Destined to Last (4 page)

“It’s very sad,” she remarked with a sigh.

Hunter’s dark brows winged up in mild surprise. “Do you think?”

Kate’s brows lowered in confusion. “Do you not?”

“I might,” he admitted after a moment’s thought, “if Lady Renort had desired, or expected fidelity from her husband. But in this instance, the union was strictly a business transaction, and by all accounts, the terms of that transaction were readily agreed upon in advance by both parties.”

“I…” In advance? She couldn’t decide if that sort of heartless union was more, or less sad. “It’s still very sad.”

He glanced over to where Lady Renort was smiling and giggling with a small group of friends. “She appears a happy woman to me.”

“I suppose she does,” Kate conceded, though in her opinion, it was
still
very sad. The woman had traded the chance to love for a title. “Would you care for that sort of match?”

“Would I be comfortable in Lady Renort’s slippers, do you mean?”

The picture was enough to make her laugh. “Or Lord Renort’s boots.”

“Absolutely not,” he replied. “I’d not abide infidelity in my marriage.”

“And what of the terribly businesslike quality?”

Hunter shrugged. “I’d no more want an impractical union than I would a faithless one.”

“Why assume a marriage based on…” She trailed off as a more pressing question occurred to her. “How could you possibly know the details of Lord and Lady Renort’s marriage?”

His lips curved up once again. “Any rake worth his salt keeps apprised of which women of his acquaintance might be open to a spot of debauchery. Lonely wives are generally a fair bet.”

“I…” Her eyes widened in shock a split second before they narrowed in suspicion. “You’re making the lot of this up as you go along, aren’t you?”

“Not the
whole
lot,” he assured her and grinned as she laughed.

In truth, she really didn’t care if it
was
the whole lot. It was still a most intriguing conversation. She’d have liked to continue it, but the musicians were playing the final notes of the waltz, and before she knew it, Mr. Hunter was leading her off the dance floor.

“Shall I escort you to your mother?” he inquired.

Kate glanced to where her mother stood in a small gathering of her friends. Several gentlemen were standing nearby, quite obviously waiting for Mr. Hunter to deliver Lady Kate into her mother’s care.

“I think perhaps I could use another glass of lemonade,” she declared.

“You must be exceedingly uncomfortable by the end of these events.”

She glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“How much food do you have to consume in your little ruse to keep the gentlemen at bay?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again. Was there nothing the man missed?

Mr. Hunter steered her around a small grouping of chairs. “Are you going to tell me I’ve mistaken the situation?”

She thought about it, and decided there wasn’t any point. They’d both know she was lying. “It isn’t necessary that I consume it,” she replied with a shrug. “I need only be near it.”

“That’s it?” he asked with a quick look at the men standing near her mother. “They’re as easily frightened as that?”

For some reason, she felt the need to come to the defense of her suitors. “Occasionally, I have to actually hold something.” She smiled as they reached the refreshment table, remembering a ball in her second season. “I chased off Sir Patrick Arten with a cream pastry once.”

He laughed softly and lowered his arm. “As much as I would like to hear the details of that spectacle, I’m afraid I’ve engaged another young lady for the next dance.” He bowed low. “Lady Kate, it was a pleasure.”

He turned and walked away, and it took an enormous act of will for Kate not to gape at his back. Good heavens, had she just been dismissed?

Yes, she realized as he crossed the room without a single backward glance, yes, she had been. Kate frowned after him.
She’d never before experienced dismissal from a gentleman, and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. After a moment’s consideration, she came to the conclusion that her pride and confidence were still perfectly intact, but she was rather disappointed.

They’d shared a lovely waltz and one of the most entertaining conversations she’d ever had with a man, and then he’d simply walked away…to dance with someone else. How disheartening.

Mr. Hunter was allowed to dance with whomever he chose, of course. She certainly didn’t expect him to stand about speaking to her the entire night. But would it have killed him to give some indication he’d enjoyed the dance as much as she? True, he’d said it had been a pleasure, but
everyone
said that. She’d even said it to Mr. Marshall, and he had a tendency to spit when he spoke.

Confused by his sudden lack of interest, and her sudden increase in interest, she continued to watch as he made his way to a small group of young women standing at the edge of the ballroom. Recognizing the women, Kate clenched her jaw in annoyance.

