Part 17 (1/2)

Her curiosity piqued, she padded in bare feet across the room to her secretary where she spied the oblong package. She unwrapped it to reveal a gorgeous hand-painted floral glove box. Inside, lying on the puffed satin, was an exquisite pair of cream colored kidskin gloves.

”Is something amiss, my lady?”

Only then did Catherine realize that tears dampened her eyes. How silly. She never wept.

”Was there no note?” she asked.

”No, my lady. The gent who delivered it said simply that the package was for Lady Catherine Mabry.”

Of course, there'd be no note, because if there was, she'd have to burn it. The gloves were from Claybourne. Her injured hand was too sore, but she couldn't resist having Jenny help her tug the glove onto her uninjured one. It was a perfect fit.

Oh, dear Lord, she wished he hadn't done this. It was so much easier to deal with him when she believed he was the devil, so much harder when she realized he was a man who could easily win her heart.

”You've lost your knack. She spied you following her around.”

Luke had decided that he needed a word with Jim, before he picked Catherine up for their nightly ritual. Now he was pacing in Jim's lodging. When had it grown so small? He barely had the room to stretch his legs. Ever since Catherine had left his bed that morning, he'd felt like a ravenous beast on the prowl-with no clear understanding of what it was he was seeking.

Whatever had possessed him to ask if she wanted a kiss? For more than a year, he'd been fiercely loyal to Frannie, not taken the least bit of interest in another woman. Whatever madness had claimed him? What was he thinking to tempt himself and Catherine with the promise of a kiss? He'd been disappointed. Well, and truly, disappointed when she'd shaken her head. Then he'd gone to Lord's and purchased her new gloves like some besotted fool.

No, he chastised himself. He was simply replacing the pair that had been destroyed when they'd been attacked, replaced the one that now rested in a drawer in the bureau in his bedchamber. The one that he'd held and studied that morning after returning to his residence, thinking about how close she'd come to having her life ended with the slash of a blade.

Pain shot through his head. He had to stop thinking about that encounter in the alley. Why was it that it troubled him so? She was nothing to him except a means to an end.

”She didn't see me,” Jim insisted, lounging in his chair by the fire as though nothing were amiss.

”All the running around she did earlier in the week? She did it to befuddle you, to make certain you were following her.”

”If she spied someone following her, it was not me. She saw someone else.”

Jim sounded so certain of himself. Not that Luke could blame him. He'd always been the best, the very best. So good in fact, that he'd managed to carry out his duties at Scotland Yard during the evening while pursuing Catherine during the day. He'd merely claimed to be following up with some witnesses to a burglary.

”Why would someone be following her?” Luke asked.

”Maybe it's the bloke she wants killed.”

The thought of her being in danger caused Luke to break out in a sweat. ”Did you see someone following her?”

”I wasn't looking for anyone else. I was concentrating on her and making certain she didn't spy me.”

”We need to determine if it was you she saw.”

”Now, that's a jolly good idea. Let's ask her shall we? And then she'll know you're having her followed. Do you think she's going to take kindly to that news?”

”I'm not as daft as all that. We need to come up with an innocent opportunity for your path to cross with hers.” He walked over to the window, moved the drapery aside slightly, and peered out.

”Once she's seen me, she's more likely to notice me and become suspicious.”

”If she does, we'll simply say I was worried about her safety, that you're following her is a new development.”

”So how do you propose we innocently cross paths?”

How indeed without arousing suspicions?

”We just need a small ruse,” Luke said quietly. ”Something simple, easy to bring about.” He considered his options, the players at his disposal. Finally he faced Jim. ”Get word to Bill. We're going to play some cards tonight in Dodger's back room.”

”I'm all for a bit of gaming, but how does that achieve your end?”

”We'll have Frannie bring Catherine into the room-quite innocently. Catherine's reaction to seeing you should tell us everything.”

”What excuse will Frannie use to bring her into a room where gents are playing cards? It will be apparent that it's staged.”

Luke waved off his concerns. ”Perhaps Frannie will want to show me something that she's learned. We'll leave the reason to her. I have no doubt she can lure Catherine into the room without raising suspicions.”

Feagan's children were all skilled at delivering lies so easily that they resembled truths. That talent had allowed him to convince the old gent that Luke was his grandson. What he required of Frannie tonight wasn't nearly as complicated, but in some ways, Luke feared more was to be gained or lost.

”Do you know that Luke has never kissed me?”

Catherine looked up from her feeble attempt to write. While Frannie was writing out a menu that Claybourne could deliver to his cook for the dinner party that the three of them would have at his residence tomorrow night, Catherine was using her time to test her ability to write, scribbling nothing of importance. With her wounded hand, she was having difficult properly holding a writing instrument. How was she going to help Winnie address the invitations to their ball? Although that concern slipped to the back of her mind with Frannie's announcement.

She felt her cheeks warm and wondered if Frannie had some sort of inkling that Claybourne had kissed her. Did her lips now carry a brand as visible as that upon his thumb?

Catherine swallowed. ”Because he respects you.”

”I suppose. It has just always seemed to me that if a man is attracted to you that he shouldn't be able to resist, that you should have to scold him and make him behave.”

”But a gentleman doesn't kiss a lady until they're betrothed, so perhaps since you haven't accepted his offer of marriage-you haven't, have you?”

”No. He hasn't asked again, thank goodness. I'm not ready to say yes.” She set her elbow on the desk, her chin in her hand. ”I felt so badly that night. He'd taken me out in his coach. It was filled with flowers. Terribly romantic.”

”Indeed.” Something else about Claybourne that she'd never expected. ”How fortunate you are to hold his affections.”

”Fortunate?” Frannie straightened. ”I work all evening and then I have to take lessons, while Luke is off playing. His affections have added to my burdens.”

Her att.i.tude surprised Catherine. She'd never consider Claybourne's affections as a burden. For an unkind moment she wasn't certain Frannie deserved him. But it was not her place to judge, to decide whom he should love and who should love him.

”I thought he was here,” Catherine said. She'd never questioned what he was doing while she was showing Frannie various things.

”He is, but he's in a room farther in the back, playing cards with Jack and the others.”

”The others?”

”Friends. Old acquaintances. Lads we grew up with. If I didn't have to take my lessons, then I could play with them. I'd much rather be playing than taking lessons.”

”Is it so difficult to design a menu?”

”So many different dishes need to be served. How can one person eat them all?”

”They're very small portions. I know you're nervous, but it's really not as bad as all that.”

”Still, it doesn't seem fair that we have to work while they play. And it's also not fair that you have to teach me etiquette, while I'm teaching you nothing.”