In the Prince’s Bed by Sabrina Jeffries (12)

Chapter Nineteen

When Alec spotted Katherine on Lovelace’s arm he saw red, and no amount of rational thought could rein in his thundering temper.

Never mind that he’d been the one to let the time get away from him while touring his half brother’s fascinating estate. Never mind that she had every right to dance with whomever she pleased.

According to Katherine’s manservant, she’d let Lovelace bring her and her mother here. She was letting Lovelace squire her about now, as if Alec had never existed…as if she hadn’t agreed to marry him a mere two days ago.

He wouldn’t stand for it.

As he approached, Lovelace stepped between them, surveying Alec with clear contempt. “So you’ve finally dragged yourself out of whatever hole you were wallowing in? You ought to be ashamed, embarrassing Miss Merivale like this.”

Katherine stepped out from behind Lovelace, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “That’s enough, Sydney.”

“Yes, ‘Sydney,’ ” Alec echoed snidely. “Why don’t you stay out of it? This is between me and my betrothed.”

“B-Betrothed?” Lovelace stammered.

Alec’s gaze narrowed on Katherine, whose blush confirmed why Lovelace looked confused. Alec’s temper went into full stampede. “Yes. Miss Merivale has agreed to marry me, a little fact she apparently forgot to tell you.”

Katherine glared at him. “I was about to do that, my lord.”

“Aren’t you glad I spared you the trouble?” With a scowl, he held out his arm. “And now, madam, I’d like a word with you.”

“See here—” Lovelace began.

“It’s all right, Sydney.” With a little lift of her chin, Katherine took Alec’s arm. “I’d like a word with his lordship, myself.”

They marched across the ballroom as people stared and whispered around them. Damn. He and Katherine would get no privacy here. And he wanted privacy for this little talk.

“Alec—” she began.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “Let’s go into the garden, where we can be alone.”

She started to pull her hand from his arm. “I don’t think I want to be alone with you just now.”

He gripped her hand as he steered her toward the doors leading outside. “You have no choice…unless you want me to go back and knock Lovelace into the next county after all.”

She shot him a nervous glance. “You wouldn’t.”

“Right now, I just might.”

She headed out the doors without a murmur. But as soon as they’d entered the garden, she wrenched free of his grip to whirl on him. “You are unconscionable. You don’t show up, you don’t send word, and then you get angry with me because I danced with Sydney?”

He stalked forward. “It wasn’t your dancing with him that sparked my temper, sweetheart. It was the fact that you hadn’t told him we’re marrying.”

Backing away, she shook her head. “You were angry before you even knew that.”

“How would you react if you’d raced here after two frantic days dealing with an emergency, only to find your intended on another man’s arm?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Probably the same way you’d react if you heard that your intended had gone to some hotel the very night he offered marriage. And that he didn’t want you to know about it.”

That knocked the wind right out of him. Only now did he notice the tears shining in her eyes and the trembling of her chin. Blast, blast, and double-blast.

A sound beyond her made him look up to see several people watching them from the balcony. Katherine followed his gaze and cursed under her breath.

He leveled a black look on their audience, who one by one disappeared back into the ballroom. Spotting an orangery at the end of the walk, he grabbed her arm and towed her toward it.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, trying to wriggle free.

“Do you really want to have this argument in front of half the world?”

“They’re gone now.”

“They’ll return, I assure you. No one can resist a public quarrel.”

That seemed to decide her, for she let him lead her inside the orangery. Despite the windows on the opposite end, the place was as black as gunpowder on the moonless night. He removed his gloves, then felt along the ledge near the door until he found a lamp and the flint box beside it.

Once lit, the lamp illuminated a very annoyed Katherine, who watched him with thinly disguised impatience. “Well? I had good reason to dance with Sydney. What is your reason for going to the Stephens Hotel and keeping it from me?”

He should have known Katherine would wheedle the truth out of that damned footboy. But how much had she learned? It would be just like his clever wife-to-be to pretend ignorance in order to catch him in a lie.

Better to stick to the facts. “I live there.”

Judging from the shock on her face, she hadn’t learned that. “Y-You what?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “I live at the Stephens Hotel when I’m in town. My father sold our town house when he grew too ill to come into society, and I haven’t had time to buy a new one.” Or the money to rent one.

Confusion knit her brow. “But why didn’t you want me to know that?”

“The Stephens Hotel isn’t exactly the grand lodgings an earl should have. I could have gone to the Clarendon, but the owner of Stephens is a friend of mine.” And the Clarendon was beyond his means.

She eyed him suspiciously. “Then why did your ‘friend’ say he’d never heard of you?”

Alarm swamped him. “What did you do—have a runner interrogate him?”

She had the good grace to blush. “No, but…well, when the footboy you sent wouldn’t say where he worked, I…had Thomas follow him. Thomas talked to the owner, who denied knowing you.”

Alec shrugged. “I requested that Jack not mention it to anyone. I didn’t want to deal with people’s questions about why I had no town house.”

“You know I wouldn’t care about something like that.”

“But your mother would. I didn’t think she’d be impressed to hear I was living at the Stephens Hotel.”

He took a step toward Katherine, but she stepped back quickly, still wary. “Do you care so much what Mama thinks of you?”

“You want her approval for our marriage, don’t you?”

“You know very well she’ll approve.” Her eyebrow cocked up. “She’s terribly pleased that you’re an earl.”

“But you’re not. You’d prefer Sir Sydney, the poet,” he said acidly, unable to squelch his jealousy.

“I’d prefer a man I can trust. I’m not entirely sure that’s you.”

Unfortunately, Katherine was too intelligent to be fooled by his flimsy excuses, so rational argument was futile. Only one tactic worked on her.

