Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage

CHAPTER 33

James slapped his open palm on the table next to him. The table bounced. Annie winced.

James’s face was a blank mask. “Where is she?” he said in a flat voice.

Lily folded her hands serenely in her lap and returned his stare. “I intend to tell you, of course, but first, we must—”

“Where is she?” This time it was a thunderous command.

Colton sat forward in his chair. “Medford?” His voice held a note of warning.

“I merely want to speak with her.” James’s voice was tight.

Annie had snapped her book shut and slid forward on the sofa. “She took a nap earlier, but I think she went into the music room after that.”

Lily gave her sister a condemning glare.

James nodded his thanks to Annie, stood, and stalked out of the library.

The music room was on the first floor at the end of a long hallway. James made his way toward it, each step making him more sure that he didn’t know what he would say once he saw her. But Kate was here. Kate. Surely he’d think of something—the right thing—when he came face to face with her.

He stopped several paces from the door. The strains of “Moonlight Sonata” floated out of the room. She was playing the pianoforte again. She loved that piece.

Taking a deep breath, James opened the door without knocking. He stepped inside the darkened room. The music stopped. Only a single candelabra burned on top of the instrument.

Kate glanced up at him, her blue eyes wide.

“James.”

He let out his pent-up breath. He’d thought it might be a dream, her being here, some cruel joke Lily had played on him. But there Kate was, sitting on the piano stool, across from the French doors, wearing a ruby-red gown that made him swallow. She looked like a dream come to life. He squinted. The firelight bounced off her silken hair. He longed to run his fingers through it.

“Kate,” he breathed.

She shook her head a bit and the red-gold curls on the top of her head bounced. “Lily and Annie told you I was here?”

“Yes.” Affecting a nonchalance he didn’t feel, James pushed his hands into his pockets and made his way over to the pianoforte.

Kate stood, pushing out the stool with the backs of her knees. She wrung her hands. She stepped toward him, slowly. They were only a pace apart. He could smell her perfume. The hint of strawberries. His mouth watered.

“James, are you … angry?”

He furrowed his brow. “Angry? Why would I be angry?”

“That I’m here. These are your friends, and I’m intruding.” She glanced away. “I don’t belong here.”

He had to struggle to keep his hands in his pockets. He wanted to reach out and … touch her, pull her into his arms.

“No, Kate. I’m not angry with you. I’m glad you’re here.”

She tentatively raised her gaze to his. It was pitch-black outside but the candlelight illuminated a bit of the outdoors. The snow still fell in fluffy heaps beyond the windows.

“You’re glad?” she breathed.

“I wanted to visit you, Kate. I wanted to tell you how happy I was that you were freed.”

She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry I returned the money. But I just couldn’t take it. Not after … your house.”

“That money belongs to you.”

“I don’t care about the money.” She closed her eyes briefly. “James, may I ask you a question?”

He smiled at that. “You know you can.”

“Why haven’t you published the pamphlet yet?”

He shook his head. “Let’s not talk about the pamphlet, Kate. The pamphlet doesn’t matter.”

Her brow furrowed. She reached out a hand as if in supplication. “But … why? I’d expect it would be more popular than ever now that my name is cleared. It would sell wonderfully, pay for the repairs to your house, the money you spent for Mr. Abernathy, Mr. Horton.”

“Damn it, Kate, that’s not why … It was never about the money,” James ground out.

Kate let her hand drop to her side. “I don’t understand.”

James paced away, toward the French doors. “Publishing for me has been a drive. A need. My father was always so blasted frightened of any hint of scandal. But now … I don’t care about it anymore. You were right. I should use the press for good. Expose the real truth about things going on, the wrongly accused, the poor.”

She closed her eyes briefly. “James, don’t do that just because of me.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but she put up a hand to stop him. “Wait, first, I must thank you. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have had a defense. Wouldn’t have hired Mr. Abernathy. Wouldn’t have had a runner investigating my case. I wouldn’t be free right now.” She paused, looking down at her feet. “I owe you my life.”

His voice was savage. “You owe me nothing, Kate.”

She walked past him, trembling, and his fingers ached to reach out and stroke her cheek. “You didn’t let me finish. I owe you my life, and I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, but I’m leaving. I’m going to the Continent. The angry mobs may have dispersed but my reputation is still in shreds here. I will not be welcome in Society. There’s nothing I can do about it. I must leave. But I’ll always be thankful to you.” She turned back to face him, pushing up her chin.

James scrubbed his hand through his hair. He cursed violently under his breath. “I can make this right, Kate. I can fix your reputation—”

She whipped her head around to face him, her curls falling enchantingly over one shoulder. “No you can’t, James. You know that. Even you can’t fix this.”

He clenched his jaw and met her eyes. “How do you intend to live on the Continent?”

“I have my dower money. I can make a life.”

“The money from the pamphlet is still yours, Kate. You should take it.”

Her jaw tightened and anger flashed in her eyes. She turned on her heel, ran over to the double doors, and pushed them open. A blast of cold air shot through the room, and she ran out, into the black, freezing night, into the snowflakes.

James followed her, stalking out into the snow behind her. “What do you think you are doing?”

She turned on him, her eyes flashing blue fire. The snowflakes floated down her alabaster cheeks. She turned in a circle, around and around, her gown looking blood-red against the white ground. She breathed in the cold air. Her breath came in short puffs. Then she took two very deep breaths and exhaled slowly. “I’m feeling, James. Feeling. Feeling this air. Feeling the snow. I never knew if I’d feel this again.”

“What does that have to do with the money, going to the Continent?”

She turned on him, eyes still flashing. “I don’t want your money, James. I never wanted it.”

James stopped himself from reaching for her. Instead, he clenched his fists at his sides. “What do you want, then? Say the word. I have friends. I have money. We can make the blasted ton accept you again.”

She advanced on him, pointing a finger at his chest, and he retreated, slowly, shuffling backward through the snow, the cold wetness seeping through the legs of his breeches.

“You’re always trying to fix everything,” she said. “Always trying to make things right. That’s why you hired a runner for me, and that’s why you’re doing this now. But my reputation is another thing altogether. Even with my name cleared I’ve been involved in a scandal I will never live down. Even if George hadn’t been murdered, everyone knows I wanted a divorce. None of that has changed. God, James, don’t you know by now that not everything can be fixed?”

James closed his eyes. He was helpless. Helpless. The one thing he wanted to fix more than all the others was standing here in the snow looking more beautiful than he’d ever seen her, and telling him he was a failure.

“I can fix this,” he growled through clenched teeth. “I’ll publish whatever you want me to, use the printing press to save your reputation. You’re a duchess—”

She whirled on him, her scarlet gown flaring around her ankles, pooling against the pure snow. The flakes that still clung to her impossibly long lashes were illuminated like sparking diamonds by the candlelight that filtered from the windows of the house. “No!” she cried. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want to be a duchess.”

James dug his fingers into his fists. “What is it you want, Kate? Tell me. I’ll make it happen. I swear it.”

She bowed her head. “No. No.”

He took two steps forward and grabbed her shoulders. They were close enough for the little puffs of her warm breath to evaporate against his shirtfront. “Tell me,” he demanded.

She looked up at him, trembling. Her eyes locked with his. “I want to spend the night with you.”