Destined to Last (10 page)

Her mouth fell open. “Whit?”

Her brother looked up, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he grinned at her. “Good afternoon, Kate.”

“What in the world are you doing here?”

“Such a flatterer, you are,” he laughed, handing his gloves to a waiting maid. “I was invited.”

“You’re the Earl of Thurston. You’re invited to everything,” she pointed out as she crossed the foyer. “Why would you want to come here?”

As soon as the question left her lips, she hit on a possible answer. He may have come to help Hunter watch over her. Whit was inordinately fond of watching over her. It was strange that he’d allowed her to come to Pallton House at all if he’d known of the smuggling operation, but she wasn’t in a position to demand an explanation.

Whit bent down to place a kiss on her forehead. “Delighted to see you as well. And to see that you
are
well.”

“I’ve been gone less than a week. What else would I be?” Putting aside for now the question of what Whit did and did not know, she looked behind him at the open door and asked, “Where is Mirabelle. Did she—?”

“Still on the other side of the carriage, I imagine. Mrs. Warrings snagged her before she could make it to the front—” He broke off when she shoved her book at him and headed for the door. “Where are you going?”

“To greet Mirabelle.”

“You’ve barely greeted me.”

She tossed a teasing smile over her shoulder. “Well, you’re not Mirabelle, are you?”

Kate found Mirabelle just where Whit had indicated, on
the other side of the carriage being held captive by the exceptionally friendly Mrs. Warrings. To her further surprise, she was also in the company of her mother’s friend, Mrs. Mary Summers.

Mrs. Warrings fluttered her hands dramatically as Kate arrived. “Lady Kate, had you any idea? Your brother, Lady Thurston, and our dear Mrs. Summers here? What a delightful surprise.”

“It is that,” Kate agreed and stepped up to give both ladies a kiss on the cheek.

Mrs. Warrings glanced at the house. “I simply must make my hellos to the earl. He managed to sneak straight into the house without my seeing him.”

“He did, indeed,” Mirabelle commented dryly. Of average height and build, with dark eyes and hair an unremarkable shade of brown, some considered the current Lady Thurston a somewhat plain woman. It was Kate’s opinion that those people were idiots. When Mirabelle smiled, a person would be hard pressed to find a more beautiful lady in all of England. It lit up her whole face and made it impossible for one not to smile in return. But Mirabelle wasn’t smiling at present. She was scowling at the house, and though Kate couldn’t be certain, she thought perhaps Mirabelle muttered something under her breath. Something along the lines of “traitorous blighter.”

Mrs. Warrens didn’t appear to hear. “Do excuse me.”

“I shall join you,” Mrs. Summers said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice. “I am quite done in.”

Tall, rail thin, and with sharp, hawkish features, Mrs. Summers looked every inch the imposing governess she had been for the last two decades. But her eyes, which usually betrayed the warm and kind heart hidden behind the disapproving air, now showed only exhaustion.

“Are you well, Mrs. Summers?” Kate asked.

“Quite, dear.” Mrs. Summers patted Kate’s arm. “Just a
trifle tired from the journey. A brief lie down will serve to restore me.”

Kate didn’t believe that for a moment, but she waited until Mrs. Warrens and Mrs. Summers had moved out of earshot before turning to her friend.

“Whatever is the matter with her? Is she ill?”

“Not at all,” Mirabelle assured her. “She’s melancholy. That’s why we’ve come.”

“Melancholy?”

Mirabelle nodded and took Kate’s hand to lead her around the side of the house at a clipped pace. “We need a spot of privacy for this.” She stopped and scanned the side lawn impatiently. “Isn’t there a gazebo or the like about?”

“There’s a bench just on the other side of that half wall.” She pointed at a decorative stone divider. “We could just as easily speak inside, you know.”

“Yes, but first I’d have to go through all the greetings, and I don’t want to wait to tell you—Oh, yes, this will do nicely.” Clearly impatient, she tugged Kate down on the bench. “You’ll never guess what has happened.”

