Summer House Party Page 7

  He reached out to touch her cheek, her skin like satin beneath his fingers. “Your family is blind. They have known you so long, relied on you so often, that they fail to see your worth.”

  She gazed up at him, lips parted as if she longed to believe that. It was the work of a moment to bend his head and make those lips his own.

  And it seemed as if the night danced with a thousand stars, twirling about them. He wrapped his arms around her, drank deep of her kiss, felt her body conform to his. What was it about this woman that made him want to cradle her close, shelter her from all harm, play the champion she named him?

  Till death do them part.

  Quentin pulled back to stare at her. Dark lashes swept creamy cheeks; her lips were full from his kisses. A tenderness stole over him, and he could only hold her again.

  What had he done? Despite the enmity between their families, despite their different approaches to life, how had he fallen in love with Kitty Chapworth?

  For how could it not be love? Always before, the attraction, the desire, had been immediate. As quickly as it flared, it had faded. This felt strong and true, years in the making. It would only grow stronger with time.

  He’d hurt her ten years ago. She had little cause to trust his feelings.

  So how could he convince Kitty to change their engagement of convenience into one of love?

  Chapter Ten

  Oh, but she had to stop this. Each time Quentin touched her, each time his lips caressed hers, her heart dared to hope. She couldn’t bear the crushing disappointment of being left behind.

  She pushed away from him and smoothed back her hair. “Really, Quentin. There is no one about. You can stop pretending you feel anything for me.”

  “Wise words,” he murmured, running a hand back through his own hair. “Unfortunately, too late to be heeded. I find it difficult to distinguish pretend from reality.”

  He could not be saying what it seemed. Her heart evidently thought otherwise, for it slammed into her chest as if wishing to force itself back into his embrace.

  “The reality is that you are attempting to stop my uncle with my aid,” she reminded him.

  “And I am grateful for that assistance,” he told her. “But surely you can tell my impression of you has changed.”

  Kitty clenched her fists to keep from reaching out to him. “And why would that be, sir? As you said, I am the same old Kitty—the keeper of propriety.”

  “Willing to risk all for those you love,” he agreed. “Yes, madam, in that trait you have not changed. But I believe your determined nature is the exact quality I seek in a wife, and I find I wish to expand the number of people you love to include one more.” He stepped closer. “Me.”

  Kitty felt as if her legs would not hold her. But this time, she refused to back away. “There is no need to expand. I have counted you among that number since the day we parted. But then you only saw Eugenia.”

  He closed the distance between them, feathered his fingers across her cheek. “A callow youth runs after any pretty gem. It takes a man to appreciate a diamond.”

  She swallowed, gaze searching his. Was that love she saw in the deep brown of his eyes? Or only her most fervent wishes?

  “Be sure, Quentin,” she told him. “I cannot play this game. My heart will not survive losing you again.”

  “Then perhaps,” he murmured, bending his head once more, “you should leave your heart in my safekeeping. I promise to treasure and protect it always, Kitty.”

  She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him. His lips caressed hers once more, a pledge, a vow. Tears heated her cheeks as he drew back.

  He licked his lips as if tasting the salt of her tears. “I never meant to make you cry.”

  “Tears of joy,” she assured him. She had to touch him. Reaching out, she took his hand. “Oh, Quentin, can it really be?”

  “I might ask you the same. There were times I thought you must despise me. Yet here you are, crying at my kiss.” His smile looked watery as he reached out his free hand and wiped away her tears with gentle fingers.

  “What do we do now?” she asked.

  He chuckled, letting his hand fall. “Now, you go inside before I am tempted to forget I am supposed to be a gentleman. Tomorrow, we will confront your uncle and settle this once and for all.”

  One step at a time. She nodded, moving back from him. “Very well. I will endeavor to be downstairs by nine. We can face him together then. Good night, Quentin.”

  He must have been as loath to part as she was, for he pulled her back into his arms and kissed her. When they finally broke away, she thought her feet never touched the ground as she ran back to the house.

