Chapter Eight

"M um, you got out of bed!"

Quinton let go of Kit, afraid that the pale, frail-looking woman in the doorway would not be able to stand without aid. He approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt what was no doubt a joyful moment for mother and daughter. Kit had mentioned her mother was bedridden. He was surprised and pleased to discover that, thankfully, the woman had not been ill to the point of losing the ability to walk.

He approached her. "Your ladyship, allow me to show you to the chair by the fire. It warms the chill from one's bones."

Eyes the color of melted chocolate—just like Kit's—met his. The welcome in her gaze felt like a hug. "Thank you, your lordship." She put her hand on his arm and let him settle her in a chair by the fire.

Digging deep, he was able to get past his anger toward Kit's aunt. But he would not soon forget that the woman would treat her niece so shabbily, while tossing his injuries in his face. Claiming them to be a deformity would be to dismiss the bravery of every man aboard their ship, the HMS Leviathan . He was no braver than those who served beneath him who had been injured during that battle. He had only had to give half a leg, while others had given the ultimate sacrifice—their lives—in the name of the king.

"Tea, your ladyship," Williams announced from the doorway, interrupting his thoughts.

"Thank you, Williams. Please, set it on the table by the settee. Now then, while my sister-in-law gathers her courage to apologize, will you have a cup, your lordship, or would you prefer more rum?"

Kit came out of the trance she had been in from the moment her mother appeared in the doorway to the library. "Mum, I am so happy to see you out of bed. Earl Stansbury, may I introduce my mother, Lady Amaranth."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Amaranth," Quinton said.

"And yours, Lord Stansbury." Lady Amaranth smiled at Kit and said, "It was past time that I left my sanctuary and rejoined the living. After what I overheard the servants murmuring earlier, about your intended escorting you home from the Lyon's Den, Kit"—she turned and frowned at her sister-in-law—"I realized it was beyond time I became involved, especially as it appears you are betrothed without my having any knowledge or say in the matter."

"We did not feel it necessary to burden you regarding the issue, as we have been handling the situation," Lady Sybil retorted. "I had everything firmly in hand. Up until this evening, I had met every candidate for Catherine's hand."

"I see that I have wallowed too long in my grief, if you felt it would be a burden for me to be a part of negotiations for my own daughter's hand in marriage." Lady Amaranth held out her hand to her daughter. "Can you forgive me, Kit?"

"Of course, Mother." Kit rushed over to her mother and squeezed her hand. "I know how desperately you miss Father… I miss him too."

"I felt as if I could not function, nor put one foot in front of the other, let alone hold a conversation. It was as if there were an empty, black hole in my life where your father used to stand. The hole grew wider and deeper each day, until I gave in and let it swallow me." Lady Amaranth turned to her sister-in-law. "I must beg your forgiveness, too, Sybil. You have had to take on the running of this household and guardianship of Kit. I can never repay you."

Quinton watched the scene with interest. The inner workings of family had always been a bit of a mystery to him. He and his brother were close as lads, but once he joined the navy, he had not spent much time home, and they drifted apart. He was surprised when Lady Sybil's eyes welled with tears, and he realized she must have been grieving privately for her brother while holding the family together. He should extend an olive branch to her—after all, whenever he and Kit were in London, she would no doubt want to visit her family. Mayhap once he offered his thanks, it would encourage his bride-to-be to do the same. Though, in truth, he was pleased when she rushed to defend him.

"Allow me to add my thanks, Lady Sybil, for stepping in and offering your advice and care of Lady Kit until we met. I am a firm believer in fate, and the night I saw Kit for the first time, I knew we were destined to spend the rest of our lives together."

"For however long that life may be," Lady Amaranth added. "From the look on my daughter's face, I would say that Kit feels the same about you."

"I do, Mum." Kit met and held his gaze for a moment before turning to Lady Sybil. "I am sorry to have spoken harshly to you when you disparaged the man I am going to wed later tonight, Aunt Sybil. You have been the rock I have leaned on since Father's passing, and you have been nothing but accepting of the burden, working on my behalf to introduce me to men you felt Father would find worthy of marrying me."

