Chapter 7.

Chapter 8 Traveling in his coach, Luke couldn't help but be irritated by the amount of time he was spending preparing himself for his nightly visits to Dodger's. He'd never before been on a schedule. Now he was on one every night-not only for when he went to Dodger's but for when he left. Catherine insisted. Three at the latest. After all, she needed her beauty rest. Not that he attributed her beauty to the amount of sleep she indulged in. He had a feeling she could go a week without sleep and still be ravishing. It was more than the alabaster of her skin or the honey of her hair. It was the confidence that she exuded-as though she somehow demanded that when a man looked at her, he would see naught but her perfection. He'd known a good many beautiful women, but he'd never given much thought to exactly why they were beautiful. Catherine in particular puzzled him. She wasn't striking, and yet he was hard pressed to think of anyone he found more attractive. Not even Frannie could compare,

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9 "It's my hand, not my legs," Catherine said as Luke swept her into his arms as soon as she appeared in the doorway of the coach intending to step out. Luke had instructed his driver to go to his residence straightaway, to the back, where none would witness who was coming inside. "Yes, but the faster I get you indoors, the more quickly I can have a look." "I'm quite capable of moving quickly." "Stop complaining and just accept that on this matter you'll not win." "Such a bully," she muttered, before nestling her head more securely against his shoulder. Luke was smiling before he realized it. How was it that she managed to stir to life every emotion possible in him? First she irritated him like the devil, and then she had tried to protect him. He'd spun around in time to see her, to see the knife slashing-and his stomach had dropped to the ground. Fury had almost blinded him. At that precise moment, he'd thought he could have killed all six ruffians without breaking a sweat. Th

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10 Not tonight. -C Catherine studied the missive that had been delivered earlier in the evening. Then she compared it to the one she should have burned. It was incomprehensible that they were written by the same hand. The latest was more scribble than anything else, looking like something her father in his infirmity would have written. Not something that the bold, strong, and daring Lord Claybourne would write. Unexpected dread filled her. He'd been fighting the ruffians long before she'd stepped out of the coach. He'd disappeared into shadows, only to reemerge. She'd a.s.sumed he was unscathed, but her a.s.sumption could be wrong. He could have been wounded. Seriously. And it would be just like him to worry over her wound and allow his own to go untended-to strive to be so amazingly brave and sacrificing. This very moment, he could be fighting an infection, shivering with a fever, writhing in pain. His handwriting certainly indicated that something was amiss. And his missive was s

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11 Catherine was mortified. Quite simply and completely mortified. She sat on a bench in the hallway and fought to quell her trembling. She'd been carrying on a conversation with a man in his bedchamber-worse than that! In his bed!-as though they were sitting in the garden sipping tea and nibbling on biscuits. With nothing except a thin sheet hiding the treasures of his body. Oh, how she'd wanted to explore those treasures. Falling asleep on his chest had been lovely. He had such a magnificent chest. Even the scars didn't detract from his rough beauty. She couldn't imagine that he'd gained any of them after he came to live here. No, he would have acquired them when he was a lad living on the streets. She wanted to weep for what he must have endured. Who could blame him for turning to deceit in order to gain a better life? She wanted to hold him close, stroke him, and take away all the bad memories that must surely haunt him. No wonder he had debilitating headaches. Who wouldn't

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12 Exhaustion claimed her the moment she walked into her bedchamber. Her bed called to her like a siren's song. It was all she could do to remain patient while Jenny helped her out of her clothing. She wanted to simply rip it off and fall into bed. Dealing with Claybourne was always tiring-and exhilarating. Which only served to make it more tiring. She had to keep her wits about her at all times, although this morning they'd seemed to settle into a kind of companionship. Perhaps they would become friends and when he married Frannie and they moved more frequently within Catherine's circle of acquaintances, the blasted earl would at last accept her invitations. Or at least his wife would. Catherine had been drawn to him that first night-that first ball. But what she felt now ran more deeply. She wanted to know everything about him. Once she knew everything, perhaps she'd no longer be intrigued. She crawled into bed, yawned, and told Jenny, "Wake me at two." She needed to pick up

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13 "Whatever happened to your hand?" Winnie asked. "Whatever happened to your chin?" Catherine responded. They were in the library at Winnie's residence where they'd planned to address the invitations to their ball. But Catherine was still having difficultly holding a pen, and she was no longer in the mood to discuss the plans for the ball anyway. Winnie rubbed her chin. "I ran into a door." "Oh, Winnie, how stupid do you think I am? Where else are you hurt?" Winnie squeezed her eyes shut. "Nowhere else. He slapped me because I didn't want to perform my wifely duties." "Slapped? More likely punched. Is that his idea of the best way to entice you into his bed?" "Please, don't say anything more. It should be gone by the ball. And if it's not, you're the only one who won't believe I ran into a door. Everyone else thinks I'm clumsy." Because she'd so often blamed any visible bruises on small accidents that hadn't happened. "I detest Avendale," Catherine groused. "So you've said on

Chapter 13.

