Three months later…

Hamish hadn’t thought life could get much worse after his sister’s death. Her loss had cracked his heart open, and though echoes of grief still tormented him, a blessed numbness had wrapped his heart in a protective layer. A series of unfortunate incidents seemed determined to compound his misery and he truly hadn’t thought anything could again stir his emotions which had been cauterized by pain. However, looking at the charred remains on what was left of a good portion of his London home, a home which had rung with happy memories of her joyous laughter, well, he had to amend such thoughts.

The year could bugger off for all he cared. First, he’d been assaulted at the Inn, the very Inn where his purse had been stolen. Upon arriving back in town he’d attended his favourite gaming hell, only to have been set upon by footpads where his winnings for the night, totalling almost a hundred pounds had been fleeced from him. He’d also suffered another bloody nose for his troubles.

Why he had been so unfortunate he could not fathom, unless the almighty was annoyed at him for not doing his duty and marrying a suitable young debutante. He was not looking to marry anytime soon if at all. His beloved sister’s child would inherit his fortune and property, there was really no need for him to marry and reproduce at all. Even so, the amount of misfortune that had plagued him was starting to cause talk among his servants, and he no longer knew what to do to turn the tide back to being lucky instead of unlucky.

And now this. He shook his head, stepping back from the building when a large beam gave way, taking a portion of the floor with it. Servants and neighbors milled about him, looking up at what had once been part of his home. The part where he held his annual ball, and his sitting room on the first floor. All gone, nothing but ash and charred wood.

Damn it.

“I just heard, Hamish. I’m so sorry.”

Hunter, the Marquess of Aaron, clapped him on the shoulder, holding him. “We’ll have it rebuilt in no time. Do not despair.”

Hamish wondered the time as the marquess was still dressed for his evening out, but there was no sign of Cecilia in the carriage. He sighed, not sure if he had it in him to take on such a task. He’d had so much bad luck of late, he’d likely have the job completed only to have it burnt down again. “Do you ever feel as though your life is wrong? That you must’ve done something so heinous, that the world is out to get you?”

Hunter looked at him. “No, but is that how you feel?”

Hamish grimaced. “I cannot help but feel that I need to right some wrong or I’ll continue to be somewhat cursed. No one I know has had as much misfortune as I have this year.”

“You’re talking about being attacked by footpads down in Vauxhall.”

“Yes, but there have been other things as well.” Maybe he’d not told Hunter all of what had happened to him since the death of his sister. Even so, it didn’t change the fact that bad things continued to happen to him and he didn’t know why. He was a rogue and a well sought-after gentleman yes, but he was not evil. He donated to the Duchess of Athelby and the Marchioness’ of Aaron’s London Relief Society every year. Paid his employees a fair wage and tried to be courteous to all, no matter their station. So, what was he doing wrong? Why did the fates of the world seem determined to have him crumble to his knees? It made no sense.

“You’d best be going. Cecilia will be wondering where you are, and I do not need to share my misfortune with others. It’s probably best that you stayed away permanently.”

“Do not take any heed of what the rumor mongers are saying about you.”

Hamish rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. When the fire took hold last evening, he’d been abed and heard the cracking, popping sound coming from outside his door. Thank god he’d gone to investigate for he could’ve lost his whole home had he not alerted the servants and had two of them run and fetch the water engine while they fought with buckets of sand, water and sodden hessian bags.

“People are talking about me, and after this they will be even more so.”

“Let us not worry about what has happened to you, but what our next steps are in moving forward. You have to rebuild.”

Which means he’ll have to hire a master builder. The thought left him weary.

“You can stay with us until your home is repaired.”

Hamish called over his steward who was inspecting the charred remains of his home. “Mr. Oakes, contact J Smith & Son lawyers and have them do an assessment for the insurance. We’ll need to get this rebuild completed as soon as may be. We’ll also need to hire two strong men to keep watch on the home until it is secure once again. I don’t wish to lose anything else in this conundrum.”

His agent bowed. “Yes, Sir. I’ll get onto it right away.”

“Henderson,” Lord Aaron called out, gaining the attention of Hamish’s valet who also stood on the street, his visage one of shock. “Pack up what you can of his lordship’s clothing and have it sent around to my townhouse as soon as may be. Have Stubbs pack up whatever valuables he can manage. That’ll have to do I’m afraid.”

