Julia London - Regency Vows - A Gentleman 'Til Midnight / The Trouble with Honour / An Improper Arrangement / A Wedding By Dawn / The Devil Takes a Bride / A Promise by Daylight

The idea had no small amount of appeal several short days later, standing with Captain Kinloch and Miss Germain in front of the late Lord Dunscore’s towering house in St. James’s cloaked by the rank London evening, with an impatient hired hack in the street and no answer at the door. He held Anne against his chest to shield her from the damp and contemplated whether it would be possible to break down the door.

“Perhaps they assumed you were never returning and closed the place up for good,” Millicent hissed into the drizzly night.

“And left the lights burning?” Captain Kinloch shot back in a tight whisper. “There must be servants here.”

“Deaf ones.”

Meow! came Mr. Bogles’s outraged protest from inside a lidded basket.

“If we can’t get in,” Captain Kinloch snapped, “we’ll go to Philomena’s.”

James was just about to risk an almost certain nighttime spectacle by rapping the knocker a third time when the door finally cracked open on silent hinges. A skew-wigged servant scowled out at them.

“Dodd—” Captain Kinloch started, but James had no patience for that.

“Do excuse us.” He pushed past the old servant into a grand marble foyer that left no doubt as to the extent of the wealth Captain Kinloch had inherited.

“Now just wait,” the man sputtered. “You can’t—”

“Please tell your footmen to bring her ladyship’s trunks from the carriage.”

“I beg your pardon!” came Mr. Dodd’s indignant protest. “I—” Then suddenly he sputtered, “Lady Katherine?” Comprehension dawned. “I—I mean, your ladyship! I had no idea. That is to say, we had no word— We weren’t informed of your arrival.” He swept into a deep bow.

“The trunks,” James ordered, and was instantly sorry when Anne roused in his arms. “Go back to sleep,” he tried to murmur, but it came out more like a muttered command.

“The trunks. Of course. Of course!” The man finally spurred into action.

Millicent carried Mr. Bogles’s basket inside, while his repeated meows echoed through the foyer as footmen finally began carrying trunks up the great, curved staircase. Captain Kinloch stood frozen beneath a blazing silver chandelier, looking as vulnerable as Anne felt in his arms.

“Your ladyship is aware,” Mr. Dodd started, but paused. “That is to say, does your ladyship intend...”

For God’s sake, this was more than James could tolerate on a few moments’ sleep snatched during a pothole-ridden coach ride that had lasted an eternity. He glanced around for somewhere to put Anne and spotted an upholstered bench against one wall.

“Intend what?” Captain Kinloch came to life suddenly. Sharply.

“Does your ladyship intend to—” Dodd swallowed visibly “—evict Mr. Holliswell and Miss Holliswell, then?”

Her ladyship’s head whipped around. “Holliswell.” Her tone sliced through the air like her beloved cutlass.

Bloody hell. James went to the bench, fighting an urge to hold Anne closer rather than put her down, but Millicent gathered Anne away from him before he could decide otherwise.

Mr. Dodd wrung his hands. “He and Miss Holliswell have...set up residence, you see, and—”

“In my father’s house?”

“We did protest, your ladyship. Let me assure you!” Dodd’s eyes traveled from Captain Kinloch’s turban, down the length of her loose hair and over her woolen wrap, to the billow of Barbary trousers peeking out below and the boots that had served well on a ship’s deck but were unspeakably outlandish here. “But it’s well-known that Mr. Holliswell is to acquire... That is to say, he expects to receive...”

“He is to acquire nothing.” Those glittering topaz eyes flicked toward James just long enough for him to see fear developing behind her outrage. His gut tightened, and he was relieved when with angry strides she went to peer into a sitting room. He could see from here that it was strewn with gilded sofas and chairs that looked as though they belonged at the French court.

“What furniture is this?” she demanded.

“Miss Holliswell has been...redecorating, your ladyship,” Mr. Dodd said faintly.

Her hands fisted at her sides. “I want the Holliswells’ things thrown into the street.”

And wouldn’t the gossips have a frenzy with that. “Where are the Holliswells now?” James asked irritably. He would explain the folly of her plan later.

“They are out for the evening, sir.” Dodd eyed him with mistrust. “I believe they went to dine with Lord Croston.”

Devil take it. “I am Lord Croston,” he said sharply. By God, he would find Nick tonight and put an end to this.

“But...” Dodd’s eyes grew wide, and he paled.

There was nothing pleasant about the tight smile curving Captain Kinloch’s mouth as she turned her back on Holliswell’s painfully distasteful furnishings. “I daresay this would be an excellent time for you to effect your miraculous return,” she said, stopping in front of him. “And when you see Mr. Holliswell, you may tell him not to step foot in my house again unless he wishes to be gelded.”

“I fully agree with the first.” The fact that hearing her speak of gelding aroused him even the tiniest bit made it even clearer this business could not end quickly enough. “As to the second, I may not phrase it in exactly those terms.”

“I will find it very hard to stand paralyzed by the strictures of politeness while Holliswell steals my estate,” she warned.

Meow! Mr. Bogles agreed.

This, from the woman who thought he was ruthless. An accusing voice reminded him this was all his fault, but the fact that he owed her did not make her any less impossible. “If you don’t grasp some concept of the strictures of politeness, Parliament will hand your estate to him on a silver platter before you can toss a single gilded footstool into the street.”

* * *

COME MORNING, KATHERINE fully intended to throw an entire sitting room suite into the street. She tried relaxing her fists, but curled them tightly again to keep Captain Warre from seeing how badly she was shaking. “It would seem he’s already been handed my estate on a platter. But if he does return tonight, he’ll not step through the door.”

The door. It rose high, topped by a sweep of carved marble and flanked by great stained-glass panels whose lead canes she used to trace with small fingers. The last time she’d been here, servants had streamed out that door with her trunks as she bid a numb farewell to Papa and his new wife.

The adventure will do you good, Katie. And when you return, I’ve no doubt you’ll trounce us all at hombre.

The cold chill of powerlessness iced through her and settled in her stomach.

“As long as there’s no bloodshed,” Captain Warre said with irritation, “I don’t care what kind of reception you give him. But I’ll thank you not to make my task more difficult by losing control of your temper when I’m not present to tame you.”

Her attention shot to him. Tame her. She forced a smile. “Find your brother tonight and solve the problem, Captain, and you need never concern yourself with my temper again.”

“Nothing would please me more, I assure you.”

She glared at him, tempted to continue goading him simply as a distraction. But behind him a wispy memory lighted on the staircase—Mama with her hand on the banister, glittering and laughing before an evening on the town. One more hug, Katie, but then I must go or your father will throw me over his knee.

The great entrance made her feel small. She could not do this. She was not like Mama, sparkling and polished to London perfection. She was more like the wood the Possession was made from—burnished and solid, but showing the effects of many storms.