She fixed her gaze on her two companions and resolutely refrained from looking to see if he had followed her into the room.
She did not care.
She would not care if she never saw him, or spoke to him, ever again. And she didn’t even want to think about him. She hoped he would soon tire of his new life and return to Scotland and leave his estates in the hands of his uncle and his steward, who—it was said—had run the place during much of the late Lord Kelridge’s time. Eventually, however, a shadow fell across their trio and, when her companions fell silent, Kitty had no choice but to acknowledge Adam’s brooding presence.
His bright blue eyes bore into Kitty. ‘I must bid you goodnight, Lady Fenton. My thanks for your hospitality.’
‘You are most welcome, Lord Kelridge. I trust meeting so many new faces has not proved too onerous?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Lord Kelridge,’ Lady Charnwood addressed Adam. ‘If you are free tomorrow evening, might you honour me with your attendance at my ball?’
Kitty stiffened in dismay. How had she not foreseen that he was likely to be invited to the same entertainments as her family? She needed time, and space, to think about his return without being thrust headlong into his company. It would be nigh on impossible to avoid him for the remaining weeks of the Season. Her nerves skittered as her stomach turned over.
Adam bowed to Lady Charnwood. ‘It would be my pleasure, ma’am.’
‘Splendid. I shall send the invitation in the morning...no need for a formal reply.’
Adam smiled at her before returning his gaze to Kitty. ‘I wonder if I might beg the indulgence of a private word, Lady Fenton?’
Kitty kept any sign of emotion from her expression. If only she could refuse without giving rise to speculation and rumours she would do so, but the wretch knew very well good manners would force her to agree. She rose unhurriedly to her feet, smoothing down her skirts with hands that trembled with that suppressed fury.
‘Pray excuse me, ladies,’ she said and trod steadily and deliberately over to the nearby window.
‘What more can you possibly have to say to me? Have we both not said enough?’
‘I regret my outburst and I apologise. Blame my upbringing if you will.’
His wry tone indicated that he knew all too well the rumours flying around the ton about his life as a boy and a youth. Few facts were known about those years and the man himself was less than forthcoming, so speculation filled the void. All that was known of him were his professional qualifications and glowing testimonials for his work as an architect from a handful of well-connected clients, but they revealed nothing about the character of the man.
Kitty forced herself to face him, fixing her gaze on his mouth...a mistake, as it happened, because her treacherous mind insisted on conjuring up the slide of his lips over hers...the stroke of his tongue...and her heart, annoyingly, fluttered in her chest. She did not want these memories, or the feelings they aroused, but...oh, those kisses! She stifled her sigh. Edgar had never kissed her in such a manner. She did not even know if it was natural, for she had never kissed a man other than those two. She dragged her gaze from his mouth to his eyes.
‘I will,’ she said. At the lift of his brows she elaborated. ‘I shall blame your upbringing. A true gentleman would never say such things to a lady.’
‘Ah. No. Of course he would not.’
‘Have you quite finished? I must return to my guests.’ She started to step past him.
‘One more thing.’
Kitty paused. ‘I am listening.’
‘When we meet, might we agree to do so with at least the appearance of civility?’
Civility! Who would have thought all that youthful passion could be distilled down into mere politeness? Kitty buried her hurt, telling herself it was a false emotion, borne out of memories and broken dreams, and it had no place in the present.
‘I pride myself on my civility, sir, no matter the circumstances, and you have my word that I shall treat you no differently to any other gentleman of my acquaintance when our paths cross during what is left of the Season. Now, it has been interesting to renew our acquaintance, but I see our guests are beginning to depart and I must say goodbye.’
She inclined her head and moved past him to join Robert as he bade farewell to the Radwells. There was a flurry of departures and, when Kitty had the time to notice, Adam had gone.
Chapter Five
The following evening—quite late, as it was already dusk—Adam presented himself at the Charnwoods’ house for Lady Charnwood’s ball, his mind full of Kitty, as it had been all day, even after he’d lain awake half the night, going over every single word, every single look they had exchanged the night before. He told himself it meant nothing. There was nothing left between them...certainly no tender emotions. Only hurt and rejection and deceit. But despite that, and despite his hurt at the speed and the ease with which she had recovered from their ill-fated romance, he had looked forward all day to seeing her again, knowing she would, without doubt, be here tonight.
He entered the ballroom and stopped short. If the Fenton dinner had been intimidating, this was utterly overwhelming. So many people. So much chatter and laughter. The ballroom soared two storeys with three massive chandeliers suspended from its high ceiling, and wall sconces all around were lit. The effect was magical as jewels glittered, reflecting the candlelight, and gowns in a myriad of hues swished and swirled around the dance floor. The dancing had already begun, accompanied by a quartet of musicians sitting on a raised dais at one end of the room, and the combined heat from bodies and from candles was already tangible despite the row of French windows along the wall opposite having already been flung wide.
Adam tamped down his unease as he searched the crowd for his hostess and finally spied her standing with Tolly and another lady. His anxiety subsided. At least he had two acquaintances in this heaving mass. He threaded his way through the guests and bowed to the group.
