A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)

A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3) Page 28

For a moment he looked as though he’d argue the same point. But then he seemed to reconsider.

“Fine,” he said, lifting his good shoulder in resignation. “You’re right. I must be mistaken. I never knew you as a child. You were never the daughter of a whore. All the more reason why you shouldn’t tell the Gramercys anything about this.”

“But I have to,” she whispered. “I must. They deserve to know. They’ve been so kind to me, offered me so much faith. I have to tell them. Today.”

He struggled to his feet. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“No.” She sniffed. “I don’t want you there. I don’t want you anywhere near me.” She jabbed a finger to her breastbone. “I tried to see the best in you, despite all your surliness. I defended you in my heart, even in the face of your callous rejections, and yesterday . . . I was ready to marry you, you heartless man. I foolishly thought I was coming to love you.”

Her voice broke. “And you were lying to me. All along, from the very moment you walked into this village and saw me singing in that borrowed India shawl. You lied to me. You forced me into this joke of a betrothal. You made me a fool in front of all my friends, as well as the people I hoped to call family. All this, when you knew—you knew how much it meant to me. I can’t keep letting you hurt me, Thorne. You were right, that day in the churchyard. I need someone capable of sympathy and caring. I need a better man.”

“Katie—”

“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that again.”

He caught her by the arm. “Katie, I can’t let you walk away. Not like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because I—”

Her racing pulse stumbled. If he told her he loved her, right here and now, she wouldn’t be able to leave. Even after all he’d done, she wouldn’t have it in her to walk away. He had to know that.

Go on, she silently urged. Just say three words and I’m yours.

“Because you’ve spent the night here,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes. Coward.

“You spent the night alone in my quarters,” he said. “If anyone notices that, you’ll be ruined. Completely.”

“I’ll take my chances. I’d rather be ruined than be with you.” She wrested out of his grip and went to the door. “Our engagement is over.”

“You’re right, it is over,” he said. “We’ll be married today.”

Chapter Fifteen

Thorne had known all along that this would happen. He’d warned her, again and again, that if she knew him, she’d want to get as far away as possible.

He watched her now, inching toward the door, wearing an expression of pure disgust.

“Marry you? Today?” She shook her head. “You’ve gone mad. Perhaps it was the adder venom.”

“I’d never claim to be a learned man, but I have my wits about me.” He crossed the room slowly, learning his new balance with a leaden right arm. “You’ve spent the night with me. Alone. In my personal quarters.”

“But you were ill. I couldn’t leave you. I had no choice. And besides, nothing happened.” A blush touched her cheeks. “Well, almost nothing.”

A shudder went through him as he recalled the sweet flicker of her shy, velvet tongue and the soft heat of her sex. And all those naive, starry-eyed promises—offers to keep him and love him and give him a home, as if he were another stray pup she’d adopted.

Evidently, those offers were rescinded now.

He said, “You know as well as I, it doesn’t matter what did or didn’t happen. It’s what people will assume.” He hadn’t removed her from a whorehouse all those years ago just to make her look the slattern now. “We must marry. You’ve no choice.”

“Of course I have a choice. Watch me make it.” She wrenched open the door and dashed through it. He watched her disappear in the direction of the village—running with all the haste of a bat fleeing dawn.

With a wistful thought that he’d have preferred to do this with some bread and ale in his stomach, Thorne set off in pursuit. Badger happily joined the parade, ears flattened against his head.

As she hurried down the path that led from the castle bluffs to the village, she threw him a look over her shoulder. “Stop following me. I’m not marrying you, Thorne. You’re going to America. I mean to stay here in England. With my family.”

The path straightened onto a gentle downslope. Thorne forced his weary limbs into a sprint, gaining ground until he could stretch out his left hand and catch her by the arm.

Ignoring her cry of outrage, he wheeled her to face him. Her hair escaped its pins, tumbling about her shoulders in heavy waves. She stared at him, breathing hard.

He found himself equally starved for air. What was it she’d said earlier?

Rapturously stunning beyond all words and comprehension.

Yes, that about summed it up.

He said, “You need to ask yourself one important question. If that family is truly your family and they’re so very understanding . . . why did your mother never go to them? Before Simon died, why didn’t he tell anyone about his child?”

“Perhaps there wasn’t time. And like Aunt Marmoset explained, their parents never approved of their love. But Evan was only a boy then. Times are different now. These Gramercys are different. They will not abandon me.”

“What if they do? If you’re turned out of the Queen’s Ruby—and after spending the night with me, you likely will be—you’ll have no living whatsoever. How will you support yourself?”

She shrugged. “I do have friends. That may be a foreign concept to you, but there are people who will help me. Susanna and Lord Rycliff would take me in.”

“I’m certain they would. But Rycliff’s my superior officer. If I acquaint him with the circumstances, he’ll agree we must wed.”

She turned and stared out over the green-blue sea, looking desperate and forlorn. His chest ached.

“Katie,” he said, “I am trying to do the honorable thing.”