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 t

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15 Luke sat at the desk in his study, the taste of whiskey still bitter on his tongue, his gaze focused on the invitation resting in front of him. It had been more than a week since his visit to the Great Exhibition, a week during which Catherine had seemed to distance herself from him. They rarely spoke in the coach anymore. Their meetings didn't reflect awkwardness or unfriendliness, but he did sense a strain in their relationship. He suspected it had more to do with the kiss in the library then their tour of the Crystal Palace. She'd been pleasant enough there, probably because she'd felt safe with the crowds and the lack of shadows. He knew no lessons would take place this evening. Frannie had seemed quite relieved at the prospect of a night without learning the intricacies of his aristocratic life. By now, shouldn't she be more at ease with the notion of becoming his wife? He'd always envisioned his life with her, living in this house, sharing the small and mundane details

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16 He saw his grandson. Luke considered those words as his coach rattled over the cobblestone streets. He'd been wandering aimlessly through London for more than two hours trying to settle his thoughts. He'd left the affair shortly after Catherine and he had returned to the ballroom. He saw no reason to stay. He suspected no other lady would dance with him, but more than that he had no desire to dance with anyone other than Catherine. And he'd not further risk her reputation by having a second waltz. He'd already placed her reputation at risk with one dance and a turn about the garden. Why was she willing to risk so much simply to see that he was accepted? Friendship? G.o.d knew he'd risked everything-including his life-for his friends. They'd risked no less than that for him. But Catherine-what did she gain? If he spent any more time in her company, no decent man would take her to wife. Tonight she'd done away with the purpose for their a.s.sociation. For some reason, she'd decide

Chapter 16.

17 The coach came to a stop outside Claybourne's ancestral residence the following night, long after dark. The footman opened the door "Stay here," Claybourne ordered. "I'll not be bullied-" He sighed with impatience. "Catherine, do you trust me?" "Do you trust me?" "With my life," he said. Oh, dear Lord, she'd not expected him to place that burden on her. What was she doing here? How had she brought them to this moment? "I think things between us would go much better if you'd simply explain the reason for your orders," she told him. "I don't mean to be difficult, but I don't want to be kept in the dark either." "Very well. I'm going to send most of my servants to the village for two reasons. I want them out of harm's way and it'll increase the likelihood of preserving your reputation, so I need you to stay hidden until they're gone. A butler and a few footmen are all who will stay behind." Nodding, she settled back. "I shall wait patiently like a good little girl." He chuckled low. "I 18 They walked from the house in the early hours of the morning, with him carrying a picnic basket, while she carted a blanket. She wore a servant's dress that he'd located for her in the servant's quarters, because she'd brought so little of her own clothing. It wasn't confining and in a way, she preferred it to her usual attire. She was surprised that she could feel so relaxed knowing what awaited them. That morning, after another rousing session of lovemaking, Claybourne had tried to convince Catherine to go to the village and wait for him there, but she'd brought them to this moment. She wasn't about to retreat now. He thought it would be another day or so-possibly longer-before Avendale made an appearance. Catherine wasn't certain that he'd show at all. But she was delighted with the prospect of having a picnic with Claybourne. They walked for some time before they reached a pond. While Claybourne spread out the blanket, she asked, "Are there fish in there?" He stilled, looked at 19 Using strips torn from Catherine's underskirt, Luke bound and gagged Avendale after taking great satisfaction in delivering a blow to the man's jaw when he'd begun to stir. Luke was not of a mind to be gentle or forgiving. It didn't help matters that his head had begun to pound mercilessly. He actually envied Avendale his unconscious state. With great effort, he hoisted Avendale over his shoulder. With Catherine at his side, they began making their way back to the manor. No path marked the way, but the terrain wasn't too rugged. The rain, however, had increased in intensity, but Luke didn't mind. With any luck, it might reduce the fire's damage to the manor. "If the house were still burning, don't you think we'd see fire in the distance?" Catherine asked. "Yes. The servants and village's fire brigade no doubt got it under control." "Your head's bothering you, isn't it?" "I'll be all right." "What are you going to do with Avendale tonight?" "If the manor still stands, put him in the 20 Catherine was drained as she slowly made her way up the stairs toward her bedchamber. She wanted desperately to see her father, but she didn't want him to see her dressed like a servant, looking as though she'd spent a few days being ravished. Which she had, but still. He didn't need to know that. Jenny prepared the bath and Catherine sank into the steaming water. She was sore and miserable. And that was the good news. While nothing would remain of her reputation, she would deal with that problem later. Right now, her main concern was Claybourne. She didn't want him to be alone tonight. But she was so exhausted that it was all she could do to continue breathing. When she was finished with her bath, Jenny began drying her. "Shall I help you prepare for bed?" "No, I want to visit with my father for a while, and as he's not seen me in a few days, I think a simple dress would be appropriate." She felt a little more herself as she walked down the hallway to his bedchamber. His nurse rose Chapter 21 Midnight. My library. L The missive went out to three of them. There was a time when it would have gone to four. They slipped into Luke's library as quiet as the night, coming into the residence through their various preferred entrances. Bill entered through the kitchen. Jim climbed a tree and came in through a bedchamber window. Frannie preferred slipping in through a door that led off of the terrace. Catherine was there. She'd come in through the front door as though she no longer had a need to hide what they were doing. But Luke knew the truth of it. What they were about to do they would have to carry with them to the grave. They all sat in chairs in a circle. "Let's begin," Luke said. "Shouldn't we wait for Jack?" Bill asked. "He's not invited." Bill looked at the others, as though he expected someone to object, to defend Jack, and when no one did, he settled back. He was the healer among them. He always wanted to fix things, make them right. But some things, once broke.

