Chapter Three

K it's jumbled thoughts kept returning to the auburn-haired man who had stepped in and rescued her at the ball. Her heart had rejoiced when she recognized him immediately as the man she had observed that first night from the gallery. His presence seemed larger than life, and up close, his shoulders were much broader than they appeared from afar. She would know the way he held himself anywhere. His posture spoke of a man well used to responsibility and commanding others.

But he had not recognized her. How could he, when he had been fully occupied with whatever challenge Mrs. Dove-Lyon had arranged for him the night she first spied him from the gallery? She shivered thinking of the recent ball and the way her rescuer had leveled the man who accosted her with one blow, as if he were used to dealing with miscreants. His hands were callused. He was a man who was accustomed to manual labor. Was he a Bow Street runner, or had he served in one of the king's regiments, dragoons, or navy? Mayhap a country squire who had his heart set on finding a wife with a bit of Town polish?

With a deep sigh, she wondered if she would ever see the man her heart ached for again. His treatment of her, as if she were someone special, worth protecting, had added to his appeal. Not one gentleman of the ton had ever treated her as if she mattered. She could not decide if she should speak to her aunt about meeting him, or do something completely brazen and show up at the Lyon's Den and demand to speak to Mrs. Dove-Lyon. Speaking of the widow, why had Kit had not heard from her since the night of the ball? She had not attended without an invitation.

Surely the handsome gentleman who wrapped his frockcoat around her shoulders was interested, and said as much to the proprietress, even if he had not known her. But she recognized him! Had her infatuation with the man led her to misinterpret his regard?

The thought of never seeing him again slashed across her heart. She had never let her heart rule her head—but neither had Eglantine, until recently, and now her closest friend was happily married. A dark thought came over her. What if she never saw her handsome, auburn-haired rescuer again?

The ache in her heart intensified. Fate would not be so unkind, would it? Thinking of her parents, she realized that fate bowed to no man or woman. Her mum's costly care was more important than what her heart desired. She would do her duty, marry before her twenty-first birthday to satisfy her father's will to whoever accepted Mrs. Dove-Lyon's challenge and arose the winner. It was time to let go of her fanciful thoughts. She was much too old to let her heart lead her head.

She rose to her feet and walked to the window that faced the walled garden. The peace she sought escaped her today. In that moment, she resolved to leave her future to her aunt and Mrs. Dove-Lyon.

The knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. "Lady Catherine?"

"Come in, Bertie."

Her maid opened the door. "Lady Sybil asked that you join her in the sitting room."

No doubt Kit's aunt had more to say to her since their heated conversation the night of the masked ball, when she had arrived home with her head in the clouds hours before expected. Anticipating another stern lecture from her aunt about ignoring her sound advice and being open to the possibility of meeting her future husband in the Lyon's Den, she sighed. She had not dared to tell her aunt that she had met him.

"Very well. Please tell her I shall be there shortly." Bertie shook her head, and Kit knew the maid had been told to accompany her to the sitting room. "Ah, Aunt Sybil has yet to run out of topics to discuss with me."

The maid's lips twitched, but she did not comment. A few moments later, Kit knocked on the door to the sitting room and waited until her aunt bade her to enter. "Ah, there you are, Catherine. I have wonderful news!"

Unsure if she should show too much emotion, given the last lecture regarding comporting herself as a lady should—without showing emotion, no matter the situation—Kit waited. When the silence grew long, she finally asked, "From whom?"

"Mrs. Dove-Lyon," her aunt replied. "You are expected this evening to observe—not meet—the three new gentlemen vying for your hand."

"But I—"

Lady Sybil sighed. "How many times have I reminded you not to interrupt?"

"Countless," Kit answered honestly.

"Can you not help yourself?"

Kit shrugged. "Apparently not. Why do I not get to meet the gentlemen?"

"As Mrs. Dove-Lyon states in her missive, you will be allowed to see them from the ladies' observation gallery above the main gambling floor."

"That is where I met Adelaide—er, Mrs. Broadbank a month ago. She found her husband right away. Why is it taking so long for Mrs. Dove-Lyon to find a husband for me? Is my dowry too small? What about my inheritance? It will be substantial and turned over to whomever I marry after we say our vows."

Her aunt held out her hand, and Kit walked over to grasp it. When she did, Lady Sybil gave it a quick squeeze and patted the settee cushion beside her. When Kit sat on the pale rose and white patterned settee, her aunt said, "Have you forgotten the three gentlemen originally being considered to challenge for your hand violated some rule or other and were expelled from the premises? Mrs. Dove-Lyon is quite selective, my dear. We must trust her good judgment and be patient. The men and women she matches have all had happy marriages. Isn't that what you want?"

"Honestly?" Kit asked.

Her aunt tilted her head to one side. "Yes."