"I would ask you to postpone your marriage," Lady Amaranth said. "There isn't enough time to have a proper wedding feast prepared, nor enough to extend invitations to our closest friends."

"There are circumstances beyond our control," Kit reminded her. "Or have you forgotten the will?"

The blank look on Lady Amaranth's face was heart-wrenching. "Your birthday is approaching already? I'm sorry to have lost all track of time, Kit."

"Do not worry, Mum. With Aunt Sybil's guidance, and willingness to find other avenues for me to meet a suitable husband—Mrs. Dove-Lyon's matchmaking—I met Alec. I fear I would have missed out on life's greatest adventure had I never been to the Lyon's Den and spied him from the ladies' observation gallery."

Quinton could not hold back his smile. "It appears, my love, that we were destined to be together."

"I would venture to say so," Kit's mother agreed. "And I would further add that it was your glorious auburn hair that caught my daughter's attention." Her smile softened as her voice took on a dreamy quality. "Her father's fiery hair caught my eye before we were introduced. When he smiled, he simply captured my heart."

The earl turned and locked gazes with Kit. She nodded and sighed. Though he was apprehensive about her reaction to seeing what was left of his leg, no matter what he had to do in order to accustom his wife to the sight, he would do it. Even if it took days, weeks…months.

The need to share his heart, his body, his life-giving seed with her nearly consumed him. A decade ago, he had given up the dream of one day having a family with the woman who promised to wait for him. The Battle of Trafalgar, and his partial leg amputation, changed everything. But now…now he could envision the family they would have. He intended to enjoy life to the fullest, until he breathed his last.

"Is it possible to have a wedding breakfast prepared for tomorrow?" he asked Lady Amaranth. "For expediency's sake, I do not believe we should put off our vows. May I also suggest that we keep it a private affair, sending an announcement to the papers?"

Kit's mother was silent for a few moments before she agreed. "Cook is a marvel, and I am quite certain she can whip up something celebratory and delicious on short notice. I have decided to help oversee the packing of your trunks, Kit. I would not want you to be without your favorite books or riding habits."

"Don't forget her saddles," Lady Sybil added with a small smile.

Intrigued, Quinton turned to Kit. "How many saddles do you have?"

Her cheeks flushed a delightful pink. "Three."

"Does anyone need three saddles?"

"Well, you see," Kit explained, "one is fashioned for everyday riding."

"A proper sidesaddle," her mother added.

"Erm…quite. Then there is one designed for hunting," Kit continued.

Quinton wondered at the added blush on her face. "Is a sidesaddle not designed for hunting?"

"Kit's father was an avid hunter," Lady Sybil said, "and adamant about keeping his only child safe."

Lady Amaranth sighed. "He badgered me until I acquiesced. I allowed him to commission a special saddle for her to ride astride while hunting."

"As I understand it," Lady Sybil said, "it was only after she had fallen off her horse—three times—while chasing after a vixen who leapt over a stone wall."

"Good God! You could have been killed," Quinton said. "What were you thinking?"

Lady Sybil and Kit's mother laughed, and it was a lighthearted, musical sound. "Kit would only sneak out and continue to join the hunt with or without our permission," Lady Amaranth said. "Riding astride seemed the best compromise at the time."

"I see there is much we need to discuss," he told his bride-to-be. She rose from her seat, and he did the same. They met in front of the fireplace, where he took her hand. "We shall go riding as soon as possible, so that I may see for myself that you are as accomplished as your mother and aunt seem to think. Pack your saddles, my love—though I believe we shall keep your specially designed hunting saddle strictly for use in the country. Is there anything else you wish to confide in me before tomorrow?"

"Did you inform his lordship about your lack of skill with a needle and thread?" Lady Sybil asked.

"Yes, Aunt."

