Foolish. And ridiculous. And not even true. But still, she told it to herself like a secret no one else could know. He is mine again. For this day at least. He’s mine.
She drew her chemise over her head and then simply sat there. She didn’t move. She couldn’t. She listened to the thump from her parlor as he tugged his boots on, then the rustle of fabric as he donned his coat. A short while later, he stepped back into the bedroom and even the black silk of his cravat was respectably arranged.
He smiled at her, running a hand through his mussed hair.
“You look no different,” she said, marveling at that. She felt like a different person altogether.
“Then you’ve the eyes of a fool, Kate,” he said quietly.
Her heart stopped. And when she looked again, he was right. She saw sorrow and joy in his eyes, mixed together and turning into the depths of him. She saw his soul unshuttered, and she wondered if he could see the same in her.
“Will you come again tonight?”
“More foolishness,” he said, tempering the words with a smile. “I planned to wander the alley like a ghost if you didn’t invite me in.”
“Ah,” she said, “wailing and gnashing your teeth?”
“Yes, and rending my garments just in case you unbarred the door.” He kissed the laughter from her lips and offered a gallant bow. “I’ll show myself out the back door, shall I?”
“You make it sound so sordid.”
His smile slipped away. “No,” he said quietly. “Never that. Not with you.”
She listened closely to the slow clomp
of his boots on the steps and caught the strain of a cheerfully whistled tune as the door opened and closed. She should be worried that he’d be seen. She should feel guilty for what they’d done.
But she couldn’t summon up even a glimmer of regret.
Chapter 15
What had seemed so simple in the morning grew into a mass of tangled anxieties in the afternoon.
First, Gulliver Wilson had arrived on a gust of cold, damp air. She’d unlocked the door three hours before and this was only the second time it had opened. The first visitor had been a kitchen boy sent out into the icy streets to pick up an order. A slow day, indeed.
Kate tried her best to smile. Would this day never end? “Mr. Wilson.”
“Mrs. Hamilton,” he intoned arrogantly. “I wish to speak to you on a serious matter.”
To speak to me, she noted derisively, not with me. She kept her mouth closed to avoid saying something she’d regret.
“It has come to my attention that you’ve been entertaining a certain strange gentleman without any sort of chaperone and with no care for your reputation.”
Kate’s face flushed with anger and worry. Had he seen Aidan sneaking from her home? “What do you mean?” she made herself ask calmly.
His whiskers quivered when he cleared his throat. “I saw a strange gentleman return you from a walk yesterday evening, madam.”
Thank God. Her worry burned away and set her anger free. “I can assure you, sir, that who I speak with on the street is absolutely none of your business.”
“Of course it is my business!”
An outraged laugh slipped from her throat. “How so?”
“I am a respected member of this community and I cannot countenance this type of behavior. I’ll not be able to offer you the prestige of my friendship if you continue to behave like a . . . a . . .”
“A what, sir?”
“A harlot!”