“Whatever it is, it must be very exciting. This is most unlike—”

“Mr. William Fletcher offered for Mrs. Summers.”

Kate sighed with delight. “Oh, that’s
wonderful.
” Not quite as shocking as she’d expected given Mirabelle’s uncharacteristic enthusiasm. It had become fairly clear the two were attached after all, but still it was very nice and—

“Mrs. Summers refused him.”

Kate gasped. That
was
shocking. “What? But she’s violently in love with him.”

That statement garnered a raised brow and a smirk from Mirabelle.

“
Madly
in love with him anyway,” Kate amended. “Mrs. Summers doesn’t do anything violently, except perhaps disapprove, although I suppose she’s really more quietly severe
in that regard than she is violent. I don’t think one can be quiet
and
violent at—”

“Kate.”

“Yes. Right. Why did she refuse him?”

Mirabelle nodded and bent her head forward conspiratorially. “She wouldn’t say at first, so I wrote Sophie with the idea that she would know her former governess well enough to guess.”

“What did she write in return?” Kate asked, wondering how the Duchess of Rockeforte felt about her lifelong companion remarrying.

“She didn’t. And this is where things become very exciting.” Mirabelle leaned in a little more. “Sophie came to Haldon the very next day. She dragged Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Summers into the library, closed the doors, and demanded to know what was the matter with them.”

Kate opened her mouth, closed it. “How do you know what she said if she closed the doors?”

“She demanded violently. At any rate, Sophie exited the library a few minutes later leaving Mr. Fletcher and Mrs. Summers inside. They were arguing—something about how her first husband died, and—”

“A moment,” Kate cut in, holding up a finger. “Mrs. Summers was shouting?”

“Of course not.”

“Then how do you know what
she
was saying? Were you eavesdropping?”

“No, Evie was.”

Kate bobbed her head. “Of course.”

“The argument grew quieter after a few moments, and then Mrs. Summers began to cry—”

Kate winced. “Oh, dear.”

“That’s what Evie and I said, but then she stopped, and Mr. Fletcher said he would consider the matter, and Mrs. Summers said something too quietly to be heard, and then
they came out of the library appearing quite ill at ease with each other. Mr. Fletcher left for London immediately, and Mrs. Summers expressed a desire for a change of scenery. We brought her here.”

Kate shook her head as if to settle all the pieces of information into place. It didn’t help. “They’re not to be married, then?”

“I don’t know,” Mirabelle replied, straightening up. “Mrs. Summers refuses to speak of it except to say that Mr. Fletcher would need to see it through, or she will not accept.”

“See what through?”

“We’ve no idea. And you know how Evie is about ferreting things out, but attempting to pry information out of Mrs. Summers is rather like trying to keep information
in
Lizzy, it’s a fool’s pursuit. At any rate,” she continued as Kate laughed, “we’re bound to find out eventually, and it’s still intriguing news. Plus, it was a very convenient excuse for me to come. Do you know, I’ve never been to a house party not held by your mother or my uncle? I’m rather embarrassed by how delighted I am to be here.”

“You’ll not be delighted for long,” Kate warned her. “Miss Willory is in attendance.”

Mirabelle’s face fell almost comically. “You’re not serious.”

“It’s hardly a jesting matter, is it?” Kate glanced at the house. “I know she’s been very unkind to you in the past—”

“And you and Lizzy and Evie and Miss Heins and—”

“Yes, I know. But her family has fallen onto hard times. And she hasn’t any real friends to speak of. I find myself torn as to how to treat her.”

“You’d give the devil a powder if he claimed a headache.” Mirabelle held up a hand to forestall an argument. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that matter. Is there any other news, unsavory or otherwise, I should be made aware of?”

Out of habit, Kate opened her mouth to inform Mirabelle of each and every event that had occurred since they’d seen
each other last.
I’m involved in the investigation of Lord Martin’s smuggling operation. I kissed Mr. Hunter in a sitting room, twice. I’m hoping to do so again at the earliest opportunity.

