Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

As Kate watched in horror, Samuel tightened his grip on the quarterstaff. He held it in two hands, braced across his chest, parallel to the floor.

An inhuman growl originated somewhere low in his gut, building strength as it clawed its way up through his chest.

He was going to charge Evan. And dazed, unarmed, unwitting Evan wouldn’t have a chance.

“Samuel, no!” Kate dashed to intercept him, gripping the quarterstaff with both hands.

She made eye contact, hoping he’d know her.

It’s me. Come back.

Something flashed in his blue, unfocused gaze—but what it was, she couldn’t tell.

The primal growl building deep in his chest now erupted from his throat. With a hoarse cry he lifted the quarterstaff, swinging both weapon and Kate with violent force, slamming her against the nearest wall.

Several ladies screamed.

Kate couldn’t have screamed if she’d tried. The impact knocked all air from her lungs. For a moment she floated loose in her own body—robbed of sensation, of presence. She didn’t feel any pain—not yet. But she was certain it must be coming. An impact that strong must have broken her somewhere. Her spine, perhaps. A few ribs at the very least.

Then a dizzying rush of air entered her lungs. Her vision sharpened. She could breathe again, freely. The pain still hadn’t arrived.

After a moment’s reflection she understood why. He’d slammed her not against the flat wall, but into a niche. As the quarterstaff was much wider than the recessed alcove, the beams on either side had taken the impact. She was unharmed.

Unharmed, but shaken to her marrow.

If he’d thrown her mere inches to either side, the full force of the quarterstaff would have crashed into her rib cage—wounding her, surely. Killing her, possibly. But even in his darkest, most unthinking moment, Thorne had protected her from himself.

He’d saved her. Now she had to return the favor.

She ignored the room packed with onlookers. She ignored the quarterstaff holding her pinned into the narrow niche. She kept her gaze locked with his. He was far away, and she had to bring him home.

“It’s all right,” she said, speaking in the lowest, most soothing tone she could manage. “Samuel, it’s me. Katie. I’m unharmed, and so are you. You were having a disagreement with Lord Drewe here at Summerfield. But it’s over now. It’s all over. There’s no danger anymore.”

She caught a flicker of awareness in his eyes. He drew a sharp breath.

“Yes,” she encouraged him. “Yes, that’s it. Come back. Back to me. I love you.”

If only she could touch him, it might make all the difference. But the quarterstaff kept them apart.

“Let her go.” Evan appeared at Samuel’s side, pressing a blade to his throat and undoing all Kate’s efforts of the past minute.

“Evan, don’t. Please. You’ll make it worse.”

“Get the hell away from her,” he growled at Thorne.

“You don’t understand, Evan. He didn’t hurt me. He would never hurt me.” She ignored her cousin then and focused on Thorne again, staring deeply into his eyes. “Samuel, you must come back to me. Now. I need you here.”

That did it.

His breathing steadied and recognition smoothed the creases in his brow. His eyes focused—first on her face, then on the quarterstaff and their position against the wall.

“Oh, Jesus,” he breathed. Anguish tweaked his voice. “Katie. What did I do to you?”

“Nothing,” she assured him. “Nothing but remove me from the path of harm. I’m fine.”

“Bollocks,” said Evan. “You could have killed her.”

“Don’t believe him,” Kate said. “I know the truth. You didn’t hurt me at all. You’d never hurt me.”

Bram appeared then, reaching for the quarterstaff. “Stand down, Thorne. The fight’s over.”

Samuel nodded, still clutching the weapon tight. “Yes. It’s all over.”

“Don’t say that,” Kate pleaded, pushing against the staff that kept her pinned. She needed to touch him, to hold him tight. If only she could get her arms around him, she could change his mind.

He seemed to know it, too.

“I can’t risk it,” he whispered, holding her off. “I can’t. I love you too much. I thought I could make myself into the man you need—a husband fit for a lady—but . . .” His face twisted as he swept a tormented gaze down and then up her body. “Look at this. I don’t belong in this world anymore. If I ever did.”

“Then we’ll go find another world,” she said. “Together. I’d give up everything for you.”

