Engaging the Earl (12 page)

She wore a dressing gown over her night rail, the white of which peeked out at her smooth throat. Walking behind her, he noted how the belted dressing gown emphasized her tiny waist and the soft curve of her hips in a way that her formal gowns—which fell loose over her midriff—did not.

She stopped in front of the doors to allow him to pull them open, which he did, coming close enough to catch the beguiling whiff of violets again. The night air rushed in to greet them, doing little to cool the heat gathering under his skin.

Vera slipped past them both, bounding out onto the terrace and out of view as Rand stepped out after Kat, closing the door behind them with a soft click. They stepped down off the terrace in silence and set to walking at a pace slightly faster than a mere stroll, the full moon providing the only light over the Hobart’s rolling, well-kept lawns.

Even though he did not look at her, his body felt her presence beside him keenly. His senses were alert to her every movement, to each soft inhale and exhale. He closed his eyes and swallowed, determined to drive the intense awareness between them away. “I understand you and Sinclair are moving up the wedding.”

“Yes. We see no reason to delay.”

He fixed his gaze ahead into the darkness, watching the blurry bouncing mass he knew to be Vera. “Indeed.”

“What was wrong with Toby?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean?”

Impatience edged her response. “I’m not a complete fool. His sister, Bea, says the war has…affected him.”

“He’ll be fine. I imagine it will take time.”

“He seemed to be seeing things, as though he was dreaming yet he wasn’t sleeping.”

“It is like a waking nightmare that keeps reoccurring,” he said.

She stilled, her eyes on him. “And yet it does not happen to everyone. Like you, for instance, you don’t suffer so, do you?”

He drew a sharp breath. “When one witnesses horrors most civilized beings cannot even begin to imagine, it is bound to have an impact.”

“I always hated the war and everything about it. I blamed it for taking you from me. But now I know that wasn’t the truth of it at all.”

Actually it was the complete and total truth, but she could never know it. She must always assume him to be a philandering rakehell with no hope of reform. “Some men are not meant to be faithful,” he said.

“Where is the fair Maid of Malagon this evening?”

“Sleeping in her bed, I presume. We are not in each other’s pockets.”

“I do expect faithfulness from Lord Sinclair, you know. He is very devoted to me.”

Pain lanced his chest at the thought of her in Sinclair’s bed. “The viscount’s devotion to you is clear for all to see.” She didn’t speak, but he heard her breath hitch and feared she was near tears. “You could never be happy with me, Kitty. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not.”

She stared straight ahead as they walked, refusing to look at him. “I know that now. It is well and good that I discovered it before it was too late.” Her words were punctuated by a distant bark followed by a splash. She groaned. “Talavera, you bad dog.”

He froze. “What did you call her?”

She walked ahead, shielding her face from his view. “We must retrieve her.”

He caught her arm, feeling the soft warmth of her flesh through the thin dressing gown fabric. “You called her Talavera. Is that her full name?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you name her that?”

She still looked out ahead, refusing to meet his eyes, the blue-green light of the moon slanting over her soft features. “You know why.”

“Tell me.”

She finally looked at him, a hard glint in her glistening eyes. “Must you complete my humiliation by forcing me to say it aloud?”

Talavera. He’d been badly injured and left on the battlefield for days while the killing raged around him. Both sides had claimed victory and the outside world saw Talavera as a great military triumph for Wellington, winning him a viscountcy and, eventually, a dukedom. As the great commander’s chief strategist, the acclaim had extended to Rand. Many saw Talavera as the battle that won Rand an earldom.

For Kat to pay him tribute by naming her beloved dog after his greatest wartime achievement both stunned and humbled him. He’d had no idea she’d followed his military career. “I’m honored,” he said in a soft voice. “Truly.”

She snatched her arm away from him. “Don’t be,” she said sharply, gesturing toward the sound of Vera’s yapping amidst splashing sounds. “Keep her. She’s yours now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you adore Vera. As she does you.”

“I don’t want anything that reminds me of you.” She spun around and left him, striding back toward the house, the hem of her dressing gown flapping indignantly about her ankles, making her look almost like an apparition in the blue night light. His emotions in chaos, he watched her disappear into the shadows of the house, just as she would soon vanish from his life for good.

