Always a Lady by Rebecca Hagan Lee

Author:Rebecca Hagan Lee
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Friendships multiply Joys and divide Griefs.

—THOMAS FULLER, 1654–1734

“That’s enough, Kit!”

Kit turned to find Ash standing in the doorway to the dining room with Dalton and Ford at his back.

“How the devil do you know what’s enough?” Kit lashed out. “And what do you know about it anyway? You’re my friend, not my bloody father!” He looked at Ash. “Of that, I’m certain.”

“Have you been drinking?” Ash asked incredulously.

Kit shook his head. “Not yet, but it sounds like a fine way to conclude what’s become one bitch of a day.” He looked around for a drinks table.

“I beg your pardon, ladies,” Dalton acknowledged the mixed company before nodding to the butler. “Ford, make arrangements for Madame and her assistants to spend the night.”

“Very good, sir.” Ford bowed, then withdrew to speak to the dressmaker.

Dalton waited until the butler and the dressmaker were out of earshot before continuing in a fierce whisper. “Blast it all, Kit! What the devil is going on here? We haven’t seen you all day. When we left you last night, you were scribbling a letter to your father and planning to attend church this morning. Where the blazes have you been?”

“Mind your own business!” Kit shot back.

“This is our business,” Ash retorted. “We’re your friends. If we don’t tell you when you’re acting like a horse’s arse, who will?” He walked over to Kit, gripped his arm, and hustled him out of the salon, up the stairs to the second-floor study. Ash opened the door, shoved Kit inside and onto one of the leather chairs.

Dalton followed, closing the door behind him, twisting the key in the lock, and leaning with his back against the door for good measure.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Kit gave Ash a bone-chillingly cold stare. “This is my house.”

Ash wasn’t intimidated by it. “I know precisely who I am,” Ash replied. “I’m the ninth marquess of Everleigh. I outrank you. And I’m exercising my prerogative to make myself at home. The question is: Who the hell do you think you are to treat a lady and a shopkeeper in that manner? What’s the matter, Kit? What happened to put this kind of burr up your arse?”

Kit propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He leaned forward in his chair, and his shoulders began to shake.

Ash and Dalton exchanged looks. They didn’t know whether Kit was laughing or crying, and they found the idea of him doing either horrifying.

Kit sat up.

He was laughing. But it was laughter born of pain and confusion. “Well, Lord Everleigh, you always hit the nail on the head. That is the big question of the day. Who the hell do I think I am? Christ! I wish I knew!”

He hadn’t meant to spill his guts to his friends, but before Kit knew what was happening, he’d related his conversation with the parish priest to Ash and Dalton. “What have you heard?”

Dalton sighed. “We’ve heard the same rumors you’ve heard.”

“Kit,” Ash said gently, “this can’t have come as a complete surprise.

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