Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 15

When Mrs. Hartsmeade and two maids arrived in Kate’s bedchamber that afternoon armed with pins, scissors, thread, and fabric, Kate didn’t know what to make of it.

“His lordship has instructed us to make you a ball gown,” Mrs. Hartsmeade announced.

“A what?” Kate asked, turning in a circle while Louisa measured her waist.

“A ball gown, your grace,” Louisa replied with a bright smile.

“His lordship says he regrets he couldn’t have the finest seamstresses from Bond Street come to work on your gown, but he couldn’t risk the … well, you know.” Mrs. Hartsmeade glanced away.

Kate nodded. “It’s certainly very nice of him and all of you, but I don’t need a real ball gown—”

“No, your grace, he insisted upon it. He picked out the color himself. This gold.” She handed the swath of lovely satin fabric to Kate. “‘It’ll bring out the highlights in the duchess’s hair,’ he said. Though I doubt he’d like it if he knew I repeated such a thing to you.” Mrs. Hartsmeade smiled, and Kate swallowed and pressed her hand to her belly where butterflies had just taken flight.

“He said that?” she asked, feeling like an eighteen-year-old about to make her debut again.

“He did,” Louisa reassured her. “I heard him.”

Kate bit back her smile. She reached out and gingerly touched the gold satin. It was the most beautiful fabric she had ever seen. Why, she couldn’t have picked better herself. “Then, by all means, let’s make me a ball gown.”

By the time the afternoon was over, Kate and the three servants had giggled themselves silly deciding upon all the details of the gown including the décolletage. “Lower,” Kate had insisted, making Louisa blush. She was being improper, no doubt, but this might well be her last chance to dance with a handsome man at a ball in a low-cut gown. And she wanted to live after all.

By the time Mrs. Hartsmeade ushered Louisa and the other maid from her bedchamber, the gown had been entirely designed, was well on its way to being made, and Kate had smiled more than she had in an age. She threw herself on her bed and hugged her pillow. A ball. She was going to attend a ball. And with the ever-so-dashing Lord Medford. She kicked her legs against the cool sheets and squealed into the pillow.

It was two days later before the gown was complete. Kate had spent those two days in a completely unsuccessful attempt to write the pamphlet. She’d spent time reading Lily’s and Annie’s pamphlets over and over again, hoping one or both would spark some idea for her. Make her come up with some formula for success. Both of their pamphlets hinted at scandal and had a bit of a warning tone, but Kate couldn’t imagine how hers ought to be. It would not be a confession. Nor a plea for mercy. She just wanted it to be … honest. Just what James had asked of her. To tell her story, in her words. But what if no one believed her? What if the pamphlet was not a top seller as James had predicted? What if copies were burned in the street? Burned … She gulped. She couldn’t think about that. She must do her best.

Mrs. Hartsmeade came into the study on the second afternoon to announce the ball gown’s completion. She and the girls had worked day and night to sew the fabulous garment and after a few fun fittings, they were ready to declare it finished.

“It’s beautiful,” Kate said, touching the wide skirt reverently, tracing her fingers along the delicate fabric.

“His lordship asked me to give you this.” Mrs. Hartsmeade handed Kate a piece of parchment sealed with wax. Kate widened her eyes and grasped the piece of paper, ripping it open and scanning it quickly. It was an invitation. To Viscount Medford’s ball. The man had thought of everything.

“And you are the guest of honor, your grace,” Mrs. Hartsmeade said with another quick wink.

Kate bit her lip, also biting back the little squeal of happiness that rose to her lips.

She playfully curtsied to the housekeeper. “Please tell his lordship that I shall be most delighted to attend.”

Kate stood in front of the looking glass in her bedroom, butterflies in her stomach again, and a tentative grin on her face. She felt like Cinderella. Certainly her first ball gown had never been this grand. She twirled in a circle. They’d made her wide skirts, reminiscent of the turn of the century in France, with a tight, corsetlike bodice and long sleeves that ended in points on the tops of her hands. It was a lovely gown and Kate felt like a dream in it, petticoats and all.

