Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage (11 page)

“That’s enough, Kate. Thank you. I shouldn’t be asking so much of you.”

“If I remember anything, I’ll tell you immediately,” she assured him.

“Thank you.” He glanced away briefly. “Now to discuss a more pleasant topic.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a smile that made her heart do a little flip. The stubble was back on his chin and cheeks this late at night, and she was doing her best to ignore it.

“What topic is that, my lor … James?” She cleared her throat.

He crossed his booted feet at the ankles and rested his hands on his thighs. “You said you wanted to live. That was the bargain, was it not? Annie and Lily assure me your trip to the countryside is being planned as we speak. What
else
would you like to do?”

She smiled. “Now
that
I’ve been thinking about and I believe I’ve decided.” She bit her lip, a bit hesitant to admit to him the other thing she’d been wanting. But if he didn’t laugh her out of his home over the desire to visit a farm, this next thing would probably not surprise him one bit. She took a deep breath. “I want to dance at a ball.”

James blinked and his hands dropped to his sides. “A ball?”

She nodded. “Yes. I only attended one ball in my life, before I was married. It was so beautiful and perfect. It was the last time I can remember being happy. Wearing beautiful clothing and enjoying myself. Dancing and laughing and not having a care in the world. I know it’s winter and I know we cannot have guests and moonlit gardens and champagne on the balcony, but oh, James, I want to dance.”

James gave her a conspiratorial grin that made her heart beat faster again. “If it’s a ball you desire, my lady, a ball you shall have.”

CHAPTER 15

When Mrs. Hartsmeade and two maids arrived in Kate’s bedchamber that afternoon armed with pins, scissors, thread, and fabric, Kate didn’t know what to make of it.

“His lordship has instructed us to make you a ball gown,” Mrs. Hartsmeade announced.

“A what?” Kate asked, turning in a circle while Louisa measured her waist.

“A ball gown, your grace,” Louisa replied with a bright smile.

“His lordship says he regrets he couldn’t have the finest seamstresses from Bond Street come to work on your gown, but he couldn’t risk the … well, you know.” Mrs. Hartsmeade glanced away.

Kate nodded. “It’s certainly very nice of him and all of you, but I don’t need a real ball gown—”

“No, your grace, he insisted upon it. He picked out the color himself. This gold.” She handed the swath of lovely satin fabric to Kate. “‘It’ll bring out the highlights in the duchess’s hair,’ he said. Though I doubt he’d like it if he knew I repeated such a thing to you.” Mrs. Hartsmeade smiled, and Kate swallowed and pressed her hand to her belly where butterflies had just taken flight.

“He said that?” she asked, feeling like an eighteen-year-old about to make her debut again.

“He did,” Louisa reassured her. “I heard him.”

Kate bit back her smile. She reached out and gingerly touched the gold satin. It was the most beautiful fabric she had ever seen. Why, she couldn’t have picked better herself. “Then, by all means, let’s make me a ball gown.”

By the time the afternoon was over, Kate and the three servants had giggled themselves silly deciding upon all the details of the gown including the décolletage. “Lower,” Kate had insisted, making Louisa blush. She was being improper, no doubt, but this might well be her last chance to dance with a handsome man at a ball in a low-cut gown. And she wanted to live after all.

By the time Mrs. Hartsmeade ushered Louisa and the other maid from her bedchamber, the gown had been entirely designed, was well on its way to being made, and Kate had smiled more than she had in an age. She threw herself on her bed and hugged her pillow. A ball. She was going to attend a ball. And with the ever-so-dashing Lord Medford. She kicked her legs against the cool sheets and squealed into the pillow.

*   *   *

It was two days later before the gown was complete. Kate had spent those two days in a completely unsuccessful attempt to write the pamphlet. She’d spent time reading Lily’s and Annie’s pamphlets over and over again, hoping one or both would spark some idea for her. Make her come up with some formula for success. Both of their pamphlets hinted at scandal and had a bit of a warning tone, but Kate couldn’t imagine how hers ought to be. It would not be a confession. Nor a plea for mercy. She just wanted it to be … honest. Just what James had asked of her. To tell her story, in her words. But what if no one believed her? What if the pamphlet was not a top seller as James had predicted? What if copies were burned in the street? Burned … She gulped. She couldn’t think about that. She must do her best.

