Unmasking the Duke, page 14
His vague plan was to reach the horses and force the driver to stop, but as he pounded along beside the carriage, he glanced in the window and saw the small, solitary figure of Kitty gazing straight ahead, quite unaware of him. He would have laughed, except he needed his breath for running, and, besides, her unguarded expression was so bereft he could not bear it. He lunged at the carriage door and wrenched it open.
Her head jerked around in pure shock. And just as he leapt for the carriage, it began to swerve around the corner into Brook Street. For a moment, he seemed to swing in the breeze, anchored to nothing except the door handle. He really was about to make a mess of the cobbles. And that was before Kitty hurled herself at him, her eyes wild as though she would push him out.
But she grasped the fabric of his coat in both hands and hauled, just as the carriage straightened, and he catapulted inside, releasing the handle just in the nick of time.
He bounced off the seat and somehow retained enough sense to reach back and pull the door closed. Then he sat back on the bench, panting, and gazed at Kitty.
Her eyes wide, her breast heaving, she stared at him from the floor of the carriage. Wordlessly, he stretched down his hand. She blinked at it, then grasped it and allowed herself to be helped onto the seat beside him.
“You are insane,” she uttered.
And abruptly, he laughed with sheer elation. “It has been a long time,” he gasped.
She looked at once wary and fascinated, and he sobered enough to say lightly. “In any case, you can talk, suborning my staff and fleeing from my house.”
“I took only two shillings from the purse,” she said defensively. “And I packed only my own things.”
The last of his smile died on his lips. “I know that. But why did you go? And so secretively?”
She shrugged. “Because it was the only way I could. I explained it all in the letter I left with Aidan.”
“I know. He tried to give it to me as I bore down upon him, probably to stave off the thrashing he could see coming his way.”
Her eyes widened again like saucers. “You thrash your servants?”
“Not yet,” he said grimly.
Relief flooded her gaze before she dropped it to her hands, and a pang pierced him that she still knew him so little that she could imagine he beat his dependents. No wonder she ran away.
“I thought you were comfortable with us, Cousin Kitty.”
Her gaze came back to his. She swallowed. “I’m not your cousin, sir, not in any way that matters.”
“Is that what Toby Harris told you last night?”
She didn’t even flinch. She shook her head. “Toby looks on life as one big flim-flam. I suppose the princess told you.”
“You do know that running away merely confirms her suspicions?”
“I am not running away,” she said with dignity. “I am going home.”
“I wish you would change your mind.”
Color stained her cheeks, though she asked bluntly, “Why?”
“I would miss you,” he said honestly.
She only smiled with blatant disbelief.
“Nothing has changed,” he said, frowning. “There is no need to break our agreement.”
“I think there is. I would rather go home.”
“Because of Aline?” he asked bluntly.
She was silent for a long moment, twisting the fabric of her gown between her fingers. “The princess is only looking out for you.”
He stared at her. “You are generous. What makes you think so?”
“Because of something she said when she spoke to me last night. She did not say she wouldn’t allow me to fleece you. She said she wouldn’t allow me to let you down. I know she cares for you.”
“So you let her warn you off? I thought you had more spirit.”
She cast him an indignant glance but said nothing.
“You think I care for Aline and trifle with you?” he asked ruefully. “Or that I trifle with both of you?”
“The ways of the aristocracy are beyond me,” she muttered. “And so, I’m going home to my own people.”
He found he was drumming his fingers on his knee and forced them to be still. He worried for her safety, for her hurts, both emotional and physical. But more than that, he didn’t want her to go.
“Then,” he suggested at last, “allow me to come with you, since I appear to be half-way there already. We can spend the day at Maida, and then you can decide whether to return to town with me or stay with your uncle. Who, I’m sure, will have his own opinion.”
She gave an unhappy smile at that, and he took her hand. It jumped in his and then was still.
She took a deep breath. “The princess will not like that.”
