"I think Bill works far too hard," Frannie said after a while.

"Who among us doesn't?" he asked.

"I suppose you're right. I rather like Catherine."

"You made it difficult for her tonight."

"I think we all did, but I just really wasn't in the mood for a formal dinner. I'll do it properly when it matters, Luke."

"I know you will. It seemed tedious to me as well. I doubt we'll entertain often."

She lifted the curtain, glanced out. "Jim was telling me about the Great Exhibition. He was rather impressed with it."

"Would you like to go?"

She dropped the curtain back into place. "I would, yes."

"Will tomorrow serve?"

She smiled softly. "Tomorrow will serve very well."

"Splendid."

Once they arrived at Dodger's, he escorted Frannie to her rooms. Then he walked down the stairs and through the back door that led into Dodger's. He walked down the hallway to the room where he knew he'd find Jack. A footman with meaty fists nodded at Luke and opened the door. Luke knew he was more guard than servant. His presence signaled that Jack was counting his money.

That's exactly what he was doing when Luke walked into the room. Jack looked up from his neat stacks of coins and paper currency. "How was your fancy dinner?"

"Tedious and not so fancy."

Jack reached back for a gla.s.s, poured whiskey into it, and pushed it to the edge of the desk. Luke sat in the chair, grabbed the gla.s.s, downed its contents, and put the gla.s.s back. Jack immediately refilled it. Luke a.s.sumed his face revealed that he was a man in need of a drink or two.

"What's troubling you?" Jack asked.

He was the only person Luke knew who was better at reading people than Luke was. "Have you ever loved anyone?"

"You mean besides my mum?"

Luke was dumbfounded as he stared at Jack. He knew his friend's story. "She sold you when you were five."

Jack shrugged. "Doesn't mean I didn't love her. Just means she didn't love me."

Sipping his whiskey this time, Luke pondered Jack's words. He'd always a.s.sumed because he loved Frannie that she loved him back. Could love have only one side to it and still be love?

Had anyone ever loved him before he was unofficially adopted by Feagan and his merry brood? If they had, wouldn't he remember?

"That night you found me in the alley, behind the garbage, did I say anything?"

"Like what?"

Luke ran his finger around the rim of the gla.s.s. "Something that might have given you a hint as to what I was doing there."

"I didn't need you to say anything to give me a hint. It was obvious. You were dying."

"But how did I come to be there?"

"Looked to me like someone had kicked you out. You were skinny, your clothes torn. Do you really want to know the truth of it?"

Luke rubbed his forehead as pain began to throb. The late hours, the encounter with Catherine were taking a toll.

"You're not thinking you're really Claybourne, are you?" Jack asked.

Luke shook his head. Claybourne, the real Claybourne, would have been worthy of Catherine. Something Luke would never be. She was a lady, and he was a scoundrel.

"Has Lady Catherine taught Frannie what she needs to know?" Jack asked.

Luke sighed. "It's as though she's taught her nothing."

"Is that why you look like a man who's lost his best friend?"

Leaning forward, Luke dug his elbows into his thighs and held the gla.s.s between both hands, studying the few drops that lined the bottom. "I've been with several women through the years, Jack. No matter what I did with them, I never felt disloyal to Frannie. With Catherine, I feel disloyal to Frannie by simply speaking with her."

"No harm in just speaking to her."

He wasn't going to confess that he'd done more than speak to her.

"Sometimes I worry that Frannie doesn't love me, and just doesn't know how to tell me." He studied the way Jack drank his whiskey. "If that were the case you'd tell me, wouldn't you? If you knew? You wouldn't leave me to make a fool of myself."

"Love is a stranger to me, Luke. Other than my mum, no woman has ever held my affections."

"Not even Frannie?"

"I like her well enough, but that's not love, is it?"

Luke was fairly sure that Jack was lying. He certainly wasn't being honest about something.

Luke set his gla.s.s on the desk and stood. "No. Like isn't love."

Neither was l.u.s.t. And that was all he felt for Catherine, a deep, almost uncontrollable l.u.s.t.

