Page 7

Chapter Three

T he ancient grandfather clock in the downstairs hall chimed once, a beautiful, resounding tone that usually delighted Kitty, but tonight had her teeth on edge. Half-past eight.

She huffed aloud and closed the atlas on her lap with a resounding thunk. She’d had such high hopes when she borrowed it from the earl’s library, but not even the coastlines, plains, and mountain ranges of Africa could hold her attention. Her mind kept straying. To him.

Setting the heavy tome aside, she uncoiled her body from her cross-legged perch atop her bed and reached for her coat.

The earl had sent word earlier she should join him for a late supper in his den, which meant it would be just the two of them, which, in turn, meant his grandson was going out. Again. Third night this week. She sniffed and re-donned the wig.

She ought to be glad for Lord Ezekiel Thurgood’s frequent absences—or Zeke’s as she increasingly referred to him in the privacy of her thoughts. But the truth was, with him gone, the house feeling cavernously empty.

He’d arrived in London less than a fortnight ago, and somehow had invaded every inch of space in the rambling manse, like air or light, something that couldn’t be touched or captured or measured, but when missing left its indelible mark.

She’d never experienced anything like the odd mixture of attraction and antipathy she had for Zeke Thurgood.

She ought to feel nothing for him but irritation.

He mocked her at every turn. The way she spoke.

Too proper for a servant, he had said on more than one occasion.

Another time, he’d asked how it was she came to speak with such perfect diction, somehow making what should have been a compliment into an insult.

As for her actual voice, he pronounced it too squeaky.

When she redoubled her efforts to deepen her tone he accused her of mumbling.

And who could forget yesterday when he cornered her upstairs before breakfast to lecture her on her eating habits. She ought to eat more, he insisted, if she ever wanted to build muscles.

She’d thought to shut him up by escaping down the back stairs en route to the kitchen for her morning meal with the rest of the servants.

The brute actually followed her, squeezing that big body down the narrow stairwell with a measure of grace she wouldn’t have believed possible had she not witnessed it for herself.

Once in the kitchens, he’d flashed his winning smile and set about charming the hapless chamber and scullery maids. No trouble there, of course. But he’d miscalculated if he expected to get any information from them about her. They hadn't any.

She grinned. She could still see the girls, sitting at the rough hewn wooden table, wide-eyed and dumbstruck, though Kitty wasn’t sure if their discomfiture stemmed from Lord Thurgood paying the kitchen a visit or his almost obscene good looks.

Yet for all his peskiness, she—well, she didn’t actually miss the man. She more wanted him around. Bother. It made no sense.

Giving herself one last look-see, she exited her room and headed downstairs to join the earl in his den, resolving not to think about Lord Zeke Thurgood for the rest of the evening.

The task proved easier said than done, thanks to the earl’s habit of referring to the man in passing conversation. Not that she faulted him for it. In truth she feasted on every scrap of information the earl shared.

After their dinner plates had been removed, Kitty set up the chessboard. “Your turn to go first, my lord.”

He reached for a pawn as she settled herself. “Tell me, Kitty, what do you think of my grandson? Be honest.”

“Lord Thurgood?”

An image of Zeke formulated in her mind’s eye. His wicked, gleaming grin. His hard, broad chest. His rumbling voice uttering some mocking sentiment aimed at her.

“I think he dislikes me intensely, and I think you provoke him to do so, my lord.”

The earl let out a hardy laugh. “Indeed, I do.”

Her jaw dropped. “So you admit it.” She took her turn and waited for the earl’s reply.

“The boy’s too confident by half. This hoax ought to knock him down a peg or two when all’s said and done.

He’s consumed with curiosity as to who you are, why I’ve taken such an interest in you.

In six months, when keeping your secret is no longer necessary, I’m going to enjoy rubbing his nose in how easily we fooled him.

He thinks he’s clever, looking to uncover Kit’s true identity.

He has no idea.” Looking extremely self-satisfied, Lord Claybourne bent over the board and contemplated his next move.

Six months. Kitty leaned back in her armchair, crossing her trousered legs at the ankles, and gazed out the window at the night sky.

Six months. How she’d longed for the day when she’d fulfill the stipulations of the trust, acquiring the right to her inheritance sans husband, and the ability to rule her own life sans guardian.

She’d be free, no longer subject to the whims of her guardian.

Only now did it dawn on her. She had nowhere to go when the time came.

“Kitty?”

She shifted her gaze to Lord Claybourne, her grandfather’s most trusted friend, now the closest thing to family she had. “Yes, my lord?”

His mouth turned down at the corners. “Forgive me. I hadn't considered how humoring myself by teasing Zeke would land you on the hot seat. I’ll cease goading him.”

She grinned, hoping to set him at ease. “Please don’t trouble yourself. Besides, I rather think putting him off my trail will prove nigh impossible, especially as we reside under the same roof.”

“One of you is rarely under said roof,” the earl muttered, his rook capturing her pawn. “Your move.”

“It is quiet with him gone, night after night,” she admitted with a frown, her chin in her hand as she took in the earl’s devious strategy.

“So you do like him.”

Her eyes bugged.

He waved a dismissive hand, though a crafty light gleamed in his eyes. The earl brandished his queen and placed it on the board. “Check.” He flashed her a smug grin. “You’re losing your touch.”

