Chapter 19

Marcus sat in Ainsley's study, a glass of brandy clutched in his hand. He'd only stayed sober this morning so he could come and give his friend the unhappy news that he would not be marrying his sister after all.

Yesterday had been a nightmare. The ride home from the park had been a cold, silent affair. He'd retreated to strict formality with Miss Locke, made more difficult by the fresh memory of her warm body and eager response to him. Her passionate "yes" followed by that scathing "no" had driven him to kill a bottle of scotch last evening, so his head hurt abominably this morning. But less so than his heart. Best get this over with quickly and return home to another round of drink and pray for oblivion.

"Do you want me to speak to her?" Ainsley knocked back his shot and poured another.

Marcus refrained from mentioning it was scarcely eleven in the morning and held out his own glass.

"I wondered last night what had happened when she refused to go to Lady Ithorpe's masquerade. She'd been looking forward to it."

"No, don't say anything. I doubt she'll talk to either of us, and I don't want you to badger her." Why could he not have told her from the beginning? Or given up the idea once he'd become enamored of her? "She's within her rights to think herself ill-used. I fear I've hurt her deeply, for which I shall never forgive myself." Never, ever forgive himself for ruining her irreparably. "Please don't make it worse on her."

"You sound as though you care about her, Haversham." His friend contemplated him keenly while pouring another shot. "I thought this was merely a bit of business. A means to an end."

"Then you were mistaken, Ainsley." Marcus stared at the green-leaf patterned carpet as though it might hold the answer to his problem. "I wanted to make her happy. I believed, after that first evening at Lady Carrolton's, that she might come to care for me, and I for her." The thing that twisted like a knife in his heart was that she had come to love him—and as quickly to hate him all over again. She should have no problem finishing her list now.

"You care for Kate?" His friend's eyes were trained on his face.

"I love her, Ainsley." If he could have kicked himself, his footprint would be indelibly printed on his own backside. He'd been so close to winning her, to happiness he'd not imagined. Now he'd lost it all.

Ainsley watched him keenly. "You needn't worry about the debt of honor. Consider it paid, old chap."

"Hah." Marcus grunted and rose from the chair. That payment was the least of his worries now. "I'll pay it all right." He drew a sheaf of bills from his coat and tossed them on the desk. "I've had this for days. I never found a chance to give it to you, too busy enjoying the company of your sister." He winced and shot a look at Ainsley, who stared at the pile of bills, eyes impossibly wide.

"Where the devil did this come from?" He picked up the money gingerly, staring at it as though he'd never seen currency before. "Is this King's blood money?"

"No." Marcus waved him away. "I broke it off with King when I thought I'd be marrying Kate…Miss Locke."

"Then where?" He shuffled through the bills. "There's three thousand pounds here. It certainly didn't fall off a tree." Ainsley began to stack the bills before him on the desk.

"It hardly matters any more. There it is. It's yours. I'm done with it." Marcus drained his glass and set it beside the growing piles of money, his heart aching. He'd lost what had most likely been his one chance at happiness. He'd realized over the course of these past weeks that Katherine Locke was the perfect woman for him. No matter that they'd once argued like Punch and Judy, at last he'd seen the passion, and compassion, in Kate he'd always missed before. Her spirit and most generous nature toward his sister kept drawing him more and more toward her, like a moth to the destructive beauty of the flame. The pain of knowing she would never be his bride now seared like a blade on a fresh wound. Knowing he'd have to live without her ate him alive.

Ainsley had arranged the bills neatly, crossing one stack over the other.

Of course, there was a way out of this hell if he would only take it. Temptation whispered in his ear a song as sweet as it was treacherous. He'd obviously not told his friend about what had transpired at his townhouse on Saturday. If Ainsley had the least inkling he'd ruined Kate—he hated that such a loving experience could be deemed ruination—he'd insist they marry no matter how much his sister might protest. Or call him out as Kate had predicted.

Marcus looked over at Ainsley, still tallying figures in his ledger. The words were there, on the tip of his tongue. If he survived his friend's wrath, he might possibly be able to woo Kate, to make her love him once more. He cleared his throat.

Ainsley looked up from his accounting, a curious look on his face.

"I suppose I shall see you at Almack's?" He was too much of a gentleman to trap her into a marriage on the hope she might one day forgive him. He loved and respected her too much to submit her to such an existence. If worse came to worst, and she'd caught with his child, then he'd have to rethink that position.

Ainsley frowned. "You're still going about?"

"Letitia must be chaperoned." Marcus shrugged. "Aunt Alexandra has asked that I be present to help her put my sister forward. She is much better now that I took your sister's advice, but it is still not a task for a single person." It was also not a prospect he looked forward to. To attend these festive events and remember how his own hopes for happiness had been dashed would be agony.

