To Love A Lord of London (Wardington Park; Raptures of Royalty) (16 page)

“
E
veryone is staring at me
.”

J
oseph grinned
, “Well, it is your birthday.”

It was. She was twenty-five, and everyone knew what it meant. Andrew would either propose, or Catherine would be officially on the market. Already tonight, she’d danced with more dukes, earls, marquesses, and land gentry than she could count. “But must they stare?”

“Is that not exactly what you expected while wearing
that
dress?”

Catherine had. She’d expected it, but that didn’t mean she’d truly wanted it. Somehow, the red dress held a heavier draw in the lighting at the Dawnton townhouse. She looked around, taking in the new golden chandeliers, pale furnishings, and glittering walls. It had been almost a decade since the ballroom had been opened to the public. Catherine imagined that no one had refused the invitation. Everyone had wanted to see what lay in the Dawnton house, and it was amazing.

“Smile,” his brother whispered, “or mother will come over and force you to do all manner of things. Like dance with Mr. Nelson James again.”

Her eyes went wide as they stared at the ginger, pork-like gentleman they were speaking of. “Not Nelson again.”

“
W
hy not
? He’s wealthy. Unmarried.”

Catherine gave her brother a look. “Not. Nelson.”

Joseph sighed. As her older brother and the head of their household, if he wished for her to dance with Nelson again, she would have to, but since Joseph knew better than to warrant Catherine’s retaliation, he allowed her a few privileges… like denying a man a dance. “You do know that it’s in bad form to deny anyone a dance, yes?”

“Well, you know I’ve never cared one bit for form.” And she didn’t. Sure, she loved the parties and the balls but not for the watered down lemonade or the dance partners who stepped on her toes. She’d come for the debates. But, since her… transformation… she hadn’t even stood near one. Even now, she watched as the men in one corner of the room spoke with vigor and could tell the topic was a good one.

S
he looked
over to her brother to find him watching her. Joseph Croftman was larger than most men. Built like an ox, he liked to work with the men on his land, cutting lumber and helping in the fields. Nothing was below him, which made Anglebrook Manor one of the most profitable lands amongst both peer and land gentry. Many of the peerage looked down on the Croftman family, but that didn’t stop the mothers with unmarried daughters from parading their eligible brides in front of him. Further, his lack of a title hadn’t stopped many women from giggling and batting their eyes in his direction.

But Joseph liked to play oblivious to it all. The whispers. The come-hither looks. He only came for his sisters, to chaperone them and nothing else. He wasn’t interested in the daughters of earls or dukes—only his family, just as it had been since their older brother’s death.

Joseph narrowed his eyes, “What’s got you looking that way?”

“Thinking of Bradley and how he would have loved being here.”

Joseph’s eyes softened before he turned away. “He loved these events. The dancing… the wealthy daughters… All of it.” And then he’d died in 1814, just a year before the war had ended. Just a year before Lord Charles Lawson, the original Earl of Cartridge, had joined him in the ground. The war had affected many families, taking with it fathers, brothers, and husbands and leaving behind pain.

O
ften
, Catherine wondered if someone had given her brother, Bradley, a kiss farewell, just as she kissed Charles Lawson that day nine years ago. It had been her brother she’d been thinking about when she’d done it. Lord Charles was leaving. At sixteen, she’d known of his feelings for her. She’d known, and yet, part of her had wanted to give him something, to give him some comfort while he was away at war. And as she’d kissed him, she’d hoped that her own brother had not died believing himself to be alone in the world.

“Think of something else, Catherine.”

There was water building in her eyes. “Like?”

Joseph scanned the crowd. “Like, where Jane is.”

She scoffed and chuckled, “Jane could be anywhere.” Her little sister was known to run off during parties and events only to reappear at the very last minute.

“Little Elf,” Joseph spat. It was his nickname for her, since Jane was such a miniature version of the rest of them. She had the same dark brown hair and bright brown eyes but none of the Croftman height. “I must go find her.” He looked to Catherine, “Shall I take you to mother, or will you act civil all on your own?”

C
atherine looked away
, “Civil is my middle name.”

“Is that before or after Trouble?”

They grinned at one another.

Then Joseph grew serious, “Stay away from the Marquess.”

Catherine’s heart leapt. She hadn’t even looked in Andrew’s direction, which happened to be to her left. She was avoiding him. She couldn’t handle seeing him. She couldn’t handle that he’d already seen her in this dress… in her room… and asked to be nothing more than friends. Her nerves couldn’t handle it. She hadn’t needed the warning. “Trust me. I will take care to stay far away from him.”

