Lady Midnight (42 page)

"Just call me Brunhilde," she murmured. A tiny ghost of a smile touched the edge of his lips. Then, just as that tingling sensation started again, she felt a hand close over her arm and she was jerked back. The crowd quickly closed around him, and he was lost to her sight.

It was Mary who held Christina by the arm, Mary who dragged her toward the door. For such a slender woman, Mary was uncommonly strong, and Christina couldn't stop her forward momentum. Not even when she tried to dig her slipper heels into the carpet.

"Mary!" she cried. "Let go! Whatever are you doing?"

"I am taking you with me to Lindley House," Mary answered sternly. "The carriage is waiting."

"I don't
want
to go to Lindley House! I have to find Mrs. Brown...."

Mary wheeled around and caught Christina's other arm with her free hand. She shook Christina until her teeth rattled. "You will not see that harlot again! A young girl does not belong in that den of vice your brother has created. It's too late for me, but
you
can escape!" She whirled back around, dragging Christina behind her out the front door and into the waiting carriage. Christina was so stunned by Mary's outburst she couldn't bring herself to break away. "I've had enough of the men in this family, do you hear me?
Enough."

Christina could only huddle miserably in the corner of the carriage, watching as the Hollingsworths' house, Michael and Mrs. Brown, and the dark man receded away from her.

* * *

She was
alive!

Julian paced the length of the Hollingsworths' library, unable to sit or stand still for even a moment. His Katerina was alive, and he had never felt so alive himself as he did at that instant. He had felt numb, cold, ever since he awoke in that damnable convent hospital. Not even coming back to England, to his sister and the lost threads of his life, could warm him. Only the sight of Katerina, laughing and smiling, so vibrantly beautiful, made
him
feel alive, too. Warmth and joy flooded through his very veins.

It was a miracle, unheard of outside the pages of novels. Now all of his lost dreams could be resurrected once again. He had his love, his life, back.

If only these blasted people would let him go to her!

Julian spun around to fix an icy glare on Nicholas Hollingsworth. The man had placed his chair right before the library door, so Julian would have to literally toss him aside to get out. Two years ago, Julian would not have hesitated to give him the thrashing he deserved. But now, weakened by his long illness and faced with Hollingsworth's sun-browned good health, he knew he could not. A futile fight would only lengthen the time he was apart from his Beatrice.

Nicholas Hollingsworth just grinned, and lit up one of his foul cigars.

"You have no right to keep me in here," Julian growled. "I must go to her! We have been apart too long as it is."

"Keep you here?" Nicholas answered affably. "Nonsense, Sir Julian. I am merely trying to be a good host. The crush out there has become unbearable, wouldn't you say? Why, ladies were even fainting! Care for a cigar? Or perhaps a brandy?"

Julian's temper raged out of control at the man's light indifference. Nicholas Hollingsworth had no understanding of real love, of what Julian had found! He lunged toward the door, only to be brought up short when Nicholas swooped from his chair to catch him in an iron grip. He pushed Julian back onto a settee and leaned against the door, arms crossed.

"You don't understand, Hollingsworth," Julian said, his thoughts burning with a frantic need. "I love that lady. I've thought she was dead this year and more. We deserve to be together now."

Nicholas shook his head. "Oh, believe me, Sir Julian, I understand about love. And I'm sorry for your grief. But I would say that the lady was not quite so overjoyed at your reunion. In fact, I would say that the expression that crossed her face right before she fainted could best be described as horror."

Horror?
Certainly not. His princess was as happy to find him again as he was to find her. Or she would be—once this barbarian allowed him to see her. "She was overcome by the shock. She, too, believed me dead."

Nicholas shrugged. "I daresay. But the doctor is with her now, and my wife left instructions Mrs. Brown was not to be disturbed. By anyone. You would not want to disobey, Sir Julian—you would find I am a tame kitten compared to my leopard of a wife."

Julian subsided back onto the settee, surveying Hollingsworth with narrowed eyes.
Mrs. Brown,
was it? For the first time since he had seen her that night, some of his joy gave way to new questions. Where had his Beatrice been all this time? How had she lived? How had she come to be in London?

"Tell me, Hollingsworth," he said softly. "Who was that man with—Mrs. Brown? The one who looked like a country squire."

Nicholas lit another of his cigars, sending the noxious blue smoke out into the room. "That is my friend Mr. Michael Lindley, younger brother of the Earl of Darcy. The young lady you were speaking to is his sister, Lady Christina Lindley. I have only met Mrs. Brown—or whatever her name might be—a few days ago. She is governess to Lady Christina, and, I understand, is Mr. Lindley's prospective bride."

Bride?
Julian's hands clenched into fists against the brocade of the settee. Well—that was all before tonight. Now everything was changed. For all of them.

A sharp, frantic knock sounded at the door. "Julian?" his sister Charlotte's voice called. "Julian, are you in there?"

Nicholas gave Julian a questioning glance. "That is my sister," Julian said irately. Really, the man was too much—like a bullyboy at Eton who had never grown out of it. "Lady Stoke. If you would be so kind as to let her in."

Nicholas stepped aside and opened the door. Charlotte practically fell into the room, in a flurry of blue and green silk and feathers. Her cheeks were flushed almost to the color of her auburn hair. She swept right past Nicholas and alighted on the settee next to Julian.