He shook his head, still holding her off. “I can’t let you do that. You say this life doesn’t matter, but if I take you from it . . . you’ll come to resent me, in time. I’ll resent myself. Family means so much to you.”

“You mean more.”

“Drewe,” he said, still staring into Kate’s eyes, “how soon could you marry her?”

“Tomorrow,” Evan answered.

“And you’ll protect her? Against rumor, scandal. Against those who would treat her ill or use her for her fortune.”

“With my life.”

“Samuel, no.” Kate fought back tears.

He nodded, still looking at her. “Then do it. I’ll leave England as soon as I know it’s done. As soon as I know she’s safe.”

“I won’t marry him,” Kate objected. “And Samuel, you won’t let it happen. You say this now, but do you mean for me to believe you’ll sit in the pews of St. Ursula’s tomorrow morning and watch, while I walk down the aisle with another man?”

At that, he hesitated.

“You wouldn’t let it happen. I know you wouldn’t.”

The argument seemed to make some inroads.

But unfortunately, they took him in the wrong direction.

“Bram,” he called.

“Still here,” Lord Rycliff answered.

“When you were shot in the knee, you made me swear, right there on the battlefield, that I wouldn’t let them take your leg.” Samuel spoke in a firm, controlled voice. “No matter what the surgeons said, no matter if you hovered at death’s threshold. Even if you lost your mind with delirium. I swore I wouldn’t let them amputate, and I didn’t. I sat by your bedside with a pistol cocked, scaring off anyone with a saw. When they threatened me with court-martial, even when my own powers of reason argued against it . . . I stayed true to my word.”

Bram nodded. “You did. I’m forever in your debt.”

“You’re going to repay me now.”

“How?”

“Lock me in the village gaol. In irons, tonight. And no matter what happens—even if I rage or plead—give me your word right now that you won’t release me until she’s married. Swear it.”

“Thorne, I can’t—”

Samuel turned to him. “Don’t question. Don’t look at anyone else. This is you and me, and a debt you owe. Just do as I ask, and swear it.”

Lord Rycliff relented. “Very well. You have my word. You can release her now.”

“Get the irons first.”

“For goodness’ sake, Samuel!” Kate struggled again. “What are the chances that a pair of irons are just hanging about?”

She had forgotten to consider that in Sir Lewis Finch’s house, the chances were apparently quite good. Someone produced a pair of iron cuffs, connected by a heavy chain.

Lord Rycliff opened one manacle and fitted it around Samuel’s wrist.

Samuel stared deep into her eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For lighting up for me, just the once. That was worth everything.”

Kate growled and kicked him in the shin—not that her bare foot could do much damage. “Don’t pretend this is romantic, you stubborn, foolish man! If I didn’t love you so much, I’d vow to hate you forever.”

In response, he pressed an infuriating kiss to her brow.

Once the other cuff was fastened, he let go of the quarterstaff and released her.

Then he walked away in chains.

“Iwon’t let it happen.”

Lark stood in the center of the Queen’s Ruby parlor, looking as firm-chinned and resolute as Kate had ever seen her.

“Kate,” she said, “I love you dearly, but if you try to marry my brother today, I will stand up in the middle of St. Ursula’s and object.”

“Chicken,” Harry soothed, “it’s not yours to say. Evan and Kate are adults. Besides, the vicar will only be interested in your objection if it presents a legal impediment. There is none.”

“There’s an emotional impediment,” Lark argued. “Kate can’t marry Evan. She’s in love with Corporal Thorne.”

Kate squeezed her eyes shut. Of course she was in love with Thorne. If she weren’t completely, eternally in love with him, she wouldn’t feel so miserable sitting here this morning, discussing the possibility of marrying another man.

Her heart ached. Somewhere nearby, Samuel was in irons, locked up like an animal in a cage. He’d spent the entire night in gaol.

She knew how he’d suffered as a youth in prison. He should never have been subjected to confinement again, not even for one night. She was desperate to see him released, and he must have known she’d feel this way. He was holding himself ransom, and the price he demanded was her wedding to another.

The stubborn, impossible man. And to believe common wisdom, women were the sex prone to dramatics?