"I'd rather live in the country and spend my mornings in the stables, talking to the horses and grooming them, than marry."

Her aunt sighed. They had had this conversation before. "What about the rest of your day? Would you spend it inside?"

Kit smiled. "I would spend every afternoon riding a different horse, over the meadows and through the wooded paths around our home. After tea, I would go for one more ride before dark, then mayhap a carriage ride by moonlight."

Lady Sybil shook her head. "There comes a point in every woman's life when she must set aside childhood dreams and accept her future, marrying a man her father—or in your case, your mother—approves of."

"How will Mum approve of the man when she has relapsed and not risen from her bed in a sennight? It is not as if she will bounce back in time to meet him, let alone invite him for tea."

"We will arrange it somehow, Catherine. Please be patient and keep an open mind. Mrs. Dove-Lyon is never wrong."

Kit wasn't certain about that. While she nodded, indicating her willingness to be patient, she was already planning to get a missive to Eglantine to enlist her aid in finding out more about the man who had come to Kit's aid during the mystère masque . Surely Eglantine's husband would have a rapport with Mrs. Dove-Lyon and be able to find out the man's name.

"Are you daydreaming again?"

Her aunt's ire was evident in the tone of her voice. "Forgive me. What time are we expected?"

Lady Sybil frowned. "I am not able to accompany you this evening—the physician is expected, and I need to speak with him."

Kit reached for her aunt's hands and held tight. "I could never have handled losing Papa and dealt with Mum's collapse afterward without you, Aunt. I apologize for seeming to want to disregard your well-intentioned advice. It's just that I…"

After all her aunt had done for her and Mum since her father's sudden passing from a lung inflammation, what could she say without taking the chance that she would hurt the woman's feelings? Although Papa's older sister seemed impervious to harsh words, Kit would never willingly hurt her.

"I understand, and thank you for taking such good care of Mum. I am ashamed to have fallen apart when she collapsed and am so grateful that you were there to pick up the pieces."

Her aunt met her direct gaze. "I would do anything to honor my brother's memory and promise to continue to take care of Amaranth, and you, as your father would have wished it."

Tears welled in Kit's eyes at the mention of her father, and her mother's need for constant care. She needed to be strong and emulate her aunt. "What time shall I be ready?"

"Half eight." Kit rose, and her aunt motioned for her to wait. "Wear the new dark blue gown that arrived yesterday."

Kit smiled. It reminded her of the velvet cloak she had worn the night she was rescued by the man her heart ached for. The handsome, gray-eyed, broad-shouldered man with the callused hands and protective instinct. Her heart had simply melted when he placed his coat around her. Surely someone else would have noticed the man's actions toward her and knew his name. What of Mrs. Dove-Lyon's head of security? He would know, wouldn't he?

At her aunt's expectant look, she said, "The color reminds me of midnight."

"It will look lovely on you. Be sure to allow Bertie plenty of time to do your hair."

"I will. Thank you, Aunt."

"You are welcome, Catherine."

She did not rush until she closed the sitting room door behind her. Dashing toward the door that separated the main house from the servants' domain, she yanked it open and raced along the hallway past the kitchen, the pantry, and other rooms before reaching the rear door to the town house. Kit was running by the time she reached the stables.

"Is something wrong, Lady Kit?" the stable master called out as she entered.

"I need to speak to Robert."

"You'd best not be sending him to Colonel Merriweather's town house again."

She bit her bottom lip and nodded, crossing her fingers behind her back before fibbing, "I won't."

The stable master huffed and called Robert's name. The eager young man's head popped up from behind one of the doors to the stalls. "In here!"

"Lady Kit needs a word with you."

"Aye." He brushed off his hands and opened the door to the stall, speaking softly to the gelding he had been feeding.

The stable master was busy with her father's fractious thoroughbred, but Kit lowered her voice just the same, not willing to take a chance the man would hear what she had to say. "Robert, I need you to deliver a verbal message to Mrs. Cameron."

"You mean Miss Merriweather?"

"She's married now, remember?"

He shrugged. "Guess I forgot."

"Tell her that I need her help finding out the name of a gentleman who attended the ball."

"What ball?"

Kit kept her temper in check. "She will know which ball. Now repeat the message back to me?"

"Lady Kit needs your help finding a gentleman at the ball."

"Close enough." Her friend would understand the message. "Thank you, Robert." She placed a coin in his hand and urged him to leave.

"Now?"

"Yes, now—it is of the utmost importance."

He sighed. "Am I to wait for an answer?"

"Yes."

He pocketed the coin and opened the side door to the stables. "I'll send word through Bertie when I return."

"Thank you, Robert."

Now all she had to do was be patient and wait for Eglantine's reply. Hopefully it would arrive before she had to begin getting ready for another night in the Lyon's Den.