A Lady by Midnight (12 page)

“Were you thinking I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t sure. To tease you felt like a risk, but I couldn’t resist.” She approached the pianoforte. “I didn’t know you played.”

“Oh, yes. My brother Bennett does as well—or at least, he used to. Oddly enough, none of my sisters show much inclination for it. It seems to be a trait confined to the Gramercy men.” A half smile tugged at his mouth. “That is, on
our
side of the family.”

“Do you know if my—if Simon Gramercy played?”

“I believe he did.” Lord Drewe slid down the bench and gestured for her to sit. “Shall we try a duet?”

“I’d like nothing more.”

She choose a simple piece—one of those easy duets that all novice pianists learn with their tutors. Kate had played the lower part of it countless times with her students. Today, she took the upper part, and Lord Drewe quickly entered with the bass.

He was good. Very good. Within a few measures, she could discern his skill. He had long, deft fingers and a reach that she envied. But his talent went deeper than mere skill—he possessed a natural musicality that even a gifted teacher could not impart. Seldom did she have a pupil who could match her for training, but occasionally one came close.

This was the first time in years she’d felt herself truly
bested.

But it was marvelous. As they played, she felt him making her better. She soon left the proscribed boundaries of the exercise, taking the melody down different paths. He followed her lead, occasionally made his own suggestions with a new, surprising chord. It would have been difficult to explain to anyone who didn’t play—but the duet was a conversation. They responded to one another, adjusting tempo and dynamics. They finished one another’s phrases. They even told each other jokes.

His technique was flawless; his style, restrained. But she sensed true passion beneath it all.

When they ended the duet with a playful flourish and one final, muted secret of a chord, they looked to each other.

“Well, then,” he said. “That seals it. You must be part of the family.”

Her heart missed a beat. “What are you saying? Did you have some news, some result from the inquiries . . . ?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s so much indirect evidence. We’ve spent the whole week with you, and we’re all agreed. You simply fit in, Kate. This”—he indicated the pianoforte—“is just one more reason. In my mind, the investigation is concluded. Don’t you feel it, too?”

Kate didn’t feel certain of anything—except that she was most certainly going to cry. She tried to hold the tears back, but a few spilled over. She swiped at them with the side of her wrist.

A few moments passed before she could speak. “Lord Drewe, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“To begin with, you must call me Evan now. And no thanks are necessary.”

Kate drew up her legs beneath her dressing gown and angled to face him on the piano bench. If he was truly her cousin, she now had the right to fuss over him. “Why are you up so late, Evan?”

“I might ask you the same thing.” One dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t believe it was only the dog.”

When she stammered a bit in response, he waved off her explanations.

“It’s all right. You needn’t manufacture excuses. We’re all a bit haunted, we Gramercys. Each of us has a passion. My sister Calista—you’ll meet her soon—has always been wild for nature. Harriet lives for drama, and Lark loves a puzzle. Our brother Bennett would tell you his passion is vice, but he once had nobler pursuits.”

“So your passion is music?”

He shook his head. “I enjoy music, and I often take refuge in it. But music is not what makes me . . .”

“Seethe,” she finished.

He smiled. “Precisely.”

“Then what is it? Or whom?” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask.”

“No, it is your place. Because you’re part of it now. My passion is the family, Kate. This title I’ve inherited, the responsibilities of managing several estates. Being a good steward of the land. Taking care of those in my protection. Guarding my siblings from themselves.”

He stared into the corner, and Kate took the opportunity to study him. She noted the small creases at the corners of his eyes. Here and there she could glimpse a thread of silver in his dark hair. But these subtle signs of age looked well on him. They harmonized with his worldly demeanor, as though his body were learning to reflect the maturity of the soul inside. He was a fine-looking man by any standard, but she suspected his most handsome years were yet to come.

He pushed a hand through his hair. “Corporal Thorne does not like me.”

She startled at the abrupt change of topic. “Oh, please don’t believe that. If you go by appearances, Corporal Thorne doesn’t like anyone. He’s very . . . reserved.”