She shut her mouth. In part because she was stunned by the last thought, in part because informing Mirabelle of the investigation would
guarantee
Whit knowing of the investigation, and in part because she suddenly realized she wanted to keep how she felt about Hunter private, for now. Which was very odd, indeed. When she’d fancied herself in love with Lord Martin, she’d wanted to do nothing
but
speak of him. She’d nearly driven her friends and family to distraction with her incessant babbling. But then, she wasn’t in love with Hunter, she was simply…growing more curious about the man.

She cleared her throat. “No, no, nothing that would be of interest to you.”

H
unter looked through the window of the Thurston guest room and smiled at the idyllic picture Mirabelle and Kate made sitting on the bench, the late afternoon light gilding their hair and the sea breeze tugging gently at their skirts. He made a note to regularly invite the Thurstons to visit once he and Kate were married. Mirabelle would like that, he mused. She hadn’t often had the opportunity to travel. And he would like seeing his beautiful wife sharing tete-a-tetes with the pretty countess of Thurston on
his
coastal estate. On all five of them, actually.

He indulged in the daydream a moment longer before turning away to watch as Whit issued orders to the staff. In
Hunter’s estimation, Whit was the quintessential peer of the realm—proud, arrogant, and exacting. Each of those traits Hunter could identify with and appreciate. Whit’s unrelenting drive to be the most honorable earl in England, however, was something Hunter was sure he would never fully understand. Honor and nobility were all well and good but sometimes, for some men, the cost for both was too dear.

Hunter imagined Whit would argue that the price of
not
being honorable was the only thing a gentleman couldn’t afford, but then, Whit had never had to choose between thieving or starving.

It was amazing what a man would do for a loaf of bread and a little dignity.

Despite their difference of opinion on that particular matter, Hunter genuinely liked and respected Whit. For a proud, arrogant, honorable and exacting peer of the realm, Whit displayed a remarkable amount of good humor. Which was why, after the last servant left, Hunter had no qualms about beginning the conversation with a smirk and an accusation.

“You brought your wife.”

Whit glanced at him and tossed a small bag on the four-poster bed. “Not bringing her would have appeared suspicious.”

“Does she know why you’re here?”

“No, though I wouldn’t be surprised if she suspected there was more to this trip than an outing to the coast.”

The smirk grew. “She brought herself, didn’t she?”

“It’s my carriage, isn’t it?” Whit asked by way of deflecting the question.

Hunter leaned against the wall and folded his arms. “I’m surprised at you. Allowing your wife to come, allowing your sister to stay. William assumed you’d lock Kate away at Haldon if you thought she might be in any danger. I’m amazed he told you of this mission, let alone put you in charge of it.”

He was pleased as well. Whit wasn’t going to insist Hunter remain completely removed from the investigation.

Whit twisted his lips in disgust. “He wasn’t going to, the bastard. But he received word while he was at Haldon that the agent he had picked for the job came down with the ague. My being chosen as a replacement was a matter of expediency.”

“Doesn’t explain why you’ve not locked up your sister.”

“If I thought Kate was in danger, I
would
lock her up.” Whit shrugged. “Lord Martin poses no real threat. To begin with, William tells me we’re not entirely certain he’s bringing over anything more nefarious than brandy. In addition, a man doesn’t seek to impress the object of his affections by dragging her into a smuggling plot, does he? Your presence here—and in all probability, mine as well—is merely precautionary.”

Hunter rubbed the back of his hand across his jaw. No wonder William had ordered Mr. Laury’s role as an agent be kept secret. Added manpower would not suggest to Whit a mission of limited danger. “You think so?”

“There’s no telling how many gentlemen in the
ton
have their fingers dipped into a smuggling operation here or there. Am I to keep Kate away from all of them?”

A finger dipped in, was not the same as being the sole financier, Hunter thought, and most smuggling operations did not include the possibility of treason, but he wisely let Whit keep his illusions. He didn’t want Kate to leave, after all. He was confident he could keep her safe, and he wasn’t yet ready for the mission to be over. “It’ll be enough for me if you were to simply keep an eye on her from time to time while we’re here. I’d like a chance to spend some time with Lord Martin.”

