The Blue Devil (The Regency Matchmaker Series) by Melynda Beth Andrews Page A

library door, she heard a muffled thump and the echo of voices from downstairs as the morning cacophony of the kitchen began. Blast! She couldn’t risk being caught ransacking the library. She could always say she couldn’t sleep and had come looking for a book to read, but how was she to explain the presence of her valise?
    She was stymied. Foiled. Done for.
    There was no other recourse but to end her search right then. But slinking back to Auntie’s house with her tail tucked and thence fleeing for the country was out of the question. She had never been a quitter, and she wasn’t about to start now! She would just have to continue on as one of “Lady Marchman’s young ladies” for another day. She climbed the stairs once more and slipped stealthily back into bed beside Jane. The mantel clock ticked away the minutes, and soon she fell asleep.
    And there he was, waiting for her.
    They were in a garden with darkness close around and a thick mist swirling about their feet. He whispered all sorts of endearments, his warm, sweet breath skittering across her neck and ear. And then he kissed her. It was the same kiss he’d given her in Auntie’s garden. Every little movement, every thudding heartbeat of that kiss she lived once more in her dream and awakened suddenly, perspiring, with a sense of longing. It was foolish dream.
    Foolish. Senseless. Silly.
    But—heaven help her!—a part of her wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep so she could return to Blackshire’s arms. Horrified, she willed herself to stay awake. She was bone-tired and groggy by the time Lady Marchman knocked softly on the door at dawn and entered the room, carrying an impossibly brilliant lamp that cast hard-edged shadows across the room. Both young women groaned, and Jane pulled the covers over her head. Normally, Kathryn was a cheerful riser, but Jane, it seemed, was not.
    Lady Marchman smiled. “Arise and greet the day, my girls. There is much to learn before the sun goes down.”
    Jane groaned again. “Madam, the sun is not up yet!”
    “Nonsense! The cocks have been crowing since a quarter to five, and if they can drag themselves from their roosts, then so can— oh my !” Lady Marchman caught her first glimpse of Kathryn. “Oh my!” she said again, putting her hand to her cheek. “Are you feeling well?” She bent closer and squinted. “Oh. But of course you are not.” She slid a look at Jane and clamped her lips tight, then straightened.
    Jane was soon ushered from the room, and Kathryn was ordered to spend the day at rest—which she begged to pass in the library. Lady Marchman consented.
    Perfect. Kathryn gave a satisfied sigh as soon as Lady Marchman quit the bedchamber. Logic told her Kathryn some maid had picked up the diary and returned it to the library. It would probably be sitting on a table waiting to be re-shelved, which would make it easy to find. Kathryn would be back home with Aunt Ophelia and John by noon!
    Scrambled out of bed as soon as the door clicked shut behind Lady Marchman, Kathryn hurried to dress herself between bites of toast. She was starving.
    She couldn’t believe her good fortune. She hadn’t had to withstand even one of Jane’s questions! The diary was as good as in Auntie’s hands. As Kathryn buttoned her shabby blue frock, she relaxed into a dream of ball gowns, waltzes, and strolling in the park on the arm of a handsome gentleman—fancies which her unexpected success at the masquerade ball confirmed would soon become reality. Ah! What fun it would be! Would Auntie restrict Kathryn to pale muslin, or could she be persuaded to let her wear deep, blue satin? Would there be any more masquerades? Would any of the handsome gentlemen she strolled with attempt to steal a kiss? Perhaps one of the trio of pirates? Even the clumsy one was endearing.
    “Ah...” She sighed softly, and her hands stilled on the row of buttons down the front of her dress. Kathryn smiled dreamily and stared into