A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(24)
Author: Tessa Dare

Aunt Marmoset lifted her brows. “We don’t talk about Claire.”

“To the contrary,” Lord Drewe said from behind his paper. “You all talk about Claire a great deal. I refuse to join the discussion.”

“Because you prefer seething,” said Harry.

“Because it’s not kind to speak ill of the dead.” The tone of his voice told everyone the conversation was finished. A snap of newspaper served as punctuation.

The ensuing silence was awkward.

“Oh, dear,” said Lark. “I was hoping to avoid it. But Harry, I think you had better acquaint Miss Taylor with the truth.”

The truth?

“What is the truth?” Kate asked. Her heart pounded in her chest. Perhaps Thorne was right, and they’d been hiding something from her.

Harry put away all her ink and paper. “The truth is . . . as aristocratic families go, we Gramercys aren’t what you might call—”

“Civilized,” Aunt Marmoset suggested.

“Typical,” Harry finished. “It goes back to our childhood, I think. We spent the entirety of it up North, at Rook’s Fell. Enormous old place, more cobweb than mortar in its walls. Our father suffered with a very prolonged, debilitating illness, and our mother was devoted to his care. The servants couldn’t make us mind, and no thought was ever given to school. No one expected Evan would inherit the title, of course. It was to stay in your father’s line. So we simply ran wild, like vines in a neglected garden. Until Aunt Marmoset came to mind us, and even then it was too late for us older ones. Except for dear, sweet Lark there, we’ve all of us grown up twisted in some way.”

“Twisted?” Lark echoed. “Harry, you do make it sound so perverse.”

“If Kate is to associate with us, she should know. The plain fact of it is, we are not really ‘good society.’ But we are obscenely rich, highly ranked, and so utterly fascinating the ton cannot look away.”

“That’s going to change,” Lord Drewe said. “The ‘good society’ part. I am determined that Lark will have the debut she deserves. I have failed twice to bring out my sisters with any success. Harriet’s season was an unmitigated debacle.”

“Only if you judge by Society’s standards.”

“That is the entire point of a season. To be judged by Society’s standards. And by the end of your season, we were not only judged by Society, but convicted, sentenced, pilloried, and exiled for the better part of a decade.” Lord Drewe folded his papers, set them aside and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Calista never even made it to London.”

“She didn’t want to,” Lark said. To Kate, she explained, “She fell in love with Mr. Parker, the stable master. Now they live together at Rook’s Fell, and we cleared out this summer to give them run of the place. Calista always did love horses, and she and Parker have turned their efforts to breeding.”

Aunt Marmoset tittered with laughter. Kate tried not to join her.

“What?” Lark looked around, bemused. “What have I said now?”

“Nothing,” Harry assured her. “Do not think on it, chicken. You are everything good and pure, that’s all.”

Lark turned to Kate and gave her an uncertain smile. “There you have it. To be a Gramercy is to be embroiled in one scandal after another, it seems. Do you despise us already? Do you want us to leave?”

“Not at all.” She looked around the room. “I’m so happy, I can’t tell you. I’m delighted that you’re not fusty and proper, or I don’t know how I’d ever fit in. I’m in heaven just sitting here, listening to you talk and tease and turn the pages of your newspapers. You can’t know what a pleasure it is for me, to be in the presence of a family. Any family.”

“We are not just any family,” Lark said. “We may be your family.”

“If you’ll have us,” Harry said. “I shouldn’t blame you if you won’t.”

Kate looked around at their earnestly hopeful faces. “In all my life, there’s never been anything I wanted more.”

But as she spoke the words, they had the faintly acid taste of a lie. Earlier that day, she’d craved a man’s touch with a fierce, primal intensity. She’d wanted it more than comfort, more than family. More than breath. Beneath her skin, her muscles still yearned and ached.

She closed her eyes and willed the forbidden feelings away. “I only wish there was some way we could be certain.”

“I’ve begun inquiries,” Lord Drewe said. “I’ve already sent letters directing my man of business to Margate, to see what he can stir up there. We’re also exploring other avenues.”

“I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that you might . . . remember something?” Lark asked. “I don’t want to pressure you, but we thought that perhaps after seeing the portrait and being around our family, some forgotten detail might shake loose.”

“Perhaps it will in time. But truly, I have so few memories.” Kate let her eyes go unfocused. “I’ve tried, so many times, to recall. It’s as though I’m traveling down a dark, endless corridor, and my past is at the end of it. And I know . . . I just know . . . if I could open the door at the end of that corridor, I’d remember everything. But I never quite get there. I only hear pianoforte music, and I have some memory of the color blue.”

“Perhaps it’s the pendant,” Lark said. She fetched the portrait from the mantelpiece. “The one about her neck, see?”

Kate looked closely. She’d noticed the pendant before—but in the dark last night, it had appeared to be black. Now she could see that it was actually a deep, almost indigo blue. Too dark to be a sapphire. Perhaps lapis?

She lifted her head, excited. “I suppose that could be the blue I recall. Especially if my mother wore it always.”

“She must have done,” said Harry. “She even wore it when she wore nothing at all.”

Kate startled. “Oh. And there’s a little song. A song about flowers.”

She sang it all the way through for them, beginning with, “See the garden of blossoms so fair . . .”

“It’s been lodged in my memory all my life, but in all my years of teaching music, I’ve never met anyone else who knew that song. I always fancied my mother sang it to me. Is it familiar to any of you?”

The Gramercys shook their heads.