A look of bitterness flashed across his face. He released her hand and turned away. "I see. Maybe we should have talked about it."
She couldn't quite keep the sadness from her voice. "We don't seem to have that kind of marriage, do we?"
"No. No, I guess we don't." With his back to her, he took off his pearl-gray coat and tugged at his cravat. When he finally turned, his eyes were as remote as the North Star. "I'm glad you were so sensible. Two people who detest each other wouldn't make the best parents. I can't imagine anything worse than bringing some unwanted brat into this sordid mess we call a marriage, can you?"
Kit felt her heart break into a million pieces. "No," she managed. "No, I can't."
"I understand you own that new spinning mill out-past Rutherford, Mr. Cain."
"That's right." Cain stood at one end of the foyer next to John Hughes, a beefy young Northerner who'd claimed his attention just as he'd been about to go upstairs to see what was keeping Kit.
"Hear you're doing a good business there. More power to you, I say. Risky, though, don't you think, with the-" He broke off and whistled softly as he gazed past Cain's shoulder to the staircase. "Whoa, now! Would you look at that? There's a woman I'd like to take home with me."
Cain didn't need to turn around to know who it was. He could feel her through the pores of his skin. Still, he had to look.
She wore her silver-and-white gown with the crystal beads. But the dress had been altered since he'd last seen it, the way she'd altered so many of her clothes recently. She'd cut away the white satin bodice to just below her breasts and set in a single fine layer of silver organdy. It rose up over the soft curves to her throat, where she'd used a glimmering ribbon to gather it into a high, delicate ruffle.
The organdy was transparent, and she wore nothing beneath. Only the crystal bugle beads she'd taken from the skirt and placed in strategic clusters over the transparent fabric protected her modesty. Crystal spangles and warm, rounded flesh.
The gown was outrageously lovely, and Cain had never seen anything he hated more. One by one, the men around him turned to her, and their eyes greedily devoured flesh that should have been his alone to see. She was an ice maiden set afire.
And then he forgot his jealousy and simply lost himself in the sight of her. She was savagely beautiful, his wild rose of the deep wood, as untamed as the day he'd met her, still ready to stab a man's flesh with her thorns at the same time she enticed him with her spirit.
He took in the high color smudging her delicate cheekbones and the queer, voltaic lights that glittered in the deep violet depths of her eyes. He felt his first prickle of uneasiness. There was something almost frenetic lurking inside her tonight. It pulsed from her body like a drumbeat, straining to break loose and run free and wild. He took one quick step toward her and then another.
Her eyes locked with his and then deliberately drew away. Without a word, she swept across the foyer to another neighbor from Rutherford who'd been invited.
"Brandon! My, don't you look handsome tonight. And this must be your sweet fiancée, Eleanora. I do hope you'll let me steal Brandon from you every once in a while. We've been friends for so long-like brother and sister, you understand. I couldn't possibly give him up entirely, even for such a pretty young lady."
Eleanora tried to smile, but her lips couldn't hide either her disapproval or the knowledge that she looked dowdy next to Kit's exotic beauty. Brandon, on the other hand, gazed at Kit in her shocking dress as if she were the only woman in the world.
Cain appeared. "Parsell. Miss Baird. If you'll excuse us…"
His fingers sank into Kit's organdy-draped arm, but before he could pull her across the foyer to the steps and force her to change her dress, Veronica glided toward them in a jet-black evening gown. There was a slight lift to her forehead as she took in the small drama being played out before her.
"Baron, Katharine, just the two I was looking for. I'm late as usual, and for my own party. Cook's ready to serve dinner. Baron, be a darling and escort me into the dining room. And, Katharine, I want you to meet Sergio. A fascinating man and the best baritone New York City has heard in a decade. He'll be your dinner partner."
Cain ground his teeth in frustration. There was no way he could remove Kit now. He watched a much too handsome Italian eagerly step forward and kiss Kit's hand. Then, with a soulful look, he turned it over and pressed his lips intimately to her palm.
Cain moved quickly, but Veronica was even quicker. "My dearest Baron," she cooed softly as she dug her fingers into his arm, "you're behaving like the most boring sort of husband. Escort me into the dining room before you do something that will only make you look foolish."
Veronica was right. Nevertheless, it took all his will to turn his back on his wife and the Italian.
Dinner lasted for nearly three hours, and at least a dozen times during the meal, Kit's laughter rang out as she divided her attention between Sergio and the other men who sat near her. They all flattered her outrageously and showered her with attention. Sergio seemed to be teaching her Italian. When she spilled a drop of wine, he dipped his index finger into the spot and then touched it to his lips. Only Veronica's viselike grip kept Cain from leaping across the table.
Kit was waging a battle of her own. She'd perversely asked Lucy to pack the crystal-and-silver dress after Cain had told her he disliked it. But she hadn't really intended to wear it. Yet when the time came to don the more appropriate jade-green velvet, Cain's words had haunted her.
I can't imagine anything worse than bringing some unwanted brat into this sordid mess we call a marriage…
She heard Cain's laughter echo from the other end of the table and observed the attentive way he listened to Veronica. The ladies left the gentlemen to their cigars and brandy. Then it was time for the dancing to begin.
Brandon abandoned Eleanora to her father and asked Kit for the first dance. Kit gazed into his handsome, weak face. Brandon, who talked of honor, was willing to sell himself to the highest bidder. First to her for a plantation, then to Eleanora Baird for a bank. Cain would never sell himself for anything, not even his cotton mill. His marriage to her had been retribution and nothing less.
As she and Brandon moved out onto the dance floor, she saw Eleanora at the side of the room looking unhappy, and she regretted her earlier flirtatiousness. She'd drunk just enough champagne to decide she needed to settle a score for all unhappy women.
"I've missed you," she whispered as the music began.
"I've missed you, too, Kit. Oh, Lord, you're so beautiful. It's nearly killed me to think of you with Cain."
She pushed closer to him and whispered mischievously, "Dearest Brandon, run away with me tonight. Let's leave it all, Risen Glory and the bank. It will only be the two of us. We won't have money or a home, but we'll have our love."
She concealed her amusement as she felt him stiffen beneath the cloth of his coat.
"Really, Kit, I-I don't think that would be-would be wise."
"But why not? Are you worried about my husband? He'll come after us, but I'm certain you can take care of him."
Brandon stumbled. "Let's not-that is to say, I think, perhaps-too much haste-"
She hadn't wanted to let him off the hook so easily, but a bubble of rueful laughter escaped her.
"You're making fun of me," he said stiffly.
"You deserve it, Brandon. You're an engaged man, and you should have asked Eleanora for the first dance."
He looked confused and a bit pathetic as he tried to regain his dignity. "I don't understand you at all."
"That's because you don't really like me very much, and you certainly don't approve of me. It would be easier for you if you could just admit that all you feel for me is a most ungentlemanly lust."
"Kit!" Such unvarnished honesty was more than he could accept. "I beg your pardon if I've offended you," he said tightly. His eyes caught on the crystal-spangled bodice of Kit's gown. With great effort, he tore his gaze away and, smarting with humiliation, went in search of his fiancée.