She gestured at the closed door. “What happens, now, to the letter, and Miss Willory?”
“Mr. Laury will trail Miss Willory. The letter will be confiscated, its intended recipient apprehended. Miss Willory will likely be exiled.”
“And her family?”
“They may join her, if they like.”
Kate was quiet a moment before speaking. “She did this to save them.”
“You feel badly for her?”
She looked down and fiddled with the tie of her wrap. “You told me there are some things people will do anything to keep. Miss Willory wants to keep her family solvent. It may not be a noble cause, but she’s never known another life. I imagine she feels she had no other choice.”
“She did.” There were times a person found himself completely out of choices, he knew. But this was not one of those times. “She had other options. More than most.”
“Yes, I know.” She blew out a short breath. “The smuggling…that is why she did those things. Broke the piano bench, encouraged Mr. Potsbottom, and sabotaged my tack. She was afraid Lord Martin would tell me of the smuggling.”
Hunter ground his teeth. “I find my limited sympathy has flagged.”
She smiled a little at that. “What of Lord Martin?”
“I suspect his punishment will be minor, given that he appears to be innocent of treason in his intentions. But it’s up to William.”
She nodded and went back to thoughtfully toying with her wrap. It was a long and flowing concoction of ivory, covering her from neck to toe. He wanted to reach out to pull the tie loose and slide the material from her shoulders. Then he wanted to loosen the thick braid of pale hair that fell down her back and use handfuls of it to pull her in for a kiss. But more than that, he wanted to have the conversation he’d asked her for in the parlor.
The idea of it brought on a sudden and unexpected case of nerves. Excitement, he corrected, he was excited. It was anticipation that had him stalling. He was within moments of seeing his plan come to fruition. He was within minutes of acquiring the hand of Lady Kate Cole.
Only she’d ceased, at some point, to be just another, or even the ultimate, acquisition for him. He couldn’t put his finger on when it had happened, or how it had happened. He only knew that it had. There was no denying the terror he’d felt when he’d seen her horse charge toward the bluffs, nor the staggering relief that had washed over him when he’d pulled her safely into his arms.
He was attached to Kate, there could be no mistake. Which was not to be confused with in love with her. She was important to him, and it followed that her well-being was of concern to him, but he was not in love. He would never be in love.
But perhaps it was best he felt more for her than he allowed himself to feel for others. She was to be his wife, after all. A man ought to feel a little bit…well, more for his wife. He intended to feel more for any children they might have. Not too much—children had the unfortunate characteristic of being small and fragile—but certainly more than he did, say, his cook. That was only natural.
Moreover, Kate was of a romantic bent. She’d want something other than mild interest from her spouse. She’d be unhappy without it. She was too sensible and too much a member of the ton to refuse an offer of marriage now that he’d taken her innocence, but she’d not be happy in their union without some level of affection. And it had been his plan from the very start to make her happy. What good was acquiring a rare jewel and then showcasing to the world that one wasn’t capable of properly caring for it?
Only he wasn’t acquiring her, he reminded himself, because she wasn’t an acquisition.
He resisted the urge to drag a hand through his hair. The whole business of trying to figure through what Kate was, and was not, to him made him uncomfortable. Which is why he shoved it aside.
He liked her very much. They would marry. He would make her happy. That was quite enough figuring through.
He cleared his throat. “I’d like the private audience I requested from you last night, Kate.”
Kate looked up, her blue eyes rounding. “What? Now?”
“Yes. Why not?”
“Because,” she replied, as if the answer were patently obvious. “I’m in my night rail.”