Silk And Steel Part 10

She couldn't afford to wait for fate to turn in her direction. She had tried that avenue before. This time, Kathryn meant to drag fate, kicking and screaming, along whatever path it took to keep her safe.

Allison Hartman was frantic. First her betrothed had raced off to London as if a fire had been set beneath him, following after Kathryn Gray-no, not Kathryn Gray. Lady Kathryn Grayson-not a commoner, but an aristocrat. Allison nearly swooned to think of the deceit the woman had perpetrated upon them. Lord protect us-Kathryn Grayson was a mental patient escaped from the madhouse at St. Bart's!

Now Lord Litchfield was returned and so immersed in some secret business he hardly spared her a glance. It was frustrating. It was frightening. Allison was certain she was losing him, and that awful woman was the cause.

Allison had heard the story. Her mother's lady's maid, Gladys Honeywell, was a friend of one of the servants who worked at Castle Running. To garner the baroness's favor-and a few extra shillings in her pay-Gladys had been relaying the gossip she overheard at the castle ever since Allison's betrothal, and recently she had uncovered quite a juicy morsel.

"You won't believe it, milady," Gladys had said, her eyes as big and round as the porcelain saucer beneath the baroness's teacup. " 'Twas scandalous, it was, the house overrun with constables, his lordship shoutin', commandin' them to leave. They told him the girl was dangerous-that's what they said. Said she tried to murder her cousin, the Earl of Dunstan's daughter. Then they carted her off to St. Bart's, dragged her right back to the madhouse, and her ravin' like a lunatic all the way."

That had been more than three weeks ago. Lucien had left the same night for London and only just returned. Since then Allison had seen him just once, and aside from a few words a.s.suring her Lady Kathryn wasn't the madwoman she had heard, he refused to discuss the subject at all.

And now there was more bad news.

"I can't believe it, Mama, surely there is some mistake." Allison paced the room where the baroness sat at a small French writing desk, sorting through engraved wedding invitations that had already been addressed and were ready to be posted.

"I am certain it is true," her mother said. "Gladys said two men came yesterday to the castle. They told the marquess that brigands had broken into St. Bart's and abducted Lady Kathryn. They said they were worried about her safety in the care of such men and asked if he knew anything that might be of a.s.sistance, or if he had any idea where they might have gone."

"How would the marquess know something like that? And who in the world would abduct a madwoman?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know. But I am truly disappointed. I heartily disapprove of his lordship's involvement, however slight, in such a scandalous affair. Your father and I had a lengthy discussion on the subject just this morning."

Allison paused in front of the big gilt mirror over the fireplace to check her appearance. "And?" She straightened the whalebone panniers beneath her peach silk skirts, which fell to just the right length to expose a glimpse of her stockings.

"And your father has agreed to look into the matter-discreetly of course. If the marquess had something to do with Lady Kathryn's disappearance-"

Allison's sharp intake of breath stopped her mother mid-sentence. "You aren't suggesting... ? Surely you and Papa don't believe the marquess was behind Lady Kathryn's abduction? Why on earth would he do such a thing?"

"I am not saying he was responsible. But he was certainly opposed to her being locked away."

"You're wrong, Mother. Lucien wouldn't involve himself in something like that." But in truth she wasn't so sure. How much did she really know about the Marquess of Litchfield? Other than the fact he was handsome, rich, and t.i.tled, that he was the most sought-after bachelor in London and marrying him made her the envy of every woman in society, she knew almost nothing of her betrothed.

"Whatever the case," her mother said, "we will soon discover the truth. Your father has employed a Bow Street runner to ferret out the facts of the matter. The baron will do whatever is necessary to protect you and your future husband's good name."

Allison relaxed a little at that. She knew her parents wanted this marriage. Her father admired the marquess and wanted her to have the luxuries such a wealthy, t.i.tled aristocrat could provide. Her mother wanted the prestige she would gain with her daughter married to such a man.

