CHAPTER FIVE
“It is . . . magnificent,” Kate murmured in wonder, leaning over the metal railing in the Whispering Gallery of St. Paul’s Cathedral toward the patterned marble floor below. “What does the book say?”
Luce appeared remarkably content for a gentleman who had devoted the past two hours to trailing behind her as she wandered through the beautiful church. He obediently leafed through the small pamphlet he had purchased before beginning the tour.
“Let me see, the fresco paintings within the dome were the work of James Thornhill, and that railing you are currently leaning against was created by Jean Tijou. Below us you will find an epitaph for Wren carved into the floor. It is written in Latin, but it translates to: ‘Beneath lies buried the founder of this church and city, Christopher Wren, who lived more than ninety years not for himself but for the public good. Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you. ’” He lifted his amused gaze to meet her expectant expression. “More?”
“Of course. You cannot properly appreciate such beauty without knowing the history, can you?”
“After eight and twenty years of presuming that it was perfectly possible, it appears I labored under a dire misapprehension. I do thank you for correcting my tasteless lack of sensibility,” he teased with that gentle humor that continued to catch Kate off guard.
Of course, if she were perfectly honest with herself, there were a great number of things about Luce that had caught her off guard since his arrival in London.
Her heart gave an odd squeeze as she recalled his arrival in her chambers that morning. Gads, surely almost any gentleman would have fled in horror when she embarrassed herself by nearly sicking up all over him? Instead, Luce had competently taken charge and even managed to make her feel better when she had been certain she was hovering near death.
And then he had sat beside her and so earnestly attempted to convince her that he did not consider her a mere source of ready wealth. That he believed she was perfectly suited to be his bride and Countess of Calfield. And that he had been as uncertain and anxious as herself . . .
With a considerable effort, Kate thrust the memories aside. No. She had determined when she so reluctantly left her chambers this morning that she would not dwell upon her sudden bout of uncertainty.
Whatever confessions Luce might have offered changed nothing, she assured herself firmly. She had come to London with a purpose and nothing he might say or do would alter her determination.
Feeling his gaze resting upon her expressive countenance, she forced a calm smile to her lips. She was the new, daring Miss Kate Frazer, she reminded herself sternly.
“Wren was obviously a genius,” she murmured.
There was a glint in the blue eyes that warned he suspected at least a portion of her inner unease, but thankfully he did attempt to press her.
“Obviously, and like most geniuses he was also a bit batty. It says here that when this dome was being completed, he had himself hauled up in a basket two or three times a week to ensure all was going to his plan.” He glanced the long distance down to the smooth marble below. “Can you imagine swinging about in a basket when you are seventy-six years of age?”
Her nose wrinkled. “I cannot imagine swinging in a basket at any age.”
He leaned his large frame against the railing, studying her beneath half-lowered lids. “Not even for the sake of such a glorious work of art?”
She glanced about the ornate perfection that glowed like a jewel. A sense of awed peace filled her heart as she breathed deeply of the hushed air.
“You are right. I believe I would have dangled in a basket from sunup to sundown if I could have created something so wonderful,” she admitted with a wistful smile. “How splendid it must be to watch a dream taking form stone by stone, brushstroke by brushstroke.”
“Yes, there is nothing so satisfying as shaping something from nothing.”
She regarded him with a searching gaze, intrigued by his low words.
“You speak of your shipping company?”
He blinked as if startled that she had sensed his deeper meaning.
“Yes, I suppose I do.” He smiled with a boyish charm. “Although a handful of ships can hardly compare to a work of such wonder.”
“I would not think that it is the size or the grandeur of the dream that is important, but the dream itself,” she murmured as her hands skimmed over the smooth railing. She was startled by the odd ache that clutched at her heart. Determinedly, she sucked in a deep breath. “Tell me, how did you ever come to own a shipping company?”
He searched her guarded expression for a moment before offering a faint shrug.