"Oh, my dear," she said breathlessly. "Such an
on-dit!
Talk is positively
racing
about the drawing room. By the morning, everyone in Town will know of it. Who is that woman with Mr. Lindley? Why did she faint when she saw you? Who would have thought
my
brother could be so Byronesque? Tell me everything, Julian, right now. Is she the reason you have been so blue-deviled since you came here?"

Julian glanced over her plumed headdress at Nicholas Hollingsworth. Hollingsworth, damn his eyes, gave them an ironic little bow and backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

But this was not over. Not nearly.

Chapter 23

Michael stared at the closed bedroom door in front of him, as if by simply
willing
it to open, it would immediately vanish and he would be where he belonged—at Kate's side.

Yet it remained firmly shut. When the doctor arrived, Michael had a swift glimpse of Kate in the elaborately draped bed, pale and small against the silk counterpane. Then she disappeared, and he was alone in the darkened corridor where Elizabeth had pushed him, saying that the doctor needed room to work and Kate needed quiet.

Quiet
—he scarcely remembered the meaning of the word. Not since Kate burst into his ordered life like a comet trailing sparks of vivid color. All culminating in the grand explosion tonight, an eruption of drama, Kate sinking into his arms—a strange man reaching out for her.

What claim could that gloque have on Kate? Who was he?

Michael groaned and leaned his head back against the silk-papered wall. There was only one person the man
could
be—the one Kate had spoken of, the man who had tried once to buy her. But Michael knew now that the man's feelings went beyond those of a rake for his plaything possession. Love and joy were written clear on his face as he stared at Kate.

Michael understood perfectly what it felt like to love Kate—and what hell it would be to lose her. But he remembered the way she shivered when she spoke of her erstwhile suitor, the old fear lurking in her eyes. Michael would kill the man if he came near Kate again.

There was the soft hum, the kinetic rise and fall, of voices coming from below as the company made its slow way out of the Hollingsworth house and into the night, seeking other amusements. Other venues in which to spread the tale of the scandalous sights they had seen this night. Gossip would be rife, of course, speculation high. The actually rather small incident would become larger and more lurid with every telling. His mother and Mary would be furious, though hopefully it would not keep Mary from taking care of Christina this evening. He had glimpsed them standing together as he carried Kate from the drawing room, and it was one less concern on a night crowded with them.

He did care about the gossip, of course. He had spent years trying to live down the antics of his own youth, to make his name respectable once again. But any tittle-tattle, any scandal, was not a spot against Kate's being harmed.

Damn that man, whoever he was! He would not hurt Kate—he would not come into their lives. Michael would not allow it.

The bedroom door opened quietly, and he leaped up from his seat as Elizabeth slipped into the corridor. The talk from below had ceased; all the salon goers were gone.

"She will wake soon," Elizabeth said softly. "The doctor says she will be fine. She's just had a shock, and will need rest and quiet."

"May I take her home?" he asked hoarsely. By
home
, he did not know if he meant the Prices' leased town house or Thorn Hill, or someplace very far away indeed. He would take her anywhere she could be at peace.

"Soon, when she has fully awakened. Now I must go back. The doctor will need my assistance. I just wanted to tell you she will be fine, Michael." She paused, peering up at him with her discerning brown eyes. "You must love her a great deal."

"I do. More than I can say."

Elizabeth nodded. "Then all will be well." She gave a little laugh. "What's a bit of scandal next to true love, after all? As Nick and I know well."

She started to turn away, but Michael caught her hand to stay her for just a moment. "Lizzie—who is that man?"

"Sir Julian Kirkwood," she answered. "It was quite the
on-dit
when he reappeared in London. Everyone had thought him drowned in a boating accident in Italy. Such a tragedy. The Duke of Salton died there, you know, along with his mistress and her young daughter. So very sad. But Sir Julian, it seems, was the only survivor."

She gave his hand a small squeeze before making her way back to the bedroom. And Michael was left alone with his own seething heart.

* * *

Kate slowly blinked her eyes open, to find herself staring up at the ceiling of an unfamiliar chamber. A painted ceiling arched overhead, a scene of cavorting cupids against a blue sky. It was probably charming in the daylight, but in the light of flickering candles it was sinister. She lay prone on a soft counterpane, her aching head pillowed on feather cushions. Where was she?

A hand, bony but gentle, reached for her trembling wrist, holding it as if to check her pulse. Kate carefully shifted her head on the pillow to see an elderly gentleman sitting next to the bed, his bald dome of a head shining in the candlelight.

He gave her a smile when he saw her watching him. "Ah, so you are awake, young lady? Good, very good. Your pulse is stronger, too. I would say the danger is past. But perhaps I should bleed you just to be sure."

"You are a doctor?" Kate whispered. She felt as though her mouth were full of straw.

"Yes, I am Dr. Fielding. Lady Hollingsworth sent for me when you fainted." He released her wrist to gesture toward the foot of the bed.

Kate shifted her gaze to see a dark-haired lady sitting there, a shawl tossed over her white-and-silver evening gown. And then Kate remembered
everything.
The salon, which had started out so very promising. The paintings, the music. And the arrival of Sir Julian Kirkwood, whom she had long thought dead. The shock of seeing him was paralyzing, and any vague, fantastic hope that he would not recognize her or remember her was shattered when he called her name.

Katerina.

Kate moaned and sat straight up in bed, her panicked gaze darting into the darkened corners, as if
he
was lurking there. Waiting to grab her and snatch her back into the past.