CHAPTER ELEVEN
As ill luck would have it, Kate did not leave London the next morning. Before she had even managed to enjoy her breakfast, she received a brief note from Lord Thorpe revealing that unexpected business had forced him to remain in town for several more days and apologizing for the delay.
Disappointed but resigned, Kate had been forced to consider her options. Her first instinct, of course, had been to remain safely hidden within her chambers until Lord Thorpe could take her away from London. The mere thought of accidentally crossing paths with Luce was enough to make her feel ill.
She had hurt him. Oh, no doubt it was only his pride, but it was enough to make him regard her with a fiery dislike that she could not bear.
Thankfully, common sense had come to her rescue. She had only a few days left in London. And goodness only knew if she would ever be allowed to return.
She would not be confined to her chambers. Not by Lord Calfield or anyone else.
Her determination, or perhaps stubborn stupidity, lingered for the next several days, prompting her to an endless round of sightseeing, lectures, and intellectual salons. The hectic pace, however, did not prevent her from incessantly glancing over her shoulder as if she feared the golden-haired pirate might suddenly appear. Nor did it keep her long nights from being haunted by dreams of his tender kindness.
She had presumed that the passing days would ease the strange ache that clenched at her heart. Or at least dim the remembrance of their days together.
Instead, it seemed that his lingering presence was everywhere. It was in the garden when she desired a breath of fresh air. It was at the theater where he had followed her to disrupt her evening with Lord Thorpe. And most of all, it was in her chambers, where he had so tenderly cared for her after her night of overindulgence.
It was little wonder she was so anxious to leave London and travel to Devonshire where she could at last put Lord Calfield firmly from her mind.
Well, perhaps he would not be gone from her mind, she ruefully conceded, but at least she would halt glancing over her shoulder and peeking about corners as if she were batty.
Returning to the hotel after yet another exhausting day, Kate discovered herself breathing a sigh of relief when a maid scurried to her side to reveal that a gentleman was awaiting her in the back parlor.
Lord Thorpe, at last.
Not even bothering to visit her chambers to remove her cape and bonnet, Kate hurried toward the back of the hotel, which sported a small but nicely private parlor. She could only hope that Lord Thorpe had not come to reveal he would be unable to escort her to Devonshire. Whatever her lack of enthusiasm for staying at a palatial ducal mansion with utter strangers, the option was certainly preferable to remaining in London with the constant danger of encountering Luce.
Pressing open the door, Kate stepped into the room with a forced smile of greeting.
“At last, my lord, I feared you had . . .” Her light words came to a startled halt as she regarded the short, solidly-built gentleman with a shock of gray hair and a countenance that appeared to have been carved from granite. This was most certainly not the elegant Lord Thorpe. Indeed, he appeared more a ruffian than a gentleman. “Oh. Forgive me. There must have been some mistake.”
About to back from the room, Kate was halted when the man took an abrupt step forward, holding up a gnarled hand.
“Please, Miss Frazer, I would ask for just a moment of your time.”
The sound of her name stopped her retreat and Kate regarded the craggy features more closely. There was something vaguely familiar about him . . .
It took a long moment before she abruptly recalled where she had seen the man before.
“You work for Lord Calfield,” she muttered.
“Aye. My name is Foster.”
With jerky movements, Kate untied her bonnet and removed it from her curls. She needed an opportunity to gain command of her thundering heart.
“I suppose he sent you here?” she at last demanded.
“Bloody he . . . I mean, good God, no.” The sailor gave an embarrassed cough before continuing. “He would gut me like a fish if he even suspected I was here.”
The sharp twinge she felt in the region of her heart was not disappointment, she sternly reassured herself. The last thing she desired was interference from Luce.
Still, she discovered herself sinking into the nearest chair, almost as if her knees had suddenly gone weak.
“If you are not here for Lord Calfield, then what brings you to the hotel?”
The man absently rumpled his gray hair, as if he were uncertain himself why he had come.
“Mayhap I should first warn you that Luce is more than just an employer to me,” he muttered in abrupt tones that revealed he was not at all comfortable in the presence of a woman. Or perhaps it was simply her presence. “Five years ago he found me in the stews drinking my way through most of the gin in London. He had heard I once sailed at the side of Nelson, and despite all rumors that I had gone to rubble after leaving the navy, he believed I possessed the skills to be his captain.” There was a short silence before the man roughly cleared his throat. “He saved my life on that day. I should no doubt be lying in the gutter, if not in my grave, if he had not given me a reason to pull myself out of the pub.”