Whatever the reasons, her parents would take care of the problem as they always did. Allison could return to the ladies' book of fashion that she had been reading, confident everything would be all right.

Winifred Montaine Dewitt stepped down from the plain black unmarked carriage that pulled up in front of Lucien's hunting lodge. She had taken only two steps when the door of the lodge burst open and Kathryn Grayson rushed out.

Winnie simply opened her arms and, without a moment's hesitation, Kathryn stepped into her embrace.

"I'm so glad to see you," the girl said with such a fierce hug Winnie felt the sting of tears. "Lucien... I mean, the marquess said you would come, but I wasn't really sure."

"Don't be silly. Of course I would come." Arm in arm, they started back to the house. "I would have been here sooner. In truth, I'm still mad as fire at my nephew for not telling me he intended to spirit you away."

Kathryn smiled. She looked healthy, her cheeks blooming with color, no longer wan and pale from the effects of the drug, as Lucien had described. "I'll never forget what the marquess has done for me."

Nor will my nephew easily be able to forget you, Winnie thought, seeing in her mind's eye Lucien's determined efforts to help her and the constant worry he tried to hide. He had always been a caring man, especially loyal to those he called friends, but Winnie had never seen him quite like this.

Back inside the cozy lodge, Kathryn motioned her toward the camelback sofa in front of the hearth.

"The marquess has been in constant contact with his solicitor since his return to the castle," Winnie told her. "Nathaniel Whitley is a very competent man."

"Do you know him?"

Winnie felt an unexpected warmth rise into her cheeks. "I knew him when I was younger. I hadn't seen him in years. Last week, he came to the castle to discuss the matter of your guardianship." And he was still as handsome as ever. More so, perhaps, with the gangliness of youth long gone and the touch of silver in his hair. There was none of the boyish shyness so much a part of him when he was younger. Nathaniel Whitley was a man, strong and competent, and undeniably attractive.

Perhaps it was the way he had looked at her that had made her take notice. As if she were still a desirable, attractive woman. It bothered her to think that she had responded to that look, since Nat was a married man.

"Make yourself comfortable, Aunt Winnie, and I'll fix us some tea." Kathryn bent to fill a teapot from the kettle of boiling water that hung from a hook above the fire. "In the meantime, you can tell me what progress the men are making."

Winnie sighed. "Not much, I'm afraid. Every legal avenue seems to be blocked, or is, as soon as they discover it. Your uncle is an extremely powerful man."

A shudder pa.s.sed over Kathryn's willowy frame though the room was cozy and warm. She threw a handful of loose tea into the china pot and replaced the lid, allowing the leaves to steep.

"The earl has my money at his command, and there is a good deal of it. Does Lord Litchfield have any idea what we might do?"

Winnie leaned forward, accepting the steaming cup of tea Kathryn had poured for her. "He's frustrated, I can tell you. But he isn't about to give up."

Kathryn sighed and sank down on the sofa beside her, steadying the teacup in her lap. "I feel so useless. I can't simply stand by and do nothing, and I can't stay here forever. Sooner or later, my uncle will discover where I am. Once he does..." Kathryn didn't finish. Instead her gaze slid off to the low-burning flames of the fire.

Winnie's heart went out to her. She couldn't begin to imagine the terrible things Kathryn had suffered in a place like St. Bart's. But Lucien had told her some of what he had seen, and it was more than enough. Winnie set her cup on the table in front of the sofa, reached out and clasped Kathryn's hand.

"You mustn't lose heart, my dear. The marquess will find a way to help you. He won't give up until he does."

Kathryn tried to smile, but her face looked suddenly pale. "You don't know what it was like in there. I won't go back-not ever. I'll do whatever it takes-anything I have to-in order to protect myself."

Winnie squeezed her hand. "Lucien will find a way," she said firmly. But as much as she wanted to believe it, she couldn't really be sure.

NINE.

