Chapter Twenty-Two

Dressed in a lime-green day gown, Kitty glided down a curving flight of steps to the main floor. Her friends were all gathered in the drawing room, after insisting on having this month’s intrepid meeting at her town house, simply because she had never hosted the Sinful Wallflowers before. Her previous humble abode’s location had not been ideal. And Kitty was glad for today’s meeting, for she needed their advice and comforting presence.

She entered the drawing room, and lightness entered her heart to see the heads of Ophelia, Maryann, and Fanny bent together as they giggled over pictures in some book.

“I do hope that is not another naughty book snatched from your brother’s collection, Maryann,” Kitty greeted, closing the door behind her to afford them privacy. She was pleased to see tea, sandwiches, and cakes had already been sent up.

“Charlotte may not make it; her mother has forced her to take a carriage ride with the odious Viscount Mauler,” Fanny said crossly, closing the book. “He attempted to take liberties with her on their last outing, and she smacked him with her parasol. I am surprised he is still pursuing her.”

“He wants his heir,” Ophelia said with a snort of disgust. “The man has been married twice and has seven daughters! I cannot believe Charlotte’s mamma is even entertaining the man’s pursuit.”

“And the viscount is older than her father,” Maryann said with a scowl.

“She must be devastated,” Kitty said, moving to sit between the girls on the sofa. “I believe she truly admires Lord Sands, and to be forced to marry where her heart does not lie is so cruel! We must help her escape his clutches.”

Her passionate outburst had her friends examining her rather closely.

“I can sense we are about to hatch a plan to save dear Charlotte,” Maryann said, fixing her glasses firmly on her nose. “But first we need to fix you.”

“Me?” She glanced around the room. “And where is Emma?”

“Yes, you,” Maryann retorted. “Emma is in Cornwall visiting her aunt who is ill.”

“We have seen your despondency,” Fanny said archly, artfully passing around tea for everyone. “We would be poor friends if we had not observed the strain in your smile at last night’s ball. Now, tell us what happened in Scotland. Ophelia of course told us where you went.”

Kitty scowled at her friend, and Ophelia merely gave an inelegant shrug.

“Did you mean to keep it from us?” Maryann asked gently, a vein of hurt in her tone.

A lump formed in Kitty’s throat. “Of course not. You are all my dear friends, and I trust you to keep my confidences. I have simply been so wretched!” She took a deep breath and spilled the entire story with the duke, even including details she had not shared with Anna. Such as the fact that Kitty had kissed the duke several times.

“Well, upon my soul, you love him,” Fanny gasped, her eyes wide.

“I do, and I hate that I do, for he does not care for me. I have been away from him for a month, and all the odious man does is torment me with notes and flowers but say nothing more!”

“Love! You hardly know him, Kitty,” Ophelia objected, sounding considerably surprised.

Kitty surged to her feet and started pacing by the windows. “How long does it take to fall endlessly into passion and feel tender sentiments for another? No other has ever held such power to sway my emotions from one extreme manner to the next as the duke. I ache for him, and then I feel such anger, then I cry, and then I laugh when I remember the incredible moments we spent together.” She paused and stared at her friends, who returned her regard with an air of astonishment.

“There is something wonderful between us, and it sparks to life from a mere glance and transcends into something so profound at times that I am breathless, unable to believe such feelings for this person could be real. I am certain, so certain that the duke feels it, too! That wretched, odious man!”

Ophelia’s eyes widened, and she lowered her teacup and saucer to the table before their sofa. “Your nerves are overset.”

Kitty snorted inelegantly and resumed her pacing, wearing the carpet into the floor. A stark emptiness rose inside her like a great swell, threatening to drown her. “With Alexander, I saw…” She choked on the words, tears welling in her eyes.

Maryann stood, ambling over, and touched Kitty’s hands fleetingly, her eyes warm with compassion. “What did you see?”

“Happiness.” She closed her eyes, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Kitty swiped it away with anger. “I cannot explain it. I am happy with Mamma and my sisters, doing everything I can to help them find their place within society. But since I met the duke, I saw…I saw happiness for me—and for him. This hope is unlike any I’ve ever felt and I daresay will ever experience again. It feels raw, powerful, and fills every part of my heart with a certainty that Alexander is an important part of my life. He is not my life…but he completes it so fully, I know now how empty I’ve been. I suspect I am his happiness, too, but he will not reach for me. He sends me notes and flowers yet no words of love or commitment. He mocks every emotion I feel in my soul for him by remaining silent!”

“What do the notes say?” Maryann asked.

