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

If he took that swing, he wasn’t sure he could control himself. He let go. “Get out.”

“You’re obviously in love with her,” Winston said. “Even I can see that much, and I’ve got exactly no experience with love, nor do I wish to ever gain any. So what you’re doing hiding at Croston while your wife and her charms are back in London, I cannot begin to imagine.” He went to the door, still adjusting his shirt. “I must return to London immediately. From what I’ve heard of that pirate costume, tomorrow’s masquerade is not to be missed.”

“Get. Out.”

Winston flashed a damnable grin and disappeared, leaving James behind to contemplate the significance of Katherine’s pretend affair. But it didn’t take much contemplation because he knew exactly what she was doing: showing him she would not be taken captive.

He had failed her. On the Merry Sea, in Salé, in London, at Dunscore. He had failed her in every possible way. But devil take it, he loved her. And she was still his wife whether she liked it or not. Whether he deserved her or not.

Yes. Yes, he bloody well was going to go to London and fix this, and he knew exactly how he was going to do it.

CHAPTER FORTY (#ulink_a6caff85-e146-533e-8cc9-9bc7414b36d8)

“YOU MUSTN’T BE angry with me,” Honoria said as she swept into Katherine’s dressing room, which Katherine knew could only mean she would be angry with Honoria the moment she spilled whatever news had pruned those barely painted lips. “La—is that your costume?” Honoria stopped short, staring at the bed.

There was a certain satisfaction in answering, “Yes.”

“It’s...” Honoria shifted wide eyes from the costume to Katherine’s face. “Quite daring.”

“You disapprove?”

“Not at all.” Honoria went to finger the flesh-colored breeches. “I am undone with envy, in fact.”

“Ridiculous. Your costume is fabulous.” But Honoria hadn’t come here to discuss the masquerade. That much was clear, and it was a good bet what Honoria did want to discuss.

Honoria turned her back on the costume, and Katherine held her breath. “Katherine, I’ve been to Croston— No, do not be angry. James is my brother, after all.”

It was the one drawback of their friendship. “I am sorry for your misfortune, but in this case I do not wish to be company for your misery.”

“I’m worried about him, Katherine.”

Honoria’s tone gave her pause. She ignored it. “Your worry is wasted. He may not be accustomed to losing, but you may rest assured he knows from experience that underhanded battle tactics do not always succeed.”

“It isn’t like James to be underhanded,” Honoria said quietly. She took Katherine’s hand and squeezed it. “I can’t condone what he’s done—he was a fool, and nothing less. If he wasn’t my brother, I might even say he’s done the unforgivable. But, Katherine, I’ve never seen him like this.”

Like what? “If he appears to be suffering, you’ve come to the wrong person with your concern.” But her mind conjured up all sorts of imaginings of the state James might be in. She tried to feel pleased.

“Hear me out. Please.” Her gravity was a little alarming. Katherine tried to ignore it. “He’d been drinking when I arrived. It was only one o’clock.”

“Hardly uncommon, and hardly cause for worry.” Though not like James, but she hardly cared.

“He was half-drunk, Katherine. Rumpled clothes, unshaved, hair a mess—he was reading a treatise about pigeons, Katherine. Pigeons!”

“In other words, he is enjoying the retirement he’s been speaking of since he first came aboard my ship. Honoria—”

“No. You don’t understand. There was a quality in his eyes, Katherine. I’ve never seen it before.” Her voice faltered, and Katherine looked hard for any sign Honoria was putting on a performance. “It was as if he didn’t care whether he lives or dies,” Honoria said with difficulty. “Katherine, you must do something. If not for him, for me. I’ve already lost one brother—I don’t think I could stand to lose another.”

Now she was being melodramatic, but it would have been cruel to say so.

“I realize how much I’m asking,” Honoria added. “And that he’s been a complete, utter ass. I told him as much.”

“Yes, he has. He stole my inheritance, Honoria. He lied to me, betrayed me—”

“I know, I know—”

“—after everything he knew, everything I told him! I trusted him.”

“He loves you, Katherine— No, don’t scoff. Please. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.”

“If he loved me—”

“I know, I know. He never would have done any of this. But Katherine, this is James. You know as well as I how he’s accustomed to thinking. Orders, commands—if he could have commanded you to marry him, I am convinced he would have. Because he loves you, and he doesn’t know any other way.”

* * *

IF HE LOVED her, he would have found another way, Katherine fumed on the way to the masquerade. Such as telling her he loved her, which he’d never done—not when she’d agreed to marry him, not after their wedding, and not when she’d confronted him with his treachery.

Lord and Lady Pollard’s grand masquerade was a glittering sensation, a mass of fabulously costumed people swirling through an endless ballroom beneath painted ceilings and sparkling chandeliers. Dancing, laughter, drinking, gaiety—all of it closed in around Katherine while she tried in vain to forget what Honoria had told her.

I’ve never seen him like this.

Katherine caressed the handle of her cutlass, which for once hung prominently at her side. I won’t draw on you, Katherine. Coward. If he truly respected her, they would have met on the field for what he did.

Let him waste away at Croston. Tonight she felt powerful. Beneath her tricorne hat, her hair hung in loose, shining curls to her waist. Madame Bouchard had altered Grandfather’s old coat so that it hugged her curves. She’d let it hang open in front, revealing a corset and breeches in soft beige that gave the perfect illusion of nudity.

“There isn’t a man here who’s taken his eyes off you all evening,” Honoria said under her breath, giving the white drape of toga across her breasts a little tug—downward. “I ought to send you home.”

“If your toga dips any lower,” she said to Honoria, “you’ll have the attention of every man and woman when your female charms go on public display.”

“I would never allow such a thing to happen.” Beneath her ivy-edged mask, a wicked smile curved Honoria’s lips. “At least, not in front of the entire party.”

Phil, barely concealed in a patterned tunic that was supposed to make her look like an Egyptian goddess, made a noise.

An ill-concealed Duke of Winston ducked through the crowd and joined them. “You look magnificent tonight,” he said to Katherine from behind a sleek black mask. “Positively terrifying—and damned tempting.”

“How impolite to imply that you’ve guessed my identity, Your Grace,” she scolded.

A sparkling white grin appeared below the mask. “My apologies, Madam Pirate. And may I add, I have a great deal of respect for your costume accessories.”

“Perhaps a chain mail tunic should have been your choice for the evening,” Phil told him.

He laughed. “Chain mail is much too tedious for the kind of unexpected situations one finds oneself in at these events.” Even as he spoke, he surveyed the crowd with a glint in his eye.

“Searching for prey, Your Grace?” Katherine asked. He was tiring of their arrangement. So was she, but for entirely different reasons. Her gaze strayed toward the entrance, and she yanked it back. James would not be here tonight, nor did she want him to be.

Above the mask, Winston’s dark brow rose with interest as he returned his attention to her. “Why would I search for prey when I have such a delectable morsel right here at my side? Perhaps you and I could find a secluded alcove and—”

“And nothing,” Honoria snapped. “This has already gone too far.”