Kat stood silent and still, patiently observing Lord Darrow’s ballroom from the empty alcove above. With her body mostly hidden behind the red velvet drapes that were pulled partially closed across the balcony railing, Kat had a perfect view of the multitude of guests milling about below, all of them none the wiser they were under close observation from above as they danced and gossiped.
It often surprised her how people could be so blissfully ignorant to their surroundings and the possible dangers around them, oblivious to anything but their socializing. Perhaps ignorance was bliss, though Kat could rarely tolerate ignorance, which made coming to these social events so tedious. Probably why she rarely did.
However, there was often a viable source of information amongst all the gossip, and Kat’s position in Society got her into places many of her informants couldn’t go. It was the only reason she accepted Darrow’s invitation, alongside the fact Etta had implored her to attend, too, as her father was forcing her to go as part of his campaign to find her a husband with a title. An effort proving fruitless so far, thanks in part to Etta’s resistance.
The smell of lavender wafted along her senses just as the muted sound of wood thumping softly against the carpet reached her ears. Kat didn’t bother turning around. “Good evening, Duchess.”
“Hmph,” the lady harrumphed as she came to stand beside Kat at the balcony, her cane tapping impatiently against the floor. “One can never catch you unaware, Lady Kaitlyn.” The woman didn’t sound happy with the observation. “I see you’re spying on everyone below as you often do at these events.”
Kat glanced over to the woman known as the Dragon Duchess, who was also Livie’s godmother, and a woman Kat had an odd sort of acquaintance with.
After all, Kat seemed to be the only lady in Society unafraid of the duchess, and likewise the duchess seemed to be the only lady who wasn’t afraid of Kat. A mutual respect had been born from that fact—and a mutual rivalry over who could verbally best the other.
It was a pastime at these events that Kat suspected both of them looked forward to.
“Did I get to your spying spot first?” Kat replied with an arch of her eyebrow. The duchess loved nothing more than knowing everything about everyone in Society, even though she’d deny such a thing to her last breath.
“Impertinent gal!” She frowned at Kat. “But, yes, you did. Anything of interest I missed?” Her eyes left Kat’s to glance down at the crowd.
“Nothing as of yet,” Kat replied as her gaze also swept down again over the crowd. She spied Etta below talking with Lady Marlborough, who was a regular fountain of gossip and unwittingly gave them many leads to chase up for the Gazette, but there was still no sign of Westwood. Darn the man. He was meant to be here, and she was getting impatient waiting for him.
“Who is it you’re hoping to spot?” The duchess swiveled her altogether too perceptive eyes back to Kat. “A man, I’m guessing, which is most unlike you.”
Kat, thankfully, had been well-schooled in keeping her expression carefully blank, even though she inwardly resented that the woman had guessed the truth all too easily. “Why would you say that?”
The duchess raised an imperious dark brow, her wrinkles crinkling up with the action. “There’s anticipation in your eyes that isn’t usually present. And you’ve clearly spent time choosing a dress to complement you. The only time a woman does that is when she wishes to impress a man.”
Kat’s already foul mood darkened with the observation, for she had in fact spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to decide what to wear, something she never worried over. Her maid had impeccable taste after all, but the emerald gown Bess selected for her hadn’t seemed right.
In the end, Kat settled on her new sapphire satin gown with sparkling crystals woven along the bodice that was one of Madam Arnout’s most stunning creations yet, employing the special metal studs on Kat’s specialty garments, sent over by her German dressmaker friend.
The gown consisted of two separate pieces: a skirt and bodice top. The skirt had the studs sewn along the inside seam and waist, which allowed it to be detached from the top bodice and opened in seconds if Kat required her legs to be free. The bustle wires that shaped the garment had also been sewn directly into the material of the skirt itself, so for all outside appearances she was wearing a bustle, though smaller than was the current fashion, but still shaped as expected, with the hidden benefit of detaching simultaneously with her skirt.
“It’s a Madame Arnout creation, isn’t it?” the duchess said, sweeping her gaze down the dress and back up again. “She does wonderful work, though I have wondered on occasion if instead of a gown you may one day turn up to one of these things wearing trousers and a tailored jacket, as has become the deplorable fashion choice some women are choosing.”
“You flatter me, Your Grace.” Kat smiled at her. What the duchess said was true, some women were indeed daring to wear such clothes. They were in the minority, of course, but still daring. If it weren’t for Daisy or Samuel, Kat would have rather liked to join them for the convenience of the trousers rather than the actual look. “I’ve heard some women are even wearing bowlers, top hats, and cravats.” Much to Daisy’s horror.