Louisa had put up her hair in a chignon with a few wisps pulled out to frame her face, and somehow Mrs. Hartsmeade had secured a pot of rouge and Kate dabbed the stuff on her lips and her cheeks and even the smallest bit between her daring décolletage. Live. Live Live. She sung to herself.

She took another look in the mirror and sucked in her breath. She didn’t have any jewels, true, but that was perfectly all right. It wasn’t a real ball. She stared at her reflection. Would Lord Medford think she was beautiful? Oh, why was she even thinking such a thought? It didn’t matter. This entire night was just for fun. Nothing more, nothing less. It was not as if James were a suitor and she a young innocent looking for a husband. In fact, the situation could not be more opposite. She was an accused murderess who had forced the man to throw a pretend ball for her. No, this was not a night for moonlit gardens and stolen kisses. It was freezing outside and she was a prisoner, she thought with a wry smile.

Apparently, she could romanticize anything. She sighed. No sense in waiting any longer. She wanted to dance. She smoothed her eyebrows with her fingertips and gathered up her voluminous golden skirts. Mrs. Hartsmeade had even brought her delicate golden slippers that Lord Medford had apparently purchased for her on Bond Street. He must have set the gossipmongers’ tongues wagging with that purchase. Or wait. Perhaps he’d sent Lily or Annie to do it. That would make much more sense. And those ladies seemed so kind and thoughtful. No doubt the sisters had picked out the beautiful little slippers with the golden bows on the tips.

Kate moved to the door to her bedchamber and reached out to pull the handle just as Louisa came barreling through. “Oh, your grace, beg your pardon.” The maid bobbed a curtsy. She was holding something behind her back.

“Did you forget something, Louisa?” Kate asked.

“No, that is to say … I didn’t.” She had a curious sparkle in her eye.

Kate couldn’t help but smile. “What is it?”

Louisa pulled a midnight-blue velvet case from behind her back and presented it to Kate with both hands. “It’s from his lordship, your grace. He wanted to be sure you wore them tonight.”

Kate gingerly took the velvet case and flipped it open with her thumb. “Oh my!” There, nestled inside the cream silk lining, was the most beautiful set of sapphires in a necklace she’d ever seen. They were large, round, and sparkling. And there were matching ear bobs. “He said they’d bring out your eyes,” Louisa said, fluttering her own eyelashes.

Kate was sure her cheeks were turning pink and her chest felt so tight she couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my goodness, Louisa. These are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Quick. Help me put them on.” She hurried back over to the looking glass and held up the wisps of hair that would be in the way while Louisa took the sapphire necklace and fastened it around her neck.

“I feel like squealing,” Kate admitted, bobbing on her tiptoes. “But I shall refrain.”

“Duchesses squeal?” Louisa asked from behind her with wide eyes that reflected at Kate through the looking glass.

“I don’t know about all the duchesses, but duchesses who were raised on farms do.” She winked at the maid and Louisa gave her a wide, conspiratorial grin.

“If there was anything for a duchess to squeal about, I’d certainly say these jewels qualify,” Louisa replied.

“I couldn’t agree more.” Kate took two very deep breaths and exhaled.

“I’ve noticed you do that, your grace,” Louisa said, motioning to Kate with her chin.

“Do what?”

“Take two deep breaths every so often.”

“Oh, that,” Kate replied. “Yes, my mother taught me that. ‘There’s nothing two deep breaths won’t cure,’ she always said. Especially nerves.”

“You’re nervous?” Louisa asked, wide-eyed again.

Kate laughed and turned to face the maid. “Why, yes, of course. Isn’t every young woman nervous before a ball?”

Louisa glanced down at her hands. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been to ball.”

Kate winced. She pinched the inside of her arm. Of course the maid hadn’t been to a formal ball before. What possible occasion would she have had to go to one?

“I’ll tell you what, Louisa, come to the ballroom later, wear your best dress, and I’ll ask Lord Medford to dance with you.”

Louisa’s eyes looked as if they’d pop from her skull this time. “No, my lady. I absolutely could not!”

Kate laughed. “Why, of course you could. Why not?”

