“Am I able? Am I awake, rather.” She tried to grin without much success.

“At that hour fewer will see you unattended by a chaperone.”

“I will have my maid.”

“No. Ride. Accompanied by your groom.”

“You sound as though you are giving me an order.”

His brow creased. “I am.”

Now she could not help smiling. “And yet I did not give you permission to.”

“The next time I shall make certain to ask first.” The corner of his mouth lifted. The deep familiarity was still there drawing between them, a silent, restless binding.

She tried to fight it with reason. “What am I to expect?”

“I will be there,” he only said. And that was all it required for reason to fly and the pleasure of two spirits attuned to each other to overcome her. A breath escaped her that might have been a sigh.

He crossed the space between them, took her hand, and lifted her fingers to his lips.

“Kitty,” he said softly, brushing the lightest kiss across her knuckles, sending her last shred of resistance to perdition. “I am terribly sorry. You cannot know how sorry.”

She struggled against the heady warmth of his touch, holding back the words she longed to say.

That sort of disclosure would not serve anyone well, least of all herself. And he did not want to hear it.

He had made that perfectly clear at Willows Hall.

She tugged her hand away.

“Thank you,” she managed. “I deserved an apology for your dishonesty.”

“I mean that I am sorry you are involved in this now.”

“That’s all right.” She spoke to cover her confusion. “It was only your delivery that lacked finesse.

But perhaps if you gave me orders in that horrid accent with your dogs at your heels I might be more inclined to submit to your authority.”

“You have already submitted, although I doubt it had anything to do with my authority.”

He seemed to realize what he had said at the same moment as she. They stared.

“I am sorry, Kitty,” he repeated very low, quite beautifully.

“You said that already. Several times.” Their brows nearly touched as he bent his head. Her breaths came short. She could still feel his touch beneath her clothing, on her skin, and inside her body. She wanted him there again more than she could bear.

“I am full of remorse, it seems.” His voice was rough.

“And I, it seems—” She struggled for breath. “I must repeat myself as well.”

“How so?”

“I must say, ‘This is a bad idea.’” She forced the words through her lips because her heart could not bear this teasing. If he would not truly have her, she did not want this. “

‘You should go now.’”

“I should.” But he did not move. “I will leave,” he whispered huskily.

“When?” She could lift her face and he would kiss her. So she did.

“Shortly.” He did not kiss her. “Now.”

“Why? Because you are after all a gentleman and not a barbarian?”

“Because you, Kitty Savege”—his voice was taut—“are a luxury I may not allow myself.”

The door creaked open.

They jerked apart. Kitty turned to the window, heartbeat flying.

“O-oh!” the maid stuttered. “Begging your pardon, mum! But your lady mother sent over a note with the request you’re to read it right away, so… I’ll leave it on the table.” The door shut.

Kitty peeked over her shoulder.

His knuckles were white around his hat brim. “I will take my leave of you at this time.”

She took a series of quick breaths. “All right. But I will not play games like this. If you leave now, you will not be calling on me again. Are we agreed on that?”

The briefest pause. “We are.”

She blinked, lost in desire and confusion, her chest aching. Perhaps she should not have offered an ultimatum she was not prepared to live with. He was, she understood now, a man of firm convictions.

“Fine.”

“Viscount Gray will accompany me to the park in the morning. You are acquainted with him, I believe.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“Then, until tomorrow.” He bowed, and left.

Kitty sat down, folded her shaky hands between her knees, and rested for several minutes in the company of her triumphant self-respect. Then her heart shoved aside her self-respect, and finally she cried.

Chapter 18

Kitty dressed carefully in a modest habit of burgundy velvet with a high white collar, a simple matching hat with a black crinoline net encircling the crown of her head, and black gloves. She looked a bit like she was in mourning, and rather felt it. Her mother had spent the evening out late with her suitor; she was not yet awake when Kitty stole from the house at the indecent hour of half past eight.

The groom met her with her horse and they set off for the park.

