The Danger in Tempting an Earl (7 page)

Pulling her a little closer, he whispered in her ear, “You were an innocent when last we met, while I was a man with some experience. It goes without saying that there were certain subjects we could not discuss.”

Oh dear God, she was going to burst into flames right there on the dance floor. “We ought not even discuss such things now,” she muttered. How she was capable of speech in the midst of such discussion was beyond her.

“Oh, Kate,” he told her cheerily as he spun her about. “I only have your best interests at heart, and while you may be opposed to the thought of remarrying right now, I have every intention of getting you to change your mind. Indeed, I plan on seeing you properly settled now that I’ve returned, and I shall do so by helping you find a husband.”

“A wha-a-a-t?” Surely he was joking.

“You may not think you need one, but I know you, Kate—you’re a romantic at heart, always have been since you were a little girl. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten how fascinated you were by the story of Odysseus and Penelope. It wouldn’t do for you to live out the remainder of your days without a man at your side, or in your bed, if you prefer.” He winked.

Katherine gasped, but before she could think of an appropriate response, Lucien said, “I know I ruined things by staying away as long as I did without sending word to you, but I still think that our history offers us a closeness that ought to allow me to be direct with you without you getting overly appalled, especially since you know how deeply I care for you.”

“I’m very pleased to have you back,” she told him. “Even though you’re being terribly bold with the advice you’re giving.”

There was something wolfish about him as he pressed her closer still. “I am simply all too aware of the pleasure that can be had between a man and a woman, and I would hate to see you miss out.”

If she spoke now, she knew she would stammer like an imbecilic fool, so she held silent while the spicy scent of him washed over her, caressing her senses and drawing out an awareness of him that she’d never sensed before. It was making her feel rather dizzy.

“So,” he went on in a very businesslike manner (clearly without sensing her lack of composure, which was probably for the best), “I shall start looking for a suitable gentleman for you—someone handsome enough and smart enough to hold your interest.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” she said, finding her voice. “As I’ve said, all I want right now is to forget all this talk of courtship so you and I can make up for lost time. What I truly desire is a friend, not a husband or a lover, for that matter.”

“Very well,” he acquiesced, “but if you happen to change your mind, I do hope you’ll let me know so I can find you someone of whom I approve.”

Katherine felt her whole body tense up. The way he said it made her wonder if perhaps he’d disapproved of Charles and might know the truth about her marriage, but she could see no trace of such knowledge in his features. She breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes,” she said. “If I ever decide to take a husband or”—she hesitated as she struggled with being as forward as he had been—“a lover . . .” Lucien looked annoyingly amused as she repeated that word. “. . . then you shall be the first to know.”

Bowing his head toward her ear, he quietly whispered, “I certainly hope so.”

The maelstrom of emotion that flooded through her was enough to leave her not only breathless but also imagining the most wicked things possible—not with a faceless stranger she’d yet to encounter, but with Lucien, of all people. Good Lord, whatever was she going to do?

Chapter 6

“I
believe it’s time for the fireworks,” Lucien said when the waltz ended and they stepped away from the dance floor. “Let’s go outside so we can find a good place from which to view them before it gets too crowded.”

Katherine accepted his arm with only the briefest hesitation. There was a most delightful blush to her cheeks, but her eyes held a wariness about them that made Lucien wonder if perhaps he’d been too bold toward her when he’d spoken of lovers, passion and secret desires.

It was time for him to pull back a little, so rather than pursue the issue, he said instead, “We can have our portraits drawn in the pumpkin carriage once the fireworks are over.”

“What a splendid idea. I should like that very much,” she said as they passed through the throng of people gathering on the terrace and started down the steps toward the lawn where they’d spotted the duke and his mother, the duchess.

“Oh look, I see that Mr. Goodard is there as well, along with the Winstons and the Huntleys.”

“But who is that lady with the blonde hair standing next to the duke?” Katherine asked. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her before.”

