Regency Vows: A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight

“His property—”

“Now, now, darling.” The duke touched her cheek and smiled. “Any more of those combative looks and I may have to put an end to our torrid affair.”

* * *

HER CAPTIVITY. JAMES slouched in a chair in the library at Croston with his shirttails untucked and his feet propped—shoeless—on a footstool, nursing a glass of cognac while the rest of the world sat down to dinner.

He wasn’t hungry. Perhaps he would eat this evening. Or perhaps he wouldn’t.

Sounds of the crew on the roof drifted in through the windows even though they were closed. His arrival at Croston had opened Pandora’s box. He’d resolved the disagreement between his tenants, only to have a dozen other issues crop up. The two days he’d planned to spend had turned into a week.

A week’s worth of nights alone, remembering Katherine shooting daggers at him with those topaz eyes while she held her blade at his throat.

He took a swallow and leaned his head back, closing his eyes while the liquid slid down his throat. On his lap, the book he’d been trying to read began to feel heavy. He opened his eyes and looked down at it.

A Treatise on Domestic Pigeons: Comprehending All the Species Known in England...

He set his glass aside and searched for the last sentence he’d read. This was the moment he’d been looking forward to for months. Years.

Relaxation was what he really wanted, anyway. Not marriage to a woman who would always make him feel a little bit mad, who would always keep him listing to one side or the other. A woman who saw him as her captor, when all he’d ever done was—

He inhaled sharply and flipped a page. Never mind about that.

He reached for his cognac.

If only she were his captive, he would truss her up like a Christmas goose and keep her in his bed until she gave up her will to fight him.

He felt himself grow hard, and cursed.

“Brother?” Honoria’s voice called from somewhere inside the house. “James! I know you’re here, you ridiculous man.”

Oh, of all the bloody—

She swept through the library door from the morning room. “There you are. La, you look a fright. I realize this is the country, James, but there must be limits.”

He downed another swallow of cognac. “What are you doing here?”

“We’ve lost our polite manners, as well. Excellent. I’ve torn myself away from London in order to save your marriage, brother dear, and convince you to return posthaste.”

“You needn’t have bothered. The marriage is beyond annulment.”

“Of that I have no doubt, but is it beyond adultery?”

He looked up at her.

“Oh, do forgive me. That was much too strong a word.” He recognized that look in her eye too well. “I only meant that Katherine is enjoying the Season, which is as it should be. I’m certain that despite your absence so soon after the wedding, Katherine is confident of your continued love and affection, and would never do anything to cause you a moment’s alarm.”

From the moment he’d landed in a sodden mass on the deck of her ship, she’d caused him nothing but alarm. “Don’t be coy with me, Honoria. Have out with it.”

She assessed him shrewdly. “I’m certain, for example, that her new friendship with the Duke of Winston is exactly that—friendship.”

“Winston.” His blood ran cold.

“People are forming all kinds of acquaintances these days,” she said with a careless wave of her hand, and smiled. “Perhaps she is teaching him how to defend himself more effectively against a sword. Oh, now, don’t look like that, James. Murder isn’t the answer. Besides,” she added, growing serious, “this is all your fault.”

“What,” he said slowly, “is happening between Katherine and Winston?” Merely saying those names in the same sentence made him feel sick.

“Likely nothing. But one can never be sure. You must return to London and fix it.”

“Fix it,” he bit out. “As though I can simply charge into London and wave a wand and force her to love me.”

“Love you! Is that what this is about? You have a fine way of showing it, lying to her about the vote. Why in heaven’s name— Never mind. I know why. James, you are blinder than a mole. She would have accepted you if you had but asked.”

“You speak where you are not informed.”

“Pooh. I’ve never seen a woman more heartbroken than Katherine. She loves you—of that you may be sure.”

“Has she told you as much?” he demanded. “Do you have proof?”

Honoria huffed in exasperation. “Thank goodness you haven’t called for tea—most rudely, I might add—because I shall certainly need something stronger before this conversation is finished. Of course she hasn’t told me. This is Katherine we’re talking about. But it’s true. She hasn’t been pleasant company at all.”

“Irrefutable proof indeed.”

