A wave of guilt washed over him. “I’m willing to take you anywhere,” he said quietly, coming around to face her.
She had no reason to attend the wedding, and he needed to tell her so—soon. His moment of reckoning couldn’t be postponed much longer.
Scarborough’s red-brick town house loomed behind her, reminding him that he’d be bringing her to his own town house next—and then she’d discover the truth. How much longer could he hold her affections? Before she could see the trepidation in his eyes, he yanked her to him for a kiss, right there in the lane.
A charming little yelp of surprise escaped her throat. His lips clung to hers for a long, melting, desperate moment, a moment so sweet it made him ache, knowing he wouldn’t get to kiss her many more times. Knowing he had to hurt her.
Their time was coming to an end. He had to explain that her beloved brother was dead and he was to blame for it, shattering whatever fledgling love she might feel for him. He ought to pray her feelings weren’t strong, that her heart would emerge relatively unscathed—although his certainly would not. Surely learning she’d never cared much for him would be better than seeing her heartbroken.
But it didn’t seem better.
One more day. Despair made him grasp at the thought—he could keep her for one last day. A day remained, and a night too, before her brother was expected in town.
It would be the most bittersweet day of his life, but for her it would be the most magical. He would make it so, no matter the cost to him personally. Before he confessed the truth and drove her away forever, he would give her one good memory of him to take with her.
He broke the kiss. “Cait, I…”
“Hmm?” Her eyes were a glazey blue. Such trusting tenderness shone from their depths.
A weight settled in his chest.
The time had arrived to come clean with it all. Part of the truth she would learn today, and the rest—the painful part—in the morning.
With effort, he mustered a grin. “As I said, sweet, I’d love to take you anywhere. Would you like to attend a ball tonight?”
Her face brightened with a spark of excitement. “A ball? A London ball? I never thought…” Her eyes narrowed. “How do you know there’s a ball tonight?”
“There’s a ball in London every night,” he said dryly.
“And you can gain entrance?”
Her skepticism prompted a smile. “I think I can manage to get us in.”
“Aye,” she said so slowly he could almost see the gears turning in her head. Her gaze swept over what she doubtless considered his nobleman’s costume. “That maidservant assumed you were a lord. You’re a master of disguises,” she proclaimed with a grin. “It would be a grand adventure. An impulsive, grand adventure. Am I making you impulsive, Jase?” Her eyes sparkled turquoise, the shade he’d decided meant she was happy.
If only he could keep her so.
“And Adam might be at a ball. He must be in town already.” Glancing down at her now-bedraggled gown, she lost some of the sparkle. “I’ve nothing clean enough to wear.”
“My sister keeps gowns at our town house. One of them should fit you well enough.”
“You have a town house?” Her eyes clouded with confusion. “But—”
He distracted her with a big, smacking kiss, then took her by the hand. “Yes, I have a house here in town. Come along, and I’ll show you.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
“I’VE NEVER seen so many people!” As Caithren and Jason jostled their horses through the teeming streets, she found herself astonished at the city called London. It seemed to sprawl forever, building after building crammed together. The streets were clogged with animals, vehicles, and pedestrians. Gaudy signboards hung overhead from heavy wrought-iron brackets, appearing to block the air and the sun.
“London stinks,” she added. “And it’s so noisy!”
Street vendors cried their wares from every corner and in between, making mundane goods like matches, rat poison, and razors sound colorful and exciting. Customers clustered to purchase eatables and drinkables of every sort from the criers’ laden barrows. In a span of less than a minute, Cait’s ears were assaulted with invitations to buy hot eels, pickled whelks, asses’ milk, and a singing bird. In the midst of the deafening hubbub, performers danced on stilts to the beat of tambourines.
Above it all, she heard a man singing lustily to a gathering. Dazed, she stopped to listen. “What is he doing?” she asked when Jason noticed she was missing and rode back to her.
“Teaching them new tunes. He’s a ballad seller.” A carriage squeezed by, nudging his horse up against hers. “When he’s finished, they’ll buy sheets with the words for half a pence.”
Caithren was amazed. Songs were old, passed down through the generations. She couldn’t remember ever hearing a new song. “What if they cannot read?”
“Then they’ll memorize the words. Running patterers sing news ballads to report murders and executions. But this fellow is selling the latest popular songs.”
A flower girl strolled by with a basket over one arm, reciting a list of her posies in singsong rhyme. Bewildered, Cait shook her head. “How can anyone think in this city, with this din? Does anyone get anything done?”
Jason laughed, and they rode on, weaving through the tumult. She followed him around a corner and onto a street bordering a busy parkland. When he stopped before a large, four-story brick house, she was confused. “Is he tired?”
“Who?”
“Hamish. Your horse. Why are we stopping?” Looking around, she glimpsed a vendor hawking fat brown sausages in the grassy square across the street. “Oh, of course. You’re hungry.”
Jason laughed again. “We had breakfast not two hours ago.” He slid off his horse and lifted his arms to help Caithren down from hers. “No, I’m not hungry.” His hands still resting lightly at her waist, he took a deep breath. “I…have something to explain to you.”
She