“It was actually more a fluke than choice. Ten years ago, I happened to win a ship in a card game, although it was rather a jest to claim the pile of rotting timbers as anything beyond a ruin. In truth, I had every intention of selling it to the first gullible fool who would give me a quid when I happened to go down to the docks and stepped onto the deck.” His lean features unwittingly softened with a deep sense of pride. “In that moment, I realized that I could do more with my existence than waltz through ballrooms or follow my father’s footsteps into the gambling hells.”
“You enjoy your business?”
His lips twitched at her hint of surprise. “I enjoy the challenge. Even the risk. I hazard the entire future of my company with every cargo I purchase. It is a gamble each and every day.”
The unmistakable glitter of pleasure that warmed his blue eyes summoned that ridiculous ache once again. Her fingers tightened upon the rail as she considered the source of her discomfort.
“I must say that I envy you,” she admitted slowly, her brow unconsciously wrinkled as she sorted through her strange emotions. “I cannot recall ever possessing a dream that I could follow.”
Thankfully, he did not treat her confession with an offhand dismissal. Instead, his expression became somber as he reached out to gently brush a curl that lay against her cheek.
“Surely you must have harbored dreams as a young girl?”
She gave a restless shake of her head. “The usual maidenly dreams, nothing of value.”
He gave a lift of his brow. “Having been born a tedious male, I fear I do not possess the secrets of mysterious maidenly dreams. What do they entail?”
“The typical desire for being beautiful and slaying gentlemen with a single glance. For taking London by storm and being the Toast of the Season.” She grimaced. “For having a charming, handsome gentleman sweep one off to his castle to live in enchanted happiness.”
“That is not such a bad dream, is it, Kate?” he murmured.
Her lips thinned as she considered her childish fantasies. “It is a dream that utterly depends upon another to offer happiness. I have come to realize that such a fate is never possible. I must seek my own fulfillment. My own dreams that can be accomplished by my own efforts.”
She could feel him stiffen at her side. “And you hope to find fulfillment in defying your father, and in dreams while fluttering about London?”
Kate abruptly turned to face him with flashing eyes. She might have known. How could he possibly understand? He had not been constrained his whole life with impossible standards. He had not been smothered and imprisoned until he did not even recognize himself.
He had been free. Free to seek his dreams. Free to follow whatever path he desired.
Free to leave her to standing like a pathetic fool at the altar.
“It grows late,” she retorted in chilled tones. “I must return to the hotel so that I may change for my drive with Lord Thorpe.”
Not surprisingly, his features tightened at her firm command. But rather than offering the scathing lecture that was no doubt trembling upon the tip of his tongue, he instead forced a smile to his lips. At the same moment, his fingers tenderly caressed her cheek.
“Do you know, my sweet Kate, dreams are rather odd,” he murmured in husky tones. “They are not a matter of choice but rather of destiny. You may hide and flee all you wish. In the end, it will be fate that determines your future. And not even you, my stubborn minx, can evade fate. Our fate. Together.”
A shiver raced down her spine at the soft, relentless certainty in his voice.
He sounded as if he had actually seen the future.
Their future.
No. That was ridiculous. No gentleman could see the future. Certainly not her future.
She was thinking mad thoughts.
* * *
He was mad.
Returning to the hotel, Kate had thankfully retreated to her chambers to change into a brilliant yellow riding gown and tailored black pelisse. Unfortunately, her thoughts refused to remain focused upon her upcoming meeting with Lord Thorpe. Or even upon her efforts to arrange her curls into a charming cluster atop her head.
Instead, she discovered herself brooding over and over upon Luce’s parting shot.
Our fate. Together.
Blast it all. She had never claimed to comprehend the muddled workings of the male mind. In fact, she had known for years that men in general were a mystery that appeared to defy logic.
Luce was simply a prime example of his bizarre species.
At least Lord Thorpe made a vague stab at normality, she told herself later, moving down the stairs and into the lobby to join the handsome nobleman as he awaited her beside a large potted plant.