  Quentin Adair loved her. The thought fueled each step, the very beat of her heart. She could have danced through every room at the grange, leaped up and touched the brass chandelier in the entry. He loved her, and they had a chance for a future together. All she must do was stay strong.

  “Bit late to be out on the grounds,” her uncle said.

  Foot on the stairs to the chamber story, Kitty paused, feeling as if a wintry blast swept down the corridor. Sir Thomas was lounging in the doorway of the library, arms folded across his chest, for all the world as if he had been watching for her. She could not like the glitter in his pale eyes.

  “The night was cool and pleasant,” she said. “I thought a stroll before retiring might help me sleep.”

  “I have just the thing for sleeping soundly,” he said, pushing off the doorjamb. “Come with me.”

  “Thank you, Uncle,” she tried, taking a step upward. “Perhaps another time.”

  “Now.” He disappeared into the library.

  She could hardly refuse. She might raise his suspicions about her and Quentin. She followed her uncle into the library.

  The staff had already banked the fire for the night. The hearth gave only a dim orange glow as Sir Thomas headed for his liquor cabinet. Opening the gilded doors of the fine wood box, he drew out a fat-bottomed crystal flask.

  “Brandy?” he asked, lifting it in her direction, the amber liquid swirling.

  “No, thank you.” Something was wrong. A gentleman did not share brandy with a lady. Certainly Uncle had never offered her a drink before. She could not imagine why he was doing so now. She drew in a breath, forced herself to focus. It would not do to give away the game.

  Her uncle busied himself pouring a glass.

  “I underestimated you,” he said as he put the stopper back in the flask. “I always thought that sharp tongue of yours was your only weapon. It seems you know how to use your feminine wiles as well.”

  She wasn’t sure whether to thank him or take umbrage. “This is not a proper discussion for tonight,” she said, taking a step back toward the door.

  “He’s using you, you know,” he said. “He thinks because you’re family he can hurt me by hurting you.”

  “What a great miscalculation,” Kitty said. “We both know how little you care for me.”

  He took a sip from his glass with one hand and pointed to her with the other. “There, you see?” he said, lowering the glass. “You are a smart chit. You’ve done well by my girls, Kitty—a means to an end. But you’re right that there’s no love between us. Still, you’re family, and I cannot allow him to make light of our name. He’s the enemy. Make no mistake.”

  Kitty kept her smile pleasant from years of practice. “I can see you consider him such. But his slight to you was years ago, and of your own making. Eugenia lied to you. Quentin never harmed her. He only dared to think she might return his love.”

  Her uncle’s hand sliced the air. “Effrontery enough. And now his mouse of a father refuses to sell Rose Cottage to me.”

  Kitty’s head came up despite her best intentions. “Is that what this is all about? You want the Adair lands?”

  He threw back the rest of his drink and shoved the glass onto the cabinet. “Of course I want the land. You don’t think I’d let Sir Winston have it and fo
rever have to listen to his gloating? But Adair won’t sell, sentimental fool that he is. So, I’ve done what I can to force his hand.”

  At least she could confirm the truth for Quentin. “Do tell.”

  He smirked. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me spilling all my secrets. Suffice it to say the Adair sugar will never leave the Bristol docks until it’s accidently tossed into the sea.” He took a step toward her. “But I need to know how much he suspects, whether he has plans to circumvent mine.”

  And he expected her to tell him. The arrogance!

  “I’m afraid I cannot help you,” she said, turning for the door.

  “Oh, you will help me.” He was behind her and seizing her arm before she could escape. “You’ll be the carrot to lure Adair to his ruin. Be a good girl now, and don’t make me strike you.”

  Good girl? Oh, yes, she’d been that her whole life—dutiful, conscientious, proper. Sometimes she feared that was all she might be. But Quentin saw more in her, and for him she must be more. She reared back her head and connected with her uncle’s nose with a satisfying crunch.

  He stumbled back with a roar, and she darted for the door, but he was on her in an instant, fist in her hair.

