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A Very Difficult Man ISBN 9781419907913 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. A Very Difficult Man Copyright© 2007 Anita Birt Edited by Helen Woodall. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: February 2007
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®
A VERY DIFFICULT MAN Anita Birt
Dedication For Bill, my wonderful husband, for his encouragement and unfailing good humor. And my critique partners: Jo Beverley, Naomi Bellis, Solveig McLaren, Lee McKenzie-McAnally and Shereen Vedam.
A Very Difficult Man
Chapter One England 1855
Her shoulders hunched against the storm, Catherine wiped her stinging eyes with a gloved hand. Gale force winds swept drenching rain through the bare branched trees bordering the drive to Glenmore Manor. Why had no one met her at Abbeyleigh station as promised? She hadn’t mistaken the day. Her duties were to commence on March first. Lady Glenmore’s letter had confirmed the arrangements. She was too fatigued to climb the wall again and return to the road. The village, three miles distant, might as well be thirty or three hundred—there’d be no shelter this late in the day and no London train until morning. Her mother had begged her not to accept employment as a companion. “You’ll be spurned by society, gossiped about at parties. You’ve been out for a year and you’ll not find eligible gentlemen in a country parish. I don’t know what’s to become of you.” A sudden gust snatched Catherine’s bonnet and hurled it into a puddle. She swooped down, grabbed the bonnet and battled the weather to save it from total ruin. The pretty violet posy she’d pinned under the brim before leaving London flew across the grassy park and disappeared into a rising mist. Huddled into her sodden coat she trudged on. Freed from the bonnet her tangled wet hair dripped chilly water down her neck. Wretchedly unhappy she peered ahead into the gathering gloom. Distant lights flickered in the manor windows. A hound bayed in the distance, joined by another close by. Terrified they might attack she picked up her feet and ran, praying the storm would throw them off the scent. Close to collapse, gasping for breath she stumbled up the stone steps to the manor and pulled the bell. Within minutes a liveried footman opened the door. Nose twitching, lips pursed, he studied her. “Yes?” The last of Catherine’s strength gave way and she burst into tears. “I’m Catherine Thurston, engaged as a companion by Lady Glenmore. No one met me at the station. The manor gates are locked. I had to climb the wall to get in. I’m wet and cold and I want to go home.” “Oh dear, oh dear. What is this?” A white-haired elderly gentleman with sparkling blue eyes peeked around the vestibule door. “The young lady says she is Miss Catherine Thurston.” Stepping around the footman, the gentleman approached Catherine. “Are you really Miss Thurston?”
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Too shivery to speak, Catherine nodded. Tears and dribbles of rain trickled down her cheeks. “My goodness child you are dreadfully wet. Come inside at once. We must dry you off.” Shaking with cold Catherine followed her savior across a huge entry hall. Ahead was a magnificent staircase sweeping up to the second floor. Scarcely conscious of her surroundings she faltered and almost fell. “Oh dear, oh dear, let me take your arm. You are in a bad way.” He tugged her into a brightly lit room its walls lined with book-laden shelves. A fire blazed in the hearth. Flickering sparks whirled up the chimney. Seated in a chair close by the fire a lady worked at her embroidery. Startled by Catherine’s sudden appearance, she removed her spectacles and leaned forward to study the intruder. Her beautifully coifed hair gleamed red gold in the firelight. “Who is the young lady, Edward?” “You’ll never guess, Marie Claire. This poor child was left out in the rain. Just look at her. She’ll catch her death of cold if we don’t dry her off and find some warm clothing.” Catherine peeled off her wet gloves, dropped a small curtsy and offered her hand to the lady. “I am Miss Thurston. No one met me at the station. I left my trunk at the Goods Office and walked here.” Eyes blurry with tears, her gaze drawn to the crackling fire and its life-giving heat, Catherine edged closer to the hearth. “Miss Thurston, your hand is icy cold. Edward, please ring for the housekeeper.” The lady stood and helped Catherine out of her coat. “My dear girl, you are almost soaked through to the skin. Warm yourself by the fire lest you catch a chill. I am Lady Glenmore. It seems there’s been an unfortunate mistake. Did you not receive my letter canceling the arrangements?” Canceling the arrangements. Catherine sank to her knees on the rug in front of the fire and held out her hands. Chilled to the bone, her teeth chattering, she shivered uncontrollably. Surely she’d not heard rightly. Lady Glenmore had confirmed the arrangements. The Glenmore solicitor had assured her all was well. Catherine struggled to speak. “I have your letter in my reticule. I am engaged for three months as a companion to a young person injured in a riding accident. You’ve kindly paid my wages. The arrangements are very clear. I don’t understand what has happened. Are my services not required?” Her mouth dried. She had read Lady Glenmore’s letter offering her employment twice on the train journey from London. It spelled out her duties very clearly. “I am very sorry, Miss Thurston.” Catherine’s thoughts spun dizzily around the dreadful words. Canceling the arrangements.
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How could it be? The room faded into strange darkness. She tried to rouse herself. “But…” “The poor child has fainted.” Fainted? She had never…
***** Catherine heard a man’s voice. What was he saying? “She’s caught a severe chill, my lady, a near brush with pneumonia if I’m not mistaken. I want her to have complete rest for a day or two lest the fever return.” Catherine puzzled over the words. Who was he, and about whom was he speaking? Forcing her eyes open she gazed at a gray-haired gentleman hovering over her. “Who are you?” she croaked. “Bless my soul, Miss Thurston, I am pleased to see you awake. I am Dr. Bentley.” He turned to address a beautiful woman standing at the foot of the bed. Dressed in an emerald green gown, her titian hair was smoothed away from her face and coiled in an elegant chignon at her nape. “We are happy our patient is on the road to recovery, are we not, Lady Glenmore?” “Indeed we are.” Lady Glenmore smiled at Catherine. Catherine licked her dry lips. She’d only a vague recollection of arriving at the manor but Lady Glenmore’s devastating announcement had burned into her soul. Dismissed on her arrival. Three months’ wages had to be returned. How? She’d used the money settling household accounts for her mother, purchased two simple dresses suitable for her role as a companion and paid her train fare to Abbeyleigh. Virtually penniless, what was she to do? “My lady, why am I in bed? I’m not ill. If you no longer require my services, I must return home at once.” The doctor shook his head. “There, there, don’t go upsetting yourself otherwise you’ll bring back the fever and we don’t want that, do we?” Lady Glenmore sat on the bed beside Catherine. As she straightened her skirts a light flowery scent wafted from the silken folds. “Do not fret, Miss Thurston. You collapsed upon your arrival two days ago. We’ve been very concerned.” She touched Catherine lightly on the hand. “Unfortunately, the letter I wrote canceling our arrangements was mislaid, that is why no one met you at the station. I am deeply troubled you had the misfortune to be caught out in the storm.” Catherine struggled to sit up. “Two days! I must leave immediately. My mother will be frantic wondering why I have not written.”
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Lady Glenmore hushed her. “I sent word to your mother immediately about your illness and have written to Lady Thurston daily assuring her you are in good hands.” Dr. Bentley tucked a light shawl around Catherine’s shoulders and gently settled her back on the pillow. “You are to rest in bed today. I may allow you up tomorrow.” He bowed to Lady Glenmore. “I’ll be on my way and will call around in the morning.” He closed the door as he left the room. “Thank you for your kindness, my lady. I regret causing you such an inconvenience. As you no longer require my services, I will repay the wages you advanced.” Brave words. Where was she to find the money? Would they have her arrested and thrown into the debtor’s prison? “You are not to fret about the wages. I’ve changed my plans again. You will remain with us for three months as agreed. Let us hear no more about leaving.” Lady Glenmore rose gracefully to her feet. “Are you hungry, my dear? You’ve eaten nothing since you collapsed—only water has passed your lips.” Safe from debtor’s prison Catherine’s spirits lifted. Her stomach grumbled. “May I have a pot of tea and buttered toast spread with honey? It’s my mother’s favorite remedy to alleviate the miseries, whatever the cause.” “You certainly shall.” Catherine’s employer paused at the door. “I’ve assigned one of the upstairs maids to attend you. Anna will be along with your tea. Should you require anything else, please send word to me.” She closed the door quietly. Catherine studied her luxurious surroundings. The deep rose silk bed draperies had been looped back. Brilliant sunshine beamed through slightly open French doors leading to a small balcony. A light breeze drifted into the room bringing with it the smell of damp earth. A small fire burned brightly in the grate of the pink marble fireplace. Arranged in front of it was a small gate-leg table, two wing chairs and a chaise longue covered in white and gold brocade. To the side under the window were a finely polished walnut escritoire and a matching chair. A large oak wardrobe occupied much of the far wall, next to it a Cheval glass. On a table beside her bed, a pretty lamp with a lustrous pink shade caught the sun’s rays. Mystified by the opulence surrounding her Catherine sank back on the pillows. As a paid companion in the service of the wealthy Glenmore family she had expected a room in a remote wing of the manor reserved for servants. Perhaps they intended to move her when she had fully recovered. The rose room, so she’d named it, was much too grand for a servant. A maid bustled into the room with tea on a tray with folding legs and placed it across Catherine’s lap. “I’m Anna. I’ll just plump up your pillows and help you sit up. Enjoy your tea, I’ll return later with hot water for you to bathe.”
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“Thank you, Anna,” Catherine said. Left alone with her comfort food, Catherine immediately drank two cups of tea to quench her thirst and slowly ate every morsel of toast. Within the half-hour Anna reappeared through a door on the far side of the room with a large china bowl of hot water, a tablet of soap and towel. She removed the tea tray and assisted Catherine to wash her hands and face. "This will do for now. We have a proper bathing room for you when you're feeling better. I’ll fetch your brush and comb from the wardrobe and tidy your hair.” Catherine reveled in the luxury of having Anna comb out the tangles. No one had brushed her hair since she’d left the nursery and her nanny’s gentle hands. “Such pretty blonde curls, you have.” Anna examined her work. “Quite a scare you gave Lady Glenmore and Mr. Edward when you fainted. Do you faint often, Miss?” “I’ve never fainted and regret causing everyone so much trouble when there’s an invalid requiring companionship.” Anna frowned and raised her brows. “An invalid?” Catherine wondered why the maid seemed puzzled. “I’m engaged as her companion.” Anna smoothed the rose silk comforter on the bed, gathered up the bowl and the damp towels and arranged them on the tray. Before leaving she closed the French doors. “The weather changed after the storm. It’s lovely and warm today but the evenings are cool. We don’t want you taking another chill.” She crossed the room. “I’ll fetch your supper at eight o’clock. If you require anything tug the bell rope beside your bed.” Alone with her thoughts Catherine considered her future duties. Read to the invalid and discuss current events as requested. She’d studied the Times before leaving London and wondered what a young lady might enjoy discussing. Tomorrow would be soon enough to gather reading materials. She smothered a yawn and closed her eyes. A quiet footstep wakened her and she peered into the darkened room. “I’ll light the lamp, Miss Thurston. Cook has sent up small portions of dinner for you. Try to eat a little. It will help you regain your strength.” “Where is the commode, Anna?” She could not remain in bed and drink more tea without using it. “Bless me, I neglected to tell you.” She held out her hand. “I’ll assist you.” Feeling slightly woozy Catherine clung to Anna as they crossed the room to a door on the far wall. It opened into a luxurious bathing room with a marble tiled floor, a fine tub and a French porcelain washbasin. “There’s a flushing water closet in the corner cubicle. I’ll step outside while you use it.” Catherine had read about the newly invented water closets but had never used one. Pleased to have her immediate problem relieved she washed her hands in the basin and returned to bed with Anna’s assistance. She ate a morsel of meat and some potato 9
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before her stomach rebelled. Grateful for the large pot of tea she quenched her thirst with three cupfuls. “Goodnight, Miss.” Anna trimmed the lamp until the flame flickered and died, removed the tray and left. Catherine reviewed her situation and resolved not to rest in bed another day. She’d been employed as a companion and intended to fulfill her duties. Lying in bed, waited on hand and foot, did not suit her. Tomorrow she’d rise early, write a brief letter to her mother and prepare to meet her patient. She closed her eyes and snuggled under the covers. Three months in the country away from the city smells and the cholera plaguing London, what could be more pleasant? She’d not be expected to work every hour of the day and night. There’d be time to explore the gardens and fill her lungs with fresh air. Dreamily happy she anticipated meeting her young charge on the morrow. A loud crash jolted Catherine from a deep sleep. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Quaking with fear she held her breath and sat up in bed. A man’s agonizing cries shattered the night. “No. Go back. Go back. We’re lost.” Thoroughly alarmed she tried to stay calm—impossible with her heart racing and panic squeezing her chest. Icy tendrils of fear surged up and down her spine. Goose bumps shivered along her arms. Too frightened to stay huddled in bed waiting for more blood-curdling shrieks, she swung her legs over the side, stood and promptly fell back. Feeling lightheaded she sat quietly until her head cleared. Footsteps hurried past her room. “Coming, milord.” A nearby door opened and closed. Wrapped in her shawl Catherine stared into the shadowy dark. The man’s room must be close to hers. What if he walked in his sleep? What if he wandered into her room and cried out as he had minutes ago? She would surely die of fright. Did her door have a lock and key? Taking one slow step at a time she walked across the room to the door, grasped the handle and felt for a key. Nothing. Her legs wobbled. Without a key she was at the man’s mercy. He might… Do not imagine what he might do. Think. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark she made out the vague shapes of the wing chairs. Tiptoeing over she seized the nearest one and pushed, shoved and bumped it across the carpeted floor and barricaded the door. Exhausted from the effort she returned to bed and curled up under the eiderdown. Afraid to close her eyes she gazed at the windows praying it would soon be dawn. With the sun in the sky the night’s events might be less frightening. A sound in the corridor revived her fears. A narrow shaft of light flooded under her door. She held her breath. No more shrieks, she pleaded silently. “I’ll not be long, milord. Hot water and brandy should do the trick.” 10
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“Bring the whole damned bottle for God’s sake and be quick about it. I don’t give a tinker’s damn for the doctor and what he thinks is good for me. Brandy and water is for females with the vapors.” “Very good, milord.” A soft click and the light disappeared from under Catherine’s door. It was him, the man demanding the brandy. His voice she’d heard after the crash. He’d shrieked as if all the devils in hell chased after him. Catherine propped pillows behind her back and sat up. She could not think clearly lying down. Not for a minute had she imagined her position as a companion would be a bed of roses, but surely Lady Glenmore did not expect her to sleep in a room so close to a man not right in the head. Perhaps he was insane. Suddenly a blackbird burst into song outside her window. Already the sky lightened. A rosy dawn promised a fine day, a day when she had to decide whether to stay at the manor or return to London. She could not carry out her duties if her sleep was disturbed at night, nor did she relish waking to screams and cries terrifying enough to freeze the blood in her veins. Safe now that daylight had come Catherine settled on her pillows and dozed. A sharp knocking awakened her. The door handle rattled. “Do let me in, Miss Thurston. I’ve come to help you bathe and dress.” It was Anna. Catherine slipped out of bed, padded slowly to the chair, tugged it away from the door and opened it. “Why ever did you shut yourself in, Miss? No harm will come to you in this house. Are you feeling poorly again?” Catherine shook her head. “I’ve had a shocking night. A wonder I’ve not had a relapse. Who is in the room across from mine?” Anna had fresh towels over her arm. “Across from you, Miss? That will be the young master, Lord Glenmore.” She bustled ahead of Catherine. “Now you’re on your feet, I expect you’ll want to bathe. Come along.” Catherine followed the maid into the bathing room. Anna draped the towels on a brass rail. “The fire’s been lit under the boiler next to the tub, there’s plenty of water for you. I’ll away and fetch your breakfast. Lady Glenmore had your trunk brought up from the station while you were ill. I’ve arranged your clothing in the wardrobe. I doubt you should be up and around. Dr. Bentley expects you to remain in bed.” Catherine smiled. “I’ll be very careful not to upset Dr. Bentley.” She had to be dressed with her wits about her to discover the identity of the madman occupying the room across the hallway. Surely Anna was mistaken. It could not possibly be Lord Glenmore causing such a disturbance. Refreshed after a relaxing bath Catherine found her undergarments neatly put away by Anna. Gowns, skirts and blouses hung on wooden hangers. She chose her plain gray dress with the white collar—a dress she deemed suitable for a companion.
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Silver-backed hairbrush in hand she worked her curls into a semblance of order and tied them back with a black ribbon. Feeling a trifle weary she rested on the chaise longue. Draped over the foot was a cobweb-fine pale blue cashmere shawl. Still shivery from the fearful events of the night, she wrapped it around her shoulders. Anna arrived with Catherine’s breakfast tray and placed it on her lap. “Lady Glenmore will be along shortly. She’ll be cross not to find you in bed.” “I am in excellent health, Anna.” Her mouth watered as she inhaled the delicious aroma of a thick country sausage, its skin crisped dark brown. She cut a small slice and ate it. Delectable juices rolled around her tongue. The savory meat flavored with onions and herbs restored her strength. She finished the sausage, buttered two scones and spread them with thick strawberry jam. Having cleaned her plate she poured a cup of tea from a cozied pot, sighed contentedly, and settled back on the chaise as Anna tidied the bed. Sunlight streamed into the room. Her stomach comfortably full, the strange events of the night seemed less frightening. The madman had not hammered at her door nor threatened her. She set the tray aside and waited for her employer. When the mysterious happenings were explained to her satisfaction she’d not be alarmed. However, she’d ask to be moved to a different room. If that were not possible she’d insist on a key to lock her door. Lady Glenmore knocked and entered. “Miss Thurston, you are supposed to rest in bed today.” She rested a cool hand on Catherine’s forehead. “You are feeling much better then?” Her slight French accent charmed Catherine. Lady Glenmore radiated elegance, true Parisian élan. Next to her employer Catherine felt like a plain little grey sparrow. “I am very well, my lady. Will you stay awhile? I wish to discuss a disturbing experience I had during the night.” “Of course. What is troubling you? Not concerned about your duties, I hope.” She sat in one of the wing chairs opposite Catherine. “Perhaps I should explain them more fully.” “My duties are clear. You engaged me as a companion to a young lady injured in a riding accident. The duties are not onerous. Reading will not tire me.” Lady Glenmore lowered her eyes and studied her hands. Diamond rings glittered on her fingers. “I prefer you rest another day before meeting my son, Lord Glenmore. You will be his companion.”
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Chapter Two “Your son!” Catherine gasped. “I assumed my charge would be a young lady close to my age. I have been misled. Your solicitor should have informed me.” A sick feeling invaded her stomach. Lady Glenmore’s expectations were beyond reason. “Please try to understand why I misled you. I advertised for a companion to read to a young person injured in a riding accident. That is partially correct. I particularly wanted a young lady to cheer Richard. He’s alone too much. Does not leave his rooms and sees no one but Edward and me, and his valet, of course.” Almost too shocked to speak Catherine stood. Her heart skipped a beat. “How can I be a companion to a gentleman without a chaperone? I know nothing of masculine pursuits. I will leave at once and return my wages.” The sunny day darkened. Her prospects faded. Debtor’s prison loomed. “Please sit down, Miss Thurston.” Catherine sat. “Richard was seriously wounded in the Crimea. He will not speak of it. The little we know is horrifying. His horse was ripped apart by cannon fire. Richard was thrown on to a blood-soaked battlefield. Since returning home he has isolated himself from his friends. I have engaged young gentlemen at various times to amuse him but he made their lives so miserable they refused to stay.” “Surely you do not expect me to act as your son’s companion when he has a penchant for making people unhappy?” “Forgive me. I was at my wit’s end when I placed the advertisement. I am gravely worried about Richard’s state of mind. I thought an attractive young lady would cheer him, make him want to live again. My solicitor was quite taken with you and chose wisely. Richard will not be unkind to you.” Catherine hugged the shawl around her shoulders to stop the shivers. The situation was going from bad to worse. Her reputation was at stake. If London gossips learned of this, she would be ruined. Her mother would be devastated. “Do you mean I am supposed to lure your son into…?” Dare she say the words? “Lure him into a close relationship with me?” “Not at all, Richard is betrothed. You will be with us for three months, nothing more.” Relieved her reputation would not be sullied Catherine weighed her options. Stay and make the best of a bad situation, or leave immediately and confess she could not repay the three months’ wages until she found other employment. She had no choice. Lady Glenmore had hired a companion for her son, not a companion with a chaperone.
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“Very well, my lady, but I will not allow your son to abuse me.” “Richard would never abuse you.” Lady Glenmore stood. “Stay for a month, Miss Thurston and if you find the situation impossible, you may leave and not be obliged to repay your wages.” Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. She could put up with miserable Lord Glenmore for a month. He’d not drive her from the house. She rose to her feet. “The matter is settled then, my lady. One month, unless I find your son too difficult in which case I will return to London.” A dreadful thought crossed her mind. “Where are Lord Glenmore’s rooms?” His mother walked to the French doors, opened them slightly and turned to Catherine. “Directly across from yours. I will introduce you tomorrow.” Catherine’s heart sank. “My lady, he is insane. He terrified me last night shrieking like a madman and shouting for someone to bring him a bottle of brandy. I dragged a chair against the door fearing he might invade my room.” Lady Glenmore returned and sat at the foot of the chaise longue. “Rest assured Richard will not harm a hair on your head. He suffers from recurring nightmares from his experiences in the Crimea. His eyes have been affected, that is why I engaged you to read to him.” Catherine was not convinced the young lord might not stumble into her room at night during one of his screaming fits. “I must have a key to secure my door. Lord Glenmore’s shrieks made my blood run cold.” “Very well, the housekeeper will find a key. Thank you for understanding my dilemma.” Catherine decided to take a stand. “I wish to meet your son today, my lady.” Better to encounter the maniac sooner rather than later and decide whether to stay or go. “Is that wise? You’ve had a severe chill. Dr. Bentley prefers that you rest today.” “I am perfectly well and prepared to carry out my duties immediately.” Lady Glenmore had misled her. She could not deny Catherine’s request. “If you are quite sure, I will speak to Richard and arrange a meeting this afternoon before tea.” She rose from the chaise. “Richard’s great-uncle Edward is anxious to make your acquaintance.” “Edward?” “Edward met you at the door when you arrived. He’s been very concerned.” Catherine smiled. “I would like to thank him for taking me in when I looked and felt like a drowned rat.” “Excellent. Edward is very amusing and enjoys a game of cards.” “That’s splendid. I look forward to seeing him again.” His visit would while away the hours until she had to meet Lord Glenmore. All her life she'd been carefully chaperoned at public functions or riding in the family carriage. This new venture
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changed all that. Companions do not require chaperones. A heavy feeling of dread settled like a stone in her stomach. All the same she wished she had one by her side. Catherine closed the door after Lady Glenmore and mulled over the situation. She had to survive a month as companion to a man who shut himself in his rooms, shunned his friends, abused previous companions and shouted for bottles of brandy in the night. Her confidence wavered. She did not relish becoming his next victim.
***** Lord Glenmore’s uncle called on her after the midday meal. “Good afternoon, Miss Thurston. I am The Honorable Edward Delisle, Richard’s great-uncle but you may call me Mr. Edward, if you like. I thought you might need a diversion so I fetched some books from our library. I have the complete works of Shakespeare, in one volume. Devilish heavy stuff, I should think. Perhaps you fancy The History of Beekeeping in the Cotswolds or would you prefer the latest novel sent down from London?” A merry smile tipped his lips. He set the books aside on the table, reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cards. “Or what do you say to a game of piquet?” His bright-eyed presence lifted Catherine’s spirits. “Thank you for the books and the offer to play piquet. Regrettably, I’m not able to concentrate today.” “Because you’ve been poorly?” She shook her head. “No, I’m perfectly well but am nervous about meeting Lord Glenmore this afternoon. What is he like?” “A fine fellow. Had a bad time in Crimea—his body and soul took a beating. He’ll come round. Needs to get out and attend to the estate. Never leaves his rooms. Not good for him. Not good at all. Lives more like a hermit than a healthy young man.” Catherine quaked inside. Lord Glenmore’s strange attitude disturbed her. “I fear I shall be of little use to him.” “The thing is, be tough with Richard, not like the wishy-washy chaps Lady Glenmore employed to cheer him. No fight in them at all.” “What can I do that his male companions could not?” Her fighting spirit quailed. How could she succeed where men had failed? “You’re the prettiest creature to enter this house in years. Richard is a gentleman. Just the sight of you will act like a breath of fresh air in those bleak rooms of his.” Bearding the lion in his gloomy den was a daunting task for which she was unprepared. She should have asked the Glenmore solicitor pointed questions about the injured young person. She’d made a terrible mistake and must pay for it. Mr. Edward stood as Lady Glenmore entered Catherine’s room. “I believe this is as good a time as any for you to meet Richard, Miss Thurston. A brief visit will suffice. I don’t wish to tire you.”
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Catherine’s stomach turned over. Determined to show no fear she drew in a deep breath and rose to her feet. “Thank you, my lady. Shall we go?” She smiled at Mr. Edward. “I’d enjoy a game of piquet another time.” Like a prisoner facing execution she followed her employer across the hallway. Lady Glenmore tapped lightly on the door and opened it. “Richard, this is Miss Thurston, the young lady I’ve engaged as your companion.” She placed her hand on Catherine’s back and gently propelled her into the room. “I will leave you to become acquainted.” The door clicked shut. Catherine was alone with him. She sidled to one side hoping to catch a glimpse of the monster. The room was dimly lit. A single lamp glowed on the mantelpiece. Blurry images were reflected in a mirror hanging above. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom she made out a table, a bookcase, a chair by the fireplace, and opposite from where she stood, a high-backed chair, facing away from her. Suddenly the chair swiveled around. A second later a book flew across the room. Catherine ducked as it crashed against the door. He’d almost hit her! Furious at him, she picked up the volume. “How dare you throw a book at me?” Taking aim at the shadowy figure leaning back in the chair she hurled the book. Instead of striking him as she’d intended, it sailed past and thudded against the wall. Hands clenched against her sides Catherine edged toward the door and safety. “So this is how you comfort me,” he snapped. “Comfort you, my lord? No indeed, I am not paid to comfort you. I am paid to read to you. Good afternoon, Lord Glenmore. I shall call in the morning. Perhaps you will be in better humor. In the meantime I intend to stroll in the garden.” “You are my paid companion, Miss Thurston. I expect you to obey me. Put up with my ill humor or leave.” “That I will not do, I am engaged to read to you. If you insist on throwing books at me I will sit outside your door and read loudly enough for you to hear every word.” She grasped the doorknob and turned the handle. “Good afternoon, Lord Glenmore.” “Return at once, Miss Thurston. I have not finished with you.” Catherine fled to safety and slammed the door behind her. She leaned against it until her heart stopped hammering against her ribs and her knees stopped shaking. This was worse than she’d imagined. Much worse. She’d not allow Lord Glenmore to use her as target practice. She’d outwit him. She’d fulfill her contract by sitting outside his door. He was quite mad. Little wonder his previous companions had fled from the house. She returned to her room, collected her warm woolen shawl from the wardrobe, wrapped it around her shoulders, ventured into the hallway, tiptoed past the madman’s door and like an explorer in a strange land, made her way through a maze of corridors 16
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to the magnificent staircase leading to the marble tiled entrance hall. In an alcove, an armored knight, visor down, stood at attention. A family relic, she thought, and nodded at the silent figure as she passed. A stroll in the garden breathing fresh air would restore her fighting spirit. Lord Glenmore was a formidable opponent.
***** Richard seized his crutches and hopped across to the bell. “Bloody woman,” he muttered and tugged the rope almost ripping it from its moorings. He felt around the floor for the book she’d thrown at him. His eyes had improved enough for him to see her outlined in the door before she stepped inside and his mother closed it. She must have worn something dark. He hadn’t intended to hit her, but a glancing blow might have driven her straight back home, wherever that was—very likely a residence for single ladies past their prime. His valet hurried into the room. “You rang, milord?” “Of course, I rang. Bring me a brandy and don’t pretend there’s none in the house. I haven’t drunk my way through the cellar yet.” He threw himself into his chair. “And inform my mother to dismiss the young lady she has engaged to read to me.” “Very good, sir, I will speak with her ladyship.” “Bring the brandy at once. My leg pains me.” He waited for the valet to leave. Damned stump acting up again. He massaged his left thigh and worked below the knee. The muscle cramp eased. God, he hated being a cripple with everyone fussing over him. He’d lost part of his leg not his wits. His mother’s insistence he have a female companion was the last straw. Companion! He’d rid himself of the last two in short order, scared the hell out of them, and they were men. This female had to go. He couldn’t stomach a woman feeling sorry for him. If he allowed her inside his rooms the spinster would moon over him, pat his hand and offer up a prayer for his deliverance from the demon drink—like as not she belonged to a temperance movement. “Your brandy, milord.” His valet placed the glass on the table by the chair. “Your mother is on her way. Is there anything else?” Richard shook his head and dismissed Pickens with a brusque wave. Gloom descended on him. He tipped some brandy into the palm of his hand and rubbed the stump below the knee of his left leg. Alcohol soothed some of the lingering pain and helped toughen the skin but it failed to blot out the nightmare memories haunting him. Warming the glass in his hands, he sipped the drink. Second of the day. Another at five. Another at nine. Another if he couldn’t sleep. The damned doctor had rationed his drink! His mother knocked on the door and entered. “I know what you are going to say and I refuse to dismiss Miss Thurston.” She crossed the room and sat down.
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“Then I shall make her miserable. I do not require someone to read to me. My eyes are recovering.” “Richard.” His mother tapped the arm of her chair. “It’s not only to read that I engaged Miss Thurston. I thought having a young lady in residence would bring new life into this house and brighten up your days. At least give her a fair trial. “You have shut yourself up in these rooms for months, refusing to see anyone, refusing even to allow a visit from Madeline. She will soon tire of your neglect and wish to be free from her promise to marry you.” Fingering her long strand of pearls, she leaned toward him. “You must think of the future. You are twenty-eight years old, time you settled down and raised a family. It is your duty to provide an heir.” Richard groaned and dragged his fingers through his hair. “Mother, please leave me alone. I have no desire to see anyone. I have nothing to say to anyone, especially Miss Thurston. I do not wish to marry. Not now. Perhaps never. It might be best if I wrote to Madeline and asked her to release me. She can do better than tie herself to a cripple.” “Please don’t say that. Madeline still cares for you.” Sighing, she rose to her feet. “I wish Dolly were here. He’d know what to do. I’ve a mind to write to the war office and ask for him to be sent home. Surely his regiment can do without him in India.” Richard shook his head. His younger brother, Randall, was the last person he wished to see. Much as he loved Dolly, his brother had the sensitivity of a charging bull. Dolly loved army life. Being out in India to keep the peace between warring tribes on the North West frontier suited him perfectly. His letters home described forays into the hills, the fighting qualities of the Indian troops and the crack of rifle fire echoing off rocks. The carnage during the Crimea campaign had sickened Richard of the army— sickened his soul and wounded his body. “Mother, do not send for Dolly. All I want is to be left alone. Why is that so difficult for everyone to understand?” “I am trying to understand but could you not be a little polite to Miss Thurston? She’s come down from London. I have paid her three months’ wages. The poor girl caught a chill when she arrived and has suffered greatly. We owe her something.” He gritted his teeth. “We owe her nothing. I haven’t the faintest desire to be polite to this spinster you’ve hired. Send her home.” His mother raised her brows. “Miss Thurston is hardly a spinster. She is a very pleasant young lady and has agreed to stay at least one month. I cannot turn her out.” She picked up the empty brandy glass. “You are drinking too much.” “Good morning, Mother.” He waited for her to leave before sinking back in his chair. With any luck he’d fall asleep and spend the rest of the afternoon unconscious. He closed his eyes but the scene with his spinster companion occupied his thoughts.
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A pleasant young lady indeed. Miss Thurston was more like a shrew. If her aim had been better, she’d have struck him. Striking him would be grounds for dismissal. A violent companion was not what his mother had in mind. He dismissed the idea of luring her into throwing something at him. Something less extreme would do just as well. A plan formed in his mind. Pleased with himself, he smiled. Miss Thurston would be gone within the week.
***** Catherine enjoyed her walk in the grounds. There was much to admire. She had seen only a small part of the splendid park surrounding the magnificent house. Drawn to the stables, she examined the horses. In a stall at the far end, humming quietly, a man currycombed a chestnut mare. “Good morning.” Catherine rested her arms on the half door. He straightened up and touched his cap. “Afternoon, Miss. I’m Pip Jones, head stable boy.” Dressed in smock and leggings, his face nut-brown and wrinkled, gray hair straggling underneath his cap, he looked anything but a boy. “I’m Miss Thurston come to stay at the manor. That’s a pretty mare. Who rides her?” “No one. I mean none of the family. The grooms exercise the horses. Lady Glenmore used to ride but hasn’t this long time.” He patted the sleek chestnut hide. “A right shame it is. There was a time when all the horses were saddled and out at the hunt. Deer hunting it was, up in the hills. Now Misty here is tearing to go. Likes a good run, takes fences like a bird, so I’m told.” Catherine stepped into the stall. Misty raised her head. Her neck tensed, and her ears flicked back. Not to alarm the mare further, Catherine waited before moving any closer. She spoke quietly. “I’d like to ride her when we become acquainted. I won’t rush her.” “She’s right frisky, Miss, and takes a bit of handling. You’d best talk to George Parsons, the head groom, if you want to take her out.” Catherine studied the mare. “You are a lovely little lady, aren’t you? I’ll come by every day until you are ready to let me ride then we’ll explore the park.” Pip shook his head. “Best not to enter the stall alone unless I’m here or Mr. Parsons. Misty is known to kick when it suits her.” “Very well, I shall be careful until she knows me.” The mare lowered her head and relaxed her neck. Her ears flicked forward, listening. Soon, Catherine thought, Misty would recognize her voice and accept her. She longed for a good run on the back of a spirited horse. But even if Misty tolerated her and she had permission to ride, she hadn’t packed her riding habit. It was stored in a trunk in London with moths likely feeding on the fabric.
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Catherine hurried away from the stable. Not quite ready to face the formidable Lord Glenmore, she walked briskly along a gravel path leading to a hillock. At the top, she drew in a quick breath. Below was an orchard. Buds on the trees still sheathed in their winter coats were fat almost to bursting. In one sunny corner a single tree rushed the season. A few tiny blossoms radiated spring. She had a whole month to spend at Glenmore Manor. The country air smelled of sweet new life. So different from the smoky pall that sometimes hung over London. No matter how badly Lord Glenmore treated her, she expected to have some time to herself. With the windows in her room open to the air, she’d sit on the small balcony and enjoy the sights and scents of spring. Making her way back to the house she met Lady Glenmore in the entrance hall. “We’ll be having tea within the hour. I would like you to join us.” Coming in from the bright sunshine, Catherine had to wait a few seconds in order to see properly. “You will have to show me where to find the dining room, Lady Glenmore. I fear I shall get lost in all the corridors, it took me a while to make my way from my room.” “The house is a rather formidable challenge. The place is much too large. Forty rooms. It was built a century ago when the family entertained large parties and also had numerous children, now we rattle around in it like walnuts in a china cup. I’ve had most of the north wing closed off. The maids air the rooms, spring and autumn.” She tucked Catherine’s arm in hers. “Come, let me show you where to go. We’ll expect you to take all your meals with Edward and me. Breakfast at eight, luncheon at one o’clock, a light tea at four and dinner at eight. We are very informal. Since Richard returned from the Crimea, I no longer entertain. He shuts himself… But there, Miss Thurston, you’ll soon find your way around the house. The small dining room is here.” She paused, a look of concern in her eyes. “How was my son? Have you become acquainted?” Catherine suppressed a smile and lowered her gaze. “Acquainted” hardly described their meeting. “He was not exactly welcoming but another time he may be more amenable.” She’d not tattle about the miserable brute and the book he’d thrown. It was her problem and she’d deal with it. Lady Glenmore sighed. “I have done what I thought best for him, but at times I feel quite without hope. Please do not abandon him yet.” “I do not intend to abandon him, my lady. I agreed to stay for one month and I shall do so.” Catherine mentally mapped the way to the dining room and ran upstairs to freshen up before tea. She walked quickly along the long hallway, heels clicking smartly on the oak floor. “Miss Thurston!”
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Catherine stopped in her tracks. Lord Glenmore’s voice thundered through his closed door. Using the door as a shield against another attack, she opened it slightly and peered around the side into the gloom. “Yes, Lord Glenmore.” She fought to keep her voice steady. “Come here.” “I prefer to stay where I am. I do not like having books thrown at me.” “Come here! I wish you to read to me.” “Now, sir?” Her stomach grumbled. The long walk had sharpened her appetite. “Do you dare question me, Miss Thurston? You are paid to do as you are told, not to question my orders.” Catherine held her ground. “Do you promise not to throw books at me?” “I promise you nothing. Now step inside that I may look at you while you read.” “Not until you give me your word not to…” A book thudded against the door. Catherine stooped, picked it up, stepped out of range and left the door open. Breathing hard, her heart beating double time, she studied the book. “I see this is Boswell’s Life of Johnson. I will fetch a chair from my room, and read to you from here.” Richard heard the scrape of her chair and suppressed a wild desire to laugh. He hadn’t laughed in months. Miss Thurston was fair game. She sounded young, but many a spinster kept a girlish voice. Standing up to him the way she had promised good sport. He’d have her out of the house in less than a week. “Very well, read me all of Chapter Four.” It would take her the best part of the afternoon. He’d tire her until her voice failed. “Do not read too quickly. I may want you to repeat some passages.” Richard settled back in his chair prepared to doze off while his companion droned away. When she began reading, he came fully awake. Miss Thurston did not sound the least bit agitated as he’d expected. Her voice had a rare musical quality, very pleasant to listen to. An hour into the reading, footsteps echoed along the hall. “Miss Thurston, the mistress and Mr. Edward are waiting for you to join them for tea.” “Thank you. Would you inform Lady Glenmore I am reading to her son, perhaps you will have a tray sent up later. I shall have tea in my room.” “Damnation woman, why didn’t you tell me my mother expected you?” Richard shouted. His conscience pricked him, not a lot, but enough to unsettle him. “It’s not my place to refuse your orders, my lord. If you will excuse me, I shall return later and continue reading.” “Very well. Blewett, send me up a tray. I am inclined to eat a little. Miss Thurston’s reading has given me an appetite. I need strength to continue listening to her.”
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Catherine bit her tongue. She longed to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his wretched manners. No one should treat the hired help in such a cruel fashion. She paused briefly to wash her hands and face before descending the staircase and vowed not to allow Lord Glenmore to upset her. If he chose to act like a discourteous boor, she’d refuse to lower herself to his level. As long as she remained outside his door, safe from harm, she’d survive the month with her health intact. Lord Glenmore would not get the better of her, but come March 31 she’d shake the dust of Glenmore Manor from her feet.
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Chapter Three The butler ushered her into the dining room. Lady Glenmore waved her to a seat opposite her at the table. Mr. Edward stood until she took her place. “I am sorry I kept you waiting, my lady.” “Perhaps Richard was unaware we expected you to join us. Blewett tells me you were reading to him. I am pleased. You must be making progress.” “He allows me to read to him, my lady, but since he has twice thrown books at me, I sit outside and read through the open door. Is he always so difficult?” “Capital, capital!” Mr. Edward twinkled at Catherine. His blue eyes sparkled under bushy white brows. “You stood up to him. That’s just what he needs. He played merry hell with the last two comp…” “Hush, Edward, Catherine is not interested in past history. You may serve the soup now, Joseph.” Lady Glenmore nodded at the young footman. Although she was bursting with curiosity about what had happened to previous companions, Catherine was too polite to inquire and much too hungry to waste time talking when she could eat. At the end of the meal she excused herself. “I promised Lord Glenmore to continue reading.” It wasn’t exactly how she had imagined being a companion, sitting outside the door of a madman because she was afraid to tempt fate and enter his rooms. Maligning her with words was one thing, hurling books at her was quite another. She proceeded quietly along the corridor illuminated by lighted candles in bronze sconces. “Is that you, Miss Thurston?” His voice had mellowed from a bark to something like normal speech. Civil. The door was still ajar. Catherine did not trust him. He was trying to lure her into a trap. She waited in the hall. “Yes, my lord. Shall I continue reading?” She looked around for the book. “The book’s not here.” “I had my valet return it to me. I am tired of Mr. Johnson. I desire conversation.” “Conversation?” Catherine tensed. “You heard me, Miss Thurston. You are paid to keep me company, to discuss world affairs, inform me of the latest London gossip, what books are recently published, where one goes to take the waters, the efficacy of sea bathing, and so on.”
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Catherine pulled her chair close to the door. “I shall begin with world affairs. There are reports of warships built by the United States—one in particular, the U.S.S. Constellation, is a twenty-two-gun corvette. There is cholera in London…” “Is that the best you can do, Miss Thurston? I’m not in the mood for bad news. What is the latest London gossip?” Catherine shifted in her chair. She knew nothing of London gossip. How could she? She’d not been to an evening soirée or a tea for weeks. As for riding in the park, stopping now and then to chat with friends, all that was behind her. “I am sorry, Lord Glenmore, I do not move in fashionable circles in London. My mother and I live a very quiet life.” “Then tell me about your quiet life.” To Catherine’s ear, his voice had softened. Was he making a fool of her to laugh at her expense? If she stayed the month as companion to this strange, boorish man, she’d have earned every penny of her wages. “I have nothing to relate that might interest you.” Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. She would not tell him about her father’s illness, how he’d changed from a cheerful family man to a sharp-tongued, gambling fool leaving her and her mother virtuously penniless. “Ha! How clever of you to know what interests me? It is for me to decide what I want to hear. It is not up to you. I wish to hear about your quiet life. Begin.” Catherine could not bear it another minute. The man was impossible, ordering her around like a servant girl as though she were a kitchen skivvy! “I refuse to tell you about my quiet life! I came here to be a companion to someone whom I thought would be a sensible person not a madman. You, sir, are a cruel, insensitive monster. You have no right to torment me because I am poor. I will speak to your mother and leave this house. I’d rather go hungry than remain here to be mocked.” She grabbed the doorknob and slammed his door, rattling the hinges. Angry tears trickled down her cheeks. Picking up her chair, she crossed the hall to her room and locked herself in. Delving into her pocket for a handkerchief, she swiped at her face. “I will not cry! I will not cry! He will not make me cry.” Sorely tempted to invade the lion’s den and whack him over the head before he could retaliate, Catherine thought better of it. Short of rendering him unconscious, how was she to survive? A few hours with Lord Glenmore had shaken her confidence. Questions overwhelmed her. Would Lady Glenmore allow her to leave without working out the month? Did the two days she was ill in bed convalescing count as work? Perhaps she could feign a relapse and return to London. She’d require train fare and money for a hackney carriage from the station.
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She emptied her purse and counted the shillings and pence. She had enough to purchase her train ticket but she’d have to walk from Waterloo. In her rush to leave home and take up her duties, she’d left herself short of money.
***** Richard stared at the door. Perhaps he was cruel for taking out his ill humor on her. The poor thing was probably in her room having the vapors. He hopped over to the bell rope and tugged. Within minutes his valet hurried into the room. “Yes, milord?” “Go to the conservatory and cut one of the orchids. My uncle tells me there are several in bloom. I want a crystal goblet as well. Bring the orchid and goblet here.” “Very good, sir. Will that be all?” “Help me over to my desk and turn up the lamp.” He blinked at the flame. His eyes were still sensitive to light but had improved in the past fortnight. He’d have a valid reason to dismiss his companion when his sight returned to normal. One of her duties was to read to him. Soon he’d be rid of her unwelcome presence. It was beyond reason that his mother expected a weepy spinster to cheer him up. When Pickens left the room, Richard drew his crested writing paper from the desk drawer and dipped his pen in the silver inkwell. What to say to her? Not enough to make her think he wanted her to stay. Dear Miss Thurston—I apologize for upsetting you. Please accept this orchid. My Uncle Edward grows them for a hobby. He’ll not miss this one. That wouldn’t do. Even to his useless companion he could not be so churlish. He crumpled up the paper and started a fresh sheet. Dear Miss Thurston. He paused. What was her first name? From listening to her voice, he thought Mary might suit her. No. Mary was too timid. Miss Thurston was not timid. She had probably won her spurs in a schoolroom of unruly children before retiring to take on less onerous duties as a companion. Elizabeth? Hmm. Possibly. Grace? No. A Grace would not have yelled at him. A Grace would never be a shrew. A Grace would not slam doors. He dipped the pen. I apologize for my boorish behavior. Please accept this orchid. What now? He blotted the paper.
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What harm would it do if he put up with her for a month? She’d been paid three months’ wages and the poor woman obviously needed the money. He signed. Richard. Folded the note and sealed it. Pickens returned with the orchid. It nestled in a little water in the center of a large crystal brandy glass. “Where shall I put it, milord?” “Take it and this note to Miss Thurston’s room. Before you go, light the lamp on the table by my chair. If there’s a copy of Punch downstairs, bring it to me. I’ll read awhile.” Richard heard Pickens knock on her door. A key grated in the lock. “I’ve a note for you, Miss.” Since he’d been near blinded, his hearing had become acute. “A note?” She sounded sniffly. Surely to God he hadn’t made her cry. He could not abide tearful women. “From Lord Glenmore, Miss. He asked me to give you this.” “Thank you.” Catherine closed the door. The orchid was beautiful, its petals pale rose edged with a hint of green. Tiny brown speckles led into its heart. She placed the goblet on the table by her bed and opened the note. He had apologized! Perhaps the orchid was a peace offering. Not one to bear a grudge, especially when it involved not having to pay back her wages, Catherine cheered up. Perhaps the month would pass quickly—a few hours a day reading to him, even conversing… A frown creased her brow. She knew nothing about him other than he’d been wounded in the Crimean War. What might interest him? When no ready answer came to mind, Catherine put on her dark blue coat and tiptoed past his closed door. Lord Glenmore had not asked for her. Catherine strolled through the formal rose garden under a clear blue sky. Overhead a pair of buzzards circled. It was too early for blooms but the roses were beginning to leaf. A robin hopped along the path ahead of her picking up tiny bits of straw. Finding a bench in a sheltered corner where afternoon sunlight bathed the garden in warmth she sat down to think about Lord Glenmore. What did he look like? Until she could actually see him clearly, he was more like a ghostly figure than a real person. He probably had red hair. Every person she’d ever known with red hair had a temper to match. If he was drinking a lot of brandy, he might have a red nose to go with his hair and temper. Why did he shut himself away in those dark rooms? Was he physically deformed? That couldn’t be. If he’d soldiered in the Crimean War, he must have been fit and healthy at one time. She guessed at his age. His mother was still a beauty although there were telltale signs of age at her neck, very much like her own mother. Lady Glenmore was probably fifty. Her son had to be in his twenties or early thirties. An ugly, cranky, disagreeable man with whom she had to match wits.
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Returning indoors, Catherine met one of the servants leaving Lord Glenmore’s suite. Fingers to his lips, he hushed her. “Lord Glenmore has a visitor. He will speak with you in the morning.” Catherine hung up her coat and hat. An empty feeling settled in her stomach. She had looked forward to thanking Lord Glenmore for the orchid even if meant venturing into his den.
***** Cradling the crystal goblet in her hands, she studied the flower and remembered the first posy she’d ever received. She’d been thirteen when a lad from the village thrust a bunch of violets at her. “For you, Miss,” he’d said and, blushing furiously had dashed off. Catherine smiled at the memory. Seven years ago. Her life had been so different then. No money worries. Their large country house had been staffed with servants. They had a stable of fine horses and a trout stream where she’d fished with her brother, Johnny. They’d captured Riena Stanley, a gypsy girl, netting fish. She’d begged them not to hand her over to the gamekeeper and promised her father would reward them if they freed her. Half afraid of going to the gypsy camp, but tempted to do something forbidden by their parents, they’d followed Riena to the colorful caravans ranged in a circle on the nearby common. Riena’s father had given them each an amulet, a charm against sorcery, he told them, his dark eyes gleaming. “They will bring you good luck.” The amulets were similar. Highly polished thin wooden discs delicately carved with crescents and linked dots. He had laced fine leather thongs through tiny holes in the wood and tied them securely. Saying a few words in Romany, he hung an amulet over Catherine’s head before doing the same for Johnny. “Do not lose them,” he’d warned. Catherine still wore the treasure around her neck tucked beneath her bodice or hidden in a pocket. Although luck had deserted her, she kept the amulet. It reminded her of Riena, her gypsy friend, whom she’d not seen since they were children. The sound of an angry female voice in the hallway outside her door startled Catherine. It wasn’t Lady Glenmore but someone younger. “Come to your senses, Richard. I have missed most of the London Season because you refuse to travel. I cannot go about unescorted. Our friends know we are betrothed. Gossip would fly behind my back if I appeared on the arm of another man.” There was a pause. Catherine heard Lord Glenmore say something but couldn’t make out the words. “Very well. I journeyed here especially to speak with you. Send word within a fortnight. I expect you to be more reasonable for my patience is running out.” 27
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Heels clicked rapidly away down the hall. Lord Glenmore was betrothed. Why did his fiancée not spend time with him? He would not require a companion then. The woman’s voice had an unpleasant sharp bullying edge as though trying to force Lord Glenmore to jump to attention. Catherine instantly disliked her. At tea and again at dinner Catherine expected Lady Glenmore or Mr. Edward to comment on the visitor but neither did. Catherine had placed the crystal goblet on the table beside her bed. Perhaps she should send a note to Lord Glenmore thanking him for the orchid. What if he decided to dismiss her? After her tirade, he had every right to send her away. Perhaps the orchid was a peace offering to soften the blow when he discharged her. She’d thank him for the flower in the morning.
***** Richard frowned at the fire flickering in the grate. He wasn’t being fair to Madeline but he did not choose to play the wounded hero in London society, to be flattered and made much of by men and women who knew nothing of war except what they read in the Times. They knew nothing of the horrors. Nothing of the smell of blood, or the pitiful moans of dying men, or the terrible screams of horses torn apart by cannon fire. “But you are a hero.” Madeline’s insistence had grated on him. Crimea was an unmitigated disaster. There was nothing heroic about it. The incompetence of three generals had sent hundreds of brave men to certain death against the Russian guns. The carnage haunted him still. A trooper, riding next to him had his head blown clean off his body. His warm blood had spurted like liquid fire into Richard’s eyes. Half-blinded, he remembered shouting at his men to go back. A burst of shellfire had smashed into his left leg below the knee and torn a gaping hole in his horse’s neck. Staggering like a drunk, the blooddrenched animal had gone down on its knees, screaming. Thrown to the ground, he’d crawled through dead and dying men. In agony from the splintered bone in his leg, he’d hoisted a wounded trooper on his back and struggled to a grassy verge. Out of his mind with pain, not knowing what he was doing, he had set his burden down, crawled back into the melee and dragged one of his men to safety. The lad, no older than eighteen, had perished in his arms. Hundreds of men had died that day. The Light Brigade had suffered terrible losses. His regiment, the 11th Hussars had been decimated when Lord Lucan held back the Heavies until it was too late to assist the Lights. He’d spent months in a wretched field hospital until he was well enough to travel to England. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. He had to think of Madeline. They’d been betrothed before he’d left for the Crimea. He wasn’t fit company now and had no desire to take part in social chitchat or consider marriage.
