Destined to Last (8 page)

“No doubt, but that is too much involvement.”

“What if—?”

“Another time, Kate.”

She blinked at him, first at his sudden refusal to continue the conversation, then at the realization he had called her “Kate,” and finally because he was clearly looking at something behind her. She twisted in her chair to see Mrs. Keenes and Mrs. Lubeck enter the terrace.

Kate stifled a sigh at the interruption as Mr. Hunter rose
and bowed to the women. They inclined their heads in turn, but there was little to no respect evident in the greeting. From the quick jerk of their heads, to their ramrod-stiff backs, they made it perfectly clear that they tolerated his presence, but it was not to be forgotten that he was not really one of them.

Kate felt her hackles rise. The very nerve of them, she fumed silently. It was one thing for
her
to have been dismissive of Mr. Hunter—or attempt to be dismissive, if one wished to be exacting—he’d given her cause with his looming and ruffling of feathers. But it was another thing altogether to dismiss a man,
this
man, out of hand.

Kate stood and gave a haughty nod of acknowledgment of her own. She may have been the only unmarried lady present, but she was also the only one related to a wealthy and influential peer of the realm.

“Mrs. Keenes, Mrs. Lubeck. I believe you made Mr. Hunter’s acquaintance last night at dinner?”

Mrs. Keenes sniffed through her overlarge nose. “Indeed.”

“Your husbands, I am sure, have made his acquaintance in the past.” In truth, she wasn’t entirely sure of that, but it seemed a fair bet their husbands had had
some
financial dealings with Mr. Hunter. According to Whit, Mr. Hunter saw to the investments of half the
ton
, and held the vowels of the other half.

By the way Mrs. Lubeck blanched and stammered, Kate concluded she belonged to the second half. “I, er…yes, of course.” She pasted on a sickly smile. “Good afternoon to you, Mr. Hunter.”

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Keenes mumbled halfheartedly before turning to Kate. “Mrs. Lubeck and I were just headed for a stroll about the grounds. Won’t you join us?”

“We’d hoped for our dear Miss Willory’s company as well,” Mrs. Lubeck informed her, “but she declined.” She leaned
forward to whisper dramatically. “I daresay she worried she would damage what is left of her wardrobe. Did you see her traveling gown, Lady Kate? Mended in several places.”

“
And
a full season out of date,” Mrs. Keenes’s added with a gleeful tone.

Kate couldn’t help but feel some sympathy for Miss Willory in the face of such pettiness.

“How charitable of you to take such
interest
in your friend’s circumstances,” she bit out. “I believe I shall forgo the stroll, thank you.”

Mrs. Keenes looked momentarily stunned, but after a spot of rapid blinking, managed to regain her composure. “Yes…well, if you’ll excuse us?”

“With pleasure,” Kate said sweetly.

Mrs. Keenes’s lips briefly thinned into a white line before she hooked her arm through Mrs. Lubeck’s and hurried them both away.

“Officious old biddies,” Kate muttered at their retreating backs.

Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at them, she turned away to find Mr. Hunter watching her. At first glance, his expression seemed to be one of mild amusement, but upon closer inspection, she saw a hint of darkness as well—the taint of anger and wounded pride.

He smoothed the front of his coat. “Did you just defend me, Lady Kate?
And
Miss Willory?”

“No,” she said quickly, unsure whether she was trying to further spare his pride, or save her own. “I-I was defending a principle.”

“And what principle was that?”

“Um, the principle of, er, good manners,” she finally managed. To her relief, the sound of voices coming from around the side of the house meant she wouldn’t be required to defend or explain that less than ideal response.

Mr. Hunter glanced at the noise. “It looks as if we’ll have to continue this conversation another time.”

“Yes, how unfortunate. I…” Kate trailed off and cleared her throat as her mother and Mr. Laury came into view.

Her mother smiled as she drew near. “Ah, Kate, there you are. Mr. Laury and I are for a stroll on the beach. Do join us.”