Despite herself, Kate discovered her heart warming at Luce’s kindness. She could just imagine him bullying the poor drunken sailor into taking command of his ship. Whatever his faults, he did not consider himself above others, and was obviously loyal to those who had earned his trust.
Trust.
She suppressed a heavy sigh. Trust seemed to be the one thing she lacked in abundance.
“Obviously you are quite attached to Lu . . . Lord Calfield,” she murmured.
“I would gladly take a bullet for him,” Foster retorted with a grimace. “Hell’s teeth, I’d as soon take a bullet as be here.”
She blinked at the odd words. “I fear I do not understand.”
He folded his arms across his barrel chest, his eyes narrowing as he regarded her puzzled expression.
“I warned him about you, Miss Frazer. I knew the moment he began chasing after you and behaving the fool that he was headed for trouble. But like any man bewitched by a female, he refused to listen to reason.”
“Bewitched?” Kate pressed a hand to her suddenly unstable heart. “You are mistaken, Mr. Foster. Lord Calfield was never bewitched, merely in desperate need of funds.”
The older man’s expression hardened with obvious anger. “If that were true, he would not have trailed behind you like a well-heeled hound, Miss. Nor would he have neglected his business and family simply to please you.” His lips thinned until they nearly disappeared. “You are not the only rich maiden in England, Miss Frazer. Had his wits not been so clouded with the need to make you his wife, he would already be happily wed to another.”
Abruptly rising to her feet, Kate regarded the intruder with flashing eyes. How dare he? Why, he implied that she had deliberately toyed with Luce’s emotions merely for her own pleasure. And that it was somehow her fault he was too stubborn to choose a maiden more willing.
“I assure you that I never attempted to deceive Lord Calfield,” she gritted. “I made it quite clear from the moment he arrived in London that I no longer desired to be his wife. Indeed, I did everything possible to convince him to seek another.”
Foster offered a disgusted snort at her clipped words. “All the while you flirted and teased and readily allowed yourself to be in his company. Do not forget, I witnessed the two of you together. It did not seem you were anxious to be rid of him.”
Ridiculously, a warm blush filled her cheeks. “Certainly he is a charming companion, and annoyingly persistent. What would you have me do? Give him the cut direct?”
“Yes. A swift stroke would have been kinder in the end.”
Blast it all. Why should she feel guilty? She had not left him humiliated at the altar. She had not followed and plagued him about London. She had not pretended to care for him when all she desired was his wealth.
“Whatever you may believe, I have not attempted to halt Lord Calfield from finding the dowry he so desperately needs. Indeed, I have not even spoken with him for the past week,” she said stiffly. “I do not doubt he is already sweeping his way through the ballrooms of London and breaking dozens of hearts.”
Foster took a step forward, his expression tight with suspicion. For a moment, Kate feared that he might have sensed the jealousy that ripped through her heart at the mere thought of Luce charming another. Then he gave a slow shake of his head.
“You do not know?”
“Know? Know what?”
“Luce has left London. He returned to Kent days ago.”
Kate caught her breath in shock. Gads, the revelation should have brought a sense of glorious relief. She could leave her chambers without the constant dread of meeting him in the corridor. She could sleep easily at night and enjoy her days of independence.
Ah yes, she should be delighted.
Instead, a deep, icy sense of loss abruptly settled into her very bones.
“But . . .” She gave a slow shake of her head, wondering how she had not known. How she had not sensed his absence. “Surely he should have remained in London if he desires a bride?”
His scowl only became more pronounced. “He has put off all thoughts of marriage. Hardly surprising after having his heart stomped upon.”
Kate ignored his ridiculous accusation that she could ever reach Luce’s distant heart.
“I thought it was imperative that he wed. What of his father’s debts?”
“They remain, although he has managed to put off the most pressing of his creditors by offering his shipping company for sale. He hopes the profits will gain him time to find another means of rescuing his family.”
He was selling his shipping company?
Kate abruptly fell back into her seat. Dear Lord. Why? Those ships were everything to him. Not only financially, but as tangible proof that he could forge his own path despite his father’s condemnation.
“This is absurd,” she muttered. “There are any number of maidens who would be delighted to trade their dowry for the title Countess.”
Foster gave a growl that might have indicated disgust. “So I told him, any number of times. I even made him a list of eligible possibilities. But would he listen to me? Fah. He had it in his head that you were to be his bride and no other would do. Now, see what has happened.”
Kate gave a slow shake of her head. It was all so vastly confusing. Not only Luce’s abrupt return to Kent, but his selling the business he treasured.
Why had he not sought out a more willing maiden? Or even continued his pursuit of her?
