A Marquess for Christmas (25 page)

Chapter Fourteen

The
next week, Violet and Bella sat in the drawing room, sewing. Freddy had offered
to travel out to Yorkshire to see if he could retrieve Kit. Violet wanted to go
with him, but the
Havenhursts
insisted that she stay.
Every day that passed, she watched the grey and white winter outside her
window, hoping to see the glimpse of a carriage or hear the sound of a team of
horses.

“Could
something have happened to Kit?” Violet asked. “Surely they should have
returned by now.”

“Maybe
they were trapped by a storm. Or maybe my brother is being hard-headed. Do not
worry. They will return.”

Violet
looked down at the cotton shirt in her hands. She was nearly done with the
cuff. It was something she’d started for Kit, but now she wondered if she’d
ever see him again. Maybe he was still too angry to come home.

“I
should have gone with the duke.”

“No.
Let Freddy find him. And if he doesn’t, you can come home with us. Eventually
Kit will return to Oakfield.”

Bella
sat with the red velvet dress, putting gold trim on the hem and sleeves. The
thick fabric spilled over the sofa and rippled over the carpet. Would Kit even
get to see the dress he had helped her pick out? He’d chosen the design, though
Bella had picked the fabric.

As
Violet stitched, she imagined the sound of a carriage and horses, imagined
Kit’s voice calling her name. When she looked back at the window, all she saw
was rivulets of rain sliding down the glass.

Bella
turned the dress over, lined up the trim and continued sewing. “If the boys do
not arrive in the next three days, we shall have to travel on to Oakfield
without them.”

Where
were they?

Two
hours later, Violet and Bella were sitting at the pianoforte, playing a carol.
Bella’s slender fingers danced across the keys as Violet sang. “
In fields where they lay, keeping their
sheep, on a cold winter’s night—
” Loud voices shouted outside and she
heard the sound of a carriage coming up the drive.

“Freddy,”
Bella cried as Violet called out, “Kit.” They both got up and ran across the
soft carpet to the hardwood floors and out into the hallway. Downstairs, Avery
opened the door and shouted directions to the footmen.

Violet
had reached the landing in the middle of the staircase when a wet and
disheveled Freddy walked through the door. He gave her a short bow and looked
past her to the duchess.

Bella
ran down the stairs and hugged him. Violet looked away as they shared a kiss.
“Where is Daniel?”

“He
wasn’t with Stewart. I went to the Hog’s Head Inn and Tavern, where he and I
had stayed once before, hoping that maybe he had taken a meal there or spent
the night when the roads were too dark and wet, but the owner has not seen him.
I made it to Yorkshire and Stewart hasn’t seen him, but was relieved to know
that Kit was well and that we’d found him. I did not find him on the main
roads. I tried a few other taverns, but I have no idea where he is.”

Oh,
God. He could be hurt. Maybe the headaches had returned or he’d somehow fallen
and reopened his wounds. “I have to go. He could be sick and injured. He might
be dying on the road somewhere.”

“There
is another possibility,” Freddy said. “Kit may have assumed that Bella would
send someone after him. Maybe he went somewhere else altogether.”

Bella
clutched Freddy’s greatcoat. “Do you think he’s gone to Essex? Or maybe to
London? He wouldn’t travel out to the Hebrides in this clime, would he?”

“There
is still Dover. Or, he may have even gone to Oakfield, anticipating that we’d
stay with Violet rather than return home.”

As
they discussed the possibilities, Violet went over to Avery. “He is missing. He
likely does not want to be found. Where would you go in such a situation?”

“London,
madam. A man may be lost in the stews and taverns with ease. As long as he
stayed away from the finer establishments, he might not be recognized.”

Though
she wasn’t sure Kit would frequent the kind of places Avery meant, it would be
harder to spot Kit in a bustling city. It definitely sounded logical. The
question was, would he remain there until Christmas or would he go to Oakfield
as he’d originally promised?

“Frederick,”
Violet interrupted. “Kit has gone to London. Do you know where he would stay?
Would he go to his townhouse or would he stay somewhere out of sight?”

