Page 115 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
He knew he’d fooked up by keeping the secret of her parentage, but after tonight, after Blackrose was in prison, he’d have the rest of his life to convince her to forgive him.
After the last note died away, Kit slowly lowered her bow from her violin, and the applause was thunderous. She seemed a bit stunned, as if she hadn’t expected the support, but nonetheless sank into what would be an elegant curtsey if she’d been wearing skirts.
Chuckling again at her delicious audacity, Thorne bounded from his seat and up to the dais, ignoring the ache in his head to scoop up her hand and turn them both to the sea of faces.
Some of their guests were on their feet applauding in appreciation, and all looked as if they were aware of the magnitude of what they’d been allowed to see.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called as the applause began todie down, “thank ye. On behalf of myself, and behalf of Miss Pastorino, and behalf of her father, the Earl of Bonkinbone, thank ye for being here tonight to witness this truly magnificent performance.”
With a charming grin, he bowed over Kit’s hand earning a tight little smile which Thorne was certain looked as if she were humoring him. He prayed it was part of the performance, to let her father think this was her idea and keep his attention from where it belonged: on the Princess.
Turning back to the audience, he swept his hand to the side in welcome. “I ken ye’re all anxious to meet Lady Katherine and say ye were able to bask in her glory, but I beg ye to give her a few minutes respite to spend with her father.” His grin turned wolfish. “Withhis wiferaising Miss Pastorino, the earl hasnae been granted nearly enough time with his heir—I mean, his daughter. Please, enjoy the refreshments for now!”
As his guests began to make their way toward the refreshment tables, their voices raised in excited chatter about the performance, the players slowly moved into place.
As planned, Georgia, Ellie, Sophia and Olivia swept toward the rest of the guests, acting to herd them away from the drama happening near the dais. And, Thorne knew, to keep them out of trouble.
Meanwhile, the men drifted toward the dais. As Thorne helped Kit down, Rourke hobbled slowly to the Princess’s side to make small talk with the guard she’d brought along. Demon and Effinghell crossed their arms and took up station to one side of the dais, as Fawkes stepped up to Thorne’s left. Griffin and Bull—why the hell hadn’t they been able to talk the lad into staying home with his mother?—moved into place behind Blackrose.
Taking a deep breath, Thorne glanced at Kit. She lifted her chin and met his gaze with angry ice in her eyes. She hadn’tforgiven him, but she was ready. And that anger would help her tonight, with what she had to do.
She had to face down the bastard who’d taken so much from them. Fromallof them.
With a small nod, he turned them both to Blackrose.
Chapter 23
Kit wasaware of the men moving around them, but she paid them no heed. Her attention—her anger—was locked on her father, and his glare was for her alone.
That’s how she needed it.
“Bonkinbone,” Thorne began, employing hisduke voicefor a change, “before I leave ye alone with yer precious Katherine, step this way.” He was gesturing toward the finely dressed woman he’d been sitting beside.
As the woman inclined her head slightly, an invitation for an introduction, Thorne cleared his throat. “Your Highness, please allow me to introduce William Stoughton, the Earl of Bonkinbone. Since he recently returned from Canada, ye might share fond reminisces together. Or ye would, if ye had anything fond to say about the country and he hadn’t been hiding like a wounded dog.” A mocking smile slid across Thorne’s face. “Bonkinbone, Her Royal Highness, the Princess Louise, Marchioness of Lorne.”
Kit’s breath had been stolen with the first words of the introduction.
Thiswas the Crown’s representative? One of the princesses?Even Kit knew that Princess Louise was a powerful woman, with ties to artists and politicians alike, and a goal of working toward the betterment of womankind. Her reputation went far beyond British borders.
But beyond the rumors she’d heard, Kit had to admit the Princess was far more impressive in person. She kept an air of detached certainty about her, as ifknowingeveryone around her was somehow lesser.
And her attention was firmly on Kit, even as she held her hand to Father.
As he bent over it, murmured pleasantries, the Princess smiled tightly at Kit. “I am pleased to finally meet you, Bonkinbone, having heard so much about you. Butplease,” she added, before anyone could askwhatshe’d heard about him, “introduce me to this talented young virtuoso.”
A muscle leapt in Father’s jaw as he straightened. “Your Highness, my daughter, Katherine Pastorino.”
Kit, suddenly wishing she’d quelled the completely idiotic instinct to wearfooking trousers to meet a fooking Princess, did her best to curtsey.
The Princess accepting the homage with a dip of her own chin. “But tell me, Bonkinbone, why her name is not Stoughton?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Why are you not Katherine Stoughton, my dear? Your father gave your mother his name, did he not?”
Oh hell. Even Thorne was looking a little uncertain here.
Kit tried for a reassuring smile. “My mother’s name was quite important to her fame, my—Your—uh…Highness.”
“Americans,” spat her father under his breath.
“Mother raised me in America,” Kit continued, ignoring him and speaking to the Princess. “Her family in Italy had been performers, and she capitalized on that when she studied opera. By the time she was successful, it would have beenfoolish to give up the name Pastorino, at least as far as the public was concerned.”