He nodded, “See that you do. Or this time, I will call him out.” He began to walk away, but Catherine caught him by the arm.

H
er voice shook
, “What do you mean?”

He narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know about the liberties he’s taken with you?”

Catherine’s hand flung to her chest, “You threatened to call him out?”

“No, because of that silly promise he made you.” Joseph looked angry. “I thought he’d step up by now, but I see I was wrong to trust the word of the marquess. So, if he touches you again, he will marry you or I shall see him at dawn.” Then he was gone.

“Catherine.” A male voice spoke.

She turned and watched as Lord and Lady Nathaniel Dawnton approached, and Catherine couldn’t help but smile as they approached. Though, looking into Nathaniel’s face was a challenge. They’d known one another since childhood, and yet, he, the middle Dawnton, looked so much like his brother. Both had that irresistible golden curly hair and stunning green eyes. However, where Nathaniel’s always seemed to hold a private joke, Andrew seemed to always hold disdain for the world.

C
oming together
, the two women held hands.

Amy, who wasn’t an overt beauty, managed to glow, almost transforming into the prettiest woman around thanks to love. And she had a glowing heart to match. The two women had met through a cousin of Amy’s that Catherine dreaded to be around, but she’d always found Amy to be a sweet woman. Since her marriage to Nathaniel, Amy had become closer to Catherine, championing her on the marriage market.

Lord Dawnton asked, “Are you having fun?”

“I am.”

“Liar.” The couple said together.

They all laughed.

“Is there anyone you haven’t danced with?” Amy asked. “I know Lord Cartridge is simply dying to get in another waltz.”

And start more scandal. Catherine’s eyes shifted to Nathaniel’s to find he’d lifted a brow, as if to watch her reaction to the mention of the earl. “What I would really like is a seat.” The words came out stronger than she’d thought they might.

“
H
ow about one more dance
?” Nathaniel asked her. Mischief sparkled in those green depths.

Catherine shook her head and then grinned before falling into a curtsy. “I would be delighted.”

They fell into a country dance, and it took a moment before Nathaniel began to talk. When he did, she knew there would be no easing into the conversation. No pleasantries. He’d go for the kill.

“My brother is watching.”

Catherine spun, and as she did, her eyes found Andrew’s. Their gazes held. It was only a moment, but in that moment, she took in everything about it. The way his dark suit fit his lean form. The way his hair gleamed in the candlelight, more gold than the actual gold around. His tan, strong jaw, cheekbones, his eyes. She finished the spin and almost fell out of step because of it.

Nathaniel caught her and put her back in place. “He can’t keep his eyes off of you.” Heated words.

C
atherine fell back
into the dance, counting her steps… and her quickened heartbeat. “Please,” she whispered the next time she was close enough to Nathaniel. She made sure only he could hear her plea. Though, she wasn’t sure what she was pleading for.

Tell your brother to leave me alone? Tell him to look elsewhere just as I have done. Tell him to forget we ever met. Forget the times shared. The whispered words… Tell him I love him.

And it was the last that Nathaniel saw in her eyes, and she saw her own pain reflected in him. “Oh, Catherine. He loves you, too.”

No.

The song ended and Catherine rushed from the room, out toward the balcony, down the side stairs, and through a garden she hadn’t travelled through in almost a decade. But her feet remembered this path. Her feet knew where she was heading. Her limbs recalled her childhood summers here. The place where she and Andrew had shared their first kiss. The lake.

T
he lake was more
like a pond now, but when they’d been children, it had seemed much larger. She remembered the boat that they’d floated on. Him at the row. Her his passenger.

“
C
atherine
.”

She turned, “You didn’t need to follow me.”

Her late night visitor stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. It was William. “I saw the distress in your face when you left the ballroom. What did Lord Nathaniel say to you?”

Catherine shook her head, “Nothing of import.” Nothing that would matter. Nothing that would change her world. She already knew that Andrew loved her. He simply… feared her more.

William ran a hand through his dark hair, frustrated. “I thought it would work. I thought he would have proposed by now.”

Catherine turned away, facing the lake again. “It doesn’t matter,” she told him, and herself. “I’m twenty-five now. And I’d rather be a spinster than settle for a man who lives his life based on fears.”

W
illiam chuckled
.

“What?”

It was hard to see his handsome face in the dark, hard to read his deep blue eyes. “We’ve all something to fear, my lady.”

“I don’t.”

He grinned, “I didn’t mean you. I meant men. Death, the loss of loved ones… the loss of love.”

