The Earl of Her Dreams (18 page)

He had less than one hour to tell her he was really an earl in disguise before the evidence beat him to it.

K
ate watched as Christian closeted himself in the office with the Wickets. Benji and Sally were fetched a few minutes later, and Tom followed a few minutes after that.

Christian had said something about buying her a house. He couldn’t have been serious. But what if he was? Was he proposing something more concrete between them?

Everyone was milling about the dining and tap areas, even the servants, because it was obvious
that something important was going on. Donald Desmond’s eyes were narrowed as he surveyed the closed door and everyone in the room. His eyes narrowed further when they landed on Kate.

Kate looked away. She had already gained more attention from trailing Christian than was wise. Honestly, if she had been using her head, she would have stayed as far from him as possible. But something told her that she would have regretted that more. Regretted it more than—

“So did you and the idiot discover who did it? I hope it put a little more hair on your chest. People mistake you for a girl often, I bet.”

—her identity being discovered.

Kate gripped the bench with her left hand and tried to look unruffled as she traced the carved patterns in the table with her right forefinger. “I’m sure the Wickets will inform everyone of the proceedings soon enough, Mr. Desmond.”

“They’d better.” There was a dark, feral look in his eye. “And I want the murderer strung up by tonight. Too many servants in there to be anyone else. Which one of them did it? That bloody creep from the stables?”

“Mr. Desmond, you will find out when everyone does. You just need to wait a few minutes more.”

“No.” He stalked toward her. “I want to know now.”

He grabbed her chin and forced it up. She tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.

“Now see here, Mr. Desmond—” Elias started toward them.

Desmond pointed a finger, shaking with rage and a bit of madness. “Stay right there. I will deal with this.”

“Let the lad go, Desmond,” Tiegs said in a lazy voice.

Desmond gripped her chin for another second before roughly releasing her. “Tell me, boy.”

She started to say something scathing, but noticed the change in his eyes. He gripped her chin again and started laughing demonically.

“Oh, ho, ho. Mistaken for a girl, I had that reversed. Black isn’t a complete idiot, I see. Do this often, do you? Black like his women only when they look like men? What does that cost a gent?”

He released her chin and leaned into her space, his hands planted forward on the table, directly in front of her. A malicious smile curved his thin lips.

“Pardon me?” she asked, completely unnerved.

“Answer my question, whore.”

Kate blinked. “What?”

“I said, how much does he pay you to dress as a man?”

Kate looked around the room. Most of the people were staring in fascination at the two of them. Really, these people had had more than their fair share of entertainment these last few days. Mr. Wicket should have been charging stage fees.

A few people looked confused, while Daisy shot her a look of sympathy.

It didn’t take long for the confused, few though they were at this point, to catch on, especially after Desmond ripped her cap and head wrap from her head. Her short curls spilled free.

She heard Mrs. Crescent gasp and fought to regain her composure. Hadn’t she just admitted to herself that the adventure had been worth her discovery? Well, here it was put to the test.

Desmond grabbed her shirt and pulled her forward. “What’s your name, whore?”

She grabbed his wrist and twisted just as she’d seen Christian do. He hissed and raised his other hand. Her vision slowed. Tiegs gestured to his thugs. Elias, eyes wide and mouth open, started to lunge forward. Olivia put one slender hand to her mouth. Mrs. Crescent looked outraged, her eyes trained on Kate. And then there was nothing but a blur of flesh as Desmond’s fist descended.

Kate’s eyes closed waiting for the blow. There was a shout, and a whiff of air brushed her cheek.

“What is going on here?” Christian’s tone was low, the words perfectly enunciated, ice in every syllable.

Kate opened her eyes to see Christian’s hand closed around Desmond’s fist, mere inches from her face. Christian’s knuckles whitened, and Desmond’s mad expression turned pained as his face whitened as well.

Christian pushed him backward. Desmond clutched his fist and turned hateful eyes on him. “Your whore here was about to tell us what you pay her.”

“Kate is not my whore,” he said calmly, as if talking about the weather. “You have obviously been stuck inside too long, Desmond. Perhaps a brisk walk outside and away from this inn would do you good. Perhaps you would care to make it a permanent trip.”

“Not until I find out who murdered Julius.”

“Ah, yes. Julius’s death, an unfortunate accident. I’ll be taking it up with the constable when he returns. Mr. Wicket has promised to take care of the body so that it will be ready for burial when his parents return.”

“What about them?” He pointed at Benji, Tom, and Sally, who was partially hidden by the men.