Louisa’s chin trembled. “Because it’s completely improper.”

Kate waved a hand in the air. “Oh, who cares about being proper? Besides, I’m a duchess and I’ve invited you.”

Louisa looked up at her through long lashes. “Do you truly think … Lord Medford wouldn’t mind?”

“I’m sure he’d be delighted. I had neighbors in the country who used to host servants’ balls once a year. I’m sure he’s heard of such a thing before.”

“Yes.” Louisa bit her lip. “I’ve heard of it too, but we’ve never done it here.”

“First time for everything,” Kate replied. She glanced at the clock on the mantel across from the bed. “It’s nearly ten o’clock now. Come at midnight.”

Louisa grinned from ear to ear. “I might just peek in and see how it’s going…”

“Come in, Louisa. And dance. I insist upon it. If Lord Medford won’t dance with you, I’ll dance with you myself.”

Louisa laughed outright at that, and Kate patted her shoulder.

“Now I must hurry,” Kate said. “Mustn’t keep Lord Medford waiting. Thank you for everything.” She squeezed the maid’s hand and quickly hurried over to the door. She pulled the handle and made her way into the corridor.

Kate nearly flew down the hall, rounded the marble balustrade, and made her way as elegantly as possible to the ballroom. Locke stood at the entrance to the room wearing his finest livery. Her eyes went wide when she saw him. What was the butler doing there?

“Miss Kate Blake,” he announced. Kate was delighted. He’d called her by her maiden name. He hadn’t introduced her as the Duchess of Markingham, didn’t call her “your grace,” and was it her imagination or did the man wink at her when she walked past him into the ballroom?

The moment she stepped through the door, Kate caught her breath. She pressed her hand against her middle and took in the scene that lay before her. The entire ballroom was transformed. It had been decorated as if an arbor had come to life inside. Flowers lined the walls, vines had been brought in, hanging greens were everywhere. Why, the man must have raided every conservatory in the land. Where he’d managed to get beautiful fresh flowers in the middle of winter she’d never know. But they were there, all sorts, including red, red roses. Her very favorite. It looked exactly like a … moonlit garden. Just what she’d requested. Unexpected tears stung the back of her eyes. No one—never her husband, certainly—had ever done anything quite so … nice for her before.

There was a refreshment table off to the far right, and a group of musicians stood behind a wooden screen tuning their instruments.

Kate glanced around breathlessly. She was in the middle of a dream. She was sure of it. A movement from the other side of the room caught her eye.

There he was, standing in the middle of the dance floor, surveying the ballroom, a single red rose twirling between his fingers, his other hand in his pocket. He was wearing impeccably tailored black evening clothes, superfine trousers, a black overcoat, and a shirtfront so white it nearly blinded her. His cravat was tied in a perfect knot, but most intriguing of all was the look he wore on his face. So handsome he took her breath away. Kate quickly glanced down to compose herself. Then she turned her face up again and smiled.

He made his way over to her slowly and she curtsied. “My lord.”

He bowed. “My lady.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket and held out his arm to her. She stepped closer and slid her hand through, marveling at the feel of his warm muscles through his coat. She took a deep breath.

“You are breathtaking,” James said, handing her the rose. “I thought you might like this.”

“Roses are my favorite,” she murmured, noticing that he’d plucked away the thorns. She twirled it in her gloved hand and brought it up to her nose to inhale its sweet scent.

“I remember,” he murmured. “I’ve been sending them to your room every morning.”

Her eyes went wide. “That was you? I thought it was merely a coincidence.” Her chest felt tight again.

“Nothing is a coincidence,” he said. And then, “The sapphires bring out your eyes.”

She sucked in her breath and touched the lovely necklace with the hand that held the rose. “Thank you so much for allowing me to wear them,” she murmured. “They are beautiful.”

His arm dropped away and he turned to look at her with a furrowed brow. “Wear them? They were a gift.”

Her eyes met his and her breath caught. She couldn’t allow him to give her such an extravagant gift. It was exceedingly inappropriate. Not to mention that she hadn’t much occasion to wear jewels nor would she in the future … But it was exceedingly kind of him just the same. She opened her mouth to speak. “I cannot—”

“I hope you’re not thinking it improper of me,” he replied, as if reading her thoughts. “We’re far past improper.”