‘Good evening, my lady. Tolly.’
‘Oh, you have come. I am pleased.’ Lady Charnwood turned to the other lady in their group—a stunningly beautiful female of around twenty, he guessed, with hair of a deep golden colour and eyes the exact same hue. If ever a woman could be described as the epitome of femininity, it was surely this one. ‘Lady Phoebe Crawshaw, allow me to introduce Lord Kelridge.’
Adam bowed as Lady Phoebe curtsied. Her unusual eyes examined him with a frankness he found refreshing. ‘I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord.’ Her voice was deep and somewhat husky. ‘I have been wondering when we would meet.’
‘How so, my lady?’
She shrugged gracefully. ‘You must know you are much discussed and speculated upon in these circles. And I...’ she slanted a look through her lashes at Tolly ‘...am of a naturally curious disposition.’
Tolly sucked in one cheek and his eye narrowed. Tonight...presumably in honour of the occasion...he had swapped his leather eyepatch to one made of silk. ‘You will not persuade me, my lady, so you may as well save your breath.’
Lady Phoebe pouted. ‘Then there is no point in conversing with you further, Mr Trewin. Lord Kelridge...a waltz is about to begin and I am in sore need of a partner. Would you care to ask me to dance?’
Adam bowed. ‘It will be my pleasure, my lady.’
He held out his hand. Lady Phoebe laid her gloved hand in his, but then hesitated.
‘I presume you do know how to waltz?’
Adam laughed. ‘Scotland is quite enlightened, my lady. Aye, we know the waltz.’
He led her on to the floor and found a space, conscious of the many looks in their direction, not all of them benign.
Adam placed his hand on Lady Phoebe’s waist and took her right hand in his left.
‘Why do I get the feeling there is something here I dinna understand?’ he asked. ‘
We appear to be the centre of attention.’
She shrugged and smiled up at him prettily. ‘The men are envious of you and I imagine the ladies are envious of me.’
She was no shy miss with her opinions, that was for sure. ‘And what is it that Mr Trewin will not be persuaded of by you?’
She laughed, revealing small and even white teeth. ‘I knew you and I would get along. I do like a man who gets straight to the point. I requested to see Mr Trewin’s scars and he is being most disobliging in that respect. That is all.’
Adam laughed and, as he did so, he glanced across the room, his gaze clashing with Kitty’s as she stood in another man’s embrace awaiting the opening bars of the music. The suddenness of it took his breath away and his heart lurched in his chest. He tore his eyes from hers, cursing inwardly, telling himself again that it meant nothing.
He forced himself to concentrate on dancing because—for all his brave declaration about the waltz—in truth he was not at all well practised in the steps. Time and again, though, he found his attention on Kitty as she glided gracefully around the floor in her partner’s arms, her pale blue gown floating around her ankles.
‘Are you acquainted with Lady Fenton, or is it Lord Silverdale commanding your interest, sir?’
His partner’s slightly mocking question jerked Adam’s attention back to her.
‘I dined with the Fentons last evening,’ he said, ‘and I was wondering where I had seen Her Ladyship’s partner before. Now you have said his name, I do recall it was in the House of Lords the other day.’
He forced himself to concentrate on Lady Phoebe until the end of their dance, when he led her from the floor, back to where Tolly stood with Robert, Lady Charnwood having moved on. The other men immediately vied with one another to pay Lady Phoebe the most extravagant compliments and Adam took advantage of their preoccupation to take his leave of them. He then patrolled the perimeter of the ballroom, scanning the guests. It wasn’t long before he spotted Kitty at the very moment she slipped out through one of the French windows. Adam headed for the open window nearest to him and paused.
He welcomed the cool of the night air after the heat of the ballroom and breathed deeply as he took stock of the narrow, stone-flagged terrace outside. Lamps were set at intervals along the house wall, throwing alternating areas of light and shade across the paving. There were a handful of others on the terrace but, of Kitty, there was no sign. A growl of disapproval rumbled in Adam’s chest and he stepped out on to the flagstones even as his common sense roared at him not to be a fool, that to follow her outside would be to suggest an interest in her that even he was not certain existed. A wise man would bide his time and sort out his own inner turmoil first.
He ignored his own advice.
He would just make sure she was safe. He strode to the balustrade that edged the terrace and slowly rotated. Finally, he spied her, standing at the far end of the flagged area, in a patch of shadow, her back to him and her head tipped back as she gazed up at the night sky. The new moon was a mere crescent suspended above the neighbouring rooftops while innumerable stars spangled the vast darkness overhead.
‘Ye shouldna be oot here alone.’
He spoke softly, but she started none the less and spun to face him. He could not read her expression here in the shadows, but he could recognise the tension in her body.
‘Why ever not?’
‘Someone might take advantage of ye.’
She laughed, folding her arms. ‘Nonsense. I know all the guests here tonight and this garden is entirely enclosed. You may leave me, safe in the knowledge I shall come to no harm.’