If he had given up an opportunity to discuss rakes and debauchers with her in order to dance with Miss Mary Jane Willory, she was going to…Well, she couldn’t think of anything she
could
do, actually, except staunchly refuse to ever dance with him again. Miss Willory was a malicious creature. A nasty, selfish, snobbish, cruel and—

She broke off her mental diatribe when she recognized the young woman Mr. Hunter led to the floor not as Miss Willory, but Miss Rebecca Heins. That changed things entirely.

Kate didn’t mind being dismissed for the likes of Miss Heins. She was a tremendously sweet young woman with an unfortunate propensity for underestimating her own worth. That propensity and its accompanying shyness had consigned
Miss Heins to the position of wallflower since her first season.

As Mr. Hunter and Miss Heins began the first steps of their reel, Kate remembered something her brother’s wife, Mirabelle, often said. The very best gentlemen were those who made a point to dance with at least one wallflower at every ball.

Did Mr. Hunter dance with a wallflower at every ball? Having taken pains not to pay attention to the man, she couldn’t say. But he was dancing with one now, which counted for something—

“He’ll notice if you keep staring.”

Kate snapped her eyes away from the dance floor to find her cousin, Evie, standing next to her. Petite but curvaceous with light brown hair and dark eyes, Evie was a lovely woman despite a thin scar than ran from her temple to her jaw, and a barely perceptible limp, both acquired in a childhood carriage accident.

Evie was also an extraordinarily clever young woman with a well-honed talent for ferreting out other people’s secrets. Ordinarily, Kate admired and benefited from that skill. At the moment, however, she rather wished her cousin had taken up watercolors instead.

Kate reached for more lemonade. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Evie merely raised her brows and waited.

Kate winced. “I
loathe
when you do that.”

“Yes, I know. Wouldn’t be nearly as effective otherwise.”

She gave up the pretense. “I was only looking at him,” she grumbled.

“Nothing at all wrong with that,” Evie replied. “He’s very nice to look at.”

“He is handsome,” Kate admitted.

“And quite charming.”

“He’s
exceedingly
charming.”

Evie titled her head at her. “If you’ve an interest in him, why do you avoid him?”

“Because…” Frustrated, she turned back to look at Mr. Hunter yet again. “I’m not certain what sort of interest it is. There’s something about the man…”

“That niggles at your memory,” Evie finished for her. “Yes, you and Lizzy have mentioned it before.”

“It’s not just that,” she replied with a shake of her head. “He’s…I don’t know. He’s
too
charming, when he’s not being impossible. I don’t trust him.”

“You hardly know him.”

She looked at her cousin again. “You’ve spent some time with him.”

A little over a year ago, Evie had spent a considerable amount of time with Mr. Hunter and three others—including her future husband—at a coastal cottage some distance from Haldon. She’d been secluded away in an effort to protect her from a man who’d threatened her life.

“Yes,” Evie replied with a nod before turning to study Mr. Hunter. “I think…I think he’s a good man, at the core.”

“At the core?” Kate frowned thoughtfully. “What of the rest of him?”

“He has some darker spots, I’ll admit.”

“You make him sound like a piece of fruit on the verge of going bad,” Kate said on a laugh.

“No, just one with a few bruises.”

“Pity they can’t be carved out like the soft spots on an apple.”

“Pity apples can’t mend,” Evie countered, reaching for a sandwich. “Then we wouldn’t have to carve them up.”

Did Mr. Hunter need mending? Kate looked back at him, considering, and then, because she was doing entirely too much looking at Mr. Hunter, turned her eyes and her attention away.

“Where is Mirabelle?” she asked Evie.

“As attempts to change the subject go, that lacked subtlety,” Evie commented, then shrugged. “She’s is in the library having a discussion with Whit.”

Kate glanced in the direction of the library. “A discussion or a debate?”

“Well, I didn’t hear any glass breaking when I walked past, so I assume the former.”

Kate smiled at that. Her brother and sister-in-law displayed a passion for arguing that was only exceeded by their passion for each other.

“They’re terribly in love,” she sighed.

It seemed as if nearly all her friends and family were terribly in love. Alex, the Duke of Rockeforte, was happily married to her friend Sophie. Mirabelle was a perfect match for her brother, Whit, and Evie was clearly blissful in her union to James McAlistair. Even Mrs. Summers, her mother’s friend and Sophie’s one-time governess, appeared to have developed an attachment to Mr. William Fletcher.

