Chapter Twenty
Kate lay on her back staring at the high ceiling above her. The sun had yet to rise and the room was all grey shadows and dark lines. She shivered and tried to tuck her feet under the hem of her nightgown. It didn’t matter how many blankets she heaped on top of her; none of them could warm her from the bone-deep chill that had settled on her in Lady Albrighton’s ballroom all those hours ago.
The last time she had peeked at the carriage clock on her dressing table, she’d seen it was not yet five. Her eyes burned with the need to sleep, but every time she closed them, they popped open moments later. Her body refused to let her surrender. All she wanted was a few hours of blissful darkness where she would not have to think.
Scrubbing her hand over her face didn’t change the image that kept swimming before her eyes: Chorley, his superior snarl curled across his lips. Last night, he hadn’t spoken to her. He’d been on his way, crossing the dance floor like a fox after an injured rabbit, but Edward had thrown himself in front of him, somehow knowing something was wrong without her eventelling him. It didn’t matter that her previous employer had not uttered a word in her presence. She could still hear his dry drawl making some comment about her dress or hair. She could still feel his eyes travelling the length of her body, as if he could somehow see beneath her clothes or even under her very skin, down to her heart.
Somehow, heknewher, knew how to make her despise parts of her body, her personality, with only a few well-executed sentences. While she’d lived in his house, he had robbed her of her happiness for seemingly no other reason than because he could.
Maybe she would have carried on living at the Chorley household, becoming ever smaller, if her employer hadn’t forced a kiss on her. His constant criticism had brought her self-esteem so low she’d almost believed she was not worthy of happiness. That semi-violent act had finally got her moving. It had been nearly nine months since she had last seen him; she had thought herself recovered, thought herself strong again. One sight of him had made a joke of her belief.
She wanted… she wanted to do something frivolous, something fun, and lying here wallowing in past misery was not making that happen.
Flinging back the covers, she finally gave up on sleep. She needed distraction, some action to take her mind away from thoughts that could reduce her to the person she had been when she had lived in the Chorley household.
Without giving it too much thought, she pulled a dressing gown over her nightclothes and left her rooms. She had not seen a single member of the household up before nine in the morning on a normal day. There was no reason to think they would be up now, especially given everyone’s late night.
No servants were around at such an early hour, as she made her way down to the music room. The house was still, almost like it were waiting for something to happen. She tugged her gown tighter. The weather was starting to get cold as they headed deeper into autumn and with no fires lit the house had a distinct chill.
Letting herself into the music room, she came to an abrupt stop barely two steps inside.
Edward was hunched over the piano, his dark tailcoat hanging over the back of the stool. His fingers were resting on the keys, but he was not playing.
She wasn’t surprised to see him, she realised. Without admitting it to herself on the walk to the music room, she had come to this part of the house in the hope she would find him exactly where he was.
He straightened as she stepped into the room, before turning on the stool, twisting so his back was to the instrument and he was facing her. He didn’t stand, merely watched as she approached, his dark eyes hooded, his arms resting on his knees.
Unlike her, he had not bothered to change into his nightclothes and was still wearing the outfit he had worn to the ball. Purple shadows rimmed his eyes. She reached out and touched his skin there with the very tip of her finger. ‘Have you slept?’
‘No.’ He grimaced. ‘I did not even attempt it. Have you?’
‘No.’ She kept her fingers lightly touching his face. He did not move away or comment on the intimate brush of skin on skin. ‘Every time I closed my eyes I saw Chorley at the edge of the dance floor and I felt the weight of his stare. Up until then, I was having a fine evening, enjoying myself around the Ton far morethan I would have thought possible. He always did know how to spoil a good moment.’
Edward smiled thinly at her attempt at levity.
‘What did you mean when you said you would ruin him?’ she asked. The question had been running around her head ever since he had said it. ‘I cannot bear the thought that you might try and involve yourself. He has contacts I can only guess at. You saw for yourself last night. He was at Lady Albrighton’s soiree, even though it was meant to be a small event. Not that I found it small, but you understand what I mean.’ She was babbling, running out of air as she tried to explain to him why he should not poke the sleeping monster. The Dashworths may be an influential family, the Glanmore name well known amongst all levels of Society, but it did not follow that Chorley would not hesitate to go against them if there was a small chance he could get away with it. The man was the very devil, but he might go away if not provoked; he hadn’t come after her in months after all. If Chorley did not see her again for a while, then hopefully he would forget about her.
Edward reached up to her hand, the one still touching his face, and lightly traced her wrist with his thumb. With each sweep, the barely-there touch sent sparks up her arm. If he was trying to soothe her, he was having the opposite effect.
His voice, when he spoke, was heavy. ‘I lived in fear of a bully, growing up. When I was old enough I promised myself I would never be that person and that if I saw it in someone, I would put a stop to it if I were able to. I want to do something to this man, not only because he hurt you and your brother but also because there are no consequences for him. He should understand he cannot get away with behaving exactly how he wants. He was heading towards you, intent on doing it again and I… I want to stop him.’
Edward was now tracing soft circles on the inside of her wrist. He was staring into the distance; she wasn’t sure he was aware he was still touching her. The light brush of his thumb gave her courage.
She swept her fingers down the length of his face, stopping at his firm jawline. ‘I wanted to ask you for a favour.’
‘Anything.’
Her heart fluttered. ‘You do not know what it is yet.’
‘It does not matter.’
‘It is a little…’
Whatever he saw in her expression caused his breath to hitch. His eyes lost their faraway look, a new alertness crossing his face. ‘A little?’ he prompted.
‘Unconventional.’ She had been working up to this for days now: the idea that she was at the Dashworth home for only a short period, that while she was here, she should take a little slice of joy for herself. She wanted something fun to remember, some memory she could pull out in years to come when she was old and grey and pensioned off to some small cottage in the country.
‘What is it?’ he asked, his breath whispering over her hand, his thumb stilling on the inside of her wrist.
