LONDON, ONE WEEK LATER
Blade found his sparring partner, Will, on the edge of the ballroom’s dance floor and handed him a glass of brandy. “Sorry about the eye.”
“You’re lucky you landed the punch. I was about to trounce you.” Will raised his glass in a toast and grinned in spite of the shiner that made him look more like a devil-may-care pirate than the esteemed Marquess of Goulding.
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you cracked one of my ribs,” Blade said congenially.
“That does bolster my spirits.” Will smiled wryly. “At least your face is intact. You’ll need those infernal good looks if you’ve any hope of landing a countess.” He inclined his head meaningfully in the direction of Lady Penelope, who wore a sapphire gown with a daring neckline. She’d spent most of the evening doing her level best to ignore Blade. Each time he looked her way, she tossed her blond ringlets, refusing to meet his gaze.
“Penelope’s cross with me for missing her dinner party last week.”
Will arched a brow. “Have you apologized?”
“I’ve explained.”
Will chuckled with mirth. “You’ve much to learn, my friend.”
“You’re hardly an expert.” Blade took a large gulp of brandy. “Besides, I have no intention of becoming mired in the usual lovers’ games. Jealousy, spats, guilt—they’re the equivalent of quicksand.”
“Ah, yes. The dreaded quicksand.” Will raised his eyebrows and rocked back on his heels. “Ever the romantic, aren’t you?”
Blade grunted. Perhaps he should make some effort to smooth things over with Penelope. Or at least determine if they were still of a like mind.
He threw back the rest of his drink and placed his empty glass on a passing footman’s tray. To Will, he said, “I’m going to speak with her.”
“Right. Into the jungle,” Will quipped, giving him a bracing slap on the back. “Beware of the Venus flytrap.”
Blade ignored his friend’s laughter and wove his way through the crowd, intercepting Penelope as she left the dance floor. “I wondered if we might have a word.”
She gazed at him with cool detachment, her blue eyes eerily indifferent. For a moment, he thought she’d refuse, but then she blinked and exhaled. “Meet me on the terrace in a quarter of an hour,” she said. “And this time, Bladenton, don’t keep me waiting.”
He was sitting on a stone bench on the edge of the dimly lit garden when Penelope emerged from the house, gliding across the flagstone terrace like a queen.
She settled herself on the bench beside him and smoothed her skirts. “You wished to speak with me?” she said, clearly anticipating a fine bit of groveling.
“I regret that I wasn’t able to attend your dinner party as promised,” he began. “As I’ve explained—”
Penelope held up her palm. “I know. You were detained because of an incident involving your niece. Again.”
“But now she’s settled at a new school, on the coast. I don’t anticipate any other crises will arise.”
“No.” Penelope adjusted the sparkling ruby bracelet dangling from her wrist. “You never do.”
Blade rubbed the back of his neck. “I’d thought that we understood each other, that we wanted the same things. Forgive me if I was mistaken.”
“Oh, I understand you,” Penelope said coolly. “You want a woman who will play the part of your countess and help you raise your niece. Someone to run the household, attend social events, warm your bed, and perhaps bear an heir or two. No sentimental feelings. No distasteful drama.”
Jesus, she made him sound like a stone-hearted monster. The hell of it was, she was right on the mark.
“I’ve been honest,” he said. “No one’s forcing your hand, and there are obvious advantages to the arrangement. Financial security, elevated social standing, complete independence … I thought those things were important to you.”
“Of course they are,” Penelope admitted. “But they’re not quite enough.”
Alarm bells sounded in Blade’s head. “Tender feelings are overrated.” An understatement if ever there was one. Love was combustible—a grenade that inevitably resulted in betrayal, pain, and loss. He’d be damned before he pulled that pin again.
Penelope scoffed. “I’m not speaking of tenderness or love.”
Relief washed over him. “What, then?”
“I need to know I can depend on you. Imagine how I felt when you failed to show at my dinner party after promising you’d attend. You couldn’t even be bothered to send word that you’d been detained.”
“I didn’t have time to sit down and pen a note. My niece was in trouble.”
“I believe her headmistress is paid to deal with those sorts of matters,” Penelope said with a sniff.
Blade recalled the scene in the cove—and the heart-stopping panic he’d felt when he’d first spotted Miss Lively bravely trying to rescue Kitty from being carried out to sea. “Yes, but…”
Penelope raised her gently sloped nose in the air. “I was humiliated, Bladenton.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, sincere. He’d never given a damn what others thought, but clearly, Penelope did.
“I’m not asking for poetry or romance. I don’t need a love for the ages. But I won’t be made a laughingstock by you or your niece. I need to know I can count on you.”
Blade winced. “Fair enough.”
“I’m glad we’re in agreement,” she said, her tone brisk and business-like. “But before we proceed with an engagement, I should like some assurance that you’re capable of abiding by my terms.”
“I am.”
“Then prove it.”
Blade scratched his head. “How?”