Few people of fashion could be seen across the expanse of green—elderly gentlemen taking the air at a slow pace, a barouche landau carrying a pair of ancient ladies in equally ancient lace, and nurses with their young charges, running off the morning’s energies in the misty cold.

Kitty rode slowly along the waterside path. When two riders appeared across the green coming toward her at a canter, a pair of big gray shadows loping alongside, she drew in her mount.

The dogs came first, the larger one cavorting about in front of her horse, the other wagging its great shaggy tail from a wiser distance. She forced herself to look at both gentlemen as they approached, to greet Leam as civilly as Lord Gray. She wished to be angry with the Earl of Blackwood, to dislike him even, but she could not. She had come here only because he had asked and so that she could once again enact the role of a foolish girl devoted to a man who did not have her best interests at heart. Who had, in fact, none of her interests at heart.

“My lady.” Lord Gray bowed from the saddle. “You are generous to meet us here this morning.”

He was an attractive man, with very dark blue eyes and a commanding air. “May we walk for a bit?”

She nodded. The gentlemen dismounted and Lord Gray came to assist her. Leam watched, his expression unremarkable, as when he had first come into her house the previous day, before he had gazed at her with longing and touched her.

The viscount took her hand on his arm.

“I would not be surprised were you anxious about this conversation, my lady.” He drew her along the path. “You needn’t be. The prince regent and the ministers have great faith in you.”

He must feel the quiver in her hand, which she could not help, foolish woman that she was in the presence of a taciturn Scot. Usually taciturn.

“Lord Blackwood mentioned that yesterday,” she replied. “But, I assure you I am perfectly well.

Why don’t we simply get on with it so that I may then enjoy the remainder of my day as I had planned it? I daresay I have a knothole to be listening at or some such task awaiting me elsewhere. You know how it is with lady informants. Never a dull moment.”

Lord Gray did not bat an eye. “Of course, my lady. I understand your pique. We shall make this as brief as possible.”

She cast a swift glance at Leam. He was looking at the ground before him as he walked on the other side of the viscount, but the corner of his mouth tilted up. He had again donned his loose, unfashionable coat and careless neck cloth, and a shadow darkened his jaw. It seemed he had not given up his false role after all.

“I don’t know that anything I can tell you will be of use,” she replied. “I haven’t any idea of Lord Chance’s involvement in politics. Indeed I have always believed him wholly disinterested in such things.”

“In point of fact, ma’am, we haven’t come here to ask you about Chance.”

“Then the Marquess of Drake?”

“No.”

Leam’s head came up. “Gray.” His voice was low on the single syllable. Kitty drew her hand away and halted on the path in the saturating mist.

“My lord, I am not fond of games. Not any longer, at least. You must speak plainly.”

“I should like to ask you several questions regarding another gentleman of your acquaintance.

Douglas Westcott.”

Her gaze shot to Leam. His brow was drawn.

Kitty’s eyelids slipped closed, sheer misery sweeping through her. She had not imagined she could ever feel again the height of betrayal Lambert had dealt her. But apparently she had been wrong. Quite naïvely wrong.

“Douglas Westcott, Lord Chamberlayne.” She could barely utter the words. “All this time you were seeking information about my mother’s beau.”

Leam’s lips parted, his frown deepening. “Your mother’s—”

“Yes,” Lord Gray replied. “The Home Office has long held suspicions regarding untoward activities on the part of persons closely associated with Chamberlayne, principally his son, who is still in Scotland. He is known to be interested in fomenting renewed rebellion amongst the clans of the Highlands.”

She lifted her eyes to Leam. “How convenient for you that you chanced upon me in Shropshire, Lord Blackwood. Or perhaps it was not chance after all.” Her stomach hurt. Everything inside her hurt.

“I am sorry I did not voluntarily offer up information concerning the man courting my mother.

Perhaps if you had simply asked nicely as Lord Gray is now doing, I might have obliged and we would now be spared this unpleasant little interview.”

His jaw was like stone. “I had no knowledge of this.”

“Didn’t you?”

“My lady, your compliance with our wishes would assist the crown immeasurably.”