Whit’s eyebrows winged up. “You’re willing to trade missions for a day? Kate’s company for Lord Martin’s?”

“A morning here and there,” Hunter replied with a shrug.
“A few hours in the afternoon. I can’t spend every waking moment with your sister. People will talk.” He didn’t mind the usual amount of gossip that happened with any courtship taking place at a house party, but he’d just as soon avoid an outright scandal.

Whit nodded in acknowledgment of the point. “I’ll watch her tomorrow. Have you spent much time with Martin in the past?”

“A little at dinners and balls, why?”

“Never a full day?”

“Never had the opportunity, or the desire. He’s a little irritating. Again, why?”

“No reason,” Whit was quick to assure him. “Let me tell you what I learned in London.”

Whit hadn’t learned a damn thing in London, a bit of news Hunter was still mulling over in the library a half hour later while Whit and Mirabelle finished settling themselves in their room.

It was unfortunate—though hardly unusual—that a fellow agent had wasted his time chasing down a false lead. But it was a relief to know they wouldn’t be capturing Lord Martin the next day, putting an end to one of the finest excuses he’d ever come across to spend a protracted amount of time with a lady.

It also would have come as a disappointment to Kate. She was expecting an adventure, and he meant to give her one. He’d start, he decided, by instructing her to search certain portions of the house—now that he’d searched the whole of it and determined there was no danger. And he thought she might like to help organize the plan of capture—once they figured out where Lord Martin was planning to bring in and hide his smuggled goods. Probably, she would enjoy—

The sound of someone playing the piano floated in on the air. No, not just someone, he corrected, as he headed for the
door. It was Kate. No one else could play like that. No one else could even come close. Others played well, or very well, or even splendidly. Kate’s talent transcended those descriptions. It was nothing short of sublime.

He followed the sound to the music room and quietly stood in the doorway to listen.

Here
was the final reason he would marry Lady Kate Cole—her unparalleled talent for music. If Kate’s physical beauty offered a man secular delight, her art offered a glimpse of paradise. And what man wouldn’t wish to spend the rest of his life watching and listening to the beautiful Lady Kate Cole coax the divine from a piano?

Lady Kate
Hunter
, he corrected and, not for the first time, made a mental note to have the instrument of her choice installed in every estate, manor, cottage and town house he owned.

Kate let her fingers rush along the keys as the sound and feel of the sonata rushed about the room.

Here, just as when she danced, she was graceful—her mind and body in accord. The music in her mind blended seamlessly with the music she created with her fingers. She never missed a note, a beat, a rest. There was no accent too nuanced, no emotion too elusive that she couldn’t tease it from the keys. For her, playing the piano was as simple as speaking, as natural as laughter, and as necessary as air.

She slowed her fingers and let the deceptively light melody trip along while she built an underlying current of something stronger in the harmony. It simmered and gathered and then released as the two halves were joined for a dramatic finale.

She sighed happily as the final notes died away. What should she play next? Something darker? Something more complicated? Something—

A tickle crept along her spine and she spun on the bench to find Hunter leaning against the doorframe, watching her.
His stance was relaxed, but there was such an intensity to his gaze as he studied her that the tickle turned into a warm shiver, and she found it impossible to turn away.

Hunter broke the spell, stepping into the room, and pushing the door partially closed behind him. “That was exquisite, Kate.”

She felt herself blush, both from the compliment and from the look that had passed between them. “Thank you.”

“Your own work?” he asked easily.

She nodded and willed herself to match his light tone. “Evie’s seventeenth birthday present.”

“That would have made you what,” he inquired, reaching her, “thirteen years of age?”

“I suppose, yes.”

“Incredible,” he murmured. “She must have been thrilled.”

“Oh, yes, until she learned I had to write it after spending all my pin money on sweets and hair ribbons.”

Hunter laughed and leaned a hip against the piano. “Whit tells me you play other instruments as well.”

“A few, but my preference is for string instruments.” She tapped a key idly. “This one in particular.”