“Sarcasm is so ugly, James.” She perched on the arm of his chair. “She has one of those awful trinkets—the very one you teased me about, with your likeness.”

That awful brooch?

“She doesn’t know I saw it,” Honoria confided. “There was a drawer ajar on her dressing table, and I spotted it inside.”

“Along with myriad other odds and ends, I’m sure.”

“Why would she have it if not to possess a likeness of the man she loves?”

“Why indeed. To think how your talent for scientific reasoning has been wasted all these years.” It could have been a gift. Or a memento of her own heroic act of saving his life. “Perhaps she plans a ceremonial desecration.”

Honoria snorted. “You are an ass, James. A blind ass. It’s your choice, of course, whether to come to London and set things right, or leave Katherine and the duke to their devices. I don’t think I shall stay for any refreshment, after all—thank you for offering,” she added dryly. “The masquerade is tomorrow night, and if I leave immediately I can still get a decent night’s rest tonight. Katherine is planning to attend as a pirate, by the way. I haven’t seen her costume, but I’m told it is positively scandalous. I’m sure I shall envy it more than anything.” She reached for his hand, her expression darkening. “James, it frightens me to see you like this.”

He didn’t want her frightened. He just wanted her to leave him alone. “After years of exacting discipline, you can hardly begrudge me a few days of sloth.”

“Sloth, James? Really?” She searched him deeply, and he looked away. “You’ve slunk away to Croston the way an animal goes off on its own to die.” She was quiet for an uncharacteristically long moment.

“Go back to London, Ree. I’m fine.”

“You aren’t.”

He looked her in the eye and called up all the clarity he could muster. “I am. I’ve been looking forward to this for months and now, finally, I’m home.”

She pursed her lips. “Very well,” she finally said. Impulsively she reached for his arm. “Anything can be fixed, dearest. Have you tried everything? And I do mean everything, James.”

There was one thing he hadn’t tried. I love you. He imagined saying those words to Katherine, but could only imagine her scorn if he did.

* * *

HIS HEAD POUNDED like the devil after Honoria left. Winston! Bloody hell. He needed to return to London now. Today.

But what good would it do? It was far too late to fix anything. He’d acted with complete disregard for Katherine’s feelings—there was no way to change that now. And in the process, he’d robbed himself of ever knowing whether she might have chosen him of her own free will.

Yes! Her sharp answer shot through his head. He set his glass down and sat forward, cradling his head in his hands. If he’d just renewed his proposal instead of assuming he knew what she was thinking...

Perhaps he would return to London. God only knew what he’d do when he got there, but he would think of something. He was her husband. And he’d spent years issuing commands. If nothing else, he could order her never to see Winston again.

There were footsteps outside the library, so he called out. “Hodges! Have Finley pack my bag. I ride for London in twenty minutes.”

“Don’t know who Hodges is,” came a voice he recognized too well, “but if he was supposed to be at the door, he’s abandoned his post. Let myself in—hope you won’t hold it against me.” Winston ambled into the library as if he owned it.

James was across the room in two seconds with Winston shoved against the wall by his shirt. “Bastard! Is Katherine with you?”

“God, no,” Winston choked out. “And if you tell Lady Croston of this visit, I shall deny it. I have ten men prepared to swear I’ve been in the country inspecting a prime piece of horseflesh.”

From the sound of things, the only prime piece Winston had been inspecting was Katherine. James tightened his grip on Winston’s throat. “If you’ve touched her, I shall kill you. Honoria has told me everything.”

“Clearly not,” Winston said, shoving back at James powerfully enough to break his hold. “I had to run my horse into the brush to avoid being seen by your sister not ten minutes ago. Now listen here—” He held up a hand when James took a step forward. “Damned unsporting of you, not telling Lady Dunscore about the vote. I don’t know what you were thinking—and I don’t care—but I intend to see that you fix things immediately. This business of pretending to have an affair with your wife is playing hell with my ability to pursue legitimate amorous liaisons.”

“Pretending to have an affair with my wife?”