Mrs. Hartsmeade came into the study on the second afternoon to announce the ball gown’s completion. She and the girls had worked day and night to sew the fabulous garment and after a few fun fittings, they were ready to declare it finished.

“It’s beautiful,” Kate said, touching the wide skirt reverently, tracing her fingers along the delicate fabric.

“His lordship asked me to give you this.” Mrs. Hartsmeade handed Kate a piece of parchment sealed with wax. Kate widened her eyes and grasped the piece of paper, ripping it open and scanning it quickly. It was an invitation. To Viscount Medford’s ball. The man had thought of everything.

“And you are the guest of honor, your grace,” Mrs. Hartsmeade said with another quick wink.

Kate bit her lip, also biting back the little squeal of happiness that rose to her lips.

She playfully curtsied to the housekeeper. “Please tell his lordship that I shall be most delighted to attend.”

*   *   *

Kate stood in front of the looking glass in her bedroom, butterflies in her stomach again, and a tentative grin on her face. She felt like Cinderella. Certainly her first ball gown had never been this grand. She twirled in a circle. They’d made her wide skirts, reminiscent of the turn of the century in France, with a tight, corsetlike bodice and long sleeves that ended in points on the tops of her hands. It was a lovely gown and Kate felt like a dream in it, petticoats and all.

Louisa had put up her hair in a chignon with a few wisps pulled out to frame her face, and somehow Mrs. Hartsmeade had secured a pot of rouge and Kate dabbed the stuff on her lips and her cheeks and even the smallest bit between her daring décolletage.
Live. Live Live.
She sung to herself.

She took another look in the mirror and sucked in her breath. She didn’t have any jewels, true, but that was perfectly all right. It wasn’t a real ball. She stared at her reflection. Would Lord Medford think she was beautiful? Oh, why was she even thinking such a thought? It didn’t matter. This entire night was just for fun. Nothing more, nothing less. It was not as if James were a suitor and she a young innocent looking for a husband. In fact, the situation could not be more opposite. She was an accused murderess who had forced the man to throw a pretend ball for her. No, this was not a night for moonlit gardens and stolen kisses. It was freezing outside and she was a prisoner, she thought with a wry smile.

Apparently, she could romanticize anything. She sighed. No sense in waiting any longer. She wanted to dance. She smoothed her eyebrows with her fingertips and gathered up her voluminous golden skirts. Mrs. Hartsmeade had even brought her delicate golden slippers that Lord Medford had apparently purchased for her on Bond Street. He must have set the gossipmongers’ tongues wagging with that purchase. Or wait. Perhaps he’d sent Lily or Annie to do it. That would make much more sense. And those ladies seemed so kind and thoughtful. No doubt the sisters had picked out the beautiful little slippers with the golden bows on the tips.

Kate moved to the door to her bedchamber and reached out to pull the handle just as Louisa came barreling through. “Oh, your grace, beg your pardon.” The maid bobbed a curtsy. She was holding something behind her back.

“Did you forget something, Louisa?” Kate asked.

“No, that is to say …
I
didn’t.” She had a curious sparkle in her eye.

Kate couldn’t help but smile. “What is it?”

Louisa pulled a midnight-blue velvet case from behind her back and presented it to Kate with both hands. “It’s from his lordship, your grace. He wanted to be sure you wore them tonight.”

Kate gingerly took the velvet case and flipped it open with her thumb. “Oh my!” There, nestled inside the cream silk lining, was the most beautiful set of sapphires in a necklace she’d ever seen. They were large, round, and sparkling. And there were matching ear bobs. “He said they’d bring out your eyes,” Louisa said, fluttering her own eyelashes.

Kate was sure her cheeks were turning pink and her chest felt so tight she couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my goodness, Louisa. These are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Quick. Help me put them on.” She hurried back over to the looking glass and held up the wisps of hair that would be in the way while Louisa took the sapphire necklace and fastened it around her neck.

“I feel like squealing,” Kate admitted, bobbing on her tiptoes. “But I shall refrain.”

“Duchesses squeal?” Louisa asked from behind her with wide eyes that reflected at Kate through the looking glass.

“I don’t know about all the duchesses, but duchesses who were raised on farms do.” She winked at the maid and Louisa gave her a wide, conspiratorial grin.

