"McAlistair's flexible enough."

"He lacks diplomacy."

The years McAlistair hadn't been an a.s.sa.s.sin, he'd been a hermit. "He does that."

"You'll take the position, then."

"No. I...The offer is..." He dragged a hand down his face. He had no idea what the offer was except astonishing, and unacceptable. "No. I can't do it. I'll not risk..." He wanted to say he'd not risk leaving Kate by staying with the War Department. But he wasn't hers to leave, was he? "I'll not risk it."

"Not so much of a risk, to be honest. The vast majority of it is paperwork." William nudged a stack on his desk, and curled his lip. "b.l.o.o.d.y lot of paperwork. But my Mrs. Summers has insisted she'll not have another husband employed by the War Department. I have promised to retire."

"You're willing to make this sort of sacrifice for her?"

"It's not a sacrifice, to be honest. I've been planning my retirement for some time. But yes, were were it a sacrifice, I would make it, happily, to be with the woman I love." He tilted his head. "I imagine you know something about how it feels to be in love." it a sacrifice, I would make it, happily, to be with the woman I love." He tilted his head. "I imagine you know something about how it feels to be in love."

"I don't," he snapped instinctively.

William snorted derisively. "You b.l.o.o.d.y well do. And saying otherwise won't change the fact. I can see it in your eyes. They're bloodshot."

"I was drunk."

"Bah. You've fallen in love with our Lady Kate." William winced sympathetically. "Hurts a bit, doesn't it? I hadn't expected that, myself."

"Sanctimonious a.s.s and and an idiot." an idiot."

William appeared to ignore him in favor of twisting his lips in thought. "It's worked then."

Forget b.l.o.o.d.ying noses. He was going to strangle the man. "What worked?" worked?"

"Right." William nodded and heaved his put-upon sigh once again. "I cannot adequately express how tired I am of telling this, but..." He heaved yet another sigh. "Almost twenty years ago, the late Duke of Rockeforte tricked me into a deathbed promise. A promise that I have spent a number of years attempting to fulfill."

Again, Hunter wasn't certain he wanted to know. "The nature of this promise?"

"That I help the children of his heart find love." He laughed suddenly. "Your expression is no doubt very near to the one I gave Lord Rockeforte."

"That is the single most preposterous deathbed promise I've ever heard."

"So I thought at the time, and for many years after. Even Lord Bucknam's request to have his sixteen hounds looked after seemed reasonable in comparison. But now...well, it's still d.a.m.ned unreasonable," he admitted. "But Rockeforte wanted happiness for the children he loved, and there's nothing preposterous about that. Kate, as I am sure you have guessed, was one of these children. And you are her match. You may thank me for that at your leisure."

"I could beat you now and get the details later," Hunter growled. "What did you do?"

"Nothing too extreme, I a.s.sure you. I merely exaggerated the possibility of Kate becoming embroiled in the smuggling operation and a.s.signed you to watch over her. Lord Martin was no threat to her. Boy thought he was bringing in a bit of brandy and a love letter over, that's all. No idea Miss Willory was using him to smuggle a message containing the whereabouts of a French saboteur. We've caught them, by the way, Miss Willory and her contact. I'll let Martin's father see to his son."

Hunter spoke around a clenched jaw. "Miss Willory nearly killed Kate by sabotaging her tack in a bid to remove Kate from Lord Martin."

"Whit mentioned that in his letter." William dragged a hand down his face. "No wonder, really, that Whit sought his revenge now. In my defense, I hadn't expected Miss Willory to be involved."

"Whit knew of this...of everything?"

William winced. "Yes, and no. He knew of the matchmaking business. I was less forthcoming with him in regards to the mission. He believed it entirely fabricated."

That certainly explained Whit's reluctance to spend the night on Smuggler's Beach, his surprise at finding actual smugglers, why he'd allowed Kate to attend the house party to begin with, and why Mr. Laury was given orders to keep his mission secret. b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l.

"Who else knew?"

"My Mrs. Summers, Lady Thurston, and the Dowager Lady Thurston, though the last two were less...enthusiastic, shall we say, in my choice of match for Kate."

"Sensible women."

"Cautious women. They don't know you as Whit and I do."

He wasn't going to have a discussion on that topic either. He could barely comprehend the one he was having now. "You do realize your entire ridiculous ruse was utterly pointless? I'd been planning to acquire Kate's hand for some time."

"Some time," William repeated with a roll of his eyes. "h.e.l.l, man, you do overthink things. Can't fathom why you bother, as you always plow straight through the obstacles in your path as if you don't see them. By the look of you, I'd venture to say that strategy mucked things up a bit this time, didn't it?"

"I-"

"Well, I said you were a good man. Never said you weren't an arrogant, shortsighted fool."

"I can't very well be both."

"Certainly, you can. I'm a sanctimonious a.s.s, aren't I? I lied to Whit. Lied to you-planted false evidence so I could use your unique position in society for my own ends, and I feel quite justified in having done so. And yet I am a good man."

