To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (14 page)

C
atherine tried very
hard to ignore the giggles that flowed from William’s bedchamber as he and the three other women looked for the clue. They were on the fourth floor of the house far from anyone else, though if she glanced over the balcony, she could see people walking around on the floor below. But the fourth floor was the private quarters. Forbidden. Which made complete sense for her card, yet no sense at all as to how she’d been supposed to figure it out. She’d have never thought to look inside William’s room.

S
he’d almost done
it simply to spite Andrew.

She glanced his way and found him watching her from his side of the door. He’d forbidden her to go inside. How dare he! He was not her father. Her father had been dead for years. And thanks to him, neither was he her fiancé. Andrew didn’t even want her. That truth still hurt to face. But, she’d decided to move on. She’d decided that Catherine Croftman was powerful. Smart. Witty. And more than anything, she now wished to be a full member of the Ladies’ Lounge, which meant marrying well, which meant holding her tongue every now and again. She’d told the women that she could do it. She’d prepared herself that morning for her first event back out in society after Andrew’s embarrassment a week ago. She’d told herself that she would keep her mouth shut in the face of adversity, and yet not even two minutes had passed after her run-in with Andrew and she was ready to throw everything she’d been told ‘not to do’ out the window and arm herself for war. The man was maddening, and more than anything, she felt a solid kick in his shin would do him some good. She smiled at the thought. Kicking Andrew. He deserved it.

“
Y
ou shouldn’t even be
on this floor.” Her enemy spoke, “Women belong nowhere near a man’s bedchamber.”

No one asked you to be here.
“A fine point, my lord.” She turned to look at the painting hanging by William’s door—a painting of a wild, green land with trees and exotic animals. A jungle. Another part of her clue she never would have found because she never would have come up to this floor. What had Lady Cartridge been thinking?

“You should go back downstairs.”

And you should simply go away.
“I will, once I’ve retrieved the clue.”

“Would you have gone into the room if I hadn’t been here?”

Catherine turned to look at him then. He leaned against the wall facing her. Only five feet away, yet a world apart. The hall curtains on the floor were closed, leaving only the lanterns on the wall for light, causing his blonde curls to glow. His green eyes seemed darker, his jaw shut hard with his anger. Her heart ached. She loved him so much. She looked away and let out a breath, “What does it matter?”

H
e was
on her in a flash. She’d barely blinked before he found her locked in his tight grip. His fingers wrapped around her upper arms, his look menacing. “Do you not care what people will think? What they will say?”

Catherine stared up at the man who’d given her first kiss, who’d promised to marry her by her twenty-fifth birthday, who’d flirted and whispered in her ear more sweet words when they came of age. The man who had written to her while he’d been away at Oxford, who’d told her that he loved her… and then told her he didn’t want her. “I’m not even in the room.”

“Still,” he hissed. “You shouldn’t be here. People could assume the worse if you’re caught up here.”

He was right. So very right.

“No.”

“What?”

S
he held his eyes
, her body shaking. He touched her. She was so near his heated scent. Those green eyes she’d dreamt her children inheriting. A life she would no longer have because he refused to see what was in front of him. He refused to forgive her for a sin from the far past. Any touch with those things in mind was torture. Tears swung in the back of her eyes, threatening to undo her. Immediately, the urge to beg for his understanding and forgiveness rose.

On her night at the Ladies’ Lounge, she’d been warned of this moment.

Your love for him will still have its effects
, Lady Cartridge had told her.
Don’t surrender to them, for they will be for not and lead you astray.

She closed her eyes and forced her mind to stay focused. Told herself to stay strong. Instead of asking for forgiveness, she forgave, letting go of her anger, her hurt, finally ready to truly take control of her future. “You remember that day we ate all those berries from your mother’s bushes and got so full we wouldn’t eat the dinner she had planned?”

A
ndrew stared down at her
, his hold loosening, though he did not leave. “Yes,” he whispered. A smile touched his lips. “She was quite upset. Especially when everything I ate decided to come back up in front of the baron.” He chuckled.

Catherine laughed. When was the last time they’d laughed together? “I hope one day we can be friends.”

His dark brows furrowed as confusion lit up his face.

The earl’s door opened with a flood of giggles.

Catherine jumped out of Andrew’s touch, and when he looked as though he’d grab for her again, she backed away, bumping into something solid and warm. She turned around to see William looking down at her—a smile on his face, a card in his lifted hand.

He spoke in a low voice, “There were two other clues in my room. This is the last one.”