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Better to stay at home and deal with the devils invading his dreams at night— dreams that turned into nightmares of remembering. Madeline’s latest ultimatum, either he come up to London for the final weeks of the season or she’d break off their engagement, did not sit well. Her voice had grated. He’d had difficulty controlling his irritation. At least he hadn’t thrown a book at her although he’d been sorely tempted. Using his crutches he hobbled to the bell rope. “Bring me tea, Pickens,” he said when his valet arrived. “Find out what Miss Thurston is doing.” “Miss Thurston is having tea with your mother and Mr. Edward, then I believe they are going to have a game of piquet.” “Are they now?” Richard grinned. “Very well. Tell Miss Thurston I expect her in the morning at nine o’clock.” So she plays piquet. Not what he expected of a paid companion. After the difficult interview with Madeline, it was a relief to think of nothing more demanding than a game of piquet with his companion. He almost sent for her then changed his mind. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
***** She knocked on his door precisely at nine. “It is Miss Thurston, Lord Glenmore.” “Come in. I promise not to throw anything at you.” He swung around in his chair to observe her. For the first time in weeks, he had ordered the window curtains opened slightly. He remained in the shadows all the better to have a look at his spinster. She stepped into the room. Pinned in a narrow shaft of sunlight, Miss Thurston appeared like an angelic vision. He’d not expected this. Not golden blonde hair with soft curls framing her serious face and blue eyes the color of cornflowers. She was tall and slender and wore a simple gray dress. Her shoulders squared, she waited quietly. And waited. Richard finally found his voice. “Please sit here.” He beckoned her to a chair close to the window. She remained by the door. “I prefer to stand here. Thank you for the orchid, it is very beautiful.” “It was a peace offering. I owed you something for my boorish behavior.” “You owe me nothing, Lord Glenmore. I expect you have your reasons for being…” She put her fingers to her lips. Richard finished the sentence. “For being an ill-humored madman and a monster. I think those were a few of the terms you used to describe me yesterday.” Even from across the room, he could see the blush coloring her cheeks. Miss Thurston was a very beautiful young woman.
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“Forgive me, I regret my quick temper.” “Very well, all is forgiven. Now come and sit there by the window. If you are to be my companion for the next three months, it is time we became acquainted.” She angled across the room, staying as far away from him as possible. Taking the chair he indicated, she folded her hands on her lap, remained still, and stared at the floor. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip. “What shall we converse about this morning, Miss Thurston?” She raised her eyes. Like limpid pools, Richard decided, being in a poetical frame of mind. “The topic is up to you, Lord Glenmore.” “Good. We shall talk about you. Why are you a paid companion? You do not look like a companion. You do not speak like a companion. You have a hasty temper, not an attractive characteristic for a companion and you threw a book at me.” “You threw it first. I will not be abused.” “When I am ill-humored I have every right to throw books at you.” Sparring with Miss Thurston was a pleasant way to pass an hour or two. “Then you must warn me, my lord, when you are out of sorts. I have a steady arm and a keen eye. Now that the light is brighter in your room I may take aim at your head.” For the first time, Catherine could see him clearly. He had black hair, not the red she’d supposed earlier to match his bad temper and his equally bad manners, but black would do just as well. Despite the suffering etched on his face, he was very handsome with deep-set, dark brown eyes. Doing her best not to stare, she studied him covertly. A rather nice mouth. Taut jaw line. Still uneasy in his presence, she shifted her gaze away from his face to his legs, one crossed over the other. “Oh. No one told me. I didn’t know you were…” “A cripple, Miss Thurston. Does that dismay you?” Bitterness edged his voice. “You’d not take aim at a cripple, is that it?” Catherine winced. All the pleasure drained from the morning. “Please, Lord Glenmore, do not mock me. I did not say you were a cripple, those are your words.” She lifted her chin. “If I have hurt you, I am sorry. Do you wish me to leave?” “No. Stay where you are and converse.” He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Begin.” Catherine breathed deeply and began. “I have walked around some of the estate. The gardens are very fine. One apple tree has a few blossoms. It grows in a sheltered corner of the orchard. I do hope it will survive if we have a frost. Your stable of horses is impressive. One of the lads was currycombing a pretty little mare. He said her name was Misty.” Swallowing hard, she continued. “Do you ride, Lord Glenmore?”
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“Ride? With this?” He straightened up and folded back his left trouser leg. The leg had been amputated below the knee. The scarred stump, the flesh newly healed and still very pink, shocked Catherine. Not knowing what to do or where to look, she clenched her fists and remained locked in misery. “Well, Miss Thurston, does that answer your question?” He rolled back his trouser leg. Catherine rose to her feet and walked to the window, her heart knotted in her chest. She looked over the long avenue of trees for several seconds to regain her composure before turning to face him. “I did not mean to upset you. May I leave now? I shall not trouble you further.” Lord Glenmore grasped his crutches and stood. She had not expected him to be so tall. Although he stooped slightly he was taller than her brother who was six feet. In a swinging, awkward gait, he walked to the door and opened it. “Please leave. I am in no mood to talk.” Wishing she had never answered the advertisement in the Times, Catherine crossed the room. Were all men so difficult? Her father had been good-natured until the last year of his life when something had gone wrong inside his head. “Am I dismissed then? No longer in your employ?” “You are not dismissed. I expect you to work out your three-month contract as my companion. I am not done with you yet.” Catherine glowered at him. “I have no desire to have things done to me. I shall pack my trunk and leave. You cannot force me to stay.” He threw one crutch aside and grasped her around the waist. “I will decide when you may leave this house.” Catherine tilted her head back and stared into his eyes. “No, you will not! I am not a kitchen maid under your control. Release me at once.” He was too close. Much too close. He lowered his head and kissed her. Boldly. Frightened, she parted her lips to call for help. A low moan escaped from Lord Glenmore as his tongue skimmed into her mouth. She threw back her head to free her mouth from his, flattened her hands against his chest and pushed. “My lord, stop at once.” Staggering backward, he released her. In a hop and a skip, he careened into a table, bounced off it and sprawled on the floor. Her heart beating wildly, Catherine flew to where he lay and dropped to her knees beside him. “Please say you are not mortally injured. Say I haven’t harmed you.” Lord Glenmore opened his eyes. “Those are ridiculous requests. How can I answer if I’m mortally injured?” He rolled on his side, grasped the table leg, and hauled himself up. “You may leave now, Miss Thurston.”
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Catherine scrambled to her feet and smoothed her skirt. “Am I dismissed, my lord?” She prayed he would say yes. Surely his mother didn’t expect her to remain with this unpredictable man. “Only for the time being. Please tug the bell rope before you go. I expect you tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
***** Catherine locked her door and paced the floor. Lord Glenmore frightened her. He was moody and difficult, and she did not want to remember his arm around her waist, nor his mouth on hers, but the more she tried not to remember, the more she remembered. No man had ever kissed her like that. The truth of the matter was no man had ever kissed her lips. She had no experience of such kissing but knew full well Lord Glenmore should not have kissed her, not the way he had as though he wanted to eat her. Throwing books at her, insulting her that—she could cope with, but kissing… His kiss made her hot. Made her heart race. Made her jumpy. Perhaps this is how he intended to frighten her into leaving. The bright sun and a warm breeze drifting into her room through the open French doors drew her outside to walk in the grounds and clear the scene with Lord Glenmore from her thoughts. Free until tomorrow morning when she had to face her tormentor again, she visited Misty, and tried to think how to cope. She could move more quickly than he. If he tried to touch her again, she’d beat a hasty retreat. Being set upon by the lord of the manor was not part of her role as his companion. If he persisted in his actions, she would definitely speak to Lady Glenmore and leave without repaying her wages.
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Chapter Four “Shall we have a game of dominoes?” Edward escorted her into the library after dinner and laid the tiles out on a table. “I am very good at dominoes, very good indeed. You keep score. I’m not very good at adding up.” He handed her a sheet of writing paper and a pen. “The inkwell is behind you on the desk.” Lady Glenmore followed them and stood at Catherine’s elbow. “How was Richard this morning? He seemed in a better frame of mind yesterday evening when I popped in before I retired for the night.” Catherine chose her seven dominoes and arranged them in front of her. “He… You did not tell me about Lord Glenmore’s injury. He said he was a cripple, but he is very active.” His mother sighed and settled in a chair close to the fireplace. “Richard was wounded in the Crimea. He had a dreadful time and spent many months in a field hospital. My husband, Lord Glenmore, died while Richard was on active service. When our son returned home, he had changed. “Even Lady Madeline, to whom he is betrothed, is not always a welcome visitor. I did hope someone other than Edward and me would cheer Richard, bring him back to life, but it seems I was mistaken.” Catherine played a five and three. Edward promptly laid a double three across hers. “Ha! Count that up,” he chortled. Distracted by the revelations about Lord Glenmore, Catherine hesitated before playing. “Why is he not fitted with an artificial limb? I have seen men…” Oh dear, she was about to say she had seen men begging on London streets, showing off their wooden legs to gain sympathy from passersby. “I mean, Lord Glenmore might return to society if he could walk properly.” She frowned at her tiles, wishing she had never embarked on this conversation. “It would be better, my dear, not to suggest such a thing to him. He refuses to discuss the possibility. I hoped your coming would brighten his mood. It’s not your fault he prefers to stay in his suite. You have been very patient. Should you wish to leave before the month is up, I will understand.” Catherine was not concentrating on dominoes and Edward won the game. “This morning, Lord Glenmore mentioned that he expected me to stay the full three months.” His mother studied Catherine over her spectacles. “Did he then?” Catherine lowered her gaze and hoped the warmth flooding her cheeks would be attributed to the fire in the hearth. “Perhaps I misunderstood him. He seemed angry with me when I asked if he rode. You have a fine stable.”
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Edward put away the dominoes. “Do you ride? I like a turn around the grounds. Would you join me?” “I would enjoy that but my habit is in London.” “Then we shall send for it! Capital idea. When you’re not reading to Richard, you and I will explore the countryside.” Catherine waited for Lady Glenmore to object. Perhaps a paid companion was not expected to ride. “Do I have your permission, my lady?” “Of course you do. I’ve not ridden for years and Edward enjoys a canter about the grounds. Write to your mother and have her send your habit.” “May I also have her put in my sketching materials? My fingers have been itching to draw your beautiful home and gardens.” “My dear child, I have everything you require here. Open the door to the right of the desk, you’ll find everything you require in there.” Catherine discovered a treasure trove of sketching materials along with an easel and a folding chair. “You are wonderfully kind. When I am not reading to Lord Glenmore or riding with Mr. Edward, I shall sketch.” Happier than she’d been since she arrived, Catherine knew exactly what she would draw first—a view of the house from partway down the drive. Smiling to herself, she bid her companions good night and hurried upstairs. She’d write to her mother at once. Although her riding costume was no longer fashionable, there’d be no one, other than Mr. Edward, to remark on it, and he was much too polite to comment on it. She hoped the moths had not been at her dark green wool skirt and black jacket since it had been folded away two years ago after their horses had been sold. Velvet was all the rage now. Maroon was particularly popular with the gorgeously costumed girls riding in London parks. She’d remind her mother to put in her boots and hat. They were still fashionable. Catherine slowed her pace when she reached the wide hallway leading to her room. A light shone under his door. Holding her breath, she tiptoed past his room. Her right elbow bumped against the wall and she dropped the sketching pad. “Is that you, Miss Thurston, making that dreadful noise?” Catherine sighed. “I am sorry, my lord, I dropped my sketching pad.” Surely he would not ask her to read to him. Not this late. It was well after ten o’clock. “Please come here, I have something to say to you.” She picked up the pad and very slowly opened his door. Several well-placed lamps flooded the room. He swung around in the wing chair and motioned her to step closer to him. “I wish to speak to you without having to shout across the room.”
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“You’ll not throw anything at me?” Catherine still did not trust him. His moods were too unpredictable. She had no desire to be so close he might reach out and put his arm around her. He smiled and shook his head. “No more books. Your aim is too good.” The smile lit up his face. Catherine could scarcely stop staring at him. A lock of black hair fell across his forehead. His mouth was attractive. To her artist’s eye, it was a generous mouth. A square cut chin… “Well, Miss Thurston, when you are through studying me, please step closer.” “Please excuse me, I did not mean to stare. It’s just…it’s just I didn’t expect…” “Didn’t expect what?” She could not tell him she thought him exceedingly handsome and blurted out the first thing that came into her head. “I’m surprised you have black hair.” “Surprised? Why?” Catherine backed toward the door and safety. “Because you are so bad-tempered and throw books at me, I was sure you had red hair. Everyone I know with red hair has a quick temper.” Lord Glenmore threw back his head and burst out laughing. “Miss Thurston, I think you and I will get along well together. I promise not to throw books at you nor threaten you with my bad temper.” “Thank you, my lord. May I take my leave? I am rather tired.” His eyes held hers. “I regret treating you in such a boorish fashion earlier. It was not my intent to frighten you.” Remembering his kiss, Catherine strove to remain calm. “Then we shall say no more about it. Do you wish me to read to you in the morning?” “I think not. Instead, you and I will take a turn about the grounds. Meet me downstairs at nine o’clock.” “But how…but how will you get around?” “My mother ordered a wheeled chair for me some time ago hoping I would make use of it. I have decided to take the air. You will push me along the paths.” “Perhaps you will allow me to sketch you.” “As a cripple in a chair? No, Miss Thurston, you may not sketch me.” He turned his back on her. “Please leave. I am fatigued.”
***** After a fairly restful night Richard used his crutches and assisted by Pickens made his way downstairs. He’d not left his suite in months, and could not believe how weak he felt. His right leg quivered under the strain and his hands and arms, gripping the crutches ached by the time he reached the front door. It had been one hell of a struggle to get that far. 35
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“I’m as weak as a robin, Pickens. Where’s the damned chair so I can sit down?” “In the cloak room, milord, I’ll fetch it at once.” He wheeled the chair over to Richard. God he felt awful—lightheaded like a girl with the vapors. Perhaps this was not a good idea. He’d have Pickens help him upstairs. The grandfather clock chimed nine. With luck, he’d be back in his rooms before Miss Thurston appeared. “Good morning, Lord Glenmore,” she called out and ran down to meet him. “I see you have your chair.” He groaned. He was mad to suggest this ridiculous excursion. Miss Thurston fairly bloomed with good cheer and looked as healthy as a trout. Her cheeks glowed and her blue eyes sparkled under the brim of her straw bonnet. She was remarkably pretty. Why had she not found a husband? London did not lack young men eager to find brides. “Miss Thurston, I have changed my mind and do not wish to go out.” “My lord, it is a glorious day. Spring is really here. You must come out, even for a little while, and smell the air. Let me assist you into the chair.” Helped by a female? Not likely. “I do not require your assistance, Miss Thurston. Pickens, hold the chair steady.” He tossed the crutches aside and dropped into the padded seat. “Now, Miss Thurston, we shall take a turn outside for a few minutes. Down the drive for a short way and back will be sufficient. Pickens, help Miss Thurston take this damned chair down the front steps. She might tip me out.” They started down the drive. The air, full of the scents of spring and bird song, energized Richard. He breathed deeply enjoying the moment. Enjoying the feel of the warm breeze. Enjoying Miss Thurston. She pushed the chair slowly and leaned over to speak to him. “There’s a wren building a nest in the hedge over there. I watched her yesterday. If we stay quiet, she might show herself.” In absolute silence, they waited. Richard rested his head on the back of the chair. Far away, a dog bayed, likely one of the hounds out coursing the grounds searching for rabbits. In a small stand of trees off to the side, a chaffinch burst into its cheeky song. “There,” Miss Thurston whispered into his ear. “Do you see her?” Richard nodded though he’d not seen the wren. Tendrils of hair from under his companion’s bonnet brushed his cheek. Without thinking he raised his hand and threaded his fingers through her feathery soft silky curls. She jerked upright and swung the chair around. “Shall we return to the house, my lord? I do not wish to tire you.” Richard glanced over his shoulder to observe her. She straightened her bonnet and retied the ribbons under her chin. A pink flush colored her cheeks. His touch had alarmed her and alarmed him into desiring her.
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Desire Miss Thurston? He cleared his throat. The spring air had addled his brain. “I am not yet ready to return. Please take me toward the stable area. There is a pleasant stretch of lawn nearby and a bench under a beech tree. I shall sit there while you have one of the grooms fetch Misty. It’s time I became reacquainted with her. She’s a favorite of mine. I raised her from birth. She’s full of spirit and hard to handle.” Catherine trundled the heavy chair along the winding path that circled the house. Arriving at the lawn, she blanched at the prospect of wheeling him over to the tree. “My lord, I doubt if I can push you across the grass to the bench. Shall I run back inside for your crutches? Perhaps you can make your way…” “No.” He snapped. “I shall stay here. Be careful around Misty. Let one of the grooms handle her. She’s not at ease with strangers.” Catherine hurried to the stables. “Hallo. Is anyone here?” A horse nickered. Catherine searched up and down. Where were the grooms? The stalls were empty except for one. Misty poked her head over the half door and pricked her ears. “Well, Misty, what do you think? Lord Glenmore is anxious to see you and the grooms must be out exercising the other horses.” She smoothed her hand over the mare’s nose and rubbed under her chin. Misty nuzzled her head against Catherine’s shoulder. “Will you let me take you?” Nervous about entering the stall without one of the grooms present, Catherine slipped the bolt, opened the door, and stepped inside. The mare flicked her ears, muscles rippled at her shoulders, her neck tensed and she backed away. Catherine paused—waited for the mare to relax her neck before speaking to her. “There now. No need to be afraid. I like horses, and I especially like you.” Remaining still, she shifted her gaze away from Misty and waited for the mare to make the first move. Misty sidled toward Catherine and snuffled at her. Whatever she smelled seemed to please her. Confident the mare had accepted her, Catherine unhooked a braided leather lead rope from the side of the stall, clipped it to Misty’s bridle, and walked her outside. Jogging along with the frisky mare, Catherine ran up to Lord Glenmore, laughing. “What the hell do you think you are doing, Miss Thurston?” He tried to stand up and fell back in his chair. “The grooms must be out exercising the other horses so I…” Catherine wilted under the anger blazing in his dark eyes. She halted Misty and whispered, “Behave yourself or he’ll blame me if you don’t.” “So you decided to risk injury instead of waiting for one of the grooms. You are a fool, Miss Thurston.” “And you are bad-tempered, Lord Glenmore. I am not a fool. I have been around horses all my life. Misty is no more difficult than any other skittish animal. I’ve visited her almost every day. She and I are friends.” Catherine stood her ground. Lord
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Glenmore would not intimidate her. “Now, do you want me to return her to the stable or will you stop frowning and speak to her?” He clucked at the mare and she trotted toward him. Seeing them together, Misty nuzzling his neck and Lord Glenmore rubbing his hands over her flank, Catherine forgot her ill humor. A picture captured her imagination. Tonight she would set up the easel in her room and sketch. She’d show the sun glinting on the mare’s sleek chestnut hide, Lord Glenmore in profile, his dark head resting against her flank. She’d not draw him in the chair. The sketch would have him sitting at an angle on a stone wall with the horse beside him. A groom ran up the path toward them, skidded to a stop, and removed his cap. “My lord, how did Misty come here? I was exercising Kip, came back, and found her missing.” “My companion, Miss Thurston, seems to have a way with horses. She brought her to me.” The groom smiled at Catherine. “I mind you, now. You’ve come by a few times, like as not Misty remembered you talking to her.” “She’s a lovely creature. I would dearly love to ride her someday.” Catherine bit her tongue and hoped she had not overstepped herself. Lord Glenmore was in a testy mood. “Take Misty to the stable, Tom. I’m returning to the house.” Lord Glenmore nodded at Catherine. She grasped the handles of the chair, turned it around and began the slow push back to the house. He remained silent. Her arms trembled from the effort of wheeling the clumsy chair. She sighed with relief when they reached the front steps of the manor. If these excursions were to continue she’d require assistance with the chair. “If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ll send for Pickens and one of the footmen to lift your chair into the house. I fear my arms are not strong enough to move you safely.” She started up the steps. “Come back, Miss Thurston. Please sit down.” He motioned to a stone bench at the side of the steps. Grateful to sit she waited for him to speak. Discomposed under his intense scrutiny, she lowered her gaze and concentrated on the activity of an ant dragging a dead wasp across a flagstone. She wished he would say something. The ant disappeared into a crack under the steps. “Do you wish to ride?” Catherine raised her eyes. He was not exactly smiling, but he was not frowning either. More like he was thinking. “If it is convenient, my lord, and does not encroach on my time with you. Mr. Edward suggested he and I might take a turn around the grounds. Lady Glenmore agreed. I have written my mother asking her to send my riding costume.”
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He studied her closely. “What experience have you had with horses?” “We had a small stable at my home in Dorset. I’ve been riding all my life. My brother and I used to…” Catherine paused. Lord Glenmore raised his brows. “Your brother?” “He has gone abroad, my lord. I’ve not heard from him for…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. Johnny had been away for so long, and she missed him. “We used to take half wild ponies and teach them good manners. When we finished our work, they were easy and gentle, perfect for the neighbors’ children to ride.” “Very well. If you are confident you can handle Misty, you may ride her. But take care. When you are in the saddle, she’ll try to bend you to her will. She’s not a rough pony but a very fine thoroughbred with a temperament to match. Only Parsons, the head groom, exercises her. She was one of my favorite mounts before…before…” His face hardened. “Call Pickens, I am weary of your company.” Stung by his last remark, Catherine chose to ignore it. “My lord, why do you not try to ride? You have a good knee on your…on your wounded leg, and there’s nothing wrong with your arms and hands. Surely if riding gives you pleasure, you…” “Miss Thurston, you become too familiar. You are my paid companion not my advisor. I do not wish to ride, is that clear? Do not mention the subject again.” Put firmly in her place, Catherine rose to her feet, straightened her back, and walked up the steps. Seething with anger, she paused under the portico and stared down at him. “Lord Glenmore, I do not enjoy being your companion. God help me, had I known I would have to spend my days with an arrogant, ill-mannered boor I never would have come. You sit in that gloomy room feeling sorry for yourself because you were wounded in the Crimea. “You are one of the lucky ones. You have wealth, a magnificent home, the comfort of a family, and are a privileged member of society. The wounded soldiers I see begging on the London streets put you to shame. They have nothing. No hope. Nothing. And you have everything to live for. A fiancée who cares for you. A wonderful loving mother. And you have responsibilities to your tenants, to your land, to your…” He glared at her. “Have you finished, Miss Thurston?” Catherine gasped. She had gone too far. “I am sorry, my lord. Please forgive me.” She turned on her heel. “I will send for Pickens. Good morning.” She passed Pickens as she hurried to her room and gave him Lord Glenmore’s message. Whatever had possessed her to speak like that to his lordship? She agonized over what she had said and longed to take back every word. But he had been very rude, taking his bad temper out on her because of her innocent remark about him attempting to ride.
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If he wanted to stay shut up in the house for the rest of his life, what business was it of hers? When he reported her behavior to Lady Glenmore, she’d dismiss Catherine on the spot. Anxiety tightened her throat. Her mother had taken it into her head to purchase an expensive gown for evening wear instead of settling the account with the coal merchant. Her last letter had shocked Catherine. “I simply had to have something new. An invitation came from Lady Newberry to attend an evening function and I did feel the need for a little company. Since you left, I have been quite bereft…” Either she had to go down on her knees and apologize to Lord Glenmore or risk dismissal. Dismissal without a reference at that. She had to apologize. Still angry with him and his bad manners, she changed her mind about painting him with Misty. Instead, she set up her easel, pinned on a piece of sketching paper, and began a charcoal drawing of bad-tempered Lord Glenmore. With a few swift strokes, she had him down perfectly. Black hair, glowering dark eyes, a frown on his brow, and his mouth in a tight, disapproving line. Catherine grinned at the sketch. She loved cartooning. Inspired, she printed a line below his face. “Miss Thurston. You are a fool who does not know her place. Kindly speak when you are spoken to.” She added a small drawing of herself in the lower right-hand corner. She was on her knees, hands clasped in prayer, head bowed. Circling her humble figure, she scrolled. Forgive me, Lord Glenmore. I will remain silent, unless ordered to speak. Having rid herself of her antagonism to Lord Glenmore by taking it out on the sketch, she picked up a book she’d laid aside earlier and sat outside on the small balcony to read. She’d wait awhile before apologizing. Wait until his anger cooled or he might throw something at her.
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Chapter Five Shaken to the core, Richard stared blindly into space. Is this what he’d become? An object of pity? Scorned by his companion. He’d taken out his anger on her as if she were responsible for his injuries. “Shall I move you into the house, milord?” “Not yet, Pickens, I’ll stay here awhile longer. Leave my crutches on the steps. I’ll make my own way in.” Alone, he wheeled himself down the drive to the hedge where she had seen the wren. Her brutally frank words had cut deep into his heart—into the dark place where he’d sought to hide from life. A flickering movement caught his eye. The wren darted into a tiny opening in the hedge. He eased back in his chair and remained quiet hoping she would reappear. Spring had arrived without him knowing it. Earth smells, budding trees, and bird song invaded his senses. He’d always loved the spring. Bird-nesting with Dolly. Gathering frog spawn in jars. Digging up worms to bait their fishhooks. Catching trout in the river. Life was perfect then. And now? He studied his hands. They were strong. He stretched out his right leg. It would strengthen once he started walking. He rolled up his left trouser leg. There was nothing wrong with his thigh and knee. His muscles needed work. Could he ride again? Did he want to try? What if he was fitted for an artificial limb? Would that help him ride and walk? He wheeled around and started back to the house. He could either join the human race again or…or what? Stay shut up in his rooms with Miss Thurston reading to him until her three months were up. And what if she left before then, tired of his ill humor and insults? He’d miss her. Miss her lively presence. Miss the fire in her blue eyes when she chose to speak her mind. A footman dashed down from the house to assist Richard. “Your crutches, my lord.” Richard stood and awkward as a babe taking its first steps, made his way into the house, up the staircase and along to his suite. Muscles aching with fatigue, he staggered into his room and bumped the door shut behind him. He really had to do leg and arm strengthening exercises.
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His valet helped him off with his jacket and shirt and laid out a change of clothing. “While I wash and change, please knock on Miss Thurston’s door. Tell her to come at once. I wish to speak with her.” “Yes, milord.” Richard bathed in cool water and dipped his head into the washbasin to wet his hair. Pickens hurried into the bathroom. “She’s not there, milord.” “Not there? She must be there. Help me dress, I’ll go with you.” She had ripped into him, dared to say things no one else had. Miss Thurston did not lack courage. His sharp words had obviously upset her. Her eyes had sparkled with tears before she turned her back on him and stormed into the house. She deserved an apology. Dammit. He was forever apologizing to the woman. He’d have handled a man better. Would have been rid of him double quick. But Miss Thurston…she was different. He didn’t like to think of her crying. He rested on his crutches while Pickens knocked on her door. “Not a sound, milord. Shall I try later?” “Knock harder. She’s likely having the vapors.” Silence from the other side. “Open the door, Pickens.” Concerned she might be weeping into her pillow, Richard stood in the doorway and gazed into her room. Neat as a pin, except for her coat and bonnet on the bed. The orchid was on her beside table. His companion sat on the small balcony. Intent on her book, she was unaware of his presence. The sketch on her easel caught his eye. “Pickens,” Richard whispered. “Take that drawing from the easel and bring it to my room, I wish to study it.” Like a conspirator intent on stealing the crown jewels, Pickens tiptoed across the floor, removed the sketch, and tiptoed back to Richard. “What shall I do with it, milord? Miss Thurston might not take kindly to me stealing her sketch.” A worried frown pinched his face. “You are innocent, Pickens. If she inquires about her drawing, I will confess to stealing it.” He followed his valet across the hall. “It is not a good likeness, milord, although she does have you down pat when you are out of sorts.” “Quite, Pickens, I shall have to be more pleasant. I’ll not be fit to return to society with such a face.” “You’re returning to society, milord?” Caught by surprise, his valet raised his brows. “I think I may.” Richard settled into a chair, whirled around, and faced the open window. Sunshine streamed in. “Send for my mother, Pickens. She’ll be pleased to accompany me to
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London. I will require you to attend me and bring along young Morton in case I require assistance in and out of trains and carriages. Now hand me that sketch.” “Very good, milord, I’ll inform her ladyship. She’ll be very pleased.” Pickens paused at the door. “Would you care for a brandy, milord? I purloined a bottle from the cellar.” Richard shook his head. “Later, perhaps, before I retire for the night. It will help me sleep.” Miss Thurston’s sketch amused him. She had an artistic flair and a sense of humor. He’d insist she read to him after luncheon. Weary after walking with his crutches he hoped her restful voice would help him fall asleep. His nights were wakeful. The carnage in Crimea, the dead littering the bloody battlefield, so many young lives lost to no good purpose, gave him no peace. Although he’d not been involved in planning the charge against the Russian guns, he had been part of the officer corps that had led so many young men to their deaths. He rubbed his temples. God in heaven would it never leave him? He’d not mounted a horse since returning home. Something held him back. Not just his amputated leg. Something else. He could not free himself from the evil he’d witnessed. Until today. His excursion with Miss Thurston had lifted his spirits. The spring air, the wren building her nest, Misty nuzzling into him, had acted like a tonic. But Miss Thurston’s time with him was running out. In less than a fortnight, her first month would be up. She might return to London if she found him too unpleasant. Short of keeping her a prisoner, he could not force her to stay for three months. He had to persuade her of his change of heart. She’d enjoy spending spring and early summer in the country. They might even ride together. Before that, he had to visit London, speak to a surgeon about an artificial limb, make peace with Madeline, and for her sake, force himself to attend at least one social event. Madeline. Days passed and he never thought of her. Perhaps their hasty betrothal had been a mistake. He could not imagine a future with her, fathering their children, being a dutiful husband. What had changed him? The war? God knows it had made him unfit company for everyone except close family. How did Miss Thurston fit into his life? He studied the drawing again. She’d sketched him as a miserable arrogant brute and herself as a poor little humble creature. Humble she was not. He’d not quite taken the measure of her yet, but humble did not describe his companion. She had a sharp tongue and a pen to match. They’d become better acquainted on his return from London. An unwelcome heaviness settled on his heart. What if she disliked him so intensely she would not countenance staying beyond one month?
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***** Catherine closed her book, stood, and stretched her arms above her head to ease the ache in her shoulders. She sincerely hoped Lord Glenmore would take pity on her and have one of the young male servants push the wheeled chair if he planned another turn outside. Perhaps he’d not want her company since he did not seem to care how he spoke to her or how his sharp words cut. But he did say she could ride Misty, unless he changed his mind after her tirade on the front steps. She’d write him a note apologizing for her behavior and draw the line at going down on her knees to beg for mercy. Debtor’s prison beckoned if he sent her home early. Her first month as companion to the unpredictable, ill-humored Lord Glenmore would soon be up. Or would it? Was she expected to make up for the days she’d been ill? Had she the courage to remain if Lord Glenmore insisted she work the full three months for which she had been paid? Perhaps he enjoyed tormenting her. The clock ticked quietly on the mantel in her room. Luncheon would be served within the half-hour. She’d been out with Lord Glenmore longer than she realized and was sincerely glad to be rid of him. She hung up her coat and bonnet and tidied her hair. Before leaving her room she paused in front of her easel to remove the sketch. Where was it? She’d left it pinned to the easel. It wasn’t there! It had to be there. It had to be. Had she slipped it into the back of the sketching pad? She flicked through every page. Nothing. Catherine scurried around the room. She opened every drawer in the wardrobe, peered under the bed and turned back the bedding until she’d searched every nook and cranny. She had to find it. No one must see it. Why had she made him look like the devil himself or close to the devil, although she had never seen such a creature? Catherine plunked down on the bed. A thief had entered her room and taken the sketch. Why? One of the servants? Anna would never do such a thing, but perhaps she had come in to put away laundered clothing and the cartoon had offended her. If Lady Glenmore saw the stupid drawing, she’d be angry. She adored her son and would not take kindly to Catherine mocking him. She’d be dismissed, would have to return two months’ wages and did not have the money. No apology, however abject, would stem Lady Glenmore’s wrath. Even Mr. Edward, kindly soul that he was, might fail to understand her sketch was not meant for public viewing nor did she mean to ridicule Lord Glenmore. It was just a bit of foolishness. She meant no harm. Catherine trailed downstairs to the dining room. Misery dogged her footsteps. Lady Glenmore met her at the door. Now the blow would fall. “I have wonderful news. Richard and I are traveling to London tomorrow. Isn’t that splendid? You have done wonders for him. I understand you had him out of doors this 44
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morning. He is almost like his old self.” Gesturing with her diamond-ringed hands, Lady Glenmore fairly glowed with happiness. “Richard and Dolly are always such fun. I feel quite invigorated and will purchase new gowns in London. When Richard is perfectly well, we’ll have parties here like we used to.” Giddy, her head in a whirl, Catherine steadied herself against the side of the door. She’d expected to be dismissed or severely reprimanded. “He is going to London? With Dolly?” “No, Miss Thurston, not with Dolly. Richard has decided to visit a physician and inquire about an artificial limb.” “I am pleased, my lady.” Still confused at hearing the unexpected news and curious about Dolly, Catherine risked asking about her. Did Lord Glenmore have a mistress as well as a fiancée? Did she live in the neighborhood? Why had no one mentioned her? “Is Dolly a close relative?” “Dear me, have I not mentioned him? Dolly is my younger son. He is serving in India with his regiment. I’ve just received a letter saying he’s on his way home on leave. You’ll like Dolly. He’s an awful tease. When he was a lad, he used to gather toads and let them loose in the kitchen. Fearing to step on them, the maids jumped up on chairs, shrieking. I finally put a stop to his antics when he brought grass snakes into the dining room and the butler fainted dead away. Is that not true, Blewett?” The butler turned away from supervising a footman placing a soup tureen on the sideboard. “I thought my end had come when they slithered around under my feet.” Catherine and Lady Glenmore took their places. Edward hurried in to join them. “What’s this I hear, Marie Claire? Is Richard really going to London? Pickens informed me he was out with Miss Thurston but I found it hard to believe. Why he’s not stepped foot outside his suite since he returned home four months ago. Do you wish me to accompany you?” “Not at all, you stay here and amuse Miss Thurston until we return. She has done wonders for Richard. He actually had a turn around the garden with her this morning.” Sick at heart about the missing sketch, Catherine had another worry. With Lord Glenmore away she had no duties. No particular reason to remain at the manor. “My lady, if you and Lord Glenmore will be away for several weeks, I must return some of the money you’ve paid me.” “Nonsense, Miss Thurston. You have earned every penny. We should not be more than a fortnight in London. Dolly is expected within the next month or so, depending on whether the clipper he boards is blessed with favorable winds. I certainly don’t want to miss his arrival.” She leaned across the table and patted Catherine’s hand. “You and Edward can ride together. Enjoy this lovely spring weather when you have your costume.”
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Catherine breathed a temporary sigh of relief. Her wretched sketch had not surfaced. One of the servants must have taken it. She had to find and destroy it. Lady Glenmore deserved better than a scurrilous cartoon insulting her son. Catherine excused herself after luncheon and hurried along the hallway to her room. “Miss Thurston.” Pretending not to hear, she tiptoed to her door and opened it. She had to find the sketch. “Miss Thurston! Please come here. I wish you to read to me.” Lord Glenmore’s commanding voice thundered from his suite. Catherine’s heart sank. She peeked in her room, hoping by some miracle the sketch was back on the easel. It wasn’t. Fearing the thief might return and take something else she locked the door and dropped the key in her pocket. Still cautious, not at all sure he might not throw something at her, especially after this morning, she opened his door. Slowly. An inch at a time. He sat facing her. His grim expression did not bode well. Did he regret his promise about allowing her to ride Misty? His moods changed so quickly from sun to cloud to full-blown storm, all without warning. She remained alert. “Come in. Don’t lurk over there. I am not going to hurl a book at you although you deserve it.” Like a soldier approaching an enemy she left the door open to prepare for a hasty retreat, if necessary. “Oh no!” She could not believe her eyes. Her sketch hung from the mantel anchored in place by two brass candlesticks. “Where did you get that? It’s mine. Someone stole it!” She rushed to retrieve it. Lord Glenmore reached across with one of his crutches and cut her off. “Stay where you are, Miss Thurston. I wish to discuss art with you.” Catherine stamped her foot. She hadn’t stamped her foot since she was three years old, but if she didn’t stamp her foot and relieve her feelings, she might seize his crutch and whack him with it. “You stole my sketch! How dare you enter my room and take something that belongs to me. I demand its return. You have no right to treat me like this.” She ducked around him and grabbed the sketch. The brass candlesticks clattered to the stone hearth. The base broke off one and clinked to a halt by the curb. Catherine’s hand flew to her lips. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay to have it repaired.” She tried to choke back tears. A few drops escaped and trickled down her cheeks. “For God’s sake, don’t cry, it’s my fault. I should not tease you. Come, dry your eyes. Here’s a handkerchief. Would you care for a brandy? There’s a decanter and glasses on the table by my desk. Pour me one as well.” She sniffled into the linen. “I don’t want your brandy.” 46
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“Have some water, there’s a carafe there.” “I don’t want your water.” She ripped a corner of the sketch. “Please don’t tear it up.” She glanced at him. His voice was gentle. A smile banished the suffering that usually marked his face. “I am very sorry, my lord. I never meant anyone to see the sketch. It’s a very bad likeness.” “Not at all, my valet says it an excellent likeness when I am out of sorts. May I keep it?” “Keep it? Oh no, my lord, I do not want anyone else to see it. I regret doing it.” Why should she apologize? He was in the wrong. Not her. Furious at him, she threw his handkerchief on the table and scowled. “You should not have stolen it! That was a mean-spirited thing to do. What were you doing in my room? Surely I have a right to privacy.” “Before you sit down, Miss Thurston, so we may talk, please fetch me a small brandy, sparring with you has dried my throat.” Still seething, Catherine poured a measure for him, water for herself, handed him the brandy, and took a seat near the window. She rolled up the offending sketch and curled her fingers around it. She should apologize for the dreadful things she had said to him earlier, but he had to ask her pardon first for stealing the sketch! Lord Glenmore sipped the brandy and gazed at her over the rim of the glass. “I had Pickens knock at your door. When there was no answer, I feared you were upset because I spoke harshly to you. I thought you might be crying and wanted to make amends. I ordered Pickens to open the door. The sketch was in plain view.” He put down the glass. “I had no right to enter your room. I apologize. However, I could not resist the sketch. It is very clever. I really would like to keep it to remind me not to glower so often.” “If your mother sees how I pictured you, she will be offended.” “I shall keep it in my bedchamber. Please let me have it and do sign your name on the bottom. There’s ink and a pen on my desk.” Not sure whether this was a polite request or a direct order, Catherine decided it was an order and obeyed. She signed her name and the date, rolled up the sketch, handed it to him and sat down on an ottoman close to his chair. “I’m sorry I was so rude to you when we returned from our walk this morning. I had no right to speak like that.” “You had every right. I was discourteous and deserved every word. Say no more about it.” Catherine brightened as a burden lifted from her shoulders. “Lady Glenmore informed me of your plans to visit London for a fortnight. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
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“Thank you. What about you, Miss Thurston? Mother suggested you remain here until we return. How will you occupy yourself without having to attend a cranky invalid?” Catherine laughed. “You’re not an invalid, Lord Glenmore, just cranky, and not all the time. I think I would have been bored reading to a languishing lady. When I was engaged to come here, I truly did believe I would be attending a lady not a…” “Not an ill-humored male who threw books at you and made you unhappy.” He leaned forward and clasped her hand. “Thank you for putting up with me.” His touch sent tingles coursing across her palm. Her hand rested within his for several seconds before she withdrew it. Struggling to maintain a semblance of composure as her heart, for some reason, danced a jig, Catherine rose to her feet and walked to the window. His sitting room overlooked the long avenue of trees lining the drive. Not yet in leaf, they basked in the warm spring sun. “Do you wish me to read to you, Lord Glenmore?” She turned to face him. He was leaning back in his chair, studying her. “Yes. Your voice is very restful. My eyes still tire easily. I might nod off for an hour or two. I do not sleep well during the night.” “What shall it be, my lord, The Life of Johnson? We barely started on it. I see it on the table beside your chair.” He picked it up. “Excellent. That will surely do the trick.” He finished the brandy. “What is your Christian name? I am tired of calling you Miss Thurston.” “Catherine, my lord.” A roguish smile tipped his lips. “Catherine suits you, but I will call you, Kate. You are definitely a Kate. Not exactly a shrewish Kate but a Kate with definite views and a hasty temper.” “I should hope I am not like Shakespeare’s Kate!” A flush heated her cheeks. “What is more, I do not spell my name with a K. I am Catherine with a C. No one has ever called me Kate.” “Then I shall be the first. You will be Kate.” “Lord Glenmore, I believe you are teasing me.” She tried not to smile but to no avail. The smile would not stop. “I would not dream of teasing Kate. She might throw something at me.” He set aside The Life of Johnson. “Let us try something different. There is a volume of Shakespeare on my bookshelf. I should like you to read from The Taming of The Shrew. I fancy learning more about the shrewish Kate.” “My lord, I think the Life of Johnson would help you sleep. I tend to act out the parts when I read from a play. My acting is very bad—it might spoil your temper.” She suppressed a giggle. “You should smile more often, Kate. It suits you. You have a rather delightful dimple at the side of your mouth.”
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Catherine blushed. Her cheeks were surely crimson. She was not prepared for Lord Glenmore’s compliment about her appearance. It was just as well he was going to London for a fortnight. It would give her an opportunity to recover her equilibrium. His changeable temper was disconcerting—his compliment particularly disconcerting. She found the Shakespeare and seated herself on the window seat, a safe distance from him. Far enough so he could not hold her hand again. “Shall I begin reading now, my lord?” “Yes and you are to stop calling me Lord Glenmore or my lord. My name is Richard. If you call me Lord Glenmore or my lord again, I might be tempted to throw something at you.” Sure her face was flaming red, Catherine bent her head over the book and feared her voice would come out a breathless croak. Doubtless he was in high spirits at the thought of going to London. She would humor him. On his return, their relationship would return to what it had been at the beginning. She cleared her throat. “Close your eyes, Richard. I shall begin.” “Very good, Kate. Do your best.”
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Chapter Six Soon his slow, steady breathing told her he was asleep. Catherine read on for several minutes then set the book aside. Free to gaze at him, she studied this man who had made her life so miserable she wanted to run away. In repose, his face lost all trace of suffering. His mouth curved in a slight smile. Was he dreaming about London? About his fiancée? His head drooped forward. Catherine picked up a small pillow and tucked it behind his head. Unable to help herself, she brushed back strands of black hair fallen across his brow. He stirred, and she held her breath, praying he had not felt her touching him. She would die of embarrassment. When he didn’t waken, she returned to the window seat, read aloud awhile longer but her fingers itched for her sketching pad. Perhaps there was paper in his desk. Tiptoeing across the room, she opened one drawer, then another until she found what she wanted and returned to her seat with paper, a firm blotting pad, pen and a bottle of ink. Catherine thought to draw him first in profile. She had not paid too much attention to his nose. His eyes and mouth had captured her artist’s eye. He had a splendid nose. Not perfect. It had a slight bump on the bridge. It suited his face. She drew him with his head tilted slightly back, chin raised, and just enough of his well-muscled neck to balance the sketch. Satisfied with his profile, she stood in front of him to plan her next drawing, a frontal likeness. There’d not be a trace of bad temper in this sketch. Seated on the ottoman, she drew a quick outline, and knew, at once, what she was doing was wrong. His profile was one thing. Drawing him asleep did not feel right. It was too much like invading his privacy without asking permission. She’d enjoy drawing him with his eyes open. He’d be looking at her in that particular way he had, one eyebrow quirked in an inquiring arch. A smile on his lips. But could she do that without feeling all warm and quivery inside? Her fingers would not hold her pen steady. Catherine studied his hands resting on the arms of the chair. He had strong, square, capable hands. Hands that held hers mere minutes ago taking her breath away. It would be safe to sketch them. Lord Glenmore. She could not bring herself to think of him as Richard. Her sketches complete, she signed them, “Kate”, folded them and slid them into her pocket as a keepsake for the future after she’d left Glenmore Manor and he’d have long forgotten his companion.
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Why had he taken it into his mind to call her Kate? She did not think of herself as a Kate. She returned the blotting pad, pen and ink to his desk, crossed back to the window and resumed her seat. Back resting on the wall, she drew her knees up to her chin, prepared to stay until he wakened. She supposed that is what companions did, stayed until they were told to leave. He might ask her to continue reading. Until this past hour, her times with Lord Glenmore had been fraught with danger. Not physical danger exactly, unless she counted their first meeting when he very nearly hit her with a book. It was the cruel things he’d said that hurt. She was better able to cope with a thrown book than painful assaults on her character. Drowsing in the late afternoon sun beaming through the window, Catherine wondered about her future after she left the manor. After dealing with Lord Glenmore’s hostility, she felt able to cope with almost anything except another difficult man. There’d not be another Lord Glenmore in her life. She had learned her lesson. One invalid like him was quite enough. Advertising her services in the Times might be useful, stating unequivocally her preferences. Ladies only need apply. He shifted in his chair. For seconds his eyes blinked open. Gazing around the room, he caught sight of Catherine, smiled, closed his eyes, and settled back. Relaxed in sleep, all the tension she had observed in his body seemed to fade away. Whenever he smiled at her, which had not been often, the taut lines around his mouth disappeared. Perhaps the visit to London and the cheerful presence of his fiancée would finally drive away the sadness still lurking behind his dark eyes. Catherine sighed. How peaceful, quiet and dull it will be without him. He’d kept her edgy and off balance every minute she had spent with him. Until now. When he wakened, he might revert to his miserable, bad-tempered self. Catherine grinned. There was never a dull moment around Lord Glenmore.
***** The hours Richard had spent with Kate had passed quickly. He was sorry when the day ended. It was close to midnight when he settled down in bed, pillows propped behind his back. The lamp on the nearby table burned low. He had slept for two hours in the afternoon while Kate read to him, two blessed hours without a disturbing dream. He’d surfaced every now and then, heard her voice, and drifted back to sleep. When he wakened, she had set the book aside, and sat sideways on the window seat, her knees drawn up to her chin, her face turned away from him. Sunlight glinted through her hair, turning it golden like corn silk. Tendrils had escaped from the dark blue ribbon holding them in place and drifted in tantalizing curls over her ears. Unaware of him, she had seemed quietly content waiting for him to waken.
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He hated the nights. Hated the horrors awaiting him when he closed his eyes. The nightmares that plagued him had ceased this past week. Damnation, he was like a child in the nursery, wanting Kate to read him to sleep and stay with him during the night. To chase away the monsters. He smiled remembering the monsters of his childhood. When he and Dolly were young lads, they had scared themselves witless with ghost stories, especially stories about monsters hiding in the wardrobe or climbing up the outside walls with clawed feet and stealing into their room. But there were no monsters out there. They were in his head, locked up until he fell asleep at night when they stole out to haunt him. He’d be shouting orders to his troopers, spurting blood burning his eyes, his horse screaming in agony, men all around him, falling like flies, trailing their guts. He shuddered. Little wonder his temper was unpredictable, lashing out at Kate as if she were responsible for his sleepless nights. Settling back on the pillows, he thought about her, about why she had sought employment as a companion. She did not have the look of a companion, and her accent labeled her as someone from a background similar to his. A woman as attractive as Miss Kate Thurston should have suitors clamoring for her attention. Relaxed, eyes closed, he pictured her as she walked toward him leading Misty. She’d been laughing then, and the mare, dancing at the end of the lead, seemed to be laughing with her… Richard wakened and glanced at the clock on the mantel. A cock crowed on the estate farm. Either he was not seeing straight or it was half past seven o’clock in the morning. He’d slept through the night. He tugged the bell rope to summon Pickens. The valet hurried into the bedchamber. “Yes, milord.” “Pickens, what time is it?” Pickens stepped over to the mantel and peered at the clock. “A minute or two past the half-hour, milord. It is half past the hour of seven.” “Is it, by God? I’ve not slept like that for months.” He threw aside the covers. Naked to the waist, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, slipped a silk robe over his shoulders, and reached for his crutches. “You look rested, milord. Was your night undisturbed? I did not hear you call out.” “I read until late and must have fallen asleep.” He made his way to the window. The last thing he remembered was picturing Kate with Misty. The image he’d conjured up seemed so real he half expected to see his companion riding the mare down the drive. “You’ll be off to London this morning, milord. Lady Glenmore informed me, you expect to be in town for a fortnight. A bit of a rush but I’ve got your trunk packed and ready to go.”
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Richard frowned. London? Why was he going to London? Yesterday it had seemed a splendid idea, a pleasant diversion, now he wished to enjoy Kate’s company a little longer. He’d postpone the journey until after she left his employ. Having made that decision, he propped his crutches under his arms, and made his way to the bathroom adjoining his suite. Whistling through his teeth he stropped his razor, lathered his face and went about the tricky business of shaving without Pickens’ assistance. Tricky because he had to steady himself against the washbasin and balance on one leg. He smiled at his reflection in the mirror over the basin. He felt good. It was good to be alive. “Richard, are you decent? May I speak with you?” His mother’s voice called him from his meandering thoughts. Finished shaving, he toweled his face, slipped into his robe, and joined her in his sitting room. Pickens had laid out a tray with a pot of coffee, and a rack of toast on a side table. Richard poured coffee for himself and his mother. “We’re to catch the eleven o’clock train. Pickens has taken your trunk down to the carriage. Will you be ready to leave within the hour? You don’t want to be jostled so we’ll have Henry drive slowly to Abbeyleigh.” His mother radiated happiness. She looked forward to meeting with her friends and doing some shopping. Richard did not have the heart to disappoint her—and it was time to think of Madeline. He’d neglected her far too long. “I shall be ready in plenty of time. Pickens, come and assist me into my traveling clothes.” His mother kissed his cheek, and swished out of the room. He had one last thing to do before leaving. “Pickens, knock on Miss Thurston’s door. Please ask her to come here.” He heard her crossing the hall. Dressed in blue, Kate stepped into his room. What had she done to her hair? Instead of her usual attractive curls, she’d twisted her hair into a series of tight braids, and looped them into a knot at her nape. “You sent for me, my lord?” Richard shook his head. “Did I not ask you to call me, Richard? You are definitely a Kate. A difficult Kate.” She blushed. “You did, my lord, but how can I call you Richard? I am your companion.” Suppressing a smile, he raised his brows. “What a contrary young lady you are. A perfect companion does what she is told. I asked you to call me Richard. No more “Lord Glenmore” or “my lord”.” She nodded. “Is there anything else?” “Yes. Why have you braided your hair?” He hadn’t asked to see her to discuss her hair but he did not like those damned braids. “Why to keep it neat.”
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“Neat does not suit you. I am not used to this neat Kate. When I’m in London I don’t want to remember a neat Kate, I want to remember an untidy Kate—the way she was when I first saw her.” Her smile dazzled him. “I shall return to my room and comb out my braids. I’d not want you suffering on my account.” “There’s no time, I have to leave in a few minutes. Loosen them. I’ll help you.” “But…” Her fingers flew to her hair, working to free her curls. Richard crossed the room and stood behind her. Crutches propped under his arms he loosened the braid at her nape. A mass of crinkled curls tumbled into his hands and shimmered down over her shoulders. Hints of flowery scent drifted from her hair. Fists clenched, he stopped himself from lifting her hair and kissing her nape. What was he thinking? Making free with her hair? An intimacy reserved for lovers? Kate was not his plaything, someone to toy with. Taking a deep breath, he strove for calm and stepped back from certain disaster. “There. Let me see how you look.” She turned to face him. “Much better.” “But…but…Richard.” Her cheeks pink, eyes wide, she choked on his name. “I cannot go about with my hair flying.” “I prefer the way you have been doing it. Braids make you look severe, like a companion.” Determined to make light of the incident so as not to embarrass her, Richard chuckled. “Kate, your face is a study. I should not tease you but I really do not like your braids. Now, tell me, what can I bring you from London? I’m off in a few minutes.” She slid the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. “Nothing, Richard. I do not require anything.” He rested his hand on her arm. “I did not ask what you required. Is there any one thing you might like? Please me, Kate. Let me do this for you.” “Very well, if it will please you, I would like a book on art. I’ve had little training, and would enjoy studying the works of the great masters, especially those showing how they approach their work. If that is not available, perhaps some oils and a small canvas, I have never painted with oils.” “Then you shall have everything.” He held her hand. “Goodbye, Kate. Will you come down and see me off?” “Of course, my… Will you require my assistance on the stairs?” “Thank you. I shall lean on your arm and if I tumble, we shall tumble together.” Kate favored him with a smile. “I’ll be with you in a minute, I must find a ribbon to tie back my hair, and then your companion will see you safely down the stairs.” As the carriage rolled away from the front of the house, Richard leaned out to wave at his uncle and Kate standing on the front steps.
