best. I explained it tae you that day and—even were ye then too young and innocent of the ways of the world tae fully understand—ye must look back now and know I was right. But you...’ He paused.
They were so close she could smell his cologne...musky and spicy...and feel the heat radiating from his body and the warmth of his breath as it stirred her hair. Slowly, his words penetrated the fury that clouded her brain. Even though she longed to throw his words back at him, she could not deny he had been right about the impracticality of what she had asked of him fifteen years ago. What she had begged of him.
But it does not change the fact that he lied to me. Over and over.
She reassembled her righteous anger and glared up at him.
‘But I?’ she prompted.
‘Ye wed just two weeks after I left!’
‘I—’ Her eyes na
rrowed. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Rob told me. Ye lied tae me...ye swore ye loved me, but ye didna!’ As his anger strengthened so, too, did his accent, bringing the young man she had known even more forcefully to mind. ‘It wasna me ye wanted—ye’d take any man tae be your husband, ye were that eager to snare some poor soul...sae desperate ye’d even take a man auld enough to be your own da.’
Only as those accusations tore from his mouth, as though ripped out of him, did Kitty understand that his desire to speak to her without being overheard had nothing to do with currying favour, or with trying to cajole her...to rekindle their love, or passion, or friendship, or whatever it had been...but everything to do with venting his anger. And that realisation revived, in all its heart-wrenching agony, the pain he had caused her.
She was the injured party here. It was she who had suffered...what right did he have to be angry?
‘And I bless the day I married Edgar.’ She snatched her hand away again, this time freeing it. She clutched the handrail on the balustrade to help steady her trembling frame, for she was shaking with fury at the injustice of him blaming her when it was he who had led her on, raising her hopes with his false declarations of love. She dragged her gaze up and down him, allowing her scorn full rein. ‘You were nothing! He, at least, was a real man. And I still mourn the day of his death.’
She fled along the landing, heading for the safety of the salon and other people. Once inside, she crossed the room to sit with Lady Radwell and Lady Charnwood to join in their conversation about the last few weeks of the Season, including Lady Charnwood’s ball the following night. Once again Kitty conversed by rote, at least half of her thoughts occupied with a silent diatribe against that despicable rogue, Kelridge. How dare he twist everything, insulting her and accusing her of inconstancy? Although, in all fairness, he was right that a match between the two of them would have been a disaster, given their unequal places in society. If, of course, he hadn’t known all along that he was the son of an earl. How was she supposed to know the truth when he had lied before?
The Earl with the Secret Past Page 5