Chapter 21.

22 It was a lovely day for sitting in the garden, and Catherine took advantage of it, having her father brought down and settled in a chaise longue while she sat in a chair beside him. It had been nearly a month since Catherine had stood in the pre-dawn with Claybourne and watched as Avendale boarded what was certain to be a ship bound for h.e.l.l. She should have slept well, knowing that Winnie and Whit were safe for all time. It wasn't guilt that kept her from peaceful slumber. It was worrying over her father, whose health was diminishing rapidly now. And it was longing for Claybourne to be there to ease the burden that was weighing on her. Catherine scoured the papers every morning searching for the announcement of Claybourne's betrothal to Miss Frannie Darling, but she had yet to see it. No matter. It would come, and when it did, it would be like a knife through her heart. One morning she'd told her father the tale of the Earl of Claybourne. He'd seemed as entertained by the story as.

23 "Aren't we somber in our mourning clothes," Winnie said. Winnie and Catherine were sitting in Winnie's garden, both of them dressed in black as was suitable for their recent status in the world, one a widow, the other mourning the loss of her father. "Even though you're in mourning, you seem quite cheerful," Catherine said. Winnie smiled slyly. "I've been speaking with Dr. Graves on occasion, and I'm thinking of trying to raise funds to build a hospital." "Oh, that would be lovely and would give you something to occupy your time." "That's what I thought. He's a rather nice man, even if he is a commoner, and I don't think I shall ever get married again. I think you have the right of it. Be independent, do as you like, not be weighted down by a husband." It all sounded so fine in principle, but in practice, Catherine spent far too much time thinking of Claybourne. As though knowing where Catherine's thoughts had drifted, Winnie said, "I have it on good authority that Mr. Marcus Langdo.

24 It was late, long past midnight, when Luke walked the familiar back hallway of Dodger's. He and his friends had gambled there, drunk there, commiserated there. In a way, it was Feagan's dwelling-simply fancier, cleaner, better smelling. Luke stopped at the open doorway that led into Jack's sanctuary, not surprised to find Jack sitting behind his desk going over his books-not checking Frannie's figures so much as relishing all he'd gained. More than any of them, Jack loved his coins. Luke cleared his throat. Jack glanced up, and for a heartbeat, Luke thought he saw joy in Jack's eyes before he shuttered his emotions. "You haven't stopped by in a while," Jack said, leaning back insolently in his chair. "I had no desire to be here." "I can hardly blame you for that, I suppose. What brings you here tonight?" "I've asked Lady Catherine Mabry to become my wife. She's consented to granting me the honor of being her husband." Jack's eyes widened slightly, before he once again gained control.

end.