For the love of—
Blade craned his neck to the left and blinked in disbelief.
Kitty, who normally turned up her nose at anything resembling physical activity, was sitting in a boat wrestling with a pair of heavy oars, while the fiery-haired woman on the bench behind her shouted directions.
What in the bloody hell was his niece up to? He and Hazel had already rescued her once, for crying out loud. Now she was going to risk her neck again and possibly make a spectacle of herself in front of the entire town.
“Come on, Bladenton,” Gladwell called over his shoulder. “What’s going on back there? We’re already falling behind.”
Sure enough, a few boats had pulled away from the pack. The blacksmith and stablemaster. Dunmire and Nathan. And, to the shock of everyone, Kitty and her partner.
Blade plunged his oars into the water and pulled them through, determined to make up for the slow start—and to keep an eye on Kitty in case anything went awry.
If and when her boat capsized, someone had to be ready to dive in and protect her from the small fleet coming up behind them. She could be struck in the head with an oar or the hull of a boat or—
“You do realize this is a race?” the doctor shouted dryly. “At this rate, Dunmire and Nathan will row clear across the English Channel before we reach the finish line.”
“Dunmire can bugger off for all I care,” Blade grumbled.
Gladwell shot him a death glare. “Fine. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not lose to pair of young women.”
Blade hazarded a glance in Kitty’s direction and felt his chest swell. Her face was the picture of determination and concentration. She and her partner moved in perfect harmony, leaning into each stroke and pulling through with impressive grace. She was holding her own, and her boat was just a few lengths behind Dunmire’s. “Watch it, Doc. You’re talking about my niece.”
But Blade wasn’t keen on losing, either—especially not to the pretentious viscount. So he put his back into the next several strokes, and, before long, he and Gladwell were neck and neck with Kitty’s boat. He looked over and gave her an encouraging nod, but she stared straight ahead, as though she feared the slightest break in her concentration might send her boat sailing directly into the reeds along the shore.
“Keep it up,” the doctor shouted at Blade. “We’re gaining on Dunmire.”
Beads of sweat broke out on Blade’s brow, and his forearms burned. Gladwell grunted with each stroke and cursed under his breath. But their efforts were paying off. They were creeping up on the viscount’s stern. Nathan’s shirt was soaked with sweat, and Dunmire’s face was red as a radish.
“We’ll pass them on the right,” Blade said. There was more than enough room between the shore and Dunmire’s boat, and the maneuver would place them in excellent position for the last stretch of the race. Kitty and her partner were a few lengths behind them now, away from the rest of the boats but keeping up their steady pace. With a little luck they’d finish in third place—an impressive feat.
Blade was vaguely aware of the crowd cheering, banners flying, and children running along the shore. But his sole focus was on winning, if only to prevent Dunmire from lording the silver cup over everyone at Lady Rufflebum’s next dinner party.
He and the doc were only half a length behind now, poised to take the lead—until the bow of Dunmire’s boat drifted right. Directly into their path.
“Look out,” Gladwell warned. “We’re coming up.”
“No, you’re not.” The viscount’s boat lurched farther to the right.
Nathan threw down his oars in disgust. “What the devil are you doing, Dunmire?”
Before the viscount could answer, the boats collided. The oars clashed. The hulls ran aground.
“Damn it!” Their boat was wedged between Dunmire’s on one side and the mucky shore on the other. Blade swatted the long reeds away from his face. “Push us backward, Doc.”
Gladwell knelt over the bow and tried to shove off the bank, but the boat wouldn’t budge.
“Unfortunate,” the viscount taunted. “There’s no telling how long you’ll be stuck in the silt.”
To Blade’s left, Kitty and her partner rowed furiously, slipping into first place. Despite his predicament, his heart squeezed in his chest. Kitty needed someone to believe in her, and that someone should be him. By God, it was him.
Dunmire frowned as the girls glided by. He jammed his oar between the hulls, clearly intending to push off, dislodge his boat, and retake the lead. “Excuse us, gentlemen. We have a race to win.”
Blade scoffed. “You’ll never catch them.”
“You never know. We might inadvertently clip the side of their boat, too.”
