He shook his head. “I would have spent the night there, but—”
“No room at the inn,” she finished for him. “Not this time of the year.” She reached for the bottle of brandy and refilled his glass.
Not trusting his fingers, he took it between the palms of his hands. “This is the best brandy I have ever drunk,” he stated.
“It’s the same brand of brandy you drank when you were driving coach-and-fours at breakneck speeds,” she said in a tone filled with rebuke. Her brows suddenly furrowed. “Were you on your way to Saltford? To your hunting lodge?”
He set aside the glass of brandy. “How do you know about that?”
She gave him a quelling glance. “We were once betrothed, or have you forgotten?”
The pained expression on his face only worsened. “I had hopedyouhad,” he whispered, glad the housekeeper had left the room.
She shoved another spoonful of soup into his mouth. “A woman never forgets being left at the altar.”
Thomas swallowed and then let out an audible sigh. “I suppose not,” he agreed.
She dropped her head to one side. “You never did tell me why.” When he didn’t immediately respond, she added, “When you didn’t so much as send a note, I worried you had broken your neck whilst driving a coach-and-four at a breakneck speeds.”
“You couldn’t have missed me too much,” he accused, sounding angrier than he felt.
Jerking at hearing the sound of rebuke inhisvoice, Katherine scoffed. “What’sthatsupposed to mean?”
“You married Whyte.”
“Well, not because I wanted to,” she countered, trying hard to keep her voice low. Jackson would appear at any moment to help with his boots, and she didn’t want the servant learning their ancient history. “At least, not at the time.”
“Less than a fortnight later, I heard.”
Katherine swallowed, deciding not to mention it had only been a week. “It was a quick arrangement,” she acknowledged.
“You couldn’t have waited for me?”
Blinking, she regarded him with disbelief. “How long was it before you finally made an appearance in London again?”
His eyes briefly darted to the ceiling as he contemplated his answer. “Four... mayhap five months.”
She simply stared at him, as if the answer to his question should have been obvious. “Wherewereyou?”
He dipped his head. “On the Continent.”
Her eyes narrowed. “During the French Revolution? Whatever in the world—?”
“I worked for Chamberlain,” he stated, referring to the viscount who headed the Foreign Office. When she didn’t seem to comprehend his meaning, he added, “As a spy.” He paused a moment, not surprised at seeing her look of shock. “Chamberlin knew there would be a number of players looking to fill the void left when the king and so many aristocrats lost their heads. He wanted to be sure...” He rolled his eyes and sighed. “We hoped it would be someone favorable to Great Britain. Even tried to make it so, but...”
“Instead it was Bonaparte.”
“Exactly,” he said at the same moment Jackson appeared. The butler carried Katherine’s abandoned dinner on a tray, silver domes covering two plates, and set it on the table next to her chair.
“I had Cook dish up a dinner for His Grace,” Jackson said in a quiet voice.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” Thomas said, straightening.
Katherine experienced a moment of embarrassment at having forgotten the duke’s hunger. “His Grace requires assistance with removing his boots. If his feet are as frozen as his fingers were...” She didn’t finished the sentence, realizing Thomas might have suffered frostbite or worse.
“Of course, my lady. Your Grace,” Jackson said as he knelt and worked to remove the boots. “I took the liberty of finding a pair of stockings for you, sir.”
“Much appreciated,” Thomas replied. “I’m afraid I didn’t think to grab my valise when I left the coach. It’s probably burned in the fire.” He winced several times as the butler struggled with his Hobys, clenching his teeth in an effort to keep from cursing.