He was, in fact. It stunned Hunter to realize it. William Fletcher was a right b.a.s.t.a.r.d-particularly just then, to his mind-and a good man. He was a lying, manipulating, schemer...Who'd spent years fulfilling a promise to a friend, and his whole life in service to his country. Hunter found himself at a loss for words.

William, b.a.s.t.a.r.d that he was, had no difficulty taking the ensuing silence for complete agreement. "Delighted you concur. It's never a good idea to mistake minor imperfections for gross deficiencies of character." He reached for his pen with one hand and pointed to the door with the other. "Now, go smooth over whatever mess you've made with Kate. I want my obligation to the late duke to be at an end."

Still reeling, Hunter tossed his hands up in a combination of disbelief and defeat. "Certain there aren't any other confessions you care to make before I take my leave?"

William looked at the ceiling for a moment as if considering. "No. No, nothing comes to mind."

"You're absolutely sure?"

"Yes, I believe I am quite done."

"Splendid."

Hunter arrived home feeling bewildered, rather discontent, and exceedingly exceedingly annoyed with himself for having let William distract him from the aim of administering a b.l.o.o.d.y nose. Leaving his horse to the care of a groom in the mews, he walked to a side door, scowled at it a moment, then walked round to the front of the house to stand on the sidewalk in the last light of a long summer's day and take a good look at his home. annoyed with himself for having let William distract him from the aim of administering a b.l.o.o.d.y nose. Leaving his horse to the care of a groom in the mews, he walked to a side door, scowled at it a moment, then walked round to the front of the house to stand on the sidewalk in the last light of a long summer's day and take a good look at his home.

Taking up a significant portion of the block, the house was far and away the largest building in the neighborhood. Which was the very reason he'd bought it. In fact, it was the only only reason he'd bought it. He'd wanted the grandest, the most impressive, the most imposing. He'd certainly gotten the last. The house appeared impenetrable, wholly indestructible. Napoleon's army wouldn't be able to beat down the ma.s.sive front doors. reason he'd bought it. He'd wanted the grandest, the most impressive, the most imposing. He'd certainly gotten the last. The house appeared impenetrable, wholly indestructible. Napoleon's army wouldn't be able to beat down the ma.s.sive front doors.

"I don't like it," he announced to absolutely no one. "Don't like a d.a.m.n thing about it."

He didn't like the dark color, didn't care for the top-heavy look of the attic, didn't understand why there were so many chimneys sticking out of the roof. Surely he didn't have that many fireplaces. Why would anyone need that many fireplaces? The house looked like it had the b.l.o.o.d.y pox.

"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but is everything all right?"

"What?" He blinked, lowered his gaze from the roofline and found a maid waiting at the open front door, a concerned expression on her young face. "Yes. Yes, everything's fine, Anne."

Except that everything felt very wrong, he thought darkly, and climbed the steps to follow Anne inside. He absently handed her his gloves and hat, absently declined refreshments from a waiting footman, and then absently returned the greetings of the staff that arrived in the front hall to welcome him home. He had an inordinate number of staff, he realized after a time. Perhaps it was they who used all the fireplaces.

Eventually, when the last had come and gone, he stood there in the gigantic front hall of his colossal, pox-ridden home, and wondered what he was supposed to do with himself.

For the first time in his adult life, he felt utterly devoid of purpose. Which was absolutely ridiculous, he a.s.sured himself. He had his fortune to cultivate, investments to tend, businesses to watch over, and Kate to win back with charm, thoughtful presents, and...b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he must have been stupendously stupendously drunk to have believed that strategy would work. It was the same strategy he'd tried at Pallton House. And what had it gained him? Nothing more than a rejection of his offer of marriage, a magnificent headache, and a nagging ache in his chest. drunk to have believed that strategy would work. It was the same strategy he'd tried at Pallton House. And what had it gained him? Nothing more than a rejection of his offer of marriage, a magnificent headache, and a nagging ache in his chest.

He rubbed at the ache now. It had been there while he'd sobered up, while he'd ridden to London and while he'd spoken to William. But now, with nothing to distract him, it was beginning to spread into the tight ball of pain it had been before he'd drank a vast amount of coffee and gone to London.

Perhaps the key to easing it was simply to distract himself with...with what? His fortune? His investments and businesses? How was that to work when he couldn't scrounge up even an ounce of enthusiasm for the idea?

He couldn't scrounge up an ounce of enthusiasm for anything at the moment. Anything beyond the idea of Kate, who, no doubt, wasn't the least bit enthused by the idea of him.

He could hardly blame her. A little time and the vast amounts of coffee had bought him a small amount of clarity, and with it, an ocean of remorse.

I'm very fond of you.

Like apple tarts.

What the devil had he been thinking? He should have remembered the jest he'd made the night before about apple tarts. He should have remembered a great many things. He should have remembered the novels she read were about love, not just adventure. He should have remembered that her friends and family all had love matches of their own. He should have remembered the way her eyes lit up when she'd watched Evie dance with her husband at Lady Thurston's ball.

But he'd been too focused on acquiring acquiring her. He'd gone after her hand and all it represented in the eyes of society in the same way he'd gone after his fortune, with blind determination. her. He'd gone after her hand and all it represented in the eyes of society in the same way he'd gone after his fortune, with blind determination.