Spinning around, Catherine took the card and asked, “Where does it lead?” She was surprised she had been able to follow the conversation as her thoughts still drifted to Andrew. The man she refused to look at.

T
here was
a gleam in William’s dark eyes—something she’d never seen before. He grinned, a dimple appearing in his left cheek. Had he always been so… handsome? “Would you like my help in discovering it?” The words seemed to say more.

A giggling sound faded down the hall, and when Catherine looked behind her, she found that they were alone. Even Andrew was gone. The ache returned.

“Catherine?”

She turned back to him, “Yes?”

“Shall we continue?” his arm extended to her.

With only a moment of hesitation, she took it.

T
he landowners’ meeting
simply had to be at the Croftman townhouse. Andrew had not been prepared to see Catherine again. Not after the party the other evening. But, to miss a meeting about the property he would one day inherit was not an option.

T
he butler opened
the door before he knocked, and Andrew removed his hat , running his fingers through his curls as he walked inside. The men were present, standing around the entryway, talking about issues that would later be discussed at the session. He waded through the throng of people until he saw someone he knew and had been meaning to talk to since arriving in London.

“Levi.”

Levi Smith turned around and gave a nod. A serious fellow, he rarely smiled. His black hair had been slicked back, and he wore a fine black suit. Pale eyes held Andrew’s. “Surprised you’re here.”

Andrew lifted a brow, “Me? What of you? I believe congratulations are in order.”

Levi actually ducked his head when his cheeks turned a red tint. “There’s no need for all of that.” Though, they both knew there was.

A
ndrew laughed
, “You’ve a seat at parliament. It’s reason to celebrate.” Levi had been plucked from the worst part of London, living on the streets before Hensman had hired him as a young lad. He was one of the hardest working people Andrew knew, and the hard work had paid off. Hensman had sent a young Levi, now grown, off to Oxford. It was obvious to everyone that Levi was the son that Hensman never had. Cursed with only a single daughter, the man had practically made Levi his ward. It was simply too bad that Levi could not also inherit Hensman’s title, as he was not blood. Andrew was sure, though, that the family would keep him on long after Hensman died.

Levi’s grin pulled to one side of his handsome face. He gave a nod, “I could use a break from all the… endless debate.”

Andrew chuckled, “Who gave you their chair?”

“The duke.”

“Hensman?”

Levi nodded.

“Whigs?” Libels. The party Andrew was a part of. The voice of those without a voice.

Levi frowned, “Tories.” Conservative. Out for themselves. “It’s still Hensman’s seat, after all.”

“Of course.” Hensman was a Tory, and it was custom for the men of aristocracy in the House of Lords to give their extra seats away to men they trusted, allowing their friends to work in the House of Commons. Now, Levi was one of those men. “Bored already?”

L
evi’s face grew serious
, “How many men can sit through, much less write, a five-hour speech?”

Andrew shook his head, “I believe that is a question everyone lives to have answered.”

They were silent for a moment, and then Levi said, “Did you enjoy the dowager’s party last evening?”

Andrew turned to look at the man who’d been his friend since coming to live with Hensman nearly twenty years ago. Then his eyes roamed over the crowd. “I’ve been to better.”

“I saw Catherine.” He paused, then asked, “Did she seem different to you?”

“Yes.” Without a doubt. There was no ‘seem’ about it. She was definitely a different woman. Still difficult. Still awfully gorgeous. Still driving him mad. But in a new and stressfully different way. “She was different.”

“
I
saw
you left the party early.”

“I did.” He couldn’t stay. Didn’t dare. Catherine’s hope for friendship had almost undone him. Friends? He could barely be around the woman and not drown from the flood of emotions that would come. He could barely be around her and not itch to touch her. Run his hands through her hair. Kiss her. “She wants us to be friends.”

“Oh.” There was much wealth in that syllable.

“What does that mean?”

Levi shook his head, “It’s just… those words.”

“What of it?” Though, he had a feeling he already knew.

“It sounds as though she’s...” Moved on. Didn’t care for him. No longer loved him. Moreover, she was willing to be his friend and allow him the opportunity to share in her happiness from a distance.

He needed time to ponder whether a friendship was possible because, with Catherine, it seemed like an all or nothing situation. Yet, all would never happen, and nothing seemed like a gloomy world. He needed to think. Too bad he was in her home at present. “Have you seen her today?”

L
evi didn’t look away
. “No.”

Andrew frowned, “No?”

“She’s not here.”

“Well, where is she?”