“The piano is a string instrument?”

“Yes, didn’t you know?” When he shook his head, she rose and stepped around him to point inside the piano’s case. “You see? The keys move the hammers, which strike the strings, hence a string instrument.”

He peeked inside. “So it is.”

“You didn’t have a piano about as a child, I presume?” When he merely raised his brows, she shrugged and lowered the prop holding the lid open. “Children are inexorably drawn to anything with a lid. You can’t keep them from trying to look inside.”

“Curiosity is a powerful motivator. It’s how we learn.”

She traced the wood grain of the piano case with her fingers.
“It’s also how we end up”—
kissing handsome pirates in sitting rooms
—“with dead grasshoppers.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” She glanced up at him. He was standing very close. She could smell his soap, and she wondered if he would once again taste like spearmint. Her eyes shot back down to the wood. “Curiosity isn’t always beneficial.”

“Shall we put that to the test?”

She found it impossible to meet his gaze. “And how might we do that?”

He didn’t answer. He simply stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

Hunter was careful with the kiss. It wasn’t a test, as it had been in the sitting room, nor was it an attempt to seduce. He wanted to tempt and entice. He wanted to reassure her that it was safe to give in to curiosity…as long as she was with him.

He teased his lips over hers in a playful game of attack and retreat. Curiosity and security. Adventure and protection. It was a fine line to walk with greed chasing so closely behind, demanding he take more, but it was more easily done than he might have envisioned before it began. Easier because the kiss wasn’t for him. It was for her.

It just happened that kissing Kate
for
Kate suited both his pleasure and his purpose.

Lure her closer, closer still. That was the plan.

To that end, he wrapped his arms tighter and pressed the length of her body against his. Not too tight, he reminded himself, not too close. It was important to let her think she could get away. It was equally important to make certain she didn’t want to.

To
that
end, he took the kiss deeper, letting his mouth settle over hers and gently teasing her lips apart so he could fully taste her, and she him. She gasped when his tongue slid
inside the warmth of her mouth, then moaned and leaned forward seeking out more.

He wanted to give her more. Suddenly, he ached to take everything. Each sigh of breath, every brush of her lips and small movement of her hands stole away bits and pieces of his control, making it increasingly difficult to remember who and what the kiss was about.

It was tempting to forget while the sight and smell and feel of her all but drowned his senses. It would be an easy thing to let his purpose and plans slide away just long enough for lust to gain the upper hand. He could have her undressed in minutes, panting and moaning his name in seconds, and bent over the piano bench—

Bloody hell.
His control, he realized, was nearly at an end.

He softened the kiss in stages, until he was once again holding her loosely and teasing his lips across hers. He kept them that way for several long minutes in an effort to ease her out of the kiss, and not, he assured himself, because he was finding it difficult to let her go.

Finally, when her breath evened and his heart didn’t feel as if it might pound its way out of his chest, he pulled away.

“Do you see?” he whispered, taking her face in his hands. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

“I’m not at all certain of that.” She licked her lips and eyed him warily, which he didn’t mind, and a little suspiciously, which wouldn’t do.

“Well, if you require more convincing…” He bent his head toward her slowly, and grinned as she danced out of his reach on a laugh.

“I believe I’ve had enough convincing for one day, thank you.”

He took a step toward her. “Oh, I don’t know…”

She skipped out of reach again, moving around to the back of the piano. They eyed each other over the wood. He grinned wolfishly. Her light blue eyes sparkled with laughter.

Better, he thought, much better than the suspicion. He would do well to remember she was skilled at games of strategy.

As if to illustrate the point, she feinted left, then dodged right, leading him around the piano until their positions had switched. Then she spun around and bolted for the exit behind her, knowing full well he’d not have time to come around the piano before she reached the door.

She stopped at the threshold to turn about and give him one very smug smile as she stepped backward out the door. “Good day, Mr. Hunter.”

And then she was gone.

Hunter stood alone in the room, his own self-satisfied smile firmly in place. He hadn’t intended to catch her. Not this time. This was one game of strategy he was going to win.