She snapped her mouth shut. And smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “I was actually thinking … I wouldn’t need them…” She couldn’t finish that thought. She looked down at the marble floor.

He slipped a finger under her chin and tilted up her face to look at him. “Let me worry about that. Tonight is for … dancing.” He let his hand fall away, and Kate knew a moment of regret.

She glanced away, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

Twirling her rose between her fingers again, she gestured to the musicians with her hand. “Why are they hidden?”

“I couldn’t allow them to see my guest, could I? The music might be a bit strained but it’s a precaution we must take.”

As if on cue, the music started, and a beautiful song began to play. “Shall we?” He offered her his arm again.

“Which dance?” Her brow was furrowed.

“Ah, I see I shall have to teach you to waltz.”

She shook her head. “Waltz?”

“Yes, it’s all the rage. The Prince Regent introduced it at a ball last summer.”

Kate reached out and slid her gloved hand over his sleeve again. James’s arm was so warm and hard and muscled and, oh, she mustn’t think such things. Apparently, the waltz involved a bit more … intimacy than the dances she remembered from so long ago. He showed her the steps and she did her best to concentrate upon remembering them. But she found it rather difficult with his hand on her waist and the feel of his strong shoulders under her fingertips.

James plucked the rose from her fingers and tucked it behind her ear, then he took her into his arms.

And they danced.

“You are a perfect dancer,” she said, concentrating on the steps and trying not to think about how well his broad shoulders filled out his evening coat.

He flashed a grin. “Perfect?”

“What? Did I say something funny?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s just that my epithet is ‘Lord Perfect.’”

“Ah, so I’ve heard.”

He arched a brow. “Who told you?”

She pressed her lips together. She couldn’t very well tell him she’d been asking a possibly treasonous prisoner about him. But then she remembered, Lady Mary wasn’t the only one who’d mentioned it. “Lily told me.”

Both of his eyebrows shot up this time. “Did she?”

“Yes.”

“And did she tell you why?”

Kate laughed. “She didn’t have to. I’ve seen your house, your study, your desk, your paperwork, even your hair. Oh, and your cravat.”

“What’s wrong with my cravat?” he asked with a mock frown.

She giggled. “Nothing! That’s my point. Everything about you is perfect. Including this ball,” she breathed. “It looks like a fairy tale in here.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, not taking his eyes from her face.

Her voice shook a little. “Do you dislike your epithet?”

He sighed. “I used to be proud of it.”

“Used to?”

“Yes.”

“And now you’re not?” She cocked her head to the side.

He narrowed his eyes for a moment as if lost in thought. “Perfect is a dangerous word. Sometimes being perfect isn’t a choice.”

Kate was still contemplating that cryptic answer when he asked, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

She gave him a self-conscious little smile. “Yes, immensely. I’ve always adored dancing but had little occasion to do so.”

“I’m sorry we can’t do more of the country dances and the quadrilles without more dancers.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” she said. “I find I am quite enjoying the waltz.” A bit too much. Kate wouldn’t mind if every dance were a waltz.

She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hope I remember tonight forever.”

“‘For it is the beginning of always,’” he replied.

Kate caught her breath. The Dante quote had always been one of her favorites. And James had said it. Something about that made her heart wrench. She kept her eyes focused on his perfectly tailored jacket, trying to blink away the unexpected tears that had sprung to her eyes.

They danced three more waltzes before James led Kate over to the refreshment table. With a bow, he offered her a glass of champagne, and she plucked it eagerly from his fingers. “We may not want to drink this on the balcony, given the temperature tonight, but we can pretend we’re outside,” he said.

“Thank you, my lord,” she replied with a curtsy.

“Oh, we’re back to using titles tonight?”

“No,” she breathed, taking a long sip of champagne. “I just want to pretend. I want to pretend I’m eighteen again, and you’re a beau, and we’re courting at a ball.”

His smile made her knees weak. “Exactly why I asked Locke to introduce you as Miss Blake.”

