In the Prince’s Bed by Sabrina Jeffries (11)

Chapter Eighteen

It was happening all over again. How many times had Katherine sat with Mama, waiting for Papa to show up to take them to an assembly in town as he’d promised, only to have him stagger in with his cravat askew, reeking of ale?

How many times had she listened to his lies that he’d been delayed by a broken carriage axle or a lamed horse, watching Mama’s temper rise until it erupted into shouts? All the while her own anger simmered deep inside where she always thrust it, because somebody in the family had to keep a clear head.

Tonight, however, she was the one ready to erupt while Mama sat and watched warily, having long ago fallen into an uncharacteristic silence.

Katherine refused to endure this any longer. Gathering up her reticule, she rose and headed for the parlor door.

“Katherine Merivale, where do you think you’re going?” Mama asked.

“Upstairs.” Katherine gestured to the clock. “He’s an hour and a half late. You might as well accept that he’s not coming. And since we have no carriage and we turned down the one Lady Purefoy offered to send for us, we have no way of going by ourselves. Thomas will never find a hackney at this hour, not with all the parties going on.”

She gathered in a steadying breath, fighting not to show her anger. “So I’m going upstairs to change clothes and read. At least it will keep my mind off…everything.”

“Now, Katherine, perhaps he was held up on his estate—”

“You said you didn’t believe he’d gone to his estate.” Her mother’s troubled frown only heightened Katherine’s temper. “Even if he did, and even if he found upon his arrival that he wouldn’t be able to get back for the party, he’s had plenty of time to send us a message from Suffolk. The mails are quick these days.”

“He might have had an accident on the roads, you know. It does happen. And there are highwaymen, too.”

That brought her up short. Oh, God, what if something horrible had happened to him? The idea of Alec lying in some ditch—

No, she couldn’t believe it. Alec, of all people, would keep his team and carriage in perfect shape and hire the best coachman. And any highwayman confronting a man who could slice a pear in half at a dead gallop would surely find himself bested.

His evasions concerning the Stephens Hotel told her Alec was deceiving her about something, and his absence was part of it. She just knew it.

“I seriously doubt his lordship has had an accident. He is simply exercising his right to behave like a cad, now that I’ve agreed—” She broke off, hoping Mama hadn’t caught her slip.

But her mother could be very clever when it came to certain matters. “Now that you’ve agreed to what, Katherine?”

Katherine sighed. “To his proposal of marriage. That night at Astley’s, he asked me to marry him, and I agreed.”

Mama’s face lit up. “My dear girl, that’s wonderful!” She pressed her hands to her heart. “My daughter, the countess…oh, I knew it would happen, I knew it! The way his lordship looks at you, and his kind courtesies—”

“Like not showing up to take me to a party when he promised?”

“Pshaw, these things happen.” Mama waved her hand dismissively. “You’ll see what I mean when you’re married.”

Which was precisely what worried Katherine.

Her mother frowned. “But why didn’t you tell me this before? And why didn’t he speak to me about it?”

“He wanted to, but I…um…asked him to wait until I could tell Sydney.”

“What?” Mama leaped to her feet and began to pace, gesticulating wildly. “For a clever girl, you are sometimes exceedingly foolish. When a man proposes marriage, a girl in your position does not keep him dangling on a string. It would be one thing if men were clamoring for introductions, but they aren’t. Even Sir Sydney Lovelace has dropped you. And you put off the earl? Are you mad? It’s no wonder the man has abandoned you.”

“I hardly think—”

“Exactly—you don’t think at all! You’ve been so cool to him that Lord Iversley probably thought you meant to toy with his affections. Then you told him we weren’t invited to Lady Holland’s. Now he has second thoughts, no doubt, which is why he’s dallying at his estate or…wherever.”

“If you’re right, then we’re well rid of him.” Kathleen swallowed down the tears threatening to well up. “I don’t want to marry a man who’d be scared off by our low connections or by my wanting to do right by a friend.”

But if he was the sort of man she’d come to believe he was, he would be here. Or at the very least, would have sent a message. Instead of taking for granted that she would wait on his whim. Instead of hiding things from her and pretending to be other than he really was—whatever that happened to be.

She squared her shoulders. “I’m going upstairs, Mama. Come fetch me if he should happen to appear.” Then she would give him a piece of her mind, and this time, no amount of kissing would distract her.

