The Duke's Accidental Wife (Dukes of War Book 7) (19 page)

Kate sat on the floor of her great-aunt’s sitting room thanking the heavens for Jasper the puppy.

He was the one thing helping to keep her mind off everything that could go wrong or right at tomorrow’s inauguration of the London Society of the Creative and Performing Arts.

Aunt Havens was in a wingback chair, hunched over a scrap of embroidery that she still refused to let anyone see. Such spells had been happening more and more often.

Ravenwood was with the House of Lords. As usual. But not only did Parliament adjourn next week, there was no meeting tomorrow. Her husband would be free for the entire evening, as would all of the other peers making up the House of Lords.

Kate hadn’t been able to promote the event as much as she would have liked, for fear of an uncomfortable incident with Aunt Havens.

She wasn’t willing to risk her aunt getting into trouble or danger, nor was she willing to risk subjecting her aunt to the level of humiliation she’d suffered as the brunt of Phineas Mapleton’s cruel comments.

So she’d stayed in. And concentrated on being mistress of Ravenwood House.

Nonetheless, a steady stream of missives had flooded her escritoire, letting Kate know that this earl and that baroness were delighted to attend her event, and intended to ensure their financial contribution would be the largest.

It was baffling. Terrifying. Exhilarating.

She thrummed with so much nervous excitement, she could barely sit still, let alone eat or sleep.

“Your grace?”

Kate lifted her head up from the puppy to see the butler and a gaggle of footmen clustered in the doorway. “Yes, Simmons?”

“Several large crates have just arrived for you.” He cleared his throat. “The calling card merely reads, ‘Repeating history.’”

He held out the card, but Kate had no need to see it. She was already on her feet, handing Jasper off to Aunt Havens.
Repeating history
could only mean one thing.

The furniture had arrived!

“Take everything to the back parlor. The one with the Ravenwood family portrait.”

The butler blinked as if he did not quite comprehend her orders. “Your grace?”

“It’s not Egyptian artifacts, Simmons. I swear.” She grinned at him and clasped her hands to her chest.

This was perfect. This was better than perfect. It was not only exactly what she needed to distract her mind from tomorrow’s inaugural gala, it was perfect timing for Ravenwood as well. He had mentioned he thought he might be able to make it home early. Perhaps she could reveal her surprise to him this very night!

She raced to the parlor in order to direct the footmen as to where to put which piece.

As it turned out, no such direction was necessary. Not only was a visual map staring back at them from the painting, the butler had served long enough to remember the room as it was twenty years ago and needed no instruction on arranging each item.

Once the staff realized what was inside the crates, their enthusiasm matched Kate’s own. They marveled at the uncanny resemblance of the new pieces to the old painting. Simmons’ only complaint was that if anything, the replacement furniture was in better condition than the originals.

Kate hugged herself. She couldn’t wait to see Ravenwood’s expression when he saw the reconstruction. He would see how much she cared. How hard she was trying to know
him
. To make him happy.

“When is the last time my husband came by this room?” she asked the footmen.

They glanced at each other uncomfortably. “Not since the day you took down your Egyptian things.”

Her spirits fell a little. She had pictured him visiting the parlor every night. Imagined herself incredibly clever for having slipped the painting out for an entire day without him noticing. When in fact, he might not visit again unless she dragged him here by the hand.

“Is that usual?” she asked the butler. “Has he always avoided this parlor?”

Simmons shook his head. “The longest he ever went between visits was a few days at the most.”

She frowned. “Then why hasn’t he been by for weeks?”

The butler’s smile was kind. “He gave the east wing to you.”

She blinked rapidly. Foolish man. But not as big a fool as herself, for not realizing how much he was giving up when he’d proclaimed the east wing as hers.

Well, she was about to give it back.

“In that case, please don’t tell him what we’ve done.” She gave the staff a conspiratorial grin. “Now that I know he won’t see the room until I show him, I’d like to pick the perfect moment. Next week, I think, when Parliament has adjourned and we have more time for each other.”

The footmen nodded and promised not to spill a word. Simmons complimented her on the fine work, and assured her his grace would love every inch of it.

Kate smiled back. She no longer wanted Ravenwood to love the furniture. She wanted him to love
her
.

As she walked back to her aunt’s sitting room, Kate’s mind hummed with thoughts of how her future with Ravenwood might be. Which led to thoughts of what the future might bring in general.

Which led to thoughts of Aunt Havens.

She was fine for right now—
mostly
fine, anyway—but Kate needed to keep her safe when she wouldn’t be able to be by her side.

Ravenwood
, she remembered suddenly.

Warmth spread through her. She was no longer in this alone. Her spirits lightened. Gone were the days of Kate and Aunt Havens against the world. Now there were three of them. Ravenwood would keep everyone safe.

She reentered her aunt’s sitting room just in time to see Aunt Havens swat Jasper out of her embroidery basket.

“Beastly creature,” she muttered with a comical eye roll toward Kate. “Can’t he see I’m working?”

Kate scooped the adorable beast into her arms and stretched out on the chaise longue. “What are you working on?”

“A gift for you.”

Kate sat up, intrigued. “What is it?”

Aunt Havens hid the basket from view. “Something for you to remember me by. I think you’ll love it.”