"Are you still forbidding Lady Letitia the waltz?" His friend tried to smile, but the effort failed.

"I never forbade her." Marcus grasped the back of a red-leather office chair with a tufted back. "She begged me not to make her dance it. She said being that close to a stranger would be too embarrassing for her." He sank his fingers into the soft leather. "So I said I'd take the blame for her reluctance. That way no one could tease her about it. She could point to her ogre of a brother and be vindicated."

"Did you ever tell Kate that?" Ainsley stared at him as though he'd never seen him before.

"No, I never did." Marcus smiled, remembering their heated debates on the subject of his antiquated views on dancing. "I thought it might prove an incentive for her to try to change my mind about the waltz." He laughed mirthlessly. "You can tell her if you like. Or better still, tell her that her persuasions have borne fruit. If Letitia desires to waltz still, I have no objections." Marcus headed for the door, hoping to God Hobbs had laid in a good supply of brandy.

* * * *

"I came as soon as I received this." Celinda waved a piece of paper at her then stared at her cousin in disbelief. "What are you doing?"

Kate looked up from the piles of clothing covering her bed to find Celinda holding the familiar piece of rumpled stationery, the lines on it wandering up and down, the words blotted and splotched where tears had fallen as Kate wrote. She sniffed and dropped a stack of freshly laundered nightgowns into her open trunk. "I'm packing. Could you not read the note? I didn't think it that ill-written."

"I could make it out fine. But that doesn't answer the question of what you think you're doing." Celinda came over to the bed and stayed Kate's hands as she picked up a white morning gown.

Kate shook her off and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. They simply would not stop tearing up this morning. She hated that she could be so weak about this utter disaster. "Clarke is indisposed this morning, so I am packing up my belongings and returning to Somerset."

"In the middle of the Season? Why? For how long?" Celinda's thoroughly shocked face stopped Kate as she picked up a yellow ball gown, already folded and ready for the trunk.

"For good." After a long night of tossing, and turning, and tears, she'd risen with the dawn, determined to leave behind London and the whole wretched mess concerning the Earl of Haversham. Better to remain a spinster in the country than to have to listen to the sniggers and gossip of the ton about "poor Miss Locke who turned down her only chance at marriage. A marriage to pay off a wager is better than none at all." What did they know? Solitude in her brother's household was better than staying to such scorn and ridicule.

She dropped the yellow gown into the trunk and clenched her hands. How could she have been such a ninny? Never again would she risk her heart with a man who made her love him when he didn't love her.

"You are not serious." Celinda picked up the nightgowns and carried them back toward the open dressing room.

"Oh, yes, I am. Stop that, Celinda. Give those back to me." Kate tried to snatch the clothing out of Celinda's hands, but her cousin stepped nimbly away, holding the garments out of reach.

"Tell me what's happened. Your note said only to come and say goodbye, not why."

Kate swallowed back more tears. She didn't want to cry anymore. "Oh, Celinda, I've been such an awful fool."

Somehow, they were seated on the bed as she told Celinda everything about the courtship, the proposal, and the secret wager, though she could not bring herself to confess her gravest folly.

"Well, it wasn't actually a wager, it seems." Her cousin handed her another clean handkerchief from one of the piles they had pushed aside.

"It's just as bad," Kate wailed, mopping her face. "He agreed to marry me to pay off a debt. That's even worse. My brother practically sold me to him for three thousand pounds." She forced herself to calm her breathing. She didn't want to faint into the bargain. "I don't know which one of them I hate more."

"The problem is that you love both of them." Celinda sighed and tucked a foot underneath her. "You wouldn't be so distraught if you didn't."

"I…but… Don't be ridiculous." Kate slid off the bed, pacing to the window with angry strides. She hated Nathan for making that despicable offer and hated Marcus even more for agreeing to it. And for making her fall in love with him. Drat these tears. She hated them most for making her cry.

"I'm not being ridiculous, and you know it. Look at me and tell me you're not in love with Lord Haversham."

Kate whirled around to stare at her beautiful blond cousin, trying to decide if she didn't hate her as well. She didn't want to think about Marcus, much less talk about him. Yet she couldn't stop herself. "Whether or not I love him is beside the point. He doesn't love me." Despite what he'd confessed in the throes of passion, he couldn't truly love her if he'd agreed to marry her to pay off a debt. Her heart constricted until she could scarcely breathe each time she thought of it. "The only reason he courted me was for the wretched money."

"Hmmm." Celinda jumped to the floor, grabbed Kate's hand, and led her back to the bed. "I suspect that may indeed have been the original reason for his wooing you, but to be fair, Lord Haversham is not the first nobleman to need to marry for money. His method of doing so may have been unorthodox, but there is no shame in the motive itself. However, I also suspect his reasons changed over the course of the courtship."

"How could you think that?" Kate blew her nose, unwilling to entertain such a seductive notion.