"And your willfully ignoring my lessons in household management?" Kit's mother asked.

"I did, Mum."

"Then I assume you informed him where you spent your time until your seventeenth birthday."

"She did," Quinton said. "Thank you for your concern, your ladyships." He lifted Kit's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss to the back of it, then kissed one knuckle after the other. "Until tomorrow morning, my love."

"Is eleven o'clock too early, your lordship?" Lady Amaranth asked.

"It is actually later than I had anticipated," he admitted. "However, I can agree to wait until eleven." He bowed to Kit's mother and aunt. "Until tomorrow."

"I shall accompany you to the door," Kit said, "with your permission, Mum."

Her mother smiled. "Of course—just remember, the servants will be hovering."

"Thank you for the reminder." Kit slipped her arm through his and gave it a tug. Willing to oblige the fascinating woman he was about to marry, he let her lead the way.

Looking forward to the journey they were about to begin, he ignored the worry that prodded the back of his mind—that she would take one look at what was left of his leg and run screaming back to her mother.

Shoving that image deep, he drew in a breath, ready to do battle against the dark memory of the time between Trafalgar and his readiness a few short years ago to step back into the light…to life. He'd clawed his way back up from the bottom of a bottle and the depths of depression with the aid of Coventry's visits and the irritating missives Moreland sent, demanding to know when he was going to rejoin the living.

He nodded to Williams, and for a moment wondered why the butler had not moved to retrieve his top hat. It dawned on him. "No wonder your aunt found me lacking, love. I must have left my hat somewhere between the Lyon's Den, my carriage, and here."

She stepped close enough to brush against him. "I'll not hear another word about your lacking anything, Alec." She lifted to her toes and brushed her mouth to his. He slid his hand to her waist and held her to him, kissing her with the longing that had been building within him from the first moment he'd spied her. Her soft moan had him digging deep for control. He would not kiss her as if his life depended upon it in front of her family's servants.

But he would tomorrow…after the vicar married them. He could wait until then. He had no other choice, as he would never do anything that would cast aspersions upon her character.

When he could bring himself to end the kiss, he tilted her chin up with his knuckle. "We shall do well together, you and I. What say we leave for Quinton's Folly immediately after we wed?"

"After we enjoy our wedding breakfast," Kit said.

"Very well, but I think you should know I have the bone-deep feeling we may run afoul of someone who did not intend to lose the opportunity to win your hand…and your inheritance."

"Hudson?"

"Aye, my dear. Nothing about the man engenders a feeling of warmth or conviviality. I believe Titan felt the same way."

"I shall advise Mother of our plans to leave right after breakfast while we are packing."

Quinton brushed the tip of his finger along the curve of her cheek. "I will alert my household to be prepared to journey to the country tomorrow. I should have thought to ask about your lady's maid. Of course you should bring her."

"We were forced to economize, as Mum's apothecary bill was quite large, and as she had no need of her personal maid, we have been sharing one."

"When we arrive in Sussex, you will meet the staff and see if there is someone you may feel up to the job."

"Any chance one of them knows what is involved when one is a countess?"

He smiled. "As a matter of fact, there is a young woman who was lady's maid to my sister-in-law. She has been serving in another capacity since…" He could not continue the statement. What was the proper way to discuss his sister-in-law's tragic death?

The small, soft hand on his forearm broke through his thoughts. "I understand. If you feel she would be willing to take the position, I would of course be happy to have her assistance."

"Excellent. I shall handle that while overseeing my packing." Unable to resist one more kiss, Quinton bent his head and pressed his lips to Kit's. "I shall see you promptly at eleven o'clock. Until tomorrow." He nodded to Williams. "I shall see you in the morning."

"Very good, your lordship."

With a lightness around his heart that had been missing for far too long, Quinton strode to his carriage. The ride home passed in a blur, his thoughts as tangled as his bed linens in his mind, as he imagined Kit's dark tresses spread against the white of his pillow.

Tomorrow could not come fast enough!