Chapter Nine

“It is good of you to come, my lady. Your visits seem to help tremendously.” Mr. Milbank, the hospital administrator, escorted Kat to her carriage after she’d spent the afternoon visiting residents at the soldiers’ home.

“It is the least I can do.” She flushed with pleasure at having done something useful. The more time she spent visiting the soldiers, the more superfluous her social pursuits became. “I understood Mr. Ledworth is to leave soon.”

“It is so,” Mr. Milbank said as they stepped into the afternoon heat. “His episodes occur less frequently than when he first came to us.”

“Episodes?” Something tickled down Kat’s spine. “I have heard some soldiers are afflicted. Is it very common?”

Mr. Milbank’s expression shuttered. “This is hardly appropriate conversation for a lady’s ears.”

She halted in front of her father’s carriage. “Please be frank, sir,” she said in a firm voice. “If I am to be of any assistance at all to these men, surely it is best I know something of what ails them.”

Mr. Milbank swallowed hard. She knew it would be difficult for him to deny a lady’s command, even though she’d cloaked it in a polite request. “You will have heard of nostalgia.”

“Yes.” She hadn’t known what afflicted Toby had a name. “Go on.”

“It is characterized by a certain moroseness, as well as a loss of strength, sleep, and appetite.”

“And the waking nightmares.” Like Toby experienced.

He shot her a startled look. “I’m surprised you know of such things.”

She waived aside the comment. “How do you treat it?”

“We do not allow them more rest than is necessary. We attempt to keep them busy and to vary their occupations. Keeping regular hours and taking gymnastic recreation seems to help.”

“I see.” She nodded to the footman who rushed forward to open the carriage door and put down the step. “Thank you for your frank words, Mr. Milbank. It relieves my mind to know your good care has helped Mr. Ledworth become well enough to rejoin his family.”

He flushed with pride, bidding her farewell, his discomfort with her probing questions vanishing at her flattery. She settled in the carriage where Fanny awaited her.

“Was he there?” Fanny asked.

“Was who there?”

“You know who. The Earl of Randolph.”

“No, of course not.” She had not seen Rand since returning from the country a fortnight ago and was glad of it. She needed time away from him to recover from it all; his lack of devotion and her chagrin that he knew about Vera’s full name. Now he could easily surmise just how desperately she’d tried to follow his battle campaigns. How he must have laughed to know she’d pined for him all those years he’d been gone.

The earl hadn’t made a public appearance in weeks, but Rand remained a topic of great interest in the finest circles. If anything, his absence heightened the enigmatic and eligible new peer’s allure.

“He’s probably holed up with his mistress.” Kat grimaced at the thought. “She looks like she could keep a man busy.”

“Hmmm.”

Kat eyed her maid with suspicion. “What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”

“Not a thing.” Fanny lifted a shoulder. “I am merely your servant. What do I know?”

“But you have an opinion. Come now, Fanny, out with it.”

“I find the earl’s recent behavior to be out of character.”

“How so?”

“The earl is many things, but I never took him for a rakehell.”

“I saw it with my own eyes, as you well know. I thank the Lord every day that I didn’t cry off of my betrothal to Lord Sinclair. You were right about Randolph all along.”

“Hmmm.”

There it was again, the noncommittal noise that suggested Fanny had a definite opinion on the matter. “What is it?” Kat allowed her aggravation to show. “Surely you agree that Lord Sinclair will make a fine husband.”

“Yes, he’ll make you a good husband. But, mark my words, there’s something strange going on with the earl.”

Kat swallowed against the grief expanding in her chest. “Even if that is true, I’ve wasted too much time pining for Edward Stanhope. I must look forward.” It was the only way she’d survive this latest heartbreak. Analyzing and examining his character and motives would only prolong her suffering.

Fanny’s expression softened as if she understood. “Of course, soon you will be the Viscountess Sinclair,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. “That is something to celebrate.”

“Indeed,” Kat said with a firm nod. Yet, in her stomach, something sank a little further.