Spotting the lady in question, Lucien had to admit that he didn’t know either. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough,” he said as they stepped down onto the gravelly path at the foot of the stairs. Crossing it, they headed for the lawn.

“Even with her mask there can be no denying her beauty,” Katherine murmured.

There was something so utterly sad about the way she said it—a sense of melancholy that reminded Lucien of her reaction earlier in the evening when he’d complimented her on her looks. Once again, he wondered if it might be possible for her not to realize how beautiful she truly was. Intent on setting her to right, he halted their progress and turned her toward him. “Indeed there cannot,” he said. Her entire posture seemed to wither before his eyes, and he knew then beyond any shadow of a doubt that Katherine’s confidence in herself had been drastically shaken during his absence. There would be a better opportunity to discuss the reason for this later, however, so he merely looked her squarely in the eye as he continued with what was the absolute truth. “And yet she pales in comparison to you.”

“Lucien, I . . .”

“You are beautiful, Kate,” he told her firmly. “I always thought you knew that.”

Katherine’s lips parted ever so slightly as if she meant to say something, but instead of words came a rush of air. Her eyes glistened, and she looked more vulnerable than she’d done at the age of six when she’d sprained her ankle after falling from her horse. Her bottom lip had quivered then, Lucien recalled, but she hadn’t shed a tear, and he knew that she wouldn’t do so now either, no matter how difficult this conversation might be for her. He decided to cheer her up a bit by saying, “Besides, most gentlemen prefer brunettes anyway.”

It took a moment, but then she smiled. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“Well, whatever you’ve heard is all wrong. Blondes can be had by the dozen in England, whereas brunettes and redheads . . . well, don’t even get me started on those.”

To his delight, she finally laughed and slapped him playfully on the arm. “You’re absolutely incorrigible.”

“My lady, I never said that I wasn’t.” Winking at her, he resumed walking, only too well aware of how desperately he longed to haul her against him so he could kiss away the pain from behind her lovely green eyes. If this was Crossby’s doing, Lucien had a good mind to march into hell and drag the man out by his hair so he could challenge him. But, for the meantime, he somehow managed to keep his rising anger at bay and said, “By the way, I do believe Mr. Goodard might be perfect for you.”

The look of horror on Katherine’s face was absolutely charming. Lucien smiled to himself, for he had known that Katherine would balk at the idea.

“You cannot be serious,” she said.

“He’s a very amicable gentleman once you get to know him.”

“Well, in that case, I suggest you pair him off with Lady Julie instead—she’s also very amicable.” The sweet smile she gave him was not to be ignored, for it was laced not only with irony but also with . . . dare he hope . . . a touch of exasperation?

“I suppose I could, but where would that leave me?”

She eyed him assessingly. “Since you’re so eager for us to speak our minds, I may as well tell you that it will never work. She’s entirely wrong for you.”

“Is that so?”

“Quite.”

“Well, if not her, then who? Who would you suggest I marry?”

“Well, I . . . ,” she started, but her words trailed off into thin air.

“Yes?”

“As your friend, I would recommend that you take a moment to consider your options, since marriage is, after all, for life. You wouldn’t want to leap too hastily into something you cannot get out of again.” Her words, as wise as they were, were tight and concise, as if she’d shut herself off emotionally as she’d said them. “Besides, you did promise to postpone a courtship in favor of spending more time with me.”

Lucien nodded. “You’re right, although considering my situation, I won’t be able to do so indefinitely. If anything were to happen to me, the Roxberry title would go to my second cousin, George.”

Katherine scrunched her nose. “The ginger-haired fellow who thinks himself superior to everyone and once threw your cat down the stairs?”

“Precisely.”

“Well, we can’t allow that to happen.”

“So you see my dilemma? The sooner I marry and produce an heir, the sooner I’ll stop Mama and Grandmamma from throwing themselves into the Thames—which is precisely what they’ll do if George inherits.”

“Right. Well, in that case, there’s really nothing for it, I suppose. You
must
get yourself married.” She looked at him conspiratorially. “Let’s contemplate it this coming week, shall we?”

