A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(63)

“Evidently,” Kate said. Her head was spinning.

“I must say, it almost makes me jealous. When two women want to be alone, the sneaking around is far too easy.” She came to sit near Kate on the bed. “I do hope you enjoyed your night. But next time, be a dear and give me some advance warning?”

“Oh, Harry.” Kate let her head drop into her hands. She knew her cousin’s interference was well-meant. But it was poorly timed. Just when she’d vowed to make a clean breast of things. “It’s not at all how you think.”

“You don’t have to make excuses to me, Kate. Of all people, I’m not going to judge.”

“I know. But I’m being truthful. I swear, nothing like that happened. In fact—” She broke off, overwhelmed.

Harry clucked her tongue and patted Kate’s shoulder. “Did you and Corporal Thorne have a row? Tell me what the scoundrel did. Don’t worry, you can abuse him to me thoroughly. When you two make things right again, I’ll never let on. I say the most horrid things about Ames when I’m vexed.”

“I don’t think this will ever be made right.” Kate raised her head. “I ended the engagement.”

“Oh.” Harry moved closer and put her arm around Kate’s shoulders. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry.”

“Are you? I didn’t think any of you liked him.”

“Well, no. But you liked him, so we were trying our best.”

Kate smiled, even as tears welled in her eyes.

Harry handed her a handkerchief from her waistcoat pocket. In her typical style, the linen square was gentlemanly—unadorned with lace or fancy monograms.

Kate’s heart twisted as she traced the neatly hemmed border of the handkerchief. She hated to think their family bond might all be a lie, a misunderstanding.

Harry asked, “You didn’t break off with Thorne for our sakes, did you?”

“No. No, it was something else altogether.” Kate sniffed and dabbed at her cheeks. “I must speak with Evan right away. This morning, if possible. I need to explain to him about last night.”

“Oh, no.” Harry’s eyes flew wide. “Kate, you can’t. You can’t tell Evan anything about last night. He’ll go into one of his . . . episodes.”

“His episodes?”

“You’ve seen the man seethe. But you haven’t seen him explode. And nothing sets him off like knowing one of his female relations has been compromised. It wasn’t only for your sake that I lied last night. I’ve grown fond of this little village, and I should hate to see it laid waste.”

Laid waste? Surely Harry had to be exaggerating.

“You’d believe me if you’d been there when Calista was discovered with Parker,” Harry said. “Good Lord, it was like something from a didactic medieval tapestry. One duel, two outbuildings burnt to the ground, at least a half-dozen valuable horses running wild on the moors. Took the grooms days to retrieve them all.” She shook her head. “It made Evan’s efforts on behalf of my honor look like a few friendly bouts at the club.”

“And what about Claire?” Kate couldn’t help but ask.

“The less said about Claire, the better. Let’s just say there’s a gentleman somewhere who’s missing parts. Vital parts.”

Goodness. Kate tried to reconcile these accounts with the Evan Gramercy she knew and had come to admire. He seemed so collected and elegant. When they’d played together that night, she had sensed the depth and intensity of emotion beneath the surface. But violence?

“I must risk it anyway,” she said. “In truth, my virtue has not been compromised. My conscience is clean.”

“Kate,” Harry said sternly. “I am not one for social convention. But even I know, if you spent the night with Thorne, you are compromised. It doesn’t matter what happened or didn’t happen.”

That was exactly what Thorne had said. If two human beings as completely opposite as Thorne and Harry agreed on something, Kate could only conclude it must be true.

Harry squeezed her hand. “I beg of you. Unburden your heart to me, if you wish—or find a way to tell Evan part of the truth. But unless you wish true harm upon Corporal Thorne, do not let Evan know about last night. And for the love of everything, change your frock before you speak with him.”

There was a knock at the door.

Kate sucked in a deep breath and hastily dabbed at her eyes. “Who is it?”

“It’s me.” The door opened a crack, revealing Lark’s sweet countenance. When she laid eyes on Kate, she flung the door open wide. “Kate, what is it? Are you still ill?”

Kate shook her head. “No. I’m fine.”

“I’ve just been telling her a very sad, tragic story,” Harry said, rising to her feet. “And she was deeply moved by the moral of the tale.”

“Harriet. Don’t provoke her so. At least not until she’s stuck with us for good.” Lark turned to Kate and smiled. “Evan has visitors at the tavern. The solicitors, I think. He’s asking to see you.”

Chapter Sixteen

As many times as she’d been in the public room below, Kate had never visited the rooms above the Bull and Blossom.

At Fosbury’s direction, she made her way up a narrow staircase and emerged into a long, windowless corridor. She froze, struck again by that same familiar image.