Kathryn inspected her small cottage domain, making certain everything was in proper order for the visitor soon to arrive. That morning Bennie Taylor had brought word that Lucien would be joining her for supper. It would be the first time she had seen him since the day he had left for his home.

Kathryn leaned over and lifted the heavy iron lid on the kettle hanging over the fire. The servant the marquess had sent to help her, a girl named f.a.n.n.y Penderga.s.s who was the housekeeper's daughter, had prepared a simple meal of mutton stew, fruit, cheese, and fresh baked bread for the occasion. f.a.n.n.y was staying with Bennie's family in a cottage in the woods not far away and would return to the lodge on the morrow.

Though it was highly improper to entertain the marquess alone, Kathryn had given the girl leave to retire for the evening early. There were matters she wished to discuss and she wanted to do so in private. Besides it really didn't matter. Her reputation had been destroyed the day she'd been committed to St. Bart's. What little might have remained slipped away with her soiled nightclothes the evening Lucien had helped her to bathe.

As it always did, Kathryn's face heated up at the thought. And deep inside something soft unfurled, making her stomach feel fluttery and warm. She tried to tell herself it was simply the antic.i.p.ation of a visitor after so much confinement, but she knew it wasn't the truth. Though Aunt Winnie had come to call, and the d.u.c.h.ess of Carlyle had paid her a very enjoyable, unexpected visit, she had missed the marquess's presence more than she cared to admit.

It was Litchfield she was eager to see, and as much as she tried to fight it, she couldn't contain her excitement that he was soon to appear. Wanting to look her best, Kathryn chose a simple gown of soft yellow wool that draped over a quilted petticoat. She pinned her braid into a wreath above her head and pinched her cheeks to give them color, pining for the days when she'd owned a pot of rouge.

Kathryn shoved a strand of dark hair into place as she checked the stew to make sure it wouldn't burn and waited impatiently for the marquess to appear.

Lucien left the castle late in the afternoon for the two-hour ride to the lodge. He hadn't seen Kathryn Grayson in nearly a week, not since his return to Castle Running. His aunt had paid a call, and Velvet Sinclair had gone to see her as soon as Jason had confessed to freeing the girl from St. Bart's.

According to the duke, his fiery-tempered wife had been furious-not at the role Jason had played in aiding Kathryn's escape, but simply that he had seen fit to act without her a.s.sistance.

Lucien smiled. Jason was lucky to have found such a lady, a woman who fit his volatile disposition so perfectly. Lucien's own tastes, however, ran in a different direction. He didn't want a headstrong, willful wife. A woman like Velvet was simply too much trouble. He wanted a mild-tempered, obedient sort of woman.

And less than one month hence, he would have one. The wedding was set, the invitations posted. In the beginning, Allison had tried to convince him to wait until after the first of the year, till spring and the Season began. He had politely but firmly refused. He wanted to get on with the marriage and the business of siring an heir, and once his decision had been made as to whom he would choose for the role of wife, he was ready to proceed with all haste.

In truth, his physical needs had also played a part in his decision. He was used to taking his pleasure as often as he wished, but now, with his wedding so close at hand, he refused to embarra.s.s his betrothed and her family by risking gossip of his amorous affairs.

Lately, after the days he had spent at the lodge, he was more impatient than ever for the wedding to take place. His confinement with Kathryn had left him badly in need of a woman, his blood running hotter than it had in as long as he could remember. Thank G.o.d he would be married and the problem remedied in less than three weeks.

An image of his young wife-to-be appeared in Lucien's mind and he smiled. Allison was a sweet little thing, rather like a bite of sugar candy. He had never been pa.s.sionately attracted to the girl, certainly he had never felt the hot l.u.s.t he felt for Kathryn Grayson, but she was young and pretty, and bedding her would certainly not be a burden.

Allison was even-tempered and well schooled in the art of being a wife. Her reputation was flawless, her family background impeccable. Allison would get on well in society and make a very appropriate marchioness. She would bear him the sons he needed to insure his family's lineage, and he could go on with his life as if nothing much had changed.

