Lady Midnight (22 page)

Kate pressed her lips together to prevent even a hint of a giggle from emerging. "Does she?"

"And I doubt she has ever read a book in her life."

"Not even
The Haunted Castlel
Books are very important."

"Indeed they are."

Kate waited to see if he would say anything further of Miss Emmeline Ross, but it appeared the topic was closed. So she decided to be very bold and ask the question that balanced eagerly on the tip of her tongue. "Do you have no thoughts of remarrying, Mr. Lindley?"

Michael studied the glowing tip of his cheroot in silence for a long moment. When he looked up at her, his gaze was solemn, no laughter lurking in the depths of his eyes, as there so often was. "No, Mrs. Brown. I don't."

Kate turned away, utterly ashamed she had said such a thing. His matrimonial goals were none of her business, after all. None at all. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"Don't be sorry, Mrs. Brown," he answered, his tone still serious and distant, but not quite as dark. "You take care of my daughter—you are right to ask such things that concern her. But if you knew the truth of my marriage, you would know why I will never take another wife."

Kate was utterly bewildered. The truth of his marriage appeared to be that his wife had been a beautiful lady who died tragically young. Surely he would want another such proper, comfortable union?

Or perhaps he was still lost in grief. Perhaps no other lady could compare with his lost wife, and he would rather live with her ghost than with any flesh and blood woman. That thought was just too inexpressibly sad.

But there was no time for further questions or conversation. The music from the assembly room was ending, and Kate would not have known what to say, anyway. She watched as he extinguished the cigar and offered his arm to escort her back to the building

She knew what she wanted to
do.
She longed to hold him close to her, to kiss him until he forgot his sorrow and his lost wife. She wanted to feel the soft saltiness of his lips beneath hers, his skin under her hands, until all the past, his
and
her own, vanished forever.

But they had reached the steps and were climbing up them into the light and reality of the assembly. Her sharp longings disappeared, leaving behind only a certain sad wistfulness, a deep ache.

They paused together in the small doorway, her hand falling away from his arm as they watched the new set forming, partners seeking each other out in the crowd. Christina and Mr. Price stood in the corner, speaking together earnestly. No doubt they were going over the finer points of the properties of Linnaeus's taxonomy, all very proper, but Kate needed to join them and fulfill her chaperone duties.

"There is Lady Christina," she said, pointing the girl out to Michael.

"Yes. I suppose we should go over there, see what she and young Price thought of the dance." Michael paused, and for an instant Kate thought he might take her arm again. Might draw her close to his side. It felt like a natural, if unorthodox, thing to do, but finally he just stepped back and said, "Would you not like to dance, Mrs. Brown?"

"Dance?"
Only if it is with you,
she longed to shout.

The thought of gliding across the floor in Michael's arms, twirling and laughing—it would be utter bliss.

Yet it could not be. Not tonight. Kate shot one wistful glance at the dancers and said, "Oh, no. I must do my duty to your sister."

"Of course," he answered quietly. "We must both do our duties, of course."

Kate nodded, and turned to make her way toward Christina—and lonely safety.

* * *

Michael watched Kate Brown walk away from him. She was like an exotic peacock in her dark blue gown, her black hair gleaming in the candlelight, entwined with silvery ribbons—a peacock among chattering pastel sparrows. Many people watched her as she crossed the room, the men admiring, longing even, and the women uncertain, curious, suspicious. But she did not appear to notice anything. She just kept walking, her posture princess-perfect, head high, not looking to the left or right, until she reached Christina and Mr. Price in the corner.

To them, she gave a sunny smile, full of open friendliness. The pale perfection lit up with that smile, turning the remoteness of her beauty into something truly glorious. Like a sunburst on a summer's day, or the end of a winter rainstorm when the light peeked forth from behind heavy gray clouds.

What he would not give to have her smile at
him
like that, to be welcomed into her mysterious heart just for a moment.

"Mr. Lindley?" a woman's voice said at his side, suddenly making him realize that he was staring at Kate Brown like a love-starved calf. Just as almost every other man in the room was doing. And people would surely notice, if they had not already. He would be an utter cad if he exposed her to gossip after only such a short time in the neighborhood.

He tore his gaze away from Kate's smiling lips and turned to see Lady Ross next to him. His mother's social rival was a small woman, not even coming up to his shoulder, and her round face possessed the echoes of a sweet beauty. The curls that peeped from beneath her purple silk turban had once been as red as her daughters', but were now a pale dusty rose. She looked to be everything that was soft and genteel.

But her cat-green eyes were sharp.

"Lady Ross," he said, giving her a small bow. "I hope you are enjoying the assembly?"

"Oh, I am really too old for such frivolity now, I fear," she answered with a laugh. "I would rather stay home at Ross Lodge next to a good fire. But my girls do so enjoy dancing, I could not deprive them. Emmeline especially." She gestured with a folded fan, sending Michael's attention toward her daughter. Emmeline was twirling happily in the dance, her cheeks pink and her tawny curls bouncing. "Such a lively girl she is!"

Lively indeed,
Michael thought. But not the lady for him, if only his mother and Lady Ross could be brought to see that.

His glance slid from Emmeline Ross to Kate Brown. Her sleek, dark head was tilted to the side as she listened to Christina, a small smile on her lips—the very picture of dignity, serenity, and mystery.

"All of your daughters are very pretty, Lady Ross," he said noncommittally.