“Ah, yes. They have key information about Mr. Janson’s accident. They will be coming with me until events are sorted out with the constable.”

“Which one of them did it?”

Christian raised a brow somehow appearing bored. “What makes you think one of them did it, Desmond?”

“It’s bloody obvious.”

“Tut, tut, swearing in front of the ladies.”

“There are no ladies here,” he sneered.

Kate took a quick peek at Mrs. Crescent and saw her ire finally switch from Kate to another target.

“Now, wait just a moment—” Mr. Crescent started to say, obviously angered.

Christian tapped a well-manicured nail on the tabletop. “I think that does it for this discussion.”

He started to turn when Desmond grabbed his coat. Christian immediately twisted his wrist, much as Kate had done, but with enviously more force.

“Under Section Five Hundred Forty-two of the Runner’s Code I could have you thrown into Newgate. Ever been to City College, Desmond? It could
teach you a whole new meaning of the word ‘bloody.’”

Despite Desmond’s twisted body position and the obvious pain, he still forged on. “Julius deserves justice. I want them strung up. One, all, I don’t care.”

Christian leaned in to whisper in Desmond’s ear, which was close enough for Kate to hear. “Listen here, you ignorant maggot, unlike you and that misbegotten bastard Julius, the rest of us don’t attack innocent women. If I see you again, I will make you very, very sorry.”

He pushed Desmond away and brushed off his sleeve. “Under Section Seven Hundred Eighty-nine of the Runner’s Code I am not allowed to reveal the details of what occurred until the full investigation has been reported to my superiors.”

He turned to address the other guests. “Be at peace, patrons, that justice has and will continue to be done. Thank you all for your cooperation in this matter. I hope everyone has a pleasant trip.”

Nickford started to clap, ignoring the way the others turned to stare at him.

The patrons and servants began to murmur to each other, and Kate saw Christian give Tom, Benji, and Sally a signal. They disappeared, probably to retrieve their belongings.

The Crescents made a beeline for Christian and Kate. Unfortunately, there was no way to escape without pushing them over.

Just as Mrs. Crescent started to open her mouth, Christian leaned in. “May I introduce my betrothed, Kate Caps.”

Kate wasn’t sure who blinked harder, the Crescents or herself.

“A veritable tizzy it was when we discovered this was the only place left to board with the weather closing in as it was, and no way to get through the storm. Kate is helping me with cases. Arrived a few days early. Somewhat of my secretary on the road, if you will.”

Kate was too shocked to react. He had just announced her as his betrothed, albeit with the wrong last name. And had he just used the word “tizzy”?

Mrs. Crescent frowned, looking somewhat irritated for being outmaneuvered. “You should have arranged for something else, Mr. Black. It isn’t done.”

And Kate knew in that instant that the door to her aunt’s home was now closed. Mrs. Crescent was just the type to socialize in the same circles as her aunt. They would assuredly meet at a function were she to actually make it to London, obtain her
inheritance, and be taken in by her aunt. Kate bowed her head.

“Be that as it may, the next time we see you, we will be a happily married pair. Good day, Mrs. Crescent. Mr. Crescent.”

Mr. Crescent stepped in Christian’s path. “Forgive my wife, Mr. Black. Perhaps we should sit down and discuss what happened?”

Ah, yes. The information gathering. Both of the Crescents planned to be first to Town to share the news.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Crescent.” Christian looked contrite. How he managed it, Kate didn’t know. He didn’t have a contrite bone in his body. “What I told Mr. Desmond stands. I am not allowed to discuss this case until I get the say-so from my superiors. Good day to you both.”

Kate saw Desmond conversing with Freewater. Desmond directed an evil stare their way as Christian herded her from the room.

“Let’s pack. I want to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Surprised, Kate let him lead the way back to the room.

Christian convinced her to dress in women’s clothes again, stating that her disguise didn’t matter anymore, and it would be better for where
they were going for her to be dressed as a female.

She put on a real bonnet, one that covered her ears. Somehow when he had pulled her hat loose, her curls had managed to keep her bad ear undetected.

Packing took little time and soon they were back in the dining area. Bess had put together food for their trip. Kate was surprised to see how much. Bess squeezed her hand. “We are thankful, miss, for what you two are doing for three of ours. Blessings to you and your betrothed.”

Olivia gave Christian and Kate a sly smile, taking in Kate’s lovely white morning dress trimmed with a cherry ribbon, and scarlet merino cloth pelisse and fur muff. “I see now why you didn’t take me up on my offer, Christian. It was very interesting meeting you both.”