“Good gracious, what is this world coming to?” The duchess tittered.
At that moment, in strode Marcus. He stopped inside the doorway of the ballroom as his name was called aloud, heralding his entrance.
Kat’s entire body clenched, and her breath caught, her eyes unable to do anything apart from drink in the sight of him. He was resplendent in a black evening suit with tails, and a crisp, snowy white shirt with a matching bow tie. She rarely ever bestowed the term “dashing” to any gentleman, but Marcus was the epitome of the word, a prime specimen of a man, all but demanding a woman’s attention. And Kat was powerless to do anything but stare down at him.
It seemed several other women felt the same as they clamored around him, vying for his attention. Jealousy wasn’t an emotion she was used to, but unaccountably the feeling began to crawl up her throat, grating against it like sandpaper. Shaking her head, Kat had to control her wayward emotions. She had no right to be jealous because she had no claim to him, nor would she ever.
An involuntary gasp left her lips as Marcus’s gaze swiveled upward and caught hers. Even with the distance between them she felt the intensity in his stare, but she couldn’t look away. There was both heat and fury in his gaze, and she knew then and there that he was aware that she was behind his naming in the Gazette, and he was coldly furious about it.
Hopefully, once she explained her reasoning for listing him, he’d understand why it was necessary. Not that she should worry about Marcus and what he thought of her, especially when she rarely worried about other people’s opinions. If she did, she’d be too fearful to do anything in the rigidly structured social world she was meant to belong to.
Raising her chin a notch higher, she refused to look away. For a full minute, they remained still, locked in a silent battle of wills spanning the length of the ballroom, until the Marquis of Cantfield walked in behind Marcus and said something to him. When Marcus’s gaze swung to Cantfield, Kat spun around.
“He is rather dashing, isn’t he?”
She’d forgotten the duchess was there. Lovely.
“Though slightly tainted now he has been named in the Gazette,” the lady continued, her eyes assessing Kat thoroughly.
“Oh, there you are,” Etta stated, coming up the back stairs into the alcove and stopping short upon seeing the duchess standing next to Kat. “Oh, excuse me, Your Grace, I didn’t realize you were up here, too…”
Etta was rather terrified of the lady. All of the women were. The Duchess of Calder could literally make or break a lady’s reputation with the snap of her fingers, such was her power and authority in the upper echelons of Society.
“What a marvelous observation, Miss Merriweather,” the duchess intoned. “Now, if you will both excuse me, there’ll be much discussion below that I have no intention of missing out on. Oh, and that reminds me, I believe I am to play chaperone to you both next week for the theater.”
“Yes, Livie mentioned it.” Kat had nearly forgotten Livie’s irrational worry that her godmother would be lonely in town once Livie and Sebastian left for the country. Perhaps pregnancy was wreaking havoc on Livie’s normally sensible nature, because the thought of the Dragon Duchess lonely was rather laughable. The lady took far too much enjoyment in ensuring everyone in Society lived in fear of occasioning her wrath. It was fun to watch, actually.
“Hhmph, the things I do for my goddaughter…” the duchess said. “Having to put up with the two of you.”
“The feeling is mutual, Your Grace,” Kat said with a smile.
Beside her, Etta gasped softly and the duchess arched an eyebrow, as she was so fond of doing.
“You’re entirely outspoken, Lady Kaitlyn.” The duchess assessed her for a moment. “I like it. Perhaps the theater shan’t be entirely boring.” She inclined her head at them before marching briskly from the space and down the stairs, her cane tapping along next to her much like a brigadier general with a sword.
“That woman terrifies me,” Etta blurted out once the duchess was out of earshot. “In any event, you’ll never guess who has arrived.”
“Westwood.”
Etta’s face pinched with consternation. “Does nothing ever surprise you?”
She smiled at her friend. “My own reactions of late have been a great surprise, actually.”
“I hope you’re prepared to deal with him, as I’ve never seen the man look so determined,” Etta said. “Do you think he knows?”
“He definitely knows,” Kat replied. The look he’d given her was crystal clear. He was furious with her, there was no skirting around that fact. “And I think it will be best to face him sooner rather than later. So, come along. Time to confront the bear.” She wound her arm through the crook of her friend’s elbow and they headed down the stairs. “Though I suspect it will be best to be surrounded by an audience when Westwood seeks me out, for I fear he’s rather upset with me at the moment.”
“How correct you are, my lady,” the man himself voiced from the foot of the stairs. “But you’re too late to seek the safety of the ballroom audience for our conversation.”
