“I cannot conceive a child. There. I have said it to you. It is proven I cannot.”

Her mother’s face stiffened. “How is it proven?”

“I was with Lambert many times, Mama. At first it was because I loved him and believed he would marry me. After it became clear that he wished only for Alex to suffer through my ruination, I devised a plan of revenge. I determined to do whatever I must to learn his secrets so that someday I might publish them to the world and bring him shame. I allowed him to believe I still loved him and I continued to allow him liberties. In this way, on occasion, I gained access to his personal chambers.”

Her mother’s cheeks were white. “For how long did this persist, Kitty? Until last summer when he was exposed?”

“No.” Until three years ago when a Scottish lord laid his beautiful gaze upon her and she began to imagine a manner of living free of twisted anger and pretense. “But for long enough.”

The dowager’s voice quieted. “I knew of the first occasion only. That night when you came to me in tears, I realized what you were not able to tell me directly.”

“I suspected so. I did not imagine you would allow me to remain unwed unless you understood that I was no longer fit to be a gentleman’s bride.” She took a trembling breath. “I saw a physician, and Lambert even showed me proof of his own ability to father children. I shan’t have a family of my own.

But I will be happy to be aunt to Alex and Serena’s children.”

Her mother studied her for a moment, then touched her fingertip to Kitty’s chin and lifted her face to the light.

“You will be a wonderful aunt.” She kissed Kitty’s brow. “Will you come out with me and Douglas tonight? It may improve your disposition to see friends, to remember that you are admired and appreciated by many.”

Kitty shook her head. “I must look frightful and I feel wretched. Perhaps tomorrow, Mama.”

She did not attend her mother on any outings for the following several days. Her illness persisted, allowing her an unexceptionable excuse to remain within. But finally she was able to eat some dinner.

The following day she walked in the park with Serena and paid a call on Lady March, agreeing with both the countess and her mother that she would attend the season’s opening ball that evening. It was sure to be a thorough crush; she would be able to escape it early if she wished without her mother’s notice.

When she returned to the house Mrs. Hopkins announced with a dour look that there were no calling cards from any earls on the foyer tray. The day before he had not called either. He had given up, and quite swiftly at that, which was for the best. Kitty wondered how a man could switch his affections from one woman to another with such ease. Certainly if she were a gentleman she would now be at her club, deep in her cups, and likely to remain so for many weeks to come.

But Lambert had taught her that men were a different sort of creature, a sort she would never understand. And anyway if she were a man she would not be where she was now, wishing to be deep in her cups and happy to remain so forever but unfortunately without that recourse to grief.

Chapter 25

“Wouldn’t you rather leave that bottle to me, old man?”

Leam’s boot tips bumped the edge of the sideboard. Hefting the crystal decanter, he set it unsteadily to the rim of his glass, then lifted the glass and took a long swallow before swinging his gaze to the Welshman at the parlor door.

“Welcome tae share it. Plenty more in the cellar.” He shuffled back to his chair before the hearth.

Through half-lidded eyes he glanced at the page of foolscap on the table beside him.

Yale sauntered over and took up a glass. “I cannot recall the last time I saw you disguised.”

“S’ time ago.” Leam shifted his gaze into the flames, the smoke curling into his senses. Outside it might be daytime, but the curtains were drawn and he was dead drunk. Finally, after ten days. Drunk as an emperor. In the gun, with no intention of ever climbing out again.

Yale took a seat across from him. He sipped. “Fine year.”

Leam grunted.

“What’s this?” The Welshman picked up the paper. He made a sound under his breath. “Hm.

Chamberlayne is freed from all guilt, and his rebel son too. Did you have a hand in it?”

“They needed hard proof. I found it.” He’d spent the past sennight in every hellhole in London, not to mention a dozen clubs, hounding down the owners of that ship. Through contacts he and his solicitor had made at Lloyd’s while searching for Cox, he met with success. “Cargo wasn’t anything of note.”

“Not British tactical secrets after all?”

Leam shook his head. “Just contraband. Illegal goods. Home Office’s informant at Newcastle Upon Tyne was getting a cut o the profit.”

“Ah. And he tried to cover up the operation with alarmist talk of Scottish rebels and French spies?