Hamish followed the marquess into the home to view the destruction more clearly, and although a lot of the building was smoke damaged, at least it was standing. How the remainder of the house hadn’t caught alight was anyone’s guess, but the thunder storm that came through, dousing the building with rain had helped. A little silver lining had been there at least. It was the reason the flames had been subdued and eventually put out. The charred walls, peeling, blackened wallpaper, family paintings that were smouldering was too much to take in, and within a few minutes Hamish strode toward the door. He couldn’t look anymore. Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the mess.

“Sir, if you please before you depart,” his steward said, coming out of the room that had suffered serious damage due to the fire on the floor above.

“Yes, Mr. Oakes what is it?”

“I have sent for the insurance brokers and your lawyers. Stubbs and Henderson will bring everything that you asked for to the Marquess of Aaron’s London home before luncheon tomorrow.”

“Very good. I thank you,” he said, eager to be away.

Their carriage waited down the lane a little way, due to the men who were already working on his home to secure it as best they could and to ensure the fire was definitely out. Hamish shook his head at the chaos this disaster had caused his neighbors and himself. To think only yesterday all was as it should be in Berkley Square and today, well, it was not what anyone would wish for.

Katherine sat at her desk in her father’s library and read the missive from a Mr. Oakes, steward for the Earl of Leighton. She’d heard about the fire in Mayfair but hadn’t know it was Lord Leighton who’d suffered the consequences.

She took out a piece of parchment and wrote Mr. Oakes, notifying him she would attend his lordship’s home to commence a quote on the rebuilding of the wing that was damaged and that he could expect her by two in the afternoon.

“Everything well, my dear? I saw there were a few missives this morning.”

Katherine glanced up to see her father poking his head about her door, his clothing was worn and dusty from the morning’s job down at the south west dock on the Thames. His grey beard and bushy eyebrows also sported a little dust and she chuckled. No matter where he was, if he were in London he always ensured he came home to dine with her, especially after the loss of her mother only two years before. Whether he did it because he thought she was lonely, or he was, Katherine wasn’t certain, but she enjoyed his company either way.

“We’ve been asked to quote up Lord Leighton’s rebuild on his home on Berkeley Square. He was the gentleman who suffered from the fire last week. From what his man of business states, he lost a whole wing of his home. The entertaining part of his abode, so they’re set on having it fixed as soon as may be.”

“Entertaining part, hey?” her father said, grinning. “Did you not attend a ball there a year or so ago? With Cecilia?”

“I did,” she said, standing and joining her father, taking his arm and leading him toward their dining room. “It was a lovely ballroom too. A great shame that it has been lost. They need a master builder and since you’re by far the best in London, they’ve asked for you and no other.”

“Well,” her father said, standing a little taller by such praise. “I am honoured. Make sure when you go out on site that you are fair but honest, reasonable, but understanding. I should like to do another such project of such import, we have not had one for a year or so.”

“No, we have not.” They sat at the table, the smell of vegetable soup, warm and inviting filled the room as the first course was placed before them. This time of night, when it was just the two of them was Katherine’s favourite. Since her mother’s death the time they spent together talking about the events of their day had become religious.

They sat and started to eat, her father making complimentary noises with each spoonful of soup.

“What other rooms were damaged do you know?”

“The ballroom of course, part of an upstairs sitting room, the passage leading to these rooms has smoke damage and the roof in the ballroom has since collapsed, so it’s all a rightful mess. But I’ll take Thomas with me, and he’ll measure up, make a detailed drawing of the rooms, such as they were, and we’ll quote up after that.

“Do we know who’ll be refurbishing the rooms?”

Katherine took her last sip of soup, laying down her spoon. “No, I have not been informed of that as yet, but I should imagine it’ll be Mr. Hope who works with all those of Earl Leighton’s calibre.”

“Of course. I should’ve remembered.”

The door to the dining room opened and in walked Katherine’s cousin, her late mother’s niece, Jane Digby. Katherine inwardly groaned. Since Jane had arrived a week past to enjoy the season with them, it had been seven days that Katherine was looking forward to putting behind her.

Jane, a pretty woman of nineteen had long blonde locks with just enough curl to add volume and enable styles to hold correctly. She wasn’t too tall, like Katherine was, and her figure was pleasing. Worse was Jane knew she turned heads wherever she went with her bright blue eyes and flawless skin. Her only fault, her very bold, knowing speech. Maybe due to the fact that living in the small country parish near Nottingham didn’t allow for her to learn what one should and should not discuss. It was no error of the girl, her mother obviously lavished attention with little restraint, but now the result of such laxity in her upbringing meant Katherine made every effort to avoid her since Jane and her lofty opinions now included all of Katherine’s faults. What she could wear that would bring out the color of her eyes better, or help in hiding her almighty height that was not favourable to men of their class. Or what she could do with her hair to help conceal the dull brown she’d been born with.