“He
favors the townhouse, but if he is not there, I think I know where he might
be.”

Please
let him be there. She hoped that Avery wasn’t right about him numbing himself
with some prostitute in a brothel. She couldn’t see him with the unwashed and
uneducated trollops that would work in the stews, but London was home to all
manner of bawdy houses. There were private clubs with elegant drawing rooms
where women of ill repute would see to the dark fantasies of a gentleman like
Kit.

“If
he’s taken up with whores in a den of iniquity, I do not wish to know,” Violet
said. “Take me to the hells where the dice roll and the cards are marked, but I
will not go if he’s in the bed of some harlot.”

The
duke grinned. “No, I do not think we will find him rutting in a brothel. But we
may find him bruised and ill-used.”

* * * *

Kit
wasn’t in the townhouse, though his steward in town confessed that Kit had sent
word that he was in London. The question was where. Violet had travelled with
the
Havenhursts
to town, but in the last three days,
they’d come up empty.

“I
have a strong feeling that we will find him today,” Freddy said. “He was not
with Joseph Clark, but there is another boxer, Barnabas Wilson, who Kit knew
back in the war. He sponsored him from time to time, but Barney got married a
couple years ago and his wife refused to let him in the ring.”

Violet
had nothing to go on but Freddy’s instincts, so they made their way to a brown
brick building with white columns that looked like every other house on this
side of town. It was at least clean and didn’t have the foul stench of the
apartments down by the river.

There
was a bright red bow and a wreath on the blue door, which had a fresh coat of
paint, unlike its neighbor, whose door was chipped and peeling.

“Wait
here,” Freddy said, closing the door to the carriage.

Violet
looked out the window of the coach, wondering where the hell she was and when
this chase would end. How could Kit just disappear? Was the steward lying?
Maybe he had an address, but was under orders to keep it hidden.

Was
it even worth it? If Kit did not want her, this whole jaunt was a waste of
their time.
 
It had been two weeks.
Christmas was in two days and they’d be forced to spend it here in London
rather than back at home. Maybe she should have listened to the duchess and
waited at Oakfield.

She
fiddled with her pelisse, stroking the fur trim as she waited for Freddy. The
man was diligent, she had to give him that. She’d offered to continue the
search with Avery so that the
Havenhursts
could spend
their holiday back at their estate, but Freddy refused.

The
sound of footsteps got her attention. Violet looked over and saw Freddy motion
for her to come out of the coach. She adjusted her hat then stepped out to his
waiting arm.

They
made their way up the steps and Freddy whispered. “He’s in bad shape.”

Bracing
herself, Violet didn’t know whether she’d find him passed out on a floor in a
drunken stupor or worse. They walked inside and made their way up a narrow
staircase to a small bedroom.

When
Violet stepped in, Kit was sitting on a small bed with a green wool blanket,
his eyes puffy and his lip swollen and bloody. He wore no jacket and she could
see through his tunic that he was bruised and beaten. Was this what Freddy had
meant a few days ago?

“Kit.”

He
looked up to see her, his eyes widening. “Get her out of here, Freddy! You did
not tell me you brought her here.”

“What
did you do? Who did this to you?”

“Before
you go off and avenge his honor, my dear, remember that he very likely paid
someone to beat him into a bloody mess. He got these wounds in a match.”

Violet
went to a basin of water, which already turned pink from his blood. She pulled
out a towel and wrung it. Then she wiped his lip and checked the wounds on his
face. “I thought you were good at this,” she said.

“Ha,”
he laughed. “My face is purple and blue, and instead of yelling at me for
sparring in a match, you tell me I am a sorry sportsman.”

She
looked him in the eyes and continued her ministrations, feeling his arms for
bruises and bending his head to check if he’d reopened the wound on his crown.
“What do you expect me to say, Kit? You are a boxer. You are a gambler. I knew
this weeks ago. Should I now be shocked?”

“Why
are you here, Violet?”

“I
came to see why you are not in Yorkshire. Why you lied to us about where you’d
gone. I came to make sure you weren’t ill and dying on the road somewhere.”

