Now, however, Kate told herself, she had to deal with finding a match for Deverill before she could return to her own search.
Strange how the prospect of being quit of him once and for all was not so very pleasing.
Three afternoons later found Kate staring out her drawing room window at a drizzling rain, feeling restless and dissatisfied.
“What troubles you?” Maura asked while rocking young Stephen in her arms.
The trouble was Deverill, Kate thought in consternation. Or rather, her idiotic preoccupation with Deverill. He had gone to visit his new barony and meet his dependents, and absurdly, she missed him.
Not caring to admit how eager she was for his return to London, Kate settled for a half-truth. “You know how little I relish waiting. The sooner I can find a bride for Deverill, the sooner I can journey to France.”
“You have found some good marital candidates for him?”
“Yes. They are not ideal, but adequate enough, I suppose.”
“Are you reluctant to seek a bride for him when you once loved him?”
Kate couldn’t resent the intimate question from her dearest friend. Maura was the only one who knew the full history of her romantic debacle with Deverill. She had never even told Skye about climbing into his bed nude. “I confess, I am reluctant.”
“Because you are not yet entirely over him,” Maura said sympathetically.
Ducking her head, Kate repressed a sigh. “I will have to be over him. He couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love me in return. Even so, I am concerned about him. I can’t help thinking he deserves better than a mere convenient marriage. I don’t want him to become the victim of fortune hunters and title seekers.”
“Which may be the case.”
“Yes. It began last night.”
“At the soiree I missed because Stephen was fretful?”
“Yes. Do you remember Julia, Lady Dalton? The gossip rags refer to her as Lady X.”
“Isn’t she the wicked widow of a baronet? The one who was Quinn’s paramour for a short time and caused a public scandal?”
“The very same.” Kate tightened her jaw at the memory of the raven-haired beauty. “Lady Dalton approached me last night to quiz me about Deverill. Not only does she claim a long acquaintance with him, she practically boasted about her intention to pursue him now that he is a lord.”
Maura frowned. “I thought she currently has a protector.”
“She does, but he is a ‘mere’ commoner. Her brazenness galls me. She tried to come between Quinn and Venetia two months ago, and now she has her roving eye pinned on Deverill.”
“Was he intimate with her in the past, do you think?”
“I don’t know. And truly, his former liaisons are not my business.” Kate shrugged in frustration. How was it possible that she felt so protective of Deverill—and worse, so jealous? It would be far easier if she didn’t like him so blasted much. If she didn’t still have irrepressible feelings for him.
Kate scoffed silently at herself. She had seen nothing of him in six years, and suddenly she couldn’t stop dwelling on him? How pitiful.
During his absence this week, she had kept busy with prosaic activities—riding and social functions in particular—remaining out late in the evening and falling into bed exhausted so she wouldn’t have to think about Deverill. All her efforts were for naught, which vexed her to no end.
She had done everything in her power to forget him, but she couldn’t keep him from stealing her dreams…or overwhelming the quiet moments of her waking hours.
Muttering an oath, Kate squared her shoulders and turned away from the window. She was self-sufficient and independent-minded, perfectly capable of arranging her affairs without relying on anyone else for her happiness. She did not need Deverill to enliven her life or satisfy her longing for adventure and passion. And she most certainly refused to pine after any man, even him, or worry about his past relationships with wanton beauties like Lady X.
Still, she was glad when her brother returned the next day and reported on the happenings in Kent.
“I am impressed with Deverill’s willingness to accept responsibility and do right by his dependents,” Ash told her. “He is plainly serious about learning his role as Baron Valmere. Furthermore, he’s a quick study, so I’ve had an easy time advising him. He’ll return to London by midday tomorrow, by the way.”
Although also impressed by Deverill’s efforts, Kate deplored how her heart leapt at his impending return. When, the next afternoon, she received his note saying he hoped to ride with her in the park early the following morning and break in his new boots, she quickly wrote back agreeing, conditioned on his suitable attire.
She found herself waiting with breathless anticipation for his arrival at eight o’clock, and when Deverill strode into the drawing room, the impact of seeing him was as intense as ever—as if she’d been struck in her core by a bolt of lightning. His bold, dark eyes locked with hers, and suddenly all she could think of was him.