…
Marcus watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Lady Kaitlyn’s face as she caught sight of him standing at the base of the stairway with Cantfield beside him, tagging along for his introduction. Surprise, shock, and anticipation flashed briefly in those fierce-green eyes of hers, before she deftly masked them and took the final step down from the stairs with her friend, coming to stand defiantly before him.
If he hadn’t been paying such close attention, he would’ve missed the play of emotions dart across her gaze altogether. She was excellent at concealing her thoughts.
“Lord Westwood.” She gave him a fleeting curtsy. “How good to see you again. I do hope you’re well recovered from last night.”
Beside him, Cantfield smothered a laugh while Marcus raised a brow. It didn’t seem the ballroom setting deterred the lady from speaking her mind. “I’m quite recovered, my lady, and your concern for my welfare is touching.”
“I did warn you that dancing with me could prove perilous.” She shrugged lightly, the glow from the wall lights shining upon the crystal beads of her bodice and drawing Marcus’s eyes to the soft swell of her cleavage pressing against the neckline of the gown. Dressed as she was, he certainly wouldn’t mistake her for a man.
“So you did,” Marcus replied, unable to help the corner of his mouth from twitching up at her impudence. He’d never met a woman so bold, and try as he might, he couldn’t maintain his fury at her audacity for listing him in her Gazette. Her forthright manner, bordering on sassiness, was a surprising breath of fresh air amongst all of the falsities clinging to the other women in the room like second skins. “And you were correct, it was perilous. You need dancing lessons.”
Lady Kaitlyn’s eyes narrowed with indignation. He couldn’t resist giving her a wink, and nearly laughed aloud when an expression of pure outrage crossed her face.
The sound of a throat clearing beside him abruptly reminded Marcus that he and Lady Kaitlyn were not alone, even though for a moment it had felt that way. How could he have forgotten Lucas, who was determined to be properly introduced to the lady before the night was through? The thought of introducing them caused an uncomfortable knot to lodge in his chest. There wasn’t a woman he knew who didn’t succumb to Cantfield’s charm. “Lady Kaitlyn, let me introduce you to Lucas Devereux, the Marquis of Cantfield. Cantfield, this is Lady Kaitlyn.”
Cantfield picked up Kaitlyn’s gloved hand and bent down over her knuckles, brushing his lips against the material of her glove. Marcus clenched his jaw.
“It’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Lady Kaitlyn.” Cantfield’s smiled oozed charm as he straightened up, an inch shy of Marcus’s frame. It was a smile Cantfield often deployed on the ladies, which always evoked either a soft sigh or a smile from the recipient. “I don’t know if you remember me from when your uncle trained me years ago?”
“Actually, I do.” She plucked her hand from Cantfield’s and regarded the man steadily.
A big grin danced over Cantfield’s face at her words and Marcus felt unaccountably annoyed that she remembered him.
“You were the one always looking at yourself in the mirror in Victor’s training room,” she continued, “always discussing your latest conquests with whomever you were sparring with.”
The young woman beside her laughed, quickly covering it up with a hand over her mouth.
“Yes, I suppose that was me… I was somewhat vain in my younger years.” Mortification flooded his face. “I didn’t know you were in the training room to hear all of that. I never would’ve spoken of such topics if I had known…”
“I wouldn’t have been good at spying on the training when I was a young girl if you knew I was there, now would I?”
Cantfield didn’t seem to know what to say. “Um… No, I don’t suppose so…”
Marcus couldn’t help but grin at Cantfield’s bewilderment. It wasn’t often that a lady not only rebuffed Cantfield, the future Duke of Carlisle, but also befuddled him. Well, until the Ice Maiden, it seemed—a woman with high standards and quick wit. He liked her all the more for it.
“Hopefully, you don’t get as distracted by your own reflection nowadays.” Kaitlyn’s eyes flicked back to Marcus, essentially dismissing the Marquis within a few seconds of being introduced to him. “As we’re doing introductions, let me present to you both my friend, Miss Henrietta Merriweather, whose father is Mr. Henry Merriweather. Etta, this is Lord Westwood and Lord Cantfield.”
Miss Merriweather curtsied, her chocolate brown eyes darting between Marcus and Cantfield, seemingly not knowing who to settle upon. “Very nice to meet you, my lords.”
Both Marcus and Cantfield bowed to the girl before taking it in turns to chastely kiss her gloved hand, Marcus first, followed by Cantfield, whose usual charm seemed to be working, at least with Miss Merriweather, who started to blush heartily when Cantfield raised his head.