“She
came to make sure you weren’t rutting with some whore in a brothel,” Freddy
said.

Kit’s
stare made her quiver inside. The tiny room felt miniscule now. His presence
enveloped them. She’d forgotten how he could fill even the largest room.

“Why
would you care?” Kit pulled her wrists down into his lap.

“I
have always cared. Why do you think I would leave my home, leave my friends to
come out to the bowels of London to find you?”

His
eyebrows raised. “To yell at me?”

“I
love you, you idiot.”

“What?”
His hands squeezed her wrists so tightly that she couldn’t move them.

“I
said I love you. You told me you loved me that night and you were so into your
cups I thought you were addled in the head or manipulating me to take your side
against your sister. I never thought you were serious.”

“Why
did you not ask me?” The softness in his tone brushed over her like a feather.

“I
did not want you to tell me that you did not care.”

He
cupped her face and pressed his mouth to hers. Everything went blank around
her, fading into nothing, except his warm lips over hers and the sound of her
own heart beating.

“I
meant what I said, Violet. I think I became smitten with you when I saw you
attack that highwayman with a broken basket.”

“That
was no highwayman; that was a dirty brute with foul breath and no common
sense.” As soon as she said the words, she realized the significance of what
he’d said. “You remember.”

He
smiled. “Yes, I remember. It only came back to me a few days ago when I saw a
butcher’s wife haggling with a baker over a mince pie. She shook a loaf of
bread at him and nearly took his eye out.”

“I
had no weapons, sir, and you had discharged yours. I had to do something until
you could finish reloading.”

Kit
brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Only you would attack a thief with nothing
but the handle of a basket.” He kissed her nose. “Only you would use dubious
means to cheat me at a game of hazard.” When he licked his lips, her breath
caught. She stared at his mouth, wanting him to take her mouth again. “Only you
would fall in love with me when you thought I was a gambler and a boxer rather
than an aristocrat.”

“It
does not matter, Kit.” She closed the space between them, wrapping her arms
around his neck, and melded her lips to his. In seconds, his hands stroked her
back, easing their way down to her waist. Too many layers of clothing were in
the way for her to get as close as she wanted.

“What
do you mean it does not matter?”

“I
mean I love you exactly as you are.” She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I do
not expect you to change your ways overnight. I do not expect you to suddenly
seek a wife and children when you have never wanted those before. But, I need
to be clear with you. I have said it before, but it bears repeating. I will not
be your mistress.”

They
stared at one another for a moment. Kit watched her eyes go from molten gold to
green and listened to her breaths as she waited for him to respond. He’d said
over and over that he would not marry some insipid debutante who only cared for
a title and money, with no sense to make good use of either. He’d said he did
not want a woman who would harangue him and browbeat him into doing as she
wanted.

But
he had never refused to marry a feisty, passionate widow who could sing like an
angel, best him at hazard, do any and every dirty deed he demanded in bed, then
berate him when he showed up bloody and bruised after a boxing match. Six weeks
ago, he’d sworn he would not marry. However, six weeks ago, he’d not met Violet
Laurens.

Maybe
for once in her life Bella was right. She and Freddy seemed to think Violet was
perfect for him. The fact was he could not envision spending his days with
anyone else.

“But
you love me.”

She
nodded. “Yes, I do.”

Freddy
interjected, “Kit, you do realize that you will never meet another woman like
her. So do not be an imbecile and muck it all up. I will kill you. Then Bella
will kill me, and we’ll all be dead.” He smiled, “Except for the lovely Mrs.
Laurens.”

“Mind
your own bloody business, Freddy.” Hadn’t he said those same words weeks ago?
How different everything was then.

“I
will wait downstairs.” Freddy kissed Violet’s hand, then left the room.

Kit
claimed Violet’s mouth, this time commanding her to open for him. His lip stung
from the hard pressure of his lips on hers, but he didn’t care. His head
pounded, but he didn’t care.

The
only thing that mattered was her.

“Kit.”
She came up for air.