  “No, you don’t,” he warned, dragging her back so hard she saw stars. He shoved her onto the sofa, shouting for the footmen. Kitty sprang to her feet, and he shoved her down again. A moment more, and Taughton and Bollers rushed in.

  “Take Miss Katherine upstairs to her room and see that she stays there,” Sir Thomas ordered, one hand seeking to stem the blood rushing from his bruised nose. “And no visitors. I’ll send for her as I see fit.”

  “We will stop you,” Kitty warned, succeeding in regaining her feet at last.

  “You should know by now that I don’t take well to threats, girl,” Sir Thomas replied.

  “That, sir, was no threat,” Kitty said. “That was a promise.” And she suffered the footmen to lead her out, for now.

  Quentin couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well. A note had been waiting for him at home, confirming that the sugar had reached the docks in Whitehaven and merely awaited inspection from the customs officers before being sent to market.

  “Excellent news,” his father had said when Quentin told him. “You see, there was no need to sell Rose Cottage.”

  Quentin sat on the edge of the chaise lounge where his father was warming by the fire in his bedchamber. “I’d still like you to consider it. When this matter is settled, I intend to return to Jamaica.”

  His father sighed. “I feared as much. When my valet confided you had offered for Miss Chapworth, I hoped that meant you would stay.”

  Quentin put a hand on his shoulder. When had his father become so frail? “Forgive me for not telling you about my proposal myself. You see, Kitty and I agreed to pretend an engagement so I could keep a close eye on Sir Thomas. But last night we decided to make it official. I plan to marry her, Father. I love her.”

  A tear rolled down his father’s pale cheek. “So if I’m to see my grandchildren, I must relocate to Jamaica?”

  Quentin dropped his hand with a smile. “I fear so.”

  “Then so be it. We can talk to Sir Winston about the matter. I am persuaded he will take good care of the roses.”

  So was Quentin. Finally, his life was settling into place. He had no doubt that, with Kitty at his side, they could do amazing things. He could hardly wait to see her again. As a result, he threw on his riding coat, tied his cravat in a loose knot, and galloped his horse over to the grange to arrive before nine.

  He thought he would find her in the breakfast room, a sunny space with yellow wall hangings. But though the other guests joined him, making quick work of the ham and eggs and pastries on the sideboard, half past came and went with no sign of Kitty. He was just rising to go in search of her when the older footman entered. Quentin could not forget that he had been one of those to hold him while Sir Thomas had wielded his crop years ago.

  “The master would like a private word with you, sir,” he told Quentin, gray eyes hard.

  “Probably something to do with the wedding,” Danvers put in with a smile. Willingham smirked.

  Quentin highly doubted Sir Thomas would want any input to their wedding plans. But he chilled as he realized it was possible Kitty’s uncle had discovered Quentin’s plans. He rose and followed the servant to the library.

  Sir Thomas glanced up from the papers on his desk as Quentin entered. The footman left, closing the door behind him. Quentin had the distinct feeling of being caged.

  “Your sugar will be at the bottom of the Bristol Harbor by now,” Sir Thomas announced.

  And he looked entirely too pleased about the matter. Dressed in a blue coat, his smile was nearly as bright as the silver threads on his waistcoat.

  But he was wrong. All Quentin had to do was play along. He wandered closer. “How can that be? I’ve received no word about an accident.”

  “You will.” Sir Thomas chuckled. “Might as well stick your spoon in the wall, boy. I’ve beaten you.”

  Not yet. Please, God, not ever. “Why go to the trouble?” Quentin asked. “You took your wrath out on me years ago. I’ve done nothing to provoke you since.”

  “Your existence provokes me,” Sir Thomas sneered. “There is an order to things, boy, and you are always reaching higher. Men like you are never satisfied until they’ve been shown their place. Your father is the same way. Tiny estate, yet he clings to it, even on his deathbed.” Sir Thomas leaned closer. “When word comes about the loss of your profits, he’ll have no choice but to sell to me.”

  “Or Sir Winston,” Quentin pointed out. “He’s been equally determined to buy us out.”