Lark continued, “What’s more, Evan can’t marry Kate. What about Claire?”

“Claire?” Harry echoed. “My dear pigeon, Claire is several years in the grave.”

“But he loved her once. That’s all I’m saying. He might fall in love again.”

“Let’s hope not,” Harry muttered.

Lark confronted her sister. Anger burned red on her cheeks. “Really, Harriet. Our brother defended you when you broke three loveless engagements. He has supported you in your attachment to Ames. And this is how you repay him? By encouraging him to enter a marriage of convenience and hoping he never loves again?”

As she absorbed Lark’s censure, Harry’s eyebrows rose. “My my, starling. You are growing up so fast.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair, then stood. “Very well, I’ll object, too.”

“Your objections won’t be necessary, I hope.” Kate lifted Badger into her lap and drew him close. “I’ve no intention of marrying Evan, if it can possibly be helped. There must be some other way.”

But even as she spoke the words, she doubted them. What other way could there be? All night long she’d been thinking on the dilemma. She’d exhausted all her powers of logic, imagination, and desperation, and still no solution had come to her.

“Harry and I tried appealing to Evan,” Lark said. “If he withdrew his offer to Kate, Corporal Thorne would have to back down. But he won’t budge, either.”

“He feels too guilty,” Harry said to Kate. “He’s determined to give you the life you deserve, he says.”

“But you all have given me so much already,” she said. “You sought me out and welcomed me with open arms, even knowing it would change your lives in uncertain ways. Your kindness and faith in me has been remarkable, and I . . . I love you all for it.”

“Oh, dear.” Across the room, Aunt Marmoset pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh dear, oh dear.”

“Aunt Marmoset, what is it? Not your heart?”

“No, no. My conscience.” The old woman looked to Kate with red, teary eyes. “I must tell you the truth. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault that you were lost, dear. You mustn’t feel beholden to us. I shouldn’t blame you if you took all the family money and cast us out in the cold.”

Kate shook her head, utterly confused. “I don’t understand. Cast you out in the cold? I’d never do such a thing.”

Lark patted her aunt’s hand. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that, Aunt Marmoset.”

“But it is. It is.” The old woman accepted a handkerchief from Harry. “After Simon died and your father inherited the title, I came to Rook’s Fell. My sister needed me. You weren’t even born yet, Lark. But Harry—surely you must remember that time. How difficult it was.”

Harry nodded. “It was the year Father’s illness began. There were so many doctors, coming and going. I remember Mother’s face was always grim.”

“Your lives had changed so much, so swiftly. A new home, new titles, new responsibilities. I took over the running of the household. I oversaw the servants, attended to correspondence. I received any guests to the house . . .” She paused meaningfully. “So I was there the day Simon’s lover came back, babe in arms. And I sent her away.”

“What?”

At the words, Kate felt as though she’d been dunked underwater. The air felt slow and thick around her. Cold. Her vision went wavy and a dull pulse throbbed in her ears.

She couldn’t breathe.

“You sent her away?” Lark’s voice echoed from a great distance. “Aunt Marmoset. How could you do such a thing?”

Kate forced herself to surface, to listen.

“You’ve no idea,” Aunt Marmoset said. She wrung Harry’s handkerchief. “You’ve no idea how many charlatans crawl out of every ceiling crack after a marquess dies. Every day, I was chasing another away. Some came claiming his lordship owed back wages or gambling debts, others said that his lordship had promised them a living. More than one girl showed up with an infant in her arms. Liars, all. When Elinor arrived and claimed to have married him . . . I didn’t believe her. A marquess, marry a tenant farmer’s daughter? Preposterous. I never suspected, until the day we found the parish register, that the girl might have been telling the truth.”

Kate’s fingers went to the pendant dangling at her breastbone. She skimmed her fingertips over the polished teardrop of stone, begging the glossy smoothness to calm her emotions. “So that’s why you had her pendant. You took it from her. You had it all along.”

Aunt Marmoset nodded. “She offered it as some sort of proof. I didn’t see what meaning it should have, just a chip of stone. I did save it, however, in case she came back. But she never did. She never went to the solicitors. She disappeared.”