It was not at all the behavior of a gentleman who was only interested in a convenient means of acquiring a fortune.
She pressed her fingers to her throbbing temples as the older man glared at her with a steady anger.
“What do you want from me?”
Foster jutted his chin to a stubborn angle. “I want you to talk with him. To convince him once and for all that you are never going to be his wife. Mayhap then he will come to his senses and seek another before he has lost everything.”
“I . . .”
Her words faltered quite simply because she did not know what to say. Her thoughts were too tangled. And her heart . . .
Damn it all. Her heart felt as if it were being ripped from her chest as she thought of Luce proudly turning his back on London and sacrificing everything he possessed because he could not bear to think of another woman as his countess.
“Well?” the sailor prompted in gruff tones.
Not even realizing she had made a decision, Kate slowly lifted her head, a single tear tracing its way down her cheek.
“I will go to Kent.”
Foster heaved a deep sigh. “Thank God.”
* * *
“Thank God.” Pressing a fluttering hand to her heart, the current Countess of Calfield pounced upon Luce the moment he entered the door. “I have been awaiting you for hours. Why are you never here when I need you?”
Biting back a caustic comment, Luce forced himself to ease his raw nerves. He had known when he returned to Kent without the fortune he needed that it would be difficult. Especially for his mother, who had always refused to face the truth of their financial ruin. It was far easier to pretend that all was well than to actually have to make the sacrifices that were so obviously necessary.
“Someone had to speak with the grocer. He insisted upon payment before he would continue our credit,” he said with admirable calm. “What do you need?”
Lady Calfield waved a dismissive hand, as if having food upon the table were of little importance. “Thomas came to me this morning and said that a gentleman had arrived to view the stables.”
Luce smiled with grim amusement. He should have known that his mother’s loyal servants would be tattling behind his back. They would have to suspect that his efforts of economy would soon affect their own positions.
“Yes, it is a Mr. Marrow. He is interested in making an offer on father’s hunters as well as the carriages.”
“Luce.” Horrified shock touched the aging countenance, marring the fading beauty. “You cannot mean to sell the carriages?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, steeling his courage. Too long he had dodged the painful choices that had to be made. He could not waver now.
“They will go along with the grooms and trainers. We will keep two horses and the small cart.”
“Cart? You expect your sisters to travel about in a cart? They will be humiliated.”
Luce lifted a shoulder. “They can walk if they prefer.”
“Dear heavens. How can you be so heartless? Your father . . .”
“My father is the reason we are currently in this mess, Mother,” he interrupted in firm tones. He was in no humor to hear of the glorious generosity of his father, who had fribbled away near sixty thousand pounds. “And I fear this is only the beginning. I intend to review the servants this evening and request that those who are not essential to the running of the household search for another position.”
A petulant anger flashed in Lady Calfield’s blue eyes. “None of this would have been necessary if you had done your duty and wed Miss Frazer as you were supposed to. Now we all must suffer for your selfishness.”
Luce flinched as if he had been slapped. It was not guilt. At least not guilt for having allowed Kate to slip from his fingers. Over the past few days, he had come to realize that wedding Kate would have been a ghastly mistake. No matter what his feelings for her, the knowledge that he had been in need of her wealth would have always lain between them.
How could she ever truly place her trust in him? Or ever give him her heart?
She deserved better. She deserved the happiness that had been missing from her life for too long.
His noble determination, however, did not make him miss her any less, or ease the sense of loneliness that plagued him with ruthless intensity.
“Perhaps it is selfish, mother, but I refuse to become a damnable leech upon Sir Frazer simply because you desire your carriages and French maid.” He squared his shoulders, a fierce pride etched upon his countenance. “For once, an Earl of Calfield will pay his own debts, not sell his soul to take the easy path.”
Not surprisingly, his mother was far from impressed by his lofty morals. She was a creature of comfort and luxury. The mere thought of maintaining a bit of economy was enough to make her break out in a rash.
“And what of me and your sisters? Will you see us dressed in rags and tending the fields like common peasants?”
His lips reluctantly twitched at the shrill accusation. “Not unless you possess a particular desire to plow fields. Of course, if you have a hankering to be of assistance, there are several cottages in need of new thatching.”
Lady Calfield stomped her foot in fury. “This is not amusing, Luce. And I warn you, I will not tolerate living like a beggar. If need be, I will take the girls to my sister’s in Surrey. I will not have them a source of pity throughout the neighborhood.”
