Geoffrey clapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, my God!”
The door opened to admit Julian, the youngest of the three brothers, the only one younger than Kit. Geoffrey sat, staring into his coffee while Julian and Kit exchanged joyful greetings over his head, and Kit filled Julian in on the reasons for her present excursion. When they finally turned their attention to their breakfasts, Geoffrey spoke. “Kit, you can’t stay here.”
Her face fell. “Oh.”
“It’s not that I mind, personally,” Geoffrey assured her, ignoring the dark look his brother was throwing him. “But can you please try to understand how your husband is going to feel if he arrives here to find you cavorting about Jermyn Street in breeches?” Geoffrey paused, then added: “On second thought, rescind that ‘personally.’ I do mind, because it’s my hide he’ll be after.”
“I’ve got a dress with me.”
Geoffrey cast his eyes to the ceiling. “With all due respect, Kit, trotting about Jermyn Street in a dress is likely to prove even more dangerous to your reputation than the other.”
Kit grimaced, knowing he was right. She’d lived in London long enough to know the rules. Jermyn Street was the haunt of the well-to-do bachelors of the ton. Women of her standing definitely did not live in Jermyn Street. “But where can I go? And for God’s sake, don’t suggest your parents.”
“I’m a coward, not daft,” returned Geoffrey.
The three cousins sat considering their acquaintance. None of it was suitable. Then Julian bounced to life.
“Jenny—Je
nny MacKillop!”
Miss Jennifer MacKillop had been governess to Frederick Cranmer’s sons and had filled in a few years more as governess-companion to Kit until the time of Kit’s first Season. Subsequently, she’d retired to look after her aging brother in Southampton.
“I had a letter from her a few months back,” said Kit. “Her brother died and left her the house. She thought she’d stay there for the rest of the year, before making up her mind what to do.”
“Then that’s where you’ll go.” Geoffrey sat up. He studied Kit sternly. “How far behind you do you suppose Hendon is?”
Kit looked uneasy. “I don’t know.”
Geoffrey sighed. “Very well. I’d better wait here in case he arrives, breathing fire. No!” he said, as Julian opened his lips. “From everything I’ve heard about Jonathon Hendon, he’d eat you alive before he paused to ask questions. At least I’ll have my wits to help me. You may escort our lovely cousin to Southampton.”
Julian beamed. “May I use your curricle?”
Geoffrey’s sigh was heartfelt. “If I find a scratch on it, you’ll be painting it with your eyelashes.”
Julian whooped.
Geoffrey raised his brows. “You wouldn’t think he shaves yet, would you?”
Kit giggled.
Geoffrey smiled. “That’s better. I’d started to wonder if you’d forgotten how.”
“Oh, Geoffrey.” Kit put out a hand to clasp his.
Geoffrey gripped her fingers. “Yes, well, I suggest you leave as soon as possible. You should be able to make it by nightfall if Julian keeps a proper eye on the cattle. It sounds as if Jenny will be able to put you both up.”
Her immediate future decided, Kit poured herself another cup of coffee. She didn’t want to go to Southampton. It was too far away from Castle Hendon. But she had to agree with Geoffrey’s reasoning. Jack wouldn’t be pleased to find her frequenting a bachelors’ residence. And she would enjoy seeing Jenny again. Perhaps catching up with her old mentor would distract her from the problems of her new role.
Jack woke on Friday morning feeling thoroughly disgruntled. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, his eyes devoid of expression. Life, full to brimming but short days before, had taken on a greyish hue.
He missed his wife.
Not only did he miss her, he couldn’t seem to function, knowing she wasn’t here, where she belonged. He couldn’t sleep; he couldn’t recall what he’d eaten for the last three days. His faculties were enmeshed in a constant retreading of their last encounters, of the opportunities he’d missed to read her mind and head off her startling, but characteristic action.
It had been a mistake to leave her at Cranmer Hall. He saw that now. But he hadn’t known then how much the thought of her would prey on his mind.
With a half groan, he pushed back the covers and hauled himself upright. Without more ado, he’d rectify his error. He’d ridden in from London late the previous night, his hope that Kit might have reassessed her objectives and returned home dashed by the sight of her empty bed. His empty bed had proved even less inspiring.