Penelope gracefully stood and paced the terrace in front of the bench. “Behave like a proper suitor for the next couple of months. Keep your wayward niece in check and refrain from embarrassing me in front of my family and friends. Take me to the theater on occasion and ask me to dance at balls. If you can manage that, we’ll announce our engagement … and marry by the fall.”
Blade stuck a finger between his cravat and neck, then swallowed. Reminded himself that Penelope was the solution to his problems. If he didn’t marry and sire an heir, his title and estate would go to his wastrel of a cousin and his reprobate son. Blade couldn’t allow that to happen—not when so many people depended on him. No, like it or not, he had to marry.
Penelope was the ideal candidate. Not only would she give him an heir, but she’d provide a role model for Kitty when she was home from school. Best of all, she wouldn’t demand that he pry the lid off his sordid past. Wouldn’t ask for anything that he couldn’t give.
“Very well,” he said sincerely. “I’ll prove I’m capable of courting you without catastrophe.”
“Courtship without catastrophe,” she repeated with a wry smile. “Good heavens. Such a lofty goal.”
Blade scoffed. She had no idea.
One week later, Blade braced himself for a distasteful scene as he walked through the door of Bellehaven Academy. He’d had no communication from Kitty. No desperate pleas to rescue her from the horrors of boarding school life: tedious lessons, snoring roommates, or fiendish teachers.
Miss Lively had been conspicuously silent also. He’d yet to receive a message from the headmistress enumerating Kitty’s offenses, which, one could safely assume, had been myriad.
The absence of information, however, gave Blade a modicum of hope. Allowed him to delude himself into thinking Kitty had turned over a new leaf. Maybe she was fitting in. Making friends. Following rules.
And maybe he’d sprout wings and fly.
“Lord Bladenton,” Miss Lively’s assistant said. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” She ushered him through the antechamber toward the headmistress’s office and knocked once before opening the door.
Miss Lively was perched on the windowsill, with one leg tucked inside the frame and the other braced on the floor. Predictably, her pert nose was stuck in a book, but she wore a secretive, dreamy smile—the sort that brought to mind slow, stolen kisses in the shade of an old oak tree. Or the sensuous caress of silk on bare skin.
She started and fumbled the book when she realized she had a visitor, then deftly caught it as she jumped to her feet.
“Good afternoon,” she said, quickly regaining her usual composure. “You’ve come to spend time with your niece.”
“Yes.” He took a seat in front of her desk. “I had little choice in the matter—as you well know.”
For several seconds, Miss Lively stared at him, impassive. Guilt for only-God-knew-what wriggled up his neck, and suddenly he was a lad again, sitting in the headmaster’s office waiting for his punishment to be meted out.
“Jane,” the headmistress said coolly, “would you please inform Kitty that her uncle has arrived for a visit?”
As the assistant scurried off, Miss Lively sank into the chair across from him, her spine as straight as an arrow, and tucked her book in the top drawer of her desk. God help him, he’d have given his left arm to know what she’d been reading—what it was that had turned her soft and wistful.
“Kitty will be glad for the diversion,” the headmistress was saying. “What do you have planned?”
His only plan was to get in and out of Bellehaven relatively unscathed—and as quickly as humanly possible. He shrugged. “I suppose we’ll go for a walk.”
Miss Lively arched a brow at that but said nothing. She kept her plump lips sealed as though she were perfectly comfortable with the unnaturally prolonged silence that ensued.
“How has Kitty”—he shifted in his seat—“how has Kitty been faring?”
The headmistress met his gaze. “You should ask her.”
“I intend to. But I’d like your perspective, too.”
“Let me see.” Miss Lively picked up a pencil and tapped the blunt end on her desk blotter. “She snuck into Mrs. Paxton’s kitchen late one night—presumably to make a tray of biscuits—and succeeded in starting a small fire.”
Blade dragged a hand down his face. “Jesus.”
“The following day, while she was confined to her room, she fashioned a knotted rope from the bedsheets and tried to convince her roommates to help her escape from an attic window.”
“Bloody hell.”
“Fortunately, my room is just below the dormitory, and I intervened before she—or either of the younger, more impressionable girls—managed to break their necks.”
He winced, apologetic. “I assume that’s just a sampling of her transgressions?”
“Oh yes,” she assured him calmly. “I’ve barely scratched the surface. But I think you have a fairly good picture of what’s been happening here.”
A potent mix of frustration, anger, and despair whirled in his chest. Made his heart pound. Kitty was doing her damnedest to get kicked out of boarding school number three. And if he couldn’t keep her antics in check, she was going to spoil more than his chances with Penelope. She was going to sabotage her own future as well.
“I’m planning to marry soon,” he said, “so that Kitty will have a mother figure to guide her.”
The lift of Miss Lively’s brow was so subtle that a casual observer would not have noticed it—but Blade did.