She grinned at him. “I thought as much. Thank you for that. It made all the difference.”

He touched a curl that had fallen against her neck, and the warmth of his hand on her skin nearly made her knees buckle.

“So,” he said. “If we were courting and we were at a ball, I would endeavor to get you alone with me.”

She laughed a little laugh. “And if I had a fan, I would slap you with it playfully.”

“Is that all?” He arched a brow, and Kate had to glance away. She was becoming a little too good at pretending tonight.

“I don’t believe you. You’re much too much of a gentleman to attempt such a thing as getting me alone with you.” She laughed again. But her laugh was cut short when he tugged her gloved hand and led her into a secluded spot behind one of the nearby vines and sets of flowering bushes. The music still played but they were entirely alone for the moment.

“Don’t count upon it.” His voice was low.

Kate swallowed. Hard. He smelled like soap and the barest hint of sense-tingling cologne. She wanted to touch him. The thought came out of nowhere and stole her breath. But he was just playing with her. Teasing. Trying to give her the experience she’d asked for at the pretend ball. Wasn’t he? She squared her shoulders. Perhaps there was only one way to find out.

“Now that you’ve got me alone, my lord, what do you intend to do with me?” Where she had conjured the nerve to say that, she would never know. Must be the champagne. The tiniest amounts of the stuff had always made her a bit bold. Must get more champagne.

He stepped closer and his eyes sparkled. They looked positively emerald in the shadows. “What does any gentleman want to do when he’s alone in a secluded alcove with a beautiful lady?”

Her voice faltered. “I … s-suppose he would try to … steal a kiss.” She touched her fingertips to the sapphire necklace. “But you … you would never be so improper.”

He leaned over and pulled the champagne flute from her numb fingers and set it on the ledge of the wainscoting next to them. She watched him as if in a trance. He leaned down. His cheek brushed hers. He whispered in her ear. “As I said earlier, we’re far past improper.” He tugged her into his arms and his mouth swooped down to capture hers.

Kate’s head fell back and her arms went wide for a moment. This couldn’t be happening. She was not being kissed by Lord Medford. Handsome, dashing, perfect Lord Medford. She hadn’t thought for a moment he’d actually go so far as to kiss her. She’d wished for it, certainly, but the man was far too proper to—Very well, no he wasn’t. And she was about to take full advantage of that fact. Live. Live. Live.

She slowly allowed her arms to travel up his rock-hard chest and wrap around his shoulders. She lifted up on tiptoe to meet his mouth. His was hot, demanding. His body leaned into hers and pushed her back against the wall. He pressed into her, and she moaned. He ravaged her lips, kissing her in ways she’d never even known a man could kiss a woman. The only other kisses she’d received had been George’s tentative ones while they’d been courting and then his impatient ones when they’d been married, but none of them compared to the full onslaught of the senses she was experiencing now.

James’s mouth owned her, shaped her lips, explored her mouth. Then moved to her cheek, her temple, her earlobe. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She moaned. She wanted to rub herself against him. Wanted to pull him on top of her, wanted to—

“You’re so beautiful, Kate,” he whispered in her ear.

She could pretend, couldn’t she? That he was a beau and she was eighteen again. Why not?

“You smell like roses, and oh God—” He left off when she pressed her breasts to his chest and met his mouth again. He pulled away, moving down to kiss her throat, nuzzling at the delicate spot where her jaw met her neck. “That ball gown has been driving me insane all evening.”

Kate shuddered.

James moved up again and pressed his forehead to hers. He expelled his breath and closed his eyes, cradling her hands in his.

Kate looked up through kiss-drugged senses. In the back of her mind it vaguely registered that a clock somewhere within the house was striking twelve. Twelve. Midnight.

Midnight!

She’d invited Louisa. The maid would arrive at any moment. “James, there’s something I must tell you.”

She pulled away, out of his arms.

He turned to look at her, guilt and resignation etched upon his handsome face. “There’s no need, Kate. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have—”

She shook her head. “No. You don’t understand. I promised Louisa you’d dance with her tonight. At midnight.”