A Lady by Midnight
Page 20

His cold nose burrowed into the crook of her elbow, rooting and sniffing. She had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from yelping aloud. It was torture of the sweetest, furriest kind.
Once she’d managed to turn on her side and restore order, the dog leaped down from the bed and began circling and sniffing at the carpet.
Kate sat bolt upright.
Oh, no. Oh, no you don’t.
Kate jumped out of bed and jammed her feet into a pair of slippers. She grabbed her dressing gown and pulled it on over her nightrail, hastily knotting the belt at her waist.
“Just wait, Badger darling. Just hold it one minute more . . .”
Scooping up the dog in one arm and taking a candlestick with the other, Kate shouldered open the door of her bedchamber and padded softly down the corridor. The hour was well past midnight, and she didn’t want to wake anyone.
After descending the stairs, she opened the front door of the rooming house a crack. Cool night air rushed over her exposed throat. She set Badger on the ground and pulled her dressing gown closed at the neck.
“Go on.” She shooed him with a hand. “Do your business and come back. I’ll just wait here.”
As Badger scampered across the front garden to have his choice of the hitching posts, a light caught Kate’s eye.
There was a lamp burning in the Bull and Blossom.
Odd.
To be sure, the Bull and Blossom was a tavern, but this was the country—Fosbury always closed up shop by nine or ten at the latest. Village life began with the crack of dawn. What man would be up drinking at this hour?
Perhaps a man occupied by the same thoughts that kept her awake, when all the other ladies were asleep.
It had to be Thorne.
And she simply had to see him.
Kate rewrapped her dressing gown, tying it as modestly as possible. Anyway, it was dark. No one could see much. She blew out her candle, leaving it on the small entry table. Then she shut the door behind her and moved into the garden, summoning Badger to her side with a little chirping noise.
“Come along,” she told him. “We’re going to have an adventure.”
A chill crawled down her spine as she crossed the dark, shadowy village green, but having the dog at her heel was some comfort. Badger might not be fully grown, but he could tickle an attacker into submission, if nothing else.
When she reached the red-painted front door of the Bull and Blossom, she put a hand to the door latch and tested it. It was unlocked.
And vibrating.
She held her breath and opened her ears. From inside the tavern, she detected soft strains of pianoforte music. But they sounded as if they were coming from a long distance away.
The faint chords threw her back to those first hazy memories. She was in that long dark corridor again. Pianoforte music played from somewhere. From below? In her memory, she felt the distant strains of music shivering up through her heels. The arches of her feet tingled.
“See the garden of blossoms so fair . . .”
The corridor was cramped and dark. Endless. But in the darkness, there was something blue.
Be brave, my Katie.
Kate awoke from her trance with a gasp, sucking breath into air-deprived lungs. Her white-knuckled hand remained clasped on the door latch.
She gathered Badger with her other arm, then opened the door and entered.
What she found inside surprised her.
Lord Drewe.
He was seated at the pianoforte, and he had not noticed her entrance.
Light from a small lamp revealed him to be dressed in an open shirt with rolled cuffs and a dark pair of trousers. His feet were hard to see through the shadows, but Kate thought they were bare—just long, pale wedges against the dark floorboards.
He was playing the pianoforte, but with the top closed and the damper pedal pressed to the floor. The result was that no matter how vigorously he attacked the keys—and he was going at them with true fervor—only a faint, music-box sound escaped the instrument.
She could have laughed, if she weren’t so afraid of being caught. Watching a powerful marquess play the pianoforte in this fashion . . . Well, it was a little like watching a side of beef being butchered with a penknife.
Badger wriggled free of her grip.
Kate held her breath, mortified, as he hit the floor with a clatter of tiny claws.
Lord Drewe’s hands froze on the keys and he looked up sharply. He peered hard toward the shadows that concealed her.
“Who’s there?” His voice had a rough, end-of-day quality to it, and his jaw had a dark sprinkling of whiskers. For the first time, he seemed less of an elegant marquess and more of a . . . man.
“It’s only me,” she managed to whisper. “Kate.”
“Oh.” In an instant he’d mastered his shock. He rose from the bench and waved her forward. “Please come in. What a surprise.”
She hated for him to see her in her dressing gown, but it seemed a greater sin to remain hidden. “I’m so sorry. I just took Badger out for a minute, and then I saw the light burning. I was curious. I didn’t mean to interrupt your . . .” She bit her lip. “Your seething.”
He smiled and laughed a little.
Kate released her breath, relieved. “I’m so glad you laughed.”
“Were you thinking I wouldn’t?”
“I wasn’t sure. To tease you felt like a risk, but I couldn’t resist.” She approached the pianoforte. “I didn’t know you played.”
“Oh, yes. My brother Bennett does as well—or at least, he used to. Oddly enough, none of my sisters show much inclination for it. It seems to be a trait confined to the Gramercy men.” A half smile tugged at his mouth. “That is, on our side of the family.”
