Tess slipped into her bedchamber and offered a short curtsy before pulling back the window curtains. The morning light was a pale, watery gray. Kate could not remember a winter with such relentless rain.
“Shall I prepare your morning dress, Lady Katherine?”
“Yes, please. Choose whatever you think best, Tess. There may be callers this afternoon, but hopefully they will oblige me by staying away.”
Kate leaned against the windowsill, but the gray clouds and misty street failed to hold her thoughts for long. Her eyes locked on a cloaked figure standing near the garden fence. He lifted his head directly toward her window, his dark eyes full of menace before disappearing into the shadow of the alleyway, a slight limp in his step. No innocent explanation felt convincing enough. Had the shadows from Wycliff’s library followed her to Brook Street? Surely he was only a laborer pausing by the fence or a servant taking a brief rest.
Tess returned from the wardrobe carrying a blue morning dress with long sleeves. Kate’s mind wandered back to the image and the note from the library, only half listening to Tess’s chatter as her maid helped her dress.
“You seem jittery today, my lady. Is there . . . something amiss?” Even though they were the only two in the room, Tess kept her words vague. She had always been careful, never giving Kate a moment’s regret for confiding in her lady’s maid the true nature of Kate’s secret life.
“I am not certain yet. I need to speak with Hugh.”
As she approached his chambers, however, her father was closing her brother’s door behind him.
“Father, how is Hugh?”
“He is heavily sedated with laudanum.” Her father gave her a reassuring smile. “The doctor believes none of his ribs are broken, but the bruising is extremely painful. It shall likely be a few days yet before he awakes.”
A few days. Kate did not have that luxury. The meeting was tomorrow.
“Will you alert me if he wakes before then?”
“Of course, but please do not worry yourself. Hugh will recover in due time.”
He gently took her by the elbow and led her down the hallway. “Your mother tells me we should expect several gentlemen callers this afternoon.” He chuckled at the grimace Kate could not keep from her face. “My dear, your mother and I promised we would not force you into a marriage with James, or any other man, but if you dislike accepting gentleman callers, accepting James’s proposal would bring an end to it.”
“I am well aware, Father, and I am grateful for your trust in allowing me to make my own decision.” She lifted the hem of her skirt as they descended the stairs. “I only require a little more time.”
He patted her hand lovingly. “I learned from your mother that a woman’s heart needs to be certain.”
If he knew her heart had chosen James long ago, he would not mistake her request for time as hesitation.
“Come, it will be several hours yet before your mother rises. Breakfast and theMorning Postwill distract you from your worries.”
Neither the comfort of breakfast nor the newspaper kept Kate’s thoughts from returning to the library encounter and the mysterious image. Nor did a morning walk with Tess or the book of poetry she pulled from her shelves. At last, giving up any pretense of occupying herself, she excused herself and retreatedto her chambers, determined to unravel the coded message on the torn scrap.
She sat at her small writing desk in deep concentration, books of ciphers and hastily scrawled notes scattered about when her mother came striding into her chambers, a whirl of maternal energy and concern. “Kate, dear, why are you still wearing that dress? Afternoon callers will be arriving soon.”
Kate hastily swept the papers under a book of sonnets. Only then did Kate notice how far the light at the window had shifted. Her mother hardly paused for breath as she pulled a primrose gown from Kate’s wardrobe.
“If the number of bouquets you received this morning is any indication, we can expect quite a few callers.”
There must have been more deliveries while Kate was upstairs. She briefly wondered if James had sent one but persuaded herself she did not care one way or the other.
She opened her mouth to argue with her mother about receiving callers but decided against it. Not wanting to disappoint her mother more than she already had this week, she dutifully called Tess to help her change. When she heard the murmur of masculine voices at the front door, Kate hastened to the drawing room. She had scarcely settled on the blue-and-cream-striped settee when Dixon announced the Earl of Brenton.
James strode into the room, his bottle-green coat only sharpening the challenge in his gaze. “A pleasure to see you again, Lady Katherine. I trust you are rested after last night’s activities.” His eyes sparkled with a wicked gleam. “The evening proved rather . . . intimate, wouldn’t you agree?”
Her mother seemed oblivious to James’s wordplay. Kate refused to acknowledge it. The memory of the library, and the heat of his presence behind the curtain, pressed dangerouslyclose, and she was annoyed by how readily her heartbeat answered every time she recalled his touch.
Smoothing her expression before she spoke, she replied, “Actually, I found it to be overly crowded for my taste.”
James smiled, and before she could stop it, her own lips tugged upward in answer.
“The Earl of Alverton,” Dixon announced from the doorway. Kate’s smile faltered, but she managed to hide her grimace before anyone noticed.
Alverton swept into the room as though he owned it, completely ignoring James after giving him a curt nod. Even his peacock-blue coat and matching striped waistcoat proclaimed his need to be admired.