"Because of what transpired this past Friday night." Celinda nodded, a triumphant smile on her face.

"Last Friday night?" Kate peered at her, baffled. She couldn't even remember where she'd gone that evening amidst the past weeks' whirl of activities.

"I was at Mrs. Doyle's for supper and cards." Celinda cocked her head, excitement in her eyes.

"Nathan and I attended a political dinner that night instead." Kate frowned. "What difference would that make?"

"I met Lord Finley there as well."

"I'm sure that was to your good fortune, rather than mine." Kate's frown deepened. What the devil was her cousin getting at?

"You may think differently in a moment. After supper, I was detained by our hostess then couldn't find Lord Finley until almost the end of the party." Celinda's brows dipped briefly. "That was most annoying as I wanted his company particularly that evening. Papa is being difficult again about the man I wish to marry." She gave herself a little shake and smiled at Kate. "Anyway, when I finally found him again, he apologized most abjectly and told me he'd been caught up in a very spirited game of Bezique with Lord Haversham."

Kate sniffed. "I'm sure that's no concern of mine."

"Oh, but it is, my dear." Celinda drew closer to her. "Lord Finley said he'd have to be careful when playing with Lord Haversham in the future, for the man was uncannily good at the game and had trounced him soundly."

Kate swallowed, trying to moisten her suddenly dry mouth. "Did he say how much he'd lost?"

"Not to me, no, but the very next day, Lord Carmichael, who's in the same club as Lord Finley, told Lady Carmichael, who told Lady Margery Scopes, who told Mrs. Hatcherd, who my maid Cutter overheard tell my mother that Lord Finley had lost five thousand pounds and paid it without blinking an eye." Celinda's triumphant voice rang in Kate's ears. "I am so happy that Mamma heard this because now she can confirm what I've told her about Lord Finley's assets, and she can tell Papa. A man who can lose that much without flinching must be well set up financially. Papa must see that in a favorable light." Her cousin finished her recitation and beamed at Kate.

"You're sure it was five thousand pounds Lord Finley lost?" Kate's hands had grown damp, and she wiped them on her skirt, heedless of the stain. If this was true, Marcus had gained a fortune the day before they'd made love. At that moment, he hadn't needed to marry her to pay his debt to Nathan. And if he hadn't planned to marry her, he wouldn't have allowed that tryst to happen. She might believe many horrible things about him, but she would swear on her life he was an honorable gentleman above all.

"I suspect Lord Haversham may have begun courting you with an eye to cancelling the debt but fell in love along the way." Celinda's cornflower blue eyes twinkled. "Why would he propose to a woman he loathed if there was no need?"

Could that be true? A flicker of hope began to thaw the icy ring surrounding her heart. If Marcus had no feelings for her at all, wouldn't he have simply paid Nathan as soon as he received the funds? She glanced at Celinda. "There was another reason for his proposal."

Her cousin cocked her head. "What reason?"

"The ultimate reason a gentleman would need to marry a lady." Kate blushed to the roots of her hair.

Celinda's eyes grew big and round and her jaw dropped open. "Kate, you didn't!"

Nodding, Kate sat on the bed. "Saturday afternoon, we were supposed to go to the park, where I thought he was going to propose. But we ended up at his house instead and…"

"Did he seduce you?" Celinda whispered, even though they were quite alone.

"I suppose I seduced him." How she'd been so bold she had no idea. Except she'd wanted Marcus so very badly.

"Was it awful?"

"It was the most wonderful thing, Celinda." Without a doubt, she'd never wish to experience it with any other man. "You must marry Lord Finley as quick as you can."

"Well, you didn't wait for marriage." Her cousin gave her a stern look.

"And I would not recommend doing what I did." Even though she wasn't sorry. Especially if Marcus truly loved her. "He wouldn't have allowed us to…do that if he didn't really wish to marry me. Do you think? He already the dibs to get him out of the River Tick." She wanted to believe it with all her heart.

"Lord Haversham is an honorable gentleman. I'd wager my best hat on that." Celinda laughed gleefully. "And you know how fond I am of my hats. I believe you are going to be very happy together."

"Somehow I doubt that." Kate frowned, not yet convinced. Marcus still had much to answer for. "He made an agreement with my brother to woo me without consulting me whatsoever. How would you like that?"

Her cousin shrugged. "I suppose if I loved the man, I wouldn't mind so much."

"Well, I mind very much." She slid off the bed and began to pace, seeking distraction from the ache in her heart.

"Do you truly want to throw away your happiness, cousin, because the man made a mistake?" Celinda followed her and grabbed her arm. "Do you love him?"

Miserably, Kate met her eyes. "I've been trying to convince myself all night that I don't." With a sob, she threw herself into Celinda's arms. "But I do."

"Then forgive him and be happy."