“They are all simple letters… He misses me… He thinks of me,” she said with a note of wonderment. “Things we had not shared in our time at McMullen Castle. But if he wants me to know these things, why is he telling me in this wretched manner with little directions to his regards?”

Fanny also stood and drifted closer. “Perhaps he is afraid.”

“Afraid?” Kitty cried, her heart incensed beyond measure. “He is Alexander Masters, Duke of Thornton. What about me can he fear?”

“Of disappointing you, hurting you with his limitations, loving you so much, he would rather set you free than be a burden,” Ophelia murmured.

“How absurd. A man as self-assured and indomitable as Alexander could never think he would be a burden,” Kitty said softly.

But then her thoughts drifted to their moments on the lake. With you I want to share my silence.

Alexander was a man who had chosen to exile himself from society. And had done so for ten years. Yet he had stepped from his cold, lonely world and braved the scandal sheets and society’s overly lurid speculation to meet her. The first such person to interest him…touch him…kiss him in years.

She pressed the tips of her fingers to her lips, remembering the incredible taste and feel of him, the powerful press of his body against hers.

Yet it wasn’t those memories that made her throat ache with longing. It was the way he’d teased her, charmed her, brought laughter and happiness to her heart. And it was the way he had made her feel comfortable to speak about her dreams and to be natural without fear of being lambasted for being willful or overly passionate.

He liked her impudence.

And she…she loved him.

“He believes his limitations will be a burden to my happiness when it is so far from the truth. He said…he said he may never be able to love me as a man loves a woman; he may never be able to grant me children. We had an intimate moment, and he got hurt during…during…” She ended on a huff, blushing furiously. “After that, he rejected every offer of comfort and my love. Since then I have been so despondent and unlike myself!”

Her friends were silent at this passionate confession.

“And you want him still?” Fanny asked, searching her expression.

“Yes.” That truth she could not hide from, nor did she want to pretend about the affections she felt for Alexander.

Ophelia smiled. “If he’ll not come to you, you must go to him.”

“And do what?”

“Convince him that you are meant to be together,” Maryann said with conviction. “You are fierce and brave and quite inventive. I’ve never known you to wilt away from any challenge.”

Kitty stared at her friend. “He should be the one convincing me! I do not know if I wish to sway him. He is the one who sent me away.”

“That is foolish pride and fear speaking, Kitty,” Fanny whispered. “You are already so certain you and the duke are meant to be. You need no convincing on that matter.”

Those softly spoken words pierced her heart deeply. She pressed a hand over her lips. “I would not know what to say.”

Ophelia pursed her lips. “Seduce him.”

“Seduce him?” Kitty gasped.

“Yes. You said there were intimate moments before he got hurt. Perhaps it is still possible. Charm the duke with kisses and improper touches and show him that there can be normalcy between you two.”

Maryann gasped, while Fanny laughed with delighted wickedness. Kitty could only stare at her friends. “What do I know of seduction? And I hardly think that might sway Alexander.”

Ophelia took a demure sip of her tea, the slow movement quite at odds with the terribly devilish glint in her eyes. “Men have a reputation of being weak…desperately weak to our kisses, you know. And if the duke truly wants you as much as you want him…I daresay kisses are bound to work.”

Maryann flushed and asked, “I gather you speak from some experience?”

Ophelia tossed her dark head. “I have a friend…you may have heard of her—Cosima Wagner.”

Kitty eyed Ophelia with new appreciation. Those who had been acquainted with her father knew that he was dotingly fond of her, perhaps to Lady Ophelia’s determent. Kitty had no notion her friend was being this naughty. To be friends with a lady rumored to be a courtesan?

“The Prussian princess who is in exile? There is a rumor she is the mistress of that vile gaming hell owner. The one who is always in the paper for his wickedness,” Maryann gasped.

To Kitty’s shock, a flush ran along Ophelia’s cheek.

“Devlin Byrne,” she murmured.

“A very made-up name if I ever heard one.” Fanny sniffed. “But yes, that is the man, and everyone believes the princess and Mr.—”

“They are not lovers!” Ophelia said, a peculiar vulnerability flashing in her eyes before she lowered her lids. “We are friends of sort, Cosima and I. And she is very knowledgeable about men…and what is needed to seduce a gentleman to our way of thinking. She says there are many arts to rousing a man’s body. I daresay a woman should know more about it than stuffy old doctors!” She looked away, a full blush engulfing her body at her friends’ stare.

Kitty hesitated, at a rare loss for words. Finally, she asked, “You have inquired of this lady how to seduce a man?”

She nodded guiltily, her color deepening. “Yes.”