“I never should have agreed to such a ridiculous plan.” Winston tugged at his sleeves and stalked into the room. “Tried to tell her no, but she was so clearly aggrieved I thought it was the least I could do. Had no idea it would drag on close to a week without you turning up to call me out. And now we’ve got that bloody masquerade tomorrow evening, and I’ve been hearing talk of a pirate costume that is rumored to be de trop—and I doubt they’re referring to the volume of fabric—and quite frankly, Croston, it is indeed too much. I’m a man, not a saint, though God knows for your sake I’ve been trying. I demand to know whether you plan to come to London and call me out, or whether my sacrifices have been in vain.”

“Are you asking me to believe,” James said quietly, stalking toward him, “that Katherine suggested that the two of you pretend to have an affair?”

“God, Croston, you’re a slow one. Is that cognac over there? I could use a slosh.”

James grabbed him again. “You have no idea how satisfying it would be to obliterate you once and for all,” he said between clenched teeth.

“I’m half tempted to oblige you,” Winston drawled, “as it would extract me from my current misery. But I daresay all this enthusiasm would be much better spent between your wife’s legs. Although at the moment, one would be hard-pressed to determine that you have a wife at all.”

The temptation to bloody that curled lip was overwhelming. “Have you touched her?” James demanded.

“Only to hand her in and out of my curricle. Ride back from the park—perfectly innocent.”

“Nothing with you is innocent.” The idea of Katherine riding anywhere with Winston in anything curdled his stomach.

“The memory of my humiliation at her hand is ever with me. You’re more of a man than I am, taking that virago to wife. Good God.” Winston curled a hand around James’s arm. “If you’re going to take a swing at me, then do it. Otherwise, release me before I decide to take the initiative myself.”

If he took that swing, he wasn’t sure he could control himself. He let go. “Get out.”

“You’re obviously in love with her,” Winston said. “Even I can see that much, and I’ve got exactly no experience with love, nor do I wish to ever gain any. So what you’re doing hiding at Croston while your wife and her charms are back in London, I cannot begin to imagine.” He went to the door, still adjusting his shirt. “I must return to London immediately. From what I’ve heard of that pirate costume, tomorrow’s masquerade is not to be missed.”

“Get. Out.”

Winston flashed a damnable grin and disappeared, leaving James behind to contemplate the significance of Katherine’s pretend affair. But it didn’t take much contemplation because he knew exactly what she was doing: showing him she would not be taken captive.

He had failed her. On the Merry Sea, in Salé, in London, at Dunscore. He had failed her in every possible way. But devil take it, he loved her. And she was still his wife whether she liked it or not. Whether he deserved her or not.

Yes. Yes, he bloody well was going to go to London and fix this, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

CHAPTER FORTY

“YOU MUSTN’T BE angry with me,” Honoria said as she swept into Katherine’s dressing room, which Katherine knew could only mean she would be angry with Honoria the moment she spilled whatever news had pruned those barely painted lips. “La—is that your costume?” Honoria stopped short, staring at the bed.

There was a certain satisfaction in answering, “Yes.”

“It’s...” Honoria shifted wide eyes from the costume to Katherine’s face. “Quite daring.”

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all.” Honoria went to finger the flesh-colored breeches. “I am undone with envy, in fact.”

“Ridiculous. Your costume is fabulous.” But Honoria hadn’t come here to discuss the masquerade. That much was clear, and it was a good bet what Honoria did want to discuss.

Honoria turned her back on the costume, and Katherine held her breath. “Katherine, I’ve been to Croston— No, do not be angry. James is my brother, after all.”

It was the one drawback of their friendship. “I am sorry for your misfortune, but in this case I do not wish to be company for your misery.”

“I’m worried about him, Katherine.”

Honoria’s tone gave her pause. She ignored it. “Your worry is wasted. He may not be accustomed to losing, but you may rest assured he knows from experience that underhanded battle tactics do not always succeed.”

“It isn’t like James to be underhanded,” Honoria said quietly. She took Katherine’s hand and squeezed it. “I can’t condone what he’s done—he was a fool, and nothing less. If he wasn’t my brother, I might even say he’s done the unforgivable. But, Katherine, I’ve never seen him like this.”