He'd not once, not once once since she'd left Pallton House given a thought to what her hand represented. He no longer cared. She could be a fisherman's daughter, a seamstress, a scullery maid and he wouldn't want her less. He wouldn't miss her less. He wouldn't be less remorseful for having broken her heart. And in breaking, lost it. since she'd left Pallton House given a thought to what her hand represented. He no longer cared. She could be a fisherman's daughter, a seamstress, a scullery maid and he wouldn't want her less. He wouldn't miss her less. He wouldn't be less remorseful for having broken her heart. And in breaking, lost it.

The pain bloomed.

b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, it hurt. Just as it had when he'd lost his parents and cousin. Just as it had when his aunt had turned her back on him. And just as it had when Lizzy had walked away.

Just as it had every other time he'd lost someone he loved.

He squeezed his eyes shut on a groan. "Oh, b.u.g.g.e.r b.u.g.g.e.r it." it."

He loved her. Despite swearing he never would, despite taking every precaution known to man to ensure ensure he never would, he'd fallen deeply, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love. he never would, he'd fallen deeply, hopelessly, and irrevocably in love.

And now he was paying for it, just as he had in the past.

No, that wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. It wasn't anything like what had happened before. Kate wasn't dead, for pity's sake. She'd not walked away to a place or a life unknown. She'd not left, abandoned, or forgotten him. She wouldn't. It wasn't in her nature. Isn't that part of what had drawn him to her in the first place-her absolute loyalty to those she loved?

She'd just...very understandably backed away, a little. And very courageously invited him to follow, he realized, remembering her invitation to risk a visit to Haldon.

This time, it had not been he who'd been willing to beg. It had been he who had turned away.

And this time, he thought with a growing sense of hope and urgency, he wasn't a powerless little boy who didn't know how to make things right again.

"Beggin' your pardon again, sir, but-"

"No." Without turning his head, he jabbed a finger in the direction of Anne's voice. "There will be no more begging."

"Er...Yes, sir. It's only that you've been standing there-"

"Never mind that. I need my coat and gloves. Where...?" He looked around him, uncaring that the grin growing on his face likely made him look a veritable loon. "How the devil do you find anything in this monstrosity?" He turned and jabbed his finger at Anne again. "We're getting a smaller house."

"I...Yes, sir." She backed away slowly. "Very good, sir. I'll just fetch your things, then, shall I?"

"My things, yes," he said distractedly and then called after her as she turned and fled. "And have someone ready my horse!"

He was going to make things right.

CHAPTER Twenty-six

The symphony was done.

Kate sat back in her chair and stared at the piles of paper littering her writing desk.

She'd finally completed it, finally discovered why she'd not been able to complete it before. Anger, grief, and heartache, that's that's what the missing piece of her symphony had needed. She hadn't been able to hear them before, because she hadn't been able to feel them. Well, not feeling them had ceased to be an impediment. She'd felt all of them and more during the return trip from Pallton House. She'd felt as if she would drown in them. what the missing piece of her symphony had needed. She hadn't been able to hear them before, because she hadn't been able to feel them. Well, not feeling them had ceased to be an impediment. She'd felt all of them and more during the return trip from Pallton House. She'd felt as if she would drown in them.

Desperate to do something, anything really, with those feelings besides besides drown in them, she'd gone to her room the moment she'd arrived at Haldon, pulled out her supplies, and begun to compose. She'd worked until her eyes burned and her fingers cramped, until the red light of dawn filtered through her window and grew until the gold light of early day. And then she'd eaten, slept for a few hours, and begun composing once again. drown in them, she'd gone to her room the moment she'd arrived at Haldon, pulled out her supplies, and begun to compose. She'd worked until her eyes burned and her fingers cramped, until the red light of dawn filtered through her window and grew until the gold light of early day. And then she'd eaten, slept for a few hours, and begun composing once again.

What was it now, she wondered blearily, seven o'clock in the evening the day after she'd left Pallton House? It seemed odd that she had only been awake for a few hours.

"Have you a moment, Lady Kate?"

Kate glanced up to see Lizzy standing in the open door between their rooms. She looked anxious, Kate realized. She was biting her lip, and there were circles under her eyes. Worry and guilt were added to the heartache. Had something happened while she'd secluded herself away to lick her wounds?

"What's the matter, Lizzy? What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened. Nothing's the matter, not really. I don't wish to interrupt." Lizzy hesitated, then walked in and eyed the papers strewn across the desk. "Your symphony, isn't it?"

"You're not interrupting," Kate a.s.sured her. "It's done."

"Is it?" Lizzy's face brightened. "Is it really? You've finished the whole of it?"

"I have."

"That's wonderful," Lizzy breathed. "An entire symphony. I can't imagine. It's...well, it's wonderful, isn't it? You must be very excited."

Kate nodded, and wished she could, in fact, feel some level of excitement. In truth, she'd rather the symphony have gone unfinished than experience the pain that had inspired its completion. "I'm glad it's finished," she said evasively. "What is it you wished to speak to me about?"