…

“What is she doing here?” Laurie asked sharply. His heart skittered at the sight of Elena Márquez-Navarro standing on the threshold of the Campbell’s parlor, looking like an Amazon queen ready to conquer all of London.

A large smile crossed Lexie’s face. “I invited her,” she said, leaving them to go to Elena’s side.

“Whatever for?” he asked, even though Lexie was too far away to hear.

“Both Lexie and Bea admire her greatly,” Kat answered somewhat sourly. “I know Bea thinks the Maid of Malagon is a paragon of progressive womanhood.”

Laurie’s face warmed. “The woman defies all convention.”

“Exactly, that’s what Bea seems to like most about her.”

“I don’t see Randolph with her.” Beside him, Kat seemed to stiffen. Laurie’s heartbeat stuttered. Surely she didn’t suspect his indiscretion with Elena? Casting a quick glance at her, he noted his betrothed appeared pale and on edge. “Are you unwell?”

She blinked up at him and her mask fell into place, just before she hit him with the brilliant smile that always used to distract him. Yet, for some reason, it no longer carried the same potency. Instead, the slow, sensually-confident smile of the Maid of Malagon came to his mind, warming his body. He shoved it away, angry at himself for playing Kat false.

What was the matter with him? He’d landed London’s reigning beauty, the incomparable who’d ruled the
ton
for five Seasons. Her father had even consented to move the wedding up several months, from just after Easter to late September. They would wed during the little Season, rather than waiting for the spring, doing away with the grand spectacle they’d originally planned for at the height of the Season.

Every eligible man with a title had pursued Kat and most still expressed considerable interest in her charms. Only Randolph showed no overt interest in her, perhaps because he had Elena in his bed. Laurie escorted Kat into dinner and focused his full attention on her, determined to put the aberration of his attraction to Elena out of his mind.

When the ladies withdrew after the meal, leaving the gentlemen to their port and cigars, Laurie grabbed the chance to escape unnoticed. Stepping out onto the terrace, he hurried down the stairs into the small, darkened garden, anxious to avoid anyone who might come out for air.

The smell of cheroot smoke alerted him that he had failed in his quest to be alone. He wondered why the fellow had come outside to smoke his cheroot instead of remaining in the dining room partaking with the other gentlemen. His eyes sharpening in the dark, he watched the glowing tip of the cheroot move toward a full, curved mouth that could belong to no man. “Good Lord! You smoke cheroots, too?”

Elena chuckled on her exhale, the throaty sound firing off all of his nerve endings. “It is why I am hiding in the garden,
vizconde
, I do not want to shock my hostess.”

“Is there anything you don’t do like a man?”

Dark eyes rested on him as she tilted her chin up to take another pull on the cheroot. “I don’t make love like a man, although I do take my pleasure when I desire it. I suppose that is as a man,
vizconde
.”

Or a whore. Those were the women who took carnal pleasure as they wanted, not well-born ladies. Yet he no longer thought of her as a strumpet, but rather as someone who did things on her own terms and relished doing so. Like how she savored that cheroot. The same way she’d enjoyed fencing. And making love.

She paused for a leisurely exhale of curling smoke which enveloped her in a gray-tinted haze. “I certainly don’t have the body of a man.”

“Where is Rand?” he asked sharply, trying to eradicate the image of her smooth bottom moving against his groin from his mind.

“Rand has decided to become a recluse, I think. I have not seen him in several days.”

“He does not require you to stay by his side?”

She smiled at that. “It might interest you to know the earl and I are no longer lovers.”

His body reacted to her unexpected announcement with distressing alacrity. Blood raced through his veins in an apparent rush to fill his groin. “Why do you think that would interest me?” he said curtly, barely able to get the words out above the roaring in his brain.

She chuckled again. “Because I think everything about me interests you,
vizconde
. Especially the idea of making love again.”

Beads of perspiration tickled his upper lip. “I beg to differ,
senorita
,” he said stiffly. “What passed between us can hardly be described as making love.”