“Ophelia, what have you been doing?” Maryann cried.

Shock blasted through Kitty anew. “For what purpose?” she asked in a dramatically low voice. An indecipherable emotion flashed in her friend’s eyes before it was shuttered, and Kitty realized with a good deal of alarm that she was not the only one acting in a wicked and ruinous manner.

“Did we not all promise to be wicked, bold, and unflinching in our desire to secure our happiness?” Ophelia demanded. Yet her voice cracked, and in her eyes, Kitty saw an uncertainty she would not have thought possible in the most daring of her friends.

“We did,” Kitty said softly, taking Ophelia’s gloved hands between her own.

How marvelous if we should all be guilty of doing something wicked, just for once? It felt like she had asked this question of her friends a lifetime ago. And yet here she was giving up on the promise of a forever kind of love, the kind she had to show Alexander was worth any risk.

“Do you believe she would teach me?”

Ophelia smiled and said obligingly, “If you have the courage to ask, my dear Cosima will tell you whatever you wish to know.”

“And am I assured of her discretion?”

“I have been meeting with her for more than two months. No one is aware of our friendship.”

Kitty took a steadying breath. “Please introduce me to her. I shall be excessively thankful if you would.”

…

Alexander closed the book he’d been reading and exited his library. He called for Hoyt, who assisted him to his chamber, another loss of dignity he now accepted he must suffer. Years ago, he had converted a room downstairs to a chamber, finding it arduous to get a bath chair up those stairs, finding it humiliating to be lifted about by his manservant. That had been one of the reasons that had driven him to leave the chair, and he had learned to conquer those damnable stairs on his own terms and had ordered his chamber to be set back upstairs. Once again, now he could not make the stairs without help.

“I am here, Your Grace,” Hoyt murmured, appearing by his side. “Let me carry you up.” A suggestion he made each time Alexander would ascend.

“No.” A reply he would always make.

With a grunt, he heaved himself from the chair. Hoyt hooked one of his shoulders under his arm, and they slowly made the climb. A footman lifted the bath chair and plodded patiently behind them until they reached the landing of the upper floor. Once there, he settled into the chair, glanced at them, and nodded his thanks. Very much used to the ritual and his peculiarities, the footman bowed and returned belowstairs.

Hoyt wheeled Alexander to his room without speaking. A fireplace crackled merrily in the spacious room, and though Katherine had never entered his private chambers, he scented her lovely and alluring fragrance in the air. His manservant assisted him from the chair and removed his boots, trousers, waistcoat, jacket, and unmentionables before aiding him to slip on a dark blue silk banyan.

He stood by the windows, staring across the vast lands. The sun was down now, and deep purple twilight blanketed the mountains and valleys in stunning splendor.

“Shall I escort you to the bed or the chaise, Your Grace?”

Alexander shifted and faced his manservant. “Leave me with my stick, and I shall make it there tonight.”

Hoyt hesitated briefly, then complied. Alexander grasped the walking stick, placing most of his weight on it, and propped his left shoulder on the wall by the windows.

“Shall I ring for a bath?”

“I had one only a few hours past,” he murmured drily.

“A brandy, then? Or whiskey?”

Alexander considered his manservant critically. “What are you worried about that you must hover so like a nanny?”

Hoyt’s craggy face creased into a scowl. “A nanny, Your Grace?”

“Yes.”

His manservant took a steadying breath. “You seem different tonight. You did not eat supper again, and Cook is a mite worried. Shall I tell her to send up a tray?”

“I’ll eat a hearty breakfast.”

Hoyt nodded, glancing around the space before resting his gaze back to Alexander. “The room smells pleasant.”

Alexander arched an incredulous brow. “I am aware you ordered the maids to spray my room with lavender. And the drawing rooms. Music room. And the hallway. Now leave me be!”

The man had the grace to flush, but he made no reply to Alexander’s annoyance at their incessant meddling. Hoyt bowed and left the room silently, closing the door behind him, and Alexander released an irritable grunt before smiling.

They hovered around him as if he were a babe, and while it irked him, a peculiar warmth also filled his chest. They did more than just serve him—they cared for him, and for the first time in a long while, he acknowledged his relationship with his staff was more than a master servant exchange.

They, as much as Penny, were his family.

They hadn’t given up on him; they had cried when he cried and felt anguish when he did.

Now they felt the loss of his Katherine and did everything within the bounds of propriety to urge him to think of her, and he knew for what they hungered. A mistress of McMullen Castle, a duchess, the pitter-patter of little lords and ladies in the nursery.