She might not comprehend his mysterious interest in her, but at least he did not tangle her thoughts and twist her stomach into knots.
With a smile, Kate allowed the gentleman to politely lead her from the hotel toward the awaiting carriage. With that same delicate care, he lifted her onto the high-perch phaeton and she covertly studied his masculine body attired in a dove gray coat and pale ivory breeches with glossed Hessians.
Definitely a sight to make any maiden’s heart flutter, she thought with a sigh of pleasure. And the perfect means of soothing her raw nerves.
Taking his own place upon the padded seat, Lord Thorpe gave a nod to his groom, who set the perfectly matched grays into motion. Only as they were rumbling away from the hotel did he turn to offer her his blinding smile.
“How are you feeling today?” he asked gently.
She grimaced, still feeling the lingering malaise clouding her mind. “As if I spent the evening in the ring with Gentleman Jackson.”
“I feared as much.” He reached out to lightly clasp her fingers. “Forgive me, Kate. I would never have ordered the champagne if I had known how quickly it would go to your head.”
Kate allowed her fingers to remain in his grasp. There were none of the explosive tingles that she experienced when Luce touched her, but there was a pleasant warmth that she welcomed at the moment.
“It was not your fault,” she assured him firmly. “I have never had champagne before, and I did not realize how much I was drinking until it was too late. By then, I no longer considered the dangers.”
Perhaps sensing her lingering embarrassment at her night of overindulgence, he gave a low chuckle.
“You were charming.”
“No, I made a fool of myself,” she confessed, even if he was not to know just how foolish she had been. “Thank you for being a gentleman.”
He shifted to face her as the dark eyes slowly roamed her pale features.
“It was not without its cost. You have no notion how long I paced in front of those damnable stairs, battling with the desire to say the hell with nobility and to join you upstairs.”
Hoping he did not presume she was some sort of shallow tease, Kate gave a faint frown. “Forgive me. I did not intend to mislead you in any manner.”
“Do not apologize, my dear.” With a deliciously elegant gesture, he raised her fingers to his lips. “There is no rush to forward our relationship beyond what you desire. I am content to be companion, friend, and diversion. Whatever it is that you need.”
Kate’s smile swiftly returned at his light teasing. This man could no doubt charm the fish from the ocean.
“Is that a promise?”
“Yes,” he said softly.
She raised her brows. “I will hold you to it, you know.”
“I certainly hope so.”
There was a wicked smokiness to his tone, but before Kate could respond, the carriage was slowing to turn into the already crowded park.
By mutual consent, their conversation turned to less intimate subjects, and Kate allowed herself to be entertained by his softly murmured descriptions of the various nobles who had remained in town rather than returning to their various estates. He possessed a wicked sense of humor and startling intelligence that soon had her chuckling at his antics. Slowly the lingering cobwebs in her head faded and she began to feel almost herself as they turned to wind their way back through the park.
At least now she knew what it felt like to be properly cast to the wind.
And wretchedly nursing a sore head.
And she did have the comfort of knowing she had not done anything to actually bring her shame.
No, a renegade voice whispered in the back of her mind, you just begged two men to kiss you.
And made a fool of yourself in front of Luce.
She fiercely thrust aside the distasteful thought. Those depressing notions were a thing of the past. Whether she had a glorious flirtation or not was incidental. There were an endless variety of experiences she had yet to seek and enjoy. And she was not going to waste her time brooding upon one mistake.
Breathing deeply of the astonishingly mild air, Kate settled back in her seat and watched as Lord Thorpe cast a lazy glance over the park. It was a lovely sight. For a maiden who had spent her entire life surrounded by flowers and trees and open fields it was not entirely pleasant to spend her days in cramped neighborhoods and among endless smoke-blackened buildings.
“The park seems rather empty,” Lord Thorpe drawled as he turned back to regard her in an oddly piercing manner.
Kate gave a startled blink. Although there were no doubt far fewer society members in town than during the season proper, there were still a number of well-groomed citizens crowding the lanes.