Like what? “If he appears to be suffering, you’ve come to the wrong person with your concern.” But her mind conjured up all sorts of imaginings of the state James might be in. She tried to feel pleased.

“Hear me out. Please.” Her gravity was a little alarming. Katherine tried to ignore it. “He’d been drinking when I arrived. It was only one o’clock.”

“Hardly uncommon, and hardly cause for worry.” Though not like James, but she hardly cared.

“He was half-drunk, Katherine. Rumpled clothes, unshaved, hair a mess—he was reading a treatise about pigeons, Katherine. Pigeons!”

“In other words, he is enjoying the retirement he’s been speaking of since he first came aboard my ship. Honoria—”

“No. You don’t understand. There was a quality in his eyes, Katherine. I’ve never seen it before.” Her voice faltered, and Katherine looked hard for any sign Honoria was putting on a performance. “It was as if he didn’t care whether he lives or dies,” Honoria said with difficulty. “Katherine, you must do something. If not for him, for me. I’ve already lost one brother—I don’t think I could stand to lose another.”

Now she was being melodramatic, but it would have been cruel to say so.

“I realize how much I’m asking,” Honoria added. “And that he’s been a complete, utter ass. I told him as much.”

“Yes, he has. He stole my inheritance, Honoria. He lied to me, betrayed me—”

“I know, I know—”

“—after everything he knew, everything I told him! I trusted him.”

“He loves you, Katherine— No, don’t scoff. Please. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

“If he loved me—”

“I know, I know. He never would have done any of this. But Katherine, this is James. You know as well as I how he’s accustomed to thinking. Orders, commands—if he could have commanded you to marry him, I am convinced he would have. Because he loves you, and he doesn’t know any other way.”

* * *

IF HE LOVED her, he would have found another way, Katherine fumed on the way to the masquerade. Such as telling her he loved her, which he’d never done—not when she’d agreed to marry him, not after their wedding, and not when she’d confronted him with his treachery.

Lord and Lady Pollard’s grand masquerade was a glittering sensation, a mass of fabulously costumed people swirling through an endless ballroom beneath painted ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. Dancing, laughter, drinking, gaiety—all of it closed in around Katherine while she tried in vain to forget what Honoria had told her.

I’ve never seen him like this.

Katherine caressed the handle of her cutlass, which for once hung prominently at her side. I won’t draw on you, Katherine. Coward. If he truly respected her, they would have met on the field for what he did.

Let him waste away at Croston. Tonight she felt powerful. Beneath her tricorne hat, her hair hung in loose, shining curls to her waist. Madame Bouchard had altered Grandfather’s old coat so that it hugged her curves. She’d let it hang open in front, revealing a corset and breeches in soft beige that gave the perfect illusion of nudity.

“There isn’t a man here who’s taken his eyes off you all evening,” Honoria said under her breath, giving the white drape of toga across her breasts a little tug—downward. “I ought to send you home.”

“If your toga dips any lower,” she said to Honoria, “you’ll have the attention of every man and woman when your female charms go on public display.”

“I would never allow such a thing to happen.” Beneath her ivy-edged mask, a wicked smile curved Honoria’s lips. “At least, not in front of the entire party.”

Phil, barely concealed in a patterned tunic that was supposed to make her look like an Egyptian goddess, made a noise.

An ill-concealed Duke of Winston ducked through the crowd and joined them. “You look magnificent tonight,” he said to Katherine from behind a sleek black mask. “Positively terrifying—and damned tempting.”

“How impolite to imply that you’ve guessed my identity, Your Grace,” she scolded.

A sparkling white grin appeared below the mask. “My apologies, Madam Pirate. And may I add, I have a great deal of respect for your costume accessories.”

“Perhaps a chain mail tunic should have been your choice for the evening,” Phil told him.

He laughed. “Chain mail is much too tedious for the kind of unexpected situations one finds oneself in at these events.” Even as he spoke, he surveyed the crowd with a glint in his eye.

“Searching for prey, Your Grace?” Katherine asked. He was tiring of their arrangement. So was she, but for entirely different reasons. Her gaze strayed toward the entrance, and she yanked it back. James would not be here tonight, nor did she want him to be.