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His companion had been at the manor for such a short time. Had spent a mere few hours with him. She’d put up with his ill humor and the books he’d thrown at her. He smiled to himself. Her sketch was rolled up in his trunk. Once settled in his London home he’d have it framed. Relaxed on the padded cushions, he half listened to his mother and her plans for their stay in London. He’d decided to make inquiries about Miss Catherine Thurston. Why had she answered the advertisement in the Times? Kate was the most unlikely companion he could imagine. He’d fully expected a wispy spinster, and Kate had arrived instead. His beautiful companion. Why was she not wed? He would make discreet inquiries. He might even go so far as to call on her mother.
***** Still tingling from his touch, and the warmth of his hands loosening her hair, Catherine watched until the carriage reached the gates, turned left on the road to Abbeyleigh and disappeared from view. Anxious to be alone with her thoughts, she smiled at Mr. Edward. “I’ll walk over to the stable and see Misty. I want her to become used to me before I attempt to ride her. Rich…Lord Glenmore tells me she is very willful and can be difficult.” “Indeed, I’ve seen her behaving badly. Very nearly threw one of the grooms when he tried to ride her. You take care. Don’t want you injured. I’d have no one to play dominoes with.” His friendly smile lightened Catherine’s mood. “We shall have a competition after dinner this evening. Best three out of five. I’m sure to win.” She ran down the steps and headed for the stables. Doubts about her behavior with Lord Glenmore troubled her. Why had she permitted him to undo her braids? Truthfully, she knew why. The intimacy of his touch had sent delicious shivery sensations up her back and she hadn’t the strength to stop him. Allowing him to become so familiar might encourage him to take further liberties. Was he just teasing as her brother used to? Perhaps. But Lord Glenmore’s kind of intimate teasing must stop. She did not feel the least bit sisterly toward him. Not sure what she felt, Catherine dragged her thoughts back from Lord Glenmore, ran down the front steps and looked up at the sky. It was clear blue with a few puffy white clouds drifting up from the west. Although the sun warmed her, a lonely chill settled in her heart.
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She’d come to love this place and enjoyed being with the family. Enjoyed being with him, even though, like today, she sensed she had become more his friend than his companion. Catherine dreaded returning to London with its thick fogs and smoky air. Cholera was rife in parts of the city and she worried about her mother. Perhaps she’d agree to sell the town house, it badly needed repairs and was difficult to maintain. Water seeped into the lower kitchen area when it rained heavily. With the proceeds, they could buy a small cottage in the country. Catherine frowned, and slowed her walk to the stables. Her mother had inherited their country house from her father, lived there as a child, and intended giving it to Johnny when he returned from abroad. Her mother seldom raised her voice, but raised it whenever Catherine suggested selling the house. “He must have a home to offer his wife. You will marry, of course, so I need not concern myself with your future.” Since no offers of marriage had come her way and her brother had not returned home, it seemed foolish to keep the house. Catherine sighed. When her three months were up, she would try to find employment in the countryside. Lady Glenmore would give her an excellent recommendation, had said as much when Catherine asked about her duties while Lord Glenmore was away. “Good morning, Miss.” One of the young grooms, mounted on a big gray, doffed his hat. His frankly admiring glance swept Catherine from head to toe. “Will you be riding this morning? I’d be pleased to accompany you.” Catherine wished she had worn her bonnet, the brim would hide her blushes. “Thank you, I’ll not be riding today. I’ve come to visit Misty. Lord Glenmore has given me permission to ride her.” “Be careful with that one, Miss. Don’t go into her stall alone, she might lash out at you. You’ll find Misty out in the meadow behind the stable with the other horses.” He replaced his cap. “Name’s Tom Jepson, I’d be pleased to escort you.” “Thank you, Tom. I am Miss Thurston. Misty and I are well acquainted, and a member of the family has offered to ride with me.” He clattered out of the yard, turned and waved, smiling broadly. Catherine waved back, and returned the smile. She’d enjoy riding out with him if Edward were indisposed. He seemed pleasant and likely knew the country roads very well. It had been months since she’d been in the company of a young man. Her time with Lord Glenmore did not count. That was different. Being his companion established a certain kind of relationship. But when he touched her hair… No, she’d not think of that. It was just a bit of nonsense on his part. Catherine strolled around the stable, and followed the track to the meadow. Six horses grazed on the early spring grass. She spotted Misty and whistled. All the horses
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tossed their heads and trotted toward the fence. Catherine hung over the top, waiting for them. They were so beautiful—she determined to ride every one of them. Necks outstretched, they jostled each other to reach her. “I wish I had some sugar lumps for you.” She spoke softly and stroked each velvety nose. Misty nipped the flank of one of the horses, and pushed it out of the way. Catherine burst out laughing when the mare stuck her head right over the fence and whinnied. “Aren’t you a bossy little boots then? Want some attention, is that it?” As if on cue, Misty nodded. Catherine rubbed her hands under the mare’s neck and, stepping up on a higher rail, stroked the tawny hide. “You are a pretty little lady. I think we shall do very well together.” A pair of dark brown, Belgian draft horses cantered up to the fence. Misty jerked back, giving way to them. Leaning too far over the rail, Catherine lost her balance. In a flurry of skirts, she tumbled awkwardly into the animals. Tangled in her clothing, she struggled to her feet frantically trying to dodge the great feathery ironshod hooves of the Belgians pounding on the turf. Clumps of grass flew up under the snorting, blowing animals milling around her. She clawed at the fence, scrambled up, grabbed the top rail and scrambled to safety. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Her legs quivered, her knees gave way, and she sank to the ground. Unable to stop shaking, she wrapped her arms around her chest to stop the fear chasing up and down her spine. She could have been killed or badly injured. She rubbed her scratched and bleeding hands against her dress stained with grass and dirt. She felt for the blue ribbon she’d fastened around her curls. On the other side of the fence, her precious silk ribbon was in shreds. “Miss, are you hurt?” The male voice pulled Catherine’s shattered wits together. Tom Jepson vaulted from his horse, threw the reins over a fence post and knelt beside her. “What is it, Miss?” Striving for calm, Catherine managed to smile. “Would you assist me to my feet?” She winced when he grasped her hands and helped her up. Her legs trembled. Sunshine warmed her shoulders easing the fears still gripping her. The groom continued to hold her hands. Very gently, she withdrew them. “Did you have a fainting spell, Miss? You looked right strange when I saw you.” “I had a fall, Tom. I was up on the fence talking to Misty, and somehow tipped over, right under the feet of the draft horses.” “You fell under the Belgians? Jesus, Mary and Joseph, how did you not get yourself killed? They’re a new team, not well broke to the plow. Skittish, the plowman tells me.” Catherine stared at her sore hands. “It was my fault, I frightened them.”
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The groom grasped her elbow. “You’ve had a bad scare, Miss. Come, along, I’ll walk you to the stable. You can rest there.” “Thank you, Tom, I am quite fine now. I shall walk back to the house through the rose garden.” He released her arm. “You’ll not be putting yourself in danger again, will you, Miss?” He studied her, his dark blue eyes and slight frown reflected his concern. Catherine dusted off her skirt. With her hair flowing loosely over her shoulders, she was not properly turned out and was embarrassed to be found so disheveled without a bonnet. “I promise to take care. Good morning, Tom. You have been very kind.” “Good morning, Miss. When you are ready to take Misty out, I’ll be pleased to escort you.” Catherine nodded and hurried away. Was it her imagination or was Tom flirting with her? His last remark had a certain tone, not rude or overly familiar, but there was definitely something. Surely he did not consider himself in her class. She sat on a bench in the rose garden ashamed of herself for thinking the handsome young groom was beneath her. She was, after all, employed by Lord Glenmore the same as Tom. Was a paid companion in a different class from a groom? This was a new dilemma to confront in the future. She was the niece of an earl, her mother a titled lady, but that counted for little when it came to earning a living. She was plain Miss Catherine Thurston, twenty years old, soon to be twenty-one, with no fortune, not even a small one, no marriage prospects and she had to earn a living. Her mother had barely enough to dwell in reasonable comfort and pay the wages of her two loyal servants. Catherine strolled back to the house. But there was a difference between her and the groom, a difference bred in the bone. Her uncle was the present Earl of Sandlake, her oldest male cousin, Roger, Lord Easton. When she and Johnny were young, they’d often visited their titled relatives with their mother. Because her father was in business, he did not fit comfortably in their circle and avoided family get-togethers. He couldn’t abide the impecunious earl’s patronizing attitude and him without the means to keep up the repairs on his crumbling manor. Catherine frowned, recalling how the invitations to Sandlake Park ceased upon her father’s death. The earl, hard-pressed for money, was ready enough to make them welcome when her family had wealth and had wanted her as Roger’s bride. At least one good thing had come from being poor, she did not have to think about Roger as a future husband. He was her least favorite cousin. In her room, she examined the damage to her clothing. Nothing torn and that was a blessing. A good brushing would remove most of the dirt. There was a knock at the door. “Miss Thurston?” “Yes, Anna, come in.”
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“I’ve something for you Miss. It just arrived by the morning post from London.” Catherine recognized her mother’s printing on the large, cloth-wrapped package and Bessie’s handiwork in the stitching holding it together. “Please put it on the bed, Anna. My mother has sent my riding costume.” The maid produced a small pair of scissors from her apron pocket. “I’ve just the thing to snip those threads, Miss. My mother gave me these when I first went into service. She always said, you never know when a pair of scissors will come in handy. She even made the leather case to protect them.” In seconds, she removed the covering and smoothed out the cloth. “If you’ve no use for this, Miss, I’ll take it below. It’s sure to come in handy for something.” “Of course you may have it. Now help me look over my costume. It’s been stored in my mother’s home in London and I fear the moths may have fed on it.” Inch by inch, they examined the dark green wool split skirt and black jacket. Catherine had her skirt made so she could ride astride when her family lived in the country. It was much better for racing against Johnny than sitting, like a proper young lady, on a sidesaddle. “Not a thing wrong with them, Miss. I’ll just put them out on the line for a good airing and shake the creases out. You’ll want your boots polished. Pip, our kitchen boy, will give them a shine. They’ll be like a mirror when he’s through.” Anna bundled up the mailing cloth, the costume and boots. “The sun is bright and the air warm. It won’t take long to air your clothing. They likely need a good pressing, though, been folded up a long while by the looks of it. I’ll have it ready for you first thing in the morning.”
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Chapter Seven The following morning, giddy with excitement, Catherine could hardly eat her breakfast. “Where shall we ride to-day, Mr. Edward?” Before he had a chance to reply, a dreadful thought dampened her spirits. “Oh, I quite forgot to ask if you have a lady’s saddle.” She could not ride astride here. It might shock Edward. He twinkled at her across the table. “Of course, we have a saddle for you. Lady Glenmore left word for you to use hers.” “She is wonderfully kind, as you all are, even…” She nibbled at some toast. “Even?” “Even Lord Glenmore. He no longer throws books at me. In fact, he seems quite reconciled for me to continue as his companion until my three months are up.” “Excellent. Excellent. You are like a breath of fresh air in this house.” She finished the toast, drained her teacup and hurried upstairs to change. Her mother had forgotten to put in the hat to match her costume. She tied her hair back with a black ribbon, dragged on her boots, glanced in the wardrobe mirror and decided she looked quite fine. Not fashionable, but decently clad for a companion. Edward met Catherine at the bottom of the staircase. “My goodness, you are very smart. I am delighted to be riding out with you. It’s not often I have an opportunity to escort such a beautiful young lady.” Catherine beamed at him. “Thank you. I am honored to have you as my escort.” He bowed over her hand. “I’ve sent word to the stable to have Misty saddled for you and Barney for me. He’s not one for fast gallops and taking fences—suits me perfectly.” Catherine longed to take to her heels and run to the stable, instead she walked in stately fashion with Edward. He stopped to chat with one of the gardeners about whether or not to take out the old raspberry canes this year and try a new variety. Risking a rebuff, Catherine could no longer contain herself. “May I go ahead to the stable? I’m anxious to see Misty.” “Off you go. I won’t be long.” She flew down the path and arrived at the stable, breathless. Edward’s horse was already outside, saddled and ready. Frowning, she hurried inside and found Tom Jepson in Misty’s stall. The mare fidgeted, tossed her head and backed away when he tried to saddle her.
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“Good morning, Tom.” Catherine joined him in the hay-strewn, sweet-smelling stall. “Good morning, Miss Thurston. Misty’s been playing games with me for the past few minutes. Parsons, the head groom, usually handles her but he sent word he’s feeling poorly and won’t be in. She’s right headstrong, this one. Perhaps you should take out another horse. Boxer will give you a good run.” “Let me try talking to her.” Keenly aware of the mare’s eyes watching her every move, Catherine avoided looking directly at her and spoke in a soft, firm voice. “Hello, Misty, I want to ride you. It’s a lovely day to be out.” She took the saddle from Tom. The mare pricked her ears. Catherine waited another few seconds before forcing the issue then walked briskly across the stall and threw the saddle over Misty’s back. Momentarily startled, the mare swung her head around to look at Catherine, seemed to make up her mind and stood quietly while Catherine tightened the girths. Tom chuckled. “You have a way with you, Miss. I’ve never seen the like. Misty’s a right terror when she puts her mind to it.” Catherine led Misty out to the mounting block. Edward was already in the saddle. Tom assisted her to mount. The minute Catherine mounted her, Misty danced sideways, reared up and charged ahead. “Oh no, little lady, we’ll not have that!” Catherine gripped the reins and pulled back sharply. She’d cut her teeth on half-broken ponies and was not about to let Misty run away with her. The mare skidded to a halt and charged off again. Laughing like a fool, Catherine enjoyed the battle of wills. After the fourth try, Misty stood quietly. “That’s much better. Now we shall wait for Mr. Edward and have a pleasant ride around the park.” “Bless me, Catherine, you’ve had a wild ride, a wonder she didn’t unseat you.” They trotted along, side by side. Misty now and again nipped at Barney but mostly behaved. When they reached a long stretch of road leading toward a dense forest, Catherine turned to Edward. “I’ll run her to the edge of the forest. She’s itching to have her head.” “Go ahead. Don’t venture into the wood, the track is poor and if you take a wrong turn, you’ll end up by the river. There are gypsies camping on the far side. Our gamekeeper has to keep a close watch on them lest they cross over and snare our pheasants.” Catherine snapped the reins and dug her heel into Misty’s flanks. “Come on then, show me how you can run.” Flying down the road, her skirt whipping around her legs, the wind tossing her curls, Catherine whooped out loud. “We’re a fine pair, Misty. We’re a fine pair!”
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Heart pumping with excitement, she slowed the mare when they reached the forest, and swung her around to return. Edward cantered toward them. “You sit a horse well, Catherine. It takes a bit of doing to handle Misty.” “She’s a lovely animal. I shall exercise her every day until Lord Glenmore returns. But for now we shall be very sedate while you show me the park.” Catherine held Misty to a gentle trot while Edward pointed out various features of the land. It stretched for miles. Rolling hillocks sloped to a small lake where four white swans glided past. “Years ago Richard persuaded his father to have an artificial lake put in here. Probably thought to swim in it but it turned out to be too shallow. Proper daredevil he was as a lad. Never knew what he’d do next. When he was sixteen, and the river in full flood, a fool cousin dared him to swim across. He jumped in, fully clothed, and ended up a half mile downstream but he made it to the other side.” “He’s not likely to try a stunt like that again.” Catherine tried to imagine a handsome laughing youth without a care in the world and her heart ached for the warravaged man he’d become. Edward broke into her thoughts. “The lake is fed from a spring and empties into the stream over there to the right and eventually into the river bordering our land. The groundskeeper stocks it with trout but I fear the poachers take most of them. They net them in the middle of the night.” They rested their horses under a stand of trees. “Thank you for this.” Catherine leaned over and touched Edward’s hand. “I shall miss the countryside when I return to London. I shall miss all of you.” “Then you must come and visit. Now that Richard is on the mend, the house will be lively, the way it used to be before that dratted war in Crimea. He was a fine soldier— an officer in the 11th Hussars. He went off to war with them.” Hearing stories about Richard pleased Catherine. They made him easier to understand. In a brisk trot, they returned to the stables. Tom greeted them. “I almost came out to look for you. An urgent message sent from the house. You’re to return immediately.” Fearing it was bad news from home, her mother ill or Johnny had died abroad, Catherine’s stomach knotted. She dismounted quickly, stroked Misty’s nose, and waited impatiently for Edward. “You hurry along, Catherine, your young legs are faster than mine. I can’t imagine what the fuss is about.” Edward eased himself from the saddle. Raising her skirt to her boot tops, Catherine sped along the gravel paths, rounded the corner by the house and dashed up the steps. In the open doorway, she stopped in her tracks. Square in the center of the hall were traveling cases, a steamer trunk and two hatboxes. A man’s laughter echoed from somewhere in the rear of the house.
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“They’re in London? Well, I’m damned. Never mind. It’s good to be home. Give me a hand with my things, Blewett.” A door at the far end of the hall flew open. A man, magnificently turned out in a regimental uniform, cap under his arm, strode toward Catherine, his boots rapping smartly on the marble floor. Seeing her, he halted and bowed. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Captain Randall Delisle, Richard’s little brother. I usually answer to Dolly.” He smiled. “Are you coming or going or do you like standing in doorways?” Catherine’s glance wavered. This was Dolly, come home on leave earlier than expected. A less dolly-like man, she could not imagine. He was tall, well over six feet, broad in the chest and shoulders. Tanned from soldiering in India, he was devastatingly handsome, so like his brother, they could be twins. Same dark hair and eyes but no shadowy pain marked his merry countenance, and Lord Glenmore was not quite so large a person. Taking command of her bemused wits, Catherine crossed the hall and held out her hand. “I’m Catherine Thurston, Lord Glenmore’s companion.” His hand engulfed hers and he raised his brows. “You are my brother’s companion? What a sly fellow he is, never wrote me a word about having a beautiful companion.” Catherine’s cheeks burned. What was he thinking? That she was in a close relationship with Lord Glenmore. She swallowed hard and withdrew her hand. “I am employed to assist…to read…” Words stumbled around her tongue. What was she trying to say? “Your mother, Lady Glenmore, engaged me as your brother’s companion while he recovered from the war. I read to him.” In a flurry of excitement, Edward rushed into the house. “Dolly, what a wonderful surprise. Didn’t expect you for weeks. You’re looking mighty fit. India must agree with you.” Blewett and one of the footmen gathered up luggage. Mrs. Paige, the housekeeper, accompanied by two maids, hurried up the stairs. Edward pumped Dolly’s hand, and in the welcoming turmoil, Catherine slipped outside and sat on the stone bench by the front steps. Not wanting to intrude on Edward’s pleasure at seeing Randall Delisle, she decided to wait until everyone cleared the entrance hall before returning to her room. He was very like his older brother. She’d not paid close attention to size in relation to Lord Glenmore. He tended to stoop over his crutches. Mostly, she liked to study his face, especially when he smiled at her. “Excuse me, Miss.” A young footman stood at the open front door. “Are you coming in? Mrs. Paige can’t abide flies in the house and I’ll close it if you’re staying outside.” Catherine jumped to her feet. “I’m coming.” She hurried across the hall, up the stairs, and paused at the top, listening for Captain Delisle’s voice. A burst of his rollicking laughter spilled down the hallway from straight ahead. Not in the direction she had to go. Meeting Lord Glenmore’s soldier brother had all but 63
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taken her breath away. She really had to become used to meeting young men and being at ease with them. She’d almost forgotten how to make lighthearted conversation. Speaking with Lord Glenmore was different. It was easier to be with him now she was no longer forced to converse or think up interesting topics. She’d read The Taming of The Shrew, and had sent him to sleep! His suffering in the Crimea had aged him, but sleep softened the lines on his face. When he threw books at her or was angry and rude, she knew exactly how to react. But yesterday, when he’d touched her hair…a fire had blazed down her spine, leaving her weak. Would he want her to be different now? Less like a companion, and more like an interesting friend with a store of chitchat? She didn’t want to think about it. She reached her wing of the house and glanced at the closed door opposite hers. He had done everything in his power to send her away. Now he insisted she stay the full three months. Entering her room, she closed the door, and leaned back against it. Perhaps he’d not return from London until close to the time she was to leave Glenmore Manor. Perhaps his marriage to Lady Madeline was already being arranged and he’d want to spend weeks with her, not just a fortnight. Catherine sighed, sat on a chair and pulled off her boots. Living in a kind of limbo, her employer away, she was more like a guest in the house than a paid companion. The sudden appearance of Captain Delisle had thrown her into a different set of circumstances. Unless he decided to go up to London and join his mother and brother, Catherine would likely be spending hours in his company. She hung up her riding costume, bathed and changed into her blue dress. For today, at least, she would stay out of sight as much as possible and give Edward and Randall time together. How easy it was to think of the Mr. Edward as Edward and Randall as Dolly. But she would not be so familiar when they were all together. She had to remember her place in the household. Mr. Randall or better still, Captain Delisle, should not be called Dolly. Catherine brushed and tidied her hair. Glancing at the clock ticking on the mantelpiece, she realized it was close to lunchtime, and tugged on the bell rope. Within minutes Anna knocked on the door and entered. “I’ll take all my meals in my room today. Lord Glenmore’s brother has arrived home unexpectedly and may want to spend time alone with Mr. Edward.” Anna nodded. “As you wish, Miss Thurston.” When Anna left, Catherine wandered out on the small balcony. Plans for the late afternoon took shape in her mind. She’d set up her easel over by the wall where she’d planned to sketch Richard. Why did thinking his name agitate her? She must think of him as Lord Glenmore. Perhaps sketching him with Misty was not a clever idea. “Hallo!”
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Startled from her musings, Catherine looked down. Captain Delisle waved at her. Out of uniform, casually dressed in white shirt, navy jacket and gray trousers, he was handsome as ever. “Come down from your tower, fair lady, and walk with me. I crave your company. Uncle Edward is resting before luncheon.” Unable to think of a ready excuse without sounding like a silly chit who didn’t know her own mind, she could hardly refuse. “I’ll be down directly.” She paused in front of the wardrobe mirror, undecided whether to put on her straw bonnet or her dark blue velvet beret. It had seen better days, and was out of fashion. She decided on her bonnet to be somewhat formal. Usually she went bareheaded on her walks about the grounds. He waited for her on the front steps, and bowed over her hand. “How splendid you look, Miss Thurston, the blue of your dress makes your eyes quite brilliant.” With a supreme effort, Catherine controlled her jumpy nerves. She had lost the art of receiving compliments gracefully, especially from a man seemingly bent on flirting with her. “Thank you, Captain. Now shall we walk?” She hastened down the broad marble steps to the drive. “Miss Thurston, stop a moment, you are like a bird taking flight. I shall not be able to keep up with you if you insist on running instead of walking.” Catherine allowed him to cup his hand around her elbow, and steer her toward the formal gardens. “Are you fond of roses, Captain? They are just beginning to leaf.” Did her voice quiver? “Miss Thurston, do you think you might call me Dolly? I will likely not answer if you refer to me as Captain. Dolly is for family and friends. I count you as a friend.” “I am not sure how to answer, Captain. You see, I am here at Glenmore Manor as paid companion to your brother.” She withdrew her elbow from his warm hand, and moved a few paces away from him. “Although I have been well received by your mother, uncle and brother, I do not consider myself their friend, not in the sense you mean. Do you understand?” “Miss Thurston, you are mistaken. Uncle Edward has done nothing but wax eloquent about you. He thinks you are quite wonderful the way you’ve helped Richard and he told me that Mother is very fond of you. From the twinkle in Uncle’s eye when he spoke about you, he’d be flirting with you if he were thirty years younger.” Blushes rising fast and furiously burned their way up Catherine’s throat and heated her face. She turned away hoping the brim of her bonnet hid her rosy cheeks. Thoughts in a jumble, she struggled to say the right words…but what were the right words? She swallowed her embarrassment. “But don’t you see? They are being kind. I have been able to fulfill my duties very satisfactorily. I shall be gone from your home within
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two months, returning to my mother in London, and then must search for another position. I have to earn my living.” He grasped her hands. “Forgive me, I have distressed you. Richard always said I have the manners of a bull in a china shop. Captain Delisle it shall be, Miss Thurston, until you choose otherwise.” With a smile, he released her. “Delisle?” Catherine asked. Odd, she had never asked Edward about the family background. “Our family name is French from a century or so ago. Mother met Father in France when he was visiting a château that once belonged to our family, the Delisles. Our family came from France about a hundred years ago. He thought to purchase it, but the price asked was too high, and it was in poor condition. However, he returned to England with our beautiful Mama.” Relieved, she liked him even more for his ability to understand her dilemma, Catherine relaxed and smiled up at him. “I think we should return to the house, I thought I heard the bell ring for luncheon.” Dolly walked her back to the house. Miss Thurston’s beauty had knocked him back on his heels. If Richard hadn’t fallen in love with her, he must be quite mad. He’d been in her company mere minutes, and already was bewitched. There was more to the mysterious Miss Thurston than met the eye. In one of his letters, Edward had mentioned Madeline and Richard, and their on-again, off-again betrothal while he recovered from the ghastly war in Crimea. But this companion business was very strange. Richard was too proud to admit needing anyone, especially a female, and certainly not someone as attractive as Miss Thurston. Dolly thought it might be worth the pain to come home a wounded hero, and have someone like her to relieve his suffering. “When did you come here, Miss Thurston?” She raised her eyes to his and Dolly nearly drowned in her lingering glance. She was a perfect English rose. Fair skin. Golden hair. Lips pink and full, hinting of laughter. A pretty nose and a slim, elegant figure. “On March first but I did not begin my duties immediately. I caught a chill and was confined to bed for several days. When I recovered I…” She smiled, showing even white teeth. “Lord Glenmore did not welcome me. It was your mother’s idea to engage a companion.” Dolly hooted. “Mother regaled me in her letters about the two gentlemen companions Richard terrified into leaving. How did you fare with his ill humor?” “I’m not easily frightened, Captain, but there were times when I wondered what I was doing here. Your mother persuaded me to stay on for at least a month. She and your Uncle Edward have been very kind, and they made up for the problems I was having with your brother.”
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“How did you bring him round? He’s been a recluse since coming home.” Dolly wondered if she’d bedded him, then dismissed the thought. Unless he was badly mistaken, Miss Thurston was an innocent. “He finally tired of trying to scare me off, and allowed me to enter his sitting room. Many a time I upset him with injudicious remarks but by and by, he forgave me. He is much improved.” Dolly escorted her into the house. Aye and he’d be much improved too if the glorious Miss Thurston were his companion. With Richard away in London, she’d be free to spend time with him.
***** For a week after Dolly’s arrival Catherine’s days whirled by in a buzz of activity. Finding time to herself was all but impossible. When she set up her easel to sketch, Dolly lounged beside her. They rode daily. Misty had taken Catherine to her heart, and whinnied softly at the sound of her footsteps on the stone floor of the stable. When neighbors heard of Dolly’s arrival home from India, invitations to luncheons, dinners and parties arrived by every post. “Come with me, Catherine, you’ll enjoy yourself. It will be a change from having Edward and me as your only company.” She declined. Explaining her circumstances to strangers was quite beyond her. The Glenmore family had treated her so graciously, she almost forgot her status in the household. As for Dolly…yes, she now called him Dolly. Big and friendly, he put himself out to amuse her. But she would not call upon the neighbors. He went alone, and returned with stories about this one and that, sending her into rib-tickling laughter. A letter came from Lady Glenmore asking Dolly to go up to London. “She’s in a dilemma,” he told Catherine. “It seems that relations are strained between Richard and Madeline. They’ve as good as broken off their engagement. Mother wants to see me, and thinks she should stay with him and not leave him in town on his own. He’s being fitted with some kind of artificial limb and if all goes well, he should be able to ride again.” Catherine knew she should not feel a thing but if Lord Glenmore and Lady Madeline had broken their engagement a little part of her was pleased. She had not liked the tone of Lady Madeline’s voice when she’d scolded him about leaving her without an escort. She’d not offered to stay and read to him. He would have recovered much more quickly if she had. The woman was not worthy to be his wife. Dolly interrupted her musings. “I shall travel up to London tomorrow. If Richard and Madeline have parted company, he may need me to cheer him up, but I would much rather stay here. I shall miss you.”
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She tried to make light of his remark about missing her. “You will find much to amuse you in London. The season is still in full swing.” “Say you will miss me,” he pleaded. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “Very well, I shall miss you. You are a very entertaining companion.” Catherine bit back a smile. Dolly slapped his hand on his forehead. “Is that all?” She burst out laughing. “Stop teasing me. You are as bad as your brother.” “Oh, so Richard teases you, does he? I will speak to him, and tell him to mind his manners.” He bowed over her hand. “I must leave you, fair lady, and see to my packing.” In the morning, Dolly insisted she ride beside the open carriage taking him to the station. At Abbeyleigh, serious for once, he cautioned her. “Have one of the grooms attend you when you ride. I don’t want you taking a fence and falling with no one close by to assist you.” Warmed by his concern, Catherine dismounted and rested a gloved hand on his arm. “I won’t attempt any fences while you’re away. Enjoy your stay in London.” Dolly lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers. “Goodbye, Catherine.” Flustered, her cheeks afire, she led Misty to the station mounting block. Safe in the saddle, Catherine swung Misty around to return to the manor. “Goodbye, Dolly, give my regards to your mother and brother.” Before he could say another word, she waved and left him behind. On the return journey, her disordered thoughts kept her on edge. She wished Dolly had not kissed her. What kind of kiss was it? A friendly kiss? A brotherly kiss? Or something else? She refused to dwell on the ”something else”. Dolly was being Dolly. Exuberant. Outgoing. Charming. He probably kissed every girl who crossed his path.
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Chapter Eight A letter from Lord Glenmore awaited her at the manor. Her fingers trembled slightly as she carefully slit the envelope. She’d never had a letter from a young man. Dear Kate— I hope you are well. We called upon your mother to assure her you were thriving in the country. Lady Jane asked us to stay for tea but we had a previous engagement and had to decline. I have purchased some books for you and will bring them on my return home. I’ve also purchased several canvases, oils, brushes and a palette. You forgot to ask for brushes and a palette and cannot paint without them. We are looking forward to seeing Dolly. He’s a fine fellow, is he not? If you have time, drop me a line and tell me what you’ve been doing in my absence. We expect to be in London another week. Richard Her heartbeat quickening, Catherine read the letter, folded it, unfolded it, spread it out on the escritoire in her room and read every word a second time. Kate. He’d addressed her as Kate. Not Catherine or Miss Thurston but Kate. He had insisted she call him Richard before he departed for London but she simply could not address him as Richard when she answered his letter. Like it or not, Lord Glenmore and his mother employed her. He might choose to be informal but she would not be so bold. What is more, when he returned, she’d reestablish their formal relationship. He might continue calling her Kate, that was his right, but she’d not be coerced into referring to him as Richard. She drew notepaper from her leather case, picked up her pen and dipped it in the ink bottle. Her hand hovered over the page. She’d never written a letter to a man other than her father when he was abroad. Dear Lord Glenmore How kind of you to write to me. Thank you for calling on my mother, she was very uneasy about me taking up the position as your companion. Lady Glenmore would put her mind at rest. I have enjoyed meeting your brother. We have ridden over much of the countryside together. Misty has behaved perfectly. She recognizes my footsteps the minute I enter the stable and neighs softly in a special way. It was very thoughtful of him to purchase books and art supplies. His request that she write to him surprised her. Surprised and pleased her. She missed him. Missed their times together. Even missed those first days when he’d thrown books at her, and made her sit outside his door to read to him.
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Her life with Lord Glenmore had been eventful. His laughter when he insisted on keeping her dreadful sketch, and his insistence on calling her Kate, had shed a new light on their relationship. The amusement in his eyes all but wiped out the dark shadows lurking there. Catherine sighed. When he returned home, it wouldn’t be necessary for her to stay on. He’d no longer require her services. With Dolly to amuse him, and trundle the chair, she’d take her leave and return to London. Dipping her pen in the bottle, she continued. I have watched the wren building her nest in the hedge. She hides now and is very likely sitting on her eggs. The grass in the park is ablaze with daffodils, their golden heads nodding in the sun. The Honorable Edward is determined to get the better of me at dominoes. We keep a running score and are tied as of two nights ago. Thank you for the gift of books and your generous purchase of art supplies. I look forward to receiving them on your return home. Yours sincerely, Catherine Thurston She hoped he would not find her letter too boring. Truth to tell, she didn’t know what to say without sounding too familiar. Be that as it may, the letter was written, and would have to do. Smiling to herself, she decided to fill the space at the bottom of the page with small sketches. Using her India ink and sketching pen, she drew the wren perched on the hedge, Misty with her head poking over the stall door, and a clump of daffodils nodding under a huge beech tree. Satisfied that her drawings would amuse him if her letter did not, she addressed an envelope, folded the page inside and sealed it. Blewett would see to mailing it. With the ever cheerful Dolly gone, and Edward laid up with a touch of gout, Catherine changed into her riding costume and sallied out with Misty. She’d promised Dolly not to take fences, and went on a long meandering exploration of the grounds. Not wanting to return to the house on such a glorious day, she headed down the estate road to the forest bordering the Glenmore land. Edward had cautioned her about venturing into its depths, but curiosity about the gypsies camped by the river tempted her. What harm might she come to? She was still on the estate. Even the most hardened poacher wouldn’t dare accost her. Catherine urged Misty along a track beneath the heavy canopy overhead. Deep in the silent woods, apprehension about this adventure prickled the hair on the back of her neck. Without warning, a boy darted out of the shadows almost under Misty’s hooves. Startled, the mare reared back, and shied sideways nearly throwing Catherine. The lad took to his heels and fled down the path. “Steady, Misty. Steady.” Catherine rubbed her hand along the tawny neck, and spoke softly. The mare’s ears twitched back, listening. “I think we’ll follow that lad. Unless I’m mistaken, he had a pheasant over his shoulder.” 70
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Misty trod warily on the track, quivering nervously at every sound. Catherine coaxed her through the trees. Sure the boy belonged to the gypsies she set out to find him. Rounding a bend, she emerged into bright sunshine by the riverbank. Her quarry glanced over his shoulder and, fleet as a young deer, raced across a narrow footbridge spanning the river, a pheasant bouncing on his back. He scrambled up the bank on the far side, and disappeared into the midst of the caravans. There was no one in sight. The camp seemed deserted. Catherine nudged Misty into the water, and splashed across the river. A large dog, dozing in the sun, rose to its feet, stretched and trotted off. Familiar with gypsy ways from her childhood adventures with Riena, Catherine halted Misty, and waited. The lookout dog would alert one of the men, and a decision would be made as to how to deal with the Gadji, the white person. A tall man, his black hair bound in a red cloth, suddenly appeared on Catherine’s right. “Good day to you, lady. What brings you to our camp? Do you wish your fortune told?” He smiled. His teeth gleamed white in his swarthy face. Catherine smiled back, enjoying the moment. She’d not be harmed here. “Good day to you. One of your lads has taken a pheasant belonging to Lord Glenmore.” “Indeed, lady, I’ll call the boys, and you must tell me which one took the pheasant and he will be punished.” He shouted something in Romany. From behind the caravans, a swarm of boys lined up in front of Catherine. Misty snorted, and stepped back a pace. Not for a minute did Catherine expect to identify the boy. He would be well out of sight. “I did not have a good look at him, only his back when he ran away.” She was being tested and didn’t mind. If she pushed hard enough, the missing pheasant would appear and some payment offered but having her fortune told in return seemed like a better idea. She frowned to give the appearance of coming to a momentous decision. “I regret I cannot identify the boy but the pheasant is here in your camp, that I do know. Warn your people against stealing Lord Glenmore’s pheasants lest he send the constables, and drive you away.” She tapped her fingers on her knee. “I will have my fortune told, and not mention the pheasant to Lord Glenmore.” “Good lady, let me help you down.” Like a knight of old, he assisted Catherine to dismount. As if by magic, women, girls and young children emerged from in and around the brightly painted caravans. Catherine loved their colorful clothes. She grasped Misty’s bridle to steady her, and gazed at the little crowd. One of the young women stepped forward. “Catherine?” “Riena, do you know this lady?” The man asked. Riena smiled at Catherine. “Aye, Gaudio, I knew her well when we were children. Do you still have the amulet my father gave you, Catherine? It’s the same as mine, show it to him.”
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Winding her fingers around the leather thong, Catherine drew the amulet from under her bodice. “I always have it with me. Your father warned me not to lose it.” The man beamed at Catherine. “Then you will stay and share a meal with us.” Delighted at the welcome, Catherine nodded. “Thank you. That will please me.” He turned to the women, snapped an order in Romany, and the camp erupted into activity. Riena tugged at Catherine’s arm. “Come, let me tell your fortune. I have my grandmother’s crystal. She willed it to me on her deathbed.” Holding fast to Misty’s bridle, Catherine followed her friend to a nearby caravan. “Hitch your horse to this ring. She’ll come to no harm here.” Riena shooed away some curious children. Catherine climbed the wooden steps into the caravan. At the rear was a bed covered with a blanket woven in red, gold and purple patterns. Draping the windows were snowy white gauzy curtains with red and gold tassels dangling along the edges. In the center of the caravan were a small table and two wooden chairs. The chair backs were etched in red, gold and purple patterns similar to the bed cover. “How pretty this is, Riena, I would like to paint it.” “Aye, you always wanted to paint. Do you mind the picture you drew of me? I still have it.” She signaled Catherine over to a chair. “Please sit you down.” Riena covered the table with a black velvet cloth, and placed a polished wood stand on it. Reaching under the bed, she pulled out an elaborately carved box, unlocked it and lifted out a crystal globe. She placed it on the stand, and sat down opposite Catherine. Hands spread over the crystal, Riena closed her eyes. Stillness stole into the caravan. Catherine waited. Riena opened her eyes, and smoothed her fingertips over the crystal. Head bent, she gazed into the globe and uttered a few words in Romany. Catherine lost track of time. As if returning from some faraway place, Riena spoke, her voice strangely altered. “You have been sorely troubled in the past. A death in the family darkened your life. I see the way ahead, and your future is bright. Happiness is coming to you if you choose wisely. A man loves you. He is proud, and will not seek you out if you turn your back on him. Take care, Catherine. Do not let others make decisions for you. Follow your heart. That is where your happiness lies.” Riena bent her head, and remained silent. Catherine peered into the globe, but could see nothing in its crystal depths. Dust motes drifted in a shaft of sunlight. Sounds filtered in from outside the caravan. Riena reached across the table, and clasped Catherine’s hands. “Tell me about your family. It was your father who died, was it not? Although I never saw him in life, an older man, his face edged in black, appeared in the crystal. And what of Johnny and your mother?”
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Her friend’s concern warmed Catherine’s heart, and she recounted recent Thurston history and her employment as a companion to Lord Glenmore. “And how have you fared, Riena?” she asked. “Do not speak of what I tell you,” she whispered. “Within weeks I am leaving the tribe. My husband is too old for me. My parents arranged our marriage and I do not love him. He blames me for not giving him children. Too lazy to work, he sends me out, and beats me when I do not bring home enough money.” “But where will you go?” Catherine kept her voice low. It was against Romany custom to leave the tribe. “Away to the colonies. At the last hop picking, I heard about the bride ships going to a town called Victoria in Canada. I’ve saved enough money for my passage.” “You’ll not marry while your husband lives.” Riena shook her head. “Nay, I go to seek my fortune.” Suddenly a smile danced across her lips. “I shall set up a shop in Victoria, selling trinkets and ribbons, and use my crystal to cast the future for all who are willing to pay.” “I wish I could go with you, it sounds like a grand adventure.” Catherine gazed at her friend’s beautiful face. “You are very brave.” “Brave and foolish, perhaps, but I cannot waste my youth with a cruel old man. Your future lies here in England, Catherine. That is clear.” “Where is your husband?” Catherine asked. “Away with most of the men to claim some common ground for us near the hop fields. We go from here tomorrow.” A burst of fiddle music and the jingle of tambourines sounded outside. Riena packed away her crystal. “The people want to celebrate so you must be properly dressed.” Smiling, she pushed aside a red velvet drape covering part of the caravan wall, revealing a series of shelves stacked with clothing. “Here, I want you to have this.” She handed Catherine a fringed silk shawl patterned in purple, gold and red. “I cannot accept it, Riena. This shawl must have cost several pounds.” “Please, Catherine, I want you to have it. Now let me show you how to tie it loosely around your waist and swing it around your hips then you’ll look like a proper gypsy girl!” Unable to resist, feeling deliciously wicked, Catherine swished back and forth in the caravan. One hand on her silk-covered hip, she snapped her fingers, and tapped her toes to the music. The dancing, and the meal that followed, lasted well into the afternoon. The bird roasted on a spit looked suspiciously like a pheasant, but Catherine held her tongue. Without following the boy with the pheasant, she wouldn’t have found Riena. Finally Catherine hugged her friend. “I must return to the manor or they will think I have come to harm.” 73
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The tall man assisted her into the saddle, a mischievous smile on his lips. “There’ll be no more pheasants taken from your land and the boy will be punished.” “Please, let him be. I have enjoyed my time with you, that is payment enough for one pheasant.” Sad at leaving Riena, never likely to see her again, Catherine wrapped the shawl over her shoulders, waved goodbye, splashed across the river, and disappeared into the trees. Tracking back, she mulled over the future Riena had predicted. Her common sense denied the possibility of a man loving her. Out of society, away from parties and balls, she had no opportunity to meet such a person. As she emerged from the forest, she was surprised to see Tom Jepson riding toward her at full tilt. Reining in the horse, he touched his cap. “Where have you been, Miss Thurston? The house is in an uproar. Mr. Edward ordered the horses saddled and sent the grooms out looking for you.” “I am dreadfully sorry, Tom. I’ve been visiting the gypsy camp and forgot the time.” “The gypsy camp, Miss? Whatever were you doing there? Did no one tell you not to venture into the forest? It’s no place for a young lady. I’ve been worried, fearing something had happened to you.” Catherine bit her tongue. The groom had no right to speak to her like that. He was being overly familiar. She did not have to explain herself to him. Tom had been around the stables whenever she rode out. Even when Dolly escorted her, Tom made her aware of his presence. He swung his horse around to squire Catherine back to the house. “It was thoughtless of me to cause you all so much worry. I followed a young lad who had poached a pheasant. He led me to the gypsy camp and I had my fortune told and purchased a shawl.” She’d not speak of Riena. Tom turned to her, smiling into her eyes. “And what was your fortune, Miss?” Catherine gripped her hands tight on the reins. No, it couldn’t be! Was Tom the man Riena said loved her? Impossible. She said to follow her heart and her heart didn’t favor the groom. Why had Riena not been more specific? Was she to go around testing her heart against every man she encountered? She opted to treat the fortune telling as a joke. “It was a lot of nonsense. I’ve forgotten it already.” When Tom assisted her to dismount, he clasped her around the waist, and held her a trifle longer than Catherine thought necessary. She moved aside to let him take Misty. “Thank you for coming to search for me. I’ll not be visiting the gypsies again. They are clearing off tomorrow.” “Then I insist you not go riding off without telling me.”
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Catherine did not like being told off by the groom. He’d really gone too far. “I shall inform Mr. Edward or another member of the household when I ride. Please do not concern yourself with me.” Stiffly proud, she straightened her back, said goodbye to Misty, and marched away from the stable. Immediately, she regretted her hasty words. Poor Tom, he was being so kind, and she was behaving like an insufferable grand lady. Catherine turned back. “I’m sorry, Tom, I did not mean to be rude. I’ve upset everyone today. Thank you for looking out for me.” “I’m pleased you are unharmed. That is all that matters.” Catherine shook his hand. “I will be more careful from now on.” On her return to the house, she asked Blewett to inform the staff she was safe. “Mr. Edward is in the study, Miss. He would have been off looking for you but for the gout.” Edward glowered at her. “Where have you been? I’ve been at my wit’s end worrying about you. Why if anything happened to you, Richard would very likely shut himself up again. You are not to frighten me like this. My old heart has been ticking at half speed since you did not return for luncheon.” She drew up a chair close to his. “I am very, very sorry. Let me tell you what happened.” By the end of her tale, Edward had cheered up. “So you had your fortune told. What did your friend see in her crystal ball?” Catherine smiled. “I’m not going to tell you. It’s a lot of nonsense.” She did not want Edward teasing her about a lover. “Ha! You are blushing. Did she warn you against an old gentleman with white hair who thinks you are a dear girl, and who wishes he were thirty years younger?” Feeling silly and giggly, Catherine stood. “What a rogue, you are. Flattery will not make me lower my guard this evening when we play dominoes.” She dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I must change before tea, and you must rest. I want your heart ticking in fine fettle when we set up our dominoes.” “A moment, Catherine. I received a letter from Marie Claire by the late post. She is returning home tomorrow to arrange a big party to welcome Dolly back from India.” Edward groaned. “The house will be in a turmoil with guests in residence, meals in the large dining room and not a moment’s peace with everyone talking at once.” Catherine paused at the door. “You and I will hide out somewhere.” “Oh, very good, Catherine, very good. Now I shall have a nap.” She made her way slowly to her room. The news about the party darkened the day. A party for family and friends would not include Richard’s companion unless she was expected to stay close to Lord Glenmore, and fetch and carry for him.
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Spreading the colorful shawl on the bed, Catherine slithered her hands over the silk. It was so beautiful. She half wished she was a gypsy girl, and could wear it with a red skirt, a white blouse with red and purple zigzag designs at the neck and down the sleeves. She’d add big gold hoop earrings. She folded up the shawl, and put it away in one of the wardrobe drawers. On dull, rainy days or when she was out of sorts, she’d take out the shawl and remember. Remember dancing to the gypsy fiddles. Remember Riena. Remember her fortune.
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Chapter Nine Catherine danced alone in the midst of a swirling crowd of elegantly clothed men and women. Barefoot, naked to the waist, amulet nestling between her breasts, her gypsy shawl slung seductively over her hips, she raised her arms over her head and whirled around the floor. Lord Glenmore pushed through the crowd toward her, cupped her breasts in his hands and kissed her nipples. “My dear Kate. Come and read to me.” Jerking awake, Catherine sat up in bed. She was very warm. More than warm. She was hot all over. Nipples taut, her breasts strained against the fine cotton fabric of her nightgown. She threw back the covers, jumped out of bed, and rushed out on the balcony to breathe the fresh, early morning air. She hardly ever dreamed. Whatever made her dream about him? About being naked? It was too awful. Mortified just thinking about it, a guilty flush burning her cheeks, Catherine undid the buttons at the neck of her nightgown, and flapped the material back and forth to cool her flesh. She’d never be able to look Lord Glenmore in the face without thinking of him…of him kissing… Oh dear, just when her breasts felt more normal, they plumped up again as though they had a mind of their own. Catherine paced back and forth in her room. She had to wipe every last dreadful vestige of that dream from her mind. No, it was not a dream. It was a nightmare. A wonder she didn’t awake shrieking from fear. But she was not afraid. Not while she danced. Not even when he kissed her, and asked her to read to him. Yesterday was all mixed up inside Catherine’s head. Riena, telling her fortune. The beautiful shawl. Dancing with the gypsies to the joyful music of the fiddles and tambourines stirred something deep within her. Surely she did not want Lord Glenmore to take liberties! That was too awful to think about. Dreams. Nightmares. All caused by too much excitement or a touch of indigestion—that and the dazzling shawl. Catherine drew the shawl from the wardrobe drawer. She had never owned anything so exotically beautiful. Her mother had always chosen Catherine’s dresses and gowns in the firm belief her daughter had no sense when it came to what was appropriate and inappropriate. Light colors. Nothing bright to call attention to herself. Catherine grinned into the wardrobe mirror. She’d always loved colorful ribbons, reds, purples, blues and yellows and liked braiding them in her hair. But her mother
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had put a stop to that when she was sixteen. Not suitable, she’d said, for a young lady approaching womanhood. Her dear mother had refused point-blank to come with her to choose the companion dresses. In her mother’s eyes, Catherine had crossed the line into something akin to selling her birthright, but Lady Jane was not averse to spending some of Catherine’s wages. Holding the shawl against her face, Catherine breathed in a faint, flowery scent as though roses had been woven into the silk. She had no use for the shawl here. Perhaps she’d never use it but she’d keep it for the rest of her life to remind her of Riena. Hidden away in the wardrobe drawer, she’d take it out when she felt blue and remember yesterday. But, she reminded herself sternly she’d not be so foolish as to swirl it around her hips, and dance to the gypsy music playing inside her head, and she would most certainly not ever dance naked and barefoot! Anna tapped on the door and entered. “I’ve a message from Mr. Edward. He’s resting this morning, and is taking breakfast in his room. He asked you to excuse him.” “Thank you. Please convey my regards to Mr. Edward. I will have my breakfast out on the balcony. It is a beautiful day.” Bathed, dressed, and her stomach comfortably full, Catherine decided not to ride. Until Edward could accompany her, she would not saddle Misty. Tom Jepson was determined to ride out with her rather than allow her to ride alone.
***** She had ridden alone around the countryside near her old home from the time she could sit a horse. Why did men think women were helpless creatures unable to look after themselves? Dolly had cautioned her about taking fences without someone riding with her. Even he must think she did not have the good sense she was born with, and she certainly did not want a groom watching over her like a nursemaid. She sent word to Edward that she was going for a walk, and he was not to fret about her. With her folding stool, sketching pad, pencils and pastel chalks in their box, she strolled down the drive to the gatehouse. Mr. Wilson, the gatekeeper, was up a ladder polishing the Glenmore coat of arms, and stopped what he was doing to touch his cap. He and his wife had been away visiting on the day Catherine arrived, and had locked the gates. Whenever she saw him, he always apologized for not being there. “Mr. Wilson, when you finish polishing, would you mind closing the gates for me? I want to sketch them.” Catherine smiled up at him. “Won’t be a minute, Miss. One last rubbing is all they need.” Catherine crossed to the far side of the road, fixed her stool and sat down. Down from the ladder, Mr. Wilson closed the gates. “Give me a shout when you want them open. I’ll be in the house. Don’t want you locked out again.”
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Sketchbook on her lap, Catherine chose a pencil and straightedge ruler, and set the box aside on the grass verge. The formidable Glenmore gate faced her. How cold and frightened she had been the evening she arrived. That was the picture she had in mind to draw. The gate, the lowering clouds, the awful feeling of being alone and friendless. Even now in the warmth of the morning sun, Catherine shivered. With a practiced hand, she set to work. As the gate appeared on the paper, she found her mind wandering. Lady Glenmore returned home today. Time to sit down, and discuss her duties, whatever they may be now that Rich—Lord Glenmore had recovered and no longer required her services. What was her status in the household? Without a clearly defined role, Catherine was at a loss to know what to do. How to handle the situation? Was she expected to stay the full three months? If she asked to leave, would she have to return some of her wages? “Oh, bother,” she exclaimed. “That’s what comes from not paying attention.” The ruler had slipped, and one lovely straight line was anything but. Delving into the pencil and chalk box, she found a smidgen of soft eraser, and carefully rubbed out the crooked line. Catherine raised her head at the sound of approaching carriage wheels. She jumped to her feet and dashed across the road. “Mr. Wilson, come quick and open the gates, the Glenmore carriage is here.” Like a shot from a cannon, he hurtled from the house. “Oh my goodness, I knew Lady Glenmore was returning today but did not expect her until the afternoon.” The liveried coachman pulled up the matched pair of grays. “Come along, man. Come along. See to the gates. We haven’t all day.” Suddenly the carriage door flew open. “Catherine! Have you come to welcome us home?” Dolly vaulted into the roadway, and before she could protest, he clasped her around the waist and swung her off her feet. “You are a sight for these tired eyes.” “Dolly, put me down at once, whatever will your mother think?” Half-laughing, half-embarrassed, Catherine tried to free herself. His mother would not be pleased at Catherine for allowing such liberties. “Good morning, Miss Thurston.” Lord Glenmore observed her from the open carriage door. Booted feet propped on the seat opposite he frowned slightly and raised his brows. His mother leaned across him, and smiled at Catherine. “Good morning, my dear. You are looking very well.” Wriggling away from Dolly, her heart thumping against her ribs, Catherine did the only thing she could think of, she curtsied. “Good morning, Lady Glenmore and Lord Glenmore.” He nodded. The briefest of nods. A cool dismissive kind of nod, and looked past her as though she had ceased to exist.