The ladies were complete opposites. Kat was tall and athletic in shape, whereas Miss Merriweather was of average height, and slightly voluptuous of figure, with chestnut brown hair compared to Kat’s deep auburn. And Marcus could never imagine Kat blushing from a man kissing her knuckles as Miss Merriweather had. Though for a mad moment he wondered if she’d blush if it was somewhere else she was being kissed by Marcus…
Instantly, his body tightened as the image of her naked in his bed flooded his imagination. Thoughts of kissing her everywhere filled him and he had to blink hard to bring his surroundings back into focus and pay attention to whatever it was Miss Merriweather was talking about. Something to do with the weather.
“Cantfield was just telling me he wishes to dance,” Marcus announced. “Would you do him the honor, Miss Merriweather?”
Canfield rounded his eyes upon him, but clearly understood Marcus’s need to speak with Kat in private.
“Of course,” Miss Merriweather said, taking Cantfield’s outstretched hand, who then led her back to the ballroom.
Alone at last, though the hallway was still too public for the verbal battle Marcus suspected he was about to have with Lady Kaitlyn. He swiveled his eyes to hers, and they clashed. The most overwhelming urge to drag her into the nearest room and kiss her senseless to see if she was as passionate at kissing as she was fighting came over him. But he resisted the impulse. Just.
“I’m glad you found me.” Kat’s voice was a welcome distraction, except that it drew his attention to her lips, damn it.
What the devil was wrong with him? He never reacted to a woman like this, not to the point of nearly losing control. Ignoring his wayward thoughts, he returned to the matter at hand. The whole point for his attending. “Surely, you knew I’d hunt you down.”
“Hunting me down would suggest I’m prey,” Kat replied. “And I can assure you, I am anything but.”
“Apex predators hunt other predators, my lady.” He took a small step closer to her, but she didn’t budge an inch. “Particularly when you’ve all but invited or perhaps challenged me to do so.”
“And how have I done that?” Her green eyes radiated innocence.
“Come, my lady. I thought you more forthright than that.” Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out the offending flyer that had made its way into the hands of most Londoners by late this evening. “Apart from stealing the journal—”
“Borrowing—”
“It seems you had a hand in my sudden rise to fame, or infamy as most would suggest…” He pressed the flyer into her hands. “I know you’re behind this.”
Kat glanced down at the paper before returning his stare. “I was confident you’d put two and two together, though I imagine Sir William assisted.”
She knew of his relationship with Sir William, did she? The woman was well informed. “He confirmed my suspicions.”
“Clearly, we need to talk.”
The woman was the queen of understatement. “We need to do a lot more than talk. You need to start explaining yourself before I cart you out of here over my shoulder in front of everyone. At least then I will have earned a reputation worthy of being torn apart by your little gazette.”
“You could try, though I don’t like your chances.”
“Darling, I can do a lot more than try.” He squared his shoulders.
Kaitlyn merely shrugged, obviously certain he wouldn’t do such a thing.
Tempted though he was, he wouldn’t, as doing so would mean a quick trip down the aisle to redeem both their reputations. And marriage was not an institution he ever intended to partake in again. “Are you not concerned that now I’ve learned of your little secret, about being one of the owners of the Gazette, that I might use it against you?”
“Not at all,” her velvet voice drawled. “I expected you to discover it was me behind the move. And if you hadn’t been able to do that, you would have been of little use to me.”
“I live to be of use to you, my lady.” He mockingly bowed before her.
“You will be of great use soon, I can guarantee it,” came her pert reply. “And, no, I’m not concerned you will reveal my secret. We have too much at stake to be playing games of tit for tat.”
She was right. Marcus sighed. “Then do you mind telling me why the devil you had a special flyer printed listing me as one of the bachelors to be critiqued? I can see no useful purpose in doing so, apart from incurring my wrath.”
“I always do things on purpose, my lord, and you can be assured that is certainly the case in this instance.” Kat squared her shoulders. “I need your help.”
Marcus couldn’t stop the laugh of incredulity from leaving his lips. “You need my help?” Was the woman serious? “Let me see if I understand you correctly. First, you knee me in the bollocks. Second, you steal Elizabeth’s journal from me. Third, you have me listed as one of the next bachelors to be critiqued in your gazette, which leads to my reputation being damaged in the short space of only a few hours. And after all of that, you’re asking for my help? You have an odd notion of how to go about asking for someone’s help.”
“Perhaps.” She lifted her chin, her eyes never leaving his. “Though I disagree somewhat about your reputation. It’s only slightly sullied and will be redeemed when I publish a retraction about you being critiqued, after you help me.”
“After I help you? Are you blackmailing me?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head vehemently. “I’m recruiting you.”