Page 8 of A Courtship of Conspiracies
“A strange question, considering it is your name.”
“Given everything between us, you might call me James,” he said. “At least when we are alone.”
“But we are not even betrothed.”
“Not yet. But we played together as children. Certainly it would not be a complete breach of propriety so long as no one else hears it.”
“It would feel rather forward to use your Christian name after so many years apart, but I promise to do so once you have earned the right to such familiarity.”
“Earned it? And how exactly does one earn the right to be called by his own name?”
“I shall let you know when such a thing occurs.”
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“Perhaps it is.”
“You should know,” he murmured, “that I intend to continue to call you Kate. Especially when we are alone.” There was something disarmingly easy about sparring with her like this. Teasing Kate came as naturally now as it had when they were children, though now it held an undercurrent that had been absent in their youth.
She sighed, blowing a puff of white into the air. “Very well, since I am not sure I could stop you if I tried. You may address me by my Christian name. I cannot say that I am surprised by your insistence,” she said, making no effort to hide the challenge sparking in her tone. “Now, would you be so kind as to answer my question?”
He had worried a proposal to Kate would not be simple, but the swift unraveling of his careful plan made his head ache. He bowed his head, trying to steady himself.
“Lord Brenton?”
He straightened to see Kate watching him closely, and he reined in his irritation at the delay. He forced himself to consider how he might satisfy Kate’s wisheswithout defying Westmarch’s orders.
He had already intended to return to London after they wed. His seat in Parliament required his presence in Town, and most of his connections, both political and unofficial, were there as well. It was also the best place to begin investigating the list Henry had sent him. He had no wish to force Kate into an unwanted marriage, but he also could not enter into an arrangement with no deadline.
Five weeks. Enough time to secure what he needed and enough delay to lose it entirely. The whole thing was a gamble, but the date on Henry’s letter pressed at the back of his mind.
The decision sat uneasily, but no alternative presented itself. James had no choice but to yield to her request. He knew what sort of men filled London’s ballrooms, and he bristled at the idea of Kate unattached, surrounded by fortune hunters and less reputable gentlemen. He was also familiar with other dangers she could not be expected to anticipate. But if he were with her, he could guard against trouble and keep his promise to Hugh.
“Very well.” His heart beat faster. “I accept.”
It was a risk. One he would not have chosen. But refusing her would lose her entirely. And that, for reasons he did not care to examine too closely, was not an option.
“You do?” She tightened her grip on his sleeve, then stilled, clearly regretting the gesture.
“Five weeks,” he said, stepping closer, near enough that the space between them tightened until the winter air seemed to hum. “We have five weeks of courting in London. At the end of that time, Kate, I will ask for your final answer.” A gust of wind sliced across the path, rattling the bare branches overhead.
“Why five weeks?”
He could not tell her the truth.
“A drawn-out courtship that does not end in marriage could damage your reputation,” he said, an accurate statement if not the whole reason. He gently loosened her tight hold on his coat sleeve and drew her hand into his. It settled easily. As if it belonged there.
After a measured pause, she drew her mouth into a firm line. “I agree to your condition, my lord. And I am grateful. I know you did not come today anticipating a courtship.”
“I am no stranger to unexpected turns,” he said, a wry note in his voice. “I look forward to our time in London, though I suspect much of my enjoyment will depend on the company we keep.”
Kate laughed, the sound bright against the stillness, and his carefully held reserve faltered. For a heartbeat, James forgot every reason to be careful.
“But you, Kate,” he said softly, reaching out, hesitating only a moment before tucking a windblown curl back beneath her bonnet, his fingers brushing her cheek. “You are someone I am eager to know again.”
The world narrowed and the wind stilled; even the distant caw of a crow faded into silence. In the quiet space between heartbeats, nothing remained but the two of them and the thrum of unspoken possibilities. For a moment, neither of them moved. Her breath caught. His hand remained on her cheek. The vulnerability in her eyes roused a fierce protectiveness, a feeling he had no right to entertain.
He dropped his hand as though burned, moving back abruptly. The cold rushed in again, sudden and biting. The last light of the sun was fading behind the distant trees, casting a faint glow over the stark winter landscape.