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“Are you coming, Dolly, or do you intend escorting Miss Thurston up to the house?” Lord Glenmore asked. Cut to the quick, angry at his slight, Catherine glared at him. He had not said a kind word to her. Not a single kind word. Nor was there the glimmer of a smile. Had London changed him? Had he reverted back to his old behavior? Lifting her chin, she raised her voice. “I do not require an escort, Lord Glenmore. I have not finished sketching, and I am not a helpless fool who cannot find her own way to the house!” Turning on her heel, she stalked across the road, sat on the stool, and picked up her sketching pad. To her dismay, Dolly followed her. “Let me see what you are sketching.” Fond as she was of Dolly, she did not feel up to coping with his cheerful talk while she seethed with anger at his churlish brother. “Do please go along with the others, it will take me a while to complete my drawing. It is but half finished.” Blithely ignoring her, Dolly studied the sketch. “Very nicely done, but why have you drawn storm clouds in the sky? The sun is bright today.” Catherine winced. She’d been rude to Dolly, and he had done nothing to deserve it. “This is how it looked when I arrived. Dark, gloomy, rain pouring down and the gates were locked.” “Poor Catherine, what a dreadful beginning. A wonder you did not turn tail and run.” Catherine stared at the carriage bowling up the drive. Often times, she wished she had run away, like now. Lord Glenmore seemed bent on hurting her. Why? She had done nothing to deserve his slight, and she had looked forward to seeing him again. “I do not give up easily, Dolly. Now, if you must stay, then sit on the grass, and stay silent. I have to concentrate or my sketch will never be finished.” He threw himself down on the grass beside her. “Very well. Not a word. I shall enjoy watching you.” Having Dolly lounging beside her disturbed Catherine. Being alone with him, when his mother and brother were in London, had been enjoyable. He teased her, and made her laugh. But with everyone home, it was different. Different. Not the same at all. She’d have to avoid spending time alone with him. He seemed very fond of her, and his mother might think she was setting her cap for her second son. Her role in the Glenmore family was as paid companion to Lord Glenmore and that had to be clarified. If his rude behavior was any indication, she’d not be around much longer. Catherine suddenly recalled how he’d looked in the carriage. His two feet were booted. If that meant he had an artificial limb, she would certainly not be required.
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What is more, there was no call for her to read to him. His sight had improved before he’d gone to London.
***** “Drive on.” Richard ordered the coachmen and slammed the carriage door shut. “Really, what is the matter with you? Your face is like a thundercloud. Not feeling stressed from traveling, are you? You’ll soon be able to rest.” His mother patted his gloved hand. “I certainly am glad to be home.” He shook his head. “I am quite well, but Dolly concerns me. He should not be so free with Miss Thurston.” “What nonsense, Dolly means no harm. It’s just his way. He thinks the world of Miss Thurston, and would do nothing to upset her.” He cursed himself for a jealous fool. If Dolly wanted to enjoy her company, it was no concern of his, and why in God’s name had he addressed her as Miss Thurston? It had stung her. He’d come to know her so well. She could not hide her feelings. For seconds, her lip had quivered, but not for long, Kate had kept her sharp wit while he’d been away. At the sight of her, golden hair glowing in the sun, a wonderful smile on her lips, he thought that given two good legs he would have jumped from the carriage to embrace her. Embrace Kate? Richard stepped down at the front of the manor, and assisted his mother. Blewett hurried to escort her into the house. Still not quite secure on his feet, he leaned heavily on two canes, and walked steadily up the steps. At the top, he turned, and gazed down the drive. Some of the shrubs had leafed during his absence and the trees were budding. It was good to be home. Embrace Kate? He made his way through the house to his suite. The stump pained him where it fitted into the artificial limb. Pain he could cope with. Soon the stump would toughen up. He intended to take part in the festivities his mother planned to celebrate Dolly’s return home. Planned to dance. Embrace Kate? He shed his traveling cloak and hat. What the devil was the matter with him? Kate was his companion, nothing more. Employed to read to him. He owed her a vote of thanks for making him want to live again. Instead, he’d seen Dolly’s arms around her and… And he did not want Dolly embracing her.
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He sat on the window seat while his valet saw to unpacking his trunk. “What shall I do with this, milord?” Pickens carried a large package from the bedchamber. “Leave it by my desk. Those are painting supplies for Miss Thurston. I’ll write a note, and you can deliver them to her room.” He gazed down the drive hoping to see Kate and Dolly walking back to the manor. He wanted her with him. Wanted her to read to him. Wanted to hear what she’d been doing during his absence. London had been dreary. He could not believe how much he had missed Kate. Had found it hard to be cheerful even on the nights he and Madeline attended evening parties in the company of old friends. He tried to dismiss the thought pushing its way into dangerous territory. His relationship with Kate, his beautiful companion, had to be reassessed. He’d become too fond of her. Fond? A damned stupid word. It did not begin to describe his feelings for her. He cherished her. Wanted the best for her. If she and Dolly… He slapped his hand on his thigh to emphasize the point! If Kate and Dolly cared for each other, and wished to marry, he would give them his blessing. A finer match he could not imagine. During his stay in London, Dolly had praised Kate to the skies. He’d never been so intrigued by a girl before. Little wonder, he thought. Kate had a special charm that drew people to her. Uncle Edward was besotted with her, and his mother thought Kate an absolute gem for what she had done for him. Done for him? Richard gave up looking down the empty drive, and walked over to his desk. She had given him back his life and now he had to let her go. Let her return to London when her time was up. How much longer did she have with him? A month? Five weeks. Not long. A rueful smile touched his lips. He could send her away immediately but that wouldn’t be fair to Dolly. If Dolly wanted to come to an understanding with Kate about a future together, he would not stand in their way. He drew notepaper from the drawer, dipped his pen in the ink. What should he say? How to word it? Return to a more formal tone? Dear Miss Thurston. A sharp pain stabbed across his chest. Kate was not Miss Thurston. She was Kate! His Kate. Head buried in his hands he faced the truth he’d been denying for days and sleepless nights. He loved her! Before he’d left for London, he’d known it. Had known it every minute of every day spent away from her. Madeline had sensed something wrong. Dear Madeline. She’d made a poor choice when she promised to marry him. “You are not yourself,” she’d said. “I feel as if your thoughts are elsewhere. There are times you seem unaware of anything around you. Why, last night at the Gordon’s party, you
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hardly spoke a word. Are you not well? It is not like you to be silent. Others have remarked on it, especially Lord Minton.” But the implied criticism rankled and her slightly hectoring tone belied her concern about his health. The old man had prodded Richard to give his account of what happened when the Light Brigade was sent to certain death against the Russian guns. “Cardigan is the hero of the hour. Fine fella. Brave as they come.” Biting his tongue, Richard had excused himself and made his way outside to the terrace. If he began to describe his feelings for Cardigan and gave a true account of the man, he’d shock Lord Minton. Let him think what he wanted about Cardigan. Away from the chattering crowd, Richard had stared up at the night sky, wondering what Kate was doing. Madeline had been right. His thoughts had been somewhere else. They’d been here. At home with Kate. But was it love he felt for her? Or something else. Gratitude? She’d put up with books thrown at her, his ill humor, discourtesy, and he’d entered her room, and stolen her sketch. He’d never been deeply in love, not even with Madeline now he thought about it. Before leaving for the Crimea, not sure if he’d even return, he and Madeline had danced the night away at countless balls, kissed passionately away from the eagle eye of her chaperone and finally, on the day he departed, declared their love to both families. War had aged him. Home in England, he was not the same man who had left. Madeline meant almost nothing to him now. Their vow to marry mocked him. He scarcely recognized her as the girl he’d promised to wed. Holed up in his room, he’d only wanted to be left alone. Until Kate walked into his life and threw a book at him. He ripped up the paper and drew out another sheet. Dear Catherine. Here are the art supplies I promised you. Catherine. That is what he would call her now. Kate? Never. Only in his private thoughts. Kate suggested intimacy, a familiarity that might not sit well with Dolly. But how did she fit into the family now? If Dolly intended to court her it might be better for Kate to return to London. Dolly would be free to call on Lady Thurston, and ask for her daughter’s hand. The ache in his heart persisted. Why was he casting his thoughts into the future? Dolly had not said a word about marrying Kate. Then what he had to do was establish a formal relationship with Kate, as it was in the beginning…except for throwing books. Catherine it would be. Let her stay on until after the welcome-home party for Dolly. According to his brother, she enjoyed riding. There was still a role for his companion. She could accompany him, once he had mastered mounting his horse using his right leg instead of his left. He didn’t trust his fake foot in the stirrup until he was up and in the saddle.
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Cheered at the thought of spending hours with Kate at his side, he sealed the note, called Pickens and handed it to him. “Leave the package in Miss Thurston’s room. I believe she is still away sketching.” “Perhaps I should wait until she returns, milord. She may not approve of me entering her room.” Richard grinned. “Very well, leave it outside her door. And, Pickens, send word to my mother, I will have luncheon with the family.”
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Chapter Ten Catherine eyed the sun, and packed away her sketching materials. “We’d best return to the manor, Dolly, it is nearly time for lunch.” “Watching you, I’ve lost track of time.” Catherine laughed. “You’ve been fast asleep dozing in the sun.” “Not at all, I have practiced the fine art of pretending to sleep. In fact, I observed your every move. You have an elegant way of holding your arm when you sketch. Very charming.” He stood. “Let me carry your things.” Catherine folded the stool and handed it to him. “I’ll manage the rest.” Smiling, Dolly bowed over her hand. “May I escort you to the house, Miss Thurston? My brother seems to think you might lose your way.” Mention of Lord Glenmore set her teeth on edge. She’d not let him spoil the day. She nodded at Dolly, teasing him right back. “Thank you, Captain Delisle. I believe Lord Glenmore has a low estimation of my intelligence. I can find my way alone, but your company will be most enjoyable.” Dolly clasped her arm, and shortened his stride to match hers. “Richard has nothing but praise for your intelligence, Catherine. I’ve never seen him so eager to return home. We were to catch the afternoon train, but he insisted we leave first thing this morning. After searching London for your art supplies, he was eager to give them to you.” Catherine stopped in her tracks. “He did not seem pleased to see me. Perhaps he regrets purchasing them.” Dolly shook his head. “He has a lot on his mind. He and Madeline are on tricky ground right now. They are not quite sure whether to wed or not. She’s attending our party with her parents, that will give them time to sort things out their relationship.”
***** Catherine swallowed all this information, and forgave him for ignoring her. His lack of courtesy probably resulted from stress. Marriage was not to be embarked on lightly. Like as not, he and Lady Madeline would clear away any problems while she visited Glenmore Manor. Sighing, Catherine walked on with Dolly. This was such a heavenly place. Being here was like living in an earthly paradise. How could any young lady resist it? Or him? Edward had sung Lord Glenmore’s praises. Educated at Oxford, he had excelled at everything. His studies. Sports.
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“He was willful, though. No holding him back once he made his mind up to go after something he wanted. A bit of a hell-raiser. Between him and Dolly, they led their parents a merry dance.” Edward never tired of talking about “the boys”. But soon she’d have to leave them and Glenmore Manor behind. Very soon. Before Dolly’s party. Catherine thanked him for escorting her to the house and hurried upstairs. A package lay by her door and on the top, an envelope addressed to her. In his handwriting. Bundled down with sketching materials, the stool hooked over one arm, she pushed into her room, set everything aside, and picked up the package and envelope. Nudging the door shut with her elbow, she sat on the bed and fingered the envelope before opening it. He’d apologize for being rude. He usually did. That was a part of his character she had come to…to love. No, not love. To appreciate. He always knew when he was in the wrong, and had said or done something hurtful. She slit the envelope. Dear Catherine. Here are the art supplies I promised you. Taking a deep breath to ease the tightness in her chest, she read the note again. Lips pressed together, she swallowed her disappointment. What had she expected? A friendly greeting? She obviously meant nothing to him. His attitude when he saw her at the gate, so remote, so chillingly formal, made that quite clear. Why then did her heart ache? She had looked forward to seeing him again. To hear him call her Kate. To spend time with him. Before he set off for London, they’d become friends, so she believed. Even his letter had led her to believe he thought well of her. But something had changed between them, something she did not understand, and she didn’t know what to do. How to be with him? After luncheon, she’d speak to Lady Glenmore, and ask to be relieved of her duties. Catherine ripped the note into tiny pieces. She had no desire to stay, and he seemed to have no interest in having her around. She bathed her face and hands, changed into the azure blue dress, caught her hair back with a matching ribbon, and set off downstairs. His door was closed. Very likely, he would be having luncheon served in his room. The butler met her in the entrance hall. “Miss Thurston, the family is on the terrace having an apéritif. Please come this way.” Dolly jumped to his feet when he saw her, and Lord Glenmore rose from his chair. Using two canes, he stood and nodded at her, an enigmatic smile on his lips. For endless seconds his dark eyes held hers. Unable to tear her gaze away, Catherine’s heartbeat quickened, and the Earth shifted under her feet.
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Momentarily lost, she finally gathered her wits, and returned his smile. “Thank you for the art supplies, my lord.” Her breathless words broke the spell. “I hope I made the right choices.” “Oh yes, everything is perfect.” She hadn’t opened the package, and prayed he would not ask about the contents. “Come along, my dear, and sit by me.” Suddenly aware of his mother, Catherine joined her on a white wicker love seat, its cushions patterned in swirls of brilliant green, dark blue and yellow. “Dolly, offer Catherine a sherry.” His mother beamed at him. “Sweet, dry or in between?” he asked, smiling at her over the drinks table. “Dry, please.” She looked around. “Where is Mr. Edward?” Dolly handed her the sherry. “The gout is plaguing him. He thought it best to stay in his room.” “I am sorry. Your uncle has been very kind to me while you’ve all been away. He is the dearest man.” Glad to have something to do with her hands, Catherine gripped the stem of the glass, and swirled the amber liquid before sipping it. Only now when the brothers stood side by side did she realize Lord Glenmore was close to the same height as Dolly. She’d not seen them together before. Big, handsome men, both of them. Alike and unalike in many ways. Same black hair and dark eyes but Lord Glenmore’s face reflected the trauma he’d suffered. There was something else about him. A warning not to push too hard into his private space. Why did she expect him to be different? Good-natured like Dolly, for instance. Instead, she walked on eggshells around Lord Glenmore. Why? Because…because she did not know from one minute to the next what his mood might be. Catherine glanced up to find him gazing at her. Flustered, warm from the sherry, she turned toward his mother. “May I speak with you after luncheon, my lady, on a private matter?” “Of course. But tell me, have you been riding since we’ve been in London? I must say, Richard surprised me when he said you were going to ride Misty. She’s his special pet. Did she behave?” “Absolutely, after a few attempts to shake me off she and I reached an agreement about who was in charge.” Only too happy to speak about Misty instead of thinking about her owner, Catherine’s enthusiasm for the mare was contagious. “I’m afraid I disobeyed Mr. Edward and rode Misty through the forest and across the river to the gypsy camp. I was chasing after a young lad who’d poached one of your pheasants.” “You visited the gypsies? Were you not afraid?” Lady Glenmore asked.
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“Not at all, most of those stories about gypsies are untrue. They were most welcoming, but what was especially wonderful, I met up with Riena Stanley, a friend from my childhood.” “A gypsy friend?” Dolly drew his chair closer. Shading his eyes from the midday sun, Richard stopped listening to the conversation, and gave himself over to observing Kate. If he were an artist, he’d paint her sitting on the love seat, in her blue dress, her glorious hair, free of ribbons and pins, falling over her shoulders. She’d slant her eyes at him, a teasing smile on her lips. And then? And then he’d take her in his arms, and kiss her. With an effort, he reined in his reckless thoughts. Danger signals flashed red inside his head. Kate… No. That would not do. He had teased her into being Kate. His shrewish Kate. He wished she had signed her sketch as Kate. It now hung in his bedchamber, a reminder of how he had scowled when they first met. Kate had to be Catherine or Miss Thurston. They’d revert back to the way it was at the beginning. Not quite. A rather formal friendliness is what he had in mind. He might ask her to read to him of an evening. He sipped his sherry. He relished the idea of lounging in his chair, watching her head bent over a book, her lovely voice weaving a spell around him. Kate. Blewett stepped out on the terrace. “Luncheon is served.” Lady Glenmore rose to her feet. “Dolly, will you escort Catherine into the dining room?” “My pleasure, Mother.” He tucked her arm in his and walked on ahead. Richard frowned. He had to stop thinking of her as Kate. His Kate. He’d occupy his thoughts with Madeline, but she was constantly nudged into out-of-the-way corners of his mind by his companion. He paced slowly behind Dolly and Kate, his mother beside him. The artificial limb rubbed his stump, but he’d not limp, damned if he would. He intended to take part in the dancing at Dolly’s party, to waltz at least once with Kate before giving all his attention to Madeline. Seated opposite Kate at the oval table in the small dining room, he gave up trying to guard his thoughts. Inside his head, she was Kate. Even when she married Dolly, he’d think of her as Kate. She’d be part of his family. He’d be a loving uncle to her children. If he and Madeline had no children, Kate’s eldest son would inherit. His mother’s voice dragged him back from the future. “You may serve now, Blewett.” One of the footmen served the fish, another, the potatoes and other vegetables. The butler poured chilled white wine into crystal glasses.
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The familiar ritual pleased Richard. For months he had shut himself away in his gloomy rooms, chosen to eat alone, and sunk in his own dark thoughts, refused to see friends, until… Until his companion walked into his life and threw a book at him. He willed her to raise her eyes, and look at him. She lifted the wineglass to her lips. “It is an excellent wine, is it not, Miss Thurston?” Her eyes widened, and he nearly drowned in their blue depths. “I am not an expert on wines, Lord Glenmore, but I find it very pleasant.” She lowered her gaze, and gave her attention to the food on her plate. His mother’s cheerful voice diverted him from further conversation with Kate. “Now we’re all home, it’s time we made plans for the party. It is but a fortnight away, and I’ve not assembled my guest list. We’ll keep the numbers down. A hundred would be about right. Of course, not everyone will stay, but we can easily accommodate sixty. What do you think, Richard?” Catherine set down her knife and fork, unable to eat another bite. A hundred guests. Sixty to occupy the bedrooms. They’d require her room. It was past time for her to leave, and return to London. Aware with every heartbeat of Lord Glenmore sitting opposite, Catherine searched for the right words to ask to be relieved of her duties. To stay on as his companion was out of the question. She’d speak up now while they discussed the party. It might embarrass them to ask her to vacate her room. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she turned to Lady Glenmore. “My lady, you and your family have been most kind to me. I have enjoyed my time with you, although once or twice I came close to running away.” She smiled brilliantly at Lord Glenmore. “And we have been very happy to have you with us. Is that not so, Richard?” His mother raised her brows. “Never mind him,” Dolly interjected. “I spent the best part of a week with Catherine while you were in London, and lucky I was to find such an unexpected and memorable welcome home after soldiering in India. You’re a sly old fox, Richard. You never mentioned having a beautiful companion.” Catherine bent her head to hide the blushes heating her cheeks. Dolly was so sweet, and his mother and Mr. Edward had done everything possible to make her stay pleasant. Only he had been difficult…and that had changed for the better until he returned from London. Still moody and unpredictable, Lord Glenmore shifted from light to dark without warning. Like as not, he’d speak up now, and she’d be able to take her leave, tomorrow, if possible. “Catherine.” She raised her eyes when he spoke to her. “I have benefited from your presence, even when you threw a book at me.”
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“But you threw one first,” she sputtered. For the first time since he’d returned home, he smiled at her. A real smile. Not a chilly, polite smile. “As I was saying, before you interrupted me, you were very persistent. I could not get rid of you, no matter how hard I tried. So I finally gave in.” He paused. “Thank you for putting up with me.” Catherine knew she was going to cry. Fumbling a handkerchief from her skirt pocket, she pressed it against her eyes, and stopped the tears. “I…uh…that is what I wished to speak about. Lord Glenmore, you no longer require a companion.” She turned to his mother. “With your permission, my lady, I will leave tomorrow and return to London.” “You’ll do nothing of the kind.” Lord Glenmore snapped. “I will decide when I no longer require a companion.” “Richard, please do not speak to Catherine in that manner.” Lady Glenmore drew in a deep breath. “I would very much like you to remain until after the party, my dear. Then I shall make arrangements for your return to London. Having you here has been a delight, a change from being the only female in a family of men.” Dolly stood, and raised his glass of wine. “A toast to Catherine, may she dance the night away with me at the party.” Lightheaded, thinking she might faint for the second time in her life, Catherine willed herself to remain calm. A guest at Dolly’s party? A guest like other guests? How would she be introduced? How to account for her presence in the house? “Thank you, my lady. You are very kind. And thank you, Dolly for your toast. I am not sure about dancing the night away.” She straightened her back. “If Lord Glenmore wishes me to continue as his companion until my contract expires, I shall do so.” He raised his glass. “Excellent. Perhaps you will accompany me to the stables this afternoon.” His change of mood caught her by surprise. “I will be pleased to do so, my lord. Do you intend to ride?” “I may.” “Then I shall go with you.” Dolly announced. “You’ll need some assistance to get the hang of using that newfangled leg.” If looks could kill, his brother would be dead on the spot. Much as he loved Dolly, Richard wished to spend time alone with Kate. To apologize for his boorish remarks. To make her smile. Not the fake smile she’d flashed at him moments ago. Her usual friendly smile. The way she’d smiled at Dolly when he raised his glass spoke volumes. Kate cared for him, that was obvious, but if he thought to steal every dance with her at the party, then they had best have it out before the guests arrived. His companion owed him a waltz or two.
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Dolly would have the rest of his life to be with her. Whereas he could only claim her attention for another few weeks. Would they marry here or in London? As head of the family, he might insist they exchange their vows at the church in Abbeyleigh, and receive their guests at the manor. Kate’s London home was not sizable enough to host a large party, and her mother’s finances would certainly not stretch beyond a small gathering. Although Kate had never once discussed her family difficulties, his queries in London had shed light on the subject. He would finance the wedding. Dolly had his own fortune. They’d not lack for money. “This is as good a time as any to tell you.” Dolly tipped back in his chair looking pleased with himself. “Tell us what?” Richards’s gut tightened. Was he about to declare his intention to ask for Kate’s hand? Without discussing it with him? Had he called on Lady Jane Thurston when they were in London? “I’m resigning my commission. I’ve decided to give up soldiering and do something different.” “Like what?” Richard asked. Dolly loved army life. What had changed his mind? Kate? “Head for the colonies. Canada, to start. It’s closest. Gold fever is rife on the west coast. I might try my hand at prospecting.” A hush fell over the table. Richard studied Kate’s face to see her reaction. Surely Dolly did not intend to drag her into the wilds of Canada. A broad smile on her lips, she cupped her hands under her chin. “What a wonderful adventure! I know someone who hopes to take ship for Victoria. That’s on the west coast, is it not? She expects to be on her way within weeks.” Dolly laughed. “Sounds like you have a courageous friend. Not many young women take readily to long sea voyages.” “When did you decide to quit the army?” Richard asked. “You said nothing about it in London. I’m sure Mother is as surprised as I at your news.” Dolly shrugged. “Been thinking about it for a while but coming home really convinced me to resign. I was tired of being shot at, for one thing, and wanted to try my luck in the colonies, for another. The whole world is out there waiting for me.” “But you’ve only just come home. Why I’ve scarcely seen you. You’re not leaving soon, I hope.” Lady Glenmore signaled the footman to clear the plates. “Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll be here all summer. After serving in India, I want nothing more than to enjoy the peace and quiet of the English countryside. Catherine and I will have fine times together.” Kate sat forward in her chair. “But I’ll not be here for the summer, Dolly. I return to London within weeks.”
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“Then we shall invite you to stay. The air in London is not healthy in the summer. Much better for you to remain here.” Dolly grinned at her. “Perhaps Miss Thurston has other plans.” Richard frowned at his brother. Devil take him, he’d intended this all along. Never known him to be so devious, but where Kate was concerned, he seemed capable of pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes. The tip of her tongue wet her lips. “I think not, Dolly. I must return to London. My mother is alone and misses me.” A pleased smile on her lips, Lady Glenmore gazed around the table. “I have a splendid idea. Let me invite Lady Jane to spend the summer with us. There is cholera in London, she might enjoy a change of scene and the air is so much healthier here in the country.” No, no, no, no! A clamor arose inside Catherine’s head. That would not do. Not while Lord Glenmore kept her on edge, never knowing from one minute to the next what she might say or do to change his mood. But…her mother would love being here. This was the kind of life she craved. She missed all the trappings of wealth, and once had high hopes Catherine would marry well. Instead of marrying, she’d taken paid work, and fallen out of society into a lonely, classless limbo. Perhaps her mother’s social standing would rise when it was mooted about town she had spent the summer at Glenmore Manor as a guest. “Well, what do you think?” Lord Glenmore asked. “Will your mother come for the summer or not?” Unable to read the expression on his face, trapped into answering, she breathed deeply to calm herself. “Thank you. I am sure she will be delighted but…” “But?” He raised his brows. “I will be seeking employment, and hope to find another position as a companion. I may not be able to stay here. If you and Lady Glenmore will give me a good reference, I should have no trouble…” He cut her off. “You will have excellent references from both of us at the end of the summer. Is that clear? My mother has extended an invitation to you and Lady Jane to spend June to September with us. Do you accept?” Catherine ignored him, and turned to Lady Glenmore. “Thank you, my lady. I am delighted to accept your invitation.” “Well, what an eventful luncheon this has been.” Lady Glenmore nodded at the butler to draw back her chair. Her sons stood while she rose to her feet. “I must visit Edward, and tell him all the news. Then I am going to rest. All this excitement has tired me. Run along and enjoy yourselves. I’ll join you for tea.”
***** Catherine did not want to go anywhere. Not until the turmoil racketing through her body from head to toe stopped plaguing her, and she could think clearly. 92
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“Come along, Catherine. Off you go to change into your riding costume, Richard and I will meet you at the stables.” Dolly escorted her from the table into the entrance hall. Catherine hesitated. “I think you might welcome an opportunity to ride together. Perhaps I’ll join you tomorrow.” Lord Glenmore shook his head. “That will not do, Miss Thurston, I desire your company. If you do not care to ride, then you may read to me for the rest of the afternoon. If you recall, you did not finish Chapter Four of Boswell’s Life of Johnson.” Catherine tried not to smile. He sounded like his old self. Gruff, ordering her around, but underneath, a hint of laughter lurked in his voice. “Very well, my lord, I will meet you at the stables.” She curtsied. A deep curtsy. Dolly chuckled. “Very nicely done, Catherine, the queen would have loved it. Richard probably did not notice.” He headed for the staircase. She glanced at Lord Glenmore. Grinning wickedly, he dropped his canes and reached for her hands. “Come, let me assist you. Don’t want you tottering over.” Dazed by his nearness, the warmth of his hands drawing her close to him, Catherine, who prided herself on her sweeping curtsies, momentarily lost her balance, and staggered against him. Immediately his arms circled her and, helpless to resist, she rested her head on his chest. “Kate.” Did she hear aright? It was the merest whisper, all but drowned out by the blood pulsing in her ears. “My lord.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “Thank you for assisting me.” Very slowly, he released her and bowed, an unfathomable expression on his face. “You must take more care when you curtsy, Miss Thurston, I may not always be close by to save you from toppling over.” “Would you please call me, Catherine, my lord, rather than Miss Thurston? It seems so very formal.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Very well, Catherine it will be. If that is what you prefer.” Dolly hailed them from the stop of the staircase. “Come along you two. Time’s awasting.” Ignoring Dolly, Catherine gazed at Lord Glenmore. “That is what I prefer.” She wished he had suggested Kate. She liked being Kate. Liked being reminded of how he had teased her. As though reading her mind, he smiled. “You will be Catherine in public and Kate when we are alone. Kate suits you much better.” Thinking her heart might take flight Catherine lifted his hands from her shoulders. “Thank you, my lord.”
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“No, Kate. If you are to be Catherine, and sometimes Kate, then you must call me Richard. Not another “my lord” or I shall insist you read aloud The Life of Johnson from start to finish.” Tension trickled away from Catherine, leaving her knees weak. “Very well, Richard.” She cleared her throat of the frog lurking there. “I’ll go and change.”
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Chapter Eleven Safe in her room, away from his disturbing presence, she paced the floor, tossed her dress aside, and kicked off her shoes. He’d held her in his arms after she’d curtsied. He’d whispered her name. Kate. She’d rested her head on his chest. Heard his heart beat and heat had eddied and swirled in deep, unexpected places. A pulse quivered in her private parts, and her breasts seemed to have a life of their own and tightened under her cotton shift. Alarmed at the sensations coursing through her, Catherine stripped naked, filled the washbasin with cold water, dipped her face into it, swept water over her breasts and leaned her arms in, up to the elbows. After patting herself dry with a thick towel, she stood back, and examined her breasts in the gilt-framed bathroom mirror. With a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Anna had not entered the bedroom and might see her, Catherine cradled her breasts in her hands. They felt nice. Round and soft and heavy. Like plump globes. With rosy crowns and pale brown nipples. How pretty they were. Would she dare sketch them? Only if she were absolutely sure no one would ever… No she’d not sketch them. That might be considered wicked. Well brought up young ladies did not draw nudes. Flowers, birds and country scenes, were suitable subjects. Or… Catherine smiled and turned away from the mirror, remembering the sketch she had done of Richard… He’d be waiting for her to ride with him! In a mad rush, she changed into her riding costume, pulled on her boots, and ran downstairs, catching up with him and Dolly on the path near the stables. He was limping slightly, but his long stride matched Dolly’s. They halted when they heard her footsteps. Richard turned to greet her. “I thought you had forgotten your promise to ride with me.” “Oh, no… I.” She’d not tell him she’d been admiring her breasts. “I had to put a stitch in the hem of my skirt.” “Come between us, Catherine.” Dolly slipped her arm through his. She smiled at Richard. “Does it tire you to walk? I’d be pleased to fetch the chair.” His eyes darkened and her heart plummeted into her boots. Had she said the wrong thing? Would he sting her with a caustic remark about her place as his companion not as a giver of advice? “Thank you but I no longer require the chair.” There was a slight edge to his voice, but at least he had not embarrassed her in front of Dolly. 95
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“I sent ahead to have the horses saddled. Misty for you. I want to see how you handle her.” Catherine relaxed. He’d forgiven her for the mistake about the wheeled chair. “She’s not a bit of trouble. Does everything I ask of her, flies over fences like a bird. What horse have you chosen?” “Prince will do for my first time back in the saddle. He’s feisty enough to give me a good hard ride, and not likely to balk when I mount from the right side.” The grooms led the horses from the stable and Dolly helped Catherine into the saddle. Immediately Misty tossed her head, pranced sideways, frolicked over to Richard and nuzzled into one of his jacket pockets. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?” He produced sugar lumps for her and stroked her head while she lipped the sugar from his hand. Catherine’s heart went out to him. For months and months he had not been near his horses, depriving himself of the pleasure they gave him. But she could not take any credit for the change in him. Before her arrival at Glenmore Manor, he must have been on the mend. Had his mother waited another week or two, she wouldn’t have advertised for a female companion. “Dolly, hold Prince’s head while I mount.” His voice broke into Catherine’s thoughts. He stepped up on the mounting block, tossed his canes aside, grasped Prince’s reins, shoved his right boot into the stirrup, and swung into the saddle before the horse could react. Leaning to the left, he fitted his other boot into the stirrup. “Feels awkward but I’ll soon get the hang of it.” Beaming, he waited for Dolly to mount. “Off you go, Catherine, we’ll follow.” She kicked her heels into Misty. The day was glorious. Blue sky. Bright sun. The scents of spring. Birds singing. Happier than she’d ever been in her entire life, she threw caution to the winds, and let Misty have her head. Richard and Dolly raced up alongside her. “Over this way.” Richard whooped. Off and running at full speed, he took the lead with Dolly in pursuit. Catherine tore after them. He’s mad, she thought. The first time in the saddle after months of idleness, and he’s off like a shot. Fearless or feckless, he sat his horse with absolute confidence. Coming up behind the brothers, she admired their style. Easy in the saddle, true cavalry officers, they thundered ahead of her. Then Catherine realized what they were doing. One brother trying to outdo the other. Yelling like wild Indians, they galloped over a small rise, and disappeared down the far side. When she crested the hill, they were nowhere in sight. Puzzled, Catherine slowed Misty, and trotted down to the small lake where she’d seen the white swans. Off to one side was a dense stand of trees. “Ha!” she whispered into Misty’s ear. “I know where they are.”
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Edging around the trees, she waited until the last possible minute, then slid from the saddle, whacked Misty on the rump, and ducked out of sight into the woods. The mare lifted her nose, pricked her ears, and did just what Catherine expected. She followed after the other horses. Silent as a wraith, or as best she could manage with twigs cracking under her feet, Catherine stole through the trees. Suddenly an arm snaked out, and grabbed her around the waist. “So, my proud beauty, thought to sneak up on us, did you? What shall we do with her, Dolly?” Richard chortled, and held her fast. Dolly sauntered from behind a giant oak tree. Frowning, he looked Catherine up and down. An evil leer marred his usual sunny countenance. “Burning at the stake? Not possible, not enough dry wood.” “Make her walk back to the house? No. That would be too cruel.” “I have an excellent suggestion. Because she fell right into our trap, and is not screaming her head off, we’ll allow her to ride home with us in time for tea.” Richard released her. “Haven’t had so much fun since we were lads, and used to give our female cousins hysterics when we trapped them here and threatened to burn them alive. Believed us too, didn’t they Dolly?” Catherine burst out laughing. “What little horrors you must have been…and still are, leading me astray like that.” “Then you forgive us?” Richard grinned at her. She’d have forgiven him anything at that moment. To see him so happy with not a trace of suffering on his face, sent warmth chasing up and down her spine. This was the teasing, playful Richard his mother had spoken of. The difficult, ill-humored man she had first encountered no longer existed. With a haughty toss of her head, Catherine gave him and Dolly a killing look. “Very well, but next time, I will be more alert. I can be just as devious as you two.” Richard raised her hand to his lips, and breathed a kiss on it. “I might have known you’d be a match for us. You should have seen her when she threw a book at me, Dolly. A shrew if I ever saw one and a devilish clever artist.” Catherine swallowed hard. The intimacy between them was almost more than she could bear. They spoke a secret language. He had a private name for her. Her sketch hung in his bedchamber. Dolly came to her rescue and, taking her arm, led her through the trees to the patiently waiting horses. “Shrew indeed! What a calumny. A more pleasant companion I cannot imagine. From what Mother told me, you charmed him back to life.” “Charmed?” Catherine raised her brows. “I don’t think he’ll agree with that. I irritated him so much, he traveled to London to escape.”
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Richard nodded, a teasing smile on his lips. “Very true, never had a minute’s peace after you invaded my den. But I must say you have mellowed since I returned home. Although now and again I discern a little of the old Catherine waiting to pounce.” “Don’t listen to him.” Dolly tapped his brother on the shoulder. “He’s a miserable old brute. Doesn’t know what’s good for him.” Laughing together, they cleared the woodland. Misty trotted over, and Dolly went to fetch the other horses from where they were grazing. Catherine turned to Richard. “I’m pleased you are riding again. You look quite different from…” “From the ill-humored monster you first encountered. God only knows why you put up with me.” She suppressed a smile. “You challenged me, and I was determined not to let you chase me away.” She leaned against Misty and stroked her tawny hide. “But truth to tell, had your mother not paid me three months’ wages in advance, I would have left after you pitched that book at me. You frightened me half to death.” He rested one hand on her arm and his eyes searched hers. “I’ll regret that to my dying day. Had you left, I might never have seen you again, and Dolly would never have met you. You’ve become a part of our family.” Catherine died a little inside. Part of the Glenmore family? Not possible. It was a temporary arrangement until the end of summer. He was being polite. “Will you help me into the saddle, Richard?” Placing her left boot in his cupped hands, he boosted her up. She looked down at him. “I’ve enjoyed today. It has been great fun.” “Then we’ll do it again. Every day, if you like.” He arched one dark eyebrow. “Unless you prefer reading to me?” Catherine chuckled, and kicked her heels into Misty. “Anything but the Life of Johnson,” she called over her shoulder, and raced away before they had a chance to mount their horses. “What a splendid girl.” Dolly declared, and gave Richard a leg up to mount his horse. “She has Edward eating out of her hand, and you’ve taken a real fancy to her.” Richard fiddled with the reins. “I’m fond of Catherine, that’s true. She’s been good for me, wouldn’t let me wallow in misery. She gave me merry hell one day about feeling sorry for myself.” Uncomfortable talking about Kate, he urged Prince into a fast gallop. Side by side, he and Dolly crested the hill. Kate was far ahead of them.
***** “What about you, Dolly? What do you think of my companion?” Richard called out to him.
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“Think of her? I like her better than any girl I’ve ever met.” Dolly barreled on ahead. “I’ll catch up with her.” Richard slowed his horse to an easy trot. His brother was clearly enamored of Kate and she was fond of him. They made a handsome couple. Then why feel so gloomy? He should be happy for them. Up ahead, Dolly had caught up with Kate. He was right, of course. She was a splendid girl. Why those idiot men in London allowed her to slip through their fingers was his gain, and their loss. He’d gain a sister… He clenched his hands around the reins. Kate. His sister? Wife of his brother? An emptiness settled in his chest. When they took ship for the west coast of Canada, he’d not see her for years. Maybe never. Prince slowed to a standstill. Richard wrestled with his conscience daring himself to admit the truth. The truth was he loved Kate. Wanted to touch her. Wanted to hold her in his arms and kiss her. Wanted to marry her. Wanted to be the first man to make love to her. He blew out the breath he’d been holding. He could not have her, that was a given. He was still betrothed to Madeline and if Dolly had not spoken to Kate yet, it would not be long before he did. He showed all the signs of a man falling in love. Determined to conceal his own feelings for Kate, he nudged Prince with his knees. “Let’s get moving, they’ll be at the stable waiting for me.” The next question bedeviling him was what to do about Madeline? Their betrothal had nearly foundered in London. He had changed, but had Madeline? She was coming to Dolly’s party with her parents to resolve any difficulties between them, and to make arrangements for them to wed. “Are you all right?” Dolly rode back to meet him. “Catherine is at the stable. I suggested she return to the house, but she said she’d wait for you.” Richard snapped the reins and Prince broke into a fast trot. “Then we’d best not keep her waiting. I’ve no doubt my companion is making sure I am all in one piece, and capable of walking back to the house.” Kate sat on a bench under a holly tree. Sunlight glistened on the shiny green leaves and red berries. He caught his breath when he saw her. Under the radiant canopy over her head, she appeared like a golden-haired sprite. She’d not worn a hat and her curls had escaped the ribbon holding them back. His hands itched to thread his fingers through her tresses, lift the hair from her nape, and drift kisses over her soft skin. A stirring in his loins warned him to guard his thoughts. Disgusted with himself for lusting after her, he dismounted, straightened his jacket, retrieved one of his canes from the groom, and walked over to her. “Fetch my other cane when you come. I’ll see how I go with one.” Dolly stayed behind to speak to the head stable boy.
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“Shall we start back?” Kate stood. He offered her his arm. Immediately, he knew it was not a good idea. She rested her gloved hand in his. Her trusting, innocent hand, while he battled the illicit passion heating his blood. “Richard, may I ask you something?” He flinched. Had his demeanor changed? Had she caught a hint of his lascivious thoughts? Striving for calm, he forced a smile. “Of course.” “I hope you will not be shocked, and you have every right to refuse my request.” “Tell me, Kate. I promise not to be shocked.” “When I rode around our Dorset land, I rode astride. I really dislike riding sidesaddle. I never feel I am in perfect control, especially taking fences.” She withdrew her arm. “My riding skirt is not a skirt at all. Look.” She whirled in a circle to show him the split skirt. “I think the French name is culottes. I can ride astride wearing my culottes. Are you shocked? If you think it unladylike or that it might upset your mother, then I shall not do so.” He clasped her hands to stop the whirling. “Very little shocks my mother. From the stories Father told us about her youth, she was full of feats of daring-do, and Dolly and I are quite unshockable. However, there is a problem. We may not have a saddle just right for you. We’ll have a look at them tomorrow.”
***** “Richard, you are the dearest man.” Kate kissed him. A feathery light kiss on his cheek. It burned straight to his loins. Dolly strode up to them. “Kip Jones tells me he is feeling his age, ‘creaking a bit about the knees,’ is the way he put it. I think he’ll need more help. He’s been here since we were lads. It must be near time to pension him off.” Richard breathed a sigh of relief. Kip Jones he could deal with, but not Kate. If he was to survive the summer with her, then he’d best keep his distance. “I’ll speak to Kip in the morning.” Dolly handed him his other cane. With two hands occupied, he’d not be tempted to touch her. “Time we returned to the house. It must be close to tea.” Head down as though deep in thought, he walked on ahead. Kate and Dolly, laughing about something, followed behind. When did he fall in love with her? A sudden memory flashed behind his eyes. It was the day following Madeline’s visit. He had persuaded Kate to enter his sitting room with a promise not to throw a book at her. The window curtains were slightly open. Caught in a shaft of sunlight, she stood with her back against the wall. He’d expected a plain-looking spinster, instead a golden-haired, blue-eyed vision had robbed him of speech. That was the day he had forced his mouth on hers, and she’d knocked him down. He suppressed a smile, and wished he could relive those first days when he had Kate all 100
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to himself. He’d been celibate too long, that was the problem. Kate’s presence as his companion had aroused his libido. If Dolly had not arrived when he did, she might have been his. And Madeline? What of her? Weary of his thoughts, he reached the steps ahead of Kate and Dolly. “Look at the sky. There’s a storm brewing. We’ll not be riding out again today.” Catherine shivered. Off to the east, great billowing black clouds threatened. “Do you remember the day I arrived, Richard? Thunder. Lightning. Rain lashing down. And I landed on your doorstep like a drowned rat.” “I don’t remember a thing. I’d persuaded Mother to cancel the arrangements with you, and was happily hunkered down in my room listening to the wind howl. No female companion for me. I might have turned you out in the storm.” The distant tone in his voice confused Catherine. There was something so…so dismissive in his last statement. No female companion for me. Not a hint of amusement threaded through his words. Yet at luncheon he had actually thanked her for putting up with him, and had played games with her when he captured her in the woodland. Catherine shook her head. Would she ever understand this difficult man? Pulled this way and that with his changing moods, she had no way of knowing from one minute to the next his frame of mind. Best to avoid him, and spend time with Dolly, Edward and Lady Glenmore. But she was still officially his paid companion, and he had every right to claim her attention. A rumble of thunder hastened Catherine indoors and up to her room. She closed the French doors against the advancing storm. The boiler had been lit in her bathroom. Refreshed from washing her face, hands, arms and shoulders, she put on her cream colored Egyptian cotton blouse and tucked it into a pale gray, silk skirt. She had deemed the combination suitable for a companion, with no added fripperies or furbelows to draw attention to her. She loved color, and was sorely tempted to throw Riena’s gorgeous silk shawl over her shoulders. She drew the gypsy amulet from her skirt pocket. It was supposed to bring her luck. Instead her life had gone from one crisis to another. Perhaps the end of summer would bring a change of fortune, take her away from Glenmore Manor, and its difficult master. Amulet in her hand she closed her eyes and wished. “I wish for Richard not to be so changeable, and for him to like me just a little.” A knock on the door disturbed her reverie. “‘Tis Anna, Miss Thurston. They’re waiting tea for you downstairs.” Catherine’s heart skipped a beat when a flash of lightning ripped across the darkening sky. Glad to have company, she hurried to join the family. Richard and Dolly stood when she entered the dining room.
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“Excuse me if I don’t greet you properly, Catherine.” Edward said and patted the chair beside him. “I dare not disturb my poor gouty toe. Come sit by me. I’ve missed you.” Delighted to see him, Catherine kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed you.” “Aren’t you the lucky fellow, Edward?” Dolly teased. “If I fake an illness, will I receive a kiss from Catherine?” “Only for gout.” Catherine smiled at him. “So you are quite safe.” “Woe is me.” Dolly groaned. “I shall retire to a monastery and nurse my hurt feelings.” Catherine suppressed a grin. “I hope the monastery will provide a cure. I’d not like you locked away forever.” Lady Glenmore poured tea from an ornate silver pot, and handed Catherine a cup. “Dolly in a monastery? It would soon be in an uproar, would it not, Richard?” Catherine had avoided looking at him, preferring to concentrate her attention on Edward and Dolly. Instead of answering his mother, he gazed at Catherine, a wry smile on his lips. “Surely to save Dolly from a monastery, you’d honor his request.” Dolly’s teasing did not embarrass her but Richard’s remark had an edge to it guaranteed to bring a flush to her cheeks. Catherine longed to twist his neck. “I’m sure Dolly can look after himself with no help from me.” Much to Catherine’s relief, Dolly broke the tension crackling between her and his brother. “I’ve decided to bide my time. Some day, you may take pity on a poor soldier just returned from saving India for Her Majesty.” Breathless from hurrying, the butler hastened into the dining room. “Excuse me, Lady Glenmore, but there’s a young person come to the back door asking to speak to Miss Thurston.”
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Chapter Twelve “Asking for me?” Catherine set down her cup. “Yes, Miss. She’s in a bad way, soaking wet and been hurt.” He cleared his throat. “I believe she may be a gypsy. She gave me this to show you.” Riena’s amulet dangled from his fingers. Catherine jumped to her feet, and caught hold of the amulet. “It belongs to my friend, Riena. Please excuse me, my lady, I must go to her. Where is she, Blewett?” “The housekeeper put a chair for her in the passageway by the back door.” Richard stood. “I’ll come with you, Catherine. You may require assistance.” They found Riena cowering on the chair—her clothing soaked and dripping on the floor. She raised her bruised face to Catherine. A small cut oozed blood by her right temple. “Please let me stay long enough to dry off. I won’t be any trouble.” Catherine knelt beside her. “Riena, you are injured. You cannot leave until…” Catherine turned to Richard. “Lord Glenmore, this is Riena Stanley, a dear friend of mine. May I look after her? She is not fit to travel.” He bowed. “Of course you may care for her.” Catherine could have hugged him. He’d acknowledged Riena without a hint of arrogance, as though a bedraggled gypsy girl coming to his door asking for shelter was an everyday occurrence. He immediately took charge. “Ask the housekeeper for towels to wrap around your friend. Take her to your room, and put her to soak in a hot bath. I’ll send up ointments for those cuts and bruises on her face.” He smiled at Riena. “Catherine will make sure you are soon warm and dry.” Riena staggered to her feet, and caught hold of Catherine’s hands. “My crystal. I left the box under the hedge near the door. I must not lose it.” “Your crystal?” Richard asked. “It belongs to Riena…” Catherine paused. Would he think ill of her gypsy friend if she told him about the fortune telling? Catherine slid her tongue over her lips, and chose her words carefully. “She inherited a crystal globe from her grandmother. It’s a treasured possession.” “Then I shall retrieve it.” He limped out into the storm, and returned with the box. “There you are, no harm done.” Her eyes misty with grateful tears, Catherine’s gaze lingered on him. “Thank you, my lord.”
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He touched her hand. “Look after your friend. I’ll inform my mother, and we’ll have a room prepared for her. She’ll be safe here.” “I’ll fetch some towels, Riena. I won’t be a minute.” Catherine dashed into the kitchen. “Mrs. Paige, I have to dry off my friend. May I have two or three towels?” The housekeeper didn’t bat an eye. She opened an airing cupboard, and handed Catherine four towels. “Is the girl is a friend of yours, Miss Thurston?” Catherine nodded. “From when I was a child. Lord Glenmore has given me permission to care for her.” When Catherine returned, he was holding Riena’s wrist. “Her pulse is strong. She’ll soon be herself once those bruises heal.” “What’s keeping you so long?” Dolly called out, striding toward them. Seeing Riena, he stopped in his tracks. “My God who did this to her?” “I don’t know yet.” Catherine wrapped towels around her friend. “Come Riena, we’ll talk later.” Richard stared after them. “Some brute has beaten her, and she’s run here for shelter. She must have known Catherine was living with us.” Dolly cracked his knuckles. “I’d like to get my hands on the man who did it. She must be the girl Catherine told us about, seems they knew each other as children. What’s to become of her?” They sauntered back to the dining room, and their interrupted tea. “For the moment, Catherine will care for her. From the look of Riena, she’ll not be fit to leave here for several days until those bruises and the cut on her face heals.” “She’s had a terrible beating.” Dolly paused outside the dining room door. “I can’t bear to see a woman hurt like that. We must help her out.” A troubled frown creased their mother’s brow when they took their places at the table. “Where is Catherine?” “Her friend has been injured, and Catherine is caring for her. Riena Stanley is the gypsy girl Catherine told us about.” Richard shook his head. “Someone has beaten her. Her face is bruised, one eye almost swollen shut, and there’s a cut over her temple. I promised to send up ointments.” “Oh dear, oh dear, that is dreadful. Who would do such a thing?” Edward asked. “We don’t know.” Dolly beat a rapid tattoo on the table with his fingers. “But when we do, I shall find him, and make him pay for what he’s done to her.” Lady Glenmore signaled the footman. He drew back her chair. “Have a fresh pot of tea sent in, and have Mrs. Paige prepare a tray to be sent up for Miss Thurston and her friend. I had best go and speak with Catherine. I have healing ointments for the girl.” Richard resumed his seat after she left. “Mother is a remarkable woman, nothing seems to faze her. I thought she might have some qualms about taking in a gypsy, but it did not seem to trouble her in the least.”
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“Probably because Riena is Catherine’s friend, and she trusts Catherine’s judgment.” Dolly helped himself to three tiny sausage rolls. “Mother thinks the world of your companion. She treats her like the daughter she never had. You really ought to be more pleasant to Catherine. I’ve caught her looking at you when you’ve been a bit abrupt, and I swear she is either going to burst into tears or hit you. Serve you right if she threw another book at your thick head.”
***** Catherine assisted Riena up the staircase and along the hallway to the bathroom. A lighted lamp hung from the ceiling and a fire glowed under the boiler heating water for the bathtub and washbasin. “What is this place, Catherine?” Riena whispered. She held the towels tight around her wet clothes. “A bathing room.” Suddenly aware that her gypsy friend had probably never seen indoor bathing facilities, Catherine smiled reassuringly. “You’ll come to no harm here. The tub is for you to bathe in. I’ll run warm water into it, and leave you to wash yourself.” Catherine turned on a tap. Hot water gushed out. Riena stepped over to look. “Am I to sit in it?” “Sit in it. Lie in it. Wash your hair. Do whatever pleases you.” “And do I take off everything? When I bathe in a river, I keep part of me covered.” “You can take everything off. No one will see you. I think the water is just right. Let me help you out of your outer garments.” Riena peeled off one thing after the other. Off came a shawl, a jacket, a patterned vest, three blouses and four colorful skirts, all dripping wet. Catherine could not believe her eyes. “Why are you wearing so many clothes?” Tugging off her red leather boots, Riena shivered. “He…my husband threatened to kill me. He beat me, said I was holding back money from him. Two nights ago, I mixed a potion to make him sleep soundly. When I was sure he would not wake until morning, I put on every bit of clothing I could, got my money from its hiding place, picked up my crystal box and left the camp.” Catherine’s heart ached for her friend. “Thank goodness you thought to come here. Do you think he’ll know where you are?” Riena shook her head. “I don’t think so. Even if someone from the tribe mentioned your visit to our camp, he’d never expect me to run to you. We were miles away from here when I left.” “You’re safe now and I’ll take good care of you.” She paused. “So, no more talking. Soak in the bathtub. It’ll do you a lot of good. I’ll take your things down to the laundry and have them washed and find something for you to wear in the meantime.” She gathered up Riena’s wet clothing. “I have your amulet in the other room.”