Alexander tugged the heavy drapes open even wider and nudged the window up. A biting chill slipped into the room, but he did not tug the pane back down. The sky was overcast, with all the stars hidden, and the weather dreary although they were now slipping into the high point of the summer season.

Katherine was gone, and Eugene and Penny would depart in the morning. Only the memories of family, passion, love, and laughter would linger within Alexander, and he cursed himself a thousand times for not chasing after her, even if he had barely been able to walk.

Most days, he couldn’t bear to think of the manner in which he had hurt her. And yet he could think of nothing else. It had been weeks since he had ordered flowers delivered to her daily. Only a simple note had accompanied the blooms, for he had not known what to say, how to express his regret and his uncertainties. A man once lauded as an orator in parliament for his speeches championing the indigent found himself bereft of words.

I am so damn sorry, my darling Katherine seemed inadequate to express the pain and embarrassment he had caused. Her replies were even more succinct than his and bereft of any warmth or sentiments or an inkling of where he stood with her.

And he deserved her insouciance.

He jerked away from the windows and ambled carefully over to his bed. Resting the cane on top of the plush comforter, he climbed onto the bed with a soft groan of relief. He thought of what the doctor had advised and what it might mean if he successfully roused his cock to life.

He might be able to give Katherine a life that was not so empty.

Alexander stared at the Renaissance-painted ceiling for several minutes, clearing his mind from all the doubts that lingered within. He filled his mind with Katherine. Her warm scent, the sweet shyness of her smile that could so easily bloom to that of a wicked vixen. The way she tossed her head when she laughed, that soft, hungry moan she’d made when he had touched his tongue to hers that very first time.

A kiss of heat coasted over him, and he closed his eyes, allowing only Katherine in his mind. He imagined tracing her spine downward to that delicious curve of her buttocks, then upward again, caressing the delicate softness of her bare shoulders, trailing his fingers along her collarbone and over her rosy nipples. His heart jerked, and desire warmed his body.

Alexander gripped his flaccid cock in his palm and slowly rubbed his hand over the length. With each stroke, he pictured Katherine flushed with passion, remembered the hot, sweet taste of her quim on his tongue, felt the tight clasp of her cunny as she had squeezed his fingers. His gut clenched, his heart raced, and a hiss escaped him as urgent need coiled through him. Yet, as expected, his cock remained limp.

He shifted closer to the edge of the bed and reached for the jar of lavender-scented oil on the bedside chest. Bringing it just below his nose, he inhaled deeply, stirring his senses by recalling Katherine’s subtle and arousing smell. Alexander pried the lid open and dipped three of his fingers in the oil before stretching to place the open jar on his chest. He allowed the oil to trail between his knuckles down to his palm. Using his oil-slicked hand, he reclaimed his cock once more and began a slow massage.

Alexander stroked from the base of his manhood up to the tip several times to no avail. He tugged and even jerked harshly a few times before he released his manhood, placing his hand across his forehead with a groan of frustration. There was no pain to distract him, yet he could not rouse his body.

His breath puffed harshly in the stillness of the room, and it shocked him utterly to feel tears sting his eyes. With a snarl of frustration and determination, he freed his mind once more and clasped his cock, and after several minutes of trying to rouse himself with chaotic thoughts and images of a well-pleasured Katherine crowding his senses, he accepted defeat.

Alexander acknowledged then that this was the very reason he had waited almost two weeks after Dr. Grant’s suggestion of self-ministration to tempt his cock to rise. Fear of failure.

Alexander ached, quite desperately, to bring into existence the future he envisioned with Katherine—traveling the world, making love with her, but most of all, the laughter…the sweet way she smiled, her bold vivacity for life…that would sweep away the emptiness he had lived with for so long.

But more than anything else, he wanted to fulfill her happiness and dreams.

His heart was lost to Katherine Danvers, and every prudent consideration as to why their match would be ill judged scattered like ashes to the winds.

He would go for her…and explain that while she had his heart, his love—everything else he could give her as a man…as a husband had been lost. The promise of pleasure that had been rekindled had vanished, and it might never be regained. His heart, his title, and his wealth would be hers, but her body would never know the fulfillment of pleasure, and she would not have a child to cradle against her bosom.

You are a flame that has no end, and it would be such a damn pity to see your spark dim…

Words he meant with his entire being. And damn his selfish soul, he could not let her go. He loved her too much. Hungered for her too much.

But once he took her, it was inevitable that burning passion and sweet flame would eventually die. And even knowing that, he closed his eyes, damning himself and Katherine, for tomorrow he would prepare to travel to London for her and, if she would have him, never would he let her go.