A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(48)

“After the fair, people will have left refuse everywhere around the castle. Apple cores, little morsels of cake. Draws the vermin. Badger chased down a rat, caught it, and denied himself the pleasure of eating it. That’s precisely what he’s been bred and trained to do, and now he deserves praise.”

“What do I do?” she asked, still staring wide-eyed at the lifeless rat. “Don’t ask me to touch it. I can’t possibly touch it. It’s only just stopped moving.”

“You don’t need to touch it. Just act like it’s the best, most charming thing Badger’s done in all his furry little life. And distract him, so I can toss the bleeding thing over the cliff.”

She nodded. “All right.”

While she fawned and cooed over the pup, Thorne found a shovel and disposed of the rat. Once he’d finished the work and rinsed his hands, he returned to find her cupping the pup’s funny face in both her hands.

She made kissing noises. “You are the most clever puppy in all Sussex, Badger. Did you know that? So very brave. I just adore you.”

Thorne watched her, quietly amazed. It just came so easily to her—loving encouragement. He supposed this quality was what made her a successful tutor.

She’d handled the shock of the rat quite well. Better than most ladies would, he imagined. She deserved some encouraging praise of her own—someone to frame her lovely face in his hands and tell her she was clever, beautiful, brave, adored.

But Thorne just didn’t have that talent. It wasn’t born in him, and he’d never had lessons, either. If love were music, he would be tone deaf.

“So what was your wonderful news?” he asked. “From ‘Evan.’ ”

“Oh, yes.” With one final loving pat, she released the dog and stood. “Lord Drewe says the family will claim me as their cousin.”

Thorne’s insides clenched. Wonderful news, indeed.

“Have they found some proof?” he asked.

She shook her head. “But Evan says there’s proof enough for him. The birthmark, the parish register, the painting. And . . . I simply seem to fit. So they’re making me part of the family. They want me to come with them to Town, to Ambervale . . . everywhere.”

As she spoke of it, her face lit up. There she went again, glowing with happiness. Like a star, only further out of his reach.

He told himself not to be churlish. Perhaps this was the best possible outcome. The Gramercys . . . maybe they truly were just odd, not sinister. If they would accept her, with no further inquiries into her past . . . Katie could have a glittering new life. She would never be forced to face the horrid truth.

This was good for her. And for him. He could go to America and not worry for her. He would think of her, always. But he wouldn’t have to worry.

“Thorne,” she whispered, “you should come. They’re expecting it.”

He shook his head. “Time’s growing too short. My ship leaves from Hastings in just a few weeks. I suppose I could escort you as far as—”

Her hand clasped his. “I’m not asking you escort me,” she said gently. “I’m asking you to come with me. And stay with me. With the family.”

Stay? With the family?

He gazed at her in disbelief. “If you don’t feel safe with them on your own, you needn’t go.”

“I feel perfectly safe. That’s not my meaning.” She paused. “I want you there, too. I know your own childhood was . . . less than idyllic.”

He harrumphed. “Something less than it. Yes.”

“Well, perhaps this can be your chance to feel a part of something larger than yourself. Part of a strange, delightful, loving family. Don’t you want that, deep inside? Just a little?”

“I could never be a part of that.”

“Why not?”

He blew out a breath. “You don’t know me.”

She bit her lip. “But I do. I do know you. Because I know myself. And I’ve been a lonely person, too.” She took another step toward him, speaking softly. “I know how it wears on a soul. How it eats little pieces of your heart at unexpected times. How you can go whole weeks happily occupied, feeling no melancholy or deprivation, and then the smallest thing . . . Someone opens a letter, perhaps. Or stitches up a ripped garment that belongs to someone else. And it makes you realize how . . . adrift you are. Not tied to anyone.”

“I don’t—”

“And don’t try to tell me that you have no emotions. That you’re incapable of feeling anything at all. I know there’s a heart in there.”

It would seem there was. The cursed thing was pounding like a damned drum.

“Think this through,” he said sternly. “You’re not making sense. If the Gramercys make you part of their family, you will move in new circles of society. You could have a gentleman for a husband.”

“A gentleman who wants me for connections and money? Perhaps. I’d rather have the man who wants me.” She slid her arms around his neck. “You said you wanted me once.”

Her nearness tormented him. Like all the ladies, she’d taken a great deal of care with her appearance today. Embroidered flowers covered the overskirt of her lavender gown. The high waistline of her bodice plumped her br**sts like twin pillows—pillows edged with gold lace. She wore ribbons and flowers carefully braided into her hair.