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“Here, take this with you.” She unbuckled a wide belt cinched over a plain, cotton shift. “It’s my money belt. There’s also a place in it for my gold trinkets.” A little smile brightened her bruised face. “I wouldn’t leave my gold for him. Most of it came from my grandmother.” Catherine, close to tears for her troubled friend, placed the belt on top of the wet clothing. “I’ll put it away while I go to the laundry. Finish undressing, and climb into the tub before the water is cold. There are fresh towels on the shelf behind you.” She tucked the money belt under her clothing in one of the wardrobe drawers. A knock on the bedroom door surprised her. “May I come in, Catherine?” It was Lady Glenmore. “Of course, my lady.” Catherine was not sure what her ladyship might think of the new arrival, especially since it meant extra work for the staff. “I was about to take Riena’s wet clothing down to the laundry.” “My goodness, what a bundle you have. Was she wearing all those garments?” Catherine nodded. “Riena’s husband beat her, and threatened to kill her. She escaped wearing as many pieces of her clothes as she could. I’ve not heard the whole story. She’s bathing now. I will find something of mine for her to wear. We are close to the same size.” “I’ve brought some ointments for her bruises, and am having tea sent up for both of you. You hardly touched a bite. Speak to Mrs. Paige when you take those things to the kitchen. She’ll have the laundry maids see to them.” Lady Glenmore placed two opaque glass jars, one pink and one blue, on Catherine’s table. “These ointments came from France and are very soothing. Use the ointment from the pink jar first—leave it for several minutes, then smooth on the other. I’ll return later to meet your friend. She is welcome to stay with us until she has healed, and it’s safe for her to leave. I do hope her husband has not followed her.” “I sincerely hope not. I did not know what to do other than take Riena in. She feared for her life.” Lady Glenmore patted Catherine’s hand before taking her leave. “You did exactly what I would have done. Now, run along down the servant’s stairs, and take those wet clothes to the laundry.” Her trip to the kitchen took longer than she expected after taking a wrong turn in the unfamiliar warren of passages at the rear of the house. She opened the wardrobe and looked over her meager selection of clothing, and decided the freshly laundered azure dress would suit Riena who liked bright colors. It was the brightest of Catherine’s dresses. She selected undergarments and, satisfied with her choices, knocked on the bathroom door. “Are you all right? I have dry clothing for you. May I bring them in?” “Yes, I’m out of the bath and wrapped up in a towel.”
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Catherine stepped into the warm room. Riena sat on the edge of the tub, drying her long black hair. “You look better already. How do you feel?” “Much better. I don’t hurt as much. The warm water soothed my legs where he whipped me. Look at what he did.” She raised the towel above her knees. Angry red welts inflamed her skin. “I’ll never forget your kindness, Catherine. You saved my life.” Catherine choked back the bile rising in her throat. The extent of Riena’s injuries sickened her. “He will not find you here. We’ve two strong men to protect us if he dares show his face.” Catherine handed her the clothing. “Lady Glenmore sent up ointments for your bruises. I’m to use the salve from the pink jar first, then the blue one.” She opened the pink jar and dipped her fingers in. Riena winced as Catherine smoothed the ointment over the bruises and welts on her friend’s legs and closed the jar. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” “It’s all right. The ointment feels cool on my skin now.” “Lady Glenmore is sending up tea. You can tell me everything after you’re dressed and we’ve had something to eat.” “Wait.” Riena held up her hand. “Lady Glenmore? Is she the wife of Lord Glenmore?” “She is his mother. Lord Glenmore is not married, although he is betrothed.” “To you?” Riena’s dark eyes studied Catherine. “Good heavens, no, whatever made you think that?” “He loves you.” Riena swirled her hair behind her ears and quickly braided it. Catherine shook her head. “Lord Glenmore barely tolerates me. I am his paid companion.” “You are mistaken. He loves you. I knew it the moment he stood beside you. It’s a wonder to me you don’t feel it.” “Riena Stanley, you are talking nonsense. Hurry and dress, I can hear Anna in the other room setting out the tea things.” Glad to escape from Riena’s questioning gaze, Catherine ducked out of the bathroom. Her friend was overwrought, perhaps a little sick in the head from the beating she’d endured. A day or two of rest and she’d come to her senses. She’d been in too much pain to observe Richard and probably mistook his compassion for something else. Had it been Dolly, Riena might have been partly right. Not the kind of love she meant though. More like the love between a brother and sister. Catherine thought Dolly the best, the nicest, the most loving man she had ever met. Big handsome Dolly. He’d be a wonderful husband. Catherine smiled to herself. Perhaps Dolly loved her, but she hoped not because she did not love him the way a woman should love a man.
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He’d kissed her once at Abbeyleigh station. It was a very nice kiss. Not like the kiss… A flush heated her cheeks. She did not want to remember how Richard had kissed her as she was leaving his rooms. It hadn’t been a gentle kiss. More hard and demanding. It had made her jumpy, and hot, and uncomfortable. “There’s your tea, Miss. I hope your friend is feeling better.” “What?” Catherine blinked. “I’m sorry, Anna, my thoughts were miles away. Thank you for bringing our tea. Riena and I will enjoy it.” Catherine sank into one of the wing chairs when Anna left. She’d discourage Riena from mentioning Richard. If he found out what she had said, Catherine would die of shame. Not only had her friend’s body been bruised, but her mind was affected as well. But try as she might, Catherine could not erase Riena’s words from her mind. He loves you. That was impossible. Such a thing had never occurred to her. How could it? Richard was betrothed, and why would he be the slightest bit interested in her? She had been useful to him that was all. Seeking a diversion, she turned her attention to Riena’s box containing the crystal. She’d carried it upstairs for her friend, and placed it on the floor by the other wing chair. Its contents fascinated her but she resisted the temptation to undo the brass clasps and take the globe in her hands. Perhaps it would be unlucky for her to touch it. The palms of her hands prickled. She had never been superstitious about gypsies but… What if Riena had special powers? What if… No that was impossible even for Riena. She couldn’t possibly know anything about Richard. He’d been kind to her friend. Something Riena would not have expected from the lord of the manor. That is what she had sensed, his kindness and surprising offer of help. Catherine knew for certain, he had little use for her unless it suited him. Charming one minute, cold and remote the next, she was surprised he’d agreed so readily to his mother’s suggestion that she remain at the manor until the end of summer. Perhaps he intended to spend time in London with Lady Madeline preparing for their nuptials. “What do you think, Catherine? I’ve never worn a Gadji dress before.” Riena stopped in the doorway and gazed around the room. “Is this all yours? It is beautiful.” Catherine beckoned her to sit in the wing chair opposite. “It is lovely. The Glenmore family is very wealthy and assigned me this room when I came to work here.” She quickly changed the subject hoping to divert Riena from making any comments about Richard. “Then we shall have our tea before I apply the other one. Are you hungry?” Riena smothered a yawn. “Hungry and very tired. I’ve scarce eaten or slept for two days.” 108
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Catherine poured cups of tea. “Then let us eat. Lady Glenmore will be along to meet you, and will have ordered a bedroom made ready.” Riena picked up a tiny sandwich and popped it into her mouth. Then another. “How can I stay here, Catherine? I don’t know the ways of your people. I’ve never lived in a house. Caravan life is not like this.” Quick to sense Riena’s discomfort, Catherine leaned toward her. “You must stay until you are well. You and I will have our meals sent up here, and pretend we are living in a caravan. What do you think of that?” Tears trickled down Riena’s cheeks. “I think…I think that will give me time to plan what to do.” “Are you still of a mind to board a bride ship to Canada?” Riena nodded. “Yes. I can’t stay too long here. The ship sails from London within a fortnight.” A grin twisted her swollen lips. “I have to dress as a white girl. The church authorities in charge of the ship would never allow a Romany aboard. I shall be very prim, wearing brown or black, and not don my own clothes until I step on Canadian soil.” “Then I shall teach you our ways while you are here. You will be letter-perfect by the time you leave. No one will guess you are a Romany. You’ll be a mysterious darkhaired beauty.” She leaned over and rested her hand on Riena’s arm. “Enough talking, let’s have our tea.” Lady Glenmore arrived as they finished the cakes. Catherine stood and signaled Riena to join her. “Lady Glenmore, this is my friend, Riena Stanley.” “Welcome to our home, Mrs. Stanley. How are you feeling? My sons tell me you have been through a very difficult time.” Riena bobbed her head. “Yes, ma’am, I am feeling a good deal better, and I thank you for your hospitality.” “We are pleased to help.” Lady Glenmore turned to Catherine. “I’ve had the room to the right of yours prepared for Mrs. Stanley. Perhaps you will come to the library and see me when your friend is settled.” “Thank you, my lady. Riena is very tired. I expect she will sleep the clock round.” Riena’s dark eyes drooped. “Thank you for the soothing ointments, Lady Glenmore. You are very kind.” “You are Catherine’s friend, and are welcome here. We’ll speak again when you are rested.” Smiling, she swept out of the room. Riena sank into her chair. “What a beautiful woman. Little wonder she has such handsome sons.” She lay back and closed her eyes. “Would you smooth on the other ointment? I cannot stay awake much longer.” Using the tips of her fingers, Catherine doctored the bruises with the ointment from the blue jar and setting it aside, crossed over to the wardrobe. “You shall have one of my nightgowns, then off to bed with you.”
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“May I have my money belt?” “Of course, I tucked it away in one of the drawers.” Money belt over one arm and a nightgown over the other, Catherine handed both items to Riena. She opened a pocket in the belt and drew out a small velvet bag. “Hold out your hands.” Catherine cupped her hands together and Riena tipped a shower of gold trinkets into them. Choosing a pair of hooped earrings, she gathered up the other trinkets, and returned them to the bag. “These are for you.” The gold hoops gleamed in Catherine’s hands. “But I cannot accept these. They are much too valuable.” “You must accept my gift. When a Romany offers a gift, it is from the heart. To refuse would bring ill fortune to the giver. You must wear them, and think of me.” Catherine hugged her friend. “I’d not want you to suffer. I will treasure your gift forever.” Smothering a yawn, Riena handed the belt to Catherine. “Keep it and my crystal safe. I would like to sleep.” Catherine saw her to her room and closed the door. The gold earrings, looped over two fingers, glowed in the lamp-lit hallway. Smiling to herself, she returned to her bedchamber, and standing in front of the Cheval glass, shoved her curls out of the way and held the hoops next to her ears. She’d never owned anything quite like these gold hoops. Her earrings were small and unpretentious suitable for an unwed young lady. When and where should she wear the exotic gypsy earrings? Not during daylight hours, they were too showy. But she would wear them at least once, or ill fortune might follow Riena, and that would not do. Catherine folded them into a handkerchief, and tucked them away with the money belt far back in one of the wardrobe drawers. The box with the crystal, she placed on the top shelf, and closed the wardrobe.
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Chapter Thirteen Lady Glenmore had asked to see her. No doubt she was interested in how long Riena intended to stay. Catherine tidied her hair and hurried into the hallway. His door was open. Hoping to pass by unseen, her hopes were thwarted. Seated at his desk, pen in hand, Richard tilted back in his chair when he saw her. “Good evening, Kate. Have you come to read to me?” “No, my lord. Your mother asked to meet with me. If you will excuse me, I am on my way there now.” He loves you. Her chest tightened and she found it hard to breathe. Surely he did not expect her to read to him since he could see well enough to write at his desk. “How is your friend?” “She is much improved, my lord. She is sleeping now, and I do not expect her to wake until morning. She was very tired.” He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. “After dinner, I wish to speak with you. Privately. We’ll have our coffee in my study.” “Your study, my lord?” “Yes, Kate. In my study.” “I don’t know where your study is, my lord.” He thumped his fist on his desk and stood. “Stop calling me my lord! I do not care for this change in you. Did you not agree to call me Richard? If you insist I am your lord, then you must bend your knee, humble yourself, and behave like a proper companion who knows her place.” Catherine gritted her teeth. “I have not changed, my lord, it is you. I cannot fathom your moods. One minute you are pleasant and the next you are harsh and critical. You find fault with me and I am never sure what I have done to upset you.” “Then I must guard my tongue lest you are tempted to throw another book at me.” Picking up his cane, he walked over to Catherine, and held out his hand. “Let us call a truce. Even Dolly thinks I am too abrupt with you at times.” He clasped her hand. Catherine nodded, unable to speak, while the warmth of his touch coursed up her arm, and into her heart. He loves you. Riena’s words pulsed in Catherine’s ears. Shaken, she withdrew her hand, and drew in a deep steadying breath. “A truce.” 111
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“And you will call me Richard.” “Yes.” “At times I may call you Kate. Is that agreeable?” Catherine stepped back a pace. He loves you. “Is that agreeable, Kate?” His eyes searched hers. She swallowed hard, and forced a smile. “Yes, Richard. You may call me Kate, if it pleases you.” “But does it please you, Kate?” He loves you. Lightheaded with Riena’s words thrumming at the back of her mind, Catherine lowered her gaze to the safety of the floor. “Yes, it pleases me. Now I must run along, and meet with your mother.” “I’ll come with you. Mother is probably concerned about Mrs. Stanley.” By the time they reached the library, Catherine had regained her composure. Edward rested his gouty foot on an ottoman, and waved at her. Lady Glenmore, looking worried, set aside her needlework. “Come sit by me.” Dolly stood, and folded up the Times he’d been reading. Catherine sensed something amiss, and joined Dolly. Richard remained standing—his back to the fireplace. Lady Glenmore smoothed her hands over her skirt. “Blewett and Mrs. Paige have been to see me. The servants are very upset at having a gypsy in the house. Mrs. Paige had to be stern with the laundry maids, and stand over them while they washed Mrs. Stanley’s clothing. They fear gypsies, all nonsense, of course, but country girls believe all those old wives’ tales about gypsy curses and the ability to cast spells.” He loves you. Catherine tried to concentrate. “Please do not misunderstand me, Catherine, as far as I am concerned, your friend is welcome but…” “But her presence is causing problems.” Richard thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’ll meet with the servants. They have to understand that Mrs. Stanley is Catherine’s friend, and we cannot turn her out.” “Will it help if I keep Riena out of sight?” Catherine asked. “If you agree, we’ll have our meals sent up to my room. Riena is not used to living in a house, and is almost as uncomfortable as the servants.” Lady Glenmore nodded. “An excellent idea, but do not feel you have to remain indoors. As long as you stay close to the house, there’d be no harm in taking Mrs. Stanley outside.” “What are her plans when she leaves here?” Dolly turned to Catherine.
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“Ever since her husband began beating her, Riena has been putting money aside to pay her passage on a ship sailing to Victoria. She cannot board the ship dressed as a gypsy, and will purchase appropriate clothing in London. Once her bruises heal, she’ll be on her way.” Catherine thought it best not to mention the ship’s female passengers were going to be brides. “I will teach her how to behave like a Gadji while she’s here.” “A Gadji?” Richard asked. “Gadji is a Romany word for people like us. White people, who are not part of the tribe.” “What if her husband tracks her down? The brute might seize her.” Dolly smacked his hands on his knees. “We’ll have to make sure she reaches London safely. Do you know where the ship sails from?” “From the Port of London, I think. Perhaps I should speak to your staff, and assure them Riena is not an evil person? She’s but twenty years old, and has suffered greatly.” Richard smiled at her. “Let me look after it. I don’t want Blewett or Mrs. Paige having to smooth ruffled feathers. The servants will listen to me.” Dolly crossed his arms over his chest. “When your friend is ready to leave, I will escort her to London and, if necessary, convey her safely to the ship she sails on.” “You are a darling man.” Catherine said. “Riena will not have a minute’s worry with you at her side.” Lady Glenmore picked up her needlework. “That’s settled then. We’ll all rest easy knowing she is safe. Mrs. Stanley will be well on her way before our party. The invitations have been sent, and Catherine, I would like you to help with the decorations. Let’s hope for fine weather. I want the ballroom doors open to the terrace, and we’ll have lanterns lighting paths to the gardens. “Young people do like to stroll about. I remember how I used to try and escape the eagle eye of my mother to meet with my current beau.” She laughed. “All quite harmless and such fun. Perhaps I’d feel differently if I had a daughter.” Blewett knocked and entered the library. “Dinner is served, my lord.” Richard assisted his mother from her chair. “Thank you, Blewett. I understand the servants are concerned about Miss Thurston’s friend. Ask them to come to the drawing room after we’ve had our coffee. I will speak to them, and assure them Mrs. Stanley is not a threat.” “Very good, my lord.” Edward dozed in his chair. “Are you coming, Mr. Edward?” Catherine tapped him on the shoulder. His blue eyes blinked open. “Very slowly, my dear, very slowly. You go on ahead with the others.” Richard waited for her. “May I escort you, Kate?” He kept his voice low. The Kate was for her alone. 113
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“Thank you.” He slipped her arm through his and her slim hand rested lightly on his palm. The feel of her soft skin, the tantalizing rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed, the swish of her skirt, the delicate scent of her perfume, it was all he could do to remain steady on his feet. “Do you still wish to see me in your study after dinner?” Kate smiled up at him. He should say no. An unequivocal no. “Yes. Wait for me there. One of the footmen will serve our coffee. I have to speak to the servants first.” “Where is your study? I find it easy to lose myself in this huge house.” He pointed to the left. “Past the morning room, the formal drawing room and the music room. My study is around the next corner.” Kate paused at the dining room. “I’m so happy we’ve declared a truce. I did not think I could spend the summer here if you did not…” “If I did not what?” A flush colored her cheeks. “If you did not want me in the house. I thought you disliked me, and found my presence irritating.” “Dislike you? Is that what you’ve been thinking? That I disliked you? Why you’ve been become part of my life.” Dangerous words. He cleared his throat. “Part of our lives. Mother, Edward and Dolly think the world of you.” “And you?” Kate gazed into his eyes. Damn it all, she expected an answer. “Of course I like you. How could I not like a young lady who throws books at me?” He’d danced around that pitfall nicely. “You are such a tease. You’ll never let me forget that horrid day, will you?” Her smile warmed him, and warmth he did not need. Not then. Not while her innocent smile charmed him into desiring her. This lusting after Kate had to stop. Too long celibate was his problem. He’d love her at a distance, and take good care not to create problems between her and Dolly. Blewett rescued him. “Will you and Miss Thurston be seated, my lord?”
***** Opposite Kate at the table, he encouraged her to tell them more about Riena. “I want to make sure the servants understand why she is here, and how you came to know her. I’ll make it sound like a real-life fairy tale. Perhaps she is a gypsy princess. What do you think?” Kate chuckled. “Riena is not a princess, but her father was head of their tribe. Riena said he was a sorcerer. When we were children, he gave both my brother and me an
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amulet carved with strange symbols. He warned us never to lose them. He said they would bring us luck. Riena’s is similar to mine.” “Do you still have yours?” Richard asked. Kate nodded. “I always have it with me.” “May I see it?” She blushed. “No. Except for my brother and Riena, no one has ever seen it.” “Are you superstitious, Catherine?” Edward twinkled at her. “I believe in ghosts. I saw one in France. It gave me quite a turn. I decided then and there to quit that château of ours, and I never went back.” Glad to have the conversation turn to ghosts rather than gypsy amulets, Catherine wished Richard would not observe her so closely. She concentrated on the delicious roast pheasant, but whenever she raised her eyes, so intent was his gaze, he seemed to be memorizing her face. Did he think she’d been rude to refuse his request to see her amulet? Perhaps she was superstitious. It didn’t seem right to pass it around from hand to hand. She’d always had the notion that the only other person to see it would be her husband. A foolish notion, but one she’d clung to all these years. Her mother’s letters were filled with fretful reproaches about Catherine’s fall from grace, and how hopeless the task of finding a suitable husband for her. “Word has come to me that gossips have learned of your employment. I am fearful of being asked to confirm or deny whether or not it is true.” Catherine had penned the letter inviting her mother to stay at the manor for the summer months. That should please her, and give her something else to think about than her daughter’s uncertain future. She mulled over the idea of following in Riena’s footsteps and booking passage on one of the bride ships. Not that she intended to be a bride, but there’d be opportunities in the colonies for someone like herself. As a governess. A riding instructor. A companion. “Daydreaming, Catherine?” Richard asked. “You seemed miles away. Edward asked if you were superstitious.” Flustered, she dragged her thoughts back from the future. “Sorry, I was thinking about Riena.” “Are you superstitious?” he asked. “Of course not.” Catherine wished he would stop quizzing her, and stop speaking directly to her. His words said one thing, but seemed to mean something else. “Then why not let me see your amulet?” “Very well, I am superstitious. I have a reason not to let you see it.” “Richard, you are making Catherine blush. Do let her be.” His mother turned to her. “You have my permission to throw something at him if he persists in teasing you.”
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Catherine released the breath she’d been holding. “Thank you, my lady. I will bear that in mind.” She raised her wineglass and grinned at him over the rim. “I hope you live in fear and trembling from now on.” “So my little companion becomes a shrew, does she? I’ll have to think on this. After I’ve spoken to the servants, I suggest we meet and discuss this new development.” Dolly raised his brows. “Catherine, I will be your champion if he treats you ill.” “Thank you, Dolly. I think I can tame your brother.” There, she thought, the shrew has answered back. Her heart skipped a beat at the quirky smile on his lips. He’d caught her meaning. She picked at the rest of her dinner while listening to Dolly recount ghost stories he’d heard during his service in India. “They are much too bloody for me.” Edward remarked. “If there must be ghosts, I much prefer frail, ethereal creatures who drift through doors.” Glad to have dinner over, Catherine excused herself. “I’ll run up and see if Riena is still sleeping.” Richard nodded. “If she requires anything, let me know. I’ll be in my study.” He had asked her to meet him there…not asked really, more like he’d ordered her, and she could hardly refuse. What could he possibly want?
***** Stretching out the time before she had to meet him, she walked slowly upstairs to Riena’s room, opened the door quietly, and peeked in. The room was completely dark except for a shaft of light streaming in from a hallway lamp, and the only sound was Riena’s soft breathing. Catherine tiptoed over to the bed. Cuddled under a soft comforter, Riena slept soundly. As quietly as she had come, Catherine left her friend and made her way to Richard’s study. He loves you. Riena’s words made no sense. Then why could she not dismiss them? Why? Catherine reached the study, and opened the door. Richard set aside a journal he’d been reading, and stood to greet her. Then she knew why. And almost turned tail to run away. “Come in, Kate. Sit here where I can see you.” He motioned to a leather-covered chair near where he stood. Beside him, on a small table, were a silver coffee service and two cups and saucers. Holding herself together as best she could while her common sense fought a pitched battle inside her head, she knew it wasn’t true. It could not be true. 116
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Riena was wrong. Catherine sat with her hands folded on her lap, and stared at the carpet. He must not guess. Must never guess. “Kate? Are you all right? You’ve gone white as a sheet. Didn’t meet a ghost upstairs, did you?” He pulled a chair close to hers. A silent plea rose in her throat. Don’t let him touch me. I can’t bear it. “Kate, what is it? Has something disturbed you?” She could faint. But that would not do either. Then he’d gather her into his arms… “I feel a trifle warm. Perhaps if you opened the window, the fresh air would revive me.” He flung up the sash and a gust of wind blustered into the room. “Is that better?” The concern in his eyes mocked her. If he knew, he’d send her away, thinking she was a silly chit. She loved him. And she did not want to love him. “Are you feeling ill? Shall I send for Anna to assist you to your room?” Catherine leaned far back in her chair, distancing herself from him. “Thank you, I am fine now. What is it you wished to discuss with me?” He thrust his fingers through his dark hair. An unruly lock fell across his forehead. Impatiently, he pushed it back only to have it fall foreward again. Catherine had always intended to sketch him, not ill-humored as before, but with his hair tangled. His mouth… She gave it some thought. His mouth would be smiling that special smile, when he called her Kate. She’d draw one black eyebrow, definitely quirked, as though he planned to say something amusing to make her laugh. “Kate, you are staring into space. A penny for your thoughts.” “A penny?” She tensed. He was smiling. The Kate smile. Pressing her feet flat on the carpeted floor she remained seated and returned a remote kind of smile—her lips firm. “Surely my thoughts are worth more than a penny.” She wriggled her toes inside her shoes, a relaxation method taught by her governess when mathematics lessons proved difficult, and she could not think clearly. “What then? Name your price.” She shook her head. “My thoughts are not for sale.” “Very well, if you will be stubborn.” “I am not stubborn!” “Ha, I knew my Kate would rise to the bait.”
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Feeling as though she were sinking into quicksand, Catherine straightened her back. “Please do not call me your Kate. You may call me Kate, but not your Kate.” “But you are my Kate. My companion. I will call you whatever I choose. Kate. My Kate. My little shrew. Catherine when I am being very formal. Miss Thurston when you are behaving badly.” Obviously enjoying himself, he pushed back his chair, stretched out his legs, and crossed one foot over the other. Catherine breathed more easily. With a trifle more space between them, her wits returned. “Very well, you may call me whatever you please but why did you wish to speak to me?” “Oh that. I suppose we must be serious.” He rubbed his chin. “You are paid to be my companion until the end of May. I quite like having you as my companion. I shall miss having you to myself.” Catherine squeezed her eyes tight shut to stop any foolish tears. When she opened them, he seemed intent on studying the toes of his boots. Silence fell between them. A clock on the mantelpiece struck the half-hour. Catherine cleared her throat. “Until I was employed as your companion, I had never worked before. Not for money, I mean. I always worked around horses at our family home in Dorset.” Richard raised his eyes to hers. For endless seconds, she could not tear her gaze from him. Mired in quicksand, Catherine wrapped her arms around her chest to hold herself together. “I never expected to like you. Not after you…” What was she saying? “Not after I tried to frighten you into leaving.” He paused. “And now, Kate?” She wanted to run away. Not have to answer. With an effort, she managed a shaky smile. “Now, I quite like you. You are not the beast I thought you were at first.” “In that case, I will enjoy your company even more. For instance, I expect you to ride with me every morning, and possibly during the afternoon as well. In the evenings, I may ask you to meet with me here. You have a very pleasant voice, and I have a fancy to have you read to me. You never finished The Taming of The Shrew.” “But your eyes are back to normal, are they not?” Catherine frowned. “What happened to them? I thought once a person lost his sight, it never returned.” Richard stood, crossed to the window and closed it. He rested his head against the glass then turned to Catherine. “I served with the 11th Hussars in the Crimea as part of the Light Brigade. Under the command of Lord Lucan and Lord Cardigan, we were stupidly led into a narrow valley, where the heights bristled with Russian guns. Within twenty minutes, men and horses were slaughtered. A trooper riding alongside me had his head blown clean off his body. His blood spurted into my eyes, blinding me. The next thing I knew, cannon fire ripped into my leg, and tore into the neck of my horse and we went down.”
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He sank into his chair. “It took months for my eyes to heal. Shock, the doctors told me. By the time you came, they had improved.” Catherine could not stop herself going to him. She knelt beside his chair and rested her head on his arm. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you, I wish I could take back all the rude things I said.” “Take back nothing, Kate. You made me want to live again. You are my little shrew. Don’t ever change.” Tempted to draw her into his arms, he contented himself with breathing a soft kiss into her hair, and hoped she’d not feel it. How could he give up seeing her? Allow Dolly to take her away to the ends of the earth. He’d convince his brother he needed him on the estate. He’d expand the stables. Dolly knew horses. He’d send him to France and Spain to purchase brood stock. Kate would assist them. Her children would ride prize horses from the Glenmore stable. The clock struck the hour. Ten o’clock. Kate stood and looked down at him. “Unless you want me to read to you, I’ll say goodnight.” “Stay awhile longer, there’s something I wish to discuss with you.” Remembering the coffee, he poured two cups and handed one to her. She resumed her seat. How this beautiful girl came to be his companion never failed to astonish him. His mother had relied on their solicitor to choose an appropriate person and old Mr. Knightley had settled on Kate. Why her? He’d made discreet inquiries in London about Kate’s family. Her mother, Lady Jane Thurston was the only child of an impecunious earl who’d died when she was fourteen and his brother had inherited the title. She lived in reduced circumstances. Kate’s father had evidently lost his wits two years ago, and bankrupted himself at the gaming tables. “Well, Richard.” Kate’s smile tugged at his heart. He’d best finish what he had to say, and allow her to leave lest she read his thoughts. “I’m planning to expand our stables, and bring in brood stock from the continent. Dolly has an excellent eye when it comes to horses. He talked about going abroad, but I have need of him here to visit France and Spain. They breed excellent animals. I have a fancy to raise some prize Arabians as well. You’re a keen horsewoman. What do you think?” “I think it’s a splendid idea, but will Dolly agree? He seems to have his heart set on seeing in the world. I can’t blame him for wanting to seek adventure.” The tip of her pink tongue flicked along her lower lip. He imagined her tongue… He sucked in a deep breath. “Do you crave adventure, Kate?” He might as well know the worst. “Me?” His question surprised her. “I’ve thought about it.” “And where would you go adventuring?” Why did he not ask her straight out when she and Dolly planned to wed? She lowered her eyes. “Canada perhaps.”
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He did not want to know anything else. Not yet. Dolly did not plan to leave England until the end of summer. Perhaps by then, he’d have persuaded him to stay. Kate would live here. Forever. She set her coffee cup aside, and stood. “I forgot to ask if you managed to ease the servants’ concerns about Riena.” He braced his right leg on the floor, and rose to his feet. “I convinced them that any friend of yours was welcome in my home. However, since many of the maids seemed apprehensive, I told them Riena would be spending her time with you, and she expected to be on her way within a day or so. I hinted she might be a gypsy princess on the run from a wicked sorcerer.” “You didn’t!” “I thought a wicked sorcerer was much more interesting than an abusive husband.” Kate chuckled. “Makes it sound more like a fairy tale where nothing bad happens. I like that.” She paused in the doorway. “Goodnight, Richard, and thank you again for sheltering Riena.” A lamp in the hallway shone down on Kate. Her hair gleamed golden and his longing returned. The longing to lift the curls at her nape and kiss her. Desire stirred and his damned sex thickened. Disgusted with himself for lacking control, he shifted his unruly thoughts from Kate to the question of Riena. Calm returned. More or less. Heat still swirled deep in his gut. “I did insist they treat Riena well if they came across her during her stay. She was not to be snubbed nor insulted in any way. And I lied a little about how she was hurt. I said she had been cut and bruised trying to escape from a pack of dogs.” Kate frowned. “Why not tell them the truth, that her husband had beaten her?” “Because beating a wife is a fairly common practice among some country folk. I suspect a few of our servants would expect her to put up with it, and not come running to you.” “I’m glad she did. If any man laid a hand on me, he would live to regret it.” “That’s my Kate. God help me if that book I threw at you had actually found its mark, I might not have lived to tell the tale.” She dazzled him with a wicked smile. “Very true, my lord. Remember, in future dealings with your companion, she does have an excellent throwing arm.” “Miss Thurston, I am terrified.” “Goodnight, my lord. I think I have you properly tamed.” “Not quite, my little shrew. We will discuss this further.” The clock struck the quarter hour. “Goodnight Kate.”
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Chapter Fourteen Catherine slowly made her way upstairs. She looked in on Riena, who slept peacefully. In her own room, she got ready for bed, her thoughts on Richard. Betrayed by her heart into loving him, she didn’t know how to survive the summer months without giving away her secret. He had asked her to ride with him every day and spend the evening hours reading to him. She wished he would not call her my Kate, as if she belonged to him. As if she were special. He didn’t love her. How could he? Perhaps he cared enough to tell her what had happened to him in Crimea. When she had knelt beside his chair, and rested her head on his arm, he had kissed her. Not a real kiss. A soft kiss on her hair. Like as not he meant it as a grateful kiss for her comforting gesture. But it had taken all her willpower not to raise her head, and kiss him. A real kiss. On his mouth. A lover’s kiss. What was she thinking? Kiss Richard like that? Moistening her lips, she imagined how it would feel. Soft to start, then he’d hold her much closer. She’d slide her arms over his shoulders and smile at him. “Kiss me again,” she’d say. And he would. Again and again. Dismayed at her overwrought imagination, she undressed, and stared bewildered at her slightly swollen breasts, nipples boldly erect. And not just her breasts! Those strange sensations she’d felt before stirred in other parts of her body. What had she done? What wickedness had she conjured up just by thinking? She pulled her nightgown over her head to hide her shameful breasts, but the wretched nipples peaked through the fine cotton fabric. She’d have to bind them in the morning if they had not returned to normal lest they be visible under her dress. She would die of shame if anyone guessed the cause. No more thoughts about kissing! If he so much as guessed, she’d never be able to face him again as his Kate. It had to be Catherine or Miss Thurston when they were alone. She tossed and turned in bed. She heard his halting footsteps in the hallway, the tap, tap of his cane and his door closing. She’d avoid him as best she could until she had her treacherous thoughts firmly under control. With Riena to care for, there’d be little need to spend time with him except to discuss how best to protect her friend from her abusive husband.
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A sound wakened Catherine from a deep sleep. A rattling kind of sound. She lay still trying to identify it. It sounded like stones in a gourd. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Someone was outside. Shivering, she threw back the comforter, slid out of bed, and padded over to the open French doors. The sun, barely over the tree tops, shed pearly dawn light on the wet grass. On hands and knees, Catherine crept across the balcony and peered through the railings at the wide stretch of lawn, and hedge-bordered path leading to the raspberry patch and apple orchard. Blinking sleep from her eyes she waited. A shadow moved away from the hedge. A man stood there, a red kerchief knotted around his head. He raised his arms above his head. Sunlight glinted on something in his hands. Then the rattling began again. The strange rhythmic pattern sent chills coursing up and down her spine. Riena’s husband had come for her! Terrified, knowing she had to find someone to chase the man away she threw a robe over her shoulders, and dashed across the hall to Richard’s suite. If she knocked would he hear her? With the awful rattle still echoing in her ears, she opened the door into his sitting room. “Richard,” she called quietly. Nothing. She had to wake him. Hurrying across to his bedchamber door, she turned the handle, and opened it. “Richard, he’s here. He’s come for Riena.” A ray of sunlight beamed through the open window. He opened his eyes, and knew he was dreaming. Kate stood at the end of his bed. Had she come to him? Were his thoughts so powerful, he’d drawn her from her bed to his? “Richard, please dress quickly. I need you.” Dragging his wits from his dream, he sat up. “What is it?” “There’s a man outside, making a horrible rattling sound in a gourd. I think it’s Riena’s husband come for her. He’s by the hedge leading to the orchard.” Fully awake, he pulled the bell rope beside his bed. “You’re white as a sheet, Kate. Let me look after this. You’d best go and stay with Riena.” Pickens hurried into the room, and halted at the sight of Kate in her night attire. “Excuse me, milord, I thought you rang.” “Run along and wake my brother. Tell him to dress, and meet me downstairs. There’s a prowler on the grounds. Miss Thurston has seen him. He’s been making some fearful rattling noise. She’s come to me for help.” He added that last bit to save Kate’s reputation. Pickens might think she’d spent the night with him. “Very good, milord.” With a backward glance at Kate, he set off to rouse Dolly. “Thank you, Richard. I didn’t know what else to do but wake you.” Her gaze shifted from his face to his bare chest. “You’d best see to Riena.” Her presence in his bedchamber unnerved him. “Go, Kate, I cannot get out of bed with you standing there.”
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Her cheeks flamed. “I’ll see if the rattling wakened her.” Backing away from the bed, she bumped into the door and the robe slipped from her shoulders. Under the bodice of her nightgown, the round globes of her breasts nuzzled against the fabric, the nipples enticingly erect. Fully aroused and aching to make love to her, he drew a ragged breath. “Out, Kate, or your man will be gone before I’m up and dressed.” In a flurry of white, she scooped up her robe, and rushed from his bedchamber. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and plucked a shirt from the nearby clothes rack. With Kate gone and work to be done, desire to bed her cooled. He fitted on his leg, strapped it in place, and finished dressing. Cane in hand, he hurried downstairs. Dolly waited by the front door.
***** “Pickens says a prowler outside frightened Catherine. I’ve brought my pistol to chase the fellow off. What’s it about?” “She thinks it’s Riena’s husband. Seems the man was making some kind of rattling noise. It frightened Catherine. She came to me for help. She saw him by the hedge on the path to the orchard.” Pistol cocked and ready, Dolly strode ahead and waited for Richard by the hedge. “Look.” Dolly pointed to muddy footprints on the stone steps leading down to the orchard. “The fellow has cleared off. I’ll go after him.” “Wait. He’s left this.” A dead crow, wings outstretched, its legs broken, had been tied to the top of the hedge. Two beads, one red and one black, dangled from a string fastened tight around the bird’s neck. “Good God!” Dolly turned to Richard. “That’s a death threat if I ever saw one. Catherine’s friend is in danger.” “Aye, we’ll have to make arrangements for her safety. Take down that damned bird and bury it. I don’t want any of the gardeners to see it. I’ll go back, and speak to Kate.” Dolly uncocked the pistol, shoved it into his jacket pocket and quickly removed the crow. Grasping the beaded string around its neck, he dangled the bird from two fingers. “Kate? Is that what you call her? Then so shall I.” Richard frowned. “No, it’s just a bit of nonsense. She much prefers Catherine. Get rid of that thing before the gardeners are up and about. We’ll keep this to ourselves.” He started back to the house. He didn’t want Dolly calling her Kate. He’d have her to himself soon enough. Let him find his own pet name for her. Pickens waited for him at the front entrance. “Did you find anything, milord?” Richard shook his head. “Some muddy footprints. Probably a tramp wandered in off the road looking for a bit of thieving.” If word of the dead crow spread to the servants, they’d want Riena out of the house fearing her presence would bring bad luck.
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***** A worried frown creasing his brow, he made his way up to Kate’s room. He tapped at her door. “I have to speak with you.” She opened the door. Fully dressed, she hushed him with fingers to her lips. “Riena is sleeping. Did you find the man? Was it her husband?” “May I come in?” She nodded and closed the door. He strode past her to the French doors, shut them and slipped the bolt. “Lock them at night.” “What is it? Tell me.” “Dolly and I are sure the man you saw was Riena’s husband. He left a message for her.” “What kind of message?” Fear darkened Kate’s eyes. “You’re not to mention this to Riena. She has suffered enough. I think the rattling was for us to take notice, to warn us off. He spread-eagled a dead crow on the hedge. Its legs were broken. A string with one red bead and one black had been tied around its neck.” Kate’s hands flew to her throat. “What shall we do? He’s cast a spell. He’s going to kill her.” Thinking she might faint, he closed the gap between them and drew her into his arms. “Kate, he is not going to kill Riena. You are too sensible to believe he can harm her by casting a spell. She will remain indoors until it is safe for her to travel. Then we’ll make arrangements for her safety. You are not to worry.” Kate nestled into him. “What if he comes back again?” He rested his cheek on her head and stroked her back like a mother comforting a frightened child. But Kate was no child. Her breasts, warm against his chest, tempted him into danger. Tempted him into wanting to cradle them in his hands, and kiss them. He cleared his throat. “We’ll set the dogs loose tonight. Our men will patrol the grounds. He won’t show his face again. I promise you that.” Kate tipped her head back. “Thank you, I won’t tell Riena about the crow.” Kate’s mouth was so close. Her lips slightly parted. Richard halted his mothering caresses. He pressed his hand against the small of her back. The pink tip of her tongue slid along her bottom lip, wetting it. “I’d best return to my rooms.” He forced the words out through clenched teeth or he’d kiss her. Not once. Twice. Three times. Impossible to think of kissing her once and stopping. Once started on a downward spiral, he’d be damned in her eyes. His beloved companion would quit his employ on the spot. What right had he to kiss her? To dwell on kissing her? And what, for God’s sake, was she doing in his arms? She’d sought help from him, needed him to comfort her. He should have known better than embrace her.
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“Yes, you’d better go.” Her voice trembled. Was she afraid of him? He jammed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Let me know how Riena is. If she is up to it, I’d like her to meet with Mother, Edward, Dolly and me in the library at eleven o’clock. It’s time to arrange for her to journey safely to London.” Kate stood on tiptoe and kissed him. On his cheek. “I know everything is going to be all right with you and Dolly taking care of her.” With no plausible excuse for lingering, Richard raised her hand to his lips. “Good morning, Kate, I’m glad you came to me for help.” With a teasing smile, she swept into a deep curtsy, her hand still clasped in his. “You are my champion. I trust you to protect me.” He drew her up. An eternity passed while he gazed into her eyes. “I will always protect you.” She slipped her hand from his. “Thank you, I know I am safe with you.” He stepped back a pace. Safe with him? Only if he kept his hands to himself. Kept his distance from her and behaved like a gentleman. Being physically close to Kate pushed his control to the limit. “I will see you and Riena in the library.” Turning on his heel, he strode from the room and closed the door. Catherine wished he’d return and stay with her. To hold her in his arms. To feel his hand on the small of her back, pressing her close against his body. Being in his arms had felt so wonderful. The magic of resting her head on his chest. Listening to his heart beat. She’d wanted him to kiss her, not once, but many times.
***** Catherine straightened her back. Whatever was wrong with her? All she seemed to think about was kissing. If he touched her hand or stood close beside her, she immediately imagined kissing him. That would not do! These ridiculous imaginings had to stop. Richard had come to protect and comfort her, that was all, and to repeat his promise to keep Riena safe. She had better go and see if her friend still slept. She tapped on Riena’s door and entered. Riena sat up in bed wide-awake. Her eyes gleamed dark and mysterious in her bruised face. “He has come for me.” Catherine rushed over to the bed, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “You are safe. He will not harm you.” “He is evil. He is nearby. I can feel him, waiting for me.” She shivered and huddled into Catherine. “When? When did he come? What do you know?” “Riena, I heard a strange noise early this morning. When I looked out the window I saw a man lurking outside so I went to Lord Glenmore for help. He and his brother chased the man off. Tonight the dogs will be loose and men patrolling the grounds with them. If it was your husband, he won’t get close to the house.”
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“Tell me the truth. Did he leave anything?” “Anything? What sort of thing?” Catherine’s voice quavered. Lying did not come easily to her. Riena jumped out of bed and faced Catherine. “I must know! Don’t you understand? I must know what spell he is casting.” “You surely don’t believe a spell can harm you.” “You Gadji! You…” Riena lowered her voice to a hoarse whisper. “If you love me and want me safe, you must tell me what he left behind.” Catherine released the breath she’d been holding. “I promised Lord Glenmore not to tell you.” “Tell me!” Riena grasped Catherine’s wrist. “A dead crow, its wings spread out, its legs broken and a string around its neck.” “And on the string?” Riena’s dark eyes pierced Catherine’s. “Two beads. One red. One black.” Riena sank to the floor. “Now I know what to do.” Catherine sat beside her. “Aren’t you frightened? Lord Glenmore did not want me to tell you.” Riena shook her head. “No, I am not frightened. He cannot harm me now that I know the spell he’s cast.” Rising to her feet, she gazed down at Catherine. “Bring my crystal and money belt.” Heart thudding, Catherine scrambled up. “You’re not leaving! I will not let you go. I’ll call Lord Glenmore. He’ll not allow it. You are not fit to travel.” Riena rested her hands on Catherine’s shoulders. “I need my crystal and my money belt for what I have to do. I must be alone for awhile. Do not come for me. I must not be interrupted.” Catherine shivered and backed away from her friend. “What are you going to do?” She wanted to know and didn’t want to know. Not if it involved black magic or calling on spirits or conjuring up the Prince of Darkness. Riena smiled. “You are Gadji. You’d not understand.” “You’ll not consort with Satan and bring evil to this house.” Catherine refused to budge until Riena convinced her everyone at Glenmore Manor would be safe from harm. “Do not fret, Catherine. It is not in my nature to do evil. Satan is your Christian creation. He has nothing to do with me.” “Very well, I’ll fetch your things.” When Catherine returned, Riena had taken a sheet from the bed and spread it on the floor. She sat, cross-legged, in the center.
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“Open the box. Place the crystal in front of me.” Catherine, her fingers trembling, raised the lid, and lifted out the crystal. Down on her knees like a supplicant, she arranged the globe on the sheet. “The stand is in the box. Give it to me.” Riena’s voice sounded strange to Catherine. Not like her ordinary voice. More high-pitched. “The money belt, please.” Catherine gave it to her. From a little pouch worked into the belt, she spilled a few grains of white powder into her left hand. “Leave me now. Lock the door so no one can enter. I must not be disturbed. Slide the key under the door. I will come to you when I am ready.” “By eleven o’clock?” Catherine squeaked, her throat tight. “Lord Glenmore wishes to meet with us at that time.” But Riena, bent over the crystal, did not answer. Afraid of disturbing her, Catherine locked the door from the outside and shoved the key under it. A sound from behind it sent her heart racing. A faint high-pitched chant coming from Riena. Half expecting to see a spirit floating toward her, she swung around to find Richard, one elbow propped against the wall by his suite, observing her.
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Chapter Fifteen “What are you doing, Kate?” “Doing?” She echoed. “Doing.” He sauntered up to her. Catherine smoothed her skirt. “I was locking Riena’s door.” He raised his brows. “And?” “Do stop questioning me. I locked her door and shoved the key back in so she’d not be disturbed until…” Catherine pressed her lips together. What should she tell him? “Until she felt ready to meet with your family.” There, that would do. “Kate, you seem nervous. Is there something I should know about Riena that you’ve not told me?” “Promise not to turn her out when I tell you.” Catherine hoped he’d understand. He linked her arm through his. “I promise. Come, we’ll talk in my suite.” Anna bustled from Catherine’s room. “I’ve just set out your breakfast, Miss. How is your friend?” Her glance shifted away from Catherine and darted down the hallway to Riena’s bedchamber. “She is much improved, Anna. She hopes to be on her way within a day or so.” Anna curtsied. “I’m pleased to hear it. Good morning, my lord.” She nodded and hurried away. Catherine freed her arm. “May I have my breakfast before I meet with you?” Richard grinned at her. “Don’t be too long, I’m interested in learning more about your friend.” “If Riena joins me for breakfast, shall I bring her with me?” “No, I’d prefer speaking with you alone.” “Very well, I’ll be as quick as I can.” She closed her bedchamber door, walked slowly to the table and sat down. She poured a cup of tea, and watched the steam rising before adding milk, and two lumps of sugar. She did not want to meet him in his sitting room. Officially, she was still his companion, but everything had changed between them. Falling in love with him had turned their relationship upside down, at least for her. Well brought up young ladies did not dally with gentlemen in their private rooms. She had even been in his bedchamber, had seen his naked chest. When she had a private moment she’d sketch him. His black hair tousled from sleep. His eyes questioning hers. His mouth? Inviting. 128
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Naked to the waist, his shoulders bare, and his chest had fascinated her. Even in her panicky state, she’d noticed his body. The muscle structure. The fine dark hair. His nipples. Her fingers itched to explore him. To smooth her hands over his shoulders and chest, to touch his nipples, to… Catherine caught her breath trying to stop what was happening. Warmth, like a sinful snake, coiled up from deep in her body, swelling her breasts and peaking her nipples. “No!” She spoke aloud. “Stop this minute or I shall…” “Shall what, Catherine?” Riena poked her head around the door, and entered. Sure her face would give away her guilty secrets, Catherine picked up her napkin, and made a great show of wiping her mouth. She forced a smile and conjured up a lie. “I had to stop myself from eating your breakfast as well as mine. Come sit down. I’ll pour some tea. Under the silver cover you’ll find bacon, sausages and eggs. Are you hungry? I am. So much excitement in one morning has given me an appetite. I met Lord Glenmore when I left your room. He asked to speak to me. I’ll have to tell him about the crystal ball and the spell and your fortune telling and…” “Catherine, do stop long enough to breathe. Your face is flushed. Are you feverish?” Riena propped her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands and studied Catherine. “Or are you in love?” “In love?” Catherine croaked. “Of course I’m not in love. My tea was too hot, that’s all. It nearly burned my tongue. Now eat up before everything is cold.” Riena lifted the silver cover and helped herself to sausages and eggs. “Tell me about Lord Glenmore.” “About Lord Glenmore?” Catherine did not want to talk about him. Just saying his name in front of her perceptive friend made her uncomfortable. “You must know him very well since you are his companion.” “He was wounded in the war. Part of his left leg had to be amputated. His eyes also suffered, but they have recovered. He is very pleasant.” “Is that all? Do you not think him handsome? He could almost pass for a Romany.” Catherine speared a sausage, cut it into four pieces and ate two before answering. “Yes, he is handsome, but I take little notice of his looks.” The lie tripped off her tongue. Riena chuckled. “I mind when we first met. You and Johnny threatened to hand me over to the gamekeeper, but I knew you would do no such thing. Catherine, there is no guile in you. It is impossible for you to hide your feelings. Your eyes give you away. You are well aware of Lord Glenmore.” “All right. I think he and his brother are very handsome. However, I prefer not to dwell on Lord Glenmore. I am employed as his companion, nothing more. It’s not my place to comment on his features.” Close to choking on a piece of sausage, she cleared her throat and changed the conversation to something less personal.
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“Your bruises are fading. I’ll apply more of Lady Glenmore’s ointments as soon as you finish breakfast.” “You have not told me why you are here. Why are you paid to attend Lord Glenmore? You are not a poor girl. I well remember the size of your family estate. Was there nothing left after your father’s death? How is it you do not have a husband? You are beautiful enough to attract men unless they are all blind.” Thankful for the change of topic, Catherine relaxed. “All the young men I know are looking for wealthy brides. Without a dowry, I had nothing to offer. As for how I came here. I answered an advertisement in the Times to be a companion. I thought I would be attending a young lady. I was mistaken. It was to be a companion to Lord Glenmore. He did not want me and did his best to drive me away. But he has mellowed. We’ve become friends.” “More than that, Catherine, you and Lord Glenmore are more than friends. You are lovers.” Catherine jumped to her feet, bumped the table and fell back into her chair. “Do not say those words! I will not listen to such nonsense. You are mistaken. Why…why Lord Glenmore would be horrified to know you spoke of him in that way. He is a perfect gentleman, betrothed to a fine young lady. I expect she will be attending the party he and his mother are planning to welcome Dolly, I mean Captain Delisle, home.” Riena’s dark eyes sparkled in the sunlight beaming through the French doors. “I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you but sometime in the future, remember what I’ve said.” Suddenly she tilted her head on one side as though listening. “What is it? Do you hear something?” Riena rose slowly to her feet, walked to the French doors and opened them. “Come here.” As though drawn by the force of Riena’s words, Catherine followed her. “Look.” She pointed to a crow circling over the place where Catherine had seen the man. Determined not to see anything significant in the crow, Catherine stepped out on the balcony. “It’s only a crow. Hundreds live in the countryside. I see them all the time.” “You are wrong. She’ll be the mate of the one he killed. Come to seek vengeance.” “Vengeance?” Catherine’s blood ran cold, and she struggled to steady her voice. “He’ll not have a moment’s peace until the day he dies.” “How can a crow frighten him?” Riena joined Catherine on the balcony. “He will see her every day. She’ll sit atop his caravan while he sleeps. He’ll hear her claws scratching on the wood, and her raucous voice when he wakes in the morning.” “But Riena…”
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She hushed Catherine. “There is much you do not know. I am no longer in any danger from my husband. Think no more of him.” She rested her arm across Catherine’s shoulders. “Come, the tea will still be hot and I am thirsty.” As though it was the most natural thing in the world to believe in vengeful crows, Catherine returned to the table with Riena. She poured tea into their cups. “May I inform Lord Glenmore about the crow?” Riena shrugged. “If you like. I doubt he’ll believe you. Men find such things difficult.” Catherine nodded, wondering all the while if a very ordinary crow just happened to be out there going about its daily activities, and Riena had heard it cawing. She didn’t like to doubt her friend. During her childhood, she had heard stories about Romany curses and spells. Spells to make a cow’s milk dry up. To stop chickens laying. Or a spell to make a barren wife pregnant with the passing of a silver coin across a gypsy’s hand. How enigmatic Riena had become. Even in Catherine’s blue dress, she had the appearance of a mysterious stranger from some distant land—no longer the poor wounded creature who had sought Catherine’s help. A restful night’s sleep had restored her olive-skinned beauty. Catherine glanced at the clock on her mantel. “I’ll leave you for a few minutes and speak with Lord Glenmore.” Across from her room, she found his door open. He sat at his desk, writing. “May I come in? You asked to speak with me.” Richard laid his pen aside. Kate. His Kate. She stood there, waiting for him to invite her in. This is how he would always remember her. This is how he would like to have her portrait painted. Standing in the doorway. She’d be wearing her blue dress with sunlight streaming through the window, turning her hair to gold, a faint look of apprehension on her face. Dear Kate. From the first time she’d stepped into his room, she’d not backed down an inch. Without his determined companion, he might still be hiding from life. Instead he was deeply in love with her. For all his honest resolve never to touch her, to keep a decent physical distance away from temptation, he knew his was a lost cause the minute he was in her presence. Kate was so touchable. Her lips so inviting. He stood, came around his desk and taking her hand, led her over to the window seat. “You look very pretty sitting there. The sun makes your hair shine.” Against his better judgment, he sat beside her. She smoothed her skirt, and glanced out the window. “Thank you. It is lovely and fresh outside after the rain.” “You haven’t left the house, have you? I want you and Riena to remain indoors until we apprehend that fellow. He’s a dangerous man.” “I’ve been on the balcony with Riena watching a crow.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “I have something to tell you.” 131
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Richard stopped himself from smoothing the frown furrowing her brow. “What is it, Kate? What is troubling you?” “You asked about Riena. She is… I don’t know where to start.” “Start now. Tell me what you were doing on the balcony watching a crow.” Her eyes widened. “How did you know that was important?” “I can read your face.” “You can?” She lowered her gaze. “Kate, look at me. What is wrong? You must tell me.” She slowly turned to face him. “Much better. I like to see your eyes when you speak to me.” And forgetting every resolve he’d made regarding her, he stroked his fingers over the soft skin of her cheek. His thumb slid down and grazed her throat. She drew back. “I do not think you should do that.” Her voice quavered. “I’m sorry. It’s just…” He cursed his weak will. He’d frightened her. “It won’t happen again. Tell me about the crow.” She shifted as far away from him as possible and averted her eyes. At the end of her bizarre tale about the crow, Riena’s crystal globe, her gypsy calling as a fortune-teller, Richard did not know whether to laugh or take it all seriously, but Kate’s solemn face warned him against teasing her. “If Riena truly believes she has the power to make a crow seek vengeance, and her life is no longer in danger, then so be it, but I’ll rely on myself and Dolly to keep her safe.” “Thank you. Do you think your family has to know about the crow and the fortunetelling?” “Not at all but I will inform Dolly. He’ll take this in stride. I rather fancy he sees himself rescuing Riena, and seeing her safe on board ship.” Kate stood. “I do love him. He’ll see no harm comes to her. When I first met him, and he told me to call him Dolly, I nearly laughed out loud. Only a man as big and strong as he is could cope with such a name. How did it start?” It was unbearable to look at Kate when she talked about Dolly. Her beautiful eyes shone with love of him. Richard gazed out the window. “I was not yet two years old when he was born. Randall was hard for me to say. I insisted on calling him, ‘Dall, Dall.’ Then I changed that to Dolly. The name stuck, and God help any lad who dared laugh at him.” “You and Dolly must have been a wicked pair. From what your mother told me, Dolly brought frogs and snakes into the house, terrorizing the staff. Were you part of that?” “Not frogs and snakes. Spiders. Big ones. Poor Edward. He all but fainted when I put one on his lap, and it crawled up his sleeve.”