"And they always enjoy meeting with your family. Emmeline tells me that your daughter grows prettier all the time, and so accomplished. Emmeline is vastly fond of children."

"Thank you, Lady Ross. Amelia
is
very pretty, though I do say so myself."

Lady Ross nodded, then obviously decided she had made her point and changed topics. "I was sorry your mother could not be here."

"So was she, Lady Ross. But I am sure her headache will be better tomorrow."

"I shall call on her in the afternoon, with a bottle of my cherry cordial." Lady Ross's catlike green eyes slid across the crowd to narrow on Mrs. Brown. "In the meantime, your—governess, is she?—appears to be doing an adequate job as chaperone."

Michael watched as Kate said something quietly to Christina, who burst into giggles, covering her mouth with her gloved hand.
Adequate, indeed.
He had not seen Christina laugh so much in a very long time.

"Yes, Lady Ross," he answered. "Mrs. Brown has not been with us very long, but she is doing wonders for my sister."

"I am glad
someone
is able to," Lady Ross murmured. "My own daughters were never allowed to wander so freely about the moors. There are so many dangers lurking out there for young ladies. But Lady Christina is in very fine looks tonight."

"Thank you, Lady Ross," Michael said again, trying not to laugh aloud at her not well-veiled hints.

"Mrs. Brown is quite—exotic-looking," she went on. "She is not from some heathen place like Turkey or Persia, is she?"

"Mrs. Brown is from Venice. The widow of an English soldier."

"Hmph." Lady Ross's tone said that surely Venice was only a tiny step up from the stews of Constantinople. But then she dropped the subject of Mrs. Brown altogether and gave Michael her most charming smile. "I think the evening must be almost over, Mr. Lindley. Would you not care for one more dance? I am sure Louisa or Emmeline would be vastly happy to oblige you."

Michael pasted on an expression he hoped was politely rueful. "That would be a great delight, Lady Ross, but I fear my leg will not permit more than a dance or two in one evening."

"Oh, of course!" Lady Ross cried, all solicitude. "You always seem so very hale and hearty, Mr. Lindley, that one quite forgets—well, never mind. Perhaps a quick hand of cards? I have not had a good game of piquet all evening."

"Of course, Lady Ross. I would enjoy a game myself." He offered his arm to her, and she adroitly steered him toward the card room, chattering about some other sterling quality her Emmeline possessed.

Perhaps she thought that in the card room he would be shut away from Kate Brown's siren song. Little did Lady Ross know that not a wall, or a door, or a field, or even the cocoon of sleep, could make him cease to think of her. She had haunted his thoughts ever since he saw her standing alone on the moor, and surely she would continue to until he discovered all the truth about her.

Chapter 12

"That wasn't so dreadfully terrible, after all," Christina commented as she and Kate made their way up the staircase at Thorn Hill to their chambers. She sounded comically surprised.

Kate laughed. "No, it was very pleasant. And Mr. Price seems like a nice young man."

Christina shrugged carelessly. "He's nice enough. Better than Mr. Haigh-Wood or Lord Carrollton. At least Mr. Price is interested in scientific matters."

They had reached the door to Kate's room. "Speaking of scientific matters, Lady Christina—wait here. I have something for you."

Christina's sleepy eyes brightened. "Something for
me,
Mrs. Brown? Oh, no, you've already given me the rose lotion."

"This is different. Just wait a moment." Kate slipped into her chamber and, by the light of the fire already laid in her small grate, found the package she had tucked in the bottom of her wardrobe. She felt almost giddy as she pulled it out, its light weight balanced in her hands.

So seldom in her life had she had the chance to
give.
It was an odd, warm feeling, so different from the cold gratitude, the obligation of
taking.
It was a sensation she could get dangerously used to.

Christina stood patiently in the corridor when Kate reappeared, Christina's expression curious and excited as she took the package.

"Oh, what is it?" she asked, turning the gift over and over in her hands. "Is it—oh." Her eyes narrowed. "It isn't another copy of
La Belle Assemblee,
is it?"

Kate laughed. "No, no! Just open it and see. I hope you don't already have it. The bookseller in Suddley said it is a new edition."

Christina tore away the wrapping.
"Species Plantarum!"
she cried. "Oh, Mrs. Brown, this is the finest gift ever. It is a classic of botanical theory." With no warning at all, she lunged across the corridor to throw her arms around Kate. "Thank you so very much."

Kate wasn't sure what she should feel, or how she should react. Her mother had always taught her that the happiness of other people was a commodity, something a woman must create and build on until she could turn it to her advantage and gain what she wanted.

But right now, at this instant, Christina's happiness was its own reward. It made Kate happy, too. It made her forget all the curious stares at the assembly, the petty snobbery and hidden whispers about her "foreignness."

The only thing
nothing
could make her forget was the sharp disappointment at not being able to dance with Michael.

She returned Christina's exuberant hug, and even kissed her cheek before the girl stepped away. "I thought you deserved a small treat after your beautiful behavior at the assembly."

Christina stared down at the book in wonder, as if it were a casket of rubies. "You do understand, Mrs. Brown."

"Understand?"

"About my interests. Botany isn't just something that's a pastime, a hobby until I get married. It's..." She paused, frowning as she searched for words. "It's important. When I study how nature works, I feel as if I'm catching a glimpse of the mind of God. Do you see?"