Catherine tilted her head at him, “Did you love someone once?”

He nodded, “But unlike you, she is no longer with us.”

Dead. The word hung between them.

One of her gloved hands reached up, cupping his cheek. In all of their plotting and planning, she’d never asked about his life. They’d always focused on her wants. Her dreams. From the moment he’d walked out of his room with the final clue to his mother’s scavenger hunt, he’d seen her love for Andrew and had wanted to help. But what was it that this gorgeous man wanted? When he went to bed, what was it that the Earl of Cartridge wanted more than anything else?

“
W
hat would make you happy
?” she asked him.

His hand came to rest on hers, “He doesn’t deserve you.”

She smiled.

Then he said, “But he will have you.”

She frowned, “I don’t understand—” But she never got the chance to finish. Because, in the next breath, William kissed her. His kiss was soft, almost without pressure. And then it was gone.

Catherine frowned, “Why did you—”

He placed a finger on her lips. “Stay,” he whispered, as though she were a dog.

She didn’t like that.

But before she could say more, he’d turned and walked back into the shadows.

She turned back to the lake, placing her hands on her hips, and closed her eyes. “Curse that man,” she whispered.

“
I
was just thinking
the same thing.”

Catherine’s heart raced at the recognition of the voice.

Andrew. He stood only a few feet away. Scowling. Forever scowling. “You kissed him.”

She couldn’t hold the eye roll that came. She didn’t even care if he couldn’t see it in the dark. She was done living to please him. “Yes, I did.”

He didn’t move. “You kissed him at our place.”

She paused. She hadn’t thought about that. She hadn’t thought about what it would mean to him. Or to herself. She turned to the pond. Their place. They had another place. The lantern in the forest.

Don’t light that lantern again. I will not return
.

And yet he’d followed her here.

She turned back to him, “Why are you here?”

His eyes went wide, “I followed you.”

“
W
hy
?”

They were silent for a moment and Catherine neither wished to know the answer or to know whether or not he would or would not answer. She shook her head. It was too much to think about. She turned to leave, passing near him.

His hand shot out, stopping her. There was no glove. And the hand rested on her arm, where there was no cloth between them.

Flesh met flesh. His fingers, large and rough around her arm, possessive.

She stilled and looked up to him, thinking that no man should look as handsome as he. The moonlight highlighted him so perfectly, causing him to illuminate.

His voice was low, “Happy birthday, Catherine.” Did he have to say her name in such a way? Did it have to tempt and tease at the same time?

She swallowed. “Thank you, my lord,” she whispered, putting some distance between him and her ever-awake feelings.

He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear, “I’ve no gift for you.”

She didn’t need one. “Andrew—”

“But, perhaps, I can give you something else.”

T
here was only
one thing her foolish heart wanted. She felt the false hope begin to build. She closed her eyes. Would he ask her? This night? Would her dreams finally come true?

They wouldn’t.

Andrew stared down at the woman who owned almost every piece of him, but wasn’t willing to give the last of him. He’d only come out here tonight to see if she was well. He’d seen her rush from the room and had only followed in friendship… or so he told himself. And then he’d seen her with William, and though he’d been too far to hear their words, he’d seen the moment that Catherine’s gloved hand had touched his cheek. Andrew had grown furious with the connect, but then they’d kissed, and everything in Andrew had screamed against it. She was his, and he wasn’t quite yet ready to let her go—not that he was sure he’d ever be ready.

Once William left, Andrew had seen his chance. This last moment. At the place it all began. The place he’d made his promise. The place they’d shared their first kiss. The place they would share their last.

His heart constricted at the thought, willing itself to give out.

“Andrew?” Catherine’s sweet voice washed over him, floating on the London night breeze. Could he really give this woman away? Could he really let her go? Could he go through life, knowing she’d look at another man, any man, this way? With her beautiful brown eyes that seemed to give him life.

“
N
o
.”

She frowned, not understanding his meaning.

But she was his. “No,” he whispered. He would not give her away. Not ever.

Then he kissed her. And there wasn’t anything light about it. It wasn’t soft. His lips were not gentle. They were demanding, fueled by bitter acceptance and a whispered sense of peace. He was hers to toy with, to bend to her will, to summon, to banish to eternal darkness. All he was was for her, or he was nothing.

And when her arms came around his neck, her lips parted and the kiss grew. Deepened.

“Lord Dawnton!”

The thunder in the voice broke them apart. They both turned, but Andrew only had a second to recognize the speaker before a fist landed in his face.