“If there was anything for a duchess to squeal about, I’d certainly say these jewels qualify,” Louisa replied.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Kate took two very deep breaths and exhaled.

“I’ve noticed you do that, your grace,” Louisa said, motioning to Kate with her chin.

“Do what?”

“Take two deep breaths every so often.”

“Oh, that,” Kate replied. “Yes, my mother taught me that. ‘There’s nothing two deep breaths won’t cure,’ she always said. Especially nerves.”

“You’re nervous?” Louisa asked, wide-eyed again.

Kate laughed and turned to face the maid. “Why, yes, of course. Isn’t every young woman nervous before a ball?”

Louisa glanced down at her hands. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to ball.”

Kate winced. She pinched the inside of her arm. Of course the maid hadn’t been to a formal ball before. What possible occasion would she have had to go to one?

“I’ll tell you what, Louisa, come to the ballroom later, wear your best dress, and I’ll ask Lord Medford to dance with you.”

Louisa’s eyes looked as if they’d pop from her skull this time. “No, my lady. I absolutely could not!”

Kate laughed. “Why, of course you could. Why not?”

Louisa’s chin trembled. “Because it’s completely improper.”

Kate waved a hand in the air. “Oh, who cares about being proper? Besides, I’m a duchess and I’ve invited you.”

Louisa looked up at her through long lashes. “Do you truly think … Lord Medford wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m sure he’d be delighted. I had neighbors in the country who used to host servants’ balls once a year. I’m sure he’s heard of such a thing before.”

“Yes.” Louisa bit her lip. “I’ve heard of it too, but we’ve never done it here.”

“First time for everything,” Kate replied. She glanced at the clock on the mantel across from the bed. “It’s nearly ten o’clock now. Come at midnight.”

Louisa grinned from ear to ear. “I might just peek in and see how it’s going…”

“Come in, Louisa. And dance. I insist upon it. If Lord Medford won’t dance with you, I’ll dance with you myself.”

Louisa laughed outright at that, and Kate patted her shoulder.

“Now I must hurry,” Kate said. “Mustn’t keep Lord Medford waiting. Thank you for everything.” She squeezed the maid’s hand and quickly hurried over to the door. She pulled the handle and made her way into the corridor.

Kate nearly flew down the hall, rounded the marble balustrade, and made her way as elegantly as possible to the ballroom. Locke stood at the entrance to the room wearing his finest livery. Her eyes went wide when she saw him. What was the butler doing there?

“Miss Kate Blake,” he announced. Kate was delighted. He’d called her by her maiden name. He hadn’t introduced her as the Duchess of Markingham, didn’t call her “your grace,” and was it her imagination or did the man wink at her when she walked past him into the ballroom?

The moment she stepped through the door, Kate caught her breath. She pressed her hand against her middle and took in the scene that lay before her. The entire ballroom was transformed. It had been decorated as if an arbor had come to life inside. Flowers lined the walls, vines had been brought in, hanging greens were everywhere. Why, the man must have raided every conservatory in the land. Where he’d managed to get beautiful fresh flowers in the middle of winter she’d never know. But they were there, all sorts, including red, red roses. Her very favorite. It looked exactly like a … moonlit garden. Just what she’d requested. Unexpected tears stung the back of her eyes. No one—never her husband, certainly—had ever done anything quite so … nice for her before.

There was a refreshment table off to the far right, and a group of musicians stood behind a wooden screen tuning their instruments.

Kate glanced around breathlessly. She was in the middle of a dream. She was sure of it. A movement from the other side of the room caught her eye.

There he was, standing in the middle of the dance floor, surveying the ballroom, a single red rose twirling between his fingers, his other hand in his pocket. He was wearing impeccably tailored black evening clothes, superfine trousers, a black overcoat, and a shirtfront so white it nearly blinded her. His cravat was tied in a perfect knot, but most intriguing of all was the look he wore on his face. So handsome he took her breath away. Kate quickly glanced down to compose herself. Then she turned her face up again and smiled.

He made his way over to her slowly and she curtsied. “My lord.”

He bowed. “My lady.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket and held out his arm to her. She stepped closer and slid her hand through, marveling at the feel of his warm muscles through his coat. She took a deep breath.