Tiegs just gave an enigmatic smile, and she saw Christian put a card in his pocket after shaking Tiegs’s hand. “His Lord and Ladyship depart. Whatever shall I do for amusement now?”

Kate shook her head, partially confused, and found herself vigorously shaking hands with Nickford.

“Anytime you want to experiment again, you just let me know.”

Christian smiled. “We’ll be in touch, Nickford. I keep my promises.”

“Oh, very good, very good,” Nickford crowed.

Mr. Wicket came scrambling in, panting. “My lor—, er, Mr. Black, your carriage is outside. Everything is set.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Mr. Wicket, for your excellent hospitality. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance.”

“Oh, very good, my l—, sir. Yes, very good.”

Mr. Wicket scraped and bowed some more, leaving Kate confused and uneasy. Mrs. Wicket gushed a bit too, furthering her unease. What tales had Christian spun while talking to them?

She turned to see Freewater slumped in the corner near Desmond, two empty mugs in front of him.

After a few more well-wishings they were standing outside in front of a well-appointed carriage. Kate turned a suspicious eye to Christian.

“Come, Kate, we must be off. Very nice of Lord Canley to give the Runners the use of his carriage. In you go.”

She stared at the carriage as the last piece slid into place.

Did he think her stupid? She might have been willing to believe he had lied to the Wickets, but
when added together with all the hints he had unconsciously dropped and the concrete evidence in front of her, a new alternative seemed quite apparent. She looked him in the eye and saw an expression that was both pleading and promising. She grudgingly stepped into the expensive conveyance, Christian entering immediately after.

Neither of them saw the angry, dark eyes watching from the window.

“W
ho are you?”

The question was clipped.

He responded with his most charming smile, hiding a sigh of relief as the carriage picked up speed. She wouldn’t try to jump from a moving carriage. “I’m Christian, pleasure to meet you.”

“Christian
who
? Who are you?”

“I’m the same person you met that first night at the inn.”

Her face was tense. “Don’t play games with me. What is your real name?”

“Christian Black.”

“
Please
.” Something moved across her face, anguish or despair, and he lost all amusement.

He leaned toward her. “My name really is Christian Black. Black is our family name.” He hesitated. “My father is the Marquess of Penderdale.”

“And you?”

He sighed, leaning back into the plush pads. “I am the only surviving son, which makes me the Earl of Canley.”

“You are a peer,” she whispered.

“No, I am the heir. Unfortunately for all of us.” He grimaced.

Her eyes were intensely focused on her clutched hands. “How you must have laughed.”

“No, Kate.” He tried to take her hand, not liking the direction the conversation was taking, but she shied away.

“Did you find the situation amusing? No, don’t answer that, I know you did. Even without knowing you were an earl, I saw the arrogance. Has this all been a joke?”

“No, Kate—”

She laughed somewhat hysterically. “You called
me your betrothed. When really you should have stuck with Desmond’s claim of whore. Really, there is no need for you to escort me anywhere, Your Lordship.”

“Stop.”

To his amazement she did, though her shoulders began to shake, whether from hysteria or grief, he wasn’t sure.

“Oh, Christian. I knew there was something off about you from the beginning. But I just thought you were only the careless blood who had the world at his feet.”

Her words hurt, but he wasn’t going to let it show. “Well, there’s that too.”

She met his eyes, her gaze more piercing than usual. “Why is it unfortunate that you are the heir?”

Damn. He wasn’t sure which was worse, her upset or her ability to rally and attack his weakest points.

“Well, that is the way things work, you see.”

“No, I don’t.”

“You have two older brothers who can do no wrong, and somehow you are always the one breaking the family heirlooms and putting others in danger and getting them killed.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that.

“What do you mean? Are you referring to your mother?”

“Mother for one. Father seems to think that the deaths of my two older brothers were also my fault, as they were returning from a party that I had chosen not to attend. If I had, perhaps the accident would never have occurred or perhaps it would have been me in the ravine.”

Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.

“It’s not important. Just the curse of being the youngest,” he said flippantly and tried to adopt his most vacant expression. It always seemed to work on his father.

Kate’s eyes narrowed and she turned to the window. He had succeeded in putting her off the conversation, but the victory was hollow. Suddenly his persona chafed more than he cared to admit.

He wanted back the Kate who made him forget to use the mask. Had he lost her by not speaking to her earlier? He
knew
he should have admitted the truth to her last night. Caring what someone thought was just as frustrating as it had been before he had attended Eton and adopted his devil-may-care attitude. He couldn’t get hurt if he didn’t care.