“The princess,” he said steadily, “is a good friend. But she is not my keeper. Nor yours.”
Her thick, long eyelashes lifted, revealing a glimpse of intense emotion he couldn’t read, and in any case, it was gone in an instant. But it was enough to thrill, to give him hope, though of what, he wasn’t quite sure. His life seemed to be growing complicated in bizarre but undeniably fascinating ways, and he could only welcome it.
Chapter Fifteen
For Kitty, the odd discussion in the carriage en route to Maida was conducted against the constant memory of him leaping into the moving carriage and swinging around the corner in midair. Such a foolish, reckless, and yet supremely casual act. And it thrilled her far beyond what it should, simply because it gave her a glimpse of the wild, fearless boy he must have been and what it cost the man to be the duke.
And then, of course, there was the fact he had done it in pursuit of her. She wasn’t quite sure why, and part of her was appalled. But only part. Most of her was ecstatic at the prospect of spending several hours with him at Maida or anywhere else.
Even here, he handed her out of the carriage as though she were a lady. And the only witness, Susie at the ticket kiosk, gawped appreciatively, then greeted her with surprised pleasure.
“Lawks, Kitty, it’s you!”
“It is,” Kitty agreed. “How are you and the Gardens?”
“My mum’s got a cold, and the Gardens are quiet.” She was wrapped up in layers and wearing warm, woolen gloves with the tips of the fingers cut off. “Glad of the winter hours!”
“My best to your mother. Is my uncle around today?”
“I ain’t seen him leave.” Susie blushed and fluttered her eyelashes as the duke raised his hat to her.
It seemed very strange to be walking up the familiar path, on the arm of the Duke of Dearham, odder still when Dan caught sight of her and dropped the spade and bucket he was carrying to rush over and hug her, whirling her right off her feet.
“Goodness,” she laughed. “Have you missed me?”
Dan grinned and released her. “No one else has your way with pastry. Or scrambled eggs. Or tea, come to that.” He nodded warily at the duke, as though he knew perfectly well who it was he had ordered tied up during the smuggled delivery and would never, ever admit it.
The duke nodded gravely back, although Kitty was sure she caught a glint of amusement in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t go to the house,” Dan said. “We still haven’t found Franks or Smith, but Dad’s worried someone might still be watching us. From where, I don’t know. But it’s you he’s worried about. I’ll tell him and Rob you’re here. We’ll find you.”
Because she didn’t know what else to do, Kitty took the duke on a tour of the Gardens, recalling stories as she went about the creation of various areas or amusing events that had happened there. He asked questions, smiled, and even laughed. If he was merely being polite, he gave no sign.
Only when they reached the building site, where the hotel was further along than before, did his eyes grow bleak and cold. Kitty shivered in the silence, and then his arm came around her, hugging her hard to his side.
“I hate that you suffered here,” he whispered.
“So do I,” she said wryly, and a breath of laughter stirred her hair. Something soft and warm touched her head—surely not his lips?—and then he released her, merely drawing her hand through his arm instead.
Luke appeared, grinning, and gave her an enthusiastic report on the building’s progress. “Despite the setback, I really think we might be ready to open at Christmas. Or at least New Year. Barring any more accidents, of course.”
“Good news, indeed,” Kitty agreed. “Tell Vera I’ll write.”
As they walked on, she told the duke about Vera and Luke and how the Harrises were reluctant to let them marry.
“What will they do?”
“Vera says she will marry him with or without their consent. After all, she is one-and-twenty. She will do it, too.”
“Vera is the same age as you?”
“Yes, there are only a few weeks between her birthday and mine. Which is one reason Sal offered to bring us up together.”
For some reason, the duke seemed to think about that quite deeply. Then the small coffee marquee, where he had first told her of his belief she was his lost cousin, came in sight, and they sat sheltered from the sharp breeze, with a beam of autumnal sunshine to warm them.
