To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (15 page)

“
T
hat gown is beautiful
,” Jane whispered as she stared at her sister in the mirror, tears in her eyes.

C
atherine ran
her hand down the silk material. Red. It was so vivid. And the cut of it a little lower than she’d have liked it to be. “I can’t wear this. What would people say?”

“They’d all envy you, but most importantly, you’ll catch Andrew’s eye. Isn’t that why you’ve been doing all this anyway?”

She thought about her answer and went with honesty. “Yes and no. I do want him to see me, but more importantly… I just wanted… to see what I could become. I need to start thinking of my own future.”

Jane smiled as she lounged in the settee. “Well, I must say that your future is looking quite bright.” Then she popped up out of the chair. “I’m going to go get the maid so she can help you out of the dress.” Then she was gone.

Catherine moved closer to the mirror, examining her skin, her eyes, her lips. She would be turning twenty-five on the night of the ball. And while most unmarried women would have thought the announcement her doom, Catherine was not one who feared spinsterhood.

F
or the last five years
, Catherine had actually been approached by a few men, looking for a wife, but she’d held on to her belief that Andrew would come around, that one day, he would forgive her childhood mistake. A shared kiss with another man.

The sound of the door opening and closing caught her attention, but assuming it to be the maid, she didn’t turn around. “I’m ready to get out of this dress.”

“I’d be more than happy to assist,” came the dark reply.

Catherine almost twisted her ankle when she spun around to look at the man standing in her room. Andrew. His deep voice and the promise in his eyes made her heart leap. She placed her hand on her chest. “What are you doing in here?” Then she gasped, “You’re in my room. You must leave.”

A
ndrew’s
dark green eyes roamed over her dress. His gaze, seeming to touch her where it went, gave Catherine the urge to fidget. Yet, instead, she held herself still.

When he didn’t reply, she spoke again, “You can’t be here. What if you’re caught?”

His eyes met hers. “With a quarter of the power of London downstairs? We’d be forced to marry. Isn’t that what you want anyway?”

Catherine looked away, but wasn’t it what she wanted? Wasn’t marriage to her childhood friend her dream? “No.” Not like this.

He frowned, a brooding look she’d come to love. “Oh, that’s right. You’ve already moved on.”

I had little choice
. It was what she would have said. It was the kind of reply that Andrew would be looking for. But, instead, Catherine would not give him the debate he wanted. She was through fighting with him. The little tit for tat had become some sort of love language for the couple, but they were not a couple anymore. “Like my dress?” Holding up her hands, she gave him a spin and watched his eyes as he took in the ball gown.

“
W
here are
you planning to wear it?”

“Your sister-in-law’s ball.” It would be the first one hosted by the Dawnton family in years. After the death of their mother, it was as though a darkness had fallen over the family, but since Nathaniel’s marriage to Lady Amy, the sun had returned… at least, for some of the members of the household. Andrew was still… Andrew.

He lifted a brow and then looked at her, “You can’t wear that dress.” Bully. He was still looking for a fight, Catherine knew.

“You never said if you liked it.”

Andrew crossed his arms and leaned against the closed door. His gaze fixed with hers. “I like it,” he said in a heavy whisper.

Catherine swallowed and turned away, hating the power he still had over her.

And then he was there. His hands hovering over her shoulders, barely touching her. Yet, she could still feel them. She closed her eyes as his fingers made contact.

His head came near hers as he whispered in her ear, “What are you doing, Cat?”

“What do you mean?”

“With William. What are you doing?”

She sighed, “He wishes to court me.”

“No.” Andrew turned her around, forcing her eyes to meet his. “He doesn’t plan to court you. Not the real you.”

She had to ask, “The real me?”

H
is fingers trailed
up her neck, stopping on the edge of her hair. “How long do you think you can keep this up? Your little meek and mild charade. This isn’t you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me.” Then her eyes went wide. The retort had come so quickly.

Andrew grinned, “I think I know you better than anyone else.” He leaned forward, as though planning to kiss her.

And Catherine wanted the kiss. Her very being whispered throughout her every limb that she needed this kiss. But, right before his lips touched hers, she ducked away and moved to the other side of the room.

He shall take no more liberties
, the dowager had told her.
Every liberty only gives him strength and you weakness.

“
W
hy are you here
?” she finally asked.

His eyes moved from her to her room, taking it all in for the first time, while at the same time walking in her direction. Then, when he was finally in front of her again, he stopped and looked down at her, “To understand what game you’re playing.”

