Page 73 of Gambling with the Earl
All of Kitty’s newfound courage faded away. “I am too late.” Her voice trembled as emotion threatened to overwhelm her.
“No, never.” Rosalind shook her head violently, her golden hair shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. “There is always a way.”
Kitty knew a swell of envy at her younger sister, secure in a loving relationship and buoyed up with hope for the future.
“I am tired, Rosalind,” she said, feeling it in every bone of her body. Though the gown she wore was beautiful, the restrictive bodice nipped her flesh and made her back ache. The skirts were heavy and her hair was tight against her scalp. She’d made herself into a lady for naught.
“The earl’s boathouse,” her sister exclaimed, tugging at her hand. “Let’s ask there.”
Shame gathered in her belly. “I couldn’t,” she hissed.
“Why not?” Rosalind raised her eyebrows. “You do know, you were onlypretendingto be a servant?”
Kitty shook her head, unable to articulate her reluctance, but Rosalind would not be dissuaded. She knocked at the small wooden door of the boathouse, then pushed it open without waiting for a response. Both of them blinked at the sudden gloom after the bright sunshine outside.
“I take orders from none but the Earl of Rossfarne,” a deep, male voice boomed from inside the boathouse.
“The Earl of Rossfarne is a personal friend of my sister’s,” Rosalind declared, making Kitty wince with embarrassment. “She wishes to go across to the castle.”
A tall, dark-haired man came into view. He was wiping his hands on an oily cloth and regarding them appraisingly. Behind him, Kitty could just make out a shingle track down to the sea and the sleek rowing boat adorned with the earl’s coat of arms. The sight of it took her back to that dreadful night in the parlour and conversely, gave her a boost of courage. She had learned a lot since then.
She straightened her back and met the man’s enquiring gaze. “That is correct.”
The boatman shook his head. “I’ve heard nothing from the earl.”
She inclined her head. “He is not expecting me.”
“Well then.” He threw the oily rag onto a pile and turned his back on them.
“Do you not know who you are speaking to?” Rosalind demanded imperiously.
“As I said, I take orders from none but the earl.”
Rosalind went to speak up again, but Kitty held her back. She cleared her throat. “I may not be expected at the castle, but I will be welcomed there nonetheless.”
“Is that so?” He turned to face her and instead of flinching beneath his condescension, she stood taller. Her dress may be unfamiliar and uncomfortable, but it was exquisitely cut from the finest cloth. She would not be cowed by a boatman.
She raised her eyes coolly to his. “I bring news of my uncle, the Duke of Answick.”
The boatman blanched and Kitty channelled as much steely hauteur into her gaze as she could find.
“Very good, my lady,” he acquiesced. “I’ll take you now.”
The boatman hauled the rowing boat down to the shallows, holding her gloved hand while she stepped inside and lowered herself carefully to a wooden bench. Now that this hurdle had been overcome, her stomach clenched with nerves for the ordeal still ahead.
She must face Guy and find a way to make him understand.
The boat rocked as the man clambered in and took up the oars.
“Goodbye, Kitty. Good luck.” Rosalind stood on the shingled beach and waved her white handkerchief, the afternoon sun casting a golden halo around her.
Kitty waved back, wishing her sister could be beside her for this, the most frightening leg of her journey. But deep down, she knew this was something she must do alone.
The oars splashed rhythmically across the tranquil sea, sending a fine shower of spray into the air and taking Kitty back to her time at Rossfarne Castle, when the tang of sea salt was forever on her lips. The boat turned into the cove and she twisted her hands together at the sight of the beach where she had surrendered herself to Guy.
When she’d known heights of pleasure she’d never dreamed of. When she’d willingly given him all she had.
She lowered her head as tears threatened once more. But this was no time to weep. This was her chance to put things right.