“When I take you fishing?”

She laughed—a sound he’d dearly missed. “Or after our race, which I have every intention of winning.”

A
bright burst of color exploded in the air. Looking ahead, Katherine nodded politely at her host, the Duke of Kingsborough, who had turned toward them with a smile just as the next firework rose in the sky. It was accompanied by a loud bang coming directly from Katherine’s right, and as she turned her head instinctively toward it, she saw to her horror that a woman whom she did not recognize was hanging limply in the arms of Mr. Neville, heir to the Marquess of Wolvington.

Dear God in heaven, she’s been shot!

Chapter 7

I
t was like a scene taken from a nightmare. Fireworks continued to explode against the night sky while the crowd watching from the terrace cheered and clapped, oblivious to what had transpired on the lawn below. Katherine spun toward Lucien, but he was already leaving her side and rushing to help. “Stay back,” he said as she made to follow.

“I can’t just stand here and do nothing,” she muttered, distressed by the fear in Neville’s eyes.

“Get her on the ground,” the duke said as he removed his jacket for the victim to lie on. He shoved a wad of fabric toward Neville, who was now kneeling at the lady’s side, alongside Lucien, Lord Winston and Mr. Goodard. “Put this on her wound, add some pressure and try to stop the bleeding. Winston, I’m leaving you in charge here while I try to find out what the devil happened.” The duke then shot to his feet and took off at a run, heading toward the terrace.

Katherine gasped as the woman’s sleeve was pulled back to reveal an ugly, blood-smeared wound. Seeing how quickly it was seeping through the compress, Katherine started grabbing at her skirt with trembling fingers, but a hand stopped her. “Don’t ruin your gown,” the Duchess of Kingsborough told her. “There are plenty more cravats and handkerchiefs for us to use should we need them.”

“We should probably get her inside,” Lord Winston said. His voice was gruff. “The wound will need cleaning, and I’m sure she’ll be more comfortable too.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the duchess said, her mouth set in a firm line of determination. “And since we’ve no way of knowing how serious the lady’s injury is, I suggest we hurry.”

Following the duchess’s orders, Neville scooped the woman up into his arms and strode quickly toward the stairs leading up to the terrace, while everyone, with the exception of Lucien and Katherine, followed behind.

Katherine’s throat worked convulsively as Lucien came toward her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She ignored his question. “Shouldn’t you be going with them so you can help?”

“I fear I’ll only get in the way,” he said. “Her wound needs to be cleaned, and that won’t require more than two, possibly three, people at most. Besides, I’m sure the duke will have sent for a physician to tend to his guest.”

“She just . . . she looked so awfully pale. And her face . . .” Katherine met Lucien’s gaze and immediately recognized the truth that glowed in his eyes. “That was Lady Rebecca, wasn’t it?”

Lucien nodded. “Yes, I daresay it was.”

Katherine nodded as if in a daze. She felt weak and out of breath. Never in her life had she witnessed such an awful occurrence.

“Come,” Lucien said as he placed his arm around her shoulders. “You’ve had a shock. I think it best if I take you home so you can rest.”

Katherine blinked, realizing that he was absolutely right. Never before had she known such a desperate longing to be with her daughter, for seeing a woman almost killed before her very eyes was a stark reminder of how fragile life could be. “Yes,” she said, allowing him to guide her forward, “I would appreciate that a great deal.”

“A
ny news on the mill in Ancoats, Mr. Simmons?” Katherine asked her secretary the following morning as she leafed through the pile of papers that were spread out before her on the desk. She still had trouble deciphering some of the legal jargon, but with Mr. Simmons’s help, it was getting easier.

“I was just about to mention it to you, my lady, since I just received a letter from the owner this morning, assuring me that your terms have been met.”

“And are you inclined to believe him?”

“It would be foolish of him to lie when we can easily check the validity of it. Then again, he may have underestimated your dedication and think you unlikely of calling on him again anytime soon.”