The door opened again, and there was laughter from the front. Her laughter. It mingled with the voices of the boisterous men around, yet Andrew couldn’t mistake the sound for anything but her. He turned to the door and saw her laugh again. The door was closing behind her, yet the sun had pulled in just enough to set her aglow for a moment. He noticed her arm in someone else’s, her fingers wrapped around the black jacket of a gentleman, but the crowd stopped him from connecting the jacket with a face.

H
e found
himself moving in their direction before he knew he was. And then he saw him. “William.” He’d said the name aloud without realizing it.

Both William and Catherine looked at Andrew. It took a moment before either of them smiled.

“Good morning, Lord Clariant.”
Lord Clariant?
Never before had she given him a courtesy so gracious.

“Catherine.”

The surprise at his address shocked her, but she recovered well. Why he’d decided to be so intimate, he didn’t know.

William grinned as though he hadn’t heard the familiarity. Or perhaps, he didn’t care. “Andrew, it’s good to see you. I hope you are well. I heard you left the party early the other evening.”

“Oh, did you?” Catherine asked with concern. Her hand still rested on the other man’s arm, driving him mad. “Were you ill?”

Had she been too busy to notice him leave? “Where’d you just come from?” Once the question was out, there was no taking it back.

“We went for a walk,” William said calmly, lacking any evidence that he was growing irritated, which in turn irritated Andrew.

“Where?” Another question. He couldn’t help himself.

“The park.”

A
part
of Andrew told himself that he was simply trying to protect her. After all, who knew her better than he? He was still a part of Catherine’s life. She’d offered him friendship. He could be a friend. Couldn’t he? He turned to Catherine and found her gazing up at William. They looked horrible together. For one, his hair was much too blonde; well, it was actually a shade near Andrew’s, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that William Lawson was definitely not for Catherine.

Catherine excused herself. “It was good seeing you,” she told Andrew before fluttering away.

Andrew turned to the other man, “Walk with me.” It was not a question.

William nodded his agreement either way.

The two men left the entryway just as a servant began to gesture the crowd in the opposite direction, toward an assembly room down the other hall.

Andrew stopped and asked when they were alone, “What are you doing?”

William didn’t blink. “What do you mean?”

Andrew crossed his arms. “What are your plans with Catherine?”

W
illiam was silent
, and Andrew thought the man wouldn’t answer him, but then he did. “I plan to court her if that’s alright with you.”

It wasn’t. “You’ve never been interested in Catherine before.”

“Not true. She’s simply never been available before.” William grinned, “However, now that she’s on the market, I believe I will not be the only man who tries to woo her hand.”

A
ndrew’s eyes went wide
. Had men been looking at his Catherine while they’d been together? Well, technically she hadn’t been
his Catherine
for some time. Their romance had ended five years ago when she’d been eighteen and he’d been twenty-one, around the same time of his mother’s death. The two most important women in his life—gone. One through sickness and the other through betrayal. “You don’t know her like I do.”

William frowned, “And how well do you
know
her?”

And with one word, Andrew saw that he could ruin Catherine’s reputation. If she’d been his in an intimate way, no man would have her. The temptation to do so was there. The power rested in his hands.

But whatever he and Catherine had shared would remain between them and no one else. Instead, he went with invasion. “How well can you know anyone?”

William narrowed his eyes and nodded. He began to fix his dark coat when he said, “Then perhaps, you do not know her at all.”

What did that mean? “How so?”

“Well,” he began, bringing his dark blue eyes back to Andrew’s, “ever since your announcement that you were not going to marry Catherine, many have noticed a… difference in her. She’s much less confrontational. Indeed, I practically have to pry words from her lips.”

P
ry words
? That was not Catherine at all. Catherine loved debate. She loved to let others know her opinion on anything and everything, and Andrew loved to hear it. She was witty and intelligent. “That does not sound like Catherine.”

“Then perhaps, it was always you who brought the worst out in Catherine.”

“The worst?” Andrew closed his fist in an effort not to wrap his fingers around William’s throat. “Catherine’s ability to express herself… her way with words…. It’s one of her best features.”

William shrugged, “Well, I, for one, enjoy quiet women—much like this new Catherine who knows her place.”

“Her place?”

“And speaking of places,” William pointed toward the hall, “We should really get to the meeting. I wouldn’t put it past Hensman to fine us for the lapse, as though we were truly in session.” Then he grinned and walked away. “Are you coming?”

“In a moment.” First, he would see Catherine. He was her friend after all. It was his duty to see that she was happy. Even if that happiness didn’t come from him.