Silk And Steel Part 4

It was the handsome marquess with the silvery glint in his eyes, a spark that seemed to burn whatever it touched. Whenever she was with him, she found herself gazing at his lips, wondering if they were as hard as they looked; somehow she didn't think so. She wondered what it might be like if he kissed her, then felt ashamed of the thought. He belonged to Lady Allison. In less than two months, he would be wed.

Still, she couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop hearing his deep, silken laughter, couldn't stop seeing the dark, smoldering look that came over him whenever he glanced her way. It made the breath catch in her chest and the inside of her mouth feel dry, just as it did now, simply at the thought of seeing him tonight.

Kathryn paused at the foot of the stairs, took a last glance in the ornate gilded mirror, checked the cl.u.s.ter of powdered curls at the side her neck and the black heart-shaped patch at the corner of her mouth. She had never been so formally dressed in the marquess's presence and she couldn't deny the flutter in her stomach or the hope that he would approve.

Taking a final deep breath, she walked into the drawing room where her newfound friends stood conversing as they waited to go in to supper. Lucien was the first to notice her. For an instant, the silver light in his eyes seemed to glow.

"Miss Gray," he said, walking toward her, bowing gracefully over her hand. "We were beginning to wonder if you had found company more to your liking."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be late. I didn't realize how much time had slipped away."

"You are scarcely late. Besides, wasn't it Pepys who said, 'Better now than never'?"

She smiled. "Yes, though he is often misquoted. I believe that is in his diary."

A corner of his mouth curved up while his gaze drifted down to the tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "You look ravishing... Miss Gray."

A little thrill shot through her, though she tried her best to ignore it. "Better, I hope, than the first time we met."

He laughed in that deep, appealing way of his. " 'Tis the greatest of accomplishments, the ability to laugh at oneself."

Kathryn frowned. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to recall who said that."

The marquess grinned, making the angular planes of his face appear softer, less forbidding. "That is because I am the man who said it. You are quite an amazing woman, Miss Gray."

She could feel herself blushing at the compliment. She couldn't remember the last time flattery had been able to make her blush. Unable to come up with a suitable reply, she was grateful to Aunt Winnie for stepping into the breach.

"If my nephew is determined to monopolize Miss Gray's attention, I suggest we go on in to supper."

"Good idea," Jason said. "I'm starving."

They adjourned to a sumptuous meal of roast swan and oysters, sweetbreads of veal, potatoes in sh.e.l.ls, and a delicious orange and apple pudding. Kathryn found herself seated next to Litchfield, which was odd because they should have been seated by rank. The d.u.c.h.ess must have been guilty of the change, for when the marquess realized what had occurred, his dark gaze swung in her direction. It held a look of amus.e.m.e.nt tempered with a hint of warning.

For a moment, Kathryn found her cheeks heating up once more because in truth she liked sitting beside him.

"Perhaps Her Grace was right in seating us together," the marquess said easily. "I've been meaning to speak to you. I heard from my solicitor today. He's been making discreet inquiries about your guardianship. One of the Crown judges is a friend of his. He thinks the man would be amenable to the idea of removing you from Lord Dunstan's control."

Hope shimmered through her. "You are saying he might be able to arrange for a different guardian?"

"Yes."

"I should like nothing better, of course. Unfortunately, I can't imagine anyone who might accept the position."

Jason grinned as he leaned across the table. "How about the Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Carlyle?"

Kathryn could have shouted out loud. Instead she felt the unexpected bite of tears. "That would be wonderful. I don't know how to thank you."

"There's no need for thanks just yet," Jason said. "One judge's opinion is far from enough to make that sort of change, should Dunstan oppose it."

"Which most likely he will," Lucien said darkly.

"With your father's will to support his position, it won't be an easy matter to accomplish," the d.u.c.h.ess said. "But in time I'm certain Lord Litchfield will succeed."

"Until then," said Winnie, "you are safe here with Lucien and me. We've enjoyed your company immensely-haven't we, my lord?"

His eyes held hers for an instant. "That we have," he said a bit gruffly. "We certainly have, indeed."

Across the table the d.u.c.h.ess glanced at her husband, who was frowning, but the d.u.c.h.ess simply smiled.

After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room while the men remained in the dining room to smoke their pipes or take snuff and enjoy a gla.s.s of brandy.

Kathryn spent the better part of an hour talking to Lady Beckford and the d.u.c.h.ess, who insisted she dispense with formality and call her Velvet and carefully avoided painful questions about Kathryn's months in St. Bart's. Instead they spoke of children and marriage, Kathryn admitting those sorts of thoughts hadn't occurred to her since the day she'd been locked away.

"Well, you are free of that awful place now," Velvet said with feeling. "And Lucien shall see the matter resolved once and for all. He is very good at that sort of thing."