“Oh, I’m so sorry I’m late. I wanted your maid, Mary to do my hair. She’s so very clever, but it took an age to complete.” Jane sat at the table, and placing a napkin on her lap, gestured for the footman to serve her the soup course.

“It looks lovely, my dear,” her father said, catching Katherine’s eyes, a twinkle of mirth in his.

“Where did you find the feather?” Katherine took a sip of wine, anything to stop her lips from grinning at the girl’s exuberant hair style.

Jane ate her soup, nodding eagerly. “Oh yes, I wanted a peacock’s feather, but I could only find one from an old hat in the attic. I think it may be a chicken feather.”

Her father coughed, and Katherine took pity on her cousin. “We shall go down to the haberdashers tomorrow and we’ll see if we can find you more suitable feathers for your hats. What do you think of that?”

Jane literally bounced in her chair, her eyes bright with excitement. “Oh, how I should love to do that. And maybe while we’re there they may have a hat for you to replace the one you use on our walks in the park each day. Your hair is such a bland, dull colour of brown and your bonnet being of the same color does nothing for you. If you’re to catch a husband, you really ought to put more effort into your appearance.”

Katherine smiled, thanking the footman as he served her the second course. “Thank you, Jane. I shall take your advice into consideration,” she said with forced politeness, not wanting to snap at Jane’s inconsiderate remarks and cause an argument that would distress her father.

“Oh, you should,” Jane continued, pushing away her soup and asking for the second course. “All my friends in Gotham tell me I’m an expert on these things and they do everything that I tell them. You should. I would lay a wager that should you take all my advice you’ll gain a husband sooner rather than later.”

“If Katherine gains a husband, I lose a daughter. Do not rush into anything my dear. I should miss you.”

Katherine smiled at her father, having no intention of gaining a husband, not unless they were ideal ones like her two good friends, Marchioness of Aaron or the Duchess of Athelby. The Marquess and Duke were the best of men, possessing qualities she wanted in her own union. They were loving and caring toward their wives, and Cecilia coming from the same stock as Katherine, so much lower in society than his lordship only made him worthier of her friend’s love. To put what Society expects of him aside and marry for love ensured Katherine adored him almost as much as Cecilia did.

“Are you attending Cecilia’s card night tonight, my dear? Unless I’m mistaken and it’s a different day altogether.”

Katherine pulled her mind away from her musings of her friends’ happy marriages or the fact that she’d once longed for something similar. To have a family and children, but now at six and twenty, those dreams seemed ever more distant with each day. “I am, papa. I’ll be leaving after dinner.”

“In that gown?” Jane asked, assessing the gown , distaste clouding her inspection.

She looked down at her light pink muslin dress. Although not the height of fashion, it was pretty and not damaged or marked. After all, it was only a card night with close friends, not like a ball where Katherine would be expected to dress in the heights of fashion.

“What is wrong with this dress? I thought it suited me very well.”

“You look beautiful, my dear,” her father stated, pushing away his second course.

“It’s so plain and boring. Why, you positively look drab.”

“Jane, that is unkind,” her father put in with a frown.

At her father’s response, Jane turned her attention to her meal. Their quiet repast didn’t last long.

“I didn’t mean to be mean, uncle. I merely wish for Katherine to do well when she’s out at parties and events. Should my cousin gain a good marriage, it would improve my own prospects. I would loathe having to marry a country clergyman. How awful that should be. I’m sure I should die of boredom within the first month.”

If only they were so lucky… “Tonight’s event is merely a friendly get together and I can assure you, my gown, as plain and dull as it is, will do very well. My friends do not care what I wear, so long as I attend.” Katherine stood, coming around and kissing her father’s cheek. “I shall leave you now. I asked for the carriage to be out front by seven and it’s almost time.”

Her father patted her arm. “Very good my dear. I shall see you when you return home.”

“I may be late. Do not wait up.”

Katherine headed out into the foyer, slipping on her bonnet before picking up her cloak and gloves where she’d left them near the front door. As expected her carriage sat waiting for her. Leaning against the cushioned squabs, she sighed in relief being away from her cousin. As much as she cared for the girl, she was best served in little doses. Her constant criticism of her person was wearing. Katherine didn’t need anyone to tell her of her faults. She knew them very well.

