Reluctantly, Katie held the paints out again. “I can’t keep these here. Mrs. Murray or one of the maids will find them and tell my father.”
Carlisle took the paints back and placed them gently in the box. “Then my mother will keep them. These will be at the dowager house, waiting for you. Come and use them anytime.”
“You should go. It’s the middle of the night, and I’m not dressed.”
His gaze dipped to the bodice of her gown, and she realized she’d dropped the sheet from her chest when she handed the paints back. She gathered the sheets back and pulled them to her neck again.
“Then I’ll bid you goodnight.” He tucked the box back into his sack and started back toward the window.
He had one leg outside when she said, “Goodbye. Carlisle, I trust this is the last time you’ll be climbing through my window.”
He smiled crookedly, gave a little wave, and was gone. Katie found the robe on the foot of her bed, put it on, and went to the window. She was in time to see him running away from the house. He looked up and gave her a wave—no kiss this time.
She waved back, then made certain the window was closed and locked. Katie could have sworn she locked it the last time. Then she turned down the lamp and looked out at the darkness of the lawn and the gardens beyond. It occurred toher, belatedly, that he hadn’t agreed not to climb through her window again.
It also occurred to her that while she’d said goodbye, he’d only said goodnight.
Why should the possibility of seeing him again make her heart beat faster? She went back to her bed and found the pink ribbon on the coverlet. She folded it carefully, went to her dressing table, and placed it carefully in the small box where she kept a lock of her mother’s hair and a ring. These were not so much gifts as items her father had allowed her to have to remember her mother, who had died a few days after the birth of her youngest brother. Katie had been three, almost four, and her memories of her mother were more feeling than anything else.
She couldn’t quite put a name to that feeling, but something about the way she felt with Carlisle made her think of those earliest days of her childhood.
She shook her head. Ridiculous. Carlisle didn’t care about her. He wanted to use her to search the library for the information he wanted. Now that she’d refused him his request, twice, she doubted he’d ever think of her again.
Chapter Eight
Henry couldn’t stopthinking about Lady Katherine. She was no fool. She’d seen through his gift right away. He hadn’t really expected her not to see through it. She was a clever woman. But he hadn’t expected to be the first one ever to give her a gift. God’s teeth, but he felt like a scoundrel for giving her a first gift that was little more than—as she’d guessed—a bribe.
Henry wasn’t even upset he hadn’t achieved his aims. He simply wanted to find a way to make it up to her.
Ellsworth approached with the teapot, and Henry nodded. Though it was not early morning, he was alone in the dining room except for the butler and a footman. “Has the duchess already eaten?” he asked.
“Eton, Your Grace? A very good school, yes.”
Henry sighed. He knew Eton was a good school. He’d managed to get himself expelled from it. He thought he’d reformed since those days, but then last night, there he was climbing through windows and offering bribes to beautiful women.
And Lady Katherine—Katie—was beautiful. He hadn’t noticed it before because initially it was difficult not to look at her birthmark. The port color stood out against her pale complexion. But now that he was used to the birthmark, he didn’t see it as separate from her any longer. Instead, he was able to look at the whole of her features. She had thick brownhair that tumbled over her shoulders, deep brown eyes, and, of course, those eyelashes. He’d never been so enamored of a woman’s eyelashes before, and he had the strangest urge to run a finger gently over them, or to perhaps brush his lips over them?
No. That was the wrong direction to cast his thoughts. Just as last night he’d gazed in the wrong direction and noticed her nightclothes had dipped low enough to reveal the swells of her breasts. They looked like nice breasts, too—plump and round and just begging for his lips to caress them.
Henry squeezed his eyes shut. What was the matter with him? He never lusted after women like this, especially not young women who were unavailable to him. But then, he supposed his mind was not usually on women but on when he would find his next game and the thrill of play. Now he had no such distractions and, since he was not in London, no widows or actresses falling over him to compliment his eyes or his smile or his broad shoulders. Perhaps if he went to the tavern, he might meet a willing woman to take his mind off the drowsy-eyed beauty he’d left last night with one delectable shoulder bared.
He might find a game of dice or cards at the tavern too, and to turn his thoughts in that direction was even more dangerous than thinking of how pleasant it would be to taste the perfectly shaped mouth of the fair Katie.
So he would stay here and think about his decidedly limited options for a future. He still had the land in Cumbria. He might be able to make something of that. Was it possible he had land in France he didn’t know about? Shrewsbury certainly didn’t hate him for no reason. What if his grandfather had kept the land? What if there was a fortune for Henry in France? He’d never know if he couldn’t search the library at Carlisle Hall.
“I see she didn’t accept your gift,” the duchess said, strolling into the breakfast room and nodding at the doorway, where the box with the paints sat on a side table just outside.
Henry rose to his feet. “And good morning to you, Mama.”
“Morning? It’s nearly noon.”
It was still at least an hour before noon, but Henry didn’t argue. He needed his mother’s help. “She called it a bribe,” he said, taking his seat after his mother had done so.
“She’s no fool,” the duchess said. “I told you as much before.”
“More tea, Your Grace?” Ellsworth asked, shuffling forward with the teapot.
“Yes, please.” The butler poured the tea. “What does the staff at Carlisle Hall say of Lady Katherine, Ellsworth?”
