Page 5 of The Lady’s Great Escape

Chapter Three

Kit finished his coffee and managed a piece of toast, all while casting glances at the smiling woman sitting across from him. She was much too chipper for this early in the day. Though he’d rarely seen her less than pleasant in all the years he’d known her.

The truth was, his sour mood had nothing to do with her. Kit had decided to give up late night debauchery and drinking. Over the last year, he had been working hard to get his affairs in order so he could move on with his life as the Viscount of Stormont.

Having inherited the title at the age of ten, he’d had little clue of how to dig himself and his estates out of the debt he’d been saddled with. But this year—with the help of a new steward—his properties had turned a profit. All of them. And last night his friends had taken him out to celebrate his success. A little bit too much celebration at that.

He smiled despite his roiling stomach. He’d done it. It hadn’t been easy. Unlike Graham, Kit hadn’t had a sister who could marry a rich earl and pay for everything in one fell swoop. But this was better. Kit had done it himself. He’d made sacrifices in order to make Stormont a name worthy of passing on to a son.

A son he would have only after finding a wife. Yet another reason for celebration and his relapse into debauchery and drinking. He’d informed Graham and their friend, Hayworth, of his plans to make a match this season. And despite their teasing, Kit was sure it would be the best decision he would ever make.

Their responses were expected given they were both still bachelors. Had Hale or Julian been there, he thought he might find more encouragement. The fact his married friends were happily tucked away in Scotland with their wives was more proof he wanted off this path of debauchery. He wanted a family.

Again, he glanced over at the woman sitting across from him with the soft smile on her full lips. Lips he’d imagined kissing many times over the years. She’d been the reason he’d come to Penbrook House on holidays from school. He’d had quite the tendre for his friend’s older sister at the time.

He’d thought one day they might find a happy life together. Up until she’d destroyed his tender heart all those years ago. He winced, at the phantom pain that her rejection still brought up. But, he had moved on… Or planned to anyway.

“Do you ever plan to remarry?” he asked before he’d actually thought to do so. Another downfall of drinking. His brain was always half a step behind his mouth.

“Me?” she asked and then looked around the room where only the two of them sat. “Heavens no. As you may recall, I never planned to marry in the first place.”

His brow creased. “Why not find someone to your liking that you could care for and who would care for you?” He’d known she’d had no season, but he’d thought it had been an issue of funds. That was no longer the case.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you mocking me?”

His own eyes went wide which caused another wince. “Of course not. Why would you think so?”

She gestured to the left side of her face and he waited for her to speak, when she didn’t, he continued to stare at her, which was no hardship. She was beautiful. Dark hair and eyes that set off her creamy complexion. And those lips.

He was back to her lips again. Bloody whiskey.

“Must I say it?” she asked rather peevishly.

He tried really hard to make his brain function, but nothing happened. “Apparently you must. I’m sorry, I don’t follow. There is quite a lot of whiskey sloshing about in my head.”

Again, she gestured to her face, but this time she turned toward him so he could see the birthmark she was no doubt referring to. “This makes it difficult to find a husband.”

“Really?” He frowned and leaned closer to get a good look. He’d known it was there, of course, but hadn’t been concerned with it past his initial notice when they’d first met. It wasn’t something he noticed now, not when the countess had so many other compelling features to claim his attentions. Like those lips… Blasted whiskey. He couldn’t think such things of the countess.

That was how he thought of her. He always called her countess rather than Celia. Celia had been the woman he’d known before. The one he’d once hoped would wait for him to dig himself out of debt and be his.

Kit was interrupted from addressing the matter of the birthmark when Graham flopped into his seat at the end of the table and groaned.

“Good morning, brother. I’m surprised to see you awake so early. How are you feeling?” Again, Celia spoke much too loudly. Since Kit was already looking at her, he saw her luscious lips pull up in amusement.

She was toying with them. If he weren’t wincing in pain from her boisterous greeting, he might have laughed as well.

“Shhh…” Gray hissed and rested his head on the table. “If you don’t cease in speaking so loud, my head will likely explode.”

She wrinkled her adorable nose. “I’d think that would surely ruin my breakfast.”

Kit laughed and earned a glare from Gray before he dropped his head back to the table.

Clearing his throat, Kit revisited the earlier topic. Now that his brain seemed capable of continuing the conversation.

“Do you truly think that spot on your cheek would keep a man from wanting to marry you?” he asked her before taking a bite of toast.

Graham raised his head again. “What are you talking about?” He was glaring and Kit wasn’t surprised. Gray was very protective of Celia. Nearly as protective as she was of Gray.