An Unconventional Affair: Forever Yours Series Page 15

  Kitty sighed. “I never imagined such success with

  my ruse. It is frightening.”

  A wide smile lit her friend’s face and her eyes

  glinted with mysterious allure. “But it is wonderful to

  be so daring, yes?”

  “I daresay it is. There are times I thrill in being so

  positively wicked and bold. Only a couple days ago,

  I rode your horse astride in Hyde Park. I declare I

  am not the first lady to do so, but the scandal sheets

  were agog with my daring, and Mamma almost

  had the vapors.” She laughed, delighted with the

  reminder of how indecent and free it had felt. “Kitty

  Danvers must be very devilish to keep the interest of

  the papers and society. I want them hungry to know

  me, to be shocked by and attracted to my audacity.

  Invitations to even the most exclusive balls and

  events will come in more.”

  “Then I declare that is where you should direct

  your attention wholeheartedly, Kitty. I assure you,

  if you let only the doubts and fear in, you will falter

  and possibly miss something wonderful, and quite

  different than the humdrum that can be the expected

  life of a lady,” Ophelia said with aching sincerity.

  Kitty had always thought that of all her friends,

  Ophelia could have been married if she wished

  for a union. She was terribly pretty with a small,

  determined month, a button of a nose, and sweetly

  curved lips, and she had the most beautifully

  haunting singing voice Kitty had ever had the

  privilege to hear. Despite being the daughter of

  a marquess who was lauded in parliament for his

  reforming efforts, for the last few seasons only one

  man had made an offer for her—Peter Warwick, the

  Earl of Langdon. And Olivia had rejected him, for

  she had an artistic temperance and sensibility…and

  a secret identity no one could ever discover.

  She was Lady Starlight, revered and worshipped

  as a masked and bewigged songbird.

  “How glad I am we ran into each other,” Kitty

  said with a light laugh, brushing aside all feelings

  of misgiving. “I shall not falter in my thoughts

  anymore.”

  A faint shout had them pausing and turning

  around. A man in a dark tweed coat hurried toward

  them, a notebook clutched in his hand, a briefcase

  dangling in the other. They shifted to the side of the

  path to allow him to pass, but quite alarmingly, he

  stopped in front of them. Kitty narrowed her eyes

  and gripped her parasol, not in the least afraid to

  slap him with it should he accost them.

  Not that they had too much to worry about with

  Ophelia’s footmen within shouting distance.

  Intelligent brown eyes landed on them. “The

  Honourable Katherine Danvers, I presume?” he

  gasped out.

  “And who is asking?”

  “I’m Robert Dawson, a reporter from The Morning

  Chronicles. I have some inquiries about your

  engagement to His Grace, the Duke of Thornton.

  May I be permitted a few questions, Miss Danvers?”

  Mr. Dawson’s eyes were watchful, curious with a

  hint of slyness.

  Kitty glanced at Ophelia and saw the message

  in her golden gaze. Be daring. Be bold. And be more

  wicked.

  So she did.

  Chapter Three

  Perthshire, Scotland, McMullen Castle

  “I hope I am not overstepping, Your Grace, when I

  offer my sincerest felicitations on your upcoming

  nuptials.”

  Those murmured words from Thomas Biddleton,

  Alexander Masters’s most trusted steward, arrested

  him as nothing had ever done. Well, except for the

  sight of his sister chasing a pig through the woods

  only a week ago, screaming for it to run and be free.

  The pig had been recaptured later that day, but he

  knew better than to tell her so.

  The memory pulled a ghost of a smile to his lips,

  and the other men gathered in his study shared a

  speaking glance. Except he did not understand its

  language. Did they ponder the nature of his smile

  or the beastly mien that must have been highlighted

  in stark silhouette with that small movement of his

  lips?

  As it were, the taut skin marring his left cheek

  down to his neck ached at the movement. There

  had been little reason to exercise those scarred

  muscles of late. Even his sister’s wild antics rarely

  managed to bring levity to his heart, when before

  a simple hug from her had made him feel whole.

  The echoing emptiness had become somewhat of

  an enigma to Alexander, for he did not perceive its

  purpose. He’d long accepted his fate and no longer

  roared his anguish at his misfortunes, yet he was

  also inexplicably aware of the heart of darkness that

  lingered within him.

  He was lonely.

  The stark reality of it had been a crack in the belief

  that all he needed was his sister, Penny. But he’d

  decided to send her to England for the necessary

  social polish and a season. She would not like it, but

  he would not allow her to bury herself in the wild

  moors of Scotland forever when the possibility of

  happiness might await her.

  “Please forgive my impertinence, Your Grace,”

  the man hurriedly said at his lack of response.