Lucien straightened in the saddle as a gust of wind rose up through the trees, rustling dead leaves along the path. Blade snorted and tossed his head, flinging his glistening black mane. Lucien leaned over, ran a gloved hand along the animal's neck.

"Easy, boy, we're almost there." Almost to the place deep in the forest that he had been avoiding since his return to the castle. Guilt had forced his decision to come back, the promise he had made to see her.

It was caution that had kept him away.

Every time he thought of Kathryn Grayson, he saw her slender, graceful body as she had stood naked beside the bathing tub. He imagined her small pointed b.r.e.a.s.t.s, the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands as he had lifted her into the steaming water, her tiny waist, and long shapely legs. He remembered the way she responded to his kiss, the pliant fullness of her lips, her little sigh of pleasure, the intriguing weight of her breast in his palm, the stiffness of her nipple.

Every time he thought of Kathryn, he remembered those things and he went rock-hard.

Just as he did now.

d.a.m.nation! Lucien swore several silent oaths, adjusting himself inside his tight black breeches, trying to ignore the ache, trying to get comfortable with his groin so heavy and full. That he wanted her went without saying. Which was why he had stayed away as long as he possibly could.

This morning, the promise he had made to her nagged at him until he was forced to act. He prayed the little maid he had sent to the house would be there to act as chaperone and remind him to keep his wits about him.

He arrived at dusk, the windows of the lodge glowing with the soft light of candles. He had always loved the old log house, an unpretentious structure in a lovely secluded glen where the trappings of his position could be forgotten, at least for a while. As he stepped down from his horse, he saw Kathryn's silhouette outlined in the window. She greeted him at the door with a smile that beckoned him in.

"Good evening, my lord."

His eyes ran over her from top to bottom, taking in the rose in her cheeks, the healthy color of her skin. Bothersome memories arose and his body stirred, but Lucien battered them down. "It's good to see you, Kathryn. I'm glad to find you looking so well."

The rose in her cheeks went deeper. "I'm feeling quite fit, thanks to you."

He ducked his head beneath the door frame and walked in, inhaled the aroma of fresh bread and simmering meat. "Whatever you have on the fire certainly smells delicious. I didn't realize how hungry I was until now."

"Mutton stew and fresh baked bread. Simple fare by your standards, my lord, but by mine, it's a meal fit for a king."

He frowned at the reminder of what her life had been at St. Bart's. "I wish you could stay at the castle, but for now I'm afraid this will have to do."

She smiled. "I am hardly complaining. As I said, even this simple existence seems a luxury to me."

Lucien glanced toward the table and chairs positioned near the fire. "I see you have the chessboard set up. I had hoped we might play a game."

"I feared you might not be able to stay that late."

He shouldn't, he knew. Not when he found her so b.l.o.o.d.y attractive. Even now, his palms itched with the memory of cupping those small, soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s and he began to grow hard. He wondered where the serving maid was and found himself hoping, against all common sense, that the girl had left for the night.

"It isn't wise for me to stay," he said. " 'Tis hardly seemly to be here with you at all, but I suppose the point is moot at this juncture, and in truth I have missed our games."

Kathryn grinned. " 'Of joys departed, not to return, how painful the memory.' "

Lucien laughed. "Robert Blair. So your taste runs to more modern works as well as the ancient Greeks."

"I admit I'll read most anything. And I am cursed with a memory for such things."

"I should think such a memory would come in handy with the medical texts you are interested in," As he wouldn't have at home, he shrugged out of his riding coat and tossed it over a chair, leaving him in boots, shirt, and breeches. "You don't mind, I hope. Somehow it is difficult to be formal here."

Kathryn smiled. "I don't mind in the least. And you are right. My memory has served me well in my studies."

He didn't pursue that topic and Kathryn seemed grateful. It wasn't a subject that sat easily between them. Instead, while he seated himself in a wing-back chair, Kathryn made her way to the fire and began to serve up the meal.