She swung a fierce glare on him. “Well, you’re a year too late!”

He knew he deserved that. “It’s unfair. I know it. You were too softhearted to leave me last night, and now you have to pay for it with your future. It’s the way of things. Acts of kindness come with costs attached.”

This was one lesson life had taught him well.

But he’d do it all again. He’d swallow an entire nest of live adders if it meant sparing her a moment’s pain.

He tried to put something soothing in his voice, rather than the usual blend of sawmill grist and impersonal authority. “Come. Let me take you home. You’re tired.”

“I am tired. Tired of secrets, tired of lies. But most of all, I’m weary of living with uncertainty, feeling pulled between two pasts, two futures. I’m going to speak with Evan and tell him everything. Exactly what happened and didn’t happen last night. I’ll tell him all about Ellie Rose and the Southwark brothel. We’re going to have this all out in the open, and then I’ll hear what he has to say.”

“Why should you trust Drewe to make the decisions? You’ve only known him a few weeks. He hasn’t—”

“I said, I’ll hear what he has to say,” she replied. “I will make my own decisions. I’ve allowed you to decide far too much ever since the Gramercys arrived in my life. I’m paying the price for it now, but I will not make the same mistake again.”

“I’ve only been—”

“Looking out for me? Oh, yes.” She spread her arms and indicated her rumpled gown. “And a fine job you’ve done of it, too.”

“My intentions were decent.”

“Please.” She jabbed a finger in the center of his chest. “You betrayed me, Thorne. You lied to me. You can’t fathom how to love me. I am not marrying you. Not today. Not ever.”

He exhaled slowly.

Not ever.

Once a woman made her wishes that clear, a man would be a villain to keep pursuing her. She understood the risks. She did have friends, if she needed help. If she wanted him out of her life, Thorne would leave it. Today.

“I’m going home to the rooming house now.” She backed away. “Don’t follow me.”

“I’ve arrangements to make in London,” he said. “I’ll leave this morning.”

“Good.” She crossed her arms over her chest, turned and strode off down the pathway. The wind gusting in from the open sea whipped her hair and gown in all directions, but her own path never swerved.

Thorne watched her go—until a high-pitched canine whimper drew his attention.

Badger stood waiting at his heel, tail thumping. The dog whined anxiously as he looked to Miss Taylor’s retreating form, then back to Thorne.

“Go on,” Thorne said, releasing Badger to chase. “Watch over her for me.”

As Kate walked back to the village, she reached a forked pathway. The left-hand path continued into the village, and the right led out to the main road.

She turned right and stared into the distance. Perhaps she should just keep walking—make her way to some other village and start over. She could look for music pupils again, or become a governess. She could board a ship and go anywhere in the world. Surely braving Australia would be easier than sitting down with Lord Drewe and explaining the events of last night.

No, no. She muzzled the irrational voice urging her to flee. Starting over in a strange place wasn’t a prudent idea for a single, unprotected woman.

Ellie Rose, whoever the poor soul was, had probably fostered high hopes of taking her baby and doing just that. And look where she’d ended.

Kate took the left-hand path, trudging toward the Queen’s Ruby in the early light of dawn. She couldn’t stomach any further evasion, deception, or half-truths. It was time to make a clean breast of it with everyone and hope for the best.

As she neared the center of the village, a hiss from an alleyway startled her.

“Kate.”

“Who’s there?”

A figure darted out from the shadows, blanketing her with an immense, dark cloak. The heavy fabric suffocated Kate and she flailed instinctively. She felt attacked.

Oh, what an irony it would be if not twenty minutes after refusing Thorne’s protection, she were kidnapped and held for ransom. He might finally laugh at that.

“Stop struggling,” a voice told her. “Almost have it . . .”

Kate’s head finally emerged through the top of the cloak. She could breathe again. And see.

“Harry?” Stunned, she blinked at the beautiful, unconventional woman she’d come to think of as a cousin.

Harry put her arm around Kate, steering her back onto the street.

“Oh, Miss Taylor!” she proclaimed loudly. “What a lovely walk we’ve had this morning. So invigorating, marching all over the Downlands. The dog enjoyed it, too.”

“What on earth are you talking of?” Kate whispered.

“Just play along,” Harry murmured back, draping the cloak about Kate’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. Unless they see you’re wearing yesterday’s gown, no one will even suspect.”

“No one will suspect what?”

Harry lifted her voice as they neared the Queen’s Ruby entrance. “Really, what a lovely ramble. The weather’s glorious. If I were the sort to gather flowers, I should have plucked dozens.”

As they entered the rooming house, Mrs. Nichols came to greet them. The older woman wore an expression of true concern.

“Oh, Miss Taylor. How good to see you this morning. Are you feeling better, dear?”

Kate stammered. “I—I . . .”

“Of course she’s feeling better.” Harry plucked Badger into her arms. “Just look at those roses on her cheeks. I’ve always said, there’s nothing that a good brisk walk through open country can’t cure.”