She was a woman who worked for her father, managed most things other than the manual labor her father’s building company was known for. A tall woman, she was too thin, too lanky to be attractive. A Long Meg as some called her. Not to mention small breasts made her look like a stick. Katherine looked down at her bodice and tried to adjust her gown to give her the appearance of more cleavage. She sighed, giving up when her efforts accomplished nothing. There was no hope, she was what she was and there was nothing she could do about it.

The carriage pulled up before Cecilia’s home, and Katherine jumped down without help. The front door opened, and Cecilia’s butler smiled in welcome.

“Miss Martin, please come inside. The marchioness is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

“Thank you, Thomas.” Katherine handed him her cloak and started toward the hall beside the stairs. The home was bright with light and smelt of flowers. Since Cecilia had married the Marquess last spring, she’d taken to having floral arrangements in every room no matter the season, and the home smelt divine always.

Katherine smiled as a footman opened the door for her into the drawing room and she entered to a room full of people, laughing and playing cards. A woman sat playing at the piano-forte, there was more in attendance than she had thought to be, and Jane’s reminder of her gown made her stomach drop. Perhaps she should have changed into something more fitting.

“You’re here,” Cecilia said, making her way through the guests, and reaching Katherine, pulled her into a fierce hug. “I’m so glad you came. I need someone I can really talk to.” Cecilia wore a striking cerulean blue silk gown that flowed over her like water. Her friend had such beautiful clothes these days that she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous over her remarkable sense of style.

“You can talk to me,” the marquess said, coming to stand beside them.

Katherine laughed, and Cecilia smirked. “You know what I mean,” she said.

“Luckily I do,” the marquess said. He turned to Katherine and leaning down, kissed her cheek. “We have not seen enough of you, Kat. You need to visit us more often. Thank you for coming tonight.”

Cecilia took Katherine’s arm, pulling her into the room. “Come and sit by me and Darcy. We’re discussing what we’re going to do this Season and we want you to be involved as well. As much as your father can spare you, of course. We know you’re very busy.”

The thought of working each day, and now with the possibility of Lord Leighton’s home rebuild, didn’t leave much room for socializing. Though if she was to find a husband as loving and sweet as the duchess and marchioness did, well, then she’d have to put her need for sleep aside and do what she must. Dance until dawn. She loved her papa and loved working with him, but she still yearned for the fulfilment of a husband and children someday.

Her parents’ marriage had been such a happy one, full of love and respect. Growing up she’d been supported and unconditionally loved, and wanted the same for her own children if she were so fortunate.

“What did you have in mind?”

The Duchess welcomed her with a warm hug also, and before long it had been an hour of nothing but chatter about gowns, balls and parties. The duchess was looking forward to holding a country visit mid-season at their estate in Berkshire. All of which Katherine was invited to should she wish to attend.

A slight tittering from the ladies who stood about the room caught Katherine’s attention and she turned to see Lord Leighton enter, standing in the threshold and surveying them all like a sitting god looking over his mere mortals. Katherine had seen him before, a few times in fact considering they had mutual friends, but tonight dressed in light colored satin knee-breeches and a long-tailed blue superfine coat he was beyond perfect. He appeared like he was attending the grandest ball in London.

Not cards and drinks with friends.

“I am here!” he declared, laughing and walking over to the Duke of Athelby and the Marquess who stood aside of the guests talking. The men shook hands and Katherine watched them, unable to tear her eyes away from Lord Leighton and his lovely, extraordinary male form.

Not that she should be looking at men in this society, certainly not in the way she was regarding Lord Leighton, but it was hard to not admire their dashing elegance. No men should be born with such beauty and his lordship had that in droves. Unlike most men of his set, Lord Leighton had long hair, or at least, shoulder length. His locks were tied back in a black ribbon tonight, and the design brought out his cutting cheekbones and generous lips. As for his eyes, they were his finest feature if she had to pick one, and in all honestly there were many to choose from. But his eyes were almond in shape and were such a dark shade of onyx that they were almost black. She inwardly sighed at his beauty, marvelling how anyone could be born with not only wealth and stature but also looks. How lucky he was.

“Have you met, Lord Leighton?” the duchess asked, sitting back in the chair and flicking a glance in the direction of her husband.