She’d actually let him persuade her that all his evasions were reasonable. That he’d kept his unorthodox past hidden for a legitimate reason, even though there’d been holes the size of caverns in his stories. But the past two days had given her plenty of time to ponder them.

Why had one childhood incident estranged him from his father? Why had his father allowed his only heir to work for a living in a country wracked by war, instead of coming home to do his duty? That was a rather profound estrangement, it seemed to her—Alec must have done something truly awful to warrant it.

And what did the uncle have to do with anything? Surely as Alec’s guardian he would not have approved of Alec’s work with the cavalry. She would question Alec’s entire tale, except that she’d seen him ride and perform cavalry maneuvers. One didn’t learn that sort of thing overnight. But he was keeping something from her; she was sure of it. Aside from his mysterious evasions about the Stephens Hotel.

Entering her room, she tossed her reticule on the bed, and as she passed the mirror she caught sight of her reflection and the damascene brooch she’d worn especially for Alec.

A lump settled in her throat. What if he’d lied about the pin and had bought it for a woman other than his mother? That might explain his determination not to return to England—some Portuguese beauty might have captured his heart.

He might even have left his uncle’s house to be with her. That would explain why he’d had to make money. Though he was conscious enough of his obligations not to marry such a woman, he could make her his mistress…and keep her at a place like the Stephens Hotel, while he looked for an acceptable English wife to bear his heir.

Katherine groaned. Yes, that would be more in keeping with the Alec she’d come to know. She couldn’t see him cavorting with some doxy as Papa had, but Alec in love with an unacceptable woman…that fit his character.

And was much more painful to contemplate. Alec loving another woman while he’d kissed and caressed Katherine…the very thought made her ill.

She rubbed her aching temples. This was ridiculous—she was letting her imagination run away with her. He would hardly have given Katherine a pin he’d bought for a Portuguese mistress he was still seeing. Besides, if he were leading such a duplicitous life, wouldn’t it behoove him to try even harder to allay Katherine’s suspicions, instead of not showing up when he was supposed to?

He’d probably just been delayed at his estate. But the fact remained that whatever the reason for his absence, it was tying her into knots, which was precisely what she’d wanted to avoid by marrying Sydney. Did she really want a lifetime of emotional tumult with Alec?

Then again, what choice did she have? Sydney had disappeared and might never be coming back. And could she even find another husband to suit her?

She dropped onto her bed, then felt something dig into her bottom. The Rake’s Rhetorick. She’d been reading it earlier, during a bout of worry about the Stephens Hotel.

Tugging it out, she opened it to the chapter entitled “The Married Rakehell.” She couldn’t bring herself to read it before, but now one sentence leaped out at her: “If a rake knows he must eventually marry to fulfill his duty, he should hide his pursuit of pleasure from the world. The more discreet the rake, the better his chances of continuing his activities after his nuptials.”

A shudder wracked her. Was Alec trying to be discreet? Lulling her into believing he would be faithful? But then, why choose to court her? Why not fix on a less suspicious sort of female?

The sound of a carriage halting in front brought her to her feet. He was here after all! He would explain everything, and it would be all right. If she could believe his explanations.

Grabbing her reticule, she hurried out so quickly that she was halfway down the stairs before she realized she still held The Rake’s Rhetorick. As she debated whether to return it to her room, a man appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

Sydney.

She froze. He must have received her note. But why come now? Cramming the chapbook into her reticule, she went warily down to meet him.

“When you didn’t show up, Lady Purefoy asked me to fetch you and your mother,” he said in a low voice as she approached. “I readily agreed, hoping I could speak with you. If you’ll allow it.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Didn’t you get my note?”

He frowned. “What note?”

“I sent a message to Lord Napier’s estate, asking you to come here. When I paid your mother a visit, she told me that’s where you’d gone.”

He flushed a deep scarlet, then glanced away. “Yes, I needed to think. And Ju—…Napier…said I could do so at his house.” His gaze swung back to her, dark and troubled. “But I left yesterday and returned to London. Mother didn’t mention your visit, and Napier…well…I left after we argued, so I suppose he was too petty to send your note on.”

Mama burst into the hall. “I thought I heard—” She stopped short, confusion flooding her face. “Oh, hello, Sir Sydney. What are you doing here?”