When he returned home, he was walking toward the library for a bit of whiskey to help him settle into the night when his gaze fell on the envelope sitting on the silver slaver on the table in the entry hallway. He recognized the hand that had addressed it-even though it was not quite as neat as usual. Catherine no doubt once again inviting him to one of her silly b.a.l.l.s.

He wondered if she'd left the invitation before or after their encounter in the library, wondered if she was expecting him to bring Frannie.

With a sigh, he headed to the library. Her latest invitation was simply one more that would go unaccepted.

From the Journal of Lucian Langdon Few came to the old gent's funeral. Until that moment I'd not realized what it had cost him to take me in, to announce to the world that I, the suspected murderer of his second son, was in fact his grandson.

A week after his pa.s.sing, I attended a ball. I knew it was in bad form, that when one is in mourning one does not attend affairs that exhibit gaiety. But I also knew that gentlemen were often forgiven for not adhering to the strictures of society.

Besides, I had a point to make. I wanted no one to doubt that I was taking my place as the old gent's successor.

I remember little about the ball except that from the moment I began descending the stairs, I regretted that I'd come. People stared at me as though I were an unusual-looking creature on display at a menagerie and, with that thought, my head began to pound. I desperately craved a gla.s.s of whiskey. I desperately wanted to be at Dodger's.

Ladies lowered their gazes. Gentlemen looked away. Some stepped back as though they feared being contaminated by my presence.

And then I spied her.

Her.

Lovely, elegant, and daring, she not only met my gaze, but she held it as though she was as fascinated with me as I was with her. For the briefest of moments, I contemplated asking her for the honor of a dance, but I knew such an action would tarnish her reputation. That night, for the first time in my life, I understood the sacrifices that were required to truly be a gentleman.

With regret, I turned away, the wonder of her in my arms to remain a mystery that would often haunt me.

Chapter 14.

Catherine couldn't sleep and it seemed a waste to lie in her bed alone with eyes open, staring at the canopy. She could at least be useful so she went to her father's bedchamber and told his nurse to go rest for a bit. Catherine would wake her when she was ready to retire.

Her father appeared to be sleeping, but still she found comfort in holding his hand. Even if he were awake, she couldn't tell him that she'd allowed Claybourne to kiss her three times now. Claybourne's reasons for kissing her she understood: intimidation, distraction, frustration.

But her reasons for kissing him-because she had welcomed his kiss, all three times to her shame and mortification-were a mystery. It was only because she'd thought her legs were going to buckle that she'd pushed him away this evening. The truth of the matter was that she'd rather hoped he'd ravish her further. Even as she'd thought that, she'd remembered Frannie and Dr. Graves waiting for them to return to the dining room.

When they had finally returned, Frannie had refused to hold her gaze. Catherine wondered if something in her eyes or her swollen lips had screamed out that she was a wanton woman.

She didn't want to desire Claybourne, but desire him, she did.

She shouldn't have left the invitation, but she thought if she could just have one dance with him, she'd be content for the remainder of her life. Although she couldn't imagine that a dance would be nearly as satisfying as his kiss.

"I've never known anyone like him, Papa," she whispered quietly. "Sometimes I think he'll break my heart. Not on purpose, because he doesn't know how my feelings are shifting, but it will break all the same." She stroked his hand. "Did you love Mother, I wonder? If so, how did you bear it when she was no longer here? I think that's what worries me the most. I've grown so accustomed to being with him that I'm not sure how I'll survive when he's no longer a daily"-or more accurate, nightly-"part of my life."

She pressed her cheek to the back of his hand. She would find a way to survive.

Catherine had thought it would be fun to bring Winnie's son, Whit, to the Great Exhibition. Winnie had wanted to come along as well. Had insisted on it, actually, convinced that Catherine's reputation would be irrevocably ruined if she were seen out in public without benefit of a chaperone, and as Winnie was married, she served nicely in the role.

They'd arrived at Hyde Park shortly after breakfast to wait in line. It was the cheap-ticket day, the day when tickets were only a shilling, and common folk more than the elite were about. Winnie's bruise was almost gone, but still she didn't want to meet up with anyone she might know. She thought it less likely if they came today.

