LITMIR.BIZ

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was all right. That perhaps it had been unfair of her to ask him to try.

      No, not unfair.

      Unfair was James lying to her. Taking advantage of her ignorance after she’d given herself to him so completely.

      A footman carrying a note to her solicitor had quickly confirmed the date of the committee’s decision. Bates had claimed not to remember when James had left for Dunscore, but one of the stable boys had proved less forgetful.

      James had known. He’d bloody known what it meant to her, and he’d still tricked her into marriage.

      She brought her hand down hard on the desk, relishing the sting. James may have thought himself powerful, but starting tonight the power in this marriage belonged to her. What she had given James of herself she would take back.

      An hour passed—perhaps more—before she heard him talking to Bates in the entry. She tensed. Her throat constricted so tightly only the thinnest ribbon of air could pass. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel its beat in her legs.

      When he came through the library door, he didn’t see her at first because he was reading something in his hand. The urge to go to him rose up, but she squashed it. He was almost to the desk when he glanced up. When he saw her, he stopped.

      She leaned back in the chair with her palms flat on the desk. “Good evening, Captain.”

      “Likewise.” He paused. “Captain.” The look in his eyes changed from pleasure at the sight of her to the guarded calculation that had marked the first weeks of their acquaintance.

      A ferocious urge to forget everything welled up inside her. Whatever he might have done, they were still married. She could let it go.

      Except he’d taken her independence, her birthright, and now she could not get them back.

      “How were your visits?” she asked. “Is everything finished?”

      He tossed the sheaf of papers in his hand onto the desk and stood opposite her. “I suppose you could say that.”

      She stared at him silently across the mahogany expanse, partly to see what else he would offer without her prompting, and partly because her throat was too tight to speak.

      “Katherine—”

      “I suppose I could say that, couldn’t I,” she interrupted, suddenly not wanting to give him an opportunity for more lies. “Especially given that the committee had already decided not to attaint me when you left for Dunscore.”

      There was a barely perceptible change in his eyes, and her belly dropped. “I see Honoria and Phil returned, after all,” he said darkly.

      I didn’t know. I hadn’t heard. That was what he was supposed to say. Heaven help her, she wished it were true so badly she would almost be willing to accept a lie. Thank God—thank God—she hadn’t told him she loved him.

      She stood up suddenly. “Bastard,” she spat. Damn him— No I’m sorry, no Let me explain. Just I see Honoria and Phil returned, after all. “This was why you sent them away. And then you made love to me in order to cover up your lie.”

      He leveled those green eyes at her. “That isn’t true.”

      “I should kill you right here.” She came around the desk and drew her cutlass, so enraged that her vision hazed over.

      He didn’t move.

      “Draw, damn you!”

      “I won’t draw on you, Katherine.”

      “Why not?” she demanded, and saw the truth in his eyes. “You do pity me. Even now.” It wasn’t to be borne. “Draw!”

      He just stood there, watching her.

      She raised her blade to his neck. “I should slit your throat for what you’ve done.”

      “When I left London for Dunscore, I had every intention of telling you about the vote.”

      She stared at him and wondered how her heart could keep beating when it hurt so much.

      “I’d planned to tell you, Katherine. But when I saw you—”

      “I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”

      “I don’t expect you to believe me.”

      “After all this talk of helping me, of winning over the committee— God. After all that talk of guilt—”

      “Do not tell me how I feel.” He pointed at her, heedless of the blade.

      “Dunscore could have been mine. It was mine. And you stole it!”

      “The trusts we woke Deal’s solicitor in the middle of the night to draft say otherwise. Dunscore remains in your name.”

      “You betrayed me!”

      “Would you have agreed to marry me under any other circumstance?”

      “Yes!” The answer shot from her lips on its own, stunning them both into silence.

      He blanched, and his mouth thinned. “If we would have married, anyway, then I fail to see why it matters now what ultimately brought us together.”

      He may as well have stabbed her through the heart. She forced her mouth into a curve. “No. Nor would I expect you to.” Finally she sheathed her blade.

      “Katherine...” He came toward her, but she backed away, ready to draw again. He held his hands up, but his eyes blazed. “I would do it again,” he said harshly. “If it was the only way to have you, I would do it again.”

      Katherine could think of only one reason for him to say such a thing. “God, I’m a fool. Croston is in debt, isn’t it? I should have known.”

      “Croston is not in debt.” Anger raged across his face. “Enough of this. We’re leaving for Croston in the morning, and I haven’t had time to prepare.”

      “You may go to Croston,” she told him stonily. “Anne and I shall stay here. In a few days, after she’s recovered from the journey, we will return to Dunscore.”

      “You will do nothing of the kind.”

      “I make my own decisions, Captain. I am the countess of Dunscore.”

      He jabbed his finger at her. “You are my wife.”

      The words struck like blows. “Yes,” she said. “And you managed it with deceit as your grappling hook and lies as your cannon fire.” The pressure in her chest and belly ached so badly she nearly doubled over with it. It hurt to look at him. “I’ve been taken captive before, Captain. I may not be able to escape, but this time I will have my captivity on my own terms.”

       CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

      “MOVE OUT!” PHIL exclaimed the next morning, as Katherine’s coach trundled toward Madame Bouchard’s. The sunshine had burned off the mist, and its rays glared through the windowpanes. “You’ll be responsible for sore tongues all across London.”

      “Let them talk till their tongues fall out, for all I care.” Katherine shook out the old coat Dodd had found in the attic—Grandfather’s, most likely—and held it up. “It won’t stop me from attending the masquerade, which you said yourself is the most important event of the Season. I’m envisioning a pair of breeches in beige silk. Nude beige.”

      “Katherine...”

      “And something very scanty on the top.” Phil didn’t respond. She would go to the masquerade alone, and why not? Let James see what their marriage meant to her now that she’d learned of his betrayal—and his lack of remorse.

      “The swine,” Phil muttered, as if reading Katherine’s mind.

      “Thank

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