“Get him out of my house,” he muttered, and then turned on his heel and strode across the ballroom and out the door onto the terrace.
He yanked the doors shut behind himself and paced away down the long veranda that stretched all the way along the back of the house. He moved away from the ballroom, past the parlors adjacent, far away toward a darkened corner where he prayed he wouldn’t be found when—not if,when—one of his friends or five of his friends came looking for him. He had no idea what to say when they did.
He stared up at the sky. The moon was only a sliver, providing little light. He was reminded of nights he’d stood out here with his father when he was just a boy, almost the same age as Phoebe was now. His father had taught him constellations on this terrace. Told him the stories that went along with the stars.
He didn’t remember them now, at least not all of them.
“What am I doing?” he asked the night, longing for his father’s voice to answer. To advise. To comfort or to command. Wouldn’t that make life easier?
“It’s a very good question, Your Grace.”
He froze and turned to find someone had indeed followed him out to his hiding place. But it wasn’t a friend, it wasn’t a gawker. It was Sarah.
She shouldn’t have come here. It wasn’t her place to follow Kit from the ballroom as the others buzzed about his attack on his guest. And yet when she saw his face, crumpled with pain, she had no other choice. She needed to go after him, needed to ensure he was well.
Sheneededthat. So did he.
His expression now told her she’d been right. He looked relieved to see her and his shoulders relaxed a fraction as he returned his attention to the sky.
“It’s just…hard,” he said. “Tonight was difficult.”
She stepped up beside him and rested her hands beside his on the stone wall. “Yes, I think I understand. It wasn’t easy for me, either.”
He jerked his face toward hers. “No? When I saw you, you always seemed to be having a good time. Especially with Lord Geoffrey.”
There was a hint of jealousy in his tone, and she wondered at it. Liked it, if truth be told. Even if it was entirely unfounded.
“Lord Geoffrey is a nice enough person, I suppose, but he might be the greatest bore in all the empire.”
To her great joy, Kit chuckled and even more of the tension dissipated from his frame. “The eligible ladies in Town vying for his attention might disagree.”
She wrinkled her nose. “He talked to me for ten minutes about the difference between Trevithick’s first steam engine and the one he used just last year.”
Kit shifted. “Huh. Well, it is a leap in technology to be certain.”
“I understand the science is fascinating.” She rolled her eyes. “But…ten minuteson every exhaustive detail of the engines, Kit.”
He laughed. “I’d forgotten how pedantic the man could be on those subjects. But you were smiling while he spoke. I never would have guessed you weren’t enjoying yourself.”
“It was a grimace,” she said, and now she couldn’t help but smile genuinely. “Perhaps I’m being unfair. Lord Geoffrey is certainly not the worst company I kept tonight.”
There must have been something telling in her tone, for Kit turned and faced her. “Did something happen? Was someone unkind to you?” When she didn’t answer straight away, his lips thinned. “Tell me.”
His anger, which he normally controlled but had bubbled over twice tonight, showed the tangle of his heart quite clearly. She reached out and caught his hand, joining her fingers with his.
“The duchesses are accepting,” she explained softly. “But there are more than just the duchesses here. And those others know my story.”
“Theythinkthey know,” he spat, his tone still laced with frustration that she doubted was entirely about her.
“Whether it’s truth or not, they have something to say when they see me in the middle of your ballroom in a borrowed gown.”
He let out his breath gently. “There were whispers.”
She shrugged, trying not to let the reality of that sting her too greatly. She’d known it would happen. It didn’t make the moments any easier.
“I’m sorry,” he said, the pepper gone from his tone as he looked out over the dark garden.
“It’s not your fault, Kit,” she said, and leaned up to touch his cheek. She turned his face and he looked down into her eyes. Her breath caught at how beautiful he was. How much she cared about his well being.