The iron and gla.s.s building known as the Crystal Palace was an amazing twenty-six acres of exhibits, almost overwhelming with everything it had on display, especially for a child of four. The stunning gla.s.s water fountain in the center of the building had caused Whit's eyes to widen, and Catherine had to hold tightly on to his hand to keep him from trying to climb in.

Now, three hours later, Whit was growing weary and grumpy because his legs were tired. Catherine had carried him for some time now, hoping to see more of the exhibits before being forced to leave because her arms were growing as tired as his legs. Catherine understood now why the queen had come five times already. It was impossible to see everything in one go.

"Whit is getting so restless. Do you think we should go?" Winnie asked.

Catherine heard the disappointment in her voice, and she wondered if it was leaving the exhibition or returning home that left Winnie with regret. "Why don't we push on for a little while longer? I'd really like to see the Koh-i-Noor diamond."

"Do you think it's really as spectacular as they say?"

"Everything else we've seen so far has been."

"Even the people," Winnie whispered. "Have you ever seen such an a.s.sortment? They're from all over the world. Every time I look around-oh, dear Lord."

Winnie had grown ghastly pale.

"What is it?" Catherine asked.

"Claybourne, and he's coming this way." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I knew we never should have spoken of him in Lady Charlotte's garden the other day."

Catherine spun around. It was indeed Claybourne and Frannie. It was quite evident that they were strolling toward them-as though Catherine and her party were themselves an exhibit to be studied. She felt a little shiver of antic.i.p.ation. She was safe here with people about and Frannie at his side. He'd not tempt her into thoughts of wickedness with a kiss. It would all be very formal, very proper.

"Ignore him," Winnie said, digging her fingers into Catherine's arm.

Ignore him? How could she when he looked so exceedingly handsome in his dark blue jacket and trousers. His cravat was also blue, but his shirt and waistcoat were a gray that almost matched the silver of his eyes. One leather-clad hand held his black top hat and walking stick. She knew what that walking stick was capable of. It was nearly as dangerous as its owner.

"I won't give him a cut direct he hasn't earned." Although she could feel Winnie's horrified gaze on her, Catherine acknowledged Claybourne with a smile and wondered how to best handle this situation without causing Winnie to suspect that she and Claybourne shared more than a pa.s.sing acquaintance. She should have known Claybourne would have the situation well in hand.

"Lady Catherine Mabry, as I recall," he said lazily, a hint of teasing in his eyes that she doubted Winnie would notice. She suspected Winnie feared the man so much that she wouldn't lift her gaze above his neckcloth. "Our paths crossed at a ball once, some years back, but I don't believe we were ever formally introduced." He bowed slightly. "I'm Claybourne."

"Yes, I recall that ball. It has been some years. What a surprise it is to see you here today."

"I have it on good authority that the Great Exhibition is not to be missed."

"I daresay they'll be talking about it for years to come." She turned to Winnie. "d.u.c.h.ess, allow me to introduce Lucian Langdon, the Earl of Claybourne."

Winnie's fingers were still digging into her arm, and Catherine could feel her trembling. What was it she feared? The man had done nothing threatening.

"My lord," Winnie said succinctly, and Catherine doubted that Claybourne had missed the rudeness in her tone, yet he didn't seem bothered by it.

"Your Grace," he replied. "Allow me to introduce Miss Darling. An acquaintance."

Frannie was dressed very much as she had been last night. Her dress a drab gray as though she wished to draw no attention to herself. Even her bonnet had very little color in it, almost as though she were in a later stage of mourning.

"Yes, quite, I'm sure," Winnie said, haughtily and suspiciously.

Claybourne narrowed his eyes, and Catherine was certain he'd taken offense. It was one thing to slight him, but to slight the woman he loved- "Have you been here long?" Catherine asked, trying to make up for Winnie's impoliteness.

"No, not long. Miss Darling wanted to rush through and get a lay of the land, as it were. I prefer a leisurely pursuit. Which do you recommend?"

"I believe it's impossible to see everything in one go. At least by going slowly you see everything in more detail."

"My thought exactly."

Whit began rocking against her, his short legs kicking her backside and hip. "Go! Go!"