She sent him a mock scowl, and then, with no warning, her face crumpled as love and gratitude flooded her heart. He’d taken her in, treating her like one of his own, no questions asked.

“Kitty?” He prodded, his expression one of alarm.

“You’re a dear, you know that?” Horrified by her loss of composure, she hopped up and retrieved the game’s wooden storage box, scooping the chess pieces and the board. “I think I’ll turn in early tonight if you don’t mind?”

Avoiding his eye, she moved to the cabinet and stowed the box.

“Kitty, did you know, during the war, your grandfather saved my life?”

“No.” She returned to her vacated chair. “He told me you’d fought side by side. He raved over your bravery. Called you, and I quote, the best and bravest man he ever had the honor to serve beside.”

They shared a smile.

“He trusted you implicitly.”

“And I him.”

“I never said how I consigned your address to memory. He made me recite it. He didn’t want it written anywhere.

Didn’t want Garrick tipped off to my whereabouts should I need to disappear.

I thought my grandfather exaggerated the severity of the situation, but then—” She broke off, grimacing as scenes from her last night at Hastings House, what Garrick tried to do to her, flashed through her mind.

How very right her grandfather had been to worry for her. But she got away, she reminded herself, thanks to her grandfather and the honorable man sitting across from her.

The earl with his shock of white hair, aristocratic features, and powerful frame cut quite the intimidating figure. But one glimpse into his kind blue eyes and she’d known he would do everything her grandfather promised and more.

She gazed at the earl through a blurry haze and sent him a tremulous smile. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything."

The earl’s jaw hardened, his look reminiscent of Zeke at his most obstinate. “I vow, I’ll see you safe from your blackguard cousin. He won’t get his hands on you so long as I draw breath.”

Kitty moved to crouch at his feet, taking one of his large hands between hers.

“And so long as I draw breath, I vow I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me, my lord.

” She conjured her sunniest smile. “It seems as if Garrick’s called off the hounds, thanks to our efforts.

There hasn’t been an ad in the Times for months. ”

Admiration gleamed in his eyes.“Yes, sly tiger that you are.” He touched the tip of her nose with his pointer finger. “Methinks you threw him off your scent. Now be a dear and pour us nightcap.”

She filled a snifter for the earl and escaped to her small chamber, her legs moving as fast as they would carry her. Her will to hold her grief at bay had finally given out.

Ensconced in darkness, her heart burning as if it lie broken in her chest, she dove into bed and sobbed into the pillows.

Tears for the grandfather she missed so terribly, for her beloved brother, lost before his time, and even for the parents she knew more from their written adventures than time spent in their company.

Underscoring it all was a pain she couldn’t name, a nagging longing consuming her whenever a certain someone was near—and when he wasn’t.

Eventually the flood of tears gave way to exhaustion, and exhaustion to fitful sleep. Then came the nightmare she hadn’t suffered for months.

She jolted awake, heart racing, skin clammy with fear. Rolling herself into a tight ball, she pinched her eyes closed and tried to shut out the image of Garrick on top of her.

I got away. I’m safe.

Lord Claybourne’s genius had devised her clever disguise, making of the whole thing a grand adventure. “One year to play at being a boy,” he’d said with a jaunty grin.

Hadn’t she spent six full months here without a moment’s trouble, hiding in plain sight? In another six months she’d reach the age her grandfather's trust pronounced her free and no longer subject to her guardian's decrees.

But what then?

The image of a golden-haired man with velvet blue eyes, and a gleaming white smile filled her mind. I knew you liked him, the earl had teased earlier.

In the darkness, her face flushed with heat anew. She’d die before admitting the truth. She’d developed a silly, hopeless crush on Lord Zeke Thurgood. How could she have done it? Then again, how could she not?

Sharp-witted and beautiful, but critical to a fault—especially of Kit.

Regardless. Zeke captivated her with his robust laugh, stories of foreign lands, and the Heart-melting way he doted on his grandfather, calling him old man even as he panicked at every cough or sneeze or flush.

Of course, none of that negated the fact he often acted an arrogant ass.

She pummeled her pillows in frustration then collapsed onto her back. Bother. Despite his many flaws, Zeke could have his pick of women, which meant even if she exposed her secret to him—which she wouldn’t—and threw herself at him—which she wouldn’t ever —she had nothing to hold the man's interest.

Zeke was a man of the world whose tastes wouldn’t run toward greenhorn girls who hadn’t even had the experience of a London season.

Zeke’s perfect mate would be beautiful and exotic and cultured. The exact opposite of her.

She had only passable looks, was as exotic as an apple, and though she knew an awful lot about an awful lot of places, she’d barely ventured outside Maidstone County.

Meanwhile Zeke’s wanderlust would soon see him sailing into the sunset in search of new adventure. She ought to think about that the next time his golden good looks or hardy laugh or tender ministrations toward his grandfather turned her brain to mush.

Thanks to her parents and her brother, Kitty knew all about wanderlust and the havoc it wreaked on those left behind.

Unlike some people, she knew what really mattered in this world.

Family and togetherness, love and trust, not traveling far from home, alone, in a never-ending quest for adventure and fortune.

She rolled to her side, closing her eyes. In several months she would be free to chart her own course in life. Where would she go? What would she do? She lay awake with the questions looping through her mind till the morning sun illuminated the sky.

Zeke still hadn’t returned home.