It bothered her to be the only one who had yet to find a love match, and it bothered her that she should be bothered. It made her feel small and selfish to be anything but delighted by the happiness of those she loved. And it was ungrateful of her not to be content with the blessings she could all ready claim—a loving family, financial security, a passion and talent for music and the engaging goal of one day being recognized for both. It should be enough. It was enough, she told herself firmly.

But where was the harm in indulging, just now and then, in a dream of something more?

L
ord Brentworth’s house parties were not fashionable events. Unbeknownst to the host, they were not merely dull, but
famously
dull. Most notably for the ladies in attendance. A widower of many years, Lord Brentworth apparently had no notion of how to go about entertaining a houseful of women, and clearly had, at some point, decided that the best solution was to leave them to their own devices while the gentlemen did…something else. Most young ladies who had attended in the past would admit to never having been interested enough to inquire what that something else might be. Because taking into consideration the sort of gentlemen who found the exceptionally boring Lord Brentworth to be good company, they all felt it could be safely assumed that whatever the gentlemen were doing, it was dull.

Kate couldn’t have disagreed more. In her estimation, Lord Brentworth’s house parties weren’t dull. They were simply…sedate. She rather liked the sleepy feel of the gathering. It allowed a change of scenery and company without the pressure often experienced at a gathering of the highly fashionable. She could sit in her room and work on her music, or read a book on the veranda, or spend the afternoon with Lizzy, all without being chastised for not being adequately sociable. In addition, Pallton House had a library of enviable size and admirable variety, a lovely pianoforte to play, and a French chef of some renown in residence.

But to Kate’s mind, the finest quality Lord Brentworth’s house party had to offer was its proximity to the English Channel.

She adored visits to the sea—the way it smelled, the way it sounded, the way it engendered a sense of serenity even as its enormity and power made her feel small and insignificant. What drew her most, however, was something she had discovered on her first visit as a child—the sea was the one thing on earth that could completely silence the music in her head.

Kate didn’t mind the string of notes and tunes that so often clamored for her attention. She imagined they were no different than the melodies she heard others go about humming, except that what she heard was detailed, persistent, and
hers.
They were her melodies, her notes and tunes, and they’d brought her a lifetime of pride and pleasure. But sometimes, just every now and then, she wished for a way to silence the music at will.

In a way, the sea afforded her that ability. Whenever she walked close enough, any music she might be hearing stopped. She supposed it was because it had a music of its own—the crescendo as a wave grew near, the crash as it toppled onto the shore, and the soft decrescendo as the water slid back out to sea. It held a power and rhythm as distinct as any well-constructed symphony. And yet it wasn’t something one could hope to put to paper.

Kate very much hoped a spot of quiet would be just what she needed to move past whatever it was that was keeping her from completing her own symphony. It was her first attempt at such a challenging endeavor, and she felt no small amount of pride at having nearly completed the work. And no small amount of aggravation at having
nearly
completed it for several months now. No matter what she did, no matter how hard she tried, a small section in the third movement remained stubbornly, relentlessly silent.

With any luck, the sea, and the peace and control it offered, would change that.

Eventually, she would have to go inside Pallton House
where the sounds of the waves would be too muted to be effective, but for now, she simply stood on the sandy beach and listened, quite content to be at a sleepy house party and equally content to hear nothing but the movement of water.

Until a deep, familiar voice said, “Good afternoon, Lady Kate.”

With her heart firmly lodged in her throat, she whirled about to discover Mr. Hunter standing not six feet behind her. From his relaxed stance and the tousled state of his dark hair, she gathered he’d been standing there for some time…watching her.

“How long have you been standing there?” she demanded.

“I am delighted to see you as well,” he replied, gripping his hands behind his back. “And my journey was quite pleasant, thank you for inquiring.”

“I…” She didn’t bother to hide a wince. “I beg your pardon, that was very rude of me. It’s only…you surprised me. I hadn’t realized you were there…or here, I should say. That is, I hadn’t realized you’d accepted an invitation from Lord Brentworth. My mother and I only just arrived yesterday afternoon and—” And she was rambling, an irritating habit often set off by nerves. “You surprised me,” she concluded lamely.