Katherine pondered this a moment. “You’re probably right. Would you mind riding up there to ensure that what he says is true?” she asked, recalling how filthy the factory had been when she’d first visited it. It was clear that Charles hadn’t cared about the work conditions at the mill while he’d been alive, but Katherine felt differently about it. As an investor, she had a responsibility toward the people who were helping her build and sustain her fortune. “I would come with you, but it would be difficult bringing Sophia along, and I’d rather not leave her.”

“You needn’t explain,” Mr. Simmons told her kindly. “You’re a wonderful mother to her, my lady. The rest of the staff is in agreement.”

It meant a lot to Katherine that he said so, for she’d been nothing but a bundle of nerves in recent years, always feeling as if she’d been walking on glass. Being allowed the opportunity to succeed at something was gradually restoring some of her shattered confidence. “I’ll start making the necessary arrangements, then,” Mr. Simmons said. “Perhaps you even have some new ideas that you wish for me to discuss while I’m up there—ways in which to increase profitability?”

“Oh . . . I don’t know. Allow me to think on it,” Katherine told him. “Thank you for looking out for my investments for me. Your help and advice have been invaluable to me since my husband’s death.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady, for it is my job to do so.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he hesitated.

“What is it?” Katherine asked.

“I hope you won’t mind my saying so, but I must admit that I was surprised when you initially told me of your decision to continue with your husband’s work. It’s unusual for a lady to show such interest in these things . . . men’s things, if you’ll forgive me. I confess that I imagined you’d simply leave it all to me, and . . . well, I’m embarrassed to say that I didn’t think you capable. But I am impressed with the decisions you’ve made so far. The companies you’ve chosen to invest in have since given high returns. Indeed, your income has almost doubled over the course of the last year, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Katherine couldn’t help but blush. It pleased her that Mr. Simmons had noticed how well her hard work had paid off. She’d spent weeks secluded in the study after Charles’s death, going over his documents and trying to get to grips with all the ledgers—the vast records of Cresthaven’s income and expenses.

It had been a daunting job, but it had also been a very rewarding one, for she was now aware of the specifics regarding each company her late husband had invested in and could discuss them properly with Mr. Simmons, allowing her the chance to be involved.

After sinking a portion of her own money into a couple of companies, she found it particularly fitting that she should be a part of the process. “You are very kind to say so,” she told the secretary, “even though I still have a lot to learn.”

A knock at the door brought Katherine’s attention to Carter, the butler, who had just arrived. “Lord Roxberry is here to see you, my lady—I have shown him into the parlor.”

Katherine’s heart did a funny skip. After returning home last night, she’d spent a great deal of time contemplating the peculiar effect Lucien had had on her at the ball. Removed from the fairy-tale splendor of it all, her mind had cleared, and she’d decided that the way in which her nerves had quaked and her heart had pounded in his presence had been nothing more than the product of a magical setting, a few insinuating words from her friend and perhaps a bit too much champagne.

Today was a new day, however, and she had a job to do. If Lucien insisted on getting himself married, then she was going to make certain that he attached himself to the right woman. It was possible that Lady Julie would turn out to be the perfect candidate, for although she’d implied otherwise, Katherine hadn’t dismissed the idea, considering how smitten Lucien had seemed to be with the lady. But since this was her dearest friend’s future at stake, Katherine wanted to be absolutely sure that he was making the right decision. Therefore, being the practical sort, Katherine had made a list of all the ladies she thought suitable (and with whom she could see herself enjoying tea or shopping for fabrics, which of course was an essential factor).

“Thank you, Carter,” she told her butler as she gathered up her papers and put them in a neat pile. “Perhaps you could ask if he’d like a cup of tea. I’ll just be a moment.”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Oh, and Carter?” The butler halted and turned back toward his mistress. “Please inform Cook that his lordship has arrived and that she should start to prepare the picnic basket.”