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Kate wrapped her arms around her waist. “Just talking about spiders gives me the shivers. I’ll go back to Riena. It’s nearly time to meet with your family.” Richard walked her across the hall to her room. “I regret touching you the way I did. I hoped to comfort you. I meant no harm.” Kate’s beautiful eyes searched his. “You have become a dear friend. It comforts me to know I can come to you and not be treated lightly as if my worries are of no account.” His arms ached to hold her. To enfold her against his chest and keep her safe from all harm. His love for Kate was impossible. It would be Dolly’s role in life to protect her. His brother would rescue her from the humiliation of going about the countryside seeking employment as a companion. He bowed over her hand. “I expect you and Riena in the library within five or ten minutes.” Kate hesitated. “I think it best if we no longer meet in your sitting room. I would prefer your study.” “Perhaps you are right.” His sitting room had too many memories for him. Memories of their first meetings when he’d fallen in love with her. He’d stepped over the bounds of propriety by touching her. If she had an inkling of the urges stirring his loins, she’d pack up and leave. Better they meet in the study, leaving the door open. Less chance of falling into temptation with servants passing by, going about their duties. Before joining the others downstairs, he returned to his desk and picked up his pen to continue the letter he’d been writing to his solicitor when Kate interrupted him. From inquiries he’d made in London, Kate and her mother had very little in the way of funds. Their country home had been leased. The London house was badly in need of repairs. He intended to settle a substantial dowry on Kate at the end of her three months’ employment as his companion. Knowing his Kate, she’d not take kindly to his gift, but her mother might be persuaded to convince her to accept. Lady Jane Thurston did not approve of Kate taking paid employment. She wanted her only daughter to return to society in style. As Dolly’s wife, she would do just that. He finished the letter, folded and sealed it in an envelope. Kate would be well taken care of. The next order of business was to plan how to protect Riena on her journey to London and see her safely on board ship.
***** “Excuse me, Riena. I must tidy my hair before we meet with the family.” Catherine hurried into the bathroom and closed the door. Panic fluttered in her throat. She could still feel the touch of his hand on her cheek. His thumb tracing down
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her throat. She loosened the collar of her dress, rinsed out a cloth in cold water and pressed it against the back of her neck. He should not have touched her like that. Her knees weak, she sat on the side of the bathtub to compose herself before facing Riena. She’d guess within seconds something was wrong—probably had done so already. Her friend’s lustrous dark eyes missed nothing. What if she pretended to be ill? Catherine stood and peered in the mirror hanging over the washbasin. Ill? She did not look the least bit unwell, a little feverish perhaps. Her cheeks flushed pink, her eyes brilliant and her heart playing tricks, she might pass as someone coming down with…with love sickness! Impossible! She was much too sensible to be lovesick. A stomach upset, perhaps, from the sausages she’d eaten at breakfast. Catherine filled the basin with cold water. She held her breath and immersed her face. “Love sickness indeed.” She bubbled the words under the water, pulled out the plug and drained them away. Cooler now, she toweled dry, tidied her damp curls, buttoned up her collar, and prepared to meet Riena. She opened the door and strolled into the bedroom. Very casually, like someone without a care in the world and nothing to hide. “Are you all right, Catherine?” Riena asked. “I’m fine. I felt a little warm, and bathed my face. Are you ready to meet the Glenmore family?” “Of course. Is there anything I should know about how to greet them? This is all new to me.” Only too happy to veer the conversation to safer topics, Catherine ticked off what Riena should do. “Greet Lady Glenmore first with a curtsy if you like. Practice with me.” By the time Catherine had Riena doing a perfect curtsy, her friend was laughing so hard, tears streamed down her cheeks. “That is very good. You curtsy to ladies and nod gracefully to men when you meet them. Lord Glenmore is the next person you greet, then his brother, Captain Delisle and their uncle, The Honorable Edward. You met Lord Glenmore and his brother last night. Do you remember?” Riena nodded. “Lord Glenmore loves you. That I remember.” “Please do not say that. It is not true. He is a man of honor. He is betrothed. His fiancée will be coming here next week to attend a homecoming party for Dolly, Captain Delisle.” Riena clasped Catherine’s hands. “You are destined to live in this house. To marry…” “No. What you are saying is impossible. He loves another. She will be Lady Glenmore.”
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Riena’s gypsy eyes, wise and knowing, sparkled. Her lips curved in a winning smile. “When you and Lord Glenmore marry and you give birth to your first child, name her after me.” Catherine felt really ill now. Was Riena mad? A sorcerer? Someone to fear? First she’d said Richard loved her. Now she cast farther into the future and spoke of Catherine giving birth to his child—a girl to be named Riena. Lightheaded, thinking she might faint, Catherine heard the mantel clock strike eleven. Until she came to Glenmore Manor, she had never fainted. Now it seemed a useful ploy to avoid unpleasantness. The last chime died away and with it, her cowardly desire to evade her responsibilities to Riena. Plans had to be made for her safety. “Come along. It’s time you met the family.” Taking Riena by the arm, Catherine hustled her along the hall, past the armored knight, around the next corner, down the stairs, across the entry hall and halted abruptly at the library door. She faced Riena. “Promise to say nothing about me and Lord Glenmore or I will die of shame.” “I promise. I don’t want you dying before you name your baby girl after me.” Cheeks flaming, heart thudding against her ribs, Catherine opened the door, and ushered Riena in to meet the family. Lady Glenmore beckoned them over to her. “You look much better this morning, Mrs. Stanley. Did you sleep well?” To her credit, Riena curtsied. “I slept very well. Thank you for your ointments. My bruises are fading.” Catherine introduced her to Richard, Dolly and Edward. He motioned to the chair next to his. “Come sit by me, Mrs. Stanley. Apart from our Catherine, you are quite the loveliest young lady to enter this house in years.” Dear Edward, Catherine thought. He could charm the birds from the trees and have them eating out of his hand in a trice. Riena seated herself. Catherine found a place next to Dolly on the sofa. Richard drew up a chair beside his mother, directly across from Catherine. Intensely aware of him, fearful he might read something in her face, she turned to Dolly. “Richard tells me you are willing to escort Riena to London.” “Indeed I am. I’ll see her safely to the ship.” Richard interrupted. “Mrs. Stanley, when do you think you’ll be fit to travel? We must make plans for your journey after you leave our home. Where, for instance, will you stay in London? What will you require in the way of money and female garments? Catherine tells me you are taking ship to Canada. I think warm clothing will be essential once you are on the high seas. It’s a long voyage, and could be hazardous.” “I hope to be on my way tomorrow, my lord. In London, there are modest hotels suitable for a young lady on her own. I learned this from a Gadji, pardon, from a girl I worked beside at the hop picking last year. She gave me two addresses. Money is not a
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difficulty. I have been saving against the day I could leave my husband. My plan is to purchase suitable garments for the journey in London.” She paused. “The church authorities supervising the bride ship would not allow me to board if they knew I was Romany.” “Bride ship?” Lady Glenmore leaned forward in her chair. “But you are married, are you not? Surely you do not intend to wed another.” Riena shook her head. “No, my lady. I want to start a new life in Canada. Many of the young women go out to Victoria to become servants, others hope to find husbands.” Catherine held her breath hoping Riena would not tell them about the vengeance she had wreaked on her husband. Dolly interrupted. “Do you expect to become a servant?” Riena’s eyes widened. “Indeed not. Once on Canadian soil I intend to make my own way. I will open a small shop and sell trinkets, ribbons and the like to the women. I expect my fortune-telling skills will be in great demand.” Catherine winced. Now the blow would fall. The Glenmore family might want their strange guest to leave immediately. Silence descended. Everyone gazed at Riena. Dolly stood, walked to the fireplace and propped his elbow on the mantel. Watching him, Catherine thought him enchanted by her friend. There was something about the way he looked at her. “I never thought for a minute you were cut out to be a servant, Mrs. Stanley. It takes courage to start a new life on your own. Perhaps we shall meet in Canada.” “That is all very well, Dolly.” His mother spoke sharply. “In the meantime, we must put together a suitable wardrobe for Catherine’s friend. She’ll not be safe traveling in Romany clothing. Her husband may be looking for her.” Catherine sensed trouble brewing. “Riena can have other items of my clothing. The dress she is wearing fits her nicely. My coat and bonnet will do as well. I will ask my mother to send me replacement garments.” Richard decided it was time to take charge. From what he had seen Kate wearing, she did not have an extensive wardrobe. “Thank you for your generous offer but we will find ways and means to outfit Mrs. Stanley.” He smiled at his mother. “There are chests of clothing stored in the box rooms. If Catherine agrees, she and I will search through them for suitable dresses. We’ll have Mrs. Stanley turned out in fine fashion, appropriate for a demure young lady sailing on a bride ship.” Riena raised her hand. “Please call me Riena, not Mrs. Stanley. It is a custom of your society not mine. I prefer to be Riena.” She nodded at Richard. “Thank you, Lord Glenmore. I will never forget you or your family for your kindness. As for Catherine, she is especially dear to my heart. I knew I could come to her and find a safe haven. Your home is blessed with good fortune by her presence.”
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Amen to that, Richard silently agreed. “We have much to do, Riena, if you are to leave on the morrow. If your husband is watching the railway station at Abbeyleigh, you will leave here dressed as a young lady, in mourning perhaps, with a black bonnet and a veil covering your face.” Dolly rubbed his hands together. “And I shall be her escort, caring for the poor grieving lady. I shall protect her from unwanted attention.” Edward patted Riena’s hand. “It’s like a masquerade, pretending to be someone you are not.” Riena chuckled. “I’ve no notion of a masquerade, but I do know how to pretend. I used to pretend I was Catherine when we were children. I practiced speaking like her. It stood me in good stead at the hop picking. Some of the girls thought I wasn’t a real Romany because of the way I spoke.”
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Chapter Sixteen Richard could not keep his eyes off Kate. She smiled fondly at her friend. “I’ll teach Riena our ways while she’s here so she’ll not feel out of place on the ship.” “Then everything is settled. Riena leaves tomorrow.” His mother tapped her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Would it not be better for Edward to escort her to London?” Her question surprised Richard. Edward still had a touch of gout. He’d not be comfortable traipsing on and off trains, finding his way through crowds and hailing hackney cabs. What is more, he’d be no match for Riena’s husband should he appear. “I think not, Mother. Dolly is a much better escort. He can cope with any emergencies.” “Indeed, I’m looking forward to the journey. While in London, I’ll make inquiries about ships sailing to Canada.” Dolly returned to his seat beside Kate. “Perhaps you’d like to come along with me to send Riena on her way.” That his brother would suggest such a thing set Richard’s teeth on edge. After seeing Riena embark, Kate and Dolly would be alone on the return journey from London to Abbeyleigh. What was he thinking? Their mother would never approve. Kate’s mother would never approve if she knew of such a plan. It was safe to escort Riena on her own because she was in danger. But not Kate. Not his Kate. She had no chaperone. “Catherine remains at home, Dolly. She has promised to ride with me, and assist with planning the decorations for your party.” His mother sighed and rose to her feet. “Very well, Richard. You know what’s best. There are chests of clothing in the box room in the north wing. Find a suitable valise or small trunk for Riena.” With a curt nod, she left. “Come with me, Riena, I’ll see you back to my room or you’ll be lost.” Kate linked her arm through her friend’s. “Where shall I meet you, Richard?” “At the top of the staircase.” He watched while they walked across the entrance hall. A maid, feathery dusting brush in her hand, hurried from the dining room. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Riena. “Oh!” She squealed, crossed herself, dropped the brush, scurried back into the room and peeked around the side of the door. “It is all right, Millie. Our guest will not harm you. Would you care to meet her?” Kate and Riena paused at the foot of the staircase. “Thank you, milord, but I’d just as soon not. I’ve me dusting to do.” She grabbed the duster, cast a quick look over her shoulder and disappeared into the dining room. “She fears I am a witch, Lord Glenmore. I will stay out of sight until tomorrow.” 138
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“Perhaps that is for the best. Catherine will choose what you require.” He glanced at the grandfather clock standing like a well turned out soldier in the alcove next to the library. “I’ll meet you in five minutes, Catherine.” Richard returned to the library. “Dolly, I thought your suggestion to have Catherine accompany you to London with Riena very unwise.” Did he sound like a grouchy old codger chastising a misbehaving youth? His brother stretched out his legs, and leaned back on the sofa. “Unwise? How unwise? I thought Catherine would enjoy seeing Riena embark on the bride ship.” “Unwise for you and Catherine to travel together without a chaperone.” Dolly hooted. “Did you think I’d run off with her? I’d not given it a thought, but now you’ve put the idea into my head, I might speak to her. It was you who said she could not accompany Riena and me. Catherine never said a word.” More sure than ever that Dolly and Kate had a tacit agreement to wed, Richard forced a smile. “All the same, her reputation would be compromised if you two traveled alone. Better she remain here until you return.” Unable to bear the self-satisfied look on his brother’s face, Richard turned on his heel and strode from the library into the marble-floored hall. Kate gazed down at him from the top of the staircase dreamily beautiful in her simple gray dress. He put aside the pain in his heart. His anger at Dolly for daring to love Kate was ridiculous. Who could not love her? “Riena is resting. The meeting with your family tired her and seeing how fearful the maid was of her presence did not help.” He joined Kate. “Millie is a country girl. She likely has her head full of superstitions about gypsies. Riena will be the talk of Abbeyleigh, and every hamlet within miles once she leaves us.” He grinned at Kate. “When they see how we shall dress her tomorrow and Dolly assisting her into the carriage, there’ll be no stopping the stories told around the cottage hearths.” Kate’s blue eyes danced. “I can hardly wait to open the chests, and choose clothing for her.” Richard slipped her arm through his and walked her through the north wing off the house to the box room at the far end. “This part of the house is seldom used. We’d need a family of ten or more children with nurses and governesses and maids to bring this wing back to life.” “Children?” Kate said in a quivery voice. “Do you plan to have ten children?” He pushed open the door to the box room. “Not I. That will be up to Dolly. Don’t you agree he’d make a fine husband and father?” “He’d be the very best. I imagine him playing games with his sons and treating his daughters like little princesses.” Kate with ten children? Why had he come out with such a foolish number? Four perhaps. Not ten. He’d speak to Dolly about how to prevent too many pregnancies.
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He’d not want his Kate big with child year after year. He crossed the room and swept aside a green velvet drapery covering a large window. Sunlight streamed in. Dust motes danced in the air. Kate. Big with child. His child. Had he lost his wits? He swung around to find her staring at him her eyes wide and hoped she could not read his mind. Loosening his shirt collar, he cleared his throat. “Dust makes me cough.” He coughed to prove his point. “Which chest shall we start with?” Kate asked. “You open that one by the window first. I’ll start the other side of the room.” Damned if he was going to work next to her while his thoughts dwelt on making love, giving her his child to suckle at her breast. Her full, creamy white breasts with her nipples ready for a hungry little mouth. Fully aroused, he stalked across the room and opened the chest. Bent over to ease the ache in his groin, he rifled through the neatly folded clothing, old beaded gowns belonging to his mother mostly. Gradually the ache subsided. “There’s nothing here.” He called out. “Have you found anything suitable?” “Widow’s weeds. Perhaps your mother wore them after your father died. Come and look at them. They are very elegant. Do you think she’d mind Riena having them?” Richard breathed in a lung full of dust-laden air and promptly coughed. And coughed. Kate rushed over to him. “Are you all right?” He wheezed and pointed to the window. “Open it.” Staggering like a drunk, he followed her. Kate threw up the sash. He knelt beside the window gasping for breath. He propped his elbows on the ledge and inhaled huge gulps of fresh air into his beleaguered lungs. Kate slid down beside him, and put her arms around his waist. “Sit with me until you feel better.” He stretched out beside her, closed his eyes, and rested his head on her lap. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal. Kate leaned over him, her breasts all but touching his face. “I think you should lie quietly for awhile. I’ll ease you down on the floor, and fetch some water for you to drink.” He opened his eyes to find her smiling at him. “Don’t move. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” The last thing he wanted was to leave the comfort of her lap. The warmth of her body through her dress. The soft contours of her breasts swelling just above his head. Kate laid a cool hand on his brow. “I will finish going through the chests when you’ve rested.” He snuggled deeper into the nest between her thighs. “I’ll be fine. I breathed a lung full of dust that’s all. We’ll keep working.” “You gave me such a fright. I thought you… I was afraid you might die.” 140
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“Would that bother you?” He raised his head a notch to see her better. “Of course it would. I’ve become fond of you.” She leaned over and kissed him. On the lips. “Don’t Kate,” he murmured. “Don’t.” Desire still smoldered deep in his gut, and threatened to burst into flame. He’d make a bed from linens stored in the chests. They’d make love. She’d be his Kate. She’d know his body. Take him deep inside her. He rolled sideways off her lap. One friendly little kiss from his companion, and he was close to taking her. Too close. Whether she wanted him or not. Kate’s gentle heart embraced everyone. His wheezing cough had frightened her. She’d taken him into her arms to comfort him. Still shaken from his reaction to her kiss, he clambered to his feet, his awkward left leg not as nimble as his right. “Come. Let’s finish going through the chests.” He reached down and grasped Kate’s hands. Drawing her close, he gazed into her eyes. “I am fond of you, Kate. I want you to always think of Glenmore Manor as your home.” With his willpower stretched to the limit, he released her. Kate remained standing in front of him, still as a statue. Her eyes searched his. “I hope you did not mind me kissing you. You seemed upset afterwards. I meant no harm. It just happened.” Richard cupped her chin in his hands and grinned. “Being kissed by my companion when I am near choking to death pleases me.” Throwing caution to the winds, he drifted a light kiss across her lips. “There, now we are even.” Kate threw her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I answered that advertisement in the Times. You and your family have become part of my life. I shall miss you when I leave at the end of summer.” She stepped away from him. “We’d better get back to work or Riena will wonder what has happened to me.” Richard knew what had happened to him. Already in love with her, he’d come close to forcing his attentions on his Kate. She’d have hated him. Gone running to Dolly for protection and God knows what his brother might have done. He had no wish to take on Dolly in hand-to-hand combat. They’d been a good match at one time, but with a poor substitute limb attached to his left leg and still recovering from battle scars, he knew that leaving Kate strictly alone was much safer than antagonizing Dolly. Kate struck gold in one chest. “Look at this. Two simple day dresses. One is brown wool, perfect for keeping her warm on board ship. There’s a brown coat to go with it and a lovely shawl.” She draped the shawl over her shoulders and pirouetted in front of him. “Isn’t it grand?” The green silk shawl, shot with gold thread, whirled with her. “Grand it is and suits you perfectly. Perhaps you should keep it.” “Me?” Kate’s eyes widened. “But it belongs to your mother. She might not want me to have it.”
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“I want you to have it. Mother will have no objection. Now let’s find something less flamboyant for Riena. Here, this will do.” He drew a dark red woolen shawl from a chest and handed it to Kate. “Perfect. I think we have everything.” Kate shut the window and drew the curtains aside carefully to avoid shaking out the dust. “I don’t want you choking again.” She folded Riena’s clothing and started out of the room. “Oh look at this, Richard.” On a hatrack off to one side, she lifted off a widebrimmed, black straw hat with a fine black veil thrown over it. “Riena will be well disguised under this.” Like a child playing dressing up, Kate settled the hat on her head with the veil hiding her face. “What do you think?” What did he think? He thought her a most beautiful widow. Playing the game, he knelt at her feet. “You are enchanting, my dear lady. Is your husband long dead? I desire to pay my respects.” “He has been dead these many months, and you are a devilishly handsome rogue. Have you come to court me?” She swept back the veil. Richard grasped her hands and kissed them. Rose to his feet and kissed her. A long, delicious kiss on her slightly parted lips. “You are a grieving widow in need of comfort. I am at your service, madam.” He bent his right knee in a deep bow, lost his balance and toppled on to the floor. Kate burst out laughing. He stared up at her, frowning. “It is not comely for a widow to laugh so loudly and draw attention to herself. I may withdraw my offer of service unless you assist me to my feet.” She offered him a languid hand. “I have never been acquainted with such an ungainly gentleman. Do take care not to take me down with you.” He couldn’t resist and tugged her down on top of him. “Now madam. What do you say to this?” Kate slapped him lightly on the cheek. “Take that, sir. You make too free. I shall scream for help if you do not release me.” “One little kiss, madam. After such a long drought, you must long for a kiss.” Kate removed the hat, placed it over his face and stood. “I have kissed many since my poor dear husband died. I do not suffer from lack of attention. Now, sir, I leave you, and return to my fourteen fatherless children.” Richard swept the hat from his face. “Fourteen children! Then I bid you good morning, madam.” Rising to his feet, he handed her the hat. “Your hat, madam.” Laughing together, they closed the chests and returned to their wing of the house. “It’s just as well you did not leave me there. I might have been lost forever. Centuries from now, some new owner might stumble across my bones huddled in a dark corner.”
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At her door, Richard rested his hand on her shoulder. “I would have found you long before that. My lovely companion has not yet worked out her three months. She has several more weeks of servitude.” Kate curtsied. “My lord, it is my pleasure to wait upon you. Good morning.” With a saucy smile, she turned the door handle, and disappeared into her room. Playful Kate. Warm and loving Kate. Kissable Kate. So innocent. With no inkling how her kiss had affected him. He only hoped when she kissed Dolly before they wed, he’d have the strength of will not to take advantage of her. Riena’s clothing bundled in her arms, the black straw hat clutched in her hand, Catherine closed the door and leaned her back against it. Why had she taken it into her head to kiss him? He’d been surprised at her boldness, and tried to make light of the incident. The game with the black hat had been his way of bringing her to her senses without causing her undue distress. He’d not wanted to embarrass her. “Catherine, are you coming or going or have you not decided?” “What?” Riena smiled at her from one of the wing chairs. “I asked if you were coming or going.” “Sorry. My thoughts were wandering. Lord Glenmore and I found perfect clothing for you. Come look at them and let me know what you think. I also have some undergarments folded into the dresses.” Catherine laid out her friend’s traveling wardrobe on the bed. “You must try on the widow’s weeds and the hat. You’ll be so disguised no one will recognize you.” “Weeds? Am I to wear thistles, burdock and the like?” Catherine slipped her arm around Riena’s waist. “No thistles or dandelions, although you’d be beautiful no matter what you wore. Weeds means clothing, that’s all.” “Then I shall try on my widow’s weeds.” Riena stripped off Catherine’s blue dress and slipped on the black dress. Transformed into a young widow, she placed the hat on her head, and dropped the veil over her face. “What do you think?” “You are perfect. Now walk slowly around the room and remember you are not a Romany girl. You are a young lady in mourning.” Riena strolled back and forth, taking small mincing steps. “Will I do?” She removed the hat. Catherine giggled, and pointed at Riena’s feet peeping from under the voluminous black taffeta skirt. “Your red boots are not quite the thing. We’ll have to find some shoes or soft slippers to fit you.”
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Riena frowned. “I am causing so many problems. Let me go off on my own. I’ll purchase what I require in London.” “You will do no such thing. Tomorrow you leave here dressed as a widow. I have two other dresses for you, a coat and a shawl. Try them on.” In the brown dress and coat, Riena’s appearance changed again. Although still beautiful, the brown color subdued her natural sparkle. “Now all you require is a prayer book in your hands and a thoughtful expression on your face as though conversing with a favorite saint.” A sharp rapping on the door made them both jump. Riena sat down, hands folded on her lap and gazed at the floor. “Catherine, it’s Dolly. May I come in?” Wondering what he might want, she crossed to the door and opened it. “I have a small trunk for Riena. It belongs to me but I can spare it. I brought it back from India.” “Come in then. Riena’s been trying on her new wardrobe.” Her friend stood and curtsied, as nice a curtsy as Catherine had ever seen. “Thank you, Captain Delisle. You are very kind.” Instead of making strong eye contact in gypsy fashion, Riena lowered her gaze. Dolly carried the trunk across to her. “I am pleased to be of service. The brown dress you are wearing gives you the appearance of a charming church mouse. No one will guess the mouse has a Romany heart.” Catherine looked from one to the other. Both seemed at a loss for words. “Dolly, I think you should put the trunk down before your arms tire and you drop it on Riena’s feet.” Dolly turned to Catherine. “Where shall I put it?” “Beside the bed will do fine.” Catherine watched him lower the trunk to the floor. Had she imagined it? She had the strangest feeling that something had passed between Dolly and Riena. But how could that be? They’d never met until last night when Riena had arrived at the door, bruised and beaten. Yet in the library, he had scarcely taken his eyes from her. Whatever Riena wore, her exotic beauty would draw men to her like a magnet. Little wonder Dolly found her attractive. With a last glance at Riena, Dolly bowed. “I bid you both good morning.” He closed the door behind him. “Anna will soon be here with our luncheon. Perhaps you had better change into my blue dress, and we’ll pack up your trunk.” Like someone lost in thought, Riena did as bid. “Whatever is wrong with you?” Catherine asked. “Are you unwell?” “Unwell? No, it’s just that.” She paused. “No, it is nothing. That’s a very handsome trunk Captain Delisle has given me. I’ll be the envy of all the girls on the bride ship. The brass fittings and lock are very fine. I’ll place my Romany clothes out of sight at the
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bottom with my crystal but I want you to have this.” Riena held up one of her brilliantly colored skirts, washed and ironed by the maids. “Oh, Riena, I’d love to have it, but when would I wear such a beautiful skirt?” She knew better than to refuse the gift. “Did you not say there’s to be a party within a week or so? Wear it then, with this.” Catherine could not believe her eyes. “This” was a white cotton blouse with a scooped neck, full sleeves, caught tight at the wrist and embroidered with flowers matching the colors in the skirt. She hadn’t noticed it when Riena had shed her wet clothing. “Riena…I can’t accept.” She caught the look on her friend’s face. “Thank you. I’ll treasure these and the gold earrings.” Smiling she held the skirt and blouse against her and posed in front of the Cheval glass. “Imagine the stir at the party if I appear as a gypsy girl.” Riena’s eyes sparkled. “Captain Delisle said I looked like a church mouse with a Romany heart. Dressed as a gypsy girl, you’ll be a Romany with a Gadji heart.” “Captain Delisle seemed taken with you.” “Perhaps, but I paid him no mind. Now I’ll finish my packing.” Kneeling on the floor, she folded garments into the trunk. Catherine hung the skirt and blouse in the wardrobe wishing she had the courage to wear the gypsy outfit at the party but that was out of the question. Riena seemed disinclined to discuss Dolly, and sensitive to the nuance in her friend’s voice, Catherine did not pursue the subject. But off and on for the rest of the day, she puzzled over his encounter with Riena. At least that stopped her thinking about kissing Richard. If she ever found her way back to the box room, memories of the hour spent with him would flood back. The dust. Her fear he might choke to death. Her arms around him. Kissing him! Whatever had possessed her to take advantage of him when he could scarcely breathe? Her own wicked need to taste him had overtaken her common sense. His lips felt just as she had imagined. Firm and full and altogether perfect. Her limited experience with young men did not go so far as sampling their lips but she thought Richard’s lips were just right for kissing. Catherine tried to stem the tide of memories washing over her and failed dismally. Something he’d said confused her. She was to always think of Glenmore Manor as her home. What an odd thing to say when he knew full well she’d be leaving at the end of summer—if she remained that long. Her mother would insist they stay, no doubt hoping a suitor for Catherine might emerge from one of the county families.
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Chapter Seventeen Late that night, with Riena safe in bed, Catherine disobeyed Richard’s instructions and opened the balcony door. A full moon crested the distant forest, and drenched the manor grounds with silvery light. Would Riena’s husband return? She no longer feared him, but Catherine did not have her friend’s absolute faith in vengeful crows. Tempted farther out on the balcony by the beautiful summer night, she sat on the stone balustrade. She drew a pale blue shawl around her shoulders, and propped her back against the wall. The night, the warmth, and the landscape stretching below entranced her. She had never sat outside and sketched moon shadows. There were so many places on the grounds that would be perfect to set up her easel. She’d draw the angles and planes of the stable. Or the orchard with its straight lines of trees and curving branches. Or out on the drive facing the manor. In the mysterious moonlight, the colors of day disappeared into shimmering light and shades of black. Inclined to fetch her easel and pad and sketch the scene, Catherine stood. Off to the side, a movement caught her eye. In the shadow of the hedge a man moved silently toward the house. Fear gripped her. Not for herself. For Riena. It was him. Come for her friend. She had no time to call Richard. If she hesitated he’d soon be close enough to climb the ivy-covered drainpipe and enter the house. Stealing into her room, she picked up the heavy brass poker and coal scuttle at the fireplace and crept back to the balcony. “You there,” she called. “What are you doing?” She hurled a lump of coal at him. The coal caught him squarely on the arm. She swung the poker in whirling arcs over her head, ready to throw it. “Don’t come one step closer or I’ll cut you down with this.” The brass poker glinted in the moonlight. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Trying to kill me?” “Richard?” Catherine gulped. “Is that you?” “Of course it’s me. You’ve all but broken my arm, and now you’re threatening to break my head with that damned poker. What are you doing out on the balcony this time of night. I told you to stay indoors.” He gazed up at her, his face half shadowed by the moon rising at his back. “What are you doing out there scaring me half to death?” Catherine demanded, as angry as he. “I thought Riena’s husband was prowling.” She’d been protecting her friend not trying to kill Richard. Sick at heart, she sagged against the stone railing. Inches closer and the lump of coal might have struck his head… Might have injured him badly. And she’d almost thrown the poker. What if she had? The poker would surely have killed him.
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“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought…” He stepped closer to the flagstone walk under the balcony. “I’m not dead, although you certainly did your best. You’ve a wicked aim when you put your mind to it. What were you doing on the balcony?” Relieved to hear the amusement in his voice, Catherine’s heartbeat returned to normal. She leaned over the balustrade to speak to him. “I needed a breath of air, and the moonlight drew me outside.” “Then come down and walk with me awhile. I am to keep watch at the front of the house. It’s a beautiful night. We’ll stroll a short way down the drive and back.” “What of Riena’s husband?” “I’ve armed men scouting the grounds. He’ll not show his face. Walk with me, Kate. You don’t sound a bit sleepy.” “But it’s very late. I should be in bed.” “How can you think about going to bed after trying to kill me?” Catherine sighed. It was a lovely night and if she tried to sleep she was sure to lie awake worrying about how close she came to injuring him. She might not catch a wink of sleep. A walk in the moonlight would ease her mind. “Very well. Because I tried to kill you, I’ll make amends, and meet you at the front steps.” She dismissed a twinge of guilt about the propriety of her actions, but she had to make sure his arm had not been hurt. She lit a candle in a brass candlestick, and moving quietly, left her room. A few lamps glowed here and there along the hall lighting her way. Once outside the house, she blew out the candle. “Richard?” She set the candlestick down. Off to one side, he stood watching her. She’d come to walk in the moonlight with him. Brave girl. He would not take advantage of her. “I’m here, Kate.” He came to the foot of the steps and waited for her. In the silvery light, her hair gleamed. “How beautiful everything looks, so different from the day.” She dazzled him with a smile. “Before I saw you, and threw the lump of coal, I was tempted to take my drawing pad and pencils and come down to sketch.” “Although I am certain Riena’s husband will not dare to return with my men guarding the house and grounds, this is not the night for you to be out sketching. Tonight you must soothe my frayed nerves with a companionable walk. Never before have I been attacked by a crazed woman with lumps of coal and a poker.” “Then don’t lurk under my balcony again lest I do you harm.” Kate drew her shawl tight around her shoulders, and under her elbows. Just as well, he thought, it kept him from taking her arm, kept him from feeling her warmth through the sleeve of his jacket. “Come along, we shall walk down the drive until you tire.” 147
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“Tire? It’s so lovely outside. I could stay here all night. The moon changes everything. Nothing looks the same as in the day. Everything is all shadowy and mysterious.” She stopped and gazed up at him. “Let’s not talk. I want to drink all this in and listen to the night sounds.” Her moonlight beauty intoxicated him. He cupped her chin in his hand, bent down and kissed her. “You and the night are so enchanting, I had to kiss you.” He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her to him. “Kiss me, Kate. Then we shall walk on.” Seeming as helpless as he to resist the pull of the moon, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. A feathery light, lingering kiss, her lips slightly parted. “Richard, I think…I think that is enough kissing.” She drew back a pace. “Yes.” But he didn’t release her while the magic of holding her in his arms held him spellbound. “Kate.” “Yes.” She tipped back her head, and looked up at him, her eyes like dark pools. Unreadable. He tightened his arm around her waist and kissed her, a demanding lover’s kiss. The shawl slipped from her shoulders, and she slid her arms around his neck, her body melding with his, returning his kiss. A dog barked nearby. Startled, Kate sprang away from him and gathered up her shawl where it had fallen. The dog burst through an opening in the hedge lining the drive. “Easy Gyp, it’s not rabbits you’re after this night.” A man, rifle slung over his arm, tramped after the dog, and stopped in his tracks when he saw Richard. He tipped his cap. “Evening, my lord. Good evening, Miss Thurston.” Kate nodded and fussed with her shawl. Edgy, Richard nodded at the young groom, wondering if he had seen Kate in his arms. What a fool he’d been for insisting Kate walk with him. She could hardly refuse and the last thing he wanted was her reputation sullied by gossiping servants. “Good evening, Tom. Any sign of the man?” “No, sir.” “Be on your way then.” Tom glanced at Kate, tipped his cap and strode off after the dog. “We’d best return to the house.” He had to apologize for his actions, for losing control and kissing her. She’d come for a walk in the moonlight and he’d behaved like the worst kind of rake, taking advantage of her innocence. Wrapped up tight in her shawl, staring straight ahead, she walked beside him. “Richard, I do not think you meant to kiss me.” “Oh, I meant it right enough, and should not have done it. It’s just that you…” He paused, searching for the right words, inadequate words to make things right between them. She was as good as betrothed to his brother, yet she had returned his kiss. Like as not, he reminded her of Dolly, the dark playing tricks with her senses.
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He cleared his throat. “You looked so mysterious, and otherworldly, not at all like my sensible daytime companion, that I was tempted to see if you were real.” “And was I?” she asked, her voice unsteady. “You are all too real, and I regret kissing you. It was unforgivable.” “It was foolish of me to come walking in the moonlight without a chaperone.” “You came because I asked you. I made you feel guilty for hitting me with a lump of coal, and I failed to thank you for keeping such a close watch over Riena.” He wished he could tell her in plain, honest English that he loved her. If truth were known as soon as she’d consented to join him he’d intended to kiss her before the night was out. And if Tom Jepson hadn’t come along… Nothing would have happened. He would not have seduced her. Or would he? Betrayed her? Betrayed his brother? What kind of hellish brute had he become? “I think we are all on edge because of the threat to Riena. What happened between us is best forgotten,” Kate said. Her sudden cool demeanor jolted him. He’d been ready to get down on his knees, and beg her to forgive him, and she was behaving as though moonlight kisses were of no moment. Perhaps Kate was not quite the pure virginal creature he’d first thought. Perhaps she was practiced in the ways of luring men to kiss her. A tease. She’d not hesitated to take him in her arms in the box room and the kiss she’d bestowed on him then had all but stolen the last of his breath. “Best forgotten? You are right, of course. A kiss between friends. A companionable kiss, wouldn’t you say? You really are the perfect companion to take on a moonlight walk.” Although churning inside with guilt, doubt and irritation, he kept his voice under control. “I’ve taken enough of your time. Off you go to bed. I have to walk around and check windows and doors.” They approached the house in silence. Kate picked up her skirt, ran up the steps, and picked up the candlestick. She fumbled with the heavy brass knob, threw open the door and slammed it behind her. The hinges rattled. Richard stared at the door, half expecting her to come back, and wish him goodnight. She’d no business running off like that without a word. Hadn’t he agreed to forget what happened between them and put it down to fear for Riena’s safety? He’d even teased her about being the perfect companion. He thought she’d laugh. He made his rounds, checking windows and doors, before returning to the front of the house. Kate had sat on the bench by the steps when he still called her Miss Thurston. He’d been rude to her then. Been rude to her from the start. Why hadn’t she up and left? Not for love of him, that was a certainty.
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Money. She required money and still had to work out her servitude. Kate had come walking with him because she felt obliged to. Richard threw himself down on the bench. Did she feel anything for him? They’d played a silly game in the box room when she pretended to be a widow, and him a suitor. They’d enjoyed each other’s company. Perhaps when she held him to ease his breathing, her kiss had been perfectly innocent, meant to comfort him. Had he damaged their friendship with his crude attempt at—yes, he might as well admit it—seduction. Bending her will to his. Dolly jog-trotted up the drive. “Still up, Richard? I’m for bed. We’ve enough men prowling the grounds. They don’t need us, and if I’m to be off early tomorrow with Riena, I’ll need my sleep. Are you coming?” He ran up the steps and opened the door. “In a few minutes. You go ahead. I’ll lock up.” “Goodnight then.” Richard sat with his head in his hands, wishing he could take back the night. Somehow, he had to make things right with Kate. After Dolly and Riena left in the morning, he’d invite her to go riding. Better still, he’d ask her to come with him to escort the carriage to the station, and see them off on the London train. She’d like that. Feeling more cheerful, he had one last look around. In a corner of the portico he came across Kate’s shawl. Gathering it up, he breathed in the light scent she used. Whoever Kate was, an innocent or a tease, he loved her. So why should Dolly have her? He hadn’t declared his intentions. Hinted only. Unless his brother spoke to him soon, and asked his permission to wed Kate, then he’d offer to marry her. And Madeline? Richard stood and followed Dolly into the house, Kate’s shawl over his arm. He’d think about Madeline another time.
***** With the door hinges still rattling behind her, Catherine charged up the staircase, furious at herself for kissing him, angry at him for his mocking remark about her being the perfect nighttime companion. She stumbled at the landing, banged her elbow against the banister and the candlestick flew from her hand. It clattered all the way down, bounced on the marble floor below and disappeared in the gloom. A sob caught in her throat. Sure the noise would awaken the entire household, she held her breath waiting for someone to come and investigate but the house remained quiet. Frustrated, hurt and ashamed, she tried to stem the tears threatening to fall. In the dim light cast by a lamp on the newel post, Catherine made her way back down to pick up the candlestick and escape to the sanctuary of her room. Her eyes wet with tears, she searched around and found the candlestick, minus the candle, under a side table. Down on her knees, she stretched out her arm, and reached for it.
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The door opened. “Goodnight then.” She heard Dolly’s voice as he strode into the house. Startled by his sudden appearance, candlestick in her hand, Catherine jerked up, and cracked her head on the table. Stifling a cry, she could not stop the tears trickling down her nose and spilling on the floor. “What the hell?” Dolly caught her around the waist, and lifted her up. “Catherine? What are you doing under that table, and why are you crying?” “I’m not crying.” She swiped the back of her hand across her face. “You are crying. Here wipe your eyes.” He handed her a handkerchief. Catherine snuffled into it. “Now tell me what you were doing under that table.” Dolly’s comforting arm remained around her waist. “I was going upstairs and dropped the candlestick. I came down to find it.” “And you bumped your head. Poor Catherine.” Dolly hugged her. “You should not be wandering about in the dark. I’ll escort you to your room.” “That is not necessary, Dolly. I will see Miss Thurston safe to her room. It’s close to mine.” Catherine slid from Dolly’s embrace, and swung around to face Richard. He stood in the open doorway. “I do not require an escort, Lord Glenmore. If I do, then Dolly may assist me.” She lifted her chin. “Thank you for your kindness, Dolly. Goodnight.” Candlestick in hand, head high, back straight, Catherine marched up the stairs. How dare he? How dare he patronize her? She stormed along the hallway, glared at his door as she passed, flew into the safety of her room and turned the key in the lock. The lamp glowed on her bedside table. “Oh no,” she wailed. “Where’s my shawl?” What had she done with it? She couldn’t remember. Had she dropped it on the stairs or under the table? No, she would have seen it. Did Richard have it? Too angry to observe him properly, she’d not paid attention when he’d entered the house. She closed her eyes, picturing him in the doorway. Something light-colored hung on his arm. It had to be her shawl. Her favorite shawl. She’d destroy it! Never, never would she wear it to remind her of her folly. She kicked off her shoes, and threw herself on the bed. Why oh why had she welcomed his kiss? Indeed had encouraged him. And wanted more! What had persuaded her to go walking in the moonlight with him? Had she secretly hoped he’d kiss her? Secretly hoped for what? Not love. Oh yes, she really had hoped for love. She thumped the pillow. Stupid, silly girl. And the look Tom Jepson had given her. Had he seen her almost begging Richard to kiss her? Arms around his neck, clinging to him like a limpet, feeling his hard body pressing against hers.
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Shame overwhelmed her. She had to escape from the dreadful pit she’d fallen into by her inexcusable behavior. She’d return home tomorrow. She’d travel with Dolly and Riena and leave Glenmore Manor behind. Determined to start packing, she jumped off the bed and stubbed her toe against Riena’s trunk. “Ouch!” She hopped around the floor, and fell into one of the wing chairs. Pain from her toe, pain from everything that had gone wrong, crushed her. The night had been a disaster from start to finish. Why had she allowed Richard to make free with her? What must he think of his companion now? Sniffling into Dolly’s handkerchief, she pulled off her stocking to examine her toe and decided it wasn’t broken. At least her toe was in better shape than the rest of her. Her soul hurt. Her heart ached. Her pride was in tatters. They’d take longer to mend than her toe. She stood, undressed, wandered into the bathroom and bathed. She glowered at her reflection in the mirror and extinguished the lamp wishing she could wipe out the past hour as easily. In the bedroom, she slipped into her nightgown, and paced the floor finally coming to a stop at the closed balcony doors. Through the glass she gazed at the moon. “Wretched moon,” she whispered. “It’s your fault for luring me outside.” Dogged by miserable thoughts, Catherine tossed back the covers on her bed, plumped up the pillows, turned down the lamp, and huddled between the cool sheets. Her thoughts churned. Her eyes refused to close. She propped her head on her hand when she heard Richard walking along the hall. A slow walk, his stick tapping, not his usual swift, limping stride. Then nothing. Minutes passed. Not a sound. He hadn’t opened and shut his door or she’d have heard it. What was he doing out there? Had he noticed something amiss near Riena’s room? Was she in danger? Forgetting her anger at him, fearing there might be something wrong, Catherine ran across the room, unlocked the door and opened it. “Richard?” He was leaning against the wall opposite. “Are you all right?” “I’ve brought your shawl.” “My shawl.” She echoed, at a loss for words. “I found it under the portico.” “Under the portico.” What was the matter with her? She sounded like a proper ninny. “You dropped it when you rushed into the house.” He shoved himself away from the wall, crossed the space between them and handed it to her. His fingers touched hers. Fiery tingles flared up her arm. “Thank you for bringing it. I thought I had lost it.” In the dimly lit hall, he could not see the blushes burning her cheeks. “Goodnight, Kate. I’m sorry I upset you when Dolly offered his assistance.”
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Feeling as though she was dancing around the edge of an abyss, Catherine steadied her voice. “Upset me? Whatever made you think that? I was a little tired and regret my hasty remark when you offered to escort me upstairs.” She glanced down to avoid his eyes and realized she was barefoot, wearing only her nightgown, a filmy silky thing, a gift from her mother on her last birthday. Afraid he might notice the swell of her breasts under the revealing silk she clutched the shawl up around her neck, and backed into her room. “Goodnight.” “Will you ride with me in the morning?” His question caught her by surprise. “In the morning?” She was doing it again, echoing his words. Had she lost her wits? “I thought we’d escort Riena and Dolly to Abbeyleigh and see them off.” Catherine bit her tongue. She had almost said “see them off” and stopped in the nick of time. “That would be most enjoyable.” Selfishly concerned about herself, she’d all but forgotten her friend. Riena had to be dressed in the widow’s weeds, and given a few quick lessons in proper deportment, before she departed with Dolly. “Once they’ve gone we’ll have the rest of the morning to ourselves. You won’t have to worry about Riena’s safety.” “I’ll feel easier in my mind when I know Dolly has seen her on board ship.” This middle of the night, casual conversation with Richard disconcerted Catherine. Mere minutes ago, she’d been furious with him and herself, ready to run away and never return, but here she was making plans for the morning as though nothing had happened between them on their moonlight walk. Perhaps the kisses they’d shared meant nothing to him. Perhaps he thought her “easy”, willing to let him do what he liked with her. Painfully aware of how the kisses had affected her and determined not to show it, Catherine forced a tight smile. “Do you want me to read to you when we’ve returned from the station or have you other plans?” “I thought we might ride over to George Pennyfeather’s farm. My steward informs me we’ll need extra help bringing in the sheep and lambs. George and his boys are excellent workers. I’ve not visited their farm since returning home from the Crimea. It’s time for me to pay a visit. If I recall rightly they’ve three or four border collies. They are the best I’ve ever seen working the sheep.” Catherine brightened. “I’d enjoy visiting the farm.” “Then it’s arranged. I’ll have Cook pack us some food. After we’ve seen George, I know a perfect spot to have a picnic.” Catherine shivered. Not from fear. From thinking about spending hours alone with him and sharing a meal. What if he kissed her again? She wouldn’t be so foolish a second time. The moonlight had played tricks on her. It had made her forget her place in the Glenmore family.
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She raised her brows, hoping to appear coolly distant. “A picnic sounds like a splendid idea. I look forward to it.” Richard held her hand and raised it to his lips. “Goodnight, Kate.” All her good intentions fell by the wayside. Instead of snatching her hand away, she allowed him to kiss it. Her knees weakened. The shawl slithered down her arm, and tangled between her hand and his. Catherine swept up the shawl to make a hasty exit into her room, but a fringe snagged a button on the sleeve of his jacket. “Oh drat!” She tugged at the fringe, and tried to keep the shawl from sliding down. Her breasts had reacted to his touch. They’d swelled against the flimsy white silk, and her nipples had hardened, dreadful showy little peaks! Why were they doing this to her? Embarrassed, Catherine prayed he wouldn’t notice and crossed her arm over her brazen chest to hide the shameful display. “Here, let me.” Richard gathered up the shawl and loosened the fringe. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry at her predicament, Catherine grabbed her shawl, and backed into her room. “Goodnight.” She breathed a thankful sigh and closed the door quietly. Richard heard her key click in the lock. Just as well. With Kate behind a locked door, he was safe from making a fool of himself. In her revealing nightgown, Kate’s seductive curves had left nothing to his imagination, and his imagination had run riot. Her usual simple dresses were not cut to reveal her breasts. But the whiter silk of her nightgown revealed the soft mounds and her dark nipples in all their glory. Make love to her. The silk whispered to him as he handed her the shawl. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Whether in her day dresses, riding habit or that erotic nightgown, Kate tempted him. Tempted him into doing something he’d regret. He crossed the hall to his suite. Pickens had left lamps burning and laid out his nightclothes. He studied Kate’s framed drawing hanging on his bedroom wall. Had he maintained his sour outlook on life, Kate would have departed long ago and returned to London. Falling in love with his companion had made him want to live. He couldn’t imagine being without her. Could not imagine how empty the house would feel without her. His mother seemed determined to have Kate stay over the summer months, even to the point of having Lady Jane Thurston join them. He’d never known his mother take to anyone as she had to Kate. She’d be delighted when Dolly declared his intentions to make her a permanent member of the family. He tried not to think of his brother taking Kate to bed, and making love to her, but like a knife thrust in his heart, the thought persisted. Even the loss of his damned leg was nothing compared to losing Kate to Dolly. Try as he might to make the best of it, she’d still be living at the manor, he’d see her children growing up, but did not want to think about how those children were conceived.
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Dolly taking her virginity. Hearing her cry out when he entered her for the first time. Dolly kissing her breasts. Kissing every part of her. Thrusting into her. Spilling his seed. His body in turmoil, he undressed and tossed his clothes aside. Damned fool. Stop thinking about Kate and Dolly. Think about something else. Think about hiring George Pennyfeather and his boys to bring the sheep in. Think about sending Dolly off to escort Riena to London. Think about having Kate to himself. He drew a cool bath, and sank gratefully into it. He’d survived the Crimea. Survived the agony of having his leg blasted apart. Survived the screams of his dying horse. He’d survive losing Kate to his brother. Catherine paced the floor, stopping now and then to cup her breasts in her hands. Her nipples, still hard, were plainly visible through the silk. Why was her body doing this? She’d never had this problem before but when he touched her strange sensations ruled her. Her breasts, unpredictable. Her nipples, out of control. And quivery pulses in her private parts. What if Richard guessed? What if he had an inkling of what was happening to her? She’d surely die of shame. Well brought up young ladies should remain calm under all circumstances, unless they had the vapors to call attention to their weak female natures. Catherine protested she did not have a weak nature, and flung herself on the bed but she seemed unable to refuse Richard’s requests. Ride to the station to see Riena and Dolly off on the London train. Ride over to the Pennyfeather farm. Ride to a favorite spot and picnic with him. What if she changed her mind? Told him she thought it best for her to leave. Then he’d demand to know why. How could she tell him the truth? That she loved him. That being near him, touching him, kissing him, had weakened her will? How he’d laugh. His companion in love with her employer? And him betrothed to another? Didn’t she understand when he teased her? Catherine shook her head. She had to make the best of it, but she would refuse to spend the summer months at the manor. Even her mother’s disappointment at missing such a treat would not make her change her mind. She’d promised to assist Lady Glenmore arrange the party decorations, and after the party she’d be free to leave. Well, almost free unless Richard insisted she complete every last day of her contract. Buried up to her chin under the comforter, Catherine settled down to sleep. A breeze rustled the curtains at the open window across from the bed. The balcony door creaked. Sitting bolt upright in bed, her heart thumping, Catherine stared into the dark at the outline of the French doors. She had locked them. Was someone out there trying to break in? Shivering, she crept from bed, crossed the room and checked the lock. It held fast. In the moonlight, a silent shadow swept past the balcony. Not a crow. Crows did not fly at night. Nearby an owl hooted and she pitied the little creatures out foraging for food soon to be a meal for the night hunter.