Catherine felt a tightness in her stomach that had nothing to do with her corset. “Game, my lord?”

He nodded and began to stare at the dress she wore. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

Like she didn’t know. As though it didn’t pain her to hold her tongue at every turn. As though she didn’t know that the men who now sought her hand didn’t bask in the thought of marrying the tame Catherine. The more lady-like Catherine. The woman her mother had begged her to be seasons ago. The sort of lady her older brother would try to make her friends with. A quiet girl who looked for a man’s aid in all things, including thought.

It wasn’t that Catherine hadn’t known how to act to attract a suitor. She had. She always had. She’d always known that a tight lip, along with her handsome dowry and a pretty face, would catch her the peer of her mother’s dreams. It had never mattered to Catherine, though. Only Andrew had mattered. And Andrew had loved her just the way she was… or so she’d thought.

“
C
atherine
.”

Her thoughts returned to him. This moment. In her room. “Yes?”

His fingers caught hold of a curl that hung by her ear. He grazed her cheek, either by accident or on purpose, she wasn’t sure, yet her heart still sped. “You offered me friendship a few days ago. I’d like that.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

Protect me? “From?”

His dark gaze didn’t waver, “Poor suitors.”

She tilted her head, “What?”

He sighed and stepped away from her and across the room to look out the window. “If your brother is not willing to make sure you’ve only the best of men, then it is up to me. After all, who knows you better?”

T
he audacity
. Catherine placed her hands on her hips as she tried to think of the best way to maneuver around this conversation without it turning into an argument. “And you find issue with the men who have paid call to me thus far?”

He nodded, “I do.”

“Including the earl?”

“Especially the earl.”

“And what is wrong with the Earl of Cartridge?”

He took a seat on the window bench and stared at her. “He won’t make you happy.”

And just like that, Catherine was undone. “Since when does my happiness matter to you?” she whispered.

He stilled, “It has always mattered to me—”

“Liar.”

“Catherine—”

“It was one kiss.”

He shot from the chair. “It more than that and you know it. The man was in love with you. He told me himself.”

Catherine’s arms came up. “I was sixteen. It was nine years ago. Let it go.”

His eyes were hard. “You don’t think I’ve tried?”

H
er eyes went wide
. He’d never said this before. An argument that had been playing on for almost a decade, and this was the first time Andrew had said anything like this. “Well, what stops you from forgiving me? Pride?”

“No.”

“What then?”

“Because I can’t kill a man who’s already dead.”

Catherine’s heart ached, but she didn’t speak.

Andrew continued, walking toward her. “Had he come back from the war, I would have killed him. I would have punched him in the face for stealing that kiss from you. I would have beat him half to death and gotten this anger out of me, which has held its grasp on my heart ever since. But I can’t, Catherine, because he never returned. He’s dead. He stole that kiss from you, and now he’s dead.” He came to a stop a foot away from her and said, “And because I can’t confront him, I will always wonder if you loved him more than me. Or if what we had was a lie, built on a promise I made to you as a child. A one sided-love affair.”

C
atherine gasped
, water in her eyes as she finally understood him. All these years, she’d never known he’d thought any of this. She’d never known that Andrew thought himself to be second place. “No, Andrew. I’ve only ever loved you. The kiss I gave him was simply to send him off to war.”

He closed his eyes and took a breath. But when they opened, all emotion was gone. “Maybe you’re telling me the truth. I don’t know that for sure, and since he is no longer around to challenge me, we’ll never know who you really would have chosen.”

“Andrew—”

“Friendship is all I can offer you, Catherine.”

And as she looked into his eyes, she saw the truth. He was scared. For years, she’d believed it the simple pride of the Marquess of Clariant, future Duke of Wardington. But now, she understood his pain and felt it seal around her heart. She would always love him, but they would never be all she wished for them to be. “Friendship it is, then.”

“
W
ait
, wait, wait.” Andrew held up his hands. “Start again.”

M
ark smiled
, “Certainly. Reversible isothermal compression of the gas—”

“Stop.” Andrew closed his eyes and began to wipe the weariness away. “Can’t you just give me the elementary version of this lesson?” He opened his eyes to find Mark staring at him with a grin on his face.

“Heat can create cold.”

“Impossible.”

Mark’s grin widened, and Andrew was glad to see it. His brother’s mind ran circles around most of London. “Not so. By putting heat to work, you’d be surprised what can be done.”

“Amazing.”