An image came to mind of the marquess as she had seen him that morning, riding with flawless grace across the fields, his sleek black horse almost a part of him. "The marquess is very good at a lot of things, I should think."

Velvet cast her a speculative glance. "You like him, don't you?"

A flush rose into her cheeks. "Lord Litchfield has been very kind to me."

Velvet smiled. "He is a kind man, yes. He is also handsome, intelligent, and incredibly male."

The flush was spreading down across her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She had thought those things more than once. She glanced over at Lady Beckford who, like the d.u.c.h.ess, seemed oddly interested in her reply. "Yes... I suppose he is."

Velvet glanced at Winnie, whose blond brows climbed a bit higher on her forehead.

"Lucien is a good man," Velvet said. "One of the very best. He can also be stubborn, brooding, and bad-tempered. He and my husband are both men used to having their way. They are constantly giving orders and they expect to be obeyed." She laughed. "Of course that has changed a good deal in the years since Jason married me."

Velvet plucked a piece of lint from her gold satin skirt, considering her next words. "Lucien, even more than Jason, expects his life to be orderly and exactly as he has planned. When things don't go just that way... well, he can become extremely difficult."

Kathryn frowned, trying to make sense of the conversation. "Are you giving me some sort of warning, Your Grace?"

"I suppose I am merely saying that Lucien's... friendship... might come at a certain price, but whatever that price is, if you care for him enough, it would be worth it."

Kathryn stared at both of the women, trying to discern the cryptic words but completely unable to do so. She felt a rush of relief when the butler appeared to announce that the gentlemen would be joining them for tea and cakes.

A few minutes later, her relief slid away as the marquess strode into the drawing room. From the moment he arrived and all through the balance of the evening, she could feel his gaze on her. Always he forced it away, as if he were surprised that it had strayed toward her again.

She was grateful when the evening finally came to an end. She thought that perhaps Lord Litchfield was equally thankful.

Lucien paced his study the following afternoon. Long angry strides carried him from one end of the thick Oriental carpet to the other and back again, wearing a path in the colorful patterns in the wool. The fire in the hearth had burned low, just a few flickering flames that burned orange and red and popped occasionally against the grate. Outside the window, a stiff wind whipped branches against the panes, and cold air seeped over the sill, but Lucien didn't feel the chill. He was too d.a.m.ned b.l.o.o.d.y angry.

He barely heard the knock at the door, just crossed the room and jerked it open.

Reeves's head snapped up at the dark look on his face. "You sent for me, my lord?"

"Fetch the girl," he commanded. "Bring her here at once."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir. I shall return in all haste, your lordship."

"See that you do and the girl had better be with you."

"Yes... yes of course, my lord."

Only a few minutes pa.s.sed before another knock sounded and the door swung open again, though it seemed like an hour to Lucien. Reeves ushered Kathryn Grayson into the room and backed away, hurriedly closing the door.

He gave her an evil half-smile. "Well, Miss Gray, how good of you to join me." He approached where she stood, his look so hard he could see the color drain from her cheeks.

"You're angry. What... what have I done?"

"It is not what you have done, my lady, it is what you have not done."

"I don't understand. I told you the truth. I told you who I am. I told you where I've been and how I got there."

"Who you are and where you have been, yes. Not exactly how you got there."

She began to wring the hands she had unconsciously clasped together in front of her. "What... what do you mean?"

"I mean you very conveniently left but the part where you attempted to poison your cousin, Lord Dunstan's daughter. That is what I mean. You also neglected to mention that the reason your uncle had you committed was that he found you in the process of cutting up a dead body!"

Her eyes looked like two green saucers. Her hand crept up to the base of her throat and her mouth opened up but she didn't say a word.

"What's the matter, Lady Kathryn? Has your tongue suddenly stopped working? Or are you simply attempting to concoct another falsehood? If that is the case, it is far too late for that. A doctor friend was good enough to procure your medical records. They are sitting over there on my desk. Those things happened-did they not, Lady Kathryn? That is the truth of why you were sent to St. Bart's."

A little sound escaped her throat, a sound of pain that made his chest feel suddenly tight. Pity had no place in this conversation and he ruthlessly forced the feeling away. Dammit, he'd had such faith in her. He felt furious and betrayed that this woman he had come to admire had lied to him again-or even worse-that she might in fact, actually be insane.

Kathryn tilted her head back and looked up at him. "I don't care what is in those papers," she said at last, "it wasn't that way. Whatever it says-it wasn't that way!"

"Are you telling me you did not try to poison Lady Muriel?"

"No, of course not! Muriel was sick with an ague. I gave her a potion to help cure it, but the medicine affected her adversely and she became violently sick to her stomach. No one had ever reacted that way-not in all the times I had used the same herbs. I wasn't trying to kill her-I was trying to help her! Lady Muriel knew it and so did her father."