  Sir Thomas leaned back. “You’ll sell to me. I’ve seen how you look at my niece. I thought it was all an act at first, and I couldn’t understand. But I believe you actually care about her.”

  He should deny it. Sir Thomas clearly thought to use his feelings against him. Yet if he denied it, Kitty would surely hear of it. He could not hurt her like that.

  “I am in love with her,” he told Sir Thomas. “And I will marry her.”

  Sir Thomas shook his head. “I always thought you were an odd fish, but I must say it’s come in handy.” His look hardened. “You will stay here, keep silent, do nothing about the sugar. Play the gentleman, or Kitty will suffer.”

  Quentin stared at him. “You would threaten your own family?”

  He waved a hand. “She’s lucky I found a purpose for her. Don’t think I would lose any sleep by seeing her hurt. I know how to use my riding crop to good purpose, as you will recall.”

  He meant it. Quentin could see it in his pale eyes, lit from within as if the idea of hurting Kitty excited him. The thought of her enduring the pain and humiliation he’d felt was enough to sicken Quentin. He inclined his head.

  “Your point. But I warn you, harm her and my gloves come off.”

  Sir Thomas smiled, though there was no warmth in it. “No need for concern. Play your part, and you’ll soon be reunited with your love. I’ve invited Sir Winston over at eleven this morning. You will tell him you and your father have decided to sell to me. And then I will thank you to take Kitty out of my sight and never darken my door again.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Kitty paced her room, mind coursing faster than her uncle’s prize hunter. She’d managed to snatch a little sleep, but with even her maid denied entrance, she hadn’t been able to do more than loosen her stays. Now she couldn’t help wondering what fiendish plans her uncle must have for Quentin.

  A part of her almost wished Quentin had been using her, if only to see her uncle stopped. But she could not wish away his love. Never that.

  There must be something she could do!

  She’d already determined she had no way to escape. Her room on the upper story was too high to allow her to jump safely from the window, even if she could have squeezed past the narrow casing. The fireplace was too tight to all
ow her to shinny up it. Taughton, who had been on duty that night, was immune to her pleas. He feared reprisal, and she could not doubt her uncle would take a dim view of any servant who disobeyed his orders.

  So, how could she win free?

  A noise in the corridor caught her attention, and she rushed to put her ear to the door. Lucy’s voice came through muffled.

  “But I must see my cousin. She’s the only one who can fasten this chain properly.”

  Kitty yanked open the door. “Lucy, help me! Your father is holding me prisoner so he can ruin Quentin.”

  Bollers, who was apparently on duty this morning, joined her cousin in staring at her. Then Lucy’s pretty face puckered over her soft muslin gown. “What?”

  “Sorry, miss,” Bollers said, putting a hand on Kitty’s shoulder and attempting to push her back into the room while she dug her slippers into the carpet. “Sir Thomas said no visitors.”

  “I am not a visitor!” Lucy ducked under his arm and slipped into the room with Kitty. “I am family.” She took Kitty’s hand and held it tight, and Kitty dared to hope that the two of them might prevail against the burly lad.

  But Lucy raised her dainty head. “If Kitty must be punished, then so must I.”

  “As you wish,” Bollers said, and he shut the door in their faces.

  “Well!” Lucy said. “I never!”

  “Thank the Lord for that.” Kitty drew herself away from her cousin and shook her head. “I appreciate your kindness, Lucy, but now we’re both imprisoned.”

  “Not for long,” Lucy predicted. “Mr. Willingham and Mr. Fredericks will seek me. We will apply to them for help.”

  “No offense, dearest,” Kitty said, “but I cannot see either of them having the strength of character to stand up to your father.”

  Lucy’s lower lip trembled. “But what did you do, Kitty, to make him so angry as to lock you in?”

  “I sided with Quentin over him,” Kitty explained. “I’m sorry, Lucy, but your father is a tyrant. He plans to ruin Quentin’s sugar plantation so his father will have no choice but to sell Rose Cottage.”