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Riena no longer feared the man bent on killing her but Catherine was not so sure. The night sounds of the countryside, the cry of an owl, the bark of a fox, familiar from her childhood, sent a cold chill trickling down her spine. The hunter and the hunted. Had Riena not found refuge at the manor, she might not be alive. Catherine returned to bed, propped a pillow behind her back and sat up. How trivial her concerns were when she thought how Riena had suffered. If all she had to fret about was being close to Richard, fearing he might kiss her, then she truly was a light-minded girl. Tomorrow, the next day and the next, until her time was up at Glenmore Manor, she’d remember Riena, and the courage it had taken to escape from her abuser. Catherine slid down under the comforter. Richard didn’t menace her! How could she contemplate being nervous around him? After the first few meetings, he’d been very amiable, even had gone so far as to say he liked having her as his companion. She smiled into the darkened room. Loving him was the problem. Her problem. Not his. When she reacted to his touch in unexpected ways, she’d ignore it or think of it as a pleasant diversion. For it was very pleasant. His kisses… If she remembered their kisses in the box room and out in the moonlight she might dream about dancing with him, half-naked except for her gypsy skirt and swirling shawl. Catherine closed her eyes tight. If she kept them shut she’d go to sleep and stop thinking about him. Was she lovesick? Her eyes popped open. That might account for the heated blushes when he gazed at her in a certain way, and the warm quivery feelings pleasuring her female parts when he kissed her. It was like being delirious with a fever. But fevers were curable. Away from Glenmore Manor, she’d soon regain her normal health. Lovesick indeed! She’d not fall into a decline over a love she could not have.
***** Richard tossed and turned in bed. What was Kate doing? Sleeping soundly, he supposed. He’d lain awake, heard his mantel clock strike one, then two, and still sleep eluded him. Images of Kate bedeviled his thoughts. In his arms, not Dolly’s. Making love to her. Entering her for the first time. Hearing her moans of delight when she learned the arts of love. Aroused, he was tempted to cross the hall, and demand to see her. To insist his companion make love with him. He almost laughed aloud at such lunacy. Perhaps the moonlight had affected his mind. Lunatics and lovers. Not much to choose between them. One way or another, both were out of control.
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Being slightly mad did not give him the right to kiss Kate whenever and wherever the opportunity arose. Tomorrow he’d behave with perfect aplomb. Friendly but not too friendly. He’d do nothing to spoil their time together. The clock struck three. Damn it. He’d not be fit company tomorrow if he didn’t get some sleep. He’d stopped drinking brandy to help him sleep. Nightmares no longer plagued him. Dreams of Kate disturbed his rest. A pleasant prospect. He closed his eyes.
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Chapter Eighteen Bright, early morning sunshine streaming through the windows wakened Catherine. She’d slept soundly with no unruly dreams to disturb the night. She slipped on her robe, crossed the sun-filled room, and unlocked her door. Stealing quietly along the hall she knocked on Riena’s door, waited to hear the click of the lock and opened the door. Dressed in her widow’s weeds, Riena nodded gracefully, a slight smile on her face. “Ah, Miss Thurston, I am pleased you have come. As you can see, I am sorely grieved, and greatly troubled. When will breakfast be served? I am close to fainting from hunger.” Catherine collapsed on the floor, laughing. Riena strolled over and nudged her arm. “Where are your manners, Miss Thurston? This is not the kind of behavior I expect from a young lady of quality.” “Stop! My ribs are aching.” Riena grasped Catherine’s hands and drew her up. “Will I do?” “Do? You are perfect. How did you become such a wonderful mimic?” “I learned very quickly by watching and listening to ladies. You were my first teacher. I used to entertain the camp pretending to speak like you. I’ve a good ear. No one on the bride ship will guess I’m a Romany.” “Come along to breakfast, Mrs.… What will you call yourself?” Catherine linked her arm in Riena’s, walked her along the hall to her room, and closed the door behind them. “I shall be Miss Rose Stansfield from Dorchester when I book my passage. For now, I am Mrs. Rose Stansfield, grieving widow.” She changed her voice. “Please dress, my dear. I cannot eat breakfast with you in your night attire.” Catherine curtsied, smothering her giggles. “I shall not be long, madam. I know you long to be on your way to London.” Anna knocked and bustled into the room, carrying the breakfast tray. “Oh, excuse me, Miss Thurston, I did not know…” She paused, set the tray down and stared at Riena. “Are you?” Flustered, she removed the silver covers from the sausages and eggs. Catherine came to her rescue. “My friend is leaving for London this morning. Please leave the teapot. I’ll pour the tea after I dress.” “Very well, Miss.” She hurried across the room and cast a quick glance over her shoulder before closing the door.
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Catherine headed for the bathroom. “Poor Anna, she doesn’t know what to make of you. The bedraggled gypsy has been transformed into a proper lady.” Catherine dressed in her riding habit ready to escort Riena and Dolly to Abbeyleigh after breakfast. Seated across the table from her friend Catherine gave her lessons in the proper way to hold her knife and fork. To cut her food into bite-sized pieces. To chew with her mouth closed. How to raise the teacup to her lips and sip daintily. “You’ll do very well. Watch how the other women on the ship behave, and you won’t put a foot wrong.” Riena reached across and held Catherine’s hand. “I will never forget what you and the Glenmore family have done for me.” Catherine swallowed hard, biting back tears. “I’ll never forget you. Promise to write, and tell me about Victoria.” A brisk knocking on the door saved Catherine from spoiling her friend’s departure by weeping over her. “Come in,” she called out. Two young male servants bowed into the room. For seconds they stood, seeming paralyzed. One of them finally found his voice. “We’ve come for the trunk, Miss. Orders from Lord Glenmore. He says the carriage is waiting.” Catherine pointed at the trunk. “It’s by the bed. Inform Lord Glenmore we’ll be down directly.” The young men lifted the trunk, and blushing furiously carried it off. “Time for us to leave. Lord Glenmore and I are riding to Abbeyleigh with you.” “I’ll just fetch my hat and reticule.” She headed for the door. Catherine called after her. “Walk slowly, Mrs. Stansfield, as befits your new role.” Returning, her hat firmly on her head, the veil covering her face, a black-beaded reticule over her arm, black lace gloves on her hands, Riena minced along the hall toward Catherine. Solemnly acting the part of two grieving friends, they paced slowly down the staircase and across the great entrance hall. Lady Glenmore and Edward waited under the portico to see them off. “You look splendid, Riena. I am pleased my clothing fitted so well.” Lady Glenmore offered her hand. Riena curtsied and touched her fingers. “I can never thank you enough for your hospitality and your kindness. I shall never forget the help you’ve given me.” Edward bowed. “It has been a pleasure to meet you. May God keep you safe on your journey.” Richard and Dolly waited by the carriage. Tom Jepson and another groom stood nearby with Misty and Prince, both horses saddled and ready. Catherine winced when she saw Tom, and a warm flush heated her cheeks. He held Misty’s reins loosely in one hand. He’d assist her to mount. If he had witnessed her moonlight folly, he’d not dare comment on her behavior nor even hint at it with a look or gesture. She’d act as usual with him. A friendly smile. A noncommittal remark perhaps, about the weather. 159
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“Come along, Riena, it’s time to leave.” Dolly strode up the steps to escort her to the carriage. Dressed in a dark gray suit, white shirt and black tie, he had a black armband on his left sleeve. Riena nodded to him, took his arm and walked slowly to the carriage as befitted a grieving widow. Like a queen, Catherine thought. There was something regal about Riena’s exotic beauty. Wherever she went, heads would turn. Dolly waved to his mother and Edward entered the carriage, and sat beside Riena. The liveried coachman secured the iron step in place, closed the door, and climbed to his seat. “Shall we wait for you to mount, Richard?” Dolly asked. “No, you go on ahead. Miss Thurston and I will catch up with you by the gates.” He turned to Catherine. “The groom will help you mount.” Catherine wished he had offered to assist her or, at least, had smiled. He hadn’t looked her way since she and Riena emerged from the house. Perhaps he regretted the night’s foolishness as much as she did. “Good morning, Miss Thurston.” Tom tipped his cap and smiled. Had he seen her clinging to Richard? “Good morning, Tom.” She favored him with a cool glance. He linked his hands together. Wasting no time, Catherine placed her left boot in his hands, and mounted quickly. The mare nickered and tossed her head. Rather than wait for Richard Catherine gathered the reins, nudged Misty’s flanks with her riding crop, and headed down the drive. Within seconds, he caught up with her. “Good morning, Kate. You are looking very well. I hope you had a restful night.” He held Prince to a slow trot beside her. Catherine gazed straight ahead unable to face him while memories of her dreadful behavior undermined her self-respect. “Thank you, I slept very well.” To avoid further conversation, she flicked the reins over the mare’s neck. “Come on, Misty, let’s catch up with Riena and Dolly.” Richard and Prince leapt ahead of her and streaked down the drive, kicking up gravel. Richard looked back, laughing. “I’ll race you to the gates.” Not one to avoid a challenge, Catherine spurred Misty to a full gallop. “It’s not fair,” she yelled. “You had a head start.” Forgetting her sullied reputation, she enjoyed the short race and slowed Misty when she came abreast of the carriage at the manor gates. “You cheated. That wasn’t a fair contest.” Like a dashing cavalier, he swept his hat from his head and smiled at her. “Please accept my humble apologies. Next time, I shall warn you, but I’m sure you are no match for me.” Catherine gazed at him. She had to respond to his lighthearted comment but his dark eyes, no longer smiling, searched hers, seeming to delve into her soul. Like a
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drowning swimmer, she tried to stem the emotional tide washing over her. Under the jacket of her riding habit, her breasts swelled, and the pleasant quivery pulse thrummed in her secret parts. Taking a deep breath, she filled her lungs with sweet summer air. “I am able to match you, if you play fair. No head starts. You should have a handicap because Prince is bigger and faster than Misty.” Dolly stuck his head out of the carriage window. “Are you coming with us or not? The train leaves within the hour.” Richard waved them on and took up a position on Riena’s side of the carriage. “Kate, you ride beside Dolly. You won’t be seeing him for a few days, no doubt you have things to discuss.” Catherine had wanted to speak with Riena while they rode to Abbeyleigh. She’d nothing particular to say to Dolly, and wondered why Richard thought she might. Trotting alongside the carriage, she ducked down to have a look at her friend. Although the carriage was roomy, Dolly and Riena sat close together, engrossed in conversation. He held one of her gloved hands in his. Puzzled by this show of intimacy, Catherine straightened in the saddle. Surely Dolly was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of Riena. She had not fully recovered from her husband’s beatings or his death threats and might be vulnerable to Dolly’s considerable charm. On the approach to the station, Catherine noticed him shift to his side of the carriage. Concerned for her friend, Catherine swung around the carriage to the mounting block by the station. “Here, let me help you,” Richard said and skillfully dismounted. He’s been practicing she thought and waited for him by the mounting block. Grasping her around the waist, he lifted her down. Through a mist, Catherine heard the carriage stop. Heard the coachman jump down from his perch, lower the step and open the door. “Are you all right, Kate? You’ve gone quite pale.” Richard steadied her, one arm snug around her waist. Catherine swallowed hard, breathed deeply, and didn’t reply. She could not tell him how she felt with his hands on her waist, warming every part of her. “Do you think Riena is going to be safe?” she asked. “Of course she is.” Dolly called out, and helped her from the carriage. Riena came to Catherine, holding her black silk skirt from trailing on the dusty road. “Walk with me on the platform until the train comes.” Glad to escape from Richard, Catherine clasped Riena’s hand in hers. For minutes they strolled back and forth in silence. “I shall miss you. After not seeing you for so many years, I hate losing you so quickly.”
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“I know but I must board this ship. There’ll not be another sailing for months, and I fear my father might try to find me, and take me back.” “Not your husband?” Catherine asked. “He has not long to live. I will be free of him within weeks.” Catherine stopped and faced her friend. “How can you be so sure?” Riena lifted her veil. “I am sure. Now kiss me goodbye.” Catherine could not stem the tears. Dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, she kissed Riena. “Sorry for crying all over you.” Riena opened her reticule, and withdrew a fine, black-trimmed handkerchief to wipe her own teary eyes. “Dolly, I mean Captain Delisle, gave me this in the carriage.” “What is between you and Dolly? I don’t mean to pry but I saw him holding your hand on the drive to the station.” Riena lowered the veil. “He has been very kind. He sensed I was nervous about stepping out dressed as a widow. He held my hand to calm me.” Tempted to caution her not to fall under Dolly’s spell, Catherine bit her tongue. If Riena believed their handholding meant nothing, so be it. Catherine had her doubts, but kept them to herself. She didn’t want to tarnish Dolly’s reputation on such slim evidence. The whistle sounded announcing the arrival of the train. It screeched to a stop, belching steam. Three passengers disembarked. Riena hugged Catherine one last time and whispered, “Remember what I told you. Lord Glenmore loves you. Your first baby will be a girl. Name her after me.” Breathless, Catherine watched Dolly help Riena into a first-class carriage. A porter heaved her trunk and Dolly’s valise into the goods van, the guard blew his whistle, waved to the driver, and the train chugged away from Abbeyleigh.
***** Suddenly aware of Richard standing beside her, Catherine’s wretched heart fluttered in her chest. Riena’s last words had shattered her composure, stirred her up inside until she didn’t know how to get through the rest of the day. She had to ride with him to the Pennyfeather farm, and then share a picnic in a secluded spot! Perhaps he’d forgotten to bring food. Perhaps she’d faint. No, that would not do. He’d hold her in his arms. He might kiss her. And that definitely would not do. “I think we’d better go, Kate.” He walked her to the mounting block, helped her into the saddle, and tossed her the reins from the hitching post.
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“Did you forget about the picnic?” Catherine hoped her voice sounded normal. It didn’t to her. It sounded as if she was speaking from behind her head. He didn’t have saddlebags with him. Up on Prince, he swung him around to take the road home. “I had cook put us up some sandwiches, and slices of fruit cake. I had her put in a bottle of wine and pewter cups. We’ll have a proper feast.” “But where is it?” she asked, trailing behind him. He glanced over his shoulder. “Come up beside me, Kate. I’ll have a crick in my neck if I have to keep turning around to see you. Our picnic lunch will be waiting for us at the gatehouse at noon. We’ll pick it up there after we’ve been to the farm, and had a good long ride. It’s a splendid day. The sun is hot for April. It feels more like June.” She didn’t want him to look at her, not while Riena’s final words blurred her senses. He had a way of watching her and reading her expressions. At times he seemed to be memorizing her face. If he guessed something was amiss, he’d want to know what troubled her, and would not take no for an answer. She’d better have a story to tell him because her nerves would be stretched to the limit by spending most of the day with him. “A penny for your thoughts.” He edged Prince close to Misty. “You’re frowning. Not worried about Riena are you?” He’d thrown her a lifeline and Catherine clutched at it. “She has such a long journey ahead of her. I can’t help but worry.” But her parting words buzzed in Catherine’s head. Lord Glenmore loves you. Promise to name your first baby girl after me. He leaned over and touched her arm. “She’ll be fine. The ships traveling around the Horn are sturdy. Seasickness might plague her, that’s all. She’s a courageous young lady, well able to take care of herself.” “I know there’s nothing to be gained by worrying about her but I am very good at worrying. It is one of the things I do very well.” Richard laughed. “Then I must teach you not to worry. I don’t want my companion beset by vague fears. I like my Kate to smile.” “How can you teach me not to worry?” Happy to be free of treacherous thoughts like, Lord Glenmore loves you. No, she’d not think of loving him. Not think it at all. But the more she tried not to, she did. Lord Glenmore loves you. “I’ll give you a lesson while we picnic.” “What? What kind of lesson?” Catherine stammered. “I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else.” Lord Glenmore loves you. He slowed Prince. “Stop a minute. Are you unwell? You seem far away. Preoccupied. If you like, I’ll go on to the Pennyfeather farm by myself, and we’ll picnic another day.”
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Catherine forced a smile to allay his fears and thwart any awkward questions he might ask. She had to get through this day and the days to come until the end of May, when she’d leave him and Glenmore Manor. In the meantime, she had to wipe Riena’s words from her thoughts. “I’m fine. It’s just that…” She chuckled, a satisfying, hearty chuckle for his benefit. “It’s just that I don’t think you can teach me not to worry. You see, I can now worry about not being able to learn how not to worry.” “Kate, you are a delight, the best companion any man could have. Being with you is a tonic.” All but struck dumb, Catherine stared at him. What did he mean she was the best companion a man could have? A paid companion? Or a real companion. A wife? Her head in a whirl, she nudged Misty. “Let’s go on to the farm.” Keeping up a steady clip, they passed by the manor gates and waved at the gatekeeper’s wife busy hanging snowy white sheets on a clothesline. As they rounded a bend in the road, George Pennyfeather, seated atop his empty farm wagon, came toward them. “Whooah.” His horses clip-clopped to a stop. A black and white border collie sat up beside him. “Good morning, George.” He nodded at Catherine. “Miss Thurston is visiting with us for the summer.” Holding on to the iron rail beside his seat, the farmer stood and removed his cap. “Morning, milord. Morning, Miss. I’m pleased to see you up and around, sir.” Richard nodded. “We were on our way to your farm. I’ll need you and your boys, and those dogs of yours to help bring in our sheep and lambs.” “Up in the hills are they, milord?” “Aye. My steward went up to have a look at the flock—seems we’ve a pretty lot of lambs ready for market.” The farmer scratched his head, and replaced his cap. “One of my lads has broke his arm. Damned fool. Pardon, Miss. He drank a bit too much scrumpy one night and tried to ride our Hereford bull. He came a cropper. Lucky the bull didn’t gore him.” “Has the arm been set properly?” Richard asked. “The bone-setter did a good job. He said it wasn’t a bad break. Josh hasn’t got the sense he was born with.” He ruffled the dog’s ears. “Me and the other three, and Ben here, will be pleased to help, milord. Just send word when you want us to start.” “My steward will come by tomorrow to make the arrangements, and George, keep an eye on young Josh. If he has trouble with his arm, I’ll have my doctor look in on him.” He turned to Catherine. “Would you like to see the flock? They’re up in the hills.” “I’d enjoy that.” A ride into the hills to view sheep would keep her at a safe distance from Richard. She smiled at George Pennyfeather. “We’ll visit your farm another time.”
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He touched his cap. “Whenever it pleases you, Miss.” The day was turning out better than she’d expected. It really was unusually hot for late April. The sun beat down on her. A visit to a local farm would be a pleasant diversion when Richard was otherwise occupied. “Good morning, Mr. Pennyfeather.” Richard started off down the road and called over his shoulder. “We’d best be off, Kate.” He pointed to the east where a line of dark clouds edged the horizon. “They might drift off but this time of year the weather can be unreliable. With this heat there might be thunder in the air. We’ll picnic if the weather holds.” Catherine nudged Misty and trotted up beside him. “Perhaps we should turn back.” She’d no desire to be caught out in a storm with him sheltering under a tree or in a shepherd’s hut. “We’ll be fine. It’s a long way off. There’s a grand view from up top. Let’s go.” With a loud whoop, he gave Prince his head and raced down the road. Catherine snapped the reins over Misty’s neck and set out after him. Mad. He’s quite mad, must think he’s on a cavalry charge. Doing her best to keep up, Catherine saw him swerve into a lane and disappear from view. Misty slowed to make the turn. The narrow lane, bordered by high hedgerows, climbed gradually in a series of sharp twists. Catherine heard the clatter of Prince’s hooves up ahead, and urged Misty on. Wretched fellow, leaving her behind. Catherine wanted to keep her distance from him but he had no business rushing ahead. Bending low over Misty’s neck, Catherine stroked her flanks with the riding crop. “Come on, Misty, let’s show him what we can do.” The ribbon holding her curls flew off. Feeling like a bird on the wing, hair flying, her skirt billowing, one with her horse, she tore around the bends, climbing steadily. Suddenly the lane ended at a grassy meadow. Ahead was an open barred gate. Richard sat on it. Prince cropped grass off to the side. “What took you so long?” He quirked one dark eyebrow, and grinned at her. A wicked self-satisfied grin. “You cheated again.” Catherine threatened to hit him with her riding crop. “No, I’d better not knock you off the fence, I might have to carry you home.” She tilted her head. “On second thoughts, I could drag you down that lane. It would serve you right for not playing fair.” Richard held up his hands. “I surrender. Mea culpa. I promise not to cheat again.” Catherine’s heart welled with happiness. She loved being with him. He was such fun, always finding a way to tease her into laughing. “What do you have in mind to do next, my lord? I’ll keep a close watch on you if you try any more tricks.” He slid off the fence, and came to her. “Let me help you dismount. We’ll walk awhile and rest the horses.”
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Before she could object, he grasped her around the waist, and lifted her down. For a flustered moment, Catherine feared he might kiss her. He hesitated before releasing her. His eyes claimed hers, and his mouth, so close, tempted her. He cleared his throat, and freed her. Not a minute too soon for she was on the verge of making a fool of herself. “Can you walk without your stick? The ground is uneven.” Catherine strove for a semblance of calm, although her heart paid no attention to orders from her head, and drummed against her ribs. “I’ll hold your arm. If you fall, so shall I.” This was not what she’d intended but could hardly refuse. Arm in arm, in brilliant sunshine, they walked to the top of the rise. Catherine gasped with pleasure at the scene below. A wide valley stretched for miles. Hundreds of sheep like round white puffs grazed in the lush spring grass. Lambs bleated, tiny tails wagging as they butted under their mothers to suckle. “How peaceful they all look.” Catherine sighed, and rested her gloved hand on his. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing to think about. No way of knowing their fate. Eat, drink and be merry.” Richard slipped his arm around her waist, and knew immediately he should have resisted temptation. Desire stirred. Hard, hot and wanting. His unruly member pressed against his breeches and he prayed to God, Kate would not notice anything amiss. He’d be shamed if she recognized the signs of his raging libido. He’d promised, again, to keep his hands to himself and not touch her. Poor innocent Kate, his future sister had rested her hand on his, and all his good intentions had gone for naught. Last night, they’d kissed, drawn together by the moon. In broad daylight, he had no moon to blame if he kissed her. “It’s restful up here but I think we should head back. Your nose is already pink from the sun. I’ll fetch a hat from the house for you before we picnic.” He turned away from temptation and whistled for Prince. Both horses trotted up. He helped Kate into the saddle and mounted Prince. “We’ll go back a different way, and take some fences if you like.” “Lead on and don’t go off like a streak of lightning or…” He laughed and kicked his heels into Prince. “Or what?” “Or I shall catch up and whack you over the head, that’s what!” Kate raced alongside him, her golden hair flying. Down the meadow they raced. Richard knew every track and every fence. He signaled Kate to turn left. Ahead was the first jump. Prince sailed over it with Misty close behind. Kate handled the mare perfectly. He led them over two more fences until the track careened almost straight down a hill. “Slow down, this is a nasty slope.” Prince held back testing the footing. Misty swerved past and Kate waved at him. “I’ll beat you to the bottom.” “Don’t be a damned fool,” he shouted. “There’s a bog at the bottom. You’ll…”
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She sped full tilt away from him. Furious with her, he kicked Prince into action. Kate didn’t know the area. Didn’t know about the treacherous bog. If she missed the path around it… Halfway down the track, his big horse slipping and sliding under him, helpless to save her, Richard watched the scene below unfold like a bad dream. Misty dug in her forelegs at the edge of the bog. Unable to keep her seat, Kate pitched headlong into its dangerous swampy depths. Prince swerved to a stop at the bottom. Richard threw himself from the saddle, cursed his awkward leg and waded in after her. His boots sank deeper and deeper into the sucking, brown muck. Kate was face down and fighting to raise her head from the unforgiving bog.
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Chapter Nineteen Richard grabbed her legs, yanked her toward him, squeezed his hands around her waist, and flipped her over on her back. Coughing and spluttering, she tried to sit up. “Kate, don’t move or you’ll sink,” he yelled. He was up to his knees and struggling to find solid ground on the slimy, muddy bottom, “Kate! Listen to me! Lie still. I’ll get you out. I have to turn around. I’ll hold on to your legs, and drag you out. Do you understand? I have to drag you out.” She nodded, her head lurched to the side and she coughed up muddy water. He almost went down when his left leg buckled. He straightened up and spread her legs around him. To give him purchase on her boots, he wiped clammy ooze from his hands on the shoulders of his jacket, and fastened his hands around her ankles. Inching his way backward to the edge and safety, he stumbled, and lost his grip. “Richard!” If he turned around, his damned leg might give way and endanger them both. Wiping his hands again, he wrestled her mucky boots from the sucking bog. “Help. I’m sinking, my skirt’s pulling me under.” “Then I’ll damn well grab your skirt and your legs because I’m damned if I’m going to let my idiot companion die in the damned bog!” He wrenched her skirt over his arms, spread-eagled Kate’s booted legs around his waist and felt for firm ground with his good right foot. Black muck seeped into his boots. Muddy grit burned into his stump. Taking a deep breath, he dragged Kate free of the deadly, greedy bog, and dumped her on the path. “Why in the name of God did you do that? Racing down that damned hill like a bat out of hell. You could have died in that damned bog.” Fatigued, he dropped down beside her. Kate crawled away from him. Black water trailed behind her. “Now where the hell are you going? If you fall into the bog again, I’ll…” He bit back the tirade. Why was he yelling at her? She hadn’t known about the bog. Not trusting himself to stand, he crawled after her. “Kate. I’m sorry.” She inched around, and without a word crept into his arms, crept on to his lap. Her face was filthy, her golden hair matted with smelly ooze and her clothes sodden. She shivered, and huddled against his chest. “My own dearest Kate, you are safe now.” He could have lost her in that quagmire. Lost her forever. Life without his Kate? He rested his cheek on her messy hair. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”
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She whimpered, raised her head, rubbing dried muck from her eyelids, and opened teary eyes. “I’m sorry, Richard.” “It’s all right. You scared the hell out of me, that’s all.” A tired smile cracked her muddy lips. He kissed her. Even the mud tasted good. She sighed, closed her eyes, and huddled closer. Wet from her clothes seeped into his breeches. Soon he’d be soaked through. They’d have to move but for a few minutes, he’d let her rest. He liked the feel of her nestled in his arms. When her breathing steadied, he roused her. “Kate, listen carefully. We can’t stay here. Your clothes are soaked. I have to get you home and into a hot bath. Do you think you can walk or ride Misty? We’re but a mile or so from the manor.” She shifted on his lap, sat up and retched. Vomit splattered on his breeches. “I’m all shivery. Maybe if I walk, I’ll get warm.” She slid off his lap. “See if you can stand.” Weighed down by her bog-saturated clothes, she tottered to her feet. Richard forced himself up, and clamped his teeth together against the blistering pain biting into his stump. He’d not be able to walk far. Maybe Prince could carry both of them. “Kate, take off your jacket.” “My jacket?” “Yes, your jacket. Wear mine. It’s only damp where you leaned against me. You must keep warm.” “But what about you?” “Just do as you’re told! You’ve had a bad fall. I won’t be cold.” She picked at the buttons. “Help me with them. My fingers are sticky.” Any other time, he’d have been delighted to undress Kate, but not now. Fumbling with the tiny buttons, he worked them through the holes, and slipped the jacket from her shoulders. The gypsy amulet hung over her white silk shirt. “So this is your lucky charm.” He rested it on the palm of his hand. “You’re not to touch it.” She snatched it from him and thrust it under her shirt. What ailed her? Upset because he’d touched a bit of carved wood on a leather thong? “It’s not brought you much luck has it? Didn’t keep you from tumbling into the bog.” “That was my own fault. Don’t blame my amulet. It’s just something special to remind me of Riena when we were children.” He shrugged, and bundled her into his coat. Even now, his Kate had a ready reply. He rolled up the over long sleeves. “There. Now wrap it around you and keep warm.” “Mmm. It’s nice and cozy. I hope you won’t suffer.” Relieved to hear her sound reasonably normal, he whistled for the horses. Trying not to limp, he slipped his arm through hers. “I can’t walk too far nor can you in those wet boots.”
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Kate took a few steps and stopped, frowning. “Your leg is hurting, isn’t it?” “A little.” “It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” She stood on tiptoe, and kissed him. “Thank you for my life. You should have let your stupid companion sink.” He cupped her chin in his hands, and returned the kiss. “My companion is an idiot at times, but…” Prince trotted up and nudged him. “But what?” Kate asked, her blue eyes brilliant in her dirty face. “But I think I love her, even though I’ve aged years since she became my companion.” Kate rested her head on his chest. “Even though it’s been very difficult to put up with your ill humor, I think I love you. No doubt I have acquired a few gray hairs since daring to be your companion.” Had she meant it? That she loved him. Or was she blanking out the horror of the past minutes? Shock might be playing tricks with her. She’d come close to dying in that damned bog, and he’d come close to not wanting to live at the thought of losing her. “What shall we do about loving each other?” She backed away from him. “I don’t know.” Catherine’s knees wobbled and wondered what to say or do next. Her stomach churned. Was he teasing when he said he loved her? Why had she dared to say what was in her heart? Now he wanted her to answer an impossible question. What should they do about loving each other? If she said she’d be happy to marry him because Riena had foretold it, and they’d name their first girl after her, he’d fall about laughing. Why did he tease her so, making her so uncomfortable? He was betrothed. How could he love her when he was soon to wed? Lady Madeline was coming to Dolly’s party with her parents, no doubt to make final arrangements for the marriage. Did he want her for his mistress? The thought sickened her. He could not love her and Madeline. A sharp pain stabbed the back of her neck. She really felt awful, and Richard wasn’t helping, especially when he was looking at her in a particular way that made her all funny inside. “I don’t feel very well, but I think I can ride. Will you help me mount?” He held her hands. “I asked you a question, and you’ve not answered. What shall we do about loving each other?” “Do? We can’t do anything. You are betrothed and I’m your companion.” A roiling nausea gripped her stomach, and a fierce headache pounded behind her eyes. She gritted her teeth. She wanted to sit down and die quietly. “You love another?” “Please don’t tease me.” “I’m not teasing. Do you love someone else?”
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Sick with pain, she could not fathom his question. Why was he quizzing her? “I don’t know what you want. I’m sorry I said I loved you because I won’t ever say it again. I will not be your mistress when you marry your precious Lady Madeline. Please take me home. I’m sick and wet and shivery and tired.” He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Where did you get the ridiculous notion I wanted you for my mistress?” Unsteady on her feet, Catherine edged away from him, and squelched toward Misty. “What else can I think? You say you love me, but are promised to another. No honorable man would suggest such an arrangement and no decent young woman would agree. Will you inform your fiancée before your wedding of your intention to keep a mistress?” He came after her, turned her around, and held her at arm’s length, his dark eyes shooting sparks. “Now listen to me, Kate Thurston. Madeline and I made a foolish commitment before I went to war. She realizes it now, the same as I. We will settle matters between us when she comes down for the weekend of the party, then…” Something happened to Catherine’s legs. Everything went black. The path crumpled under her feet. She slumped to the ground, retching. Richard dropped down beside her and held her until the heaving stopped. “My poor Kate, I’ll take you home. Prince will carry both of us.” He drew her up. Keeping one arm firmly around her waist, he walked her to the horse. “I’ll mount first, then put your foot in the stirrup, and swing up behind me. Can you do that?” Catherine nodded. Tired to death, her head splitting apart, she waited for him to mount. “Give me your left hand. Put your foot in the stirrup.” Dazed, she leaned against Prince. “I can’t. My head hurts.” He stretched down, grasped her shoulder, and shook her. “Kate. Give me your hand!” He rapped out the order, and like a sleepwalker, she raised her arm. “Put your foot in the stirrup.” She slowly placed her left foot where he told her. He anchored his right boot in the offside stirrup, and using all his strength, heaved her up. Somehow, she managed to slide her legs astride the horse. “Put your arms around me!” Limp as a rag doll, she flopped against his back. “Kate!” She paid no attention. Alarmed at her lack of response, he grasped the reins in one hand, twisted back, and shoved his fingers under the waistband of her skirt. Holding tight, he kicked Prince into action. Misty trotted behind. Even with his horse walking slowly, he had a hard time hanging on to her. His arm ached from the strain. Blood seeped from the palm of his hand where it sawed back and forth against the buttons at her waist. Nearing the stables, Misty cantered on ahead. Pip Jones, out front cleaning tack, tossed his polish aside.
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“Mr. Parsons, come quick. Misty’s back without Miss Thurston.” He ran toward the mare. The head groom hurried from the stables. “What’s happened, milord?” Fatigued, sweat dripping into his eyes, Richard eased his stiff fingers from Kate’s waistband. She lurched sideways. He caught her before she slipped off the horse. “Get Tom and young Lennie out here. Tell them to fetch a blanket.” Parsons bellowed through the stable door. “Tom! Lennie! Fetch a blanket. On the double!” Richard wiped sweat from his eyes. “Parsons, you and Kip lift Miss Thurston down. Be careful. She’s been hurt.” They eased her limp body from behind him and lowered her to the ground. Dismounting quickly, he knelt beside her. Brown water dribbled from the side of her mouth. Her eyes were closed and her breathing ragged. “What happened to her, milord?” Tom asked. He and Lennie spread the blanket on the ground. “An accident. She fell in the bog and swallowed that filthy water.” He could hardly speak. Guilt ravaged him. He’d been teasing her about the amulet, and bullying her into saying she loved him and all the while she’d been trying to stay on her feet, and pretend she was fine. Then she’d collapsed. “Help me put her on the blanket. We’ll take her to the house.” That done, he turned to Pip. “Run on ahead. Find Mrs. Paige, our housekeeper. Have her alert Miss Thurston’s maid. Have her inform my mother there’s been an accident. Tom, saddle a horse and ride to the village. I want Dr. Bentley here as soon as possible. Parsons, you and Lennie assist me.” Ignoring his blistered stump, and his bloodied hand, he grasped two ends of the blanket by Kate’s head while Parsons and Lennie took hold of the ends by her feet. In a swaying walk, they started toward the house. “In the back door, Parsons. There are men in the kitchen area to help me. You’d better return to the stable and see to Prince and Misty.” Mrs. Paige waited by the open door. One look at Kate and she flew into action, giving orders. “Ben. Pip. Arly. Lewis. Come here!” They rushed from the kitchen into the back hall. “You’re to carry Miss Thurston up to her room, and mind how you go. I’ll start on ahead with Lord Glenmore.” She eyed Richard. “You’re tired, milord. Let these strong lads take over. I’ve sent Anna and two of the maids upstairs. They’ll see to Miss Thurston.” “Aye, I am a bit weary, Mrs. Paige.” Glad to be relieved by fresh arms, he limped up the back staircase with the housekeeper. “What happened, milord?” She threw open the door to the upstairs hallway, and held it for the men following with Kate. “A bad accident, Mrs. Paige. She was thrown from her horse, and fell into the bog.” 172
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The housekeeper gasped. “Not the black bog. Why it’s not long since one of the sheep went in there and never a trace did the shepherd find of it.” A dead sheep in the bog? He’d been shut up in his rooms and not heard this story. Fear gripped his heart. Why hadn’t he warned her about the bog? She wouldn’t have gone hell bent for leather down that damned hill if she’d known the danger. Kate had swallowed some of that muck. What if…what if she sickened and… She would not die! She had to live. Mrs. Paige hurried on ahead. “I’ve sent word to Lady Glenmore. I’ll make sure everything is ready for Miss Thurston and will remain with her to supervise the maids. Have you sent for the doctor, milord?” She opened the bathroom door. “One of the grooms has gone to fetch him.” He saw the men take Kate into the room. He wanted desperately to look after her, but that was out of the question. Idling outside his suite, he waited for the men to leave. “My lord.” Pickens tapped him on the shoulder. “You’d best come inside, and let me see to you.” He sagged against his valet. “You heard what happened?” “Yes, my lord. I’m right worried about her. She’s such a nice young lady. Always has a bright smile and a cheery word. Now sit you down and let me have those boots. They’re in a sorry state.” Tears blurred Richard’s eyes. He hadn’t cried since he was a child but was close to it now. He felt around for a handkerchief in his jacket pocket, but he had no jacket. He’d wrapped it around Kate. Freed of his boots, he bit back a sob, and stumbled into the bathroom. “Lay out my clothing, Pickens. I’m going to bathe.” He closed the door, and sat on the edge of the tub, head bowed. A few tears escaped and trickled down his cheeks. “Kate, my own love. You won’t leave me. I promise not to bully you again. Or tease you. Or do anything to hurt you.” He smiled through the salty tears, remembering how beautiful she’d looked that first time he had really seen her. Captured in a beam of sunlight, she’d stolen his heart. He dried his eyes, undressed, and tossed aside his clothes. They stank of bog and vomit. He ran water into the tub and sank into it, talking to himself. “So you see, Kate. You’re not to die.” He bit back the word. He wouldn’t think it. “You’re to cough up all that muck you swallowed and be ready for Dolly’s party next week. I want to waltz with you.” He examined his inflamed stump. Kate might be ready to dance but he might not. His artificial leg was a mess and would need a good cleaning. Until his stump healed, he’d use crutches. The hot water soothed him into feeling better. “Pickens!” His valet opened the bathroom door. “You called, milord.” “Go across, and ask after Miss Thurston.”
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He returned in minutes, his face pinched with concern. “Your mother is with her. Seems the young lady is not doing well.” Richard heaved out of the bath. “Fetch my crutches. I’m going to see her.” He hobbled into the bedroom and got dressed. “Pickens, take my soiled clothes away. I doubt if they can be salvaged. Have one of the kitchen lads clean up my damned leg.” Taking a few minutes to regain his composure he crossed the hall, and tapped on Kate’s door. Anna opened it. Her uniform sleeves were pushed above the elbows and her cap askew. “How is she?” “Not too good, milord. We’ve bathed her and put her to bed.” “May I see her?” Anna frowned. “I’ll have to ask your mother, milord.” “Ask her then.” God in heaven, why did the woman have to be so bloody formal? He didn’t intend to jump into bed with Kate. Anna turned on her heel. “My lady, his lordship is asking to see Miss Thurston.” “Come in, Richard.” His mother sat on a chair beside Kate’s bed. Tears glistened in her eyes. “She’s burning up with fever. There’s a basin with cold water on the table there. Fetch a wet cloth so I can wipe her face.” “Let me do it, Mother.” If all he could do was wring out cold cloths and wipe Kate’s face, then he wouldn’t leave her side. Sitting on her bed, he laid a cloth over her forehead, fetched another and very gently dabbed cool water on her cheeks. “Kate, my love.” She stirred and opened her eyes. “Richard?” “Yes, Kate.” She pushed the cloth off her forehead and frowned. “Why are you washing my face?” Relieved to hear her sound like her usual self, he dared to smile. She still had her wits about her. “I’m not washing your face. I’m cooling your skin. You have a fever.” His mother stood, and peered at Kate. “Thank goodness, she’s come round. Catherine, my dear, Dr. Bentley is on his way. How are you feeling?” She blinked at his mother, and stared, wide-eyed, at Richard. “I’m not sick. Why is the doctor coming? Why am I in bed?” Richard rested his hand on her forehead. “Don’t you remember falling in the bog? You’ve been vomiting bog water. I had to bring you home on Prince.” She squeezed her eyes tight. “It was my fault.” “You are not at fault, Catherine.” His mother perched on the bed beside Richard. “That bog should have been fenced years ago. You’ve had a shocking experience.
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Richard had no business taking you there. Now you are to rest until the doctor comes. He’ll know how to bring your fever down.” She tapped Richard on the shoulder. “Wring out another cloth. I’ll see to Catherine.” Amused at his mother blaming him for Kate’s accident, he wrung out a cloth, and gave it to her. Picking up his crutches he moved to the other side of the bed. Damned if he was going to leave until he knew Kate was all right. She was still flushed. “How are you feeling?” He sat beside her. His mother glanced at him, her eyes curious. “I’ve a pounding headache and my stomach hurts.” “What’s that, Miss Thurston?” Dr. Bentley rushed into the room, flung his hat on a chair and snapped open his bag. “Had an accident, have you? Let me have a look at you.” He bustled Richard out of the way. “Please leave us, my lord, while I examine the young lady.” Richard cast a look at Kate and left. He limped up and down the hallway, paused at Kate’s door, saw her maid go into her bathroom and emerge with Kate’s riding costume. “Anna.” She curtsied. “Yes, milord.” “I think Miss Thurston’s costume is ruined. Do you have a measuring tape?” She nodded. “Then measure her costume. The waist, shoulders, sleeves, length, whatever a dressmaker would require to make up a new riding costume for her.” He’d have one made to order in London. In blue, to match her eyes. “And measure her bonnet. She’ll require a proper hat.” “Very good, milord. I know what to do.” A smile cracked Anna’s usual somber face. “Is she on the mend, milord?” “I think so but she must rest.” He’d not think otherwise. Kate had to dance with him at Dolly’s party. Anna curtsied again. “I’m that pleased, milord. It gave me quite a turn when they brought her upstairs. I never thought to get her clean. Her pretty hair in such a state…” “Thank you, Anna.” She hurried away leaving him to his restless thoughts. Why was Bentley taking so long? Kate’s bones weren’t broken. She was conscious and talking. He propped himself against the wall opposite her door. And waited. Kate had stood there. When? Two nights ago? One? Her shimmering silk nightgown had clung to her breasts. Her golden hair had cascaded over her shoulders. Desire teased his loins. Her door opened. Bentley beckoned him in and motioned him over to Kate’s bed. “How long were you and Miss Thurston out in the sun today, my lord?” “Sun? Why several hours, I suppose. Why?”
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He fingered his watch chain. “She tells me she did not wear a hat. In my opinion, she is suffering from sunstroke. She has a very fair complexion and must be careful in the sun. I’ve given her a sleeping draught for her headache and a powder to bring the fever down. She should be fine after a day’s rest.” “But the bog water, Dr. Bentley. She swallowed some of that when she fell. Isn’t that why she’s sick?” The doctor’s lack of concern troubled Richard. “No, sir. It’s sunstroke but keep an eye on her. It might take a week or so for what she swallowed to make her sick. There’s filthy muck in bogs. No telling what’s in it. If she takes a bad turn send for me at once. I might have to give her an emetic to clear out the poisons or bleed her, if worst comes to worst.” Kate pushed herself up on one elbow. “Not leeches! I’d rather die than have them on me. Don’t let him do it, Richard!” He grasped her hands. “Kate, you’re going to be fine. No leeches, I promise. If Dr. Bentley wants to bleed you, I’ll take your place. Seeing leeches sucking away at me will cheer you up.” “Lord Glenmore, this is no laughing matter. If bleeding is required, then I will bleed her.” Dr. Bentley snapped the lock on his black bag. Richard winked at Kate and she smiled back. No leeches, he mouthed. “Miss Thurston will sleep now. Have her maid stay with her. She’ll be thirsty when she wakens.” The doctor picked up his hat. “Good afternoon, Lady Glenmore. Lord Glenmore.” He bowed stiffly. “I’ll see myself out.” Richard sat on the chair his mother had vacated. “I’ll stay with her.” “No, that would not be proper. Anna will return in a few minutes.” He glanced at Kate. She seemed asleep. Her eyes were closed and her breathing regular. “Then I shall sit with Anna to be here when Kate wakens.” His mother studied him. “What is between you and Catherine? What does this ‘Kate, my love’ mean? I heard you say that. Have you compromised her?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Surely you don’t think I’d harm her? Kate is a teasing name I’ve given her.” “Really, I don’t know what to think. Catherine is a beautiful young lady, and I am responsible for her wellbeing. You and Dolly vie for her attention like a pair of…” Smiling, she rested one hand on Richard’s shoulder. “No, you are not like that…you are both perfect gentlemen.” Anna hurried into the room. “I’ve come to stay with Miss Thurston, milady.” Knowing better than to embarrass his mother by insisting on sitting with Kate, Richard stood. “I’ll be in my rooms, Anna. If Miss Thurston wakens, inform me at once.” “Yes, milord.” His mother linked her arm through his and walked with him to his suite. “I’ve not finished what I have to say.” 176
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He settled her in a comfortable chair, and lounged on the window seat. Sunshine warmed his back. “Well, Mother?” “It’s about you, Dolly and Catherine. You are betrothed so it has to be Dolly.” Richard frowned, wondering what his mother was trying to say. “What has to be Dolly? “I hope you won’t think me silly, but I’ve become very fond of Catherine, and would welcome her as a daughter if she were to marry Dolly.” “Marry Dolly?” A tight band clamped around Richard’s chest. “Has he spoken to you?” “Of course not. You’re head of the family. He’d come to you first.” She leaned forward. “Don’t you think she’d make a splendid wife for him? He is very fond of her. I can tell by the way he gazes at her.” Throwing caution to the winds, Richard cleared his throat. “I am very fond of her, as well and agree with you, she’d be a splendid wife.” His mother rose to her feet. “I’m much easier in my mind now we’ve had this little talk. I know you care for Catherine. How could you help it? She’s a sweet, lovely young lady.” She paused at the door. “When Dolly returns home will you ask him what his intentions are? Make opportunities for them to be alone together. And, Richard, it might be unwise for you to refer to her as ‘Kate, my love’, especially in Dolly’s hearing. He might find it offensive.” His mother swept out the door, leaving him stunned. He was supposed to act as a marriage broker between Dolly and Kate. Arrange trysts. Force Dolly to declare himself. Damned if he would. Let Dolly manage his own affairs, he’d not lend a hand. He sank into a soft chair. If Dolly hadn’t declared his intentions before the party, he’d be free to ask Kate to be his wife. Free, that is, when he and Madeline agreed their betrothal had been a mistake, and informed their parents. Until then, he’d bide his time.
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Chapter Twenty Catherine sat on the terrace holding her sketching pad. She’d tried to concentrate on her work, but worries about Riena intruded. Five days had passed since she’d boarded the London train with Dolly and he hadn’t returned. What if her husband had tracked them down, and taken Dolly by surprise? The man hadn’t come back to haunt them with his horrible rattling gourd and dead crow. Even a man as big and strong as Dolly might fall victim to a surprise knife attack. And Riena? No. She’d not fall prey to her fears and tried to put them out of her mind. To think of something else. To think of someone else. She’d seen little of Richard since her accident. Busy on estate business, he inquired about her health first thing in the morning and after dinner at night. “Useless,” she muttered aloud. “I’m useless to him.” Again and again, Catherine asked herself why she stayed on at Glenmore Manor. He was unfailingly polite, teased her a little, but never asked her to meet him in his study or to stroll around the grounds. Yet whenever she suggested leaving, he insisted she remain. Why? Snippets of memory danced like restless butterflies around the edges of thought not lingering long enough for her to capture them. Mostly at night, just as she was dropping off to sleep something from the day of the accident popped into her mind. Always the same snippet teased her. Richard had said he loved her. An impossible dream probably caused by sunstroke. She remembered little of that day except the horror of falling into the bog, and Richard dragging her to safety. Her riding habit, beyond salvaging, had been burned with the trash. Catherine sighed. For the remainder of her stay at the manor, she wouldn’t be riding Misty or any other horse. She retied the ribbons of the big straw hat Lady Glenmore insisted she wear when she ventured outdoors on sunny days. Lady Glenmore and Edward fussed over her. Morning, noon and night, they asked how she was feeling. The bog water she’d swallowed might make her ill, and Catherine was told to report any symptom, no matter how insignificant. A familiar sound notched her heart up a beat. She recognized his footsteps. The tap of his cane. Hoping not to look overwhelmingly pleased to see him, she turned, and smiled. “Good afternoon, Richard.” He carried a large, paper-wrapped box, and a smaller, square one, on top. “Good afternoon, Kate. I’ve something for you.”
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“For me?” He removed her sketchpad, and handed her a large box. She studied the script on the upper left-hand corner. Amott, Brothers. No.’s 62 & 63 St. Paul’s Churchyard, London. And there was her name, neatly lettered, and addressed to her at Glenmore Manor. Amott, Brothers meant nothing to her. “What is in it?” Richard pulled up a chair, and sat beside her. “If you keep staring at it, you’ll never know. Let me break the string.” Bewildered by his sudden appearance with two mysterious packages, her silly heart danced a jig in her chest. When Catherine removed the wrapping she discovered another box inside. A blue box with Amott, Brothers, scrolled in gold lettering across the top. Fingers shaking, she removed the lid. Inside…she held her breath. Something made of blue velvet. “What is it?” He lifted out a riding jacket cut in the latest military fashion. Brass buttons down the front and gold braided epaulets at the shoulder. “Since you insisted on tumbling into the bog, and ruined your riding habit, I decided you must have a new one. There’s a split skirt for you to ride astride and a silk shirt.” Like a conjurer, he opened the smaller box, and handed her a black riding hat. “There, that’s to save you from sunstroke.” “But, I can’t accept.” “This is a gift from Mother, Edward and me. You must accept it or hurt our feelings.” Tears threatened. She lowered her gaze and willed herself not to cry. She’d not embarrass Richard by weeping. “Hold up the skirt, and tell me if you like it.” Like someone in a dream, she obeyed. “It’s so beautiful. Who chose the color? I thought maroon was all the fashion for ladies riding in London parks.” “I chose it. I knew maroon would not suit you as well as blue, so blue it had to be.” Frowning, he gazed up at her. “Don’t you like it?” “I love it but isn’t the color a bit light? Won’t it dirty quickly?” Why was she asking such stupid questions? He leaned back, and chuckled. “Only if you keep falling off your horse into bogs.” She folded the skirt into the box and, her legs unsteady, perched on the arm of her chair. “How did you know my size?” “I asked Anna to measure your old costume, and the inside of your straw bonnet. I sent the measurements up to Sam Amott, ordered the color and material I wanted, and told him to set his seamstresses to work. It arrived by the afternoon post.” “You did all that without me knowing. How can I ever thank you?” “Just smile and say thank you.” Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thank you, Richard. You chose well.”
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“Try on the hat. I want to know if it fits properly. Don’t want you fainting again.” He handed it to her. Catherine’s fingers, all thumbs, fiddled the ribbons under her chin, tangling them into a knot. “Can you untie these?” “Stand up then so I can see what I’m doing.” On his feet, he clasped her hands, and drew her up. Savoring his nearness, she watched his face while he concentrated on the knot. “There.” He removed the wide-brimmed straw hat and tossed it aside. Rooted to the spot, Catherine’s legs refused to move. “I’ve missed you.” His hand drifted up, touched her cheek, and tucked a curl behind her ear. “I’ve been neglecting the estate, and have had to spend hours with my steward planning the work, discussing the men we’ll have to hire.” He paused. “I’ve missed you, too, my dear.” Although warning blushes warmed her cheeks, Catherine could not stop asking, “Will you kiss me?” “Kiss you?” “I would like you to kiss me.” Her cheeks must be flaming crimson. “Kate, you don’t know what you’re asking.” “I know exactly what I’m asking. I’m asking you to kiss me.” Had she lost her wits? Lost all her common sense. Begging him to kiss her. He cupped her chin in his hands. His eyes, dark and unfathomable, gazed into hers. “This is not a good idea.” “You kissed me after I fell in the bog. Was it a good idea then?” Embarrassed, Catherine clamped the riding hat on her head. “That was different. You could have died there. I didn’t want to lose you.” “So you kissed me back to life.” He dropped his hands and grinned at her. “You could say that.” Wishing a lightning bolt had struck her down before she’d tried to force him to kiss her, Catherine gathered up her straw hat, sketch book, and the box with her riding habit. “But you did call me your love after you rescued me. I didn’t dream that. I just thought…I thought I’d like you to kiss me again.” Turning on her heel, she ran across the terrace, dashed through the French doors into the ballroom, sidestepped a maid carrying a tray of wineglasses, and shot across the entrance hall, up the stairs, and reached the safety of her room. She locked the door and leaned against it to catch her breath. What had she done? Spoiled everything between them. She could not look him in the face ever again. Not after begging him to kiss her. And he’d refused! That was the worst part.