Sydney gave his usual gentlemanly bow. “I’ve come to take you to Lady Purefoy’s party. Apparently there was a misunderstanding. She said you’d told her not to send a carriage.”

“We did,” Katherine said tightly. “Lord Iversley promised to take us, but he’s not here.”

“He was detained at his estate,” Mama said hastily. “I’m sure he’ll be here any moment, however.”

Katherine squared her shoulders, then descended the last few steps. “I’m not waiting to find out. Neither should you, Mama. If Lady Purefoy was kind enough to send someone for us, the least we can do is go.”

In the end, Mama couldn’t stand the possibility of missing her friend’s birthday party, so she allowed Sydney to take them off.

Katherine hardly knew what to think of Sydney’s strange behavior toward her on the way there. He shot her earnest glances, toyed nervously with his cravat, and in general seemed very disturbed. What did he want to talk to her about? Why had he quarreled with Lord Napier? Could he be reconsidering his rude behavior toward her of late?

And how on earth would she break the news to him about her engagement to Alec? Or should she even do so, when she was so uncertain of Alec herself?

By the time they disembarked at Lady Purefoy’s, Katherine was so agitated that she didn’t know whether to be relieved or alarmed when Lady Purefoy commandeered her mother after they entered, leaving her alone with Sydney.

A waltz was struck, and Sydney held out his hand. “Will you honor me with this dance, Kit?”

She nodded. Right now she needed the steady comfort of being with Sydney, who’d always been her lifeline in the storm that was her family.

But as they danced, that steady comfort evaded her. Being with him felt…unfamiliar. Awkward. And she’d never felt awkward with Sydney in her life.

“Have I lost all chance with you then, Kit?” Sydney asked in a low voice.

With a start, she gazed up into his worried face. Had he read her mind, for goodness sake? “What do you mean?”

“I hear Iversley is courting you. And if I were to judge from that kiss you gave him at the reading, you are not…averse to the courtship.”

“Sydney—”

“No, let me say this first. I know you’re unhappy with me, but I can make it up to you. If you’ll consent to marry me, I’ll go to Mother now and tell her. I’ll announce it at this very party, before I even tell her, if that is what you wish.”

She gaped at him. Alec’s little scheme, false as it had been, had worked. Sydney was actually proposing.

“Why?” she asked. “What has made you suddenly eager to marry, when you haven’t spoken to me for a week?”

“I’ve finally realized what’s good for me. And you’re good for me.”

She arched one eyebrow. “Like eating well and taking exercise?”

“No…that is…you’ll keep me from doing anything foolish or reckless.”

She managed a smile. “You couldn’t do anything foolish or reckless if you tried.”

He swallowed and looked away. “You never know. Temptation lies everywhere.” His gaze swung back to her. “So will you do it? Marry me, I mean?”

She stared at him, temporarily at a loss for words. Sydney was the same man she’d always known, the same man she’d imagined marrying for years—kind, attentive, a brilliant poet. He was still her friend, with the same handsome, aristocratic features, the same close-shaven chin and artfully arranged curls.

But when she tried to imagine him kissing her as passionately as Alec, or making her heart race with a word, she couldn’t. She simply couldn’t.

Still, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? With Sydney she would never feel the hollow pain of the past two days, the cruel uncertainty, the fierce desires that came to her unexpectedly in the night. Everything would be courteous and quiet and peaceful.

Sounds boring to me.

Alec’s words pounded in her ears. Cursed arrogant scoundrel—it was so like him to invade her thoughts! Look what he’d done to her. He’d ruined Sydney for her. He’d made her as bad as he was—eager for excitement and dissatisfied with the quiet life.

And a breaker of rules.

Sydney watched her with pain in his face. “Does your silence mean ‘no’?”

“You wouldn’t be happy with me now.” As angry as she was at Alec, as confused as he made her feel, she did know that Sydney wasn’t the right man for her.

He tensed. “It’s him, isn’t it? He’s turned you against me.”

“Not exactly—”

“Even if you don’t wish to have me anymore,” Sydney said tightly, “at least choose someone better than Iversley to replace me.”

“He’s not as bad as you think.”

“He didn’t arrive to take you to the party, did he?”

“Mama told you—he was held up at his estate.”