“Do you know if my—if Simon Gramercy played?”
“I believe he did.” Lord Drewe slid down the bench and gestured for her to sit. “Shall we try a duet?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
She choose a simple piece—one of those easy duets that all novice pianists learn with their tutors. Kate had played the lower part of it countless times with her students. Today, she took the upper part, and Lord Drewe quickly entered with the bass.
He was good. Very good. Within a few measures, she could discern his skill. He had long, deft fingers and a reach that she envied. But his talent went deeper than mere skill—he possessed a natural musicality that even a gifted teacher could not impart. Seldom did she have a pupil who could match her for training, but occasionally one came close.
This was the first time in years she’d felt herself truly bested.
But it was marvelous. As they played, she felt him making her better. She soon left the proscribed boundaries of the exercise, taking the melody down different paths. He followed her lead, occasionally made his own suggestions with a new, surprising chord. It would have been difficult to explain to anyone who didn’t play—but the duet was a conversation. They responded to one another, adjusting tempo and dynamics. They finished one another’s phrases. They even told each other jokes.
His technique was flawless; his style, restrained. But she sensed true passion beneath it all.
When they ended the duet with a playful flourish and one final, muted secret of a chord, they looked to each other.
“Well, then,” he said. “That seals it. You must be part of the family.”
Her heart missed a beat. “What are you saying? Did you have some news, some result from the inquiries . . . ?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s so much indirect evidence. We’ve spent the whole week with you, and we’re all agreed. You simply fit in, Kate. This”—he indicated the pianoforte—“is just one more reason. In my mind, the investigation is concluded. Don’t you feel it, too?”
Kate didn’t feel certain of anything—except that she was most certainly going to cry. She tried to hold the tears back, but a few spilled over. She swiped at them with the side of her wrist.
A few moments passed before she could speak. “Lord Drewe, I don’t know how to thank you.”
“To begin with, you must call me Evan now. And no thanks are necessary.”
Kate drew up her legs beneath her dressing gown and angled to face him on the piano bench. If he was truly her cousin, she now had the right to fuss over him. “Why are you up so late, Evan?”
“I might ask you the same thing.” One dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t believe it was only the dog.”
When she stammered a bit in response, he waved off her explanations.
“It’s all right. You needn’t manufacture excuses. We’re all a bit haunted, we Gramercys. Each of us has a passion. My sister Calista—you’ll meet her soon—has always been wild for nature. Harriet lives for drama, and Lark loves a puzzle. Our brother Bennett would tell you his passion is vice, but he once had nobler pursuits.”
“So your passion is music?”
He shook his head. “I enjoy music, and I often take refuge in it. But music is not what makes me . . .”
“Seethe,” she finished.
He smiled. “Precisely.”
“Then what is it? Or whom?” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask.”
“No, it is your place. Because you’re part of it now. My passion is the family, Kate. This title I’ve inherited, the responsibilities of managing several estates. Being a good steward of the land. Taking care of those in my protection. Guarding my siblings from themselves.”
He stared into the corner, and Kate took the opportunity to study him. She noted the small creases at the corners of his eyes. Here and there she could glimpse a thread of silver in his dark hair. But these subtle signs of age looked well on him. They harmonized with his worldly demeanor, as though his body were learning to reflect the maturity of the soul inside. He was a fine-looking man by any standard, but she suspected his most handsome years were yet to come.
He pushed a hand through his hair. “Corporal Thorne does not like me.”
She startled at the abrupt change of topic. “Oh, please don’t believe that. If you go by appearances, Corporal Thorne doesn’t like anyone. He’s very . . . reserved.”
“Perhaps. But he resents me in particular, and for good reason. He believes that I should have known of your existence, and that I should have tried harder to find you. I know he’s right.”
“You couldn’t possibly have known. You were only a youth when you inherited.”
“But you were just a girl, living penniless and alone.” He rubbed his temple. “As you might have gathered . . . a violent temper is one of my worst faults. I have no patience for those who cross my family.”
A rather grave understatement, Kate thought, given the five duels. His having walked away unscathed from one or two such confrontations would be impressive enough, but . . .
Five.
Evan sighed heavily. “This is what Corporal Thorne does not appreciate. No one can be angrier with me than I am with myself. You’ve been wronged, Kate, and I have no one to call out. No malfeasance to blame but my own inattention. Someday, I will ask you to forgive me. But not tonight.”
Kate leaned forward, boldly placing her hand on his arm. “There is no need. Please believe me when I tell you I have no room for bitterness or rancor in my heart. It’s too full of joy and gratitude. I’m so happy to have a family at long last.”
“I am soothed to hear it.” He took her hand in his and regarded it carefully. Thoughtfully. “Do you care for him?”
“Thorne? I . . .” She hesitated, but only to choose her phrasing. The answer was instinctive. “I do care. I care very much.”
“Do you love him?”
Now here was something she’d been avoiding asking herself. But she couldn’t let pass the opportunity to unburden her heart. Evan was family.