He angled his head to the side. “A welcome surprise, I hope?”

She considered that and decided there was no point in answering dishonestly. “I’m not certain.”

“An improvement over the outright no I would have received a week ago.” He straightened again, his dark eyes twinkling with humor. “Was it my waltzing abilities that softened you, or my charm?”

“Apparently, it was your absence,” she drawled. “It allowed the memory of your arrogance to dim.”

“Ah.”

“Quite sharp in my mind now, though,” she informed him. Even sharper was that she found the slight disarray of his black hair distinctly appealing. The small flaw softened his otherwise impeccably polished appearance and made him seem more approachable. She supposed that meant it wasn’t a flaw at all, but rather an improvement. Or maybe it was just a simple matter of—

“Delighted to know I’m in your thoughts.”

She blinked at him. Good heavens, had she voiced her opinion of his hair aloud without realizing it? She didn’t think she had, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d made such an embarrassing error. Surely he’d been referring to her earlier comment. The one about his arrogance and—

“Lady Kate?”

She winced for the second time in as many minutes and wished she had spent the morning catching up on the rest an unfamiliar bed had kept from her the night before. She was much easier to distract when she was tired. “I beg your pardon. I was…distracted.”

“By thoughts of me?”

Yes.
“Certainly not. I was thinking…” She lifted a hand to fiddle with the blue ribbons of her bonnet. “I was thinking…about the scenery. I like the sea best this time of day.”

His lips curved up, and he took a small step toward her. “Your back is to the sea.”

“I needn’t look at something to ponder it,” she replied, dropping her hand, and involuntarily taking a small step back. “
Some
of us are capable of abstract thought.”

His smile turned just a little wicked, and his next step was just a little bigger. “That would explain how you managed to think of me in my absence.”

She adamantly refused to back away again. Admittedly, that decision was bolstered by the knowledge she could only back up so far before stepping into the sea. Still, she felt it
should count for something that, despite the way her heart raced and her mouth had gone dry, she managed to stay in place, tip her chin up, and say, “Did you come all the way to Pallton House just to ruffle my feathers, Mr. Hunter?”

He laughed softly, and to what she was certain was her relief and not disappointment, he made no further move toward her. “No. As it happens, I’ve come on business.”

“Oh? What sort of business?”

“The financial kind, among others. Have you an interest in business?”

None whatsoever, she just wanted to change the subject. But she
was
intrigued by the idea that he would ask if she was interested. Like rakes and debauchers, business—particularly that of a financial nature—was not something a gentleman offered to discuss with a woman.

“Would you tell me of it if I said I was interested?” she inquired.

His mouth turned down at the corners, as if he wasn’t quite certain why she’d asked. “Naturally, I would.”

“Oh.” Her mouth turned
up
at the corners because she was surprised at his answer. “Well. Thank you.”

“
Do
you want to hear of it?”

“No,” she replied with a shrug. “But the offer is appreciated.”

She studied him as he laughed, and wondered what it was about him that seemed so familiar to her. Was it his eyes? The shape of his face? She was certain it wasn’t the sound of his voice. She’d gotten the sense they’d met before the first time she’d seen him, and that had been prior to hearing him speak. Perhaps it was the way he smiled, or…Oh, she had no idea.

“Have we met in the past?” she asked abruptly. Much too abruptly. She hadn’t meant to just blurt the question out, but there it was. And since it was too late to take it back, and because he was looking more than a little perplexed, she thought it might be best if she at least tried to clarify the
question. “In the distant past, I mean. The first time we met, I felt as if we’d met before.”

He shook his head. “The first time we met was at Haldon.”

“You’re sure of it?”

“Quite sure.” He leaned forward to speak in a tone that was both teasing and sly. “I’d have remembered meeting the likes of you, Lady Kate. Believe me.”

“Oh, well…” She cleared her throat. “I’m sure it’s just my imagination, then.”

“You’ve been imagining—?”

“Oh, look, there’s Lizzy,” she cut in, her voice sounding unnaturally high even to her own ears. She pointed to where Lizzy was waving at her from the back lawn. “It would seem I’m needed for something. Do excuse me.”

She moved to walk around him, only to have him fall into step beside her. “No need. I was headed in that direction, at any rate.”

