“You are quite welcome, Lord Alverton,” her mother said as she glanced at Kate. “I am certain my daughter wishes to express her gratitude for the flowers herself.”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you for the beautiful arrangement.” She curtsied only out of sheer politeness and sat down, annoyed when he took the place on the settee beside her, shockingly close. She moved away under the guise of straightening her skirts. The subtle menace that clung to the man repelled her, even beyond his overly flirtatious actions.
Undeterred, he slid closer still. “I find myself eager to further our acquaintance after our dance last night. Your beauty is worthy of the highest admiration.” His appraisal raked over her, slow and deliberate with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl. She crossed her arms, wishing she had a shawl with her.
She recoiled in disgust as she recalled his wandering hands and veiled comments about her charms. If only proper ladies were allowed to tell men like Lord Alverton what they really thought.
“Lady Katherine has many admirable qualities, Alverton.” James took the chair opposite the settee, his brow drawn lowand his jaw clenched with murderous tension. Was there some history between James and Lord Alverton that she did not know?
Lord Alverton finally acknowledged James, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Certainly. I did not mean to neglect complimenting Lady Katherine’s other charms. Indeed”—he turned back toward her—“I would love the opportunity to tell you all of the ways I hold you in high esteem. May I take you on a drive through Hyde Park on Friday afternoon?”
No answer came. Going on a drive—or anywhere—with this man was the last thing she wanted to do. “Well, I, you see—”
“Apologies, Alverton, but Lady Katherine is already engaged that afternoon to go driving with me.”
James’s pointed look urged her not to expose his lie. She did not appreciate his high-handed manner in taking charge of her arrangements, but she was grateful that she had an excuse to avoid Lord Alverton.
“As you see, I am already engaged that afternoon. I apologize for any inconvenience, my lord.”
“Perhaps another time then.”
She could not make herself say yes. A smile would have to serve.
The tension between James and Lord Alverton simmered like the lit fuse on a powder keg. She had never been more grateful for the arrival of the tea tray or for more callers. She cared little whether Mr. Robinson or Lord Walcott stayed or went, but perhaps the presence of others would help dispel the awkward strain in the room that lingered despite her mother’s valiant efforts.
Kate assumed the role of hostess and prepared each guest’s tea. Low murmurs of polite conversation filled the air as her mother and the gentlemen conversed, and Kate was remindedof the hushed conversation in the library. Would she recognize their voices if she heard them again?
She passed James his cup. He took a small sip and met her gaze over the fine bone china. “Precisely how I like it. You remembered I prefer my tea with honey?”
She had been so preoccupied with her own thoughts that she had prepared his tea on instinct. “A fortunate coincidence.” He could not know that at one point, she had paid close enough attention that she had cataloged far more of his preferences than his favorite way to drink tea.
She returned to the tea tray to prepare the next cup and sensed James walking behind her. When she stopped, he pressed closer than propriety allowed, though she did not feel any of the dread at his nearness like she did with Lord Alverton. Only warmth and a rush of nerves.
“I hope I did not overstep in declaring we had already planned an outing,” he said in hushed tones as she dropped a lump of sugar into the cup. “Even if we were not practically betrothed, I would never wish for you to endure an excursion with Lord Alverton.”
“In this instance, I am grateful for your interference, but what do you have against Lord Alverton? Has he wronged you?” She turned to face him, still holding Mr. Robinson’s neglected cup of tea.
His grip on his teacup tightened enough that she worried the fragile china would break. “I don’t care for the way he regards you.”
That was unexpected. “And how precisely does he look at me?”
“Like you are an object, a prize to be won and displayed.”
“And precisely how should a man look at a woman who has captured his interest?”
His gaze, dark and stormy, fixed on her.
“A man ought to regard the woman he loves as though she were the very air he breathes—that every moment in her presence is a gift to be cherished. That he would count no sacrifice too great to keep her safe.That his life begins and ends with her alone.”
She knew she ought to look away. She did not. How would it feel to be loved by a man in such a way?
How would it feel to be loved byJamesthat way?
Something shifted in James’s expression. He took a step back, breaking the fragile connection between them, and moved away before the quiet intimacy could deepen any further.
She turned back to the tray, though the simple work of pouring tea no longer felt simple at all. It was not James’s words alone that unsettled her, but the steady conviction behind them. Even if she gave up everything to be with him, James would certainly despise her when he learned the truth about who she was. Marriage would demand more than her hand. It would demand the parts of herself she could never reveal.
Kate ached for a life that seemed impossible. She wanted to be loved and yet remain herself. Not a love that confined, or required silence, or asked her to be less than she was. But she feared such a love might not exist at all.
