A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(47)

“Goose.” Lark squeezed her hands. “You’ll come with us to Town, of course. I need you. I have ever so much shopping to do for my season, and it will be so much more fun if you’re there. Harry couldn’t care less about plumes and bonnets. I suppose I should have some actual music practice, too.”

Kate turned her head and blinked hard.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“I . . .” She tried to smile. “It’s too much to believe. I only wish I knew why you want me.”

Lark put her hands on Kate’s shoulders. “Because you’re you. And because you’re family. Family above everything.” She cast a glance toward the bailey. “Honestly, I’m not sure why you’d want us, either. We’ve little to recommend ourselves, save pots of money.”

“No,” Kate said, earnestly shaking her head. “No. I would want to be a Gramercy even if you were poor pig farmers on the Isles of Scilly.”

Lark laughed. “Well, Evan does pay a great deal of mind to agriculture. It’s rather a bore sometimes. Don’t worry about anything. There may be a touch of gossip, but this family has weathered many a scandal. Once the ton has a chance to meet you, you will only improve our overall standing, I suspect.”

Kate couldn’t quite believe that, but living with the Gramercys was social acceptance enough. When it came to the ton, she would simply do her best to stay out of the way.

“Oh!” Lark exclaimed. “I’m so stupid, I forgot. That’s the entire reason I wanted to speak with you today. Evan says we must keep it all quiet a few days longer. But you’ll be wanting to tell Corporal Thorne, of course. Now that you’re part of the family, he’ll be marrying into the Gramercys, too.”

Kate’s breath left her. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

Goodness. If ever a man needed the acceptance of a family, it was Thorne. And despite his rocky start with Evan, if the Gramercys would so happily bring her into the fold, they would surely accept Thorne, too. Why would he want a cold, lonely cabin in the American wilderness when he could be a part of this?

But that would mean marrying him. And staying married to him, so long as they both should live. No simple prospect.

“Should you like to have the wedding at Ambervale?” Lark asked. “I thought it might be nice, since your parents were so happy there. It’s your birthplace, you know. Your true home. I know you have your own plans, but promise me you’ll discuss it with Corporal Thorne.”

“I promise you,” Kate said. “We’ll discuss it.”

“Have you been letting the dog chew books?”

“What?” Miss Taylor smiled. “Thorne, when I asked to speak to you alone, it wasn’t about Badger’s discipline. I told the Gramercys I’d be down to join them for dinner. We don’t have much time.”

Thorne glanced around the rapidly emptying castle grounds. The fair was over, and daylight was fading. Everyone had gone down to the village for drinks and refreshments at the Bull and Blossom.

He pulled a small green volume from his pocket and waved it at her. “I had to pull this away from the dog yesterday. It’s Lord Drewe’s, you know.” He displayed the chewed binding. “Now it’s ruined. I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Well, don’t concern yourself overmuch. Lord Drewe has other books to read, I’m sure.”

Thorne snorted. Didn’t he know it. Fosbury had told him the marquess had two full crates of books delivered to the village, along with all his other belongings.

Two crates of books. What possible use could a man have for them all? The sheer puzzle of it irritated him.

And the books themselves weren’t even useful. He glared at the shredded volume. “Who the devil is . . .” He blinked and frowned at the letters again. “Ar . . .”

She took the book from him and peered at the chewed spine. “Aristotle. It’s a Greek name.”

“More Greeks? I don’t suppose he was one of the men fighting over that Helen of Troy.”

“He was a philosopher.” She sighed. “It’s not important right now.”

“It is important. You shouldn’t be letting Badger chew on these.”

“I know, I know. He must have gotten that one when I wasn’t looking.” She shrugged. “We can get a replacement. Evan won’t be angry.”

“Evan?” Thorne jerked his head in surprise. A bright red burst of irrational jealousy pulsed through him. “So he’s ‘Evan’ now?”

“Yes. That’s what I needed to tell you. It’s the most wonderful news. Lord Drewe has—”

She broke off abruptly and clapped a palm over her mouth.

A quick glance down told him why. A freshly killed rat had just been dropped at her feet, its hairless, wormlike tail still twitching.

As for the puppy who’d proudly delivered the kill—his furry tail was wagging like mad. A pink tongue dangled loose from a canine grin.

“Don’t scream,” Thorne warned her in a low, calm voice. As he spoke, he crouched beside the puppy and gave him a firm, affectionate rub. “Don’t scold him, either. You’ll only confuse him. This is a good thing.”

“This?” she squeaked through her cupped palm, gesturing toward the lifeless rat with her free hand. “This is a good thing? I think I’m the one who’s confused.”