Kate watched the blood drain from Mr. Laury’s thin face. Oh, dear. It was thoughtful of her mother to press Mr. Laury into her company so that she might hear of Baroness Cederström, but not at the expense of the man’s health. He looked near to fainting. “I’m not certain—”

“Excellent.” Her mother reached for her, neatly drawing her next to Mr. Laury, whose Adam’s apple began to work up and down with disconcerting speed.

“Mother, I—”

“And will you be joining us, Mr. Hunter?” Lady Thurston inquired in a very,
very
polite tone.

Kate felt her eyes widen. She knew that tone. It was one reserved for individuals Lady Thurston was quite fond of, but would rather be rid of in the given moment. She’d been known to use it on her own children. And the only conceivable reason she’d want to be rid of Mr. Hunter was for the purpose of matchmaking between her daughter and Mr. Laury.

“Yes, do say you’ll come, Mr. Hunter,” Kate said quickly and in a voice that sounded a touch desperate even to her own ears.

“I’ve other business to attend to, I’m afraid,” he replied, a smile playing on his lips. “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of your mother.”

Oh, blast.

“Such a pity,” her mother chimed, linking their arms together. “Come along, Kate.”

“Lady Kate,” Mr. Hunter called out as her mother ushered
her away. He waited for the group to turn around. “I understand you’re an unforgiving opponent at chess. Could I interest you in a match after dinner?”

“I could see my way to having a match sooner—”

“After dinner,” Lady Thurston broke in, turning Kate about again. “Good day, Mr. Hunter.”

N
ever had dinner taken such an inordinate amount of time to begin, progress, and end. Kate was not a patient woman under the best of circumstances, and there were moments as she waited for her chess match with Mr. Hunter that she could have
sworn
the clock turned backward.

Her stroll with Mr. Laury and her mother had been painfully awkward for five very long minutes, which was the approximate amount of time the gentleman had remained in their company before making a hasty excuse and an even hastier retreat to the house. Then it had been a solid hour of listening to her mother list all of Mr. Laury’s very fine attributes. Kate did not argue. Her mother was certain to push at least one gentleman at her daughter during the house party and Kate thought it rather convenient that the gentleman of choice was in the habit of fleeing. She saw no reason to urge her mother toward choosing someone else.

But the event that had taken the most amount of time had been dinner itself. A normally pleasant event was made disagreeable by having Mr. Woodruff seated on her right, Mr. Kepford on her left, and the both of them alternating between leaning away from her in fear of mishap, and toward her to sneak furtive glances at the neckline of her gown.
She’d been tempted to have a mishap involving her wine and both gentlemen, but chose instead to distract herself from thoughts of vengeance by imagining what role she might play in the investigation.

It wouldn’t be anything dangerous, of course, she mused now. Mr. Hunter had more sense than to give her—and she had more sense than to accept—a task she wasn’t qualified to perform. But she did hope it would at least be challenging.

It was a shame he wouldn’t allow her to charm a bit of information from Lord Martin. She looked across the table to where Lord Martin sat drinking too much, laughing too loudly, and spending entirely too much time gazing at her and talking about himself.

Nothing at all unusual about that. Apparently, he wasn’t nervous about his little operation. It would stand to reason, then, that a few carefully worded questions could be handed to him without arousing his suspicions. In truth, a few haphazardly worded questions could probably be
tossed
at him without arousing his suspicions. He wasn’t the cleverest of men.

It was a trifle embarrassing, really, that she’d mooned over him for so long.

“Kate, dear.”

Kate looked up from her untouched bread pudding to discover the other ladies rising from their chairs and her mother nudging her arm. “Oh, right.”

Only a little time left now, she thought. As soon as the gentlemen were done sipping their brandy, they would join the ladies in the parlor. She hoped they sipped quickly.

To Kate’s irritation, they sipped slowly. It was another hour before the gentlemen arrived and Mr. Hunter set the chess game up in a quiet corner of the room.

She managed, just barely, to keep her peace until they were seated and she opened the game by pushing forward a
pawn. She’d not have been able to manage even that show of patience if her mother hadn’t been watching the pair of them from across the room with a sharp and faintly disapproving eye.

“What are we to do next?” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“About Lord Martin.” She glanced to where Miss Willory had trapped the gentleman in question on the other side of the room. Or perhaps Lord Martin had trapped the lady. It was impossible to say as both looked a mite disgruntled. “What are we to do?”

