Let It Snow (53 page)

“He wasn’t with Stewart. I went to the Hog’s Head Inn and Tavern, where he and I had stayed once before, hoping that maybe he had taken a meal there or spent the night when the roads were too dark and wet, but the owner has not seen him. I made it to Yorkshire and Stewart hasn’t seen him, but was relieved to know that Kit was well and that we’d found him. I checked the main roads and tried a few other taverns, but I have no idea where he is.”

Oh, God. He could be hurt. Maybe the headaches had returned or he’d somehow fallen and reopened his wounds. “I have to go. He could be sick and injured. He might be dying on the road somewhere.”

“There is another possibility,” Freddy said. “Kit may have assumed that Bella would send someone after him. Maybe he went somewhere else altogether.”

Bella clutched Freddy’s greatcoat. “Do you think he’s gone to Essex? Or maybe to London? He wouldn’t travel out to the Hebrides in this clime, would he?”

“There is still Dover. Or, he may have even gone to Oakfield, anticipating that we’d stay with Violet rather than return home.”

As they discussed the possibilities, Violet went over to Avery. “He is missing. He likely does not want to be found. Where would you go in such a situation?”

“London, madam. A man may be lost in the stews and taverns with ease. As long as he stayed away from the finer establishments, he might not be recognized.”

Though she wasn’t sure Kit would frequent the kind of places Avery meant, it would be harder to spot Kit in a bustling city. It definitely sounded logical. The question was, would he remain there until Christmas or would he go to Oakfield as he’d originally promised?

“Frederick,” Violet interrupted. “Kit has gone to London. Do you know where he would stay? Would he go to his townhouse or would he stay somewhere out of sight?”

“He favors the townhouse, but if he is not there, I think I know where he might be.”

Please let him be there. She hoped that Avery wasn’t right about him numbing himself with some prostitute in a brothel. She couldn’t see him with the unwashed and uneducated trollops that would work in the stews, but London was home to all manner of bawdy houses. There were private clubs with elegant drawing rooms where women of ill repute would see to the dark fantasies of a gentleman like Kit.

“If he’s taken up with whores in a den of iniquity, I do not wish to know,” Violet said. “Take me to the hells where the dice roll and the cards are marked, but I will not go if he’s in the bed of some harlot.”

The duke grinned. “No, I do not think we will find him rutting in a brothel. But we may find him bruised and ill-used.”

* * * *

Kit wasn’t in the townhouse, though his steward in town confessed that Kit had sent word that he was in London. The question was where. Violet had travelled with the Havenhursts to town, but in the last three days, they’d come up empty.

“I have a strong feeling that we will find him today,” Freddy said. “He was not with Joseph Clark, but there is another boxer, Barnabas Wilson, who Kit knew back in the war. He sponsored him from time to time, but Barney got married a couple years ago and his wife refused to let him in the ring.”

Violet had nothing to go on but Freddy’s instincts, so they made their way to a brown brick building with white columns that looked like every other house on this side of town. It was at least clean and didn’t have the foul stench of the apartments down by the river.

There was a bright red bow and a wreath on the blue door, which had a fresh coat of paint, unlike its neighbor, whose door was chipped and peeling.

“Wait here,” Freddy said, closing the door to the carriage.

Violet looked out the window of the coach, wondering where the hell she was and when this chase would end. How could Kit just disappear? Was the steward lying? Maybe he had an address, but was under orders to keep it hidden.

Was it even worth it? If Kit did not want her, this whole jaunt was a waste of their time. It had been two weeks since he’d left Welbury Park. Christmas was in two days and they’d be forced to spend it here in London rather than back at home. Maybe she should have listened to the duchess and waited at Oakfield.

She fiddled with her pelisse, stroking the fur trim as she waited for Freddy. The man was diligent, she had to give him that. She’d offered to continue the search with Avery so that the Havenhursts could spend the holiday back at their estate, but Freddy refused.

The sound of footsteps got her attention. Violet looked over and saw Freddy motion for her to come out of the coach. She adjusted her hat then stepped out to his waiting arm.

