His lips twisted in a sneer. 'No? Did I not just hear Viscount Langley make you an offer of marriage? Really, my dear, it would be quite rude of you not to answer.'
She swallowed, and Bainbridge could see the rapid flutter of her pulse in the base of her throat. She licked her dry lips, then turned to the viscount. 'You do me a very great honor, my lord, but I cannot accept your proposal.'
The viscount straightened his shoulders and bowed to her. 'I understand, Mrs. Mallory, even though I am disappointed. I hope you will still consider me your very great friend.' The man shot a fulminating glare in Bainbridge's direction.
Good God. Never before had the marquess felt such a strong urge to plant his fist in another man's face. He wanted nothing more than to eradicate Langley by any means necessary, to extinguish his presence from the face of the earth.
'Thank you, Lord Langley,' Kit replied. A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth. 'If you will excuse me, I must speak with Lord Bainbridge.'
'I shall be here if you need me,' replied the viscount with an impassioned look.
'You had better go, Langley,' Bainbridge heard himself growl. 'The streets of Bath can be dangerous after dark.'
Lord Langley stiffened, bowed to them both, then turned on his heel and strode down Alfred Street to his waiting carriage.
Kit turned to him with anguished eyes. 'Oh, Nicholas, I feared you would not come.'
'It did not appear so to me,' he replied. A muscle twitched at his temple.
Laughter sounded from the vestibule of the Assembly Rooms, and she flinched. 'Would you take me home?'
Without a word, he offered Kit his arm and walked with her to his own coach. He helped her into the carriage, gave her direction to the driver, then levered himself onto the bench opposite her.
She sat in silence, staring out the coach window, her eyes bright with unshed tears. Something had upset her-his untimely interruption, perhaps? He flexed his fingers until his gloves strained across his knuckles. He had no idea Langley meant so much to her. All this talk of trust, their bargain, meant nothing.
'I… I must tell you something, my lord,' she wavered. Still she could not look at him. A single tear tracked a silvery trail down her cheek.
He offered her his handkerchief, taking care that he did not touch her. If he touched her, he would be lost. 'Is it about Langley? Do you love him?'
Her head snapped around; the softer curls at her temples swayed with the movement. 'No!' she exclaimed. Her nostrils flared. 'Why would you think that?'
Bainbridge quirked an eyebrow. 'The man proposed marriage to you in the middle of the street. What else should I think?'
She lowered her head, but not before he noticed the way her lips trembled. 'No. I do not love him.'
'What, then?'
A second tear followed the first. 'I discovered earlier today that a vicious rumor about the two of us has been circulating through society.'
'A rumor? What sort of rumor?' Doubt tinged his voice.
Kit swiped at her tears. 'That I am your mistress.'
He leaned back against the squabs, his eyes narrowed. 'Lucifer's beard. Kit, I had nothing to do with that.'
She smiled, but the gesture held no mirth. 'I know, my lord. I had my doubts at first, but tonight I discovered that Lady Elizabeth Peverell is behind it all.'
'Lady Elizabeth,' he echoed, lips curled in disgust. 'I thought she was in London.'
Kit shook her head. 'No, her father sent her to Bath to stay with her aunt. As it happens, her aunt is Lady Peterborough, one of Bath's most renowned gossipmongers.'
He winced. 'And she was only too happy to besmirch our reputations.'
She glared at him. 'Your reputation may survive this, my lord, but mine will not. I have never had people give me the cut direct, even when I was married to a Cit. Tonight I have been the target of more cruel and unkind remarks than I wish to count, and I know enough about society to realize that this sort of thing does not diminish over time. I am ruined, my lord. Undone. Dished up.'
'And Langley was comforting you.' He made it a statement, not a question.
'He was one of the few who dared to stand by me!' she protested. 'You were not here, Nicholas-what was I supposed to do?'
'You could have dissuaded him.'
'He is my friend!'
Bainbridge's mouth tightened. 'And might I also presume that this 'friend' was the one who first suggested I might be behind these rumors?'
'Well, yes, but-'
'I'm going to ask you again, Kit, and this time I want the truth. Are you in love with Viscount Langley?'
'Why do you keep asking me this?' she cried. 'How many times must I tell you that no, I am not?'
'Until I believe you,' he said flatly.
She paled.
'What would you have me think, Kit?' he demanded. He folded his arms across his chest. 'The man flatters and pays court to you all week, while I struggle to keep you at arm's length in order to gain your trust. The moment I leave town this rumor pops up, and he very conveniently makes himself available to comfort you.'
'I told you. He is a friend; nothing more.'
'Stop being so naive. Men-gentlemen, at any rate-do not form friendships with ladies. The man is a gazetted fortune hunter, Kit. He wants your money.'
'But I have no great fortune.'
'You have more than he does.'
'I do not love him,' she insisted.
'Then why did it look like you were about to accept his proposal when I arrived?'
She glared at him, suppressed a sob, and turned away.
God's teeth, he'd made her cry. The marquess shoved a hand through his hair. All he wanted to do was reach out and pull her into his lap, to cradle her against his chest, to hold her and murmur that everything would be all right. But he couldn't. It was as if a cold fist gripped his heart and squeezed it.
She wiped her eyes again, then swallowed hard. 'This has been a misunderstanding, Nicholas. Please, let us not quarrel like this.'
The carriage came to a halt at Camden Place; the footman opened the door for them.
Trust. His quest to win her trust had sent him out of town at dawn this morning. It had kept him from touching her all week. But trust cut both ways; only now did he realize how much he had taken that for granted.
Kit had made it clear that she needed to trust him. He had every right to ask the same of her. But right now, he wasn't sure he could.
She had not made too great a point of it, but she had admitted that when the scandalous rumor first reached her ears, she had thought him capable of creating it for his own ends. Selfish he had been, yes, but never would he lower himself to do something so utterly ruthless. He preferred his women willing, not blackmailed. The fact that she had even considered such a thing cut him to the quick.
He levered himself through the carriage door, then without thinking offered his hand to her. She took it and descended gingerly from the coach.
He could feel her warmth through his gloves, smell her exotic sandalwood perfume as it rose from her skin. Her hair gleamed soft gold in the moonlight.
His fingers convulsed over hers.
'Kit.' He held on to her hand to prevent her from climbing the townhouse stairs.
She turned, hesitant. 'Nicholas?'
God help him, the way she said his name made his heart turn somersaults. If only he didn't have to do this-