"Tell me what is happening with my uncle," she said over her shoulder. "Have you been able to make any progress where he is concerned?"

At the thought of Dunstan, Lucien bit back a foul curse. "The man is an outrage. There are no limits he will not go to where you are concerned. I've had constables at my door asking questions about your disappearance, and my solicitor has been warned by the magistrates to cancel our pet.i.tion for a change of guardianship. They say they will oppose whatever we present to the courts. I must tell you, Kathryn, I am hard-pressed to know where to go from here."

In the light of the fire, he could see the frown that formed on her forehead. The ladle of stew paused at the edge of the heavy iron pot. "Perhaps I should leave the country. In the Colonies, I could make a new life. I wouldn't have to worry about my uncle and the power he holds over me."

Lucien rose from his chair and crossed the room to where she stood. He hated to bring her more bad news. He didn't want her to worry, but it was better that she knew the truth. "I'm not certain you could get there even if you tried. Your uncle has men scouring the country. Every port has been alerted. They'll be watching for a woman of your description who might be trying to book pa.s.sage. Even bribery might not be enough to ensure your safe escape."

The color bled from her cheeks. "He has gone to those lengths to find me?" Her fingers went lax and the ladle dropped back into the stew pot. Lucien took the handle from her shaking hands and set the pot down on the table.

"I shouldn't have told you. I thought you would want to know."

Kathryn straightened, dragged in a shaky breath of air. "I'm glad you did. I have to know the truth if I'm going to protect myself." Unconsciously she twisted the ap.r.o.n she'd tied over her pretty yellow dress. "I don't understand it. Why won't he just let me go? Surely if I left the country-"

"He has to keep you under his control. As long as you're free, there is always the risk the truth will come out and he'll lose access to your fortune-to say nothing of the scandal. Dunstan has political aspirations. He can't afford to take that kind of risk." He didn't add that her age was also a factor. Once she reached her majority at the age of four and twenty, should she prove to be sound of mind, her inheritance would pa.s.s out of Dunstan's hands and into her own.

"I have to do something. Sooner or later he'll find me. I can't just sit here and let that happen."

Lucien reached out and gently caught her shoulders, felt the tremors that ran through her body. "You mustn't lose faith. I have half a dozen of the best legal experts in England working on this. I've hired men to investigate Dunstan. They'll ferret out every detail of his past and whatever misdeeds he is up to at present. Sooner or later, one of them is bound to come up with something that will help us."

Kathryn only shook her head. "I can't take that risk. I have to do something-I have to find a way to protect myself." She turned away, but not before he caught the shimmer of tears.

Lucien caught her chin, turning her head and forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were closed but drops of moisture leaked from beneath her thick dark lashes. The concern he was feeling swelled, blossomed into a fierce urge to protect her.

"Trust me to help you," he said. "If something doesn't break soon, I'll find a way to get you out of the country."

She nodded but her throat constricted and the wetness spilled onto her cheeks. Lucien eased her into his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder, her slim fingers pressing into the front of his shirt. He could feel her heartbeat, feel her warmth and womanly curves, smell the rose soap she had used to wash her hair. Desire arched up, swift and hot, making his body go hard.

He wanted to slide the soft yellow gown off her shoulders, to see her naked as he had before. He wanted to pull the pins from her hair, to run his fingers through it, to bury his face in the shiny dark strands and inhale the faint rose scent of her.

Instead he drew away, used the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears from her cheeks. Unconsciously, his gaze drifted down to her mouth. Such a soft mouth, full and perfectly curved. He imagined the ruby hue deepening beneath the pressure of his kiss and couldn't seem to tear his gaze away. Kathryn must have noticed for her small pink tongue flicked out to moisten the corners, and Lucien groaned, the last of his control leaching away as if it had never existed. He had to taste those soft lips-G.o.d's breath, he would die if he didn't.