Kate’s heart skipped a beat as the blood drained from her face. “I don’t need a gewgaw to remember you by. Don’t
say
things like that.”

“Memories are good things, not bad things, Kate.” Aunt Havens smiled. “Just think of all the memories you’re making with your husband. Isn’t life so much richer with love in it?”

“My life is richer with both of you in it.” Kate pushed stiffly to her feet, leaving Jasper to look after her aunt. “I’m going to my room to begin preparing for tomorrow. When you decide to stop talking nonsense, knock on my door.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Kate’s eyes refused to focus on her wardrobe. She was too afraid. Her heart seized up every time she considered the possibility of losing Aunt Havens.

Of course she knew her aunt would die someday. Everybody eventually died. But there was no reason to prepare for death
now
. Not today, not this year, not anytime soon.

Aunt Havens might get confused sometimes, but she was otherwise in the peak of health. More fragile than before? Perhaps. Too thin? Possibly. But no one was asking her to scale a mountain. Her days were filled with nothing more strenuous than petting a puppy and embroidering squares of linen.

As long as she stayed here at home, took her meals with Kate, and spent her time relaxing—there was no reason to think there weren’t many happy years ahead of them. Decades, even.

Aunt Havens had cared for Kate her entire life, and now it was Kate’s turn to keep Aunt Havens safe.

When at last the knock came on Kate’s door, she sagged with relief. Aunt Havens had abandoned her funereal line of thought and had decided to help Kate select her wardrobe for tomorrow’s event after all.

Except the knock hadn’t come from the corridor, but rather the connecting door leading to her husband’s bedchamber.

A glance at the clock on the mantel indicated it was far too early for Ravenwood to be home from Parliament, but why on earth would his valet be begging entrance at this hour? Or—God forbid—Aunt Havens hadn’t come to patch things up and accidentally wandered into the wrong bedchamber, had she?

Heart in her throat, Kate flung the door open wide.

Broad shoulders, a mop of chestnut curls, and clear green eyes met her gaze.

“Ravenwood?” she choked out in surprise, a half-hysterical laugh wheezing from her lungs.

He lifted a brow. “You were expecting someone else?”

She threw herself into his arms and wrapped her arms about him tight.

Yes. Yes, she had been expecting someone else. Yes, her aunt was becoming so erratic that for a moment, she had truly believed her aunt had entered the wrong bedchamber and was trying to find her way out.

Kate buried her face in his chest, but the words would not come. They hurt too much. Scared her too deeply. She didn’t wish to talk about her aunt’s fickle sanity. She didn’t want to think about what it might mean.

She just wanted to forget. To feel better. To let someone else be in charge.

Ravenwood was safe. His arms were safe. Warm, strong, dependable. He had never let anyone down in his life. He was the one person she could rely on without fail.

She hugged him tighter.

“What happened?” he asked as he stroked her hair.

“Aunt Havens,” Kate mumbled against his cravat.

He tilted her face toward his, frowning. “Is she all right?”

“
Yes
,” she said fiercely. “But she acts like she’s going to die.”

Ravenwood made no answer.

Kate appreciated his reserve. She didn’t need to be told the obvious—that someday it would happen. That it would hurt deeply. That she would never truly get over it.

Ravenwood understood. He would not be a duke today if he too had not experienced loss. He knew better than to fill the silence with platitudes about
enjoy the moments you have
or
she’ll go to a better place
. Those things were true, but right now they gave no comfort.

Only his warm, steady embrace brought comfort.

“You’re home early,” she murmured into his chest.

“You’re up late,” he countered softly. “’Twas the first time I returned from Parliament and saw light still flickering beneath the door. Are you tired? Do you want to sleep?”

“Yes. No.” She gave a hiccupy laugh at her own muddled thoughts. “I don’t know.”

He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bed.

She was already in her nightrail. She’d gone ahead and prepared for bed once she’d realized her mind was incapable of focusing on tomorrow. She hadn’t climbed into bed, however, because she had been hoping for a knock at the door.

Now that he had arrived, she wasn’t certain she was ready to be left alone. But he was a busy man. He hadn’t yet had a chance to unwind from his exhausting parliamentary session.

She knew what a toll being around so many people took on him. To recover, he needed privacy. Not a wife plagued by fears of an eventuality that could still be many years away. She would not be offended if he bid her goodnight and retreated to his own chamber.

He tucked her into bed, then sat in the closest chair to begin tugging off his boots.

She held her breath as he removed his gloves, his overcoat, his waistcoat, and piled each neatly folded item on the cushion of an empty chair.

When he was clad in nothing more than soft calfskin breeches and the billowing white lawn of his undershirt, he slid beneath the sheets of her bed and pulled her back into his arms.

She clutched him tight.

He kissed the top of her head and just held her.

“Aunt Havens thinks she’s going to die,” she whispered after her heart had calmed. “She’s making a token for me to remember her by.”

He brushed stray tendrils from her face. “You don’t need a token.”

She shook her head. Not now, now ever. Aunt Havens was unforgettable.

He stroked his thumb against her cheek. “Perhaps she isn’t expecting to die anytime soon, but wishes to create some sort of keepsake while she’s healthy and still can. Think about your artists. Painters paint portraits they hope will live on, without specifically thinking about their mortality. They just want to create.”