Sydney snorted. “A likely tale. I doubt he would care enough about his estate to get held up there.”

She thought of the fervor with which Alec had described Edenmore and shook her head. “I think you’re wrong.”

“Why are you defending him?”

She blinked. “I don’t know.”

“He’s off somewhere doing God knows what and breaking his promise, yet you put up with it—”

“Oh, no, I shan’t put up with it, believe me.” There would be no more evasions, no more inconsiderate behavior, or she would send him packing. “But I believe there’s good in him.”

Until she said it, she hadn’t realized it. But it was true. It might be buried rather deep, but there was good in him.

“You’re wrong about him, Kit. At best, he’s a prankster who makes fun of bad poets for entertainment.” When she gaped at him, Sydney added, “Yes, I noticed all his antics at the reading. It was exactly the sort of thing he did at Harrow. He never takes anything seriously.”

Whereas Sydney took everything so seriously that he couldn’t even make up his mind about marriage.

“At worst,” Sydney continued, “he’s a duplicitous defiler of women.”

“And how do you know that about him?”

“Surely you recognize the type—charming, quick-witted, skilled at seduction, and completely without moral fiber.”

“In other words, you know it because you assume it. Not because you have any evidence that he defiles or deceives women.”

Sydney grew sullen. “He used to flatter the maids at Harrow so he could kiss them.”

A giggle floated up inside her. She could easily imagine a sixteen-year-old Alec feeling his oats, flirting with some chambermaid so he could steal a kiss. It would be just like him. “If he did, he probably kissed a great many. I doubt few maids could resist Alec’s charm.”

“You’re not listening—”

“Why should I? It would be one thing if you could show me how dastardly he’s been since he’s arrived in England, but all this nonsense from his days at Harrow…goodness, every boy does those things.”

“I didn’t.”

“I’ll bet your friend Lord Napier did. He seems the sort.”

Sydney gave a strangely harsh laugh. “One thing I can promise you—Napier has never tried to kiss a chambermaid in his life.”

“If you say so. But all boys act foolishly sometimes. You can’t judge a man’s character by the pranks he played as a lad.” Especially a man who’d been estranged from his father and sent abroad in the middle of a war.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Tell me something, Sydney—what exactly did Alec do to get sent down from school?” That was one subject Alec had been tight-lipped about.

Sydney frowned. “His stupid friends had some notion that they could pass themselves off as a royal entourage if Iversley would pretend to be the Prince of Wales. They strolled into an inn they’d never gone to in a neighboring town and demanded an expensive meal. When the innkeeper challenged them, they ran off, but the man reported it to Harrow and picked every one of them out.”

She gaped at him. “That’s it? That’s the horrible act that got him banished to Portugal?”

“I don’t know about Portugal, but it got him kicked out of Harrow.”

She laughed. She couldn’t stop laughing. Considering all the awful crimes she’d imagined, she’d never guessed it could be something so silly.

Sydney was scowling. “It’s not funny, you know. There was a terrible furor over it. All the boys got in trouble, and Iversley’s father hauled him off, swearing he would thrash him when he got him home.”

She sobered. His father had done far worse than thrash him, judging from the wistfulness in Alec’s voice whenever he spoke of his mother.

The waltz was ending, so Sydney took her arm to lead her from the floor. “Promise me you won’t make any hasty decisions about Iversley, Kit.”

She sighed. It was time to tell him that she’d agreed to marry the man. And she didn’t relish his reaction.

The voice of Lady Purefoy’s butler suddenly sounded over the crowd, announcing a new arrival. “The Right Honorable The Earl of Iversley.”

She started and turned as the crowd murmured around her.

And no wonder. The man descending the steps didn’t look like an earl or even a lord. Instead of evening attire, Alec wore a rumpled frock coat of olive green, buckskin trousers, and top boots caked with mud. His raven hair was mussed, and his chin looked as if it hadn’t seen a razor in days.

Such an ungentlemanly appearance would have roused comment anywhere, but at a party as elegant as Lady Purefoy’s, it sparked loudly voiced disapproval.

Alec paid it no heed, striding into the ballroom with a dark gaze that warned everyone off. When at last his gaze settled on her, Katherine felt a sudden thrill of fear. Because while no one else in the ballroom might realize it, Alec was furious.

And judging from the direction of his glare, his anger was all for her.