Above the mask, Winston’s dark brow rose with interest as he returned his attention to her. “Why would I search for prey when I have such a delectable morsel right here at my side? Perhaps you and I could find a secluded alcove and—”

“And nothing,” Honoria snapped. “This has already gone too far.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Katherine said, eyeing Winston. “It might be an enjoyable distraction to cut someone to ribbons this evening.”

The brow disappeared. “Naturally,” he drawled. “Very well, then. No secluded alcove. A dance, perhaps?”

She didn’t want a dance any more than she wanted an alcove—unless both were with James. But that was folly, so she let Winston guide her into the crowd. They took their places in a line of couples that seemed to stretch for a mile. Music filled the room, and she turned with him, stepped aside, stepped together.

Her heart began to ache. He loves you, Katherine.

No. He’d tricked her. Lied to her. Stolen the freedom she could have had.

Step, turn, change partners. She took the hand of a man dressed as Henry VIII.

James knew what freedom meant to her. He knew she valued it above anything, that she would give it up for nothing.

Step, turn, duck, and she was back with Winston.

He knew.

A fledgling realization tumbled through her mind, and she faltered the next step. Winston righted her, and she kept on.

Turn, duck, turn.

He knew.

They turned again, but this time she missed a step because the couples were suddenly moving the wrong direction. She reached to the side to grasp the gentleman’s hand for the next sequence, but nobody was there. The couples had scattered. It took a moment to realize what was happening as the crowd backed away and one by one down the line couples stopped dancing.

A second pirate had joined the masquerade.

A burgundy tunic hung casually over broad shoulders and a solid chest. A length of black linen covered his head and was tied in the back, letting dark waves shot through with silver peek out below. Gold hoops flashed at his ears, and loose, black linen trousers flowed around his legs.

A Royal Navy officer’s sword gleamed at his side.

Winston raised a brow at her and melted into the crowd. Silence descended over the ballroom in a wave that radiated from the center outward. And then a great murmur went up. The same word was on everyone’s lips.

Croston.

He watched her with ruthless green eyes. There was barely a moment to savor the joy that leaped in her pulse before his hand went to his side and, with a smooth shink of metal, he drew on her.

A collective gasp went up through the crowd.

With lightning instinct she matched his motion, and in a heartbeat they faced each other, sabre to sabre.

His stoic expression revealed nothing. Through the corner of her eye she could see people retreating, backing up into each other, at once escaping and giving them room. But her entire focus homed in on his blade.

Whatever this spectacle of a marriage was to become, it would become it right here, right now.

He lunged. She parried. Metal clanged against metal. He circled around, stalking her like a lion hunts its prey. She lunged this time.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Bastard. Liar. Wretch.

She drove him back, back, nearly into the crowd before he regained the advantage. She whirled then and met metal with metal. He held nothing back and soon she forgot all about the crowd. All of her rage at his betrayal exploded to the surface.

There was a sharp sting when his blade nicked her shoulder. A clean bite when her blade sliced his arm.

“Good God, they’ve drawn blood!” someone shouted.

Her breath came fast and hard.

How dare he withhold the committee’s decision from her.

Clang!

Let her marry him believing she had no choice.

Clang! Clang!

They turned. She sidestepped. Parried. Thrust. Lunged—

Froze.

With shock, she realized the point of her blade rested at the hollow of his throat. And the point of his rested at the hollow of hers.

Stalemate.

The ballroom was deathly silent. The stench of perfumes and powders filled her nostrils.

She stared at him. The rise and fall of her breath pressed the point of his blade into her skin. A bead of perspiration trickled down the side of his cheek. His hand was steady, his lips hard. He faced her as an equal now, and her heart pounded as she held his gaze, waiting. Waiting.

He was so beautiful her heart hurt.

I love him. The words leaped from her aching heart into her thoughts, an unexpected jab and parry. God help me, I still love—

He moved suddenly, and with a quick flick of his wrist he knocked her sword out of her hand. It clattered to the floor.

A deafening cheer went up from the crowd and there was barely time to realize what was happening before James had sheathed his sword. Fresh anger welled up. He had seen her distraction and taken the advantage. He stepped forward, taking hold of her arm.