Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 14

Kate sat on the sofa in the library, her feet curled under her. She was writing on a small table that had been pulled up in front of her by one of James’s ever-so-helpful footmen.

She stared blindly at the paper in front of her. The pamphlet.

She sighed, twirling a curl around her finger. Writing the pamphlet was proving more difficult than she’d imagined. And she’d never expected it to be simple. She smoothed her hand over the pieces of parchment in front of her. The ink had long since dried. But it just wasn’t right. Not yet. None of it. She’d started and stopped a dozen times already, crumpling up the insufficient words, and tossing them into the rubbish bin.

She’d begun by telling her story that day. She’d begun by relating her feelings. She’d begun by attempting to explain why she and Markingham had never suited. All of the stories, hopelessly inadequate. Though all of them true. That’s what James wanted … the truth. But which truth? Which one should she tell? Which one was right?

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck with ink-stained fingers. How exactly did one explain one was not a murderess? Or, more correctly … how did one explain one was not a murderess when faced with a mountain of incriminating evidence to the contrary? Every word she’d written seemed hopelessly inadequate.

A knock sounded at the door and she let her hand fall away from her neck, her heart nearly pounding out of her chest. She hadn’t yet become accustomed to the fact that she was no longer at the Tower. A knock on the door there might mean anything from she was being taken to trial to she was being put to death. The constant fear hadn’t left her.

Her pounding heart soon slowed when she called, “Come in,” and glanced up to see James stroll into the room. The man had one hand shoved in his pocket, his dark hair was perfectly in place as usual, and a hint of a smile played upon his firm lips. Kate glanced away. He was too good-looking by half. She pinched the inside of her arm. It was positively indecent of her to have that thought. Oh God, perhaps she deserved to be burned at the stake for her disloyalty to her poor dead husband. But then she thought of Lady Bettina Swinton spending the night at her house, flaunting her relationship with George, and Kate couldn’t quite conjure the guilt she was supposed to feel over being disloyal to the man even though he was dead.

She sucked in her breath, doing her best to ignore the clean masculine scent that accompanied James into the room. She swallowed and turned her attention back to her parchment. “My lord?” she said, picking up her quill and feigning interest in her work. “Do you need something?”

He stopped a few paces in front of her. “I’ve come to ask you something, Kate.”

He took a seat in a chair across from her and she looked up at him. A too serious look rested on his handsome face.

“What’s that?” she asked hesitantly, dropping her quill, and studying his face closely.

“I was speaking with Abernathy—” James began.

Kate shook her head frantically. “We’ve been over this. I don’t think—”

He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his knees. “Leave it to me to worry about it then.”

She glanced away, tears unexpectedly burning the backs of her eyes. “That’s not your occupation, my lord. Or your concern.”

“Tell me, Kate.” He paused. “Is there anything? Anything at all that you remember?”

She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I’ve thought about it so many times. So, so many times. I replay the entire morning over and over again in my mind.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “In addition to George, the only people in the house were myself, Lady Bettina, and the servants.”

“You’re sure of that?”

She nodded. “As sure as one can be in a large estate. We certainly had no other visitors.”

He watched her carefully. She could feel his hazel eyes on her. “Do you think Lady Bettina could have done it?” His voice was tight, authoritative.

Her fingers dropped away from her temples, and she searched the ceiling, resting her palms on her knees. “I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t know why she would. It makes no sense. And they did seem to be … in love.” She sucked in her breath. That last part had been difficult for her to say, he could tell. Damn it, he’d like to lay his fist into Markingham even now.

James’s voice was clear and calm. “Perhaps they had a fight. One you didn’t know about?”

She shrugged, meeting his eyes again. “It’s possible. Anything’s possible. But the only thing I remember…” She looked away, out the dark window. “The only real thing I remember … was coming into that room … and … seeing him.” Her throat worked convulsively.

James reached out and squeezed her hand. It was so small and cold compared to his. “It must have been horrifying,” he whispered.

She blinked away more tears and turned to face him again. “I’m afraid I can be of little help. That is all I remember. And all I know.”

“That’s enough, Kate. Thank you. I shouldn’t be asking so much of you.”

“If I remember anything, I’ll tell you immediately,” she assured him.

“Thank you.” He glanced away briefly. “Now to discuss a more pleasant topic.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her a smile that made her heart do a little flip. The stubble was back on his chin and cheeks this late at night, and she was doing her best to ignore it.

“What topic is that, my lor … James?” She cleared her throat.

He crossed his booted feet at the ankles and rested his hands on his thighs. “You said you wanted to live. That was the bargain, was it not? Annie and Lily assure me your trip to the countryside is being planned as we speak. What else would you like to do?”

She smiled. “Now that I’ve been thinking about and I believe I’ve decided.” She bit her lip, a bit hesitant to admit to him the other thing she’d been wanting. But if he didn’t laugh her out of his home over the desire to visit a farm, this next thing would probably not surprise him one bit. She took a deep breath. “I want to dance at a ball.”

James blinked and his hands dropped to his sides. “A ball?”

She nodded. “Yes. I only attended one ball in my life, before I was married. It was so beautiful and perfect. It was the last time I can remember being happy. Wearing beautiful clothing and enjoying myself. Dancing and laughing and not having a care in the world. I know it’s winter and I know we cannot have guests and moonlit gardens and champagne on the balcony, but oh, James, I want to dance.”

James gave her a conspiratorial grin that made her heart beat faster again. “If it’s a ball you desire, my lady, a ball you shall have.”