Page 88 of The Good Girl's Guide to Rakes
“You didn’t tell me the thief’s name.”
“If I’d peached, you would’ve skewered them on the spire of St. Dunstan’s. You pounded on each door, looking for them.”
“Everyone on the block was shitting themselves in fear.” He chuckled darkly. “Wound up with my pockets full of buttons and baubles they threw at me.”
“Attempts to appease the avenger of Ratcliff.”
“Never did find the thief—but someone left the ribbon for me on a stoop, and I brought it home to you.”
“I still have it,” she admitted. “It’s in a box with that hair comb Da gave Ma for her birthday.”
He nodded and gave a tiny, sad smile, and her heart lodged firmly in her throat.
She couldn’t have Kieran, and would have to endure a lifetime without him—to protect Dom, just as he’d always protected her. But a poisoned thorn of resentment lodged in her heart. Without her consent, she’d been tasked with upholding her family’s social status, and because of Dom’s spectacularly poor judgment in jilting Willa, Celeste paid the price.
It hardly seemed fair. But who had promised her fairness?
“A toast,” she said, lifting her glass.
He looked at her dubiously. “What are we toasting?”
“You and me. Every material thing we might desire is ours for the taking, and yet we still suffer, unable to share our burdens, alone in our anguish.”
Raising his glass, he said, “To us. The cursed Kilburns.”
They drank in silence.
Chapter 21
The conversation in Lord Hempnall’s dining room bubbled as effervescently as the sparkling wine circulating the table. Esteemed guests supped upon fine food, prepared by the host’s Continental cook, and Kieran had caught the daughter of a marquess casting curious but interested glances in his direction.
Kieran sat in the chair that, a month ago, wouldn’t have been made available to him, surrounded by the respectable people his family so desperately wanted him to be a part of, receiving the welcome that should have been the fulfillment of his desires.
“Are you not enjoying your grouse, Mr. Kilburn?” Mrs. Cadleigh said from her place beside him. She eyed his plate, which was almost completely untouched.
He nearly bit back a retort that he had a mother, thank you very much, and didn’t need anyone to remind him to eat.
“It’s excellent,” he said with a semblance of politeness, “but my luncheon was woefully substantial,unfortunately leaving me with too small an appetite to enjoy this superb meal.”
Jesus.He nearly gagged at the obsequiousness in his own words.
And why did it have to be so damnedbrightin here? Did Lord Hempnall have a surfeit of candles that needed burning? Everyone’s faces resembled elegant ghouls—no doubt he looked just as grotesque.
“After dinner,” the host announced, “our gathering will grow. I’ve invited more to join us for music and dancing. It should be a capital evening.”
“How delightful,” Kieran muttered. Perhaps then he might be able to make his escape, slipping out with the influx of new guests.
Where was Celeste now? God, he burned to go to her. Yet that wasn’t possible, and so he brooded through the remainder of the meal, barely speaking to anyone unless directly addressed. Doubtless he was undoing the hard work Celeste had done to rehabilitate his reputation, but it was hard to give a damn when Celeste herself was miserable.
If only he could beat Lord Montford senseless. Yet retribution had its costs, and he’d more than himself to think about. There was Finn, and Dom, too.
Goddamned ethics complicating everything.
At last, the meal concluded, but because more guests were expected to join the gathering, the after-dinner cheroots and brandy were curtailed and everyone went upstairs to the drawing room. Lord Hempnall’s wife took her place behind the pianoforte while the others sat on sofas arranged around the room just as the newcomers began filtering into the chamber.
Kieran stood with a glass of port, attempting to determine when and how he could best make his escape. Perhaps he could light a small fire and, in the chaos, slip out.
Just then, Celeste stepped into the drawing room, and all thoughts of flight scattered.