Blast. Those walls had been bloody hard to erect in the first place. Now as he stared broodingly out
the window, he began the laborious process of reconstructing them.

Kate tried not to look at her companion. She wanted to strangle him
and
soothe his hurts. He was so capable at times; his behavior in the inn and how he had handled the people proved that. But at other times he seemed little more than a recalcitrant child. She supposed it had to do with the lousy upbringing he hinted at, but never fully divulged.

The gap between them had widened with his revelation of being an earl, and she was left standing across the chasm, waiting for the edge to crumble as she slipped inside.

When she fell had yet to be determined. “Christian, it is important.
You
are important. Do not dare think otherwise.”

He gazed at her steadily and his lips quirked. “And here I thought you were exasperated by my arrogance, Kate.”

She frowned. “You know to what I refer. And if I ever meet your father, I think I may well do him harm.”

“I hope you never have the displeasure.”

After a moment he smiled faintly. “But I do know what you mean. Or I wish to believe I do.”
He held her eyes. “My sweet Kate,” he whispered.

They lapsed into silence for a few moments, a slightly charged, but comfortable one.

She inspected the carriage while Christian frowned thoughtfully in the corner. The workmanship was beautiful. Gold filigree and gleaming squabs. Plush cushions and luxurious curtains. Just like him. Beautiful and posh.

Nothing like her. Plain and damaged.

She touched the bonnet covering her damaged ear and felt tears prick her eyes.

The journey took a little under three hours on the newly cleaned roads and they mostly discussed what it would be like to open an investigations firm. Christian’s eyes lit as he talked about what they could do with one.

The carriage slowed and swung to the right. Kate drew the curtain aside to look out the window. A magnificent drive stretched before them. Christian grew silent.

Statues and stately, mature trees lined the drive, which was covered in snow, haunting but beautiful. The structure loomed ahead, majestic yet lacking. The lines were too straight, the symmetry too perfect. No ivy curled lovingly through the stones, no snow clung where it shouldn’t. The manor said,
Look and marvel, but touch me not
. Apart from the
beauty, she couldn’t picture Christian growing up here.

The carriage stopped beneath the front portico and Kate let the curtain slip from her fingers, the cloth a shroud encasing them in shadows with only a sliver of light showing through a crack. Christian continued his silent vigil. She didn’t know how to respond to the austere grandeur of the manor or what to say to him.

A servant opened the carriage door. “My lord, good to see you.” The man turned to her and held out his hand. “Miss.”

Kate smiled awkwardly and stepped from the carriage, Christian exiting behind her. A stern elderly man, presumably the butler, engaged Christian in conversation. The man spared Kate a glance, then surreptitiously dismissed her.

The gulf between Christian and her widened. She wondered if it had been that wide all along and she had just been unwilling to see it.

House servants gathered their luggage, Christian’s surprisingly small amount of baggage and Kate’s unsurprisingly pitiful few cases. Another carriage pulled up and Kate observed Benji and Sally gaping in wonder and some apprehension. Tom merely stood with his arms crossed, as unapproachable as ever.

Christian gave instructions to the butler for Benji, Sally, and Tom to be taken around back. He held out his arm to Kate, and she reluctantly put her hand on top. He didn’t smile as they walked inside. He didn’t so much as crack an expression.

“Are you well?” she whispered as they entered a large hall dominated by a portrait of a ruthless-looking man.

“This is the house of my birth. I’d much prefer to be at my home in the north, but given our present circumstances, this will have to do,” he muttered, his tone holding a distinct chill.

She pulled to a stop. “Why are we stopping here then? Chri—I mean, Lord Canley.”

His eyes turned wintry. “Don’t refer to me as that, Kate.”

She fidgeted. “Well, I certainly can’t refer to you as Christian inside the house of your birth.”

He turned so that he was fully facing her. “I don’t care one whit what anyone else in this house thinks, Kate. You will refer to me as Christian, as you have been doing.”

She searched his face. “I don’t think that is true, Christian,” she said slowly. “I think you do care.”

His face closed and he led her forward. “I prefer not to discuss this or anything else of importance
here in the hall. Too many enemy ears. And I need to send a note to Anthony.”

“If you find it so unsettling, why are we stopping here?”

“Its close proximity to London for you, and to Anthony for me. I only plan to spend one night, maybe two at the most. You can meet with your solicitor in two days, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. That gives us plenty of time.”

“Are you going to take the journal to Anthony?”

Christian sent a surreptitious glance around the hall as they continued. “Yes.”

“You never explained why it was so important.”