“Perhaps. But he resents me in particular, and for good reason. He believes that I should have known of your existence, and that I should have tried harder to find you. I know he’s right.”

“You couldn’t possibly have known. You were only a youth when you inherited.”

“But you were just a girl, living penniless and alone.” He rubbed his temple. “As you might have gathered . . . a violent temper is one of my worst faults. I have no patience for those who cross my family.”

A rather grave understatement, Kate thought, given the five duels. His having walked away unscathed from one or two such confrontations would be impressive enough, but . . .

Five.

Evan sighed heavily. “This is what Corporal Thorne does not appreciate. No one can be angrier with me than I am with myself. You’ve been wronged, Kate, and I have no one to call out. No malfeasance to blame but my own inattention. Someday, I will ask you to forgive me. But not tonight.”

Kate leaned forward, boldly placing her hand on his arm. “There is no need. Please believe me when I tell you I have no room for bitterness or rancor in my heart. It’s too full of joy and gratitude. I’m so happy to have a family at long last.”

“I am soothed to hear it.” He took her hand in his and regarded it carefully. Thoughtfully. “Do you care for him?”

“Thorne? I . . .” She hesitated, but only to choose her phrasing. The answer was instinctive. “I do care. I care very much.”

“Do you love him?”

Now here was something she’d been avoiding asking herself. But she couldn’t let pass the opportunity to unburden her heart. Evan was family.

“I think I could come to love him,” she said. “If he would let me.”

Evan’s thumb rubbed a lazy circle on the back of her hand. “It’s plain you have a brave and generous heart. I imagine you could love just about anyone, if you made up your mind to do it. But you deserve a man who can love you in return.”

Kate smiled a little, nervously.

His grasp on her hand was warm and firm. “I mean to take care of you. I want you to know this. If there’s no legacy allotted in the terms of Simon’s estate, I will ensure that you have one. You will be an independent woman of significant wealth. A woman with choices.” He leaned meaningfully on that last word.

She swallowed. “Evan, you needn’t do that for me. I’ve never had any expectation of—”

“I have expectations of myself, Kate.” His eyes glittered in the dark. “I have a passion for protecting this family. And that passion now extends to you.”

A silence opened between them. As they regarded one another, Kate’s curiosity grew.

He had a “passion” for her. The insides of her elbows tingled. What did that mean, exactly?

“Corporal Thorne is a good man,” she said.

“Perhaps. But is he the best man for
you
?” He looked down at where their hands remained linked. “Kate, it’s possible we won’t accumulate enough evidence to satisfy the courts of your identity. But that’s not the only way I can give you the family name.”

She stared at him through the flickering shadows. Surely he didn’t mean that the way it sounded. He couldn’t possibly be hinting at—

A floorboard creaked, and Kate startled.

Evan released her hand. “Just the dog. Don’t be alarmed.”

Relief washed over her. Nothing improper had passed between the two of them. At least, she didn’t think it had. But she cringed to imagine how the scene could have looked to a gossip-minded villager. That would be a juicy rumor for Sally Bright to stock in the All Things shop—Miss Taylor holding hands with Lord Drewe, when she was engaged to Corporal Thorne?

But no one would believe that rumor, Kate assured herself. A girl like her, courted by two virile, powerful men—and one of them a lord? She felt silly for even entertaining the idea herself.

Wrapping her dressing gown tight around her chest, she rose from the chair and gathered Badger.

“I’d best go back to the rooming house,” she said. “Please don’t stay up too late seething on my account.”

He gave her an intent look and a cryptic smile. “I make no promises.”

Chapter Twelve

B
y Spindle Cove custom, the midsummer fair was a children’s festival. But readying the crumbling Norman castle for its annual day of merriment required all the foresight and strategy of a military campaign.

There were so many preparations to complete. Music, dancing, food, displays, general amusement. Kate was responsible for the first two items on that list, and she’d worked hard toward the success of the latter three as well.

By mid-morning, however, she seemed doomed to fail at them all.

First Miss Lorrish brought distressing news about the decorations. “Miss Taylor, we’ve tried three times now. The swags simply won’t stay put on the southeastern turret.”