Here, Uncle Bill came to join them, with Rob and Dan. Uncle Bill kissed the top of her head, as casually as if she was back after an hour at the market, and yet she felt his intense pleasure across the table as he sat down.
“Any news?” he asked the duke.
“None. You?”
Uncle Bill shook his head gloomily. “We’re still looking. So is Mr. Dunne, but Albert Franks seems to have vanished into the mist, along with Alf Smith.”
“Maybe he got hurt in the fire, too,” Kitty said suddenly, and they all stared at her.
“Actually, that’s a very good point,” the duke murmured. “And one Dunne might have overlooked. Tea, gentlemen?”
For the next half hour, they talked of other things. It was curious, Kitty thought, as her uncle and cousins departed about their business, that somehow, they had been beguiled into talking to the duke as equals. He did not hold himself high in the instep but accepted people with respect, from the princess to Uncle Bill and everyone who worked for him. It was an endearing trait and one she imagined more intensely afterward as he told her amusing tales from his childhood running wild at Dearham Abbey and the neighboring land, which belonged to Lord Harry’s family. A lot of his stories involved his own siblings and the de Veres, but there were also a blacksmith’s daughter and farmer’s sons, shepherds, and laborer’s families.
“Is it the same with all these friends, now you are the duke?” she asked curiously.
His smile was crooked. “It wasn’t the same before I was the duke. How could it be? We all grew up. Our people had to work, while Harry went off to be a soldier, and Robert and I went to Oxford. I became my lord, not Johnny.”
“And you miss it.”
He shrugged. “Someone has to be the duke. And I wouldn’t swap. It’s better than working for my living.”
“But you do work,” she said shrewdly. “I’ve seen you poring over reports in the library, sending off bags full of instructions, meeting with all those men of business. And I have only been with you for a couple of weeks.”
“Is that all?” he said in vague surprise.
“I expect the time drags,” she said with mock sympathy, and he grinned.
“You know it doesn’t. Will you come to Dearham Abbey for Christmas?”
“Who will be there?” she asked warily.
“Just a gaggle of Winters. I think Meg and Harry will be gone by then, but my other sister, Martha, will come with her husband and children. And Peter. My mother, of course. Great-Aunt Augusta, inevitably. Possibly a few friends.”
Like the princess. “Sir, I will not fit in with these people,” Kitty protested.
“Why not? You appear to fit perfectly with Meg and Harry and their tribe.”
“But this is different, isn’t it?” She took a deep breath. “Even if I were your cousin, I would have little enough right to be there. As it is, I have none. I am Bill Renwick’s niece, and you will be ashamed of me.”
He looked startled. “Of course, I will not.”
“Be reasonable. I have the wrong accent, the wrong conversation, no knowledge of the aristocracy or the ton. I will use the wrong fork, be clumsy and gauche. Your guests and I will despise each other, and I shall be miserable.”
He blinked and smiled. She wished his smile didn’t melt her in quite this fashion. “Don’t be silly. I shall make sure you are not.”
“How?” she challenged.
He considered. “Because I think you are a little like me. You don’t simply like or dislike someone just because of their place in the world. My family—and my friends—will respect that, some of them, probably, without quite knowing why.”
She walked on silently beside him. Then she said, “I will still feel a fraud.”
“Because you don’t feel yourself to be my cousin?”
“Something like that.”
Somehow, they were climbing the steps to the lily pond. It was different in daylight, and at this precise moment, the sun shone directly on the water. The boulders around it were warmed, and they sat side by side in silence for a while.
His presence seemed to seep into her along with his physical warmth. Just for a little, she let her pleasure in his company wash through her, enjoying the sweet edge of excitement.
He said casually, “I am not Aline Hagerin’s lover.”
Oh, don’t spoil it, don’t lie to me. “Why would you even trouble to say that? It is none of my business.”