Hunter pushed one of his own pawns forward. “You draw less attention to yourself by speaking softly than you do by whispering.”

“Oh.” She supposed that made sense. Nothing said “secret” quite so loudly as a whisper.

“I’ll speak softly,” she assured him. “Tell me what we do next.”

The wait was killing her.

“We wait,” Mr. Hunter informed her. “And watch.”

She felt her shoulders, her back, her
everything
slump in the chair. “You
must
be joking.”

“I’m not,” he assured her with a small laugh. “And it’s your turn.”

She’d waited all day to hear her role in the mission, only to discover it was to wait? She glanced at the board and brought out a bishop. “That’s
all
? I’m to do nothing more than wait and watch?”

“Did you expect everything to happen all at once?” he asked, moving his knight.

“No, but I’d rather hoped to be doing
something.
”

“You will be.” He smiled at her. “You’ll be watching.”

She sighed and pushed a pawn forward. “What will I be watching for?”

“Unusual behavior from the staff.”

She perked up a little. This was a bit more interesting. “Why? Do you suspect—?”

“If this house is used as a base of operations, then at least some of them are apt to know of it.”

“Oh, of course.” She couldn’t help but glance at the maid who came in carrying a glass of milk for Mrs. Ifill. The girl looked to be no more than fifteen years of age, and harmless as a kitten. “How am I to distinguish between harmless unusual behavior and
truly
unusual behavior.”

“I’m afraid that question requires some clarification on your part.”

“Well, every staff has their own way of running a house and keeping their employer happy. Some ways might seem a little odd to you and me, but really aren’t—”

“Try an example.”

She gave him one she’d never been able to puzzle through. “The staff at Mr. Reiter’s estate always move to the far side of a hallway when he passes. Always.”

“Ah.” He took her pawn with his knight. “He pinches.”

“He…?” She shook her head. “He’s not the sort to hurt a servant.”

His waggled his eyebrows at her, his smile turning devious. “It’s not the sort of pinch meant to hurt.”

“Oh…
Oh.
” She never would have guessed it of sweet old Mr. Reiter. No wonder both her mother and her brother had avoided answering that question. “I can ask you near to anything, can’t I?”

“I don’t see why not.”

That answer, Kate decided, was
infinitely
better than, “that remains to be seen.” The possibilities it opened up were endless. Well, nearly endless. She couldn’t expect him to have an answer for everything, or even be willing to answer everything. But he was willing to listen to her questions, just as he’d been willing to speak with her of rakes and—

“It’s your turn again, Kate.”

“Right.” She pushed her rook forward two spaces without really looking at it. He’d called her Kate again. Did he mean to, she wondered, or even realize he had? She didn’t mind if he did, not in the least. With the exception of Lizzy, none of her friends—and she rather thought she and Mr. Hunter were back to being friends—referred to her as Lady Kate. But if he did realize, why had he not yet asked her to call him by his first name as well? She decided there was really only one way to find out.

“Are you going to invite me to call you by your first name?” she inquired, grateful her mother wasn’t close enough to overhear that terrible breach of etiquette.

He frowned absently as he studied the board. “Do you need an invitation?”

“Well, yes. That
is
generally how it works.”

“I don’t recall waiting for your invitation.”

He
had
known, then, and not asked her in return. She twisted her lips in annoyance. “I can’t…I’m not…”

“Not what?”

“Not you,” she replied with a frustrated huff. “I can’t go about ignoring the rules of propriety simply because it suits me.” Push at their boundaries a little, certainly, but not ignore them entirely.

He angled a bishop out and looked up from the board. “Why not?”

“Because…” She moved a pawn. “Because it
doesn’t
suit me. I like the rules of propriety. Some of them,” she clarified. “
This
one. Are you going to invite me or not?”

Chuckling, he brought his queen into the game and leaned back in his chair. “Lady Kate Cole, would you do me the honor of using my Christian name?”

“Yes, thank you. I believe I shall.” She maneuvered her knight so that he couldn’t take her rook without sacrificing his queen, then straightened in her chair. “What is it?”