“The hell you will.” Blade wrested the oar from Dunmire’s hand, yanked it out of the rowlock, and—to the shock of the spectators above them on the shore—pitched the oar into a bunch of cattails.
“You bastard,” Dunmire spat.
On the bank, the ladies gasped beneath their parasols.
“Better a bastard than a cheat,” Blade quipped.
Doc held out a palm. “Easy, now.”
Dunmire stood up in his boat, puffed out his chest, and glared.
Nathan tugged on the viscount’s arm. “You two can discuss this later tonight over a pint at the Mermaid. Now sit down and cool off.”
The barkeep was right. Blade’s head told him the regatta was no place for a fight, but Dunmire could only push him so far.
“You should not have impugned my honor,” the viscount said haughtily.
Blade snorted. “You should not have behaved like an arse.”
Dunmire lunged at him, Blade grabbed him by the lapels, and they both tumbled overboard, thrashing in the knee-deep water.
They rolled in the muck, punching, wrestling, and cursing until Doc and Nathan hopped into the water and pried them apart.
Gladwell hooked Blade’s arms behind his back and hoisted him to his feet. He stood there, dripping and panting, wondering how in hell a damned regatta had ended in a mud fight.
In the distance, the crowd erupted in cheers.
Kitty. She’d done it.
Blade broke free, splashed his way through the reeds, and climbed onto the shore. He ran toward the tents and large dais that had been set up near the finish line.
He wasn’t certain what drove him or why he was so determined to see Kitty lift the silver cup. He only knew he needed to be there, and nothing—not his drenched clothes nor burgeoning black eye—was going to keep him away.
Hazel, Lucy, and Clara stood near the dais, shouting and waving their colorful scarves.
“I can’t believe it!” Lucy jumped up and down. “They won!”
Clara beamed. “I’m not surprised.”
Hazel could barely contain her happiness as Poppy and Kitty climbed out of their boat and onto the pier, waving triumphantly to the scores of spectators lining the path to the dais. As soon as Kitty saw Hazel, Lucy, and Clara, she ran over and threw her arms around them.
“My whole body is shaking,” Kitty confessed. “I didn’t think I could keep going, but I couldn’t disappoint Poppy. I can’t believe we won.”
“We all believed in you,” Clara said confidently.
Kitty arched a brow. “Even Miss Lively?”
Hazel opened her mouth to respond, but a deep voice beat her to it.
“No one cheered louder than Miss Lively.”
“Uncle Beck!” Kitty’s face lit up, and she clung to him, heedless of his sopping shirt and waistcoat.
Hazel blinked. Apparently, Blade had been dragged through mud and dusted with sand. A small cut above his brow was smeared with blood. He was utterly disheveled and disreputable.
But he’d never looked better to Hazel.
The tender, slightly awkward way he patted Kitty’s back melted Hazel’s insides. Somehow, he’d guessed that his niece needed her family there. He’d known that this wonderful, victorious moment in her young life would make her miss her parents in the worst way. That her joy would be tinged with sadness—because the people she loved most weren’t there to share it.
Poppy rushed over, and Hazel hugged her. “Congratulations! I’m so delighted for you.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Kitty.” Poppy wiped her brow with her sleeve. “She saved my skin—and my brother’s. Because if I lost the race due to Dane’s carelessness, I would have murdered him.”
“Thank goodness it didn’t come to that,” Hazel teased. “Look, it’s time for the award ceremony. You and Kitty must go.”
Lucy and Clara followed the winners to the edge of the dais. Hazel stayed back, and Blade remained at her side while Mr. Martin, Bellehaven’s mayor, formally presented the cup to Poppy and Kitty. Hazel was listening to all the kind things the mayor said, truly she was.
But she was understandably distracted by Blade’s closeness. In her defense, his shirt was plastered to his arms and chest. His trousers were painted on his buttocks and thighs.
Heat rolled off his body, enveloping her in flames.
He shifted, moved nearer, and let his fingers surreptitiously caress the inside of her wrist.