“As you will.” Luce thrust a weary hand through his golden hair. He had devoted twenty hours a day to just keeping the wolves at bay. He did not possess the strength to battle his mother as well. “I will not pretend that things are not bad, mother. Nor that they will soon improve. All I can promise is that I will do everything in my power to ensure the future is better.”
“Everything but wed a maiden who could easily restore our fortunes to what they should be,” she said with a disdainful sniff.
“Everything but that.”
She glared at him for a long moment before turning to flounce up the stairs. “Then stay here and watch your father’s estate crumble to dust,” she charged over her shoulder. “And know that your pride has no doubt ruined any hope for your sisters’ future.”
With a deep sigh, Luce turned to leave the house. There was still Mr. Morrow to deal with in the stables, and several tenants awaiting the opportunity to air their grievances. It would be another long day, not improved by the realization that he would have to confront servants who had devoted their entire lives to the Calfield family and request that they pack their bags and leave.
It was enough to make a gentleman consider boarding the nearest ship and never looking back, he acknowledged. Then an unwittingly grim smile touched his lips. Unfortunately for him, he no longer possessed any ships.
Refusing to dwell upon his dark thoughts, Luce crossed the yard toward the nearby stables. It was enough to concentrate upon the troubles at hand without borrowing regrets from the past.
At least if Mr. Morrow was willing to purchase the contents of the stable, they would have enough blunt to stave off the most pressing creditors. Hopefully, by then he would have an offer for his business that would keep them afloat until harvest. A small miracle in itself.
Rounding the crumbling fountain in the center of the yard, Luce was just passing the main gate when the sound of approaching footsteps stopped him. Since the estate was set off from the main path by a long, oak-lined drive, he knew whoever was approaching must be a visitor to Calfield Park. Or, more likely, another creditor, he ruefully acknowledged.
His first impulse was to hurry on to the stables and ignore whatever new disaster might loom on the horizon. His current temper was not best suited to pandering to the shrill demands and threats of yet another merchant. Then he gave a resigned shake of his head.
He was not his father. He would not dodge and evade his responsibilities and pretend that tomorrow would take care of itself.
At least not any longer.
Squaring his shoulders, he moved firmly toward the gate, reaching it at nearly the precise moment as the approaching guest. His eyes abruptly widened. Bloody hell, this was not the burly merchant he had expected. Instead the visitor was slender and young and utterly female.
The determined smile that he had pasted to his lips faltered at the same moment as his heart.
Kate . . .
Unwittingly, he reached out his hand to grasp the rough stone of the gate. His knees did not feel at all steady and his thoughts were clouded with disbelieving surprise. In truth, he felt as if he had just been hit on the head with a spade.
A large spade.
Slowly, his gaze traveled over her stiff form, noting the return of her prim blue gown and sensible wool cape. Even the beautiful titian curls had been ruthlessly hidden beneath a bonnet that was more suited to an aging matron than a lovely young maiden.
The daring, exotic creature of London had been returned to the sensible, shy spinster he recalled from their first meeting.
A pang that might have been regret clutched at his heart before he sternly grasped control of his scattered senses. Damn it all, this woman had dangled him, tortured him, and crushed his heart.
He was not about to allow her to continue with her painful games.
“Miss Frazer,” he said in cold tones. “What a very unexpected surprise.”
Her breath seemed to catch at the chill in the air, which had little to do with the stiff northerly breeze.
“Good day, my lord. I hope I do not intrude?”
His jaw tightened at her determined politeness. Did she expect him to treat her as if they were no more than distant acquaintances? Well, he was not near gentlemanly enough for that.
“What are you doing here?”
She paused, as if caught off guard by his clipped question. “I was passing by and I thought . . .”
“No,” he intruded, his throat oddly raw as his gaze hungrily roamed over the pale features and eyes that appeared a misty blue. Gads, he had not realized just how much it would hurt to see her again. “It is impossible to simply pass by Calfield Park. You must have a reason for coming here.”
A sharp silence descended before Kate gave a nervous cough. “I . . . I seem to have caught you at a bad moment. Forgive me.”
Luce knew he was behaving the boor. But it seemed impossible to conjure a measure of graciousness. Not when her mere presence was twisting his insides into mush.
“I thought you were traveling to Devonshire.” He abruptly broke the silence.
“I decided it was best to return to Kent.”
“I must admit that I am rather surprised.” He could not entirely keep an edge of bitterness from his voice. “I thought you were quite anxious to be swept off your feet by your devoted duke-in-waiting. Did he abandon you, or did you decide a stuffy ducal palace did not fit in with your notion of a frivolous adventure?”
Kate stiffened at his sudden thrust. “Neither.”