“It seems quite bustling to me,” she argued with a puzzled smile.
“Ah, but no chaperone.”
“What?”
“Your personal, decidedly interfering guardian.”
Comprehension dawned and she wrinkled her nose in wry amusement. “Oh.”
He lifted a questioning brow at the soft color that suddenly warmed her cheeks. “You did not throttle him and toss his body into the Thames, did you?”
Kate took a moment to fully appreciate the lovely image, and then she gave a regretful shake of her head.
“No, although it is certainly a temptation.”
He gave a laugh but there was a watchful intensity in the dark gaze. “I have already deduced that he is a rather close acquaintance. Is there anything else that I should know?”
Kate struggled to discourage her childish blush.
She was an intelligent, sophisticated, mature woman, she reminded herself. And intelligent, sophisticated, mature women did not blush like schoolgirls who had just experienced their first kiss.
A kiss they did not even recall.
“What do you mean?”
“Is he your lover?” Lord Thorpe came directly to the point.
“No,” she denied, not having to pretend her shocked tones. It was not always a simple matter to recall she was a supposedly experienced widow.
“He is very possessive of you.”
“He considers himself responsible for me.” Kate smiled with a hint of self-mockery. “And if you must know, he has a futile hope that he can wed me for my wealth.”
The dark eyes narrowed. “That might explain his persistence. However, my dear, I do not believe that Lord Calfield has your fortune on his mind when he is looking at you.”
“Lord Calfield always has my fortune on his mind. Or at least when he has not forgotten me utterly. Believe me, I am nothing more than a ready source of income.”
“Then he is a fool,” he murmured.
A fool? Kate gave a slow shake of her head. She had heard Luce called many things by both his friends and enemies.
Charming.
Rakish.
Ruthless.
Obsessed.
But never a fool.
“No, not a fool,” she corrected. “A very dangerous and cunning gentleman.”
There was a brief silence before Lord Thorpe abruptly leaned forward. “Shall I rid you of his presence?”
“Rid me of his presence?” Her eyes widened at the grim edge in his voice. “Good heavens. You sound like a character from a Gothic novel.”
“Nothing so dramatic,” he assured her, but there was no mistaking the sudden power she could sense about him. This was a man who could match Luce in ruthless determination, she recognized with a stab of surprise. Perhaps Luce had sensed that himself. It would certainly explain why he had taken such an illogical dislike toward a complete stranger. “But a few words in the right ears could ensure that his room at the hotel was no longer available and that his presence in London was far from comfortable.”
“You could do that?” she demanded in surprise.
“Yes.”
It was a temptation.
With Luce gone, she could enjoy herself without the ever-present knowledge he was plotting to sweep her back to Kent. And perhaps she could accept the attentions of Lord Thorpe without constantly comparing him to her aggravating ex-fiancé. But even as the thoughts swept through her mind, Kate was heaving a small sigh.
No.
To hide behind Lord Thorpe’s obvious influence was no better than hiding behind her father’s overbearing manner.
She was determined to face the world on her own.
And that included Lord Calfield.
“Knowing Luce, he would simply invade with his fleet of ships,” she said dryly. “No, I think it best to ignore him. Eventually, he will have to seek out another victim. He must repair his fortunes soon.”
Something that might have been disappointment rippled over his handsome face before he gave a nod of his head.
“As you wish. But remember, you can always turn to me if you need my assistance.”
A warmth flowed through Kate at his kindness. She was honest enough to admit she had been initially attracted to him for his dark wicked beauty. A shallow, if typical, response. But she was discovering there was a great deal more to him than that.
“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing that he did not make his promise lightly.
She also knew that if she were in trouble, she would gladly turn to this man.
Bless Lord Thorpe.
* * *
Damn Lord Thorpe.