He meant it as an insult to drive her away, but she gave no indication of taking offense. Instead, Elena stubbed the cheroot out against the tree in that unhurried way of hers. Moving to stand in front of him, her languid dark eyes held his captive. “Whatever you call it,
vizconde
, you would like to do it again, no?”

The scent of cinnamon and jasmine washed over him and he was drowning in her all over again. Like a magnet helpless in the face of an undeniable attraction, he stepped closer to her and dragged her into his arms, his lips slamming down on hers.

Lord, but she knew how to kiss. Her tongue teased his, boldly exploring his mouth, her teeth nipped and scraped against his lips, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. The woman kissed as he suspected she did everything else; with a full interest and engagement he hadn’t experienced in a female before.

Sounds of music and muted chatter drifted out to them. Someone had thrown open the terrace doors. He pulled away with great reluctance. The men would have joined the ladies by now. “We should return,” he whispered in a pant against her neck. “It won’t be long before someone notes our absence.”

“Will you come to me later,
vizconde
?”

The thinking part of him screamed against it. To accept Elena’s invitation would be thoroughly disreputable, not to mention unspeakably disloyal to Kat. Only a true cad would accept. And, besides, he didn’t even know where she lived. But he would find out.

“Yes.”

…

“It’s not the best day for a riding party” —Lexie eyed the gray clouds— “but as I am in excellent company, the weather hardly matters.”

Rand murmured some appropriately gallant response to the chit’s tiresome flirtations. Miss Campbell was clearly out to land herself an earl. She might be a suitable marital candidate if he didn’t find her incessant chattering so damn irritating. After all, he wasn’t looking for love and had no interest in courting any woman except the one he could not have.

Glancing up ahead to where Hobart rode, he noted Toby’s pallor and subdued countenance, yet detected no trace of the madness that had gripped him in the country a fortnight ago. They’d left the city to spend the day in Richmond, where they could enjoy wider expanses of space in which to ride. Keeping an eye on Hobart was the sole reason he’d consented to join this tiresome all-day riding excursion. The last thing he desired was to spend the day in close company with any group that included Kitty and Sinclair.

She hadn’t spared him a glance beyond the polite greetings they’d exchanged this morning. The betrothed couple rode up ahead, Kat talking animatedly with Sinclair, who for once did not have that usual love-struck expression on his face, although Rand couldn’t understand why.

Kitty was at her loveliest today, gleaming with radiance despite the dour weather, in a deep blue riding costume which showed her slender form to extreme advantage. The sapphire blue of her eyes glistened in the outdoor light and those cropped curls, under a jaunty feathered hat, illuminated her delicate facial features. Just looking at her made his chest ache.

More masculine parts of his body responded as well. Normally, he was a man with strong sexual appetites, which he’d routinely satisfied. Yet he hadn’t had a woman since ending carnal relations with Elena. Lately his body only stirred with interest when Kat was in the vicinity, and it was almost as though being with another woman now would somehow be disloyal to her. That ridiculous notion should resolve itself once Kat became Sinclair’s wife. He shoved the image of the viscount rutting over Kat out of his mind before it could fully take root and drive him into an unreasonably jealous furor.

Forcing his eyes away, he let Lexie’s incessant chatter roll over him for a few more minutes before edging his mount closer to Toby’s. “You are quiet today.”

“You should know that I’ve come to a decision.”

“And what is that?”

“I’m going away in a few days’ time.”

“Going away? To where?”

“Doctor Drummond has a clinic in the country.” Toby’s pale determined eyes met his. “He is an expert on matters of nostalgia and believes he can help me with my episodes.”

“In what way?”

“He says there are things one can do.”

Hope shafted through him. “Such as?”

“Keep busy, keep a regular schedule, and take exercise. Perhaps even music.”

“Music?” Something shifted deep in his chest. “How can that be of any help?”

“Drummond believes the appropriate music can soothe the mind.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Fawson, who made some laughing noises about a racing bet to Toby, and before long the two of them galloped off, racing across the wide open space. Rand noticed Miss Campbell heading in his direction and, eager to shed himself of her cloying presence, he gave his mount his head. Content to ride by himself, he cantered across the open field away from the riding party.