Kate stared at her cousin, thinking hard. Could she forgive him for his deception? If he loved her—and in her heart, she knew it to be true—she would be a fool not to. Who would fling their happiness away with both hands? Did she love him enough to swallow her pride, go to Marcus and say, "I understand, and I forgive you?" That would be easy enough if she just let go of her anger…

"But what if he will not forgive me ?" A horrible sinking feeling filled her with dread. "I refused him, Celinda." Memory of that refusal, of her hurtful words, turned the blood in her veins to ice. "I said truly awful things to him." She bit her lip. "What should I do? Tell Nathan? Or write to Marcus? Ask if he will see me?"

"Oh, I don't think you need bother with that. He's here right now."

"What?" Her head spun.

"I saw his curricle out front when I arrived."

Kate's heart pounded in her chest. Dared she go down and face him? "What if he doesn't want me anymore?"

"Do you still want him?" Celinda leaned toward her, hanging on her every word.

"Yes, yes, I do." Kate trembled, tears gathering in her eyes once more. Could happiness be so close and yet lost to her? "I thought so even before he kissed me at Vauxhall. But after we were intimate—"

Celinda clutched her arm, a sudden gleam in her eye. "He kissed you at Vauxhall?"

* * * *

"So, will I see you this evening?" Ainsley came from behind his desk, glass still in hand.

"You shall." Marcus bit his lip but asked anyway. "Will your sister…?"

"I highly doubt it." Ainsley glanced into his glass and grimaced. "She's not spoken to me since yesterday, but her maid Clarke informed me first thing this morning that Kate had requested her trunks be brought to her rooms. I believe she's preparing to take her maid and retire to my estate in—"

"Is he in here?"

The muffled sounds of a woman's raised voice penetrated the oak door a moment before it burst open, and Kate Locke strode in. Her auburn hair lit up like a flame in the afternoon sunlight and her eyes gleamed when they fell on him.

Marcus staggered back, his heart in his throat.

"Kate! What the devil is the meaning of this outburst?" Ainsley scowled, going toward his sister as though to ward her off.

Marcus sighed, drinking in the sight of her, savoring each moment that might be his last for a very long time.

"Aha. He is here, Celinda."

On Kate's heels came Lady Celinda Grantham. She fixed her stare on him as well but gave him a wink. What the deuce did that mean? What was going on now?

Kate stretched out her arm, pointed her finger at him, and in a voice dramatic enough to rival Sarah Siddon's Lady Macbeth announced, "Nathan, I demand that you make Lord Haversham marry me."

Marcus blinked, looking from Kate, whose eyes blazed, to her brother, whose mouth hung open.

"What?" Ainsley finally managed. He kept his attention on his sister, though he glanced at Marcus, eyebrows raised. "What the deuce is going on, Kate?"

"I said you must make Lord Haversham marry me."

"I must? But why?"

Kate arched her neck and lifted her chin. "Because he kissed me—in front of witnesses."

"He did what?" Ainsley turned the color of new cheese.

Marcus gripped the back of the nearest chair. He'd hoped to keep those kisses—and everything else—a secret so Kate wouldn't be obligated to a man she detested. So why was she literally shouting about it and demanding he marry her? Could she have had a change of mind? Or was this some wild ploy to disgrace him once again? Best err on the side of caution. "I believe Miss Locke is mistaken."

"No, she is not." Lady Celinda stepped forward, a smile still playing over her lips. "A woman knows when she's been kissed, my lord, unless the man is very inept, which I would wager you are not. Not based on what I saw at Vauxhall."

"You saw us?" Dear God. How could Lady Celinda have been able to see anything on that dark path? She'd been with his sister at the fireworks.

"So you did kiss her?" Ainsley rounded on him, anger darkening his face.

"Well, yes, I did, but I thought at the time I was marrying her." Marcus ran a hand over his face. The morning had taken on a nightmarish quality.

"You are absolutely correct about that, Haversham. If there were witnesses to your depraved behavior, you will be saying ‘I do' immediately after the third set of banns is read." Ainsley had puffed his chest out, the very picture of the vengeful brother.

"Just a moment, Ainsley." He couldn't let this go so easily. "I think I should be able to speak on behalf of Miss Locke and myself." He turned to Kate.

She stared at him, her wide blue eyes pleading. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head and mouthed, "Forgive me."

Marcus's head reeled. Abruptly, he strode forward, grasped her head in his hands and sank his mouth onto hers. The warmth of her lips spread through him, from mouth to chest and then lower, the most welcome, satisfying sensation he'd ever known. He could do nothing save stand there and devour her. Let the world go hang.

"Humph." Ainsley gruffly cleared his throat.

Marcus finally broke the kiss, his heart thrumming with contentment when Kate laid her head on his chest. He raised an eyebrow and met Ainsley's eyes over her bright head. "That was for insurance."