Against all better sense, Luce had covertly followed Lord Thorpe’s carriage as it drove off with Luce’s own soon-to-be-bride. He was not certain what he intended to do. After all, he could hardly make a scene in the midst of the fashionable park. Not without driving Kate away for certain.
Still, he had known he could not simply await her return to the hotel. Not when she was in the clutches of a practiced rake.
It had been even worse than he dreaded.
His teeth had ground together at the sight of them gazing into each others’ eyes like besotted fools. They were even holding hands despite the fact that they were seated in the midst of the entire ton.
It had taken all of Luce’s considerable willpower not to gallop across the park and snatch Kate from the grasp of the treacherous beast.
Instead, he had turned his restless energy to more productive venues.
Kate desired to fulfill her fantasies? She desired dreams? Well, he would prove that he was more than capable of providing her with all the excitement she could desire.
With that thought grimly in mind, Luce had devoted his afternoon to weaving the perfect fantasy. It had taken hours and a great deal of effort, but in the end he had been thoroughly satisfied.
He had one fantasy, made to order, that would satisfy the most demanding maiden.
In a considerably happier frame of mind, Luce changed into a pair of black breeches and dark claret coat. Brushing his golden hair in casual waves toward his freshly shaved countenance, he deemed himself ready and made his way to Kate’s room.
He knocked on her door. There was a nerve-racking wait before Kate at last appeared, still wearing the lemon riding gown.
His heart skidded to a halt as he greedily drank in the sight of the vast amount of creamy skin exposed by the daring neckline.
He had promised himself he would take matters slowly. Kate was clearly an innocent. A babe among wolves, he acknowledged wryly. He would wait for her to indicate when she was prepared to begin her glorious flirtation.
But while his thoughts could nominate him for sainthood, his body was clearly in the gutter.
After spending the past twenty-four hours plagued with an aching frustration, he did not wish to take matters slowly. He wanted to scoop her in his arms and kiss those sweet lips. He wanted to slowly remove the pins from her hair and watch the satin fire drift about her shoulders.
Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Luce attempted to train his thoughts back to a more pure and noble path.
He was supposed to be fulfilling Kate’s fantasies, not his own. Only then would she give up these foolish fancies and return to Kent as his wife.
“Are you ready?” he at last managed to inquire, his voice thankfully normal.
She lifted a cool brow, clearly not going weak in the knees at his presence.
“Ready for what?”
He swiftly dampened his instant annoyance and the not so small blow to his pride.
Her knees would grow weak soon enough, he assured himself.
But first ... dinner.
“We are to have dinner tonight, do you not recall?”
“I recall you telling me we were having dinner,” she corrected. “I do not recall agreeing.”
“Come now, Kate,” he urged with his most potent smile. “I have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?”
“You did want to try novel and daring things, did you not?”
She hesitated before curiosity at last got the better of her. “Very well, but I must change my gown first.”
“No, you look perfect,” Luce swiftly assured her, shifting uncomfortably.
Gads, he was already bothered by the indecent manner in which the gown was cut to reveal her snowy white shoulders. How the devil could he withstand the torture of lingering in the hall while she changed her gown just beyond the door?
Such a thing would encourage thoughts better left unthought.
Thankfully unaware of his discomfort, she gave a faint shrug. Then, slipping on a heavy satin cape and gloves, she followed him into the hall.
They walked in silence until Luce steered her past the lobby and out to the street, where a carriage awaited them.
“Where are we going?” she demanded as he handed her into the dark depths and swiftly settled beside her.
“First, a short drive,” he informed her firmly, reaching up to rap against the roof of the carriage and send them into motion. Then, with great care, he reached for a blanket folded in the corner and placed it over her lap. “You must tell me if you become cold. We do not have far to go, but I do not wish you to catch a chill.”
He could feel her startled gaze sweep over his profile as he ensured the warmed brick was next to her kidskin boots.
“I am quite comfortable, I thank you,” she murmured. “And you needn’t worry, I am never ill.”