Lark paced the room, clearly struggling to contain her emotions. “Why didn’t you tell us the truth weeks ago?”

“I was ashamed,” the old woman said. “And what was done was done. I didn’t see how it could do any good to relate the story now. We all agreed to make it right for Kate. We were going to welcome her to the family, give her all she was due. But then last night, when you told us about the bawdy house . . .” Aunt Marmoset’s tears renewed. “Oh, it was my fault. I was so sharp with the girl. When she asked me where she should go or how she should live, I . . . I told her she wouldn’t get a penny from us, and she should go live like the slattern she was.”

“Oh, no.” Kate covered her mouth with her hand. “You didn’t.”

Kate stared at Aunt Marmoset, uncertain what to say or do. In the past weeks, she’d come to think of this woman as . . . as the closest thing to a mother she would likely ever know. And now to learn she’d been turned away, even as an infant.

For a moment she was back in Miss Paringham’s sitting room, swallowing dishwater tea and dodging blows from a cane. No one wanted you then. Who on earth do you think will want you now?

“I’m so sorry,” Aunt Marmoset said. “I know you may never forgive me, and I’ll understand if you don’t. But I’m so fond of you, dear.” She sniffed. “I truly am. I love you like one of my own. If I’d only known that my moment of peevishness would have such dire consequences . . .”

“You didn’t know,” Kate found herself saying. “You couldn’t have known. I don’t blame you.”

“You don’t?”

She shook her head honestly. “I don’t.”

Miss Paringham’s scornful words that day hadn’t altered the course of her life. She doubted a few moments’ ugliness from Aunt Marmoset had been enough to determine her mother’s entire future. For Elinor to grow so desperate, more than one door must have been closed in her face. Or perhaps she’d simply been unwilling to live by others’ rules. Kate would never know.

Aunt Marmoset clasped Kate’s hand. “Do you know how she responded that day, when I turned her away?”

Kate shook her head. “Tell me, please. I want to know everything.”

“She lifted her chin, bade me a good day. And she walked away, smiling. She kept her dignity, even after I’d lost mine.” The older woman’s papery hand squeezed Kate’s. “You have so much of your mother’s fire.”

Your mother’s fire.

At last, Kate had a name for that small flame warming her heart. She did have something of her mother. She’d carried it inside her all along, and it was more precious than a memory of her face or a verse her mother might have sung. She had the courage to smile in the face of cruelty and indifference—to clutch her dignity tight when she had nothing else. That inner fire was how she’d survived.

She would find an answer to this situation, and it would not involve marrying anyone. Anyone other than Samuel, that was.

“Should we tell Evan this?” she asked. “Perhaps he’d feel less obligated to marry me if he knew that—”

“Less obligated?” Harry cried. “Surely you know him better than that, Kate. If Evan hears of this, he’ll have us scraping your shoes in penance. He’ll dress Lark in sackcloth and ashes for her debut. He will certainly not feel less obligated.”

Kate chewed her lip, knowing Harry was right.

She did have one last source of hope, however. Susanna. Perhaps Susanna could make Lord Rycliff see sense and release Samuel from the gaol.

Just then, Susanna and Minerva entered through the parlor door. Badger scampered to the floor as Kate stood to welcome them.

Susanna wasted no time on pleasantries. “It’s no good, I’m afraid.”

“He won’t be moved?” Kate asked, deflating back into her chair. “Oh no.”

Susanna shook her head with so much agitation, her freckles blurred. “What good is a ‘code of honor’ if it flies in the face of all common sense? Bram insists that he’s bound to do as Thorne asks, even if he personally disagrees. He won’t hear any argument. It’s all wrapped up in pride and brotherhood and his wounded leg. I tell you, whenever that dratted leg is concerned, Bram’s impervious to reason. If the man ever had a sensible bone in his body, it must have been his right kneecap.”

She sat down next to Kate. “I’m so sorry. I tried my best.”

“I know you did.”

Minerva added, “I considered asking Colin speak to him, as a last resort. But I worried it might work against us.”