Kate shaded her brow with one hand and gazed up at the limp purple bunting dangling sadly from the crenellated parapet. “I’ll ask the militiamen to climb up and secure it.”

Next, it was Miss Apperton’s turn for a crisis. “Oh, Miss Taylor. I’ve broken the last good string for my lute.”

“You may borrow mine,” she offered.

Another hour smoothed most of the wrinkles, as children and families began to stream in from the countryside and village.

But then there was Miss Elliott. Poor, petrified Miss Elliott. The hapless young lady came skittering to Kate’s side moments before the ladies were to sing the madrigal.

“I can’t.” Beneath her bonnet’s wide brim, her cheeks blazed scarlet. “I just can’t do it.”

“You won’t be alone,” Kate assured her. “We’re all singing together.”

“But there are so many people. I didn’t realize—” Her voice broke. “Please don’t force me.”

“Don’t weep.” Kate drew her into a tight hug. “Of course I won’t force you. Just as long as you understand, I’m not giving up on you, either. We’ll hear you sing another day.” She pulled back and tilted her head to view under Miss Elliott’s bonnet. “Now, then. Chin high, keep smiling. Right?”

Miss Elliott sniffed and tried to smile. “Yes, of course.”

Poor girl.

When Kate considered that she might have been reunited with exacting relations like Miss Elliott’s, she felt the magnitude of her good fortune.

Her gaze slid to the Gramercys, seated under the canopy reserved for guests of honor. In the center were two flower-bedecked thrones. Kate had asked Evan to sit as ceremonial king of the fair, with Diana Highwood playing the part of his regal, placid queen.

After the dancing, Kate had a short break while the children’s hoop race went off. She made her way toward the canopy, meaning to check on Aunt Marmoset’s comfort.

Mrs. Highwood intercepted her, however, and drew her quickly aside. “Don’t they make a handsome couple?” she said. “I always knew Diana would do better than Minerva. Minerva might have caught herself a viscount, but now Diana will be a marchioness.”

“Mrs. Highwood,” Kate whispered through her teeth. “Please. They’re sitting just a few feet away.”

But the matron went on, undeterred. “Lord Drewe must fancy her. Why else would he have stayed in the village so long?”

“I’ve been giving Lady Lark music lessons.”

Mrs. Highwood erupted in laughter. “Oh, Miss Taylor. Do you expect me to believe a man of Lord Drewe’s fine looks, intelligence, manners, and stature would remain in this tiny village just for you?”

Kate sighed. No, she didn’t expect Mrs. Highwood to believe it.

She didn’t expect anyone to believe it.

Two days had passed since the night she came upon Evan playing the pianoforte in the Bull and Blossom, but those days were wholly consumed with preparations for today’s festivities. There hadn’t been any quiet opportunity to talk.

She kept thinking back to his cryptic comments that night. “That isn’t the only way I can give you the family name.”

Never in her life would she have dreamed that a marquess would hint at marrying her. And Mrs. Highwood was right—no one else would believe it, either.

It didn’t matter, anyhow. Kate was otherwise engaged. Her public intentions, private attention, and, increasingly, tender emotions were all engaged by the man now taking the green.

The hoop race finished, and the militiamen claimed the center of attention for a short rifle drill. As they marched forward in formation, Kate delighted in the opportunity to stare. Pride swelled in her heart.

Thorne was a sight to behold. He wore his best officer’s coat, of course. The uniform was designed to make any man look tall and fit, and when the man in question was already tall and fit, it made him look positively godlike.

“Of course,” said Mrs. Highwood, “you should not feel bad, Miss Taylor. You have snagged yourself a corporal, and that is nothing to sniff at. For a young woman in your circumstances, a corporal is a fine catch indeed. Though I do think you could have managed a lieutenant. That would have been better.”

“Would it?”

Kate couldn’t imagine any man looking fitter, stronger, or more attractive than Thorne appeared to her eyes right now. She would not have traded him for a prince.

Lately, everyone—Mrs. Highwood, Evan, even Thorne himself—kept telling Kate she belonged with a different man. Perhaps common sense would argue the same.