Adam stepped closer. She stepped back. He halted, his hands itching to stroke the bare skin of her arm above her glove, and he closed his fingers into his palms, clenching his hands to keep them from straying. How could she have this effect on him? How could he yearn to touch her and yet, at the same time, long to fling her perfidy in her face again? Her heartbreak had lasted a mere two weeks, and the urge to retaliate...to hurt her in return...beat deep inside him. But...alongside that urge was the desire to simply talk to her. Connect with her. Understand her. And he retained enough awareness to know that would not happen if they argued every time they met. He swallowed down that myriad of confusing emotions.
‘I saw you dancing,’ said Kitty. ‘What did you make of The Incomparable?’
It soothed his wounded pride a little to learn that she had noticed him.
‘What is The Incomparable?’
‘Not what. Who. Lady Phoebe Crawshaw. That is what she is called by the gentlemen—it is the fashion to be in love with her, you know.’
Adam’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light on the terrace and he searched Kitty’s expression for a sign...any sign...that she experienced anything like the tumult of emotions that churned within him, but her expression was serene. His gaze lowered to her décolletage. Did her bosom rise and fall more rapidly than it should? Or was that mere wishful thinking?
‘Is it indeed?’ he said.
‘It is. So I hope you will prostrate yourself at her feet at some point before the end of the Season, or you will be declared a very poor sort of a fellow.’
Her tone lightly mocked. Surely she could not speak of such matters so casually if she still felt anything for him? Not that he wanted her to feel anything for him...other than as a sop to his pride. He forced a laugh.
‘I concede the lady is beautiful, but I have never been one to follow the herd and Lady Phoebe isna quite to my taste.’ He moved closer to Kitty, angling his body to shield her from the view of others on the terrace, and lowered his voice, keen to provoke a reaction beyond that of social chit-chat. ‘She is too young and too bold. I prefer my women more refined.’
‘Your women...’ Kitty spoke slowly, staring up at him, wide-eyed, as her chest rose.
‘Aye.’
His voice deepened, turning husky. He succumbed to temptation, against all his better judgement. He reached out with his forefinger and traced her arm from shoulder to inner elbow, her skin warm and smooth, and he noticed her involuntary shiver at his touch. Kitty’s teeth captured her full lower lip. He could still taste her, in his memory, and his blood surged. He leaned in to her, his cheek tantalisingly close to hers. Her breathing quickened, coming in little gasps and, encouraged, Adam turned his head to brush his lips over her satin-soft skin.
Tension flowed off Kitty in waves, the air between them charged with expectation, like the air before a thunderstorm. Adam fingered an errant curl, just behind her ear, then he took her lobe between his teeth and nipped gently. Just once.
She gasped and he sensed the shiver that racked her. She turned her face to his and their lips met, tantalisingly, fleetingly, and she gasped again as she jerked away from him.
‘No!’
She seemed to fold into herself, wrapping her arms defensively around her waist. ‘No. We cannot. We agreed to treat one another with civility. We cannot revive our old...friendship. I have no wish to travel that path again.’
Relief and regret clashed within him in a swirl of confusion, his heart still yearning for her even as his head rejected such romantic nonsense. Why on earth was he playing with fire? Why would he risk his heart again? How could he ever trust her? He dug deep to revive his anger and his hurt over the lies she had told him, both with her words and with her kisses.
‘No more do I.’
He cursed himself silently for exposing himself—he couldn’t bear for her to imagine he still harboured feelings for her when he could not even unravel his own tangled feelings.
Provoking her anger seemed the safest course, for both of them.
‘Let us blame the darkness and us being out here alone together. It was easy...natural, even...for us to slip into old habits.’
Kitty stiffened. ‘Old habits?’
* * *
Why, oh, why h
ad she come out here alone? She had seen him watching her from across the ballroom and still she had ventured outside. Then, instead of joining another group, she had wandered alone to the edge of the terrace.
Did I, deep down, hope he would follow me?
Whatever her intention, she couldn’t deny she had set a dangerous game in motion. She had been a hair’s breadth from allowing him to kiss her, and he...her heart lurched...he had accepted her lack of refusal as an opportunity. She would end up hurt again.
Adam shrugged. ‘You cannot blame me for forgetting our history when we were getting along so well,’ he said. ‘And you cannot deny we are both considerably less angry that we were last night.’
Stomach churning, Kitty took refuge in attack.
‘I thought we had an agreement, my lord. Had I suspected you would take my civility as an invitation to intimacy, I would have been considerably less amiable. Allow me to explain. The reason for my conversing with you as I would any fellow guest is that, once the shock of meeting you again faded, I realised that anger is a waste of my energy. Such strong emotion about a person or an event can only make sense if my feelings are still engaged and they are not.’
Her emotions roiled and boiled within her, alongside a hefty dollop of shame, but she contained them all, desperate not to reveal how he affected her. Still. After all this time. After all his lies. This was why society had rules for young girls—rules to protect their virtue and their reputation. And because Kitty had been unwise enough—and naive enough—to welcome Adam’s kisses all those years ago, he would naturally assume her present morals were equally lax.
The Earl with the Secret Past Page 6