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. Julia London
commitment. The panic that had dogged her since her first night in London returned, seeping through every crack like water through an unsealed hull. “They’re going to vote against me, aren’t they.”
“Not if I can help it.”
She stared at him. What if he couldn’t help it? “Nobody knows me,” she said. “My father’s friends, my old acquaintances—they’ve no reason to support me.” And plenty of reason not to.
“Don’t be irrational. These are reasonable men. They’ll not take this issue lightly.” He bent his head to kiss her again, but she pulled away and paced toward the drapery fluttering in the breeze. Behind her, he exhaled sharply.
“To come to London and attempt to navigate society, when I barely remember my own debut—”
He gave a derisive laugh. “The melodrama returns. Show me the woman who doesn’t remember her debut, and I’ll show you a corpse twenty years in the crypt.”
His sarcasm couldn’t staunch the flow of her fear. Her feet began to move. “What effect did I think I could have? What did I think I would accomplish besides letting all the world witness my humiliation?”
“This is senseless. You’ve already made inroads into society, and I’ve talked with dozens of men. I’m sure I’ve changed more than a few minds.”
But what if he hadn’t? “What if they don’t stop with pains and penalties?”
“Oh, for God’s sake.”
“What if they press charges against me?” She paced by him to the fireplace in a panic, her fear in control.
“You are not a pirate, and there will be no charges.”
“The questions people ask me—”
“Impolite, certainly, but reflecting a curiosity that works to your benefit.”
“The conversation we overheard, the invitations—”
“Katherine, stop.”
“The odds that they’ll decide to let me keep Dunscore without any conditions—”
“Stop.” This time he grabbed her arm as she walked by. She jerked to a halt and shot her attention to his face.
Please help me. Please do something. She couldn’t beg for help. She wouldn’t.
“It’s too soon to give up,” he said. “Which isn’t to say there’s anything easy about surrendering your fate into someone else’s hands—especially when you’re used to being in command.” His voice was low and calm. It filled the cracks in her resolve like soft tar. Oh, God—she was staring at him the way he must have stared at the Possession’s hull as he’d floated in the water.
“No. No, it isn’t easy,” she said woodenly.
“You’ll have to be cautious about what you tell the committee. You mustn’t lie—”
“Of course.”
“—but you should be...prudent.”
Prudent. A hundred unanswerable questions crowded her tongue. He stood there like Gibraltar, strong and constant, and the desire to be in his arms again nearly overwhelmed her. Instead, she paced toward the fireplace. She’d promised herself she would not lean on him. She needed to say something to distance herself, but now her tongue felt leaden and all she could think was, Please tell me it will be all right.
“What will they want to know?” she asked.
“Everything, no doubt. Things they have no business knowing.”
“And I risk their disapproval if I refuse to answer, as well as if I tell them what they want to know.”
“Unfortunately. Except...”
She spun back. “What?”
His brows were furrowed, and he watched her with troubled eyes. “There’s more than mere high seas drama to your story, Katherine. I would never suggest that you exploit your unfortunate circumstances, but if it would elicit even a small measure of sympathy from the committee members to remember that you were just a girl, and—”
“You want me to describe my capture.”
“It might be helpful.”
“And my captivity.”
“If the story might affect the outcome, yes.” In his eyes she could see that he wanted the story not just for its effect on the committee, but for himself. He wanted every detail, every tragic turn of events, so he could add them like stones to the weight of his debt. Everything he was doing was because of his own guilt—not affection, not even lust.
The past yawned open and began to suck her in, and she fought back hard. She didn’t want his pity. More than anything, suddenly, she wanted his understanding. But she wasn’t going to get it.
He hadn’t moved, and neither had she. They watched each other from several yards away. “You should know that I’ve forgiven you,” she said flatly. “You did what you thought best at the time. I understand that.”
His eyes sparked, and his lips curved mirthlessly. “An ill-timed absolution, given that I’m likely to be instrumental in front of the committee tomorrow.”
“Nonetheless. There is nothing you could have done to stop what happened.”
“You don’t know that,” he said sharply, then calmed. “We can do no good rehashing this. We should return to the crush. I shall do all I can tonight, and tomorrow in front of the committee. I’ll not walk away until everything is settled.”
I don’t want you to walk away ever.
But he hadn’t brought her to this room to calm her fears. The truth of that still burned in his eyes. If she reached for him right now, he would put his arms around her, pull her to him, and she could lose herself in his strength and forget about everyone in that ballroom, if only for the time it took to—
To what? Show him how weak she really was?
She forced her lips into a stiff curve, straightened her skirts and moved toward the door. “Excellent. Then by all means, let us go see what more can be done.”
* * *
NOTHING MORE COULD be done. She knew it in her gut as sure as she could sense the tide changing.
Captain Warre stayed nearby, close enough to lend his influence at the right times, but far enough not to interfere when someone asked her to dance. With each passing minute, she could sense his frustration growing. It was a palpable thing that could not be drowned out by music and laughter.
All was in vain. She knew it to be fact two hours later, after a string of new dance partners, a dozen introductions from Honoria, two very improper suggestions from men who were not even on the committee and a direct cut from Lady Wenthurst. Yet still she kept trying. Hoping. And all the while her breath grew more labored and her smile grew more brittle.
If she did not escape immediately, it would shatter.
She managed to evade Captain Warre while he was talking to a group of men. Desperate for air, for something to soothe her throat, she found a fresh glass of wine and escaped to the private rooms. Within minutes she found the open French doors she’d seen earlier. Unnoticed, she stepped onto the far end of the stone balcony that stretched along the back side of the house. Far to her left, where a set of doors opened into the ballroom, a crowd of people stood talking. Silently she retreated even farther into the shadows.
She set her glass on a stone cap and gripped the railing, desperately inhaling the cool night air. The wine warmed her blood, but a scream pushed at the back of her throat. What in God’s name was she doing here? All this judgment was exactly what she had chosen to avoid by making her life on the Possession.
Was she really going to subject Anne to this now after protecting