But her heart was saying otherwise, and she couldn’t ignore it any longer. There was a connection between them. Some bond she simply couldn’t give up.

As the militia review concluded and Sir Lewis prepared for the grand finale—his demonstration with the trebuchet—Kate couldn’t stay away.

She left the canopy and plucked the shiny brass helmet from a displayed suit of medieval armor. Jogging across the green, she presented it to Thorne. She just had to be near him.

“Here,” she said, breathless but smiling. “In case of melons.”

He took the helmet and gave it a stern glare.

“Still no laugh?” She ducked and tilted her head, trying to catch his attention. “I was hoping you’d smile, at least. Well, I suppose I’ll just have to keep trying.”

His icy eyes met hers. “Don’t.”

She winced at the curt rejection. It seemed that whatever progress they’d made in Wilmington had vanished. He was shutting the door again.

She would find a window. “I mean to stay after the fair, to help put things to rights. We need some time to talk. Alone.”

“I don’t think—”

“We need to talk. It’s important.”

She took his silence as reluctant agreement.

“Miss Taylor!”

Kate turned to see Lark careening at her like a lawn bowl. Laughing, she grabbed Kate by the hand. “I’m stealing her, Corporal. Don’t try to stop me.”

Little did Lark know, she wasn’t likely to encounter much resistance from Thorne’s quarter. He looked only too pleased to see her go.

“What is it?” Kate asked as Lark tugged her away to a quiet corner of the ruins.

“Oh, Kate.” The young lady flung her arms wide and captured her in an effusive hug. “I’ve been dying to talk to you alone. This is the perfect time, while everyone’s paying attention to the demonstration.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter. Everything’s
perfect.
Evan tells me we’re going to consider it official. He has solicitors coming down to meet you and make everything right. We’re going to claim you as a Gramercy.” Lark gave a little squeal. “We’re cousins. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“Yes,” Kate agreed, grinning. “It is.”

Lark clasped Kate’s hands, swinging them back and forth a bit. “Our holiday will be ending soon. We’ll be leaving Spindle Cove.”

“Oh. Oh, I’ll miss you all very much.”

“Goose.” Lark squeezed her hands. “You’ll come with us to Town, of course. I need you. I have ever so much shopping to do for my season, and it will be so much more fun if you’re there. Harry couldn’t care less about plumes and bonnets. I suppose I should have some actual music practice, too.”

Kate turned her head and blinked hard.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“I . . .” She tried to smile. “It’s too much to believe. I only wish I knew why you want me.”

Lark put her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “Because you’re you. And because you’re family. Family above everything.” She cast a glance toward the bailey. “Honestly, I’m not sure why you’d want us, either. We’ve little to recommend ourselves, save pots of money.”

“No,” Kate said, earnestly shaking her head. “
No.
I would want to be a Gramercy even if you were poor pig farmers on the Isles of Scilly.”

Lark laughed. “Well, Evan does pay a great deal of mind to agriculture. It’s rather a bore sometimes. Don’t worry about anything. There may be a touch of gossip, but this family has weathered many a scandal. Once the
ton
has a chance to meet you, you will only improve our overall standing, I suspect.”

Kate couldn’t quite believe that, but living with the Gramercys was social acceptance enough. When it came to the
ton,
she would simply do her best to stay out of the way.

“Oh!” Lark exclaimed. “I’m so stupid, I forgot. That’s the entire reason I wanted to speak with you today. Evan says we must keep it all quiet a few days longer. But you’ll be wanting to tell Corporal Thorne, of course. Now that you’re part of the family, he’ll be marrying into the Gramercys, too.”

Kate’s breath left her. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Goodness. If ever a man needed the acceptance of a family, it was Thorne. And despite his rocky start with Evan, if the Gramercys would so happily bring her into the fold, they would surely accept Thorne, too. Why would he want a cold, lonely cabin in the American wilderness when he could be a part of this?

But that would mean marrying him. And staying married to him, so long as they both should live. No simple prospect.