“Isn’t it? I may have been out of order to kiss you as I did on the stairs that night, but it is probably hurtful to imagine I could go straight from that delight to her arms.”
“Lies would be hurtful.”
He turned his face toward her. The sun dappled across his hair and his skin. “Why would I lie?” he asked curiously.
She picked a dying leaf off a nearby hedge and began to shred it in her lap. “I saw you.”
“The night she arrived. In the passage.”
It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway.
“When I first met Aline,” he said conversationally, “it was four years ago. She was pretending to be married to a Bonapartist spy in order to discover the chain of his contacts. In spite of all that, she took the time to help my sisters. I had never met anyone like her. Actually, I still haven’t. But I used to wonder, when I was lonely, what it would be like to meet her again.”
“What was it like?” She tried not to care.
“Different. We had grown, changed. Or I had. I suppose she will always have a little piece of my heart—a pleasant piece, but one I don’t really need. I recognized it that first day. And at her door that evening, I kissed her cheek and left her.”
She raised her eyes from the shredded leaf to his face. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know. Because we are friends. Because although I shouldn’t have, I did kiss you.”
And not on the cheek.
His hand closed over hers. Without meaning to, she threaded her fingers through his and listened to the urgent, insistent beat of her heart. When they spoke after that, it was about little things, funny things that did not matter. It was he who mattered, whose being seemed to seep into her soul and wrap around her heart. She made no effort to disentangle their hands, and neither did he, until the sun moved, and the cold began to penetrate her warm cloak. Then, as one, they stood, and he handed her down the stone steps. For a while, they walked hand in hand, and nothing had ever felt so sweet. But on the public path, he offered her his arm more properly, and they walked down to the gate to climb into the solitary waiting hackney.
They were half-way home before she realized he had not asked again if she would come back with him to Grosvenor Square. In the end, neither of them had doubted it.
She re-entered the house in something of a glow from the day of pure happiness she had spent with him. More than that, she felt she had drawn back a couple of layers from the invisible mask he habitually wore. Though this made her want to know more, her growing understanding deepened her contentment. It did not even seem wrong to have been holding hands with him for so long, for there was a special pleasure in that. Of course, she had no real idea what it signified now or what it meant for the future. But as they stepped into the house, she did not care about those things. She was living for the moment.
The duke came to a sudden halt. The footman closed the door behind them, and Kitty followed Johnny’s gaze to the top of the staircase, where a regal, middle-aged lady stood. She was too far away for Kitty to read her expression, but her posture declared barely contained outrage.
“Mama,” Johnny said amiably. “What a pleasant surprise. I was not expecting to see you until next month at Dearham Abbey.”
“So I perceive,” uttered the lady.
Unhurriedly, the duke unfastened Kitty’s cloak and, as she shrugged it off and passed it to Aidan with her old bonnet, Johnny winked at her.
“Her bark is worse than her bite,” he murmured and offered Kitty his arm to ascend the stairs.
The duchess sailed ahead of them into the suddenly daunting formality of the drawing room, where she turned, stony-faced and silent.
Johnny sighed. “Mama, allow me to present Miss Kitty Renwick, who is Cousin Margaret’s long-lost daughter. Cousin Kitty, my mother, the Dowager Duchess of Dearham.
Kitty curtseyed as Meg had taught her. Though Kitty felt rather pleased with the grace of her gesture, the duchess did not acknowledge it, merely transferred her cold gaze from Kitty’s face to her son’s.
“You are ridiculous,” she stated. “Whoever this female is, she is not Margaret’s daughter.”
“Your Grace is mistaken,” the duke said evenly. “Ludovic Dunne—who, as you know, is responsible for having Dominic Gorse’s wrongful conviction quashed and discovering the truth about the Cornish embezzlement—has traced Margaret’s last days to the room in which Kitty was born.”
“I don’t care if he traced the very bed. Margaret’s daughter was not named Kitty or Katherine or anything remotely similar.”