“I have. And tomorrow I’m to meet with him in relation to supplying his man of business with a quote for the rebuild of his home. What a terrible situation for him to be in. Do you know where he’s staying while his home is repaired?”

“He’s staying here,” Cecilia said, matter of fact. “Will be here for some time from what I understand. The damage was substantial and will take some months to repair.”

“It is very bad, but it could’ve been a lot worse. It was lucky he woke up and was able to sound the alarm, or he could’ve been killed,” Katherine added.

“Very true.” The duchess smiled, as her husband came to stand beside her.

“Miss Martin, have you met Lord Hamish Doherty, Earl Leighton,” the duke said, gesturing to his friend as he came to join them. The Marquess of Aaron following close and went to stand behind Cecilia.

Katherine met the Earls eyes and saw the moment he recognized her.

“Well, what chance is this? The lady who saved my life. How do you do, Miss Martin. I hope you’re enjoying your evening?”

“I am, thank you, my lord. And I must say I’m glad to see that you made it back to London after all, although I am sad to hear about the fire you’ve suffered this past week.”

“Thank you, yes. As you can see I’m back in town, thanks to you.”

“Why do I get the feeling you two have a little story that we’re not aware of.” The duchess said, glancing back and forth between them.

“Because we do,” the Earl said, matter of fact, before taking a sip of his champagne. “Miss Martin saved my hide at an inn on my way home from your estate in fact. And I have not forgot your kindness, my dear. I still owe you.”

“And you shall owe her more after tomorrow,” Cecilia added, grinning.

The Earl frowned. “Why is that?” he asked.

Katherine took pity on the man. “You may have forgotten, but I believe I mentioned that my father is a master builder, my lord. I’m to meet with your man of business tomorrow to quote for the structural repairs to your home here in London.”

“You?” the Earl said, his brow raised in obvious shock.

“Careful, Hamish, remember you’re surrounded by three very strong women right at this moment,” the duke said, smiling.

“I meant no offence, Miss Martin, I’m just shocked that is all. I did not think women partook in such employment.”

“Normally they do not, but I’m the exception,” she said with a small smile, pride warming her chest. And tomorrow she would prove to him exactly how much of an exception she was. Her mind was quick, and her mathematical skills better than most, as was her ability to barter for the best wood prices one could get in London and beyond. It was why her father trusted and relied on her so much in the business. Between them they checked, and double checked their calculations and sums and they were yet to make a mistake, hence why they were so very busy.

The Earl’s direct gaze caressed over her length and a peculiar shiver stole over her. Did he like what he saw or was he merely curious that the woman across from him wasn’t the standard so many of his ilk married?

She didn’t need her cousin Jane to remind her of her lack of charm and elegance. Around the duchess and Cecilia, it was no secret she lacked their beauty and social confidence. Katherine was from trade, quite literally, a builder’s daughter and one who worked in the company. And although Cecilia, a woman from her social sphere had married a marquess, she was at least considered not as rough about the edges as Katherine since she hailed from a barrister’s family.

Katherine took in her gown and compared it to her friends. Their elegant silk, the cut and design of their dresses were the height of fashion, made her own modest dress look as cheap as it was compared to theirs.

Lifting her chin, she took a sip of her wine and fought to push the self-doubt aside. Darcy and Cecilia were her friends and would never ostracize her, no matter what Society might like to do.

Life was passing her by, her friends were starting families and marrying, while she seemed to be stuck, never moving forward, except towards old age.

“I look forward to viewing your quote, Miss Martin. Pleasure to meet you again,” Lord Leighton said, bowing before going off to join another set of guests. They welcomed him with laughter and perfect curtsies and his absence was missed.

Katherine watched him for a moment before turning her attentions back to her friends. Men like Lord Leighton didn’t see women like her as equals. Not wealthy or connected enough, and now at six and twenty her prospects of actually marrying at all, even in her own social sphere seemed a lost dream. As she grew older, Katherine had to admit that she didn’t seem to belong anywhere, except at her work. She was doomed to die an old maid. A woman who’d never experienced a stolen kiss or a wicked embrace from men of Lord Leighton’s ilk. Or anyone’s for that matter.

As the night wore on, as the card games and music started with impromptu dancing, and no gentleman asked her to dance, the little demoralizing sound of Jane’s voice wouldn’t abate. It’s constant reminding that she didn’t belong, wasn’t wanted and was not refined enough for her friends wouldn’t quieten.

No matter how much she told herself it was not so.