She glanced at him, wondering if he had come outside just for her. Pure vanity, she told herself. Just because the man enjoyed vexing her didn’t mean he sought her out for the opportunity to do so. Probably he’d been taking a walk along the beach for his own pleasure and happened to come across her.
Then
he’d enjoyed vexing her.

Kate set the thought aside as Lizzy reached them and bobbed a curtsy at Mr. Hunter.

“Lizzy.” He inclined his head politely, and Kate couldn’t help but notice that the teasing tone and wicked smile he so often employed in her presence was absent as he spoke to Lizzy. “I find you in good health, I trust?”

Lizzy smiled at him, and in such a way that made Kate realize it wasn’t the first time Mr. Hunter had shown her such regard. “I’m perfectly hale. And you?”

“Quite well, thank you.”

Good heavens, were they friends? How could she not
know they were friends? Lizzy had mentioned in the past that Mr. Hunter was always well behaved in her company, but she’d never given any indication that the two of them had developed any sort of bond. Surely if Lizzy had formed a friendship with Mr. Hunter, she’d not have kept it to herself. Lizzy was incapable of keeping
anything
to herself. They weren’t friends, they were simply friendly. Weren’t they?

Lizzy turned her attention from Mr. Hunter. “Your mother sent me to inform you it’s time for tea.”

“Right. Thank you.” Kate took a step toward the house, realized the error in manners and turned round again. “Will you be joining us, Mr. Hunter?”

“I will after a time. I promised Mr. Abbot I’d have a look at his new mare first.” He tipped his head toward the side of the house where the stables were located. “But save me a seat, won’t you, Lady Kate?”

Before she had a chance to respond to that, he bowed again and turned away.

Kate watched him saunter off in the direction of the stables. “I don’t understand that man at all.”

“Mr. Hunter?” Lizzy took her arm and led her toward the house. “What’s not to understand?”

“Who he is. What he wants. Why he…” She trailed off and glanced at Lizzy. “Does he always show you such regard?”

Lizzy stopped walking, her eyes widening considerably. “Beg your pardon?”

“Oh, I don’t mean to imply anything untoward. I…” A horrible thought occurred to her. “I
needn’t
be implying anything untoward…need I?”

Somehow, Lizzy managed to widen her eyes further, and even gape a little. “With Mr. Hunter? How could you think—?”

“I’m sorry. I truly am.” The idea had come entirely unbidden, and she was equal parts ashamed and confused by it now. “It’s only…well, he was most polite to you just now.”

Lizzy tipped her chin up a hair. “What’s wrong with that, then?”

“Not a thing.” Oh dear, she wasn’t improving matters. “It’s only…he’s
not
polite in my company. I assumed he was equally forward with everyone.”

Lizzy relaxed her stance. “Ah. He’s unpleasant toward you?”

“No, not unpleasant. Not entirely. Just not quite so respectful. Are you…friends?”

Lizzy’s expression changed to one of inquisitive amusement. “That would bother you some, wouldn’t it?”

Kate felt her own chin tip up. “It would not.”

Lizzy studied her a moment before nodding once in a supremely knowing sort of manner. “It would. And it’d not have a thing to do with my being a maid.”

“I would
not
be bothered,” Kate insisted, and resumed their walk toward the house at something less than a ladylike pace.

Lizzy fell into step beside her. “You
would
and—” She broke off with a laugh. “I feel as if we’re eight again.”

Kate leapt at the chance to change the subject. “Shall I pull your hair until you admit I’m right?”

“You never pulled my hair,” Lizzy replied with a snort.

“No, but I recall you pulling mine once. Revenge is long overdue.”

“I can’t believe your brother didn’t take a strap to me for that,” Lizzy commented with a dramatic wince.

“Whit isn’t the sort to take a strap to anyone, least of all a child. And you were sent to bed without dinner, if I recall.”

Lizzy smiled. “You tried to sneak me a bit of roast.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Kate murmured, remembering. She’d put the meat in a napkin, and the napkin up her sleeve. “Dreadful idea.”

“The gravy did create something of a mess. Evie fared better with her buttered roll.”

“Evie’s better at being sneaky. Where did she hide that, do you suppose?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“For the best, no doubt,” Kate commented as they pushed their way through a back door of the stone manor. It was also for the best that the topic of Lizzy’s relationship with Mr. Hunter had been dropped.