Mark nodded.

Nathaniel, who’d been practically snoozing in the chair next to Mark, with a blanket wrapped around him, popped an eye open. “Is the science lesson done?”

Mark nodded, “It is.”

“Good!” Throwing the blanket off himself, he sat up straight.

A
ndrew shook his head
. Nathaniel had never been interested in anything other than forms of art and women. “Glad to see you could finally join us.”

Nathaniel winked a glittering green. “Now, we can move on to more important topics.”

“Such as?”

“Catherine’s birthday is the night of the ball.”

Andrew should have known better than to meet up with this brothers, but Nathaniel had begged to get away from the Wardington townhouse while his wife planned the ball of the century, and Andrew had promised to hear Mark’s latest update in the science and mathematics world. And yet, he’d thought the day would turn out to be a peaceful afternoon in the study of his townhouse. He’d been wrong.

N
athaniel continued
, “When you propose, it should be on the grand staircase. Everyone could be standing around.” He began to talk with his hands then, becoming animated. He lived for the theatre. “Amy will give the signal for when you will—”

“You’ve dragged your wife into this?” Andrew asked.

Nathaniel frowned, “Of course, I have. After all, it’s her party. Her
first
party. We can’t have her fail, can we? Everything must be timed appropriately. We—”

Mark cut in, “Andrew isn’t going to propose to Catherine.” At least one brother had been paying attention to his life.

Nathaniel turned to Mark, “Well, of course he is. He’s a Marquess. He has to keep his word.”

“He doesn’t if someone else proposes to her first, and from what I’ve been hearing during the last few parties, William is about ready to approach her brother.”

That was news to Andrew. Since Cartridge’s scavenger hunt, Andrew had been avoiding all social events. He’d been avoiding Catherine, with her bright brown eyes and rustic hair. Instead, he’d focused on the government and his efforts there, spending much time in this very cafe, debating those who happened to also detest balls and parties.

“
W
here did you hear this
?” Andrew asked.

“Everyone is talking about it.”

Andrew frowned, “I’ve never known you to be one for gossip, Mark.”

Mark shrugged, “Well, I observed them at the Hensman party. They danced the waltz twice in a row.”

Scandalous. Andrew’s eyes went wide.

Nathaniel chuckled, “You know, with one word, this self-torture you deem necessary for yourself can end.”

“It’s not self-torture.” Lie. That was exactly what it felt like without Catherine. No one had been closer. She was like a limb, and that limb was now gone. No. It had been severed from his body, from his very soul the moment he’d witnessed her lips on another. He hated her for that moment. The image burned in his mind, repeating over and over again.

H
e’d returned early
from Oxford once he’d gotten word that his mother had fallen ill. At first, no one had believed his mother’s life in the balance, but Andrew had needed the break from his courses. And not only that, he’d wanted to see Catherine. They’d shared letters while he’d been away, but he’d admitted that for the last few months before his return home, he’d stopped writing her. He’d grown too busy, but that hadn’t stopped him from enjoying the letters she’d sent to him. He’d loved her. He’d planned on marrying her. She was everything to him.

Then she’d betrayed him. He’d found her the day of his return. After visiting his mother, he’d headed across the meadow, through the forest, and onto her family’s property, Anglebrook. He’d even passed the lantern, just to see if it still hung in the trees—their signal to meet in their most desperate of times to see one another. He’d been overjoyed at the prospect of holding her in his arms. Kissing her. Only, when he got there, he’d been too late. Someone else was already doing that very thing.

She’d called it a kiss of friendship, a sendoff for the war against Napoleon. Andrew had not seen it as such and had vowed to seek his revenge upon the man once he returned. Only he hadn’t returned, and Andrew had been left stuck with his anger and pain.

O
n the same
night he’d found out the truth about Catherine, his mother had died. Slipped from his world. Without pain and without warning. No one had been prepared. It had only been a cough. She’d seemed fine. Alive. Bright. Much like his love for Catherine. His mother’s death was like a signal of sorts—everything Andrew loved, everything he’d ever wanted, was dead.

He’d spent years after the catastrophic event plunging himself into all manner of vices, waking up and falling back asleep in a place no better than the underworld. Nathaniel had helped as only Nathaniel could. He’d taken him into that place, the part of London that was full of thieves and danger. The East End.