“Because Anthony is more family than the ones I have by blood.” His muscles were bunched beneath her fingers. “I’d do anything for him.”

There was a lot of emotion packed into that sentence.

“But why would anyone want the journal?”

“Blackmail. Circulation for the papers. The opportunities are endless.”

“The journal is damaging enough to be used as blackmail?”

“Oh yes. But it doesn’t matter. I won’t let anyone touch it now that I have it.”

“You would do anything for your friend?”

Christian stopped at a door and turned to her. “Yes, Kate, I would.”

He opened the door and led her inside. It was a spacious room with tasteful furniture and accessories; however, there was little personality to be found. Then by chance she spotted a small chest in the corner as Christian spun her around. The chest was oddly misshapen and there were a number of strange things on top. The chest was hidden where it normally wouldn’t be seen or noticed. She would bet they were Christian’s things. Hidden beneath a carefully cultivated image, just begging to be explored. Like their owner.

The misshapen chest gave her some hope.

Christian drew her forward, lowering his lips to her neck. “Now that we are here, I suggest we don’t leave this room until we are ready to travel to Anthony’s or London.”

She tilted her head; a wave of heat and longing surged through her body. She was so confused about most everything in her life, but oddly enough not about this. She just knew that she felt safe in his arms. And that she wanted more. “What about dinner?”

“I’ll have trays sent up.”

He stopped to take off his jacket. Anthony’s
journal poked from the pocket, and he draped the jacket over top of a chair. He loosened his cravat and dropped it to the floor.

“I think I will burn these clothes.” He gestured to the clothes that had been part of the wardrobe that had never quite fit him. And as nicely tailored as they were, they were undoubtedly much less fine than what he was used to.

“And perhaps I’ll have you for dinner instead.” He touched her cheek. “And this time, Kate, I won’t let you hide in the dark.”

Kate swallowed nervously as he untied her dress. He left it hanging loose and threaded his finger through the ties of her bonnet. She pulled away as he withdrew the cap and she heard it plop on the Aubusson rug, her eyes tightly closed.

Silence.

She held in a sob, unwilling to open her eyes to see the disgust on his face.

“Kate?” His voice was low and flat.

She opened her eyes and started fumbling with the ties of her dress.

“What is this?” His voice was harsh, and she thought she detected an underlying hint of betrayal beneath.

“I’m sorry. I—I couldn’t tell you. I’ll go.”

He grabbed her wrist. “Why?”

“Because I couldn’t bear it.”

“I don’t understand.” He looked pained.

“The chandelier hit me. It caused this.”

She reached down for her bonnet, but he pulled her up and lifted her chin. There was question in his eyes and a hint of relief.

“What are you talking about?”

She stared at him. Why was he making her spell it out? “My ear.”

“So you aren’t rejecting me because of something else? This house? The situation? Or just…me?”

Kate could do nothing but blink. He thought she had rejected him when she had frozen up. That
she
was rejecting
him
.

She couldn’t reassure him; her thoughts were in too much disarray. “Aren’t you horrified?”

Christian looked at her ear and lifted a tentative finger to touch it. The light stroke sent a not unpleasant shiver through her. “It’s not your best feature Kate; I think that distinction belongs to your bright eyes or luscious lips. But horrified? No.”

She licked her lips and stared at him. Willing herself to believe him, to believe the look of need in his eyes, that he still wanted her.

Christian could be brash and careless and
sometimes insincere, but he was also warm and funny, smart, caring, and genuine.

And she was falling in love with him.

She closed her eyes.

“Kate?”

She pushed the thoughts aside and opened her eyes. “Yes?”

“Did you think that I would think the less of you because of a scar? That it would make you any less beautiful?”

Kate couldn’t answer as tears welled in her eyes. Of course she had. Her brother and Connor had claimed that she was disgusting and no one would ever want her. And Kate had been all too willing to believe it.

Now here was a man, himself a catch by any woman’s standards, who claimed she was beautiful, scars and all.

“Yes,” she whispered.

He touched her forehead and brushed a curl away. “Ah, Kate. So little faith. Have I impressed you so little?”

“No, I mean, yes, you have impressed me. I—I value your good opinion.” And that had been the trouble really. She hadn’t wanted to lose him, even though she barely had him.

He rubbed a finger along her cheek. “How could
you think that one minor flaw would make you any less desirable? It only makes you, you. And I find you irresistible.”

It wasn’t a minor flaw. She could hide it with the judicious use of hats and hairstyles, but it was far from being unnoticeable otherwise.