“Then why would you be here? You made it clear you would rather be hauled to the gallows than to return.”
Her tongue reached out to wet her lips in a nervous fashion. Luce shivered as his gaze lingered upon the tempting shimmer. He remembered the precise taste of that sweet mouth.
“I had a visit from Mr. Foster.”
Luce froze in icy shock. “Foster?”
“Yes ... he was concerned and requested that I return to Kent to speak with you.”
He flinched in dismay. Blast his interfering, busybody captain. How dare he interfere? This entire situation was difficult enough without knowing Kate was close at hand to see his pathetic struggles.
“Foster is worse than any mother hen, I fear,” he retorted in stiff tones. “If he disturbed you, I apologize.”
“He did not disturb me.” She searched his guarded expression, as if attempting to determine his inner thoughts. “At least his visit did not disturb me. It was his revelations that I discovered troubling. Is it true you are selling your shipping company?”
Luce gritted his teeth until tight knots formed in his jaws. At this moment, he would have happily ordered Foster to walk the plank.
The last thing in the world he desired was this woman’s damnable pity. “That is surely no one’s concern but my own, Miss Frazer.”
She bit her lip at his obvious dismissal. “Perhaps. That does not halt me, however, from being concerned. I know how much those ships mean to you.”
A flare of fury raced through him. Of course the company had meant a great deal to him. It had given him a purpose in life that had been sorely missing. But the loss of his company was nothing in comparison with the aching loss of this woman.
A loss that she had not even acknowledged, dash it all.
“Actually, you seem to know very little, Miss Frazer. Not about me or my company.”
“Luce . . .”
Drawing in a deep breath, he forced a bored expression to his countenance. He would not endure her sympathy. Anything but that.
“I fear that you have come at a rather inconvenient time, Miss Frazer,” he said in brisk tones. “I think it best if you return home and allow me to continue with my duties.”
“I see.” Her eyes seemed to darken, almost as if he had managed to wound her with his dismissal. “I offer my apologies. I did not intend to disrupt your day.”
She had disrupted more than his day, Luce grimly acknowledged. She had disrupted the smallest progress he had made to dismissing her from his thoughts and convincing himself that his life was much better without her.
“On the next occasion perhaps it would be best if you would send word before arriving,” he forced himself to say in cool tones. “The household is not currently capable of entertaining unexpected guests.”
The blood drained from her countenance, leaving her nearly ashen. His heart squeezed with a ravaging pain.
“Of course.” Swallowing heavily, she gave a jerky nod of her head. “Do not fear, my lord, I will not intrude again.”
She turned upon her heel to leave and before he could even think to halt his impulsive movement, Luce had shifted to block her path. Suddenly, he had to know what had happened to her glorious adventures and, perhaps more importantly, Lord Thorpe.
“Is the devoted Lord Thorpe still trailing behind you, or have you sent him upon his way as well?” he demanded without warning.
For a moment, he thought she might refuse to answer, then her chin tilted so that she could stab him with an angry glare.
“Lord Thorpe is still in London,” she said with as much dignity as possible.
“Poor idiot. I really should have warned him of your tendency to dangle susceptible gentlemen upon your hook before tossing them back to sea.”
She flinched at the ugly accusation. “That is utterly unfair, my lord.”
His lips twisted. “Is it?”
“Yes.” She looked as if she were battling the urge to slap him. “I was honest from the beginning of our relationship. I never wished to hurt or deceive you. I was not the one who insisted that you remain in London, nor that you continue to pursue me. Indeed, I suggested on more than one occasion that you seek out another to wed.”
Luce caught his breath at the accusation, knowing that there was no reasonable means of denying her words. She had not deliberately toyed with his emotions. Nor had she ever suggested that she would wish him as a husband.
Still, she had managed to rip out his heart. Surely that deserved some sort of punishment?
“At the same time you were quite willing to take advantage of my presence when you found it convenient, were you not, my sweet?”
“I did not come here to argue with you, Luce.” She deliberately glanced toward the lane he was blocking. “Will you excuse me?”
He offered a mocking bow as he stepped to the side. “Please do not let me keep you.” He waited until she was right beside him before he leaned to whisper directly in her ear. “Did you find it, Kate?”
She faltered at his soft question. “Find what?”
“Whatever it was that you were searching for.”
She could not disguise the utter despair that darkened her eyes to pools of haunted green. “No. No, I did not.”
Clutching her skirts, she fled down the path, unaware of the shock that held him motionless as he watched her retreat.
Dear God. She had looked almost . . . heartbroken.