  Positioned in a high wingback chair by the fire,

  Alexander swallowed the last of his brandy, schooling

  his expression into impassivity. “My nuptials? To

  whom?”

  Startled owlish eyes cut into his, and Mr. Biddleton

  seemed lost for words. “Miss Katherine Danvers,

  I believe she prefers to be called Kitty…is she not

  your betrothed? Everyone has said so.”

  “Then it must be true,” Alexander said caustically,

  dismissing yet another intrusive rumor into his life.

  In the ten years since he had withdrawn from society,

  he had heard it all—the exotic French mistress he

  had to throw off a cliff, that he had perished in the

  fall that had broken his body, then damn his black

  heart, he had done away with his heir presumptive.

  Those were the rumors that had reached him in his

  cold corner of Scotland.

  Mr. Biddleton’s furtive glance cut to the three

  solicitors seated around a massive oak table. They

  were meticulously packing up reports in the proper

  order for his perusal later. From the stiff manner in

  how they held themselves, he surmised they were

  discomfited. Perhaps they dreaded the invitation for

  dinner he would extend, as was his custom. They

  were too afraid to refuse him, and they were aware

  he knew their discomfiture.

  Something ugly scuttled across his thoughts, a

  black awareness that he was lonely and had only

  these retainers resembling obsequious cockroaches

  who sat without spine, bowing to all his whims

  because he was the duke.

  Mr. Pryce, a new addition to the law offices, an
d

  who was aiming to leave his mark on the world,

  cleared his throat. “I had the privilege of finding a

  suitable town house for Miss Danvers when her late

  father’s lawyer was unable to do so, Your Grace.

  Miss Danvers was quite pleased with the house in

  Portman Square.”

  Alexander was momentarily transfixed. A member

  of his team had seen and spoken to this creature?

  Then a peculiar stillness settled over his mind. It

  seemed this was more than gossip crafted from the

  silver tongues of boredom and spiteful pettiness.

  It was quite astonishing. He took a few minutes to

  assess the strangeness of not having his mind darting

  in several directions, calculating profits, or penning

  some inflammatory letter to Britain’s parliament.

  “Was she?” he murmured in a deliberately disinterested

  tone.

  The pup, evidently eager to please, and dismissing

  the cautioning look from his superiors, hurried

  to extrapolate. “Miss Danvers has been declared

  incomparable, Your Grace, and the story of your

  courtship is splashed in every newspaper and scandal

  sheet. They do admire her for her charm and kindness.

  The story of your meeting and secret courtship

  has become a sensation. You…you’ve become the

  rage…”

  Mr. Pryce’s voice left him as he became aware of

  the heavy disapproval beating down on him from his

  two senior lawyers.

  None of that mattered to Alexander, as for the

  first time in years, a pulse of raw, vibrant emotion

  stirred beneath the controlled surface he presented

  to the world. A young lady had deliberately claimed

  to be his fiancée; she had either been struck with

  madness or ingenuity.

  He felt an unfamiliar twist of curiosity.

  He turned the crystal brandy glass slowly

  between his hands, absently tracing the puckered

  scars dissecting his thumb. “This meeting is over, and

  I will see you all next month.”

  Mr. Pryce and his senior lawyers stood, bowed,

  and made their way from the study.

  “Not you.”

  Somehow sensing that it was he, the young buck

  faltered. “M-me, Your Grace?”

  “Yes.”

  Everyone else shuffled out, the last one closing

  the door to the study quietly.

  “Tell me, Mr.…”

  “Adolphus Richard Pryce, Your Grace,” the young

  man hurriedly answered.

  Alexander could feel his uncertainty and did

  nothing to put him at ease. “You’ve personally met

  Miss Danvers.”

  The man hurriedly explained how he had found

  the town house for her and had tried to open a line

  of credit with the best dressmakers and milliners, but

  she had refused.

  How interesting. A charlatan who was not interested

  in his money? Who are you and what do you

  want?

  The lawyer’s voice droned on in his eagerness to

  please. Certain phrases caught at the sharp edges of

  Alexander’s mind; others he dismissed as he stared

  into the flickering flames. The scarred half of his face

  throbbed, as it always did whenever he looked upon

  the force of nature that had caused his greatest pain.

  The ton is fascinated…

  Everyone is amazed at how indulgent you are…

  It is a love match…

  A winter wedding…

  A duchess at last…

  It was simply too outrageous to be believed.

  “I task you to ensure that every newssheet that

  has mentioned Miss Danvers is delivered to me immediately,

  and all that mention her moving forward

  should be sent to me posthaste with no expenses

  spared.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Pryce murmured, pleasure

  rich in his tone. “I am happy to serve.”

  “You are dismissed.”

  The man bowed, a spring in his step as he made

  his departure.