“Should you like to have the wedding at Ambervale?” Lark asked. “I thought it might be nice, since your parents were so happy there. It’s your birthplace, you know. Your true home. I know you have your own plans, but promise me you’ll discuss it with Corporal Thorne.”

“I promise you,” Kate said. “We’ll discuss it.”

“H
ave you been letting the dog chew books?”

“What?” Miss Taylor smiled. “Thorne, when I asked to speak to you alone, it wasn’t about Badger’s discipline. I told the Gramercys I’d be down to join them for dinner. We don’t have much time.”

Thorne glanced around the rapidly emptying castle grounds. The fair was over, and daylight was fading. Everyone had gone down to the village for drinks and refreshments at the Bull and Blossom.

He pulled a small green volume from his pocket and waved it at her. “I had to pull this away from the dog yesterday. It’s Lord Drewe’s, you know.” He displayed the chewed binding. “Now it’s ruined. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, don’t concern yourself overmuch. Lord Drewe has other books to read, I’m sure.”

Thorne snorted. Didn’t he know it. Fosbury had told him the marquess had two full crates of books delivered to the village, along with all his other belongings.

Two
crates
of books. What possible use could a man have for them all? The sheer puzzle of it irritated him.

And the books themselves weren’t even useful. He glared at the shredded volume. “Who the devil is . . .” He blinked and frowned at the letters again. “Ar . . .”

She took the book from him and peered at the chewed spine. “Aristotle. It’s a Greek name.”

“More Greeks? I don’t suppose he was one of the men fighting over that Helen of Troy.”

“He was a philosopher.” She sighed. “It’s not important right now.”

“It is important. You shouldn’t be letting Badger chew on these.”

“I know, I know. He must have gotten that one when I wasn’t looking.” She shrugged. “We can get a replacement. Evan won’t be angry.”

“Evan?” Thorne jerked his head in surprise. A bright red burst of irrational jealousy pulsed through him. “So he’s ‘Evan’ now?”

“Yes. That’s what I needed to tell you. It’s the most wonderful news. Lord Drewe has—”

She broke off abruptly and clapped a palm over her mouth.

A quick glance down told him why. A freshly killed rat had just been dropped at her feet, its hairless, wormlike tail still twitching.

As for the puppy who’d proudly delivered the kill—his furry tail was wagging like mad. A pink tongue dangled loose from a canine grin.

“Don’t scream,” Thorne warned her in a low, calm voice. As he spoke, he crouched beside the puppy and gave him a firm, affectionate rub. “Don’t scold him, either. You’ll only confuse him. This is a good thing.”

“This?”
she squeaked through her cupped palm, gesturing toward the lifeless rat with her free hand. “This is a good thing? I think I’m the one who’s confused.”

“After the fair, people will have left refuse everywhere around the castle. Apple cores, little morsels of cake. Draws the vermin. Badger chased down a rat, caught it, and denied himself the pleasure of eating it. That’s precisely what he’s been bred and trained to do, and now he deserves praise.”

“What do I do?” she asked, still staring wide-eyed at the lifeless rat. “Don’t ask me to touch it. I can’t possibly touch it. It’s only just stopped moving.”

“You don’t need to touch it. Just act like it’s the best, most charming thing Badger’s done in all his furry little life. And distract him, so I can toss the bleeding thing over the cliff.”

She nodded. “All right.”

While she fawned and cooed over the pup, Thorne found a shovel and disposed of the rat. Once he’d finished the work and rinsed his hands, he returned to find her cupping the pup’s funny face in both her hands.

She made kissing noises. “You are the most clever puppy in all Sussex, Badger. Did you know that? So very brave. I just adore you.”

Thorne watched her, quietly amazed. It just came so easily to her—loving encouragement. He supposed this quality was what made her a successful tutor.

She’d handled the shock of the rat quite well. Better than most ladies would, he imagined. She deserved some encouraging praise of her own—someone to frame her lovely face in his hands and tell her she was clever, beautiful, brave, adored.

But Thorne just didn’t have that talent. It wasn’t born in him, and he’d never had lessons, either. If love were music, he would be tone deaf.