“Killed,” Jason supplied succinctly.
“Um, yes. But I turned Chichester upside down and found a tavern the man had frequented along with two companions. A serving maid overheard the men saying they were going to Lord Darnley’s wedding. Tomorrow, is it not? So we ought to be able to find them there and—say, are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Jason said woodenly, though nothing could be further from the truth.
Tomorrow Cait would learn he’d killed her brother, whether he told her or not.
He should have confessed the minute he’d realized the truth—surely his soul would be the better for it now. But he’d promised her a night to remember, and he wouldn’t ruin it for her just to ease his own anguish.
She’d have her evening of happiness before their world collapsed.
“I thank you for making the inquiries,” he told Ford. “Excellent work.”
“And what of Gothard?” Ford asked.
“Still unresolved. It’s a long tale, best discussed over dinner.” He turned to his sister. “How fares Mary? Is she…”
“Dead? No.” Kendra grinned. “The doctor says it’s a miracle. She’s getting better.”
“Better?” A rush of hope coursed through him. “She awakened?”
“Yes. Her speech is slow, and she couldn’t walk at first; she has trouble walking still. But every day she improves a little. We don’t know if she’ll ever—”
“She’s alive.” Jason made his way to the chair Cait had vacated and dropped onto it. “That’s all that matters.”
Kendra walked over and took his limp hands from his lap. “You feel a responsibility for her, I know. But it wasn’t your fault.” Jason noticed her gaze alight on his own ‘wedding ring’ and hastily rotated it to reveal the Cainewood crest.
“He feels a responsibility for everything.” Cait crossed her arms. “I’ve been trying to cure him of that, to no avail.”
“A worthy project.” Kendra dropped Jason’s hands and went to Cait, a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. “Have you managed to get him to do anything just for the fun of it? Rather than to accomplish some specific goal?”
“Well, we did chase a ghost. And—”
“Cait,” Jason groaned.
“We went to a fair, but that was to buy me some things. And—oh!” She grinned. “He danced with the Gypsies, though not for long.”
“He danced with the Gypsies?” A flash of curiosity crossed Kendra’s face. “I will need to hear more of this.”
Jason rose. “Cait doesn’t have time to gossip with you. We have plans. Kendra, there must be a ball this evening?”
“Lady Carson’s annual affair.” She regarded him with puzzled light green eyes. “But why would you want to know that?”
“Lady Carson’s balls are boring,” Ford put in.
“They are not,” Kendra argued. “And I’ve heard Charles will be in attendance this eve. But why?” she repeated.
“I’ve promised Cait an evening of London entertainment. She’s never been here before. And no,” he added, forestalling her question, “you may not come along.” He frowned at her pout, then realized it would be hours until evening and the ball. Too many hours—too much time for his sister to question Cait. “Perhaps we shall attend the theater first. What is playing at Lincoln’s Inn Fields?”
Kendra brightened. “Dryden’s The Feign’d Innocence. It’s hilarious. Ford and I saw it yesterday, but I’d love to see it again.”
He smiled benignly, deliberately misunderstanding her. “Maybe Ford will take you again tomorrow.”
“I’ve nothing to wear,” Caithren reminded him.
“Oh!” Kendra’s eyes sparkled. “I can take care of that.”
“Choose quickly,” he said, wishing his siblings had stayed tucked away at Cainewood. “We need time for dinner, too.”
“It isn’t even noon yet.” His sister’s smile was all too knowing. “We’ll eat first and hear your long tale. Your Cait will have plenty of time to dress after that.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
KENDRA’S CHAMBER upstairs was a confection of mint green decor. She strode to her carved-oak clothes press, threw the doors open wide, and perused the gowns hung inside on pegs. “Green, blue, purple?” She turned to Caithren. “Which do you fancy?”
“I-I don’t know,” Cait stuttered. “I’ve never been to a ball.”
“No?” Kendra riffled through a few more, then pulled out a gown in a deep, rich rose and held it up to Caithren’s cheek. “Lovely,” she declared, dragging Cait over to a gilt-framed pier glass. “Look.”
Caithren had to admit the hue flattered her complexion, but it was the most elaborate gown she’d ever seen. Gold threads were woven into the fabric in a diamond pattern, and the underskirt was shimmering gold tissue. “I couldn’t possibly wear this,” she breathed, wishing all the while that she could.
Even though it was English.
“Don’t be a goose.” Kendra tossed the gown on her curtained four-poster bed. “Not only can you wear it, you can keep it. I cannot imagine what possessed me to order it. It looks hideous on me with this red hair.” She reached to lift a hank of Caithren’s straight mane. “What beautiful colors. I’d wager you could wear anything with this.”
When she let go, Cait watched in the mirror as the wheaten strands cascaded back to her shoulders. Maybe her hair was pretty, down loose like this. She’d never paid it much attention other than to bind it out of the way.
Kendra smiled at her in the mirror. “I’ll have Jane in to curl it.”
“Jane?” Cait’s voice sounded feeble to her own ears. Too much had happened in the past couple of hours—too many surprises.
Her world was off-kilter.
“Jane is my maidservant.” Leading Cait to a marble-topped dressing table, Kendra sat her down. She pulled open a drawer filled with little boxes and bottles. “But I won’t call her in until after we’ve finished with the cosmetics.”
“Cosmetics?”
“Do you not wear cosmetics in Scotland?”
“Crivvens, nay.” Cait felt as though she’d been spirited to a country even more foreign than England. Perhaps she’d taken a wrong turn and ended up in Sweden. “I’ve got nowhere to wear cosmetics to.”
“What a shame.” Kendra clucked her tongue. “I think you’ll be happier here with Jason.”
“With Jason?” Caithren jumped from the chair. “Whyever would you