“Nothing is set in stone as yet,” he continued, wondering why in God’s name he was divulging such personal information. “But the woman I have in mind possesses the necessary qualifications. Indeed, I’m basing my decision solely on objective criteria. No emotions are involved on either side.”
“I see.” The headmistress’s whiskey-colored eyes looked deep into his, as though she were searching the cobwebbed corners of his soul.
Disconcerting, that—and all the more reason to focus on the matter at hand. “I’ll speak to Kitty,” he said. “But I can’t promise it will do any good. The truth is … I don’t know what else to do with her.”
The headmistress nodded, vexingly aloof, considering he’d just bared his soul and admitted his utter failure as Kitty’s guardian. “There’s one more thing I must tell you before Kitty arrives.”
He shook his head. “Spare me the full listing of her misdeeds. I’ll pay for the damages, of course. Just give me the bill.”
“This is not an issue that can be solved with money. Or a scolding.” Miss Lively folded her hands, leaned forward on her elbows, and looked into his eyes. “Kitty’s roommates tell me that she has cried herself to sleep every night since she’s arrived here.”
Blade blinked. Tried to picture it. His sharp-tongued, mischief-loving niece had been crying? Shit.
Miss Lively cleared her throat. “Ah, here she is. Good afternoon, Kitty. Isn’t this a nice surprise? Your uncle has come to visit.”
Blade forced a smile as Kitty breezed into the room, but she looked past him and addressed Miss Lively.
“Would you please inform my uncle that he’s arrived at a most inconvenient time? I’m positively drowning in schoolwork.”
“If you were, in fact, doing schoolwork, that would be a first,” the headmistress replied with aplomb. “However, as your uncle wishes to spend the afternoon with you, I shall excuse you from completing your assignments. Please, go and enjoy yourself.”
“What of my wishes?” Kitty whined. “I don’t want to spend time with Lord Bladenton.” Her mouth contorted like she’d sucked a lemon wedge. “And I don’t want to speak to him, either. The earl and I have absolutely nothing to say to each other. You referred to him as my uncle, and I cannot deny that he is—by blood. But that does not mean we’re family.”
Her words hit Blade like a dart between the shoulder blades. He opened his mouth to fire back but remembered what Miss Lively had said about Kitty crying herself to sleep.
So he counted to three in his head before facing his niece again. “I realize I’m not your favorite person. But I’ve driven my curricle all the way from London. Since I’m here, you may as well show me some of the shops in town. I could buy you some ribbons or even a new bonnet if you’d like.”
Kitty crossed her arms and lifted her nose, refusing to look at him. “Miss Lively, would you please inform the earl that I cannot be bribed with gifts?”
Blade threw up his arms. “Fine. No gifts then. Why don’t you tell me what you’d like to do?”
“Miss Lively, would you please tell the earl that I’d sooner pluck out my eyelashes one by one than spend the afternoon with him?”
“Kitty,” the headmistress said evenly, “I had thought you far too mature for these sorts of antics.”
“And yet you have relegated me to sharing a dormitory with a couple of silly girls who still play with dolls and wear their hair in pigtails.” Kitty scoffed. “This isn’t a proper finishing school so much as it is a charity home for outcasts.”
Miss Lively’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and the intensity of her stare made Kitty, who was not particularly inclined to shame, shuffle her feet.
Blade held his breath. If he was honest with himself, he was relieved that, for once, Kitty had directed her barbs at someone other than him. It seemed she couldn’t help but push people away, and this time, she might have pushed Miss Lively too far.
The headmistress rose slowly, walked to one side of the desk, and sat on the edge. “I understand that you’re angry with your uncle for enrolling you here. And that you don’t want to visit with him. But on occasion, we all must do things that we would rather not. It’s part of being an adult.”
“So I’m to have all of the burdens of being an adult without any of the perks?” Kitty pretended to examine a fingernail. “No, thank you.”
Blade swallowed. “Maybe I should go,” he said. “And come back another time.”
The headmistress shot him a pointed look. “No.” Turning to Kitty, she said, “I’ll make a deal with you. If you agree to spend the afternoon with your uncle, I’ll excuse you from dining room duty for the entire week.”
Kitty gaped. “Truly?”
Miss Lively nodded. “Right. That’s my final offer.”
“You have a deal,” Kitty said firmly.
“Excellent.” Miss Lively exhaled. She swept her arm toward the door in a vaguely dismissive gesture. Clearly, she couldn’t wait to have her office to herself again. “Enjoy your afternoon.”
“I’ll go with Lord Bladenton,” Kitty intoned. “But you can’t make me speak to him.”
Blade’s panic spiked again. What the devil was he supposed to do with his niece for the next three hours? “Miss Lively,” he said. “Might I have a word before we go?”
The headmistress gazed longingly at the drawer where she’d stowed her book. “Of course.” To Kitty, she said, “Please wait in the antechamber. Your uncle will join you shortly.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, Blade stood and faced Miss Lively. Prepared to beg. “I realize this is a highly unusual request,” he said, earnestly, “but you have to come with us.”