Part 11 (1/2)
Yes, she was in very great danger. Very great danger, indeed.
Late the next morning, Lord Bainbridge reined his gray gelding, Achilles, to a halt a short distance behind the Temple of Virtues. His lips quirked. To think that he had asked Kit to meet him here, of all places, when virtue was the farthest thing from his mind. But the house had too many curious ears, the largest of which belonged to Lady Elizabeth.
Not that he had anything against the d.u.c.h.ess's sister, mind you. She was quite appealing-if one happened to like clinging vines. Lud, the little vixen had all but thrown herself at him and professed her undying love when he had emerged from the duke's study this morning. He had eventually pried himself away from her, but Tolliver, his valet, had been most distressed by the sad creasing the young lady had given his lapels. Surely his light flirtations over the years had not given her any ideas; at twenty-two, Lady Elizabeth should know better. She'd had four Seasons, and turned down offers from any number of bucks more handsome and well heeled than he. He shrugged. Yes, he would have to marry eventually, but when he did he would not choose a woman who would choke the life out of him with her constant need for attention. He wanted someone who would not see him as merely a t.i.tle, a yearly income, or a trophy. Someone who could see beyond his reputation to who he really was. Someone like Kit.
He blinked. Good G.o.d, where had that come from?
He slid from the saddle with unusual awkwardness and landed with a thump on the springy turf. Achilles turned his great head and whickered. The marquess gave the gray's neck an absent pat. ”I'm all right, old fellow. I just find myself easily distracted these days.”
He let the reins dangle, and Achilles immediately put his head down to graze. Bainbridge rubbed the back of his neck, perplexed by this strange notion. Marriage? To Kit? What had put that into his head? He did not have time for such flights of fancy; he had business to attend to.
He found Kit pacing inside the folly's domed rotunda, her hands clasped behind her back, staring fixedly at the inlaid patterns in the marble floor. Sunlight filtered through the stained-gla.s.s panels in the arched ceiling, creating a halo over her gold-crowned head. She had done her hair up again today, and he found his gaze drawn to the soft, diminutive curls at the nape of her neck. For a moment, a brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to run his lips over those downy swirls and feel her s.h.i.+ver with pleasure. Then he shook himself. d.a.m.n it, he promised himself that he would be more guarded, and these indulgent fantasies were anything but.
Fortunately, she had not heard him approach, and so did not notice him staring. He sent silent thanks heavenward, then leaned against one of the stone urns inside the entrance to the folly and forcefully cleared his throat.
Kit jumped. ”Nicholas! You startled me.”
G.o.d, how he liked the sound of his name on her lips. Those lush lips that all but begged to be kissed . . . Ah, no more of that, if he valued his sanity.
”Forgive me for interrupting you,” he managed to say. ”If you prefer, I can come back another time. . . .”
”Stop teasing.” Her face seemed to glow with antic.i.p.ation as she hurried toward him. ”What did the duke have to say?”
”What, not so much as a 'good afternoon'?” He grinned at her. ”You wound me, madam.”
She scowled back at him. ”You are a wretch, my lord, and you delight in tormenting me.”
”Only because I love to watch your eyes shoot those delightful green sparks.”
”What nonsense,” she bl.u.s.tered, but he could see a rosy pink flush steal across the high-arched planes of her cheekbones. She retreated a pace. ”Please tell me what happened. Did you meet with the duke?”
Bainbridge held up his hands and relented. ”All right-I shan't tease you any longer. Yes, I met with His Grace about an hour ago. Wexcombe was not exactly overjoyed at the idea of a compromise, but I think I managed to make him see the wisdom of it.”
”And how did you do that?” she asked, skeptical.
”At first I pointed out that this arrangement would keep both of them content, but he was still determined to have his own way. Then I simply stated that I did not agree with his a.s.sessment of the dowager's limitations, that I did not appreciate his high-handed manner in dealing with her, and neither would the ton once I let slip what he had done to his own grandmother.”
”Never say you resorted to such underhanded methods.” The hint of a smile hovered at the corners of her mouth.
He shrugged. ”I did. Wexcombe does not care a fig for what Society thinks of him-he is a duke, after all-but he will go to great lengths to avoid any hint of scandal. He is rather proud.”
”So I had noticed,” she replied with a trace of annoyance. ”How should we proceed from here?”
”Wexcombe has planned a meeting with his bailiff this afternoon, and with the ball at Shering Park this evening, perhaps we had best wait until tomorrow morning. Everyone should be in an amiable mood, and we can settle this issue once and for all. And then . . .”
”And then-what?” Her gaze slid away from his face. The tip of her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
Bainbridge's mouth went dry.
Tell her the truth, you great oaf. Tell her and regain your sanity!
”Do not tell me, Kit, that you still cringe at the thought of being my mistress,” he heard himself say. ”Is the prospect so unpleasant?” So much for honesty.
Her incredible jade eyes widened. ”N-no,” she stammered. ”Not unpleasant. Merely . . . unnerving.”
”How so?”
”As I told you yesterday, my lord, I hardly know you.”
”Oh, please, my dear Kit, not another of your virginal protests,” drawled the marquess. ”I thought we were past those.”
”Hardly, sir,” she reproached him. ”I told you I have every intention of fulfilling my portion of our bargain. Indeed, I am resigned to it.”
”Resigned?” He raised an eyebrow. ”How lowering. You do my reputation as a rake no credit, sweet Katherine.”
”I should hope not, my lord. But I am curious. . . . Any number of London beauties must be eager for your company. Is that not so?”
”True,” he admitted. His brow inched upward another notch. What was she getting at?
”Then why me?”
”I beg your pardon?”
”I am no Toast, sir, nor a diamond of the first water. My looks are too . . . unusual to conform to the standard of English beauty celebrated by society. So what is it about me that prompted you to propose this arrangement, rather than simply agreeing to a.s.sist me?”
Tell her.
What could he tell her? My deepest apologies, Mrs. Mallory, but I only pretended to seduce you in order to discover the true nature of your character? G.o.d, that disgusted even him, the rake who had never claimed to possess an ounce of principle when it came to the fairer s.e.x. Until now. But he had not pretended his attraction to her, which even now was enough to drive him mad.
Kit waited, gazing at him expectantly.
”You seem to labor under the misconception that you are undesirable,” he replied, choosing his words with care. ”But I fail to see why.”
Her gaze did not waver. ”That does not answer my question, my lord. Is it simply because I am a widow, and therefore fair game?”
”No, although it does add spice to the equation.”
”Ah.” Disappointment clouded her eyes.
”And as for your perceived lack of beauty, Kit, I disagree with you. True, you will never be an English rose, but I think of you more like some exotic flower transplanted from a faraway garden.”
She started. ”I was not fis.h.i.+ng for compliments, my lord, I a.s.sure you,” she said with an embarra.s.sed laugh.
Bainbridge grinned. ”I am not offering you Spanish coin, Kit. I happen to find the combination of beauty and a strong will infinitely appealing.”
Her laughter faded. ”You do?”