A Kiss at Midnight

Page 19

Henry put her empty glass down. “That doesn’t sound right, Katherine. Are you a Katherine? Somehow it doesn’t quite suit you, any more than Victoria did.”
“My father called me Kate.”
“Brilliant. Of course. So what’s this nonsense about your dowry, and while we’re at it, what’s happened to you? I’ve just worked out that you must be at least twenty-three, so why aren’t you already settled with two or three squalling brats on your knee? Your wishes are modest enough, and you’re beautiful.”
Kate finished her glass. “As I told you, my father married again, but he died shortly thereafter. And he left all his money to his new wife.”
“That’s just the kind of stupid thing that Victor would have done. Probably neglected to make a will. But his estate was beans . . . nothing compared to your mother’s.”
Kate’s mouth fell open. “What?”
Henry had a sleepy kind of smile, but her eyes shone. “He never told you?”
“Told me what?”
“Your mother was an heiress. Your grandfather wanted her married, so he bought your father, and he . . . well, I’m afraid that Victor wanted her guineas.”
“He must have spent it,” Kate said, deflating. “Because I have only a very small income from my mother. If he didn’t spend it, my stepmother would have.”
“I don’t know,” Henry said dubiously. “How would she get her hands on that money? I vaguely remember Victor complaining that he couldn’t touch it. I’ll have Leo look into it.”
“Even if Mariana took it illicitly,” Kate said, “I couldn’t do anything about it. I don’t like her, but—”
“Well,” Henry said, interrupting, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?”
“Your father gave you to me, Kate. And though I was ungrateful for the present at the time, I feel differently now.” Henry reached forward and put a hand on Kate’s cheek, for just a second. “I’d like to try being a proper godmother to you, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Kate’s vision blurred again. “I would be most honored.”
“Good!” she said, standing up. “Now you must run off because I’ve learned that if I don’t have my beauty sleep I’m a total beast in the morning. There’s nothing wrong with that, but since Leo is downstairs drinking brandy, it would make two of us. And that’s two more than this castle can bear.”
Kate stood up too and then hesitated for a second.
“Come here,” Henry said gruffly, and held out her arms.
Kate’s mother had been rail-thin and smelled like lemons; Henry was curvy and smelled like French perfume.
But for the first time since her mother died, Kate felt safe.
Thirteen
W hen Kate got back to her room she eyed the cord that would summon Rosalie to prepare her for bed, but she didn’t feel sleepy in the least.
Images were jumping through her mind, memories of her mother’s wistful face at the sight of her father, of her father’s polite courtesy toward his wife. Could it be that he was still in love with Henry? Or did he then fall in love with Mariana?
Her heart felt wrenched between her mother’s sadness and Henry’s, between the romance of young love and irritation at her father for allowing himself to be bought.
Finally she decided to take the dogs out for a walk. She calmed Caesar by fixing her eye on him, and then gave him a cheese bit once he stopped barking.
The great drawing room was still blazing with light as she entered the inner courtyard, the dogs pulling ahead. She walked the other direction, stumbling across the cobblestones.
The outer courtyard was only dimly lit, but there seemed to be a set of large cages lined up against the wall. The dogs were straining at their leashes, so she remembered Cherryderry’s advice and stopped walking until they calmed down. Then she gave them a round of cheese, and this time they stayed quite politely at her side.
“If you’re good,” she told them, “I’ll bring you into company tomorrow.” She had to do that in any case; Victoria had carried those dogs with her everywhere, and Mariana considered the dogs to be an essential part of her disguise.
They all looked up at her the moment she spoke. She was getting a bit fond of them, especially of Freddie. He was afraid of everything from a random fly to a dark shadow, but bravery is not a required virtue for dogs. Plus he was very nice to sleep with.
The cages were frightfully large. Light from the single lantern hanging on a hook on the wall didn’t reach past the bars. The dogs stopped short of the first cage, sniffing intently at the dark enclosure. Kate peered inside, but couldn’t see anything. There was a rather fierce smell, though.
“What on earth would a prince keep in a cage?” she said out loud. Caesar gave a little woof in reply, but kept his eyes focused on the cage. Freddie was huddled against her leg, showing no inclination to learn more. She reached up toward the lantern—when a big hand reached over hers and took it first.
“Who’s—oh!” She swallowed the word in a squeak. It was the prince himself, looking even more sulky and brooding in the wavering light from the lantern. His unruly hair was falling out of its ribbon and his mouth looked haughty. Thin-lipped, she told herself, raising her chin. Everyone knew royals were inbred.
“I keep a lion in this cage,” the prince said, matter-of-factly. “There’s an elephant over there, with her companion, a monkey. And there was an ostrich, but we moved her into the orchards along with some Himalayan goats.” He raised the lantern, and Kate saw a slumbering form in the back of the cage. As the light fell on it, one contemptuous eye opened, and the lion yawned, showing off rows of efficient-looking teeth.
“ Teeth isn’t really the right word for those,” she observed.
“Fangs,” the prince said with satisfaction.
The lion closed his eyes again, as if his observers were too boring to contemplate. Kate realized that Freddie was trembling against her ankle, and even Caesar had moved behind her, showing the first sign of real intelligence he’d displayed since she met him.
“You’d better keep those dogs out of the cage,” the prince remarked. “The lion threw up all day yesterday after eating my uncle’s dog.”
“Not the pickle-eating dog?” Kate said. “What a shame. Your uncle told me that he is quite convinced his dog will return soon.”
“Would you, given that diet?”
“It wouldn’t make me leap into a lion’s cage,” she pointed out.
“I doubt anything would make you so reckless.”
That was the kind of comment she hated because it implied something about her personality—but what exactly? She certainly wasn’t going to ask Prince High-and-Mighty himself for elucidation, so she just walked off in the direction of the elephant’s cage.
He followed her with the lantern. “The elephant’s name is Lyssa. She’s too big for the cage, so we’re making her a pen in the orchard. But if we put her out there, her monkey might run away.”
The monkey was sleeping at the elephant’s feet, one long arm curved around her leg. “I doubt it. It looks like love to me.”