The entire affair had been decidedly odd, for he had escorted her home with little conversation beyond the polite pleasantries. Kitty found that she wanted to ask him about his experience after being away from such entertainments for so long. When she had asked the duke if he wished to attend the museum before departing for Scotland, his response had been an unreadable “no.”
With a sigh, she peered out of the carriage, mightily tired of being enclosed. The duke had elected to ride on a massive stallion ahead of her equipage. At times when she drew back the curtains and peeked out, she would see him cantering ahead. Other times, he traveled in the second carriage rambling behind her coach.
Kitty found it curious he did not wish to be enclosed with her. It was almost as if he avoided her presence. Even at the two inns they stayed overnight, she’d dined and broken her fast alone. He’d ensure the best rooms at the inns were assigned to her, and a stout and friendly widow had traveled as her chaperone. That lady, a Mrs. Williams, rode in the second coach with a few other servants, their luggage, and sometimes the duke.
The man kept a very careful distance, though she was grateful for the space. Every day she thought about their encounter in the garden at Lady Carnforth’s ball, wishing she had not stayed, other times wishing she’d been brave enough to press her lips to his. As if controlled by another, her fingers fluttered to her lips. It infuriated her that his kiss the night they met, though quite chaste, haunted her, when Thornton probably did not spare her a thought beyond how to use her for his amusement.
She was not some foolish girl who dreamed of love, was she? Surely she was more practical than that. Then why do I think about the dratted man so often?
Glancing through the carriage windows, she observed him ahead on his stallion. The duke was shouting something at the coachman and pointing upward. Kitty peered above the tree lines in the distance. The skies had darkened, and it appeared that rain would be imminent.
She had heard Scotland was frightfully wet, even in the summer months.
The carriage lurched ahead, the pace increasing considerably. With a sigh, she lowered the curtains and leaned back against the well-padded squabs. It was impossible to envision what their week or two would be like at his home. Would he ignore her there, too? Would dinner be as silent as the theater? Would her presence be a mere ornament? Or worse, what if he demanded she stay longer? That she would refuse and would bargain fiercely for another outcome.
With another huff, she reached for the small valise underneath the seat, opened it, and withdrew a book—Castle of Wolfenbach. Opening the pages, she resumed her read from where she’d stopped, burying the anxiety filling her heart. She needn’t fret about that brief kiss, or how intimate their encounter had been in the garden, or the duke’s aloofness now. The duke had no intention of marrying—she would not follow Ophelia’s or Mamma’s advice and hope that this outrageous stay at his castle might turn into something more.
Kitty’s mission was clear and simple. Be his friend, whatever that entailed. Ensure that he did not call off the engagement before the necessary time. Not kissing friends. And just maybe she would survive the experience, and all would be well with her family and sisters.
That was all she should care about. And so she would.
…
Alexander rode ahead, urging the horses to keep a brisk pace. The wind had risen, scuttling dark clouds across the sun. It felt as if he raced against the doubts filling him. He wasn’t a man prone to indecisive thoughts, yet the closer they were to his castle, the more he was certain he had made a blasted mistake. To take a young lady from her home and into the wild moors of Scotland was truly foo
lhardy. And without a proper chaperone.
If a hint of this escapade was revealed to society, surely her reputation could never recover. One moment’s indiscretion could unleash a scandal. And he did not want that for her. That daring spirit should be gently encouraged to bloom vividly, not crushed and misunderstood.
He’d spent a good part of his journey home thinking about the gamble she had taken for the sake of her family and what it said about the lady herself. Miss Danvers was courageous, loyal, witty, and a woman with unusual humor and tenacity. And kind…even at the cost of her reputation.
In other words, a woman unlike any he’d ever known.
He pulled on the reins of the massive stallion, forcing it to halt. The carriages rumbled closer, the beat of the horses’ hooves almost a taunt to his earlier ruthless confidence. Alexander scowled at the black sky. A storm such as this in May.
Perhaps it was an omen.
A fat drop of rain splashed on his cheek and he cursed. They were at least an hour’s ride from home, but the roads tended to become mud-logged during and after a deluge. And this promised to be quite a squall. The trees were bending under the force of the wind. His top hat tugged from his head and soared away before he could react.
Stifling another curse, he urged the horses ahead. Despite the biting cold penetrating his jacket, he would not ride inside the carriage with Miss Danvers. The second coach within which he traveled sometimes had already gone ahead hours ago and should be at the castle already. He’d ordered his wheeled chair and canes to be put away in defiance of his manservant’s protest. Alexander had determined, despite the twinges of pain in his back and lower extremities, he would return home under his own steam.
After a few more minutes of traveling, the rain sleeted down, and with a curse, he bid the coachman to stop the carriage. He carefully dismounted, ignoring the shock of pain that traveled up his back. After a few bracing breaths and ruthlessly beating back the fiery swarm of pain, he took the first steps toward the equipage. “Hitch Hercules behind the coach. The rain is too fierce to continue that way. I will ride with Miss Danvers for the rest of the journey.”
His coachman, George, a spry man despite his advanced age, moved with alacrity to do Alexander’s command. The man had the audacity to smile slyly and wink. The impudence. He should fire him as he’d threatened to do these last ten years.
George had been hinting throughout the journey that he should keep the ravishing Miss Danvers’s company. He’d fallen silent this morning only when Alexander had promised to remove his tongue from his head. Though he’d said it with a modicum of affection, it seemed George had believed his irritable vow.
The steps to the carriage were knocked down, and Alexander clambered up and into the warm confines of the carriage. Miss Danvers’s lips parted on a silent gasp and she lowered the book she read.
“Your Grace…” She glanced out the small window into the rain.
“Miss Danvers. I hope you will permit me the pleasure of your company for the rest of the journey.”
She smiled, and his heart ached. How in God’s name did she do that…with only a damn smile?
“I see you were forced to join me.”
He grunted, and her grin widened. Her boldness knew no bounds, and he had yet to decide if he liked it. Except for his sister, he was quite used to ladies operating within the confines society and their family placed them in, and he had no notion of what to make of Katherine Danvers.