Luce settled back in his seat, readily meeting her searching gaze. He had never been the sort to fuss over another. Hardly surprising, considering he spent most days with hardened sailors who would bust his nose or worse at the least hint of fussing.
It came as a distinct surprise to discover he rather enjoyed treating Kate as if she were a rare and priceless object.
“I wish to worry over you, Kate. It gives me pleasure.”
“Do you worry over me or my dowry?”
His lips twitched at her blunt question. Honesty was supposed to be refreshing, he reminded himself with wry humor. Unfortunately, “refreshing” was not precisely all that it was cracked up to be.
“You are oddly determined to consider me as no more than a fortune hunter, are you not, my dear?”
She gave a lift of her brow. “Do you blame me?”
“Well, I could point out that if all I desired was an easy means to wealth, there are no doubt any number of eager young chits filling the ballrooms I could chose from,” he said with undeniable logic. “Unlike you, most maidens consider becoming a countess a goal worthy of any sacrifice. Even being wed to me.”
In the dark, it was impossible to know if she blushed, but Luce sensed that he had struck a nerve.
“Then why are you here in this carriage with me rather than the ballrooms?” she demanded in sharp-edged tones. “It would obviously be a far more sensible, not to mention more profitable, use of your time.”
Luce shifted so that he was fully facing her delicate profile. “Obviously. And yet here I am. That should prove something to you, Kate.”
“That you do not enjoy having your will thwarted,” she stubbornly insisted. “You decided that I was to be your wife and you refuse to concede defeat.”
Bloody hell. Luce rolled his eyes heavenward. He should have his head examined. Being utterly crazed could be the only excuse for wasting his evening with a maiden so absurdly determined to hate him. A maiden, moreover, who was hurtling hell for leather down a path of ruin.
But crazed or not, he knew that he would have no other wife.
Miss Kate Frazer would be the Countess of Calfield. Regardless of how she might battle him along the way.
“I believe you are still overlooking the pertinent fact, my dear,” he retorted in firm tones.
“And what fact would that be?”
“That I could have brought an end to this foolishness the moment I arrived in London.” He caught and held her wary gaze with a steady determination. “A brief message to your father would have you hauled back to Kent and condemned to your chambers until you are too old and feeble to leave them. I do not doubt that for all your brave words you would be relieved enough to accept my proposal in time, if only to escape your imprisonment.”
Her breath caught, as if she were surprised by his sudden challenge of her bluff. Of course, she could not realize just how much she had revealed during her drunken confessions.
“Then why have you not done so?” she demanded.
He leaned against the leather seat, regarding her with a searching gaze. In the muted light, it was impossible to determine more than the stubborn set to her lovely jaw.
“Because I have come to believe that we can do better than a gentleman in need of a fortune and a maiden who feels compelled to please her father. With a bit of effort, I think that we can at least be friends.”
“Friends?”
He gave a faint shrug. “Why not?”
There was a moment’s pause, as if she were reluctantly considering words.
“You believe that I shall be more amenable to marriage if we are friends?” she at last demanded.
“Certainly that is my hope, and I will not insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise,” he said in dry tones. “However, for the moment I am content to follow your lead and leave the future to unfold in its own time. All I ask is to simply be offered the opportunity to prove that I am not the unfeeling monster you perceive me to be.”
She stiffened in surprise at his low words. “I have never thought you a monster, Luce.”
“No?”
“Of course not. I . . . simply do not trust you.”
“So you have told me.” His gaze narrowed. “But you have not said why you will not offer me the opportunity to prove that you can place your faith in me. Do you fear that I might convince you that we belong together?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Certainly not.”
“Good. Then we shall simply enjoy our time together while you are in London,” he said in firm tones. “Without concern that I am plotting some devious and evil scheme to force you into marriage. A new beginning. Do you agree?”
A silence descended, broken only by the striking of hoofs against the cobbled road. Luce knew that Kate was far too intelligent not to realize he was still fiercely determined to have her as his wife. And yet, he had managed to manipulate her into either agreeing to his offer of friendship or allowing him to presume that she was frightened of being vulnerable to his charm.