He headed purposefully for her. “You do trust me.” His gaze flicked down to her brooch. “Or you wouldn’t wear my gift. You trusted me to ride at you with a sword and not hurt you. You trusted me not to deflower you at Astley’s—”

“That was different,” she said, backing away. “You weren’t waltzing in from two days out of town without explaining or apologizing—”

“I’m apologizing now,” he said as he stalked her.

“Trying to kiss me is not apologizing.”

“It could be.” He reached for her.

She slapped his hand with her reticule, which was surprisingly heavy for such a flimsy-looking thing.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For thinking you can get around me with kisses.” She put some distance between them. “Now stay back. I want to know why you’re here so late and why you couldn’t send a message.”

He rubbed his stinging hand in annoyance. “Because by the time I realized it would take me longer than expected to deal with things, it was too late to send a message.”

“What things?” she persisted.

“Estate matters—I told you.”

“Be specific, Alec. What estate matters?”

He scowled at her. “If you think I’ll be the sort of husband who reports to his wife every time he sneezes, think again.”

“You won’t be any sort of husband at all if you don’t give me some answers.”

He sucked in a lungful of orange-scented air. Blast her. She was too curious by half. And he was on very shaky ground. “I had to return to my estate to ensure the delivery of some plows and tillers we need for the spring planting. There, are you happy?”

“Why couldn’t your steward do it?”

“Because I fired my father’s thieving steward, and neither my tenants nor the local merchants know the new one well enough yet to trust him.” He cocked his head. “Forgive me for not explaining all this earlier, but I didn’t realize estate management is your hobby.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she ignored his sarcasm. “ ‘To ensure the delivery’ took you two days?”

He gritted his teeth. “When the merchant refuses to honor his son’s word, it does. He wouldn’t deliver, so I had to make other arrangements, and that meant a stop in Hertfordshire at a friend’s estate.”

He was congratulating himself for telling her everything without lying when she said, “What other arrangements?”

“I’m in no mood to discuss all the workings of my estate,” he growled as he headed for her again. “After two days of dealing with stubborn merchants, suspicious tenants, and a worried steward, I’m in the mood for only one thing—reminding my intended which man she agreed to marry. Something she seems to have conveniently forgotten.”

Her eyes went wide as she started backing away again. “I didn’t forget. I-I was working up to telling him…”

“While you danced with him. And promenaded on his arm.”

She stepped back, only to come up against an orange tree so hard that it dropped leaves onto her gown and into her hair. Wielding her reticule like a weapon, she glared at him. “Stay back, or I’ll hit you again.”

“Go ahead.” He reached for her. “I dare you.”

When she tried to swat him with her reticule, he easily snatched it out of her hand. He started to toss it aside, but its weight gave him pause. “What do you carry in this thing—cannonballs?”

Alarm spread over her features. “Give it back!”

With a shake of his head, he opened it. When he saw the book inside, curiosity turned to anger. “Poetry from your friend, I suppose.”

He drew the book out, then walked over to the lamp. When he read the title, he couldn’t believe it. Scowling, he waved the book at her. “Lovelace gave you this?”

She shook her head. “I…um…it…belonged to my father.”

That shocked him even more. “And he gave it to you?”

“No!” Even in the lamplight, he could see her blush. “I-I found it hidden in his study after he died.”

Eyes narrowing, he flipped through the flimsy thing, noting the chapter headings: “The Best Gifts for Seduction,” “Discretion for the Rake,” “Finding a Woman’s Weakness”…

His anger burst into full flame. He shook it at her. “This is why you won’t trust me, why you fight my suit at every turn? Because you’ve been reading some claptrap—”

“It’s not claptrap, unfortunately,” she said bitterly. “Papa seems to have followed every instruction.”

“Then he was an idiot.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “True. But I wanted to understand what made him an idiot. And why some men like to seduce women for fun.”

“I suppose you include me in that group. How dare you compare me to your blasted father? I’ve given you no reason to think I’m like him.”

“Haven’t you?”

The light suddenly dawned. “That’s what you thought I was doing at Stephens Hotel—seeing some woman.”

“You did go to a lot of trouble to make sure I didn’t find out.”

“Blast it, Katherine. How could you think I’d do that to you? Do you still trust me that little?”

Her gaze met his, wide and wary. “I don’t know what to make of you. I never have.”

He brandished the book. “So you’ve filled your head with this nonsense and decided I’m a rakehell, based on a few rumors and Lovelace’s resentment.”

She stuck out her chin. “And the way you behave.”

“You mean, by kissing you?” He lowered his voice. “By pleasuring you?”

“By lying—”

“I’ve never lied to you.” But of course he had. Small lies, evasions, minor deceptions…and the one great deception still going on.

All the same, she had no right to attribute to him worse crimes than he deserved. “Your distrust has nothing to do with what I’ve actually done. No matter what I do or say, you’ll still think me the epitome of wickedness and debauchery.”

“You have to admit—”

“I don’t have to admit anything.” He marched toward her. “I’m a rakehell, a liar, and a cheat, a man who deceives women for entertainment. I’m…let’s see…” He flipped open the book and read at random, “A master seducer.”

He narrowed his gaze on her. “Yes, I like that. A master seducer. And all this time, I thought I was merely a man courting a woman he wanted to marry.” He tossed the book aside and stripped off his coat, then began unfastening the buttons of his waistcoat. “Little did I know.”

Her eyes went wide. “Now, Alec, you aren’t going to—”

“Shh, sweetheart.” Shucking his waistcoat, he caught her to him. “Let the master work.”

His temper spurring him on, he took her mouth with grim determination. Time to show his wife-to-be that he meant to master her, one way or the other. And if he had to do it by seducing her, then so be it.