Kate tried to smile. “Thank you for the thought.”

“Surely one of them can be worn down, over the course of days,” Susanna said. “This can’t last forever.”

But even if it lasted days, it would be too much. No one could understand just what it meant for Samuel to be confined. Here was a man who’d etched the date of his release on his own arm, working carefully despite the teeth-gritting pain, because he knew he was in danger of losing all hope and forfeiting his last shred of humanity. Accepting chains must be torture for him.

“We’ll find another way,” Susanna said. She looked around the parlor at Lark, Harry, Aunt Marmoset, Minerva . . . finally coming back to Kate. “This is Spindle Cove. Here we have six intelligent, resourceful, strong-willed women in one room. We will not be thwarted by a few unreasonable men and their silly toy-soldier games.”

“That’s right,” Minerva said. “Let’s go through all the alternatives.”

“I can’t run away,” Kate said, ticking them off on her fingers. “Marrying Evan is out of the question, as is marrying anyone else.”

“I know!” Lark said. “Kate, you could take religious vows, so you’re forbidden to marry anyone.”

Aunt Marmoset coughed on her spice drop. “A Gramercy woman, sent to a nunnery? That would be unspeakably cruel—to the abbess, most of all.”

Harry wagged a finger, eyes keen. “Wait a moment. Perhaps she could marry Evan just for a few minutes, and then apply for a dissolution or annulment.”

“I can’t do that,” Kate said. “I did think of it, but the vicar told me annulments aren’t easy to obtain. Plus, it would be dishonest. Evan’s been so good to me—I couldn’t lie to his face that way, reciting vows I’ve no intention to keep.”

“Susanna had the right idea,” Minerva declared. She adjusted her spectacles. “In this village, we beat the men at their own games. If they want to play soldiers, we’ll assemble our own army of ladies. We’ll have at them with bows, pistols, rifles—even a trebuchet, if Sir Lewis will lend it—and stage a jailbreak by force.”

Aunt Marmoset perked up. “My dear, I like the way you think.”

“No, no,” Kate said. “That’s certainly an . . . exciting . . . idea, Min. But we can’t. There’d be too much chance of someone getting hurt, and the last thing Samuel needs is another siege.”

His unpredictable reaction to blasts was at the very heart of the problem.

“Besides, even if we were to break him out of the gaol, that wouldn’t change his mind. We’d just be back where we were last night.”

Kate believed, with all her heart, that she and Samuel could build a happy life together. But when he’d made that bargain with Evan last night, he revealed his own doubts. He’d passed her into someone else’s keeping, the same way he’d left her at Margate two decades ago. He doubted his own worth. And he didn’t believe her when she said she’d give up everything for him. She had run out of ways to convince him with words.

And there was still the problem of public scandal. She couldn’t adopt the family name, then turn around and drag it straight through the seediest lanes of Southwark. Even after Aunt Marmoset’s confessions, she wouldn’t wish that on any of the Gramercys—and she didn’t want that cloud hanging over a marriage to Samuel.

In a nervous gesture, she twisted the ring on her finger, turning the pale pink stone this way and that to catch golden flashes of sun. So beautiful. She couldn’t imagine ever removing it. Samuel had chosen it especially for her.

The stone had inner fire. So did she.

“Well, we must do something,” Minerva said. “Print pamphlets. Stage a hunger strike in the green. Go without our corsets until someone relents. This is Spindle Cove. Heaven forbid we let etiquette and convention carry the day. Just look at your dog. Even he agrees with me.”

Kate looked down at Badger, who was happily gnawing his way through yet another copy of Mrs. Worthington’s Wisdom for Young Ladies.

She bent and scratched him behind one funny, half-cocked ear and whispered, “This is all your fault, you know.”

If not for Badger, she might never have pulled the truth from Samuel after the adder bite. She might never have come to know his softer side, and grown to love him for it. Melons would have far less meaning in her life.

In her mind, the wisp of an idea began to coalesce. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . Badger could be the key to this problem, too.

“I think I may know just what to do,” she said, growing excited as she looked around the room at her family and friends. “But I’ll need help getting dressed.”