An untenable notion for a woman with such pride.
“I will agree to accept your companionship if and when it pleases me,” she at last reluctantly conceded. “But I will not be hounded nor bullied.”
His low chuckle filled the carriage. “I will do my best to curtail my tendencies to hound and bully, which are always unforgivably gauche. Although I do not promise not to charm and bewitch. Two of my most potent weapons, I feel compelled to warn you.”
Thankfully, her tension seemed to fade at his light teasing, and she even turned to offer him a faint smile.
“And whoever was foolish enough to convince you that you possessed even the slightest ability to charm and bewitch?”
“Shall I offer you a list of references, my dear?” he murmured.
“Does it include more than just your mother, my lord?” she quipped.
“Ouch. A noteworthy hit.” He laughed as the carriage slowed to a halt. “Thank heavens we have arrived.”
She turned her head to peer out the window. “Arrived where?”
“You shall soon discover.”
Pushing open the door before the groom could assist, Luce climbed out of the carriage, lowered the steps, and handed Kate onto the narrow walk. Not surprisingly, her brows lifted at the shabby buildings and the distinct aroma of rotting fish.
“The docks? This is your surprise?”
“Not quite.” Pulling her arm through his own, he assisted her down the narrow steps that led toward the shadowed pier. In silence, they carefully traversed the slick wooden platform, halting as he came to the awaiting dinghy that floated upon the dark water. “Is all prepared, Foster?”
“Aye.” A soft glow suddenly revealed the sailor as he lifted the shades from the lamp. “All is in order.”
“Good.” He glanced at his companion. “Shall we, my dear?”
Luce did not even realize that he held his breath until, after a short hesitation, Kate slowly gave a nod of her head, and he wrapped his arms about her to lift her into the boat. Heaving a silent breath of relief that she had not balked as he had half expected, he smoothly vaulted into the boat and settled Kate on the seat beside him. Even then, his sharp glance toward Foster silently urged the captain to set his oars in motion with all speed.
After no more than a low grunt, no doubt intended to reveal the older man’s disapproval at hauling about a dreaded female, they were swiftly skimming over the water toward the silent ship looming in the distance.
Luce ignored the cantankerous Foster and instead turned his attention to the woman who was regarding him with a rather suspicious frown.
“Are you chilled?”
“No, the night is remarkably mild for November.”
“And remarkably beautiful,” he murmured. “We are blessed to be graced with starlight rather than fog.”
His ploy to distract her seemed successful, as she obediently glanced up at the jewel-studded sky.
“It is beautiful.”
“If you desire, I could dazzle you with my knowledge of the constellations.”
“You must think I am easily dazzled,” she said in wry tones.
“No, I think you are a very intelligent, discerning woman.” He slowly smiled. “I do sense, however, that you would like to be dazzled.”
She shrugged. “I just desire to enjoy myself.”
“I can appreciate that.” He tilted his head to one side. “Tell me, why have you never traveled to London before? Most young maidens have at least one season.”
There was a pause before she at last gave a restless shrug. “My father considered it a waste of money.”
“Money is hardly a concern for Sir Frazer,” he prompted, wishing her to reveal the contents of her heart while she was not fuzzy with champagne. He needed to earn her trust if she was ever to willingly become his wife. “And he must have known that with your beauty and considerable dowry, you could have your choice of titled gentlemen.”
“Obviously, he realized there was no need for such a journey when I could just as easily discover a titled gentleman in Kent.”
He grimaced at her ready retort. She was not going to make this easy.
“A gentleman of his choice, as I have come to discover, not your own.”
She offered another shrug. “My father has rarely considered anyone’s desires but his own. Like most gentlemen, he does not believe a woman is capable of knowing her own mind.”
He leaned closer, his expression somber. “It is not entirely fair to presume every gentleman believes such nonsense, Kate. There are any number who not only appreciate the female mind, but consider it a prime asset in a wife.”