Mark had been too young to come along at first, but as the years passed, he, too, had taken part in the filth. It was around that time that the boys had begun to hear rumors of their own father’s role in the dark activities, though he’d never done such things in the company of his sons. Still, they’d all mourned the loss of their mother, but Andrew mourned the loss of his future. Everything seemed bleak. Love—he cursed it. It had never brought them any good.

Except for Nathaniel, who’d found love less than a year ago and was better off for it. Nathaniel, the part playful, part wicked brother was now reformed and was now looking at Andrew with concern. “Don’t go there,” he whispered.

A
ndrew turned away
, not understanding how Nathaniel had known where his mind had gone. Back to that dark place. Back to that time when Andrew had almost wished never to see tomorrow. The time when he’d wondered about the purpose of life.

Nathaniel spoke again but didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, “I never should have taken you two there.”

Andrew shook his head, “It wasn’t your fault.”

Nathaniel stood and moved over to the window. It was raining outside, matching all their moods. “It was my fault. That part of my past… I regret it. It makes me feel unworthy of Amy’s love every time she looks at me as though I’m some sort of hero.”

M
ark spoke
, “But you are. To her, at least.”

Nathaniel smiled.

Mark grinned, “And to me. Those years earned my reputation.”

They all laughed lightly.

Andrew spoke, “The point still remains. We all wanted to go there.”

The brothers stood silent for a moment, all in their own thoughts.

Mark said, “I think you should marry Catherine.” The comment was unexpected.

Andrew asked, “Why?”

“Because… do you wish to go back there again?”

Their father had warned Andrew of this, that Mark would see things much simpler than he. Mark lived in a reality with very little gray.

“What if it happens again?”

“Always a possibility, but the probability of it is slim. Though, I’ve always believed you escalated the issue by compounding it with our mother’s death.”

Too simple. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Mark began, “your mind may be playing the memory incorrectly, an effect caused by the loss of mother.”

“
I
mpossible
.” Was it possible?

“The mind is funny that way. The memory even more so. Catherine says it was only a kiss. Perhaps… it was only a kiss?”

Andrew went back to the moment in his mind. Catherine in the other man’s arms. Was his brother right? “It was so long ago; I can hardly remember it.”

“Much was happening when the event took place. The death of our mother, her funeral.”

“Your pride,” Nathaniel cut in.

Andrew cut him a look. “Pride has nothing to do with this.”

Nathaniel scoffed, “Oh, so it doesn’t irritate you to see her on William’s arm? Of all the men in London, it’s William that catches her eye?”

A
ndrew stared at him
, a warning in his green eyes. “Don’t. You. Dare—”

“She kisses one man and ends up with another. The first Earl of Cartridge dies in war only for his young brother, the new Earl of Cartridge, to take his brother’s place and his brother’s woman right along with it—” Nathaniel’s words were cut off when his head made contact with the glass.

Andrew held him, high off the ground, his hands wrapped around the other man’s lapel, forcing him to go up against the glass. Picking him up, his anger fueling him, Andrew dragged Nathaniel to a wall, forcing the men to meet eyes. “You shut your mouth.”

Nathaniel’s look was very serious. “Maybe this was destiny.”

“No.”

“Maybe Catherine was always meant to be the Lady of Cartridge Abby.”

Andrew lifted his fist.

“Hit me.”

He paused, “What?”

N
athaniel stared
at him as if seeing his very being. “You’re angry, Andrew. You never got to hit Charles Lawson, your friend, the man who stole a kiss from the woman you loved right before he had to go off and die for our country. And now, his younger brother, William, has a shot at making her happy. A shot to give her the happiness you refuse her. And have no doubt that William will make her happy. Look at his mother. Since his brother’s death, he’s done everything he can possibly do to make the dowager the most envious of mothers, allowing her to have extravagant balls and parties. Anything she wants, she gets, all because she lost a son. A son you hate. You never got your revenge on the earl, so take it now and let it be. Take your revenge and let it rest, but don’t lose Catherine while she’s still yours.”

Andrew stood there, holding his brother’s lapel, allowing the reality of the words to slip in. “You’re right.”

Nathaniel lifted a brow, “I am.”

Andrew nodded, “William will make her happy.”

Nathaniel frowned, “Andrew, don’t—”

But it was too late. Andrew dropped his brother and left the room running, trying to escape the life and world he no longer wished to be in. He couldn’t make her happy—not with the level of anger and fear that clung to him. So, he’d run. But he could never truly run. Andrew had responsibilities. He’d have to go to the Dawnton ball. He’d have to see Catherine.

And he’d have to let her go.