They made their way up the steps and Freddy whispered. “He’s in bad shape.”

Bracing herself, Violet didn’t know whether she’d find him passed out on a floor in a drunken stupor or worse. They walked inside and made their way up a narrow staircase to a small bedroom.

When Violet stepped in, Kit was sitting on a small bed with a green wool blanket, his eyes puffy and his lip swollen and bloody. He wore no jacket and she could see through his tunic that he was bruised and beaten. Was this what Freddy had meant a few days ago?

“Kit.”

He looked up to see her, his eyes widening. “Get her out of here, Freddy! You did not tell me you brought her here.”

“What did you do? Who did this to you?”

“Before you go off and avenge his honor, my dear, remember that he very likely paid someone to beat him into a bloody mess. He got these wounds in a match.”

Violet went to a basin of water, which already looked pink from his blood. She pulled out a towel and wrung it. Then she wiped his lip and checked the wounds on his face. “I thought you were good at this,” she said.

“Ha,” he laughed. “My face is purple and blue, and instead of yelling at me for sparring in a match, you tell me I am a sorry sportsman.”

She looked him in the eyes and continued her ministrations, feeling his arms for bruises and bending his head to check if he’d reopened the wound on his crown. “What do you expect me to say, Kit? You are a boxer. You are a gambler. I knew this weeks ago. Should I now be shocked?”

“Why are you here, Violet?”

“I came to see why you are not in Yorkshire. Why you lied to us about where you’d gone. I came to make sure you weren’t ill and dying on the road somewhere.”

“She came to make sure you weren’t rutting with some whore in a brothel,” Freddy said.

Kit’s stare made her quiver inside. The tiny room felt miniscule now. His presence enveloped them. She’d forgotten how he could fill even the largest room.

“Why would you care?” Kit pulled her wrists down into his lap.

“I have always cared. Why do you think I would leave my home, leave my friends to come out to the bowels of London to find you?”

His eyebrows raised. “To yell at me?”

“I love you, you idiot.”

“What?” His hands squeezed her wrists so tightly that she couldn’t move them.

“I said I love you. You told me you loved me that night and you were so into your cups I thought you were addled in the head or manipulating me to take your side against your sister. I never thought you were serious.”

“Why did you not ask me?” The softness in his tone brushed over her like a feather.

“I did not want you to tell me that you did not care.”

He cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers. Everything went blank around her, fading into nothing, except his warm lips over hers and the sound of her own heart beating.

“I meant what I said, Violet. I think I became smitten with you ever since I saw you attack that highwayman with a broken basket.”

“That was no highwayman; that was a dirty brute with foul breath and no common sense.” As soon as she said the words, she realized the significance of what he’d said. “You remember.”

He smiled. “Yes, I remember. It only came back to me a few days ago when I saw a butcher’s wife haggling with a baker over a mince pie. She shook a loaf of bread at him and nearly took his eye out.”

“I had no weapons, sir, and you had discharged yours. I had to do something until you could finish reloading.”

Kit brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Only you would attack a thief with nothing but the handle of a basket.” He kissed her nose. “Only you would use dubious means to cheat me at a game of hazard.” When he licked his lips, her breath caught. She stared at his mouth, wanting him to kiss her again. “Only you would fall in love with me when you thought I was a gambler and a boxer rather than an aristocrat.”

“It does not matter, Kit.” She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, and melded her lips to his. In seconds, his hands stroked her back, easing their way down to her waist. Too many layers of clothing were in the way for her to get as close as she wanted.

“What do you mean it does not matter?”

“I mean I love you exactly as you are.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I do not expect you to change your ways overnight. I do not expect you to suddenly seek a wife and children when you have never wanted those before. But, I need to be clear with you. I have said it before, but it bears repeating. I will not be your mistress.”

They stared at one another for a moment. Kit watched her eyes go from molten gold to green and listened to her breaths as she waited for him to respond. He’d said over and over that he would not marry some insipid debutante who only cared for a title and money, with no sense to make good use of either. He’d said he did not want a woman who would harangue him and browbeat him into doing as she wanted.