“What is…?” Hunter gaped at her a moment, then threw his head back and laughed. The woman was a gem.

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know?” he asked when he could speak again.

“Of course not,” she replied, apparently unfazed by his reaction. “How could I? I’ve only ever heard you called Mr. Hunter, or just Hunter by Whit and McAlistair. Do
they
know your Christian name?”

“Yes.”

She frowned a little, then shrugged. “Hardly signifies as I couldn’t have asked them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’d have wondered why I was asking.”

“There is that.” Still chuckling, he moved his bishop to threaten her knight.

“Well, what is it?” she demanded. “Your name, I mean.”

“It’s Andrew.”

“Andrew,” she repeated, a line forming in her brow. “Andrew.”

“Does it not meet with your approval?”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of approving,” she mumbled absently and just as absently sacrificed a pawn to his bishop. Her mouth formed his name again, as if she were tasting it, and hadn’t decided yet if she cared for the flavor. “It’s a matter of becoming accustomed to it.”

“I see.” He took her pawn and watched her quietly say his name again. “And how long might that take, do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” she said before silently repeating his name.

He hoped it would take a few moments more at least, because watching Kate mouth his name was nothing short of an erotic delight. Particularly the way she drew out the “rew” so that her perfect rosebud mouth remained puckered even after she was done sounding the word. He imagined covering
that mouth with his own. He imagined her lips forming his name on a whisper as he lowered her to the floor. He imagined her whispering it again and again as he stripped away the layers of clothes to stroke the heated skin beneath. He imagined taking his time, all the time he wanted, all the time he needed. He imagined tasting, and touching, and teasing until the whisper became a moan. Until the moan became a plea. Only then, when she was begging, when she was writhing beneath him in tortured ecstasy would he give her what she wanted—

“No, I don’t think I like it.”

It actually took him a moment to realize she was referring to his name, and not his sexual prowess.

“What do you mean you don’t like it?” he demanded, shifting a little in his seat. Bloody hell, how long had it been since he’d had such a powerfully erotic daydream, in public no less? Ten years? More? Not since he’d been a green boy, surely. He couldn’t decide if he was more amused or embarrassed. He shifted again and decided he was mostly just uncomfortable.

“It doesn’t fit you,” Kate explained, clearly unaware of his current line of thought. “Not as well as Mr. Hunter does, at any rate.”

“Call me Hunter, then.” It made very little difference to him, as long as he could get her to moan it.

“Hunter,” she murmured, then gave a decisive nod. “Yes, I believe that will do.”

Pity she didn’t want to try it out a little longer. “Certain you wouldn’t care to practice—?”

“Kate, dear, it is growing late.”

The sound of the dowager Lady Thurston’s voice as she rose from her seat across the room had them both looking up.

Kate glanced at the clock. “It’s not yet midnight.”

“Quite late enough.” Lady Thurston replied as she arrived
at their side. She gave him a pleasant smile. “You understand, Mr. Hunter.”

“Of course.” He understood the lady didn’t care to have her only daughter too long in his company. He wondered how much of that was a result of her preferring someone else as a possible son-in-law, and how much of it was her preference for
anyone
else as a possible son-in-law. More the former, he guessed. She had, after all, agreed to his looking out for her niece, Evie.

Kate rose from her chair with a sigh. “I trust I’ll see you at breakfast?”

He’d be seeing her all day. “You will.”

Lady Thurston ran her eyes over the chessboard. “You might as well finish the game, dear.”

Kate glanced at the board. “Oh, yes.”

Finish the game?
“I thought you were—”

He broke off as she leaned over to push her queen halfway across the board.

“Checkmate. Good night, Hunter.”

It had been a very long time since Hunter had gaped at a woman as she left a room. About as long as it had been since he’d lost himself in an erotic daydream in public, and just as long since he’d been put into checkmate within eight moves. Or had it been nine? He hoped it had been nine.

Whatever the number, it left him gaping at her as she left, then smiling as their footsteps echoed down the hall.

And then he was grinning. Oh, yes, Lady Kate Cole was, indeed, the finest life had to offer.