“Gentlemen such as you?” she demanded in disbelieving tones.
“Yes. I would certainly hope that the mother of my children would possess the qualities I hope to instill in my heirs.”
“What qualities?”
“Intelligence, courage, and an independent spirit,” he promptly listed. “Only a fool would believe a weak, clinging wife could produce such offspring.”
He seemed to catch her off guard, and for a moment she searched his features in the silvery moonlight.
“But surely you must have considered me weak and clinging when you first met me?”
Luce carefully considered his words. Any hint of attempting to deceive her would ensure she never believed another word he offered.
“I thought you reserved and somewhat uncomfortable in my presence, but to be honest, I presumed your father was responsible for your demure manner. He is overpowering in even the smallest doses.” He allowed a shudder to race through his body. “That did not, however, prevent me from noting your well-educated conversation and the ability to confront a near stranger as your fiancé without giggling or fainting or giving in to hysterics. That reveals more courage than if you had confronted me with sword in hand.” A wry smile suddenly curved his lips. “And of course, during the past few days, I have been charmingly convinced of your independent spirit.”
“Hardly charmingly, I would think.”
He gave a soft chuckle. “Well, at least unmistakably.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“It is an independence I greatly admire, considering you were raised by a father who does not seem to appreciate women of spirit,” he said firmly. “I know from experience how difficult it can be to oppose a parent’s desire to mold you into something that you are not.”
She regarded him with disbelief, not seeming to notice the steady pull of oars was slowing as they neared the looming ship.
“You?”
“Yes, me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” she retorted with a shake of her head.
“Why?”
“To begin with, you are male. Sons, especially heirs, are always considered perfect no matter how flawed they might be.”
“Wrong,” he informed her, reaching out to tweak one of the burnished curls that had escaped her bonnet. “My father never bothered to hide his frustration that I was not destined to become the polished rake and gambler he thought it necessary for a nobleman to be. It did not help matters that I readily challenged his determination to toss away his entire fortune upon the card tables. In fact, he commanded me to leave the estate when I turned eighteen.”
He thought he heard her breath catch. “I . . . forgive me, Luce. I did not know.”
Very few people did know.
Luce rarely spoke of those black days when he and his father had waged endless battles. Nor did he speak of the manner in which his mother had taken to her bed, leaving him to face the burden of their mounting debts. Of the nights he had walked the floor wondering what he could do to prevent disaster. Not even of his relief when his father had tossed him out the door so that he no longer was forced to watch the inevitable ruin.
He far preferred others to believe him arrogant and imperious rather than reveal the uncertain lad who had fought to survive because he simply was too frightened to give up.
Tonight, however, it felt somehow right to share his past with this woman.
“I was fortunate to possess a small allowance from my grandmother that kept me afloat and eventually helped me to establish my business.” He breathed in deeply of the salt-scented air. “In truth, I was perhaps the most content I had ever been. For the first time I was in utter control of my life with no concerns beyond keeping my ships afloat. And then ...”
“Your father died and you became Earl of Calfield,” she finished softly, surprisingly reaching out to lightly touch his arm.
A poignant warmth flowed through his blood. It was the first occasion she had sought to touch him of her own will.
“Yes.”
“It must have been difficult to accept a title you did not desire,” she murmured with startling perception.
He grimaced. “I will admit that I considered taking one of my ships and sailing so far away that no one could ever find me again.” He paused as he searched her beautiful features bathed in silver light. “Now I am very happy I did nothing so foolish.”
“I cannot imagine why,” she muttered. “It sounds delightful to me.”
“But if I were hiding among the savage natives, I would not be here with you.” He stroked the softness of her cheek. “And at this moment, there is nowhere else on earth I would rather be.”
“Luce ...”
“Ah, we are here.” Waiting for Foster to maneuver them next to the ship, he offered his companion a small smile. “I hope you are prepared for your surprise?”