Doing her level best to appear unaffected, she whispered, “I must assume that at some point during the regatta, you were attacked by pirates and forced to walk the plank. I can think of no other plausible explanation for your current state of disarray.”
“You like me this way,” he drawled, his breath tickling her ear.
“Like you’ve emerged from a swamp?”
“No. A bit dirty.” His finger slid up her forearm, and her heart tripped in her chest. “But never fear. I’ll make myself presentable before the play, and after…”
“After?”
“Perhaps we can spend some time together,” he whispered. “Alone.”
She swayed on her feet, barely resisting the urge to lean into him. “Perhaps.”
Maybe she’d been too hasty in refusing Blade’s proposal. True, he’d still not said anything of love, but his actions told her plenty. He’d come to Bellehaven of his own accord. He’d stood beneath her window last night. He’d been here for Kitty. Those things felt an awful lot like love, and a seedling of hope sprouted in her chest.
Meanwhile, on the stage, Polly and Kitty each held a handle on a silver cup and raised it between them, triumphant. The crowd broke out in applause; Blade and Hazel joined in. For once, everything was going her way. Indeed, it seemed everything was right with the world.
“Bladenton. I’ve been looking all over for you.” The woman’s voice was cultured, smooth, and sultry.
Blade stiffened. “Penelope. What are you doing in Bellehaven?”
An icy chill dripped down Hazel’s spine.
“I should think it would be obvious,” the stunning woman replied. All that Kitty had said about Lady Penelope was true, from her angel-like features to her fashionable gown to her unmistakable air of sophistication.
“When I heard you’d made the trip to Bellehaven,” Penelope continued, “I decided I simply must come and witness the renowned regatta for myself. I must say, it did not disappoint.”
“I wish you had told me,” Blade said.
“And ruin the surprise? Never.” Penelope smiled a bit too widely. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your companion?”
Blade rolled his shoulders as if doing so might help him recover his manners. “Lady Penelope, this is Miss Lively, headmistress of the Bellehaven Academy of Deportment.”
Hazel winced. He could have introduced her as a friend or even an acquaintance, but he’d gone with headmistress. Telling, that.
The woman’s eyes widened. “You’re Kitty’s teacher. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Lively.”
Hazel inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine.”
“Bladenton tells me you’ve done wonders for our Kitty.”
Blade shot Penelope a pointed, slightly skeptical glance.
“Forgive me. I confess I have already begun to think of her as my daughter.” Penelope shot Hazel a conspiratorial glance. “After all, it will be official in a few months’ time—once we’re married.”
Hazel waited for Blade to deny it, but he didn’t.
As the silence stretched between them, her legs went numb below the knees.
Kitty hopped off the dais and scampered toward Blade. “Uncle Beck! Did you—” Upon spotting Penelope, she drew up short. “I hadn’t realized you were coming to Bellehaven.”
Penelope clucked her tongue and smoothed an errant lock of Kitty’s hair into place. “The important thing is that I’m here—and I was fortunate enough to witness your historic victory. Well done, my dear.”
Blade rubbed the back of his neck. “Penelope, I realize you’ve come a long way, but I cannot entertain you this afternoon. I’m attending a play at Kitty’s school.”
Penelope arched an elegant brow and narrowed her eyes at Kitty. “How intriguing. You must tell me more.”
“We’re performing scenes from Romeo and Juliet,” Kitty said, but some of her earlier jubilation had faded. “We’ve been rehearsing all week with Miss Lively.”
“Romeo and Juliet,” Penelope mused. “Your headmistress must have a romantic streak.” She turned, unleashing the full force of her gaze on Hazel.
“It’s not so much a romance as a tragedy,” she said absently. She was still wondering how Blade could move on so quickly after their night together. Still grappling with the realization that she was speaking to the woman who would soon be his … wife.
“Clearly, I am in need of a refresher on Shakespearean plays.” Penelope stared at Hazel, her face expectant.
Blast. She was fishing for an invitation, and Hazel had little choice but to extend one. “Of course, you are welcome to join us for the performance.”
Blade frowned. “I don’t think—”
“How kind of you, Miss Lively,” Lady Penelope interjected. “I should be delighted to attend.”