"Then might I also a.s.sume the body you were cutting up was not someone you were more successful at killing?"

Tears filled her eyes, yet angry sparks seemed to shoot out from the centers. "It was a course of study, nothing more. There was a doctor in our village-Dr. Cunningham. Since I had been interested in medicine for quite some years-"

"Since the deaths of your mother and sister."

"That's right. Since that was so, Dr. Cunningham and I became good friends. We shared a common interest. I had been studying herbal cures. The doctor showed me more. He taught me anatomy, showed me how the human body works, ways to treat different maladies. In exchange, I helped him with his patients whenever I was able to slip out of the house."

Lucien mulled that over. He didn't like what she was saying, but at least it had the ring of truth. "And what of this body you were found with? You are saying this was part of your course of study?"

She stared down at the toe of her low-heeled slipper, then looked back into his face. "Dr. Cunningham was actually the one involved in dissecting the... the subject. He knew some men who provided him with... with a means to further his studies."

"Grave robbers, you mean. Resurrection men. Or were they out-and-out murderers, paid a tidy sum by your surgeon friend to provide him with a means to continue his studies? There have been any number of such cases."

"I don't... I don't know where he got it. But Dr. Cunningham is a man of honor. However he came into possession of the... cadaver... it was by honest means. I was interested to learn more of how the body functioned so the doctor let me watch." Her eyes slid closed for a moment, trying to hide the terror she was feeling, her fear of what he might do. Her hands were shaking, he saw. She looked as pale as parchment and for a moment he felt guilty.

Lucien steeled himself and forced the guilt away. He was tired of her lies and half-truths. If he was going to help her, he had to know the whole of it, no matter how d.a.m.ning it was.

"You are telling me that you-a young woman of the tender age of what? Twenty? That you were caught in the process of dissecting a human corpse?"

Her face went even paler. She swayed on her feet and he reached out a hand to steady her. Kathryn straightened away from him, forcing a stiffness into her spine. "I only wanted-"

"Let me guess-to further your education."

She shrugged her shoulders but her eyes were full of misery, and he couldn't miss the fear. "Some women are interested in painting or embroidery. I happen to be interested in learning ways to heal. What is so terrible about that?"

"If you were simply involved in a course of study, why did this Dr. Cunningham not come to your defense?"

"He tried to. My uncle threatened him. Douglas Roth made his life so difficult he finally left town. I haven't seen or heard from him since."

"a.s.suming that is the truth, what else have you neglected to tell me?"

Her head snapped up; her lashes were spiked with tears. "Nothing! I swear to you-there is nothing else for you to learn. I would have told you... the rest, but I was afraid of what you might think. I know the way you feel about my studies. I was afraid you wouldn't help me, and I desperately needed your help." Her eyes locked on his face, big green tear-filled eyes full of pain and desperation. "I still do."

Something in that look pulled hard at his insides. Kathryn Grayson was, without doubt, the most unusual female that he had ever encountered, but he believed her. And he knew without doubt that she wasn't insane. Different, determined, too smart for her own good, but certainly she wasn't mad.

"And what of Lady Muriel? What does she think of all this?"

"She's never liked me. I'm four years older and she has always resented me. For some reason she is jealous, but I haven't the slightest notion why."

Perhaps because you are beautiful and intelligent and dedicated to your beliefs, no matter where they might lead. It was odd. Though he highly disapproved of a gently bred lady involving herself in such an inappropriate subject, in a strange way he found himself admiring her even more than he had before.

"Is there anything else you wish to add?" he asked, making her squirm beneath the intensity of his gaze.

Kathryn shook her head. "No, my lord," she said softly. "I would, however, remind you that should you decide you no longer wish to help me, you have agreed to let me leave. I would hold you to your word."

A picture arose in his mind of Kathryn as he had first seen her, filthy and ragged, hungry and exhausted. He couldn't bear to think of her suffering that way again. Lucien cleared his throat, which felt oddly tight and made it difficult for him to speak.

"You will stay here, as we decided. With these additional marks against you, Dunstan will have a much stronger case, but sooner or later, we shall discover a way to get round him."

"You... you are still going to help me?"

"Aye, Lady Kathryn, that I am."

Her spine seemed to go even straighter. "Do you believe that I am insane? I have to know the truth."

"It doesn't matter what I think. What's important-"

"It matters to me, my lord."

Lucien shook his head. "No, Kathryn. I don't believe you are insane."

Something close to relief washed over her features. She nodded, brushed the dampness from her cheeks. Lucien found himself staring at her mouth and his breathing began to quicken. He noticed the way a strand of her long chestnut hair, loose from its tidy bun, floated down to tickle the soft mounds of flesh above the neckline of her dress. Inside his tight black breeches, his body began to grow hard and Lucien inwardly cursed.

"That is all, Miss Gray," he said matter-of-factly, though he was far from feeling matter-of-fact.