Clever of him. More clever of you to have unearthed it. ” Yale paused. “And here I thought you had quit.”

He’d quit now. The man soon to be Kitty’s stepfather was now fully exonerated.

He tilted a glance at his friend. “Come tae convince me tae stay?”

Yale regarded him steadily. “I have come to help, of course.”

“As ye did when ye dragged her into this business?”

“You are foxed. Usually I’m the one that must introduce the lady into conversation.”

Leam closed his eyes.

“There’s no help for it.” He sounded exhausted. He hadn’t slept in days. For years he’d thought himself a widower. Now he was a husband, he’d made Kitty an adulteress, and she would not see him.

Drink seemed the only option. Probably until death.

“There must be something we can do,” Yale murmured.

He shook his head, passing his hand across his stubbled jaw and blinking, but his vision would not clear. Good. Let it remain foggy forevermore.

“Parents support her story,” he muttered. “Been safe in the companionship of a bloodhound of an Italian duenna. A Catholic no less. Lived in a convent.”

“Don’t tell me she became a nun!”

Leam swung his gaze to his friend. “If ye find my life’s tragedy amusing, Yale, feel free to leave nou. Won’t mind a’tall.”

“You have entirely lost your sense of humor. In the abysmals, indeed.”

He had lost his heart. One in the same.

“I’ve no grounds for divorcing her, even were I such a man to do so. She’s not been unfaithful.”

Yale did not reply.

“She wants tae go home.”

“To her parents’?”

“Alvamoor.”

“To see young Jamie,” the Welshman murmured. “Will you allow it?”

Leam ran his hands up his face and sank them into his hair. “I canna bear the thought o it.”

“Then we must devise an alternative.”

Leam shifted his gaze up. “Frae where comes the optimism?”

Yale stood. “Frankly, I cannot bear to see you like this. Neither can Constance.”

“Did someone say my name?” His cousin sailed into the chamber, the scent of white roses attending her. Leam had never noticed the scent she wore. Before knowing Kitty, he’d noticed precious little of anything pleasing or colorful. He’d been cold. Asleep. Now he was awake, alive, smelling and hearing and seeing everything, and he wanted it all cold again. All gray. But the grayness was like her eyes, and so even in his fantasies of reclaiming living death she haunted him.

His cousin kissed him on the cheek, then moved away to perch on a chair. “You wish to see Lady Katherine, don’t you?”

As he’d never wished for anything else. But she had been wise in refusing his calls. He had nothing to say to her save those declarations that his wedding vows now made dishonorable.

“Aye.” He wished to see her and touch her and have her as his own. And now he could not.

But he could still protect her. Tomorrow when he regained his sobriety and wits, he would redouble his efforts to find the fox that hadn’t yet come out of his hiding hole. Cox.

“Then listen to this gossip.” Constance leaned in. “The dowager Lady Savege and her daughter are expected at Lady Beaufetheringstone’s ball tonight. I heard it from the dowager herself, via two other ladies, of course.”

Leam’s head came up. “A ball?”

“Lord and Lady B. You were invited.”

Momentarily his vision became crystal clear. He mustn’t go. It would not do either of them any good.

Constance surveyed his appearance. “Lady B is exceptional ton. You will have to tidy yourself up.

Would you like to escort me?”

“Aye.”

As soon as they stepped onto the landing, he scanned the crowded ballroom as he had nearly a fortnight earlier, searching. Constance drew her hand from him and leaned close.

“Good luck,” she whispered, and left him on the step.

Despite the crowd, he found Kitty swiftly. Surrounded by friends, elegant, intelligent people, she appeared perfectly at ease. Her gown shimmered, soft gray and sparkling through some artifice that on her seemed like stardust, revealing her graceful shoulders and beautiful curves. Her hair was dressed simply with diamond-studded combs. She was exquisite, and she deserved everything he could not give her, and more.

He went forward, ignoring the stares and titters. He had not been out in society since Cornelia’s return. He did not plan on being so for longer than the moments it would require to speak to Kitty. Not long enough.

She turned and looked directly at him. Her wide, thundercloud eyes were not clear, but tinted with pink, delicate smudges of gray nesting beneath them. She looked thin—too thin—as though she had been ill, yet she held her chin high.