But he had never refused to marry a feisty, passionate widow who could sing like an angel, best him at hazard, do any and every dirty deed he demanded in bed, then berate him when he showed up bloody and bruised after a boxing match. Six weeks ago, he’d sworn he would not marry. However, six weeks ago, he’d not met Violet Laurens.

Maybe for once in her life Bella was right. She and Freddy seemed to think Violet was perfect for him. The fact was he could not envision spending his days with anyone else.

“But you love me.”

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Freddy interjected, “Kit, you do realize that you will never meet another woman like her. So do not be an imbecile and muck it all up. I will kill you. Then Bella will kill me, and we’ll all be dead.” He smiled, “Except for the lovely Mrs. Laurens.”

“Mind your own bloody business, Freddy.” Hadn’t he said those same words weeks ago? How different everything was then.

“I will wait downstairs.” Freddy kissed Violet’s hand, then left the room.

Kit claimed Violet’s mouth, this time commanding her to open for him. His lip stung from the hard pressure of his lips on hers, but he didn’t care. His head pounded, but he didn’t care.

The only thing that mattered was her.

“Kit.” She came up for air.

“Yes, angel?”

“Will you come home with me?”

He leaned his forehead against hers. “I would go anywhere with you.”

“Let us gather your things. Maybe we can be home in time for Christmas.”

“Oh, God,” he said. “I forgot about Christmas. I was supposed to be at Oakfield with Bella.”

“Bella is here in town. We will all leave together.”

“We need to do something first.” He fingered her fichu, wanting to spread the cloth open so that he could taste the spot between her décolletage.

“Can we at least wait until we are back at the townhouse before we do that?” she asked. “This bed is tiny and cramped and Frederick is waiting downstairs.”

Kit slipped his fingers into her hair, which was tied up under her fur trimmed hat. He pulled, exposing the soft skin of her neck. “That is not what I meant.”

“Then what is it?”

“Tomorrow we will go to the bishop.”

“The bishop, what—” She tried to move, but his hold was so tight that she couldn’t. She lifted her hand to her hair to rub the spot where it pulled. “Ow.” He released his grip and she sat up straight and grabbed his shoulders. “Kit, be clear with me. Why do we need to go to the bishop?” Her tremulous voice gave her away. She knew exactly what he meant.

“I want to arrange a date as soon as possible, Violet. The bishop will arrange for the announcement of the banns without us having to travel to Dover and back to Welbury Park.” Technically, the banns had to be read at both of their church parishes, but Kit did not want to have to travel all over England if they could avoid it.

“Say it, Kit. If you mean it, then you need to ask me.”

“Violet, will you marry me?”

Her eyes went wide and she stared at him. “You are sure? You told your sister over and over that you refused to marry. What has changed?”

“You. Me. Everything.”

“Kit, I love you. I want to marry you. Please be sure that you want to do this. Once we are married it cannot be undone.”

“You are a stubborn woman,” he said, pulling her into his lap. The heat of her bottom seeped into him, warming and arousing him all at once. “You tell me you love me. You refuse to be my mistress. Is this not what you want?”

She bit her lip. “When you love someone, you seek to protect them, to put their needs above your own. I will not marry you if it means that you will tire of me in a year when you realize that marriage was not what you wanted. I will not be one of those women that you send off to the Continent or lock up in the country because you cannot bear the sight of your wife.”

He kissed her neck, teasing the curve with his teeth, then his tongue. “I did not want to marry if it meant marrying someone I could never look upon with anything but pity or disgust. I did not want to wed a woman who would force me to change, force me to settle into some dull, staid existence filled with boring parties and dinner at court.” With his thumbs, he teased the bodice of her dress, massaging her nipples through the fabric. “What I want is a woman who will best me at cards and distract me at hazard with a well placed foot,” he smiled, “and who will always make me laugh and when she fights me, it is because she is my equal, not because she wants to be my superior.”

Mmmm
. He wanted more, more of her body, more of her mind, more of everything that was Violet. Soft moans tantalized him as he stroked her nipples and nipped along her jawline.