With a nod, Carter strode off. Katherine rose, as did Mr. Simmons. “We’ll talk again later,” she said as she went to the door. “We’ve yet to decide if we’re going to sell the stock in that coal mine in Durhamshire.”

Heading toward the parlor, she stopped briefly in front of the mirror that hung in the foyer and took a quick peek at her reflection. Noting that she looked a little pale, she pinched her cheeks but then admonished herself for her silliness. This was Lucien she was meeting—a close friend whom she’d met on countless occasions before and who was hardly going to care one way or another about her coloring. The thought stilled her as she gazed back into the eyes of her reflection, unnerved to discover how much Lucien’s perception of her suddenly mattered. She sighed. Lord, she was being ridiculous! And yet . . . a faint voice whispered to her that things had been different between them last night and that she had not been as indifferent to him as she would have liked herself to believe. Pushing a lock of hair back into place, Katherine quickly dismissed the notion. Now was not the time to be having fanciful ideas, especially when the gentleman in question was presently waiting to see her.

But when she stepped into the parlor with a smile on her face, ready to greet him, her mouth went instantly dry and her stomach almost felt as if it was turning itself inside out—a feeling that was not in the least bit comfortable but apparently hard to avoid as she took in Lucien’s appearance.

Gone was his black evening attire and his neatly groomed hair. Instead, he wore a dark blue jacket with beige, snug-fitting breeches and black Hessian boots. His hair was slightly mussed, with a few stray tendrils brushing against his forehead. Good heavens, he looked like a prime figure of a man as he stood there casually gazing out of one of the windows. Perhaps she ought to have taken greater care in selecting her gown that morning, because right then, without the slightest bit of warning, her conviction that Lucien did not affect her in any way fell apart in its entirety. There could be no denying that without as much as looking at her, he’d taken her breath away. The realization flustered her, but she had no time to consider the implication of it, since he turned his head just then, spotted her and immediately came toward her.

“Good morning,” he said, bowing from a respectable distance.

Disappointment swept over Katherine. No kiss upon her hand?
Idiot,
she chided herself as she returned his greeting. It was midmorning, the magic of the previous evening had departed the instant Lady Rebecca had been shot, and considering how well acquainted she and Lucien were with each other, it would be absurd for him to go around kissing her hand at every available opportunity. Still, she couldn’t help but be a little put out by him not doing so, especially since she presently felt as if he’d reached inside her chest and touched her heart.

He
of course felt no such thing toward
her,
or he would have at least suggested that they marry each other now that he was in the market for a wife. Not that it mattered, of course, since
she
had no intention of acquiring another husband.

Oh bother!

“Have you received any word from the duke regarding last night’s incident?” she asked, both out of concern for Lady Rebecca and because she was desperate to concentrate on something other than Lucien—impossible as that was when he was standing before her looking so rugged.

“Nothing yet, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head. “You mustn’t worry, though. Considering her wound, she ought to be fine as long as she gets proper treatment—I’m sure of it.”

“That is a relief to know.” Silence fell between them. The clock ticked away on the mantelpiece. Katherine’s fingertips toyed with her skirt. “Have you seen many such wounds before? During the war, I mean.”

“I’ve seen my fair share. More than I care to remember, I’ll admit.”

A shadow fell across his brow, and Katherine chided herself for posing the question. In all likelihood, she’d just reminded him of his brother. “I’m sorry,” she said.

Drawing a deep breath, he pushed the air out slowly. “I brought my curricle along. Since you mentioned having a picnic, I thought we could drive over to the lake and go fishing—save the race for another day?”

“Are you trying to postpone losing to me?” Katherine teased, eager for a bit of easy banter and hoping that it would relax her agitated nerves.

“Not in the least. I was merely trying to protect you from the truth—that I have always allowed you to win.” He flashed a cheeky smile.

“First of all, I don’t believe a word of it, and second of all, if you were a true gentleman, you would not be so ready to tell me of your superior riding skills. Instead, you would have allowed me to remain ignorant, providing of course that what you say is true—which it is not.”