  Silence once more blanketed the massive study

  like a shroud. He stood, gripping the head of his

  cane, absorbing the pain winding across his back.

  The doctors recommended he try to operate without

  his wheeled chair for at least an hour each day.

  Alexander had ignored them, and no less than three

  hours was spent on his legs every day, despite the

  agonizing discomfort.

  He made his way along the hallway, which was

  redolent with the scent of lemon wax and flowers.

  The large hall echoed with memories of a life long

  forgotten, a time when his sister had shrieked

  without decorum as she ran down these hallways, the

  servants smiling at the unlikely picture of his mother,

  a duchess, chasing her child. His sister’s presence

  had never allowed him the luxury of being overly

  maudlin.

  She’d needed him more than he’d needed darkness

  to hide away in.

  Each step jarred him, the pain at times making

  his steps falter. But he did not call for his bath chair

  or his manservant. He made his way down the

  winding stairs, past the drawing room and the grand

  ballroom, to a private room that had been designed

  solely for his use. Gripping the handle, he opened

  the door and entered the only paradise he allowed

  himself—his library.

  A room where shelved walls of books and scrolls

  and stone tablets rose in three stories of splendor.

  It was decorated in antique gold and blue, with six

  soaring windows facing the rolling expanse of the

  green castle grounds. It was a room fit for a pasha,

  overflowing with antiques and unique items he had

  collected before his accident.

  There had always been a deep-seated need

  inside him to study human culture and the different

  civilizations. He had toured the continents, locating

  precious gems and stones, revered scrolls, miniature

  sphinxes and statues of exotic animals, rare vases

  from the Ming dynasty, and books; he had hoarded

  them like a dragon protecting his lair of treasure.

  During his recovery, he’d hired a team of

  archaeologists, lawyers, and hunters of exceptional

  and unique things, and each year something more

  precious, more unique had been brought to him. He

  felt as if he collected the great beauties and wonders

  of the world, yet he had never been fulfilled. He

  touched his latest acquisition: Emperor Kublai of the

  Mongol Empire immortalized in the cold jade of the

  statue.

  It brought him no pleasure.

  The void was not filled; there was no rioting

  need to immerse himself in the rare books that accompanied

  this and each acquisition. His mind did

  not reach toward the abyss where he could submerge

  himself in another exotic world and be free.

  For his desire to collect suddenly burned with a

  furious need to add another object to his growing

  trove of treasure.

  Miss Katherine “Kitty” Danvers.

  But once they came behind these
massive oak

  doors, his treasures did not leave. An unusual

  interest pulsed through him at the notion of this

  daring creature in his castle.

  “Finally, your meeting is over!” a muffled voice

  filled with annoyance exclaimed.

  He smiled, moving farther into the grand library

  and around a wall of bookcases to another open area

  to see his sister sprawled indecorously on the dark

  green oriental carpet, her peach day dress already

  showing signs of smudges. She had been in one of his

  crates.

  “I surmise you have been waiting long?”

  “At least two hours.” She shot him a quick smile,

  her turquoise eyes filled with excitement. “Look

  what has arrived, Alexander. A sacramental vessel

  from the Temple of Seti. Isn’t it glorious? I believe

  Mr. Cook has outdone himself with his latest acquisition.

  There is a book of hieroglyphic—” Penny

  pushed to her feet and fisted her hands on her slim

  hips. “You seem out of sorts! Should I summon

  Dr.—”

  He waved aside her concern. “I’m quite well. I

  simply got a bit of unexpected news.”

  She shot him a birdlike look of inquiry. “Is it news

  from the doctors?”

  “No.”

  Relief lit in her eyes. “Is it good or bad news?”

  “It depends on your outlook on—”

  “Please spare me any more philosophical lectures

  and tell me,” she cried with endearing frankness.

  Alexander chuckled, recalling their spirited debate

  this morning as they had rowed on the frigid

  loch waters. “It appears I am engaged.”

  She gasped and sank into the well-padded

  cushion of the sofa. “You are to be married?”

  “So it seems,” he said with droll amusement.

  “But how? I cannot credit it or perceive if I

  should be delighted or pity the poor lady who will

  have to withstand your eccentricities,” breathed Penny,

  looking eagerly up at him.

  He scowled.

  “Though they are delightful ones,” she added

  hurriedly with an impish grin. “But truly, how did

  this happen?”

  “As I understand it, it was announced in the

  papers by Miss Kitty Danvers. I do admit, I have yet

  to meet this lady.”

  The import of his words reached his sister, and

  she straightened. “Oh dear. I wonder what circumstances

  would embolden someone to announce such

  a falsehood? Are you considerably angry?”

  Letting his finger trail over the cold marble statue