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She’d fall ill. Stomach pains. Headache. Insist on returning home to her mother. She’d miss Dolly’s party, but that was fine since she had nothing appropriate to wear, and would not appear wearing one of her companion dresses. Dolly had not returned, and his party was in two days. Overnight guests were expected to arrive tomorrow. Maids had been scurrying up and downstairs with fresh linens, preparing the rooms in the north wing. Catherine hung up her beautiful new riding habit. She’d never be able to wear it. Why take it to London when she didn’t own a horse? “Kate, come back!” Richard called after her, but she hadn’t heard or pretended not to. He’d hurt her. Why? She’d asked him to kiss her. That was all. A simple kiss. And he’d refused, because kissing Kate was not simple. One kiss would lead to another, and another and within minutes, seconds even, he’d be telling her he loved her that he wanted to marry her, wanted her to bear his children…three, possibly four. No more than four. Not given to dreaming of impossible futures, he replaced it with an immediate problem. How was he to make her understand his dilemma without saying anything more to distress her? He’d be welcoming party guests tomorrow. There’d be little time to speak with her alone. And where the hell was Dolly? If he’d been here, none of this would have happened. Dolly would have been keeping her company. He stalked off the terrace and met his mother in the entrance hall. “I have had a letter from Dolly by the afternoon post. He’s coming in on the evening train. Will you arrange for a carriage to pick him up? I have to speak with Mrs. Paige about which guests should go where.” She raised her brows. “What happened to the two packages addressed to Catherine? Did you give them to her?” He nodded. “Yes. I’ll arrange for Dolly’s carriage.” He put one foot on the first step hoping to escape further questions. “I’m curious. Catherine has very little money, and the large box came from Amott, Brothers, a very expensive establishment.” A wry smile on his lips, he shook his head. “You look exactly as you used to when I was a lad trying to pull the wool over your eyes. I ordered a new riding habit for her and a hat. It was my fault she fell in the bog, and ruined her clothing.” “I am surprised Catherine accepted clothing from you.” “I told her it was a gift from you, Edward and me, and she had to accept or hurt our feelings.” “Really, you might have told me. I would have advised you on style and color.” She tilted her head. “What color did you choose?” “Blue. Blue suits her.” “Was she pleased?” Pleased enough to ask me to kiss her. But he didn’t say that. “She was very pleased. I may ask her to ride with me after tea.”
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His mother brightened. “Why not ride to Abbeyleigh with the carriage, and meet Dolly’s train? I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see her.” He shrugged and started upstairs. “I’m sure he will. I’ll ask her.” But what if Kate refused to speak to him? Walking slowly along the hallway, he planned his approach. Knock on her door. Ask to see her. She’d open it, glaring at him, no doubt. Kate, he’d say. I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you… No, that didn’t sound right. She might say, kiss me now. It would be just like her. Hands on her hips, daring him—he’d kiss her and to hell with Dolly and Madeline. He’d sweep her into his arms and… He stopped at her door and knocked. “Who is it?” “Richard.” “Go away. I do not wish to speak with you.” “Kate.” “Don’t call me, Kate! Call me Catherine.” “Catherine, open up so I don’t have to yell. I’ve something to say to you.” The key turned in the lock, and she opened the door. Chin held high, her eyes wide, she stared at him. “What do you wish to say?” “I’m sorry.” He drew in a deep breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you. I wanted to, but kissing you is risky.” “Risky?” Her mouth softened into a slight smile. “I’m betrothed. Until that changes, I’d rather not kiss you.” He gripped one hand on his cane, the other in a tight fist to stop from dragging her in his arms and letting all hell break loose. “Changes?” she asked. “I can’t answer that. Not now.” He was making a fine mess of this conversation, and shifted away from danger. “By the way, Mother asked how you liked your riding habit. I said you loved it. She suggested you and I ride over to Abbeyleigh after tea. I’m ordering a carriage to meet Dolly. He’s coming on the evening train. He’ll be pleased to see you.” “And I’m anxious for him to return. I’ve been worried about him and Riena.” “Then we’ll ride to Abbeyleigh. You’ll dazzle him in your new habit.” He tempted fate, and clasped her hand. “And dazzle me, as well.” She withdrew her hand. “I won’t dazzle you. You are impervious to dazzle.” And very quietly closed the door and very quietly locked it. Catherine held her breath. If he knocked again she’d refuse to see him. She had to think. Why was it risky to kiss her? Did he fear compromising her in some way? Perhaps that was it. And what did he mean by changes to his betrothal? Had Lady 182
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Madeline urged him to set a marriage date? She puzzled over the woman he’d promised to marry. Except for one visit, she hadn’t set foot at Glenmore manor. If she were betrothed to Richard, she’d spend every waking hour with him. And the night hours? Wickedly sinful thoughts danced in her head. Lie with him before they married? Silly girl, she scolded and bathed for tea. But the wicked thoughts persisted as she dressed. She buttoned up the collar of her gray dress. It reminded her of her role as his companion, and a modicum of composure returned. She heard him leave his room, waited awhile, and then made her way downstairs. He must not guess her wicked thoughts. Before leaving the table after tea, Lady Glenmore unfolded two long sheets of paper and spread them on the cloth. “I have the guest list for the party. So far seventy people have accepted. Thirty of our London friends will stay the night. I’ve arranged rooms in the north wing.” She turned to Richard. “I’ve put Sir Arthur and Lady Fairfax in one of the suites. I thought you and Madeline might like to meet there to make plans.” “Madeline Fairfax?” The words escaped before Catherine could stop them. “I didn’t know she was your Lady Madeline, Richard.” “You know her?” he asked. Catherine swallowed hard. “She’s older than I, and one of the reigning London beauties. I didn’t move in her set.” In fact, Madeline Fairfax had cut her more than once as though she were an insect, not worthy of her smiles. Catherine remembered some gossip she’d heard. Madeline didn’t have a disposition to match her lovely face. Her maid had told another maid who’d told another maid, who’d told the maid of a friend of Catherine’s that Madeline Fairfax had a fierce temper. Threw dishes at the wall when she was angry. Kicked her maid when the water wasn’t right for her toilette. Screamed at her parents. Poor Richard. Why was he betrothed to a beautiful harridan? She’d make his life a misery. What was the saying? A devil in the house. A saint outside. Richard stood. “Thank you for arranging a meeting place, Mother. Madeline and I have much to discuss.” He drew out Catherine’s chair. “You had better change. The train is due in forty minutes. I’ve ordered the horses saddled.” He walked up the stairs with her. “Kate, what was that about?” “What do you mean?” “The look on your face when you realized you knew Madeline?” “What look?” She played for time to arrange her thoughts. “You don’t like her, do you?” “I don’t know her very well, and it doesn’t matter whether I like or dislike her. You are marrying her, not me.” She tried not to sound like a shrew, but she felt very shrewish. 183
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“Thank you. You’ve told me what I want to know.” Catherine opened her bedroom door. “Then don’t ask me another question about Madeline Fairfax. I’ll avoid meeting her while she’s here.” “That’s not possible. You’ll be dining with us, attending the party and dancing.” Catherine angled through the door. “I won’t be at the party nor will I meet your guests.” “You will!” He grasped her arm, and pulled her toward him. “I want you there.” She stiffened. “I’m your paid companion. Is that how you will introduce me? I may know other of your London friends. They will have a wonderful time spreading gossip about me in London. I don’t care, but my mother will be shamed.” “Do you think me such an insensitive boor? You’ll be introduced as a friend of the family. Mother and I have discussed this. She already thinks of you as the daughter she never had.” “But my clothes? I’ve nothing fashionable.” “You are beautiful no matter what you wear.” He grasped her fingers and kissed the tips. “Smile your dazzling smile and no one will notice your clothes.” Catherine knew he was wrong. Men did not notice, but every woman in the room would. “I’d better change or we’ll miss Dolly.” Dressed in her new blue habit, Catherine admitted that she did look very smart— fashionable from head to toe. The military cut suited her. She swaggered around her bedroom, enjoying the swishy soft feel of the velvet. Richard knocked. “Are you ready?” “Coming.” She settled the hat on her head, hurried across the room, and opened the door. “What do you think? Did you choose well?” He eyed her up and down. “I’ll say this once, maybe twice, maybe several times before the evening is over. You are absolutely stunning. When we ride with our guests, the men will be fighting over who rides beside you. Who helps you mount. Who helps you dismount. It will be a circus. Watch their hands, though. Tell me if one of them takes liberties.” Catherine giggled. “If someone takes liberties, I shall whack them with my riding crop.” “That’s my Kate. Come we’d best be on our way.” The ride to the station through the soft, evening air entranced her. Feeling very queen-like, she thought every flower nodded as she passed. Every bird sang for her to see and hear. Meeting Madeline Fairfax was for tomorrow. This evening was for her to enjoy with Richard and Dolly. He assisted her to dismount and held her a trifle longer than necessary. He savored the feel of her waist in his hands. A stab of jealousy reared its ugly head. He’d make sure none of the young bucks made her uneasy by too obvious flirting.
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As they waited for the train, he wondered how Dolly would react when he saw her. The blue velvet simply made her more glorious. More desirable. Kate’s opinion of Madeline did not trouble him unduly since marriage to Madeline was out of the question. Even before he’d fallen in love with Kate, he’d known the betrothal was wrong. Madeline had suitors by the dozen waiting in the wings. Perhaps she’d bestow her favor on one of the men invited to the party. The train whistled, and screeched to a stop. In one smooth motion, Dolly threw open the carriage door, dropped his valise on the platform, leapt from the train, gathered Catherine in his arms, and kissed her. “How splendid you look. Is this a new outfit for the party?” He held her at arm’s length. “You will drive every woman wild with envy.” Delighted to see him, she hugged him back. “You must not turn my head with your compliments, but I’m glad you like my new habit. Richard chose it.” Richard grasped Dolly’s hand. “Good to have you back. I expected you sooner.” Dolly threw his arm over his brother’s shoulder, and walked between him and Catherine to the waiting carriage. “Riena had a little trouble booking her passage. Seems one of the chaperones traveling with the group suspected she was a gypsy. So next day, I trotted along with her, posed as her brother, gave them a piece of my mind, and threatened to speak to the church authorities if my dear sister, Rose, had further trouble.” Catherine chuckled. “I can imagine how you enjoyed that.” Dolly climbed into the carriage, and put his valise on the floor. “Riena and I went about the shops for two days for her to buy trinkets, ribbons, and the like to sell in Victoria. I advised her to pick out items for men, as well, and helped her make appropriate choices.” Richard helped Catherine to mount, then climbed into the saddle. “Dolly, I’m taking Prince for a run. Catherine will keep you company on the way home. I’ll see you at dinner.” He waved and left. The coachman turned the carriage around. Dolly poked his head out. “What’s wrong with him? He looks cranky as an old bear.” Catherine shook her head. “Tired, I think. He’s been very busy with estate business.” Dolly grinned at her. “I’ll wager he’s not looking forward to seeing Madeline tomorrow, not when he has you as his companion.” “Never mind Madeline Fairfax. How was Riena when you saw her off?” Dolly beamed. “Splendid. Nervous, of course, but she fitted right in with the other young women boarding the bride ship. Some were a sorry-looking lot. Probably out of charity homes. They needed good food to put meat on their bones.” Chatting happily about Riena, Catherine was surprised to arrive at the manor gates so quickly. Richard had disappeared.
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Riding Misty around to the stable, she was pleased to have young Lennie hold the mare’s head while she dismounted. He removed his cap, and tucked it under his arm. “Glad to see you better, Miss. It gave me a right turn when Lord Glenmore brought you home.” “Thank you, Lennie. Will you see to Misty?” He bobbed his head, blushing under his freckles. “Yes, Miss.” She walked quickly toward the house. Why had Richard dashed off like that? It wasn’t like him to be so cool toward Dolly. They were genuinely fond of each other. Puzzling over Richard’s behavior, she heard the clatter of a horse coming toward her, and stepped off to one side. Richard reined in Prince. “Didn’t Dolly come to the stable with you? I’m surprised he let you out of his sight.” Taken aback at his gruff tone, Catherine stared at him. “I don’t understand. Why would he come to the stable when he was anxious to see your mother? He went straight indoors.” “But you’ll be meeting him later.” “What is the matter with you? Of course I will meet him later. So will you, your mother and Edward. Why did you dash off like that at the station? Dolly expected a friendlier greeting from you.” “He seemed more interested in you. I thought I should leave you two alone. You hadn’t seen each other for five days.” “And neither had you. This is ridiculous. Dolly and I talked all the way home about Riena. I thought you might have been the slightest bit interested in what happened to her, but you had to dash off on your own—did not have time to greet your brother.” Thoroughly disgusted with him, she walked away. Prickly as ever, he’d hinted something was wrong, but just like him, did not say right out what it was. She paused, turned on her heel, and caught up with him before he reached the stable. He had to stop doing this to her. “Richard, if I have wronged you in some way or said something to upset you, will you please tell me what it is? You are angry with me and I don’t know why.” “I’m not angry with you.” He removed his hat and thrust his fingers through his hair. “I’ve a lot on my mind right now, and shouldn’t be taking my ill humor out on you and Dolly.” Catherine breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, next time you’re out of sorts, warn me, and I’ll go into hiding.” “That’s not like my Kate. She’d stay and fight.” His mouth relaxed into a teasing smile. “Come along to the stable with me. You can tell me about Riena on the way back to the house.”
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Chapter Twenty-One Catherine tossed and turned during the night. The coming day loomed over her like a black cloud. She didn’t look forward to meeting Madeline Fairfax. Not because she was betrothed to Richard, although that pained her, but she might not believe the story Lady Glenmore had concocted to account for Catherine’s presence in the house. While they had drunk coffee in the library after dinner, Lady Glenmore had sought to put Catherine at ease. “I shall tell anyone who asks that your father and my husband had business interests at one time and our families became acquainted. When I heard you’d been feeling poorly, I asked you down to spend a month or two in the countryside to regain your health.” “If anyone quizzes you about the family connection, and your imagination fails, I will come to the rescue.” Dolly thought it would be great fun to act as her knight in shining invisible armor. Catherine had her doubts, especially where Madeline Fairfax was concerned. She’d not take kindly to Catherine being a houseguest. Many of the Londoners coming to the party were familiar to her, but she had lost touch with most of them since her father’s death. Richard’s quiet encouragement had stemmed some of her fears. “You’ll be fine. Our friends are too well-mannered to question Mother.” Even Edward volunteered to be her constant escort. “If need be, I shall hover at your side.” With all their promised help, she’d manage. She wakened early puzzling over what to wear. Madeline and her parents would arrive in time for luncheon. A first impression was important. Catherine sorted through her wardrobe, and decided on a white silk, long-sleeved blouse, and her gray silk skirt. Tempted to fling Riena’s shawl over her shoulders, she opted instead for the one Richard had given her in the box room. Emerald green silk shot with gold thread, it did wonders for her simple outfit. Her stomach in knots, she had breakfast in her room and spent the morning reading on the balcony. Trying to read, that is, since her ears were tuned to sounds of carriage wheels. At twelve o’clock, she bathed her face, tidied her hair and made her way to the terrace for drinks before luncheon. Dolly and Edward greeted her. “You look splendid, Catherine.” Dolly clasped her hands. “Not nervous, are you?” “Yes I am.” “Have a drink to bolster your courage.” He handed her a glass of sherry. 187
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She sipped the brave-making drink. “Has Richard gone to meet the train?” Dolly nodded and gloom descended on her. Would he be kissing Madeline the way he’d kissed her after he’d rescued her from the bog? Her memory had returned. She even remembered him saying he loved her. But maybe she’d dreamed that or begun to hallucinate from the pounding headache. Edward patted a place beside him on the love seat. “Come here by me until Richard returns. I’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ears, and you’ll be all silly and giggly when our guests arrive.” She was neither when Lady Glenmore escorted Sir Arthur and Lady Fairfax onto the terrace followed by Madeline and Richard, her arm tucked possessively through his. Little green jealousy devils danced behind Catherine’s eyes. With a supreme effort, she forced a smile. Lady Glenmore introduced Catherine with the consummate skill of an actress. Totally in control of the story she even had Catherine half-believing it was true. Madeline looked her up and down, appraising every stitch of clothing for flaws. “Why, Catherine, how pleasant to see you again. I am sorry we’ve lost touch. She is looking very well, is she not, Richard?” The sherry had gone straight to Catherine’s head. “I am extremely well, Madeline, and have regained my health. Richard and I have had splendid times together. Why just the other day, we rode for miles over the estate, and had to shelter from a storm in a shepherd’s hut. He had brought a picnic lunch so we stayed there until the storm passed.” She batted her lashes at him. “He is so sweet and thoughtful. He remembered to bring wine but forgot the goblets. We had to pass the bottle back and forth, but he cheated, and drank more than I did. That was such fun, was it not, Richard?” He raised his brows. “Indeed, but you had more than enough to make you unsteady. You very nearly fell off your horse on the way home.” Madeline’s mouth froze in a tight line. If looks could kill, Catherine would have died instantly. And died happily. She’d bested Madeline at her own game. Dolly stepped into the breach and held out his hand. “I’m Randall. We met very briefly in London.” Madeline shifted her attention to Dolly. “I regret not spending more time with you, Randall. Do you not visit the city often?” “I’ve been serving in India for the past three years and find the London scene stifling.” In full flirtatious mode, she concentrated on Dolly. “Tell me about India, Randall. I’ve always longed to visit exotic places.” Taking his arm, she walked him to side by side chairs, and settled down to charm him into submission. Richard refilled Catherine’s sherry glass while his mother introduced Edward to her guests. With practiced ease, he cupped his hand under her elbow, and moved her away from the others.
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“What was that about, Kate?” She gazed at him over the rim of her glass. “Your Madeline gave me such a look. I could not resist adding to the story.” “What kind of look? I thought she was being very agreeable, all things considered. Finding a beautiful houseguest in residence must have come as a surprise.” Catherine sipped a little sherry. Mindful that alcohol loosened her tongue she set the glass on a table. She didn’t want to upset Richard and spoil the day for him. “I’m sorry. I really wanted to…” She’d tell the truth. Well part of the truth. “I really wanted to put her in her place because she cut me several times in London. I was not part of her set, and did not want to be part of her set. They were older than me and…” She’d gone too far. “I’m sorry. I’ll not embarrass you again.” He picked up the glass she’d set aside, and drained it. “It’s not like you to bear a grudge. You really do not like Madeline, do you?” Catherine lowered her gaze. “Is it that obvious?” “To me. I don’t think the others noticed.” “Then I promise to like her.” She raised her eyes to find him smiling at her. “Kate, you are such a delight. No more stories, please. Do not take Madeline too seriously. She means well, I am sure.” Catherine swallowed that with a grain of salt. From what she’d heard about Madeline Fairfax, she meant well to no one but herself. How could Richard love her? The butler stepped on to the terrace. “Luncheon is served, my lord.” Catherine joined in the casual conversation around the table and tried not to care when Richard gave his attention to Madeline. “Will you be riding in the afternoon?” Catherine asked him diverting him in her direction. “I’ve business to attend to, but I’m sure Dolly would enjoy your company.” “Dolly?” Madeline frowned. “Who is Dolly?” “Why Randall, of course. We all call him Dolly. It’s a family pet name—goes back forever. Is that not so, Dolly?” Catherine bit back a smile. Another direct hit at Madeline. “I do love pet names.” Madeline gazed around the table. “My parents used to call me their little princess, but I begged them to stop when I turned fourteen. Father insists I’ll always be his princess.” Sir Arthur peered across the table at his daughter. “What’s that you say about a princess, Maddy?” “Poor Papa,” Madeline cooed. “The train journey has tired him. He’ll need to rest after luncheon.”
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Dolly turned to Catherine. “I’d be pleased to ride with you. Will you join us, Madeline?” Had he been closer, Catherine would have kicked him under the table. “Thank you, Randall, but I expect to spend the afternoon with Richard.” Catherine’s heart sank into her shoes. They’d be discussing their marriage. And if she did not mind her manners, Richard would turn against his rude companion. With luncheon over, Catherine donned her riding habit and rode out with Dolly. She’d managed to cope well with the most difficult guest, Madeline. Her parents were very pleasant. Sir Arthur had courteous manners and Lady Fairfax, a faded beauty, had flirted outrageously with Edward. Richard asked Madeline to join him in his study. He envied Dolly going off with Kate, but he’d not rest easy until he’d settled the betrothal problem with Madeline. She sank into a chair. “Well, Richard?” She picked up a copy of Punch, flipped through it, and tossed it aside. He propped his elbow on the mantel. “I’ll be honest with you, Madeline. I know you’d expect that. I think our betrothal was a mistake. My fault, I rushed you into it before leaving for the Crimea.” “And you want to marry someone else. Is that it? Your pretty little houseguest, perhaps?” Richard did not like Madeline’s tone or bringing Kate into the discussion. “No, I’ll not be marrying, and find your reference to Miss Thurston discourteous. We are discussing our relationship.” She thinned her lips in a tight smile. “It’s not been much, has it? You holed up in the country when I particularly wanted you to stay in London as my escort.” “I have told you often enough, I do not care for city life. I’ve put my London house in the hands of an estate agent. I expect it to be sold within the month.” “You’ll have no residence in town?” “I’ve leased a suite of rooms in the Breckenridge. Mother enjoys a visit to the city, and I might stay there from time to time when I have to consult my banker or solicitor.” Madeline raised her brows. “You don’t expect me to live here, do you? I’d die of boredom in the country.” “When we marry, this is where we’ll live. My work is here.” “Then you’ll have to live without me.” She stood, and walked over to him. “If this is your final word, then I will speak to Father. He’ll put a notice in the Times to inform our friends of the change.” “I’m sorry, Madeline. I hope you’re not too disappointed.” Her eyes brightened. “Not in the least. There are beaux aplenty in London anxious to replace you in my affections.” “Then let us enjoy Dolly’s party. Save me a dance or two.”
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“Can you dance with that? With that artificial thing?” She stared at his feet. Richard gritted his teeth. “I’m damn well going to try.” With as courteous a manner as he could muster, he escorted her to the drawing room and left her with his mother and other ladies. Returning to the study, he closed the door. Brandy decanter in hand, he poured a good measure into a crystal glass and sipped slowly. Little by little, he regained his composure. Shocked by her cruel remark about his leg, he wondered why he’d been so blind to her faults. She’d irritated him in so many ways, but honorable fool that he was, he’d planned to go through with the marriage and make the best of it. After falling in love with his beautiful companion he knew he could not survive a loveless marriage with Madeline. He drained the glass and leaned back in his chair. It was quiet here. He’d stay awhile longer before returning to his guests. Kate wasn’t with them, she was off riding with Dolly. “Well, Catherine, what do you think of Madeline?” Dolly asked. After an hour’s fast ride they’d dismounted by the swan lake and sat on the hillside enjoying the sight of a mother swan and her seven cygnets. “I don’t think anything. She’s betrothed to Richard. What I think is of no concern.” Dolly fell backward on the grassy slope and burst out laughing. “Come now, be honest, I’ll not tell a soul.” Catherine drew up her knees, and rested her chin on them. “I don’t know her very well. She’s reputed to have a wicked temper. She visited once when I first came here. I never met her, only heard her voice when she scolded Richard for not coming up to London. Truth to tell, I did not like the way she spoke to him. I wondered why she didn’t stay here and keep him company. Then your mother would not have had to hire me.” She poked a finger in Dolly’s ribs. “Now what is your opinion of her?” “Can’t abide the woman. I think she and Richard may come to a parting of the ways while she’s here.” Catherine gazed at him. “I thought they’d be planning their wedding.” “I doubt it. Richard knows their betrothal was a mistake. He hopes to convince Madeline to free him. She’s made it clear she will not live at the manor. A real party animal is Madeline. London is where she belongs, not here.” Hardly able to contain her joy, Catherine jumped to her feet. “Come, let’s ride on, and see the bog where I nearly met a sticky end.” Richard had kissed her there, and unless she dreamed it, had said he loved her. Her memory of the accident had dimmed but if he and Madeline broke their engagement then… What if Riena was right? Catherine shivered thinking about it. Thinking about their baby daughter…Lady Riena. 191
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Dolly led the way since she’d no idea how to find the bog. They approached by a different track, not down the steep hill. Catherine reined in Misty. “It’s been fenced in.” “Aye, last night. Richard told me about your accident and said he’d had the bog fenced. You scared him half to death and he doesn’t scare easily. He thought he’d lost you.” Feeling all warm and loved, Catherine turned Misty toward home. “Let’s go back. I want to thank him for the fence.” But she’d no time. When they returned to the manor, more guests had arrived, and he was too busy to pay her much attention. Many were county people come from a fair distance to spend two nights at the manor. Introduced all round while still in her riding habit, she could not help but notice the admiring glances cast her way by both old and young men. After tea, Glenmore carriages rolled to Abbeyleigh station for guests arriving from London. Catherine avoided meeting them until just before dinner when drinks were served in the drawing room. A few of the new arrivals were familiar to Catherine from when her father was alive and she, a wealthy heiress. They’d dined at her home. One or two of the young men, now married, had sought her hand, but soon dropped her when they learned she had no dowry. They’d married well, she supposed, not recognizing their wives. Lady Glenmore’s story about Catherine’s connection to the family was not questioned, not even by a raised eyebrow or a quizzical glance. After dinner, a tired-looking woman from one of the county families sought her out when the gentlemen retreated to the library for coffee and brandy, and the women to the music room. “You are uncommonly pretty, Miss Thurston. My husband has an eye for a pretty girl like you. He tends to flirt, but do not take him seriously, it’s just the way he is.” Catherine hadn’t noticed her flirtatious husband. She’d been too preoccupied with thoughts of Richard and Madeline, and trying to read their faces for hints of whether they’d broken their engagement or not. Madeline, all charm and chatter, had a group of admiring women hanging on her every word. She gave no hint of a broken heart. Catherine smiled. “Thank you for your concern. I’m not given to flirting so I’ll pay no attention to your husband. Now tell me about your children. I heard you speak of them at dinner.” She loved children, but after hearing about eight perfect offspring, all wonderfully accomplished, she pleaded a headache, and escaped to her room before the men reappeared. Tomorrow was the party. Already the house thronged with people, and more to come. She wished it was all over, with Madeline back in London she’d have Richard to herself.
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Bathed and in bed, Catherine lay awake for hours. She heard him coming along the hall, and was sorely tempted to find an excuse to speak with him. None came to mind. She thought about asking him to kiss her goodnight. But that would not do. That would keep her awake until dawn! His door opened and closed. She surprised herself by sleeping through the night without waking once to think about him. She’d asked Anna to bring a breakfast tray. Promptly at eight o’clock she knocked and entered. “More guests have just arrived, Miss Thurston. I’ve to run back down and give the maids a hand.” “Off you go then.” Catherine carried the tray out to the balcony. She’d while away the morning here. Ride after luncheon, and wait for the festivities to begin. Dancing was to start immediately after tea. A small orchestra from Winchester, expected by the morning train, would provide the music. Catherine munched on some toast, and contemplated the extent of her party wardrobe. The blue gown she’d brought from London? She disliked the gown, and had not worn it since she’d come to the manor and Madeline would surely recognize its unfashionable cut. What then? Catherine set the tray down. Would she dare? Dare to wear her gypsy clothes? Smiling to herself, she dared, at least in the privacy of her room. She tried on the colorful blouse over her shift but that didn’t look right. Her shoulders had to be bare. Removing her shift, she slipped the blouse over her head, and let it dip over one shoulder. Feeling very bold, she cinched the skirt around her waist, and gazed at herself in the Cheval glass. Next the gold earrings. Entranced with her new image, Catherine danced barefoot around the room. What would Richard think if she went barefoot? Would he kiss her? Silly girl! Catherine scolded herself. Could she think of nothing else but kissing him? What if he and Madeline had patched up their differences? Her spirits sagged. Madeline and Richard? She did not want to think about them. Not together. The morning stole by. She changed into her blue companion dress for luncheon. It would have to do for tea as well. She made her way downstairs hoping for a chance to speak with Richard. Searching around, she found the spacious downstairs rooms occupied by guests. The tables in the large formal dining room and the smaller dining room were laden with a magnificent array of food. Small tables had been set up in the ballroom. Blewett paced through the guests, announcing luncheon. As gentlemen and ladies made their way through the dining rooms, footmen and maids offered them their choices. Since she was supposed to be part of the family, Catherine waited until the last guest had disappeared into the ballroom before she ventured in to survey the delicacies. “Hello, Kate.” She turned to find Richard standing behind her biting into a small, pickled crab apple. “Have a bite, but don’t take too much, this is the last one.” 193
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Her heart dancing, she tried to nibble at the apple while he held it. “Let me hold it or I’ll dribble down my dress.” “Promise not to eat it all.” “I promise.” She giggled, and nipped at the apple. “Mmm, this is very good. What will you do if I eat all of it?” “I will take you outside and…” He frowned and tilted his head. “And make you promise to ride with me this afternoon.” Without hesitating, Catherine popped the last of the apple into her mouth, and ate every bit, seeds and all. “There. Now I must pay for my crime. I will ride with you.” He grinned. “Fill up a plate, and come out on the terrace. I’ve hardly set eyes on you since yesterday morning.” Thinking she might die of happiness, Catherine filled her plate, found a small dish of the pickled apples at the far end of the table, and carried them outside. Although the April sun beamed across the terrace, a slight breeze cooled the air. “Are you warm enough?” he asked. He sat beside her on the love seat. “I’ll send one of the maids to fetch your shawl.” Warm enough? She tingled everywhere. Little fires flared down her skin straight into her heart. “I’m fine. Look what I have for us, pickled apples!” He set his plate on the table in front of them, leaned across, and kissed her on the cheek. She turned to face him, hoping he’d kiss her properly. “Wine, my lord?” A footman placed two glasses on the table. “Thank you, Emmett. You may leave the bottle.” “Very good, milord.” Catherine waited until the footman was out of earshot. “We can’t drink a whole bottle of wine between us if I’m to ride this afternoon. I might take another tumble.” “Well, you’ll not fall into the bog again. I’ve had it fenced to protect you, and my sheep, from coming to a nasty end.” The teasing smile left his eyes. “That bog is a hellish place, a real sinkhole—we should have enclosed it years ago. I might have lost you.” Compelled to do something, to make him feel less responsible for her foolishness, Catherine rested her hand on his. “I endangered both of us. You could have gone down with me.” “Didn’t give it a thought. I was not going to lose my companion.” “Your idiot companion.” Catherine raised his hand to her cheek. “You called me that, along with a few choice oaths, but I forgive you because you saved my life.” She kissed his palm. “Thank you.” Richard shifted an inch or two away from her and withdrew his hand. “Kate, there’s something I have to tell you.”
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She knew what it was. He and Madeline had set a date for their wedding. She’d made a fool of herself again. Richard was right, she was an idiot. What had possessed her to kiss his hand? Her appetite gone, she sipped some wine. “It’s about you and Madeline, isn’t it?” “Yes. It’s about her and you and me.” “Me? I’ve nothing to do with Madeline. When are you to wed?” Unable to sit still another minute, Catherine stood, and immediately regretted it. Her knees wobbled. Dolly came charging up the terrace steps. “I hope I’ve not missed luncheon. Been out with the gardeners directing them where to set up for croquet. We’ll have three games going, and two nets for shuttlecock. That’ll keep everyone occupied this afternoon.” Catherine could not eat a bite. “Have mine, Dolly. I’ve not touched it. Are you riding with us?” “Sorry. I’m in charge of games.” He gazed at her then at Richard. “What’s wrong with you two? This is supposed to be a party. You both have long faces more fit for a funeral than my welcome home.” Catherine waited for Richard to give Dolly the news about his wedding, but he just sat there. She forced a smile. “Richard should be happy. He and Madeline have decided on a date for their wedding.” “We have what?” He shot out of the love seat, and stood nose to nose with her before she could say another word. “Made your wedding plans?” Catherine squeaked, and backed away. “And who told you that?” He came after her. “You did! You said you had something to tell me. I knew exactly what it was because Madeline came down for the party especially to make the final arrangements.” Richard narrowed his eyes. “So that’s what you think, is it? Without me saying a word about weddings or the like, you knew exactly what I was going to say before I said it.” “Isn’t that what you were going to say?” She swallowed hard. “If you had stopped long enough to listen I would have told you that Madeline and I are no longer betrothed.” “You’re not?” Was she supposed to say something? Like she was sorry to hear it, and hoped his heart was not broken, and she’d help mend it if it was. Dolly burst out laughing. “Now that’s all clear, I’m off to the dining room to cast my eye over the cakes. Coming, Catherine?” Feeling slightly numb, and definitely not in her right mind, Catherine let Dolly take her arm, and walk her off the terrace toward the dining room. “He’s not betrothed. Is that true?” “I hope so. He’s too fine a man to waste his life with someone like Madeline.”
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Catherine stopped at the dining room door. “Excuse me, Dolly, I’m going back to speak to him.” Luncheon over, guests flowed from the ballroom to the terrace. Richard moved among them, directing the more active ones to the croquet greens and the shuttlecock courts. A lushly curved young woman sidled up to him. “Are you riding this afternoon?” she asked. “I’d very much like to join you.” Catherine had noticed her last night. She was very pretty, but a little plump. She’d feel squishy if he embraced her. A daughter of one of the county families, her breasts had swelled over the bodice of her gown, and whenever she breathed, they came close to popping out. When she, and other young ladies and their mammas, learned Richard was eligible, they’d be setting their caps for handsome Lord Glenmore. Catherine greeted Madeline and her parents, all were remarkably cheerful. Madeline was on the arm of a distinguished-looking gentleman whose name Catherine could not recollect. She’d met so many people. He had something to do with the government. The curvaceous young woman stood directly in front of Richard, her bosom displayed in all its glory in a low-cut dress of rose silk. Catherine drifted over to him, slid her arm through his, taking advantage of her status as an old friend of the Glenmore family. “Excuse me, Richard.” I’m sorry to interrupt, but when shall we be riding? I’m so looking forward to some exercise. All this wonderful food I’ve eaten is sure to make me plump.” He quirked one dark eyebrow and patted her hand. “Dear Catherine, I’m sure I mentioned two o’clock, but you tend not to listen. It’s a family failing, Emma. I have to remind her constantly about her bad habit of jumping to conclusions. Is that not so, Catherine?” “You never fail to remind me of my many faults, but I promise to do better. I’ll meet you at the stables at two o’clock.” Her heart soaring with happiness, she nodded to him, smiled at Emma, whose last name she’d forgotten, and sauntered off the terrace. Richard was not betrothed. She sang it inside her head, whistled it under breath and… But what chance had she of winning him? She had no dowry. Nothing to offer. Only herself. His paid companion.
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Chapter Twenty-Two Catherine sought the quiet of her room after tea to think about the day. She’d seen very little of Richard except for those few brief moments on the terrace when she’d maneuvered Emma Charteris away from him. The afternoon ride with a few men and the lovely Emma, had been refreshing but he’d been too busy with his guests to pay particular attention to her. She’d expected something. What? That he’d take her aside, declare his love, and make her an offer of marriage? Why did she think he loved her? Because he’d been shocked into saying so after rescuing her from the bog? Because he’d wanted to kiss her? But there was no risk in kissing her now that he and Madeline had parted company. But what were a few stolen kisses? For her, they’d set her body afire, and she’d longed to stay in his arms forever. But for Richard? Perhaps men were different. Perhaps a kiss or two meant nothing to him. She sighed. Like it or not, she had to change her clothes, and take part in the festivities. No time to sit around and mope. There were young men aplenty who’d cast flirtatious glances her way. She’d not be a wallflower. Catherine tried on her blue gown. It was definitely a wallflower gown, not to be compared with some of the day dresses worn by the female guests, especially the pink silk worn by Emma earlier. She imagined how beautiful the women would look in party gowns and her in the dreary blue thing. The blue would not do, but would she shock everyone by dressing as a gypsy? The bright colors would cheer her up. No bare feet though. She did not want her toes crushed by an awkward dancing partner. Catherine tossed the blue gown aside, tossed her undergarment aside and transformed herself into a gypsy. She looped back her curls and secured them with three different colored ribbons. Gold hoops in her ears, she twirled in front of the Cheval glass, one shoulder enticingly bare, the gypsy shawl thrown carelessly over her arm. Suddenly nervous, she paced the room. Dare she do this? She sucked in a deep breath. Why not? She’d nothing to lose. Richard might notice her. Music drifted up through her open windows. The dancing had begun. Head held high in true gypsy fashion she walked boldly along the hallway, past the armored knight—and her courage almost failed. She hesitated at the top of the staircase. Below, Richard stood with a few guests, his back to her. As though sensing her presence, he turned toward her and like a
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sleepwalker, she floated down to him. He met her at the bottom step and held out his hand. “Kate.” Speechless, he feasted his eyes on her. His own beautiful Kate. “Do you want me to change? Have I shocked you?” Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it, lingered over her fingertips, and tempted to kiss her palm, thought he’d save that until later…later when he’d ask her to be his wife. Dolly had not approached him. Until he did, may the best man win…unless Kate loved his brother. “You are perfect. Every man will be asking you to dance, and the women will be envious.” “Excuse me, Richard.” A hand tapped his shoulder, and he turned around. Geoffrey Charteris inclined his head, and smiled at Kate. “May I have this dance, Miss Thurston? You are a vision, quite the most beautiful young lady at Dolly’s party.” As graceful as a queen, Kate offered him her hand. He was Emma’s brother. She’d ridden with him earlier. “Thank you, Mr. Charteris.” He started to lead her to the ballroom. Although ready to dismember his old friend for interrupting his tete-a-tete with Kate, he resisted temptation. “Promise to save a waltz for me, Catherine.” My dearest Kate, he added under his breath. She glanced over her shoulder, her deliciously bare shoulder. “Certainly.” “By God, Richard, your Miss Thurston is an appetizing morsel.” Perfect host or not, he very nearly took his fists to Jack Tarnock. “I don’t like your choice of words, Jack. In the future I’ll thank you not to refer to Miss Thurston in those terms. Is that clear?” Color rose in Jack’s already flushed face. “Didn’t mean any harm. She’s a dashed pretty girl.” He drained the wine in his glass. “Sorry if I offended you.” “Then we’ll say no more about it.” Leaving him behind, Richard sauntered through the various reception rooms making sure drinks were served to those not dancing. A few played cards. Edward had captured an old acquaintance for a game of dominoes. He found his mother sitting with a few friends in one of the spacious ballroom alcoves. “Catherine has left her shawl with me. Doesn’t she look splendid?” “Yes, she is lovely.” His mother slanted her eyes at him. “She’s having a wonderful time. See how Dolly looks at her. He sought her out the minute Geoffrey relinquished her but Dolly has had to allow other young men to dance with her.” As the small orchestra struck up a waltz, Richard made his way through the crowd to reach Kate. “May I have this dance?” Her smile weakened his knees—not good, when he had to try waltzing with one unsteady leg. She melted into his arms, her right hand snug in his. He’d once been a
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very good dancer, part of a gentleman’s accomplishments. His mother had insisted he and Dolly learn what to do with their feet. She had taught them herself. “Ready, Kate?” She swayed with him in time to the music, and he swept her into the waltz. He didn’t care that his leg hurt like hell. With Kate in his arms, nothing else mattered. “I’ve something to ask you.” They did a wide turn around several dancers. “Yes?” She gazed into his eyes, and he lost the beat, stumbled slightly, and willed himself not to lose the rhythm. If his damned leg gave out, he’d end up on the floor with Kate on top of him. “I’ll ask you later. I can’t talk and dance at the same time.” Kate giggled. “Neither can I. I like the music to work its magic.” Too soon, the waltz ended, and he escorted her to where several young ladies preened themselves at the edge of the dance floor waiting for partners. He bowed over her hand and drifted a kiss over her warm skin. Kissing her bare shoulder would have been much more interesting—later perhaps, when she agreed to marry him. Dolly strode up. “May I have the next dance, Catherine? You are so ravishing in that outfit, I find you irresistible.” Richard gritted his teeth. Damn Dolly, why didn’t he speak plainly of his intentions? Well, he’d take the bull by the horns, and make his feelings plain to Kate later. One way or another, he had to know, and tonight was the night, but as a good host he had duties to perform. He joined Emma Charteris where she fanned herself close to an open French door. “Miss Thurston is very unusual.” Emma flicked her fan shut, and tapped it against her bosom, leading his eyes to admire her splendid breasts. With a slight wriggle of her shoulders, she let her gown slide down just enough to expose a nipple to his startled gaze. And almost before he could react, she opened her fan and covered her bare breast. “I’m rather unusual, too, but you’ve never taken notice of me.” “Of course, I’ve taken notice of you. You’re a beautiful young woman.” He glanced around. The other girls had found partners and were dancing. “Am I desirable?” She flicked the fan aside, a quick gesture for his eyes alone. Both her breasts were exposed. He’d no desire to bed Emma but he’d reacted to her, and she knew he’d reacted. Only a dead man would not, and he was anything but dead. Dancing with Kate had heated him. Emma had stoked the flame. “Cover yourself before someone sees you. This is not the time or place to play seductive games.” “Where then?” She wriggled into her dress, and lowered the fan. “Not here, Emma.” He loosened his collar. From the corner of his eye, he saw her mother approach. Not in the mood to deal with Mrs. Charteris, he bowed to Emma, turned on his heel, and escaped outside to the terrace. Fairy lights glowed in the dark 199
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illuminating the garden paths. Couples walked arm in arm. Music drifted from the house. It was a pretty evening. One or two stars appeared in the sky. He savored the quiet and strolled down one of the paths. Ahead, a couple, silhouetted against the lights, embraced. Golden hair gleaming, she stood on tiptoe, and kissed the man. Dolly and Kate? Kate kissing Dolly? Richard strove to calm the turmoil twisting his heart. Kate had kissed him several times after he’d rescued her from the bog—had said she loved him. Why, when she didn’t mean it? Was she nothing but a tease? He strode toward them. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” “Richard, you’ll never guess. Dolly has something to tell you.” Treacherous Kate smiled at him. He clasped Dolly’s hand. “As head of the house, I expected you to speak to me first, but I’ll not stand in the way of your happiness. Shall I announce your intentions during the party?” He paused, and looked hard at Kate. “Perhaps we’d best wait until all the family members have been informed. What do you think?” A puzzled frown creased her brow. “I think that would be best but that’s for you to decide.” Dolly interrupted. “Sorry I didn’t speak to you earlier, I’ve only just made up my mind, and Catherine is delighted.” “I’m sure she is. What young lady would not be delighted to win your affection?” He bowed over her hand, and nodded at his brother. “I must return to our guests. I’ve promised to dance with Emma.” Catherine watched him limp down the path. His leg was not up to dancing reels, and if he intended to dance, she wanted to be in his arms. Emma’s revealing gown left nothing to the imagination. There was a lot of Emma on show. “He didn’t seem pleased to hear your news.” Dolly shrugged. “He might have been put out because I’d not confided him earlier about my plan to join Riena in Canada.” Catherine linked her arm in his to return to the house. “Thank you for telling me. I’m not surprised you fell in love with her, she is so beautiful.” “She’s promised to be my wife. Legally or not, we’ll be together.” Catherine sighed. “I knew something had happened between you and Riena when she was here. Sparks crackled in the air when you looked at each other. I could feel it.” Dolly grinned. “So could I. The minute I saw her at the door, bruised, soaking wet and asking for help, I fell in love.” He escorted her into the ballroom, bowed and
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excused himself. “I must share my dancing talents with some of Mother’s friends, they’re casting glances in my direction. Richard has neglected them.” Catherine couldn’t see him and Emma among the dancers. Feeling thirsty, she made her way to the dining room where a cold supper had been laid out. As she passed the open door of Richard’s darkened study, she heard his voice. “You’ve teased me enough.” “Kiss them. I know you want to. I’ll lower my dress. Ah!” A moaning cry escaped from the woman. Emma Charteris! Richard was kissing Emma’s breasts! Furious at him she grasped the door handle. “At least have the decency to close the door.” She slammed it. Holding herself together against the storm tearing her apart, Catherine passed through the guests, greeted this one and that, and her back straight, walked slowly up to her room. Richard didn’t love her. He’d been toying with her, pretending she meant something to him, and all the while…all the while he’d been waiting for Emma to come to the party. To make love to her. Head in her hands, she slumped in a chair. She’d made such a fool of herself, and like a silly ninny she’d simpered when he’d said how beautiful she looked in her gypsy clothes. She could not stay. Not now. She’d leave a note for Lady Glenmore asking for Anna to pack her trunk, and send it to London. Time dragged on. Sleep was out of the question. Catherine changed into her gray dress, and pulled on her stout walking shoes. The clock on the mantel chimed one. And still she’d not heard Richard pass by her door. Had he taken Emma to bed? Two o’clock.
***** He’d toyed with her affections. Made her believe he cared for her. Feeling bruised, she donned her coat and bonnet at first light and stole silently through the house. Heavy clouds darkened the sky as she reached the road and began the long trek to Abbeyleigh. By the time she reached the station a misty rain had drifted down. She had enough money in her purse for a ticket to London, but would have to walk home from Waterloo. An early train rattled in, and screeched to a stop. Catherine huddled in a corner of a third-class carriage. In a few hours she’d be safe. Safe from more hurt. If only she had enough money for a passage to Australia or Canada or Timbuktu, for that matter. She’d escape from England, as far away as possible from Lord Glenmore.
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When she arrived at Waterloo, a noisy throng crowded the platform, jostling her this way and that. A drizzling rain greeted her when she left the station. With misery dogging her footsteps, Catherine set out for home. Bessie answered her knock. “Why, Miss Catherine, whatever are you doing here?” She stepped aside to let Catherine enter. “Is my mother home?” “Indeed. Her ladyship is in the small parlor having a cup of tea. Let me have your coat and bonnet. I’ll dry your coat in the kitchen. Now run along, and warm yourself by the parlor fire. I’ll fetch a fresh pot of tea.” Catherine dreaded meeting her mother. Steeling herself for what was to come, she stepped inside the snuggly warm parlor. “I’ve come home, Mother,” and promptly burst into tears. “Catherine? Is it you?” Her mother had been dozing in her chair. “Whatever is wrong?” “I’ve left Glenmore Manor.” She dropped to her knees by her mother’s chair. “I had to come home.” “You’re not in trouble, are you?” “No. I’m no longer employed.” “But Catherine, I was to spend the summer at the manor. I’ve told all my friends.” Catherine stood. Not a glimmer of sympathy from her mother. “I’m sorry about your plans, but we’ll be spending the summer in London.” “Tell me what’s driven you to this. I’ll write to Lady Glenmore and explain.” “Please don’t. There’s nothing to explain.” She walked to the window, and stared at the pouring rain. Bessie bustled in with a tray. “What do you think, Miss Catherine? Your brother is returning to England. Your mother had a letter just yesterday, didn’t you, milady?” Catherine whirled around. “Is Johnny really coming home? What did he say?” “Do stop asking questions. You come running home for no reason whatsoever, and I’m in such a state I don’t know whether I’m on my head or my heels.” She frowned at Catherine. “He’s returning to London within the month. He sent me a bank draft for twenty pounds. I planned to take it to the bank to-day.” “Then you must let me have some of the money. You must! You’ll not miss me once Johnny comes home. I’m going to book passage on a ship to Canada.”
***** Richard staggered to his room, and fully clothed, fell into bed. God he felt awful. He’d wakened in his study, a foul taste in his mouth. What had he been doing with Emma? Fondling her breasts? That he remembered. 202
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Then Kate had slammed the door. She’d sounded madder than hell. What did it matter to her whom he bedded? But he’d not bedded Emma. Kate’s angry voice had shocked sense into him. He’d apologized to Emma, and escorted her to the ballroom. Later when his guests began straggling up to their rooms, he’d holed up in his study, and finished the brandy in the decanter. “My lord.” Pickens tapped him on the shoulder. “Go away.” A throbbing headache battered his skull. “Your mother has asked me to wake you, milord.” Richard forced his eyes open. “Why? What time is it?” “Almost ten o’clock.” Thinking he might die if he moved too quickly, Richard sat up and immediately regretted it. “I’m sick, Pickens. I’m going to die.” “Yes, milord. You are a bit green about the gills but I think you’ll live.” Slowly, with Pickens’ help, Richard undressed and tottered to the bathroom. With a reasonably steady hand, he shaved without drawing blood. As consciousness pushed into his aching head, Kate’s betrothal to Dolly added to his woes. “I’ve some coffee for you, milord.” Clothed, and in what passed for his right mind, Richard drank two cups and thought he might live. Leaving his suite, he glanced at Kate’s bedroom door. She’d be downstairs with Dolly, all happy smiles. His mother would be delighted. The hall thronged with departing guests. Sheltering from the rain under the portico, Dolly and his mother were seeing them off. Forcing himself to be cheerful, Richard joined them. “You’ve missed the London people. They’ve just been driven to Abbeyleigh to catch the train.” His mother waved at a departing carriage. “Catherine did not come down for breakfast. I hope she’s not ill.” “I expect she’s tired from so much excitement.” Richard said, nodding at friends, wishing them well, and trying not to think about Kate. Perhaps she’d spent the night in Dolly’s bed. “I lost sight of her after we came in from the garden and didn’t have another chance to dance with her.” Dolly bestowed a kiss on old Mrs. Wilson. “I suppose you’ve told Mother about your betrothal to Catherine.” “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not betrothed to Catherine. Where did you get that damn fool notion?” Hammers thudded in Richard’s temples. “I saw you kissing her in the garden, and she said you were betrothed.” Dolly propelled Richard down the steps and force-marched him away from the house. Rain drenched them.
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“Have you lost your mind? Catherine said nothing about a betrothal. She and I were talking about Riena.” “But she kissed you.” “You know how Catherine is. She was so happy to hear about Riena and me, she kissed me.” “You and Riena?” “I’m in love with her. We’ll marry in Victoria.” “Then, Kate…Catherine doesn’t love you?” “God in heaven.” Dolly blinked rain from his eyes. “She’s in love with you. Only a blind man would fail to see it.” “Then where is she?” Richard grabbed Dolly’s arm. “I’ve got to see her. Tell her I love her. Ask her to marry me.” In a limping run, hanging on to his brother, he reached the house, waved at the last few guests, and headed upstairs. “Kate!” He banged at her door. Anna flung it open. “My lord, Miss Thurston is not here. Her bed’s not been slept in. There’s a note pinned to her pillow, addressed to your mother.” “Let me have it.” His hands shaking, he unfolded the paper. Dear Lady Glenmore. I’m sorry to leave in such a hurry. Please have Anna pack my trunk and send it to my home in London. Thank you for being so kind to me. Catherine Thurston. What must she think of him? She’d seen him in the study with Emma. Sick at heart for wounding his beloved Kate, Richard limped across to his suite and stared out the window into the rain. She’d left him. Dolly followed him. “Well, has she forgiven you for being such an idiot?” Richard handed him the note. “She’s gone…must have…” He didn’t want to think what he’d done to her. “She must have walked to Abbeyleigh.” “Well, are you going after her or not?” “She’ll never want to see me again.” “Is this my big, bold brother giving up so soon? Get yourself to London and beg her forgiveness. Catherine isn’t likely to bear a grudge.” He grabbed Richard’s shoulders. “Change your clothes. You’re wet. Have Pickens pack a small valise. I’ll drive you to Abbeyleigh to catch the next train.” A glimmer of hope brightened Richard’s wretched brain then promptly disappeared. “The late afternoon train will reach London too late for me to call on her.” “Then stay overnight and see her in the morning.” The glimmer of hope beamed again. “The morning will be better when she’s not tired.” He gave the note to Dolly and a rueful smile touched his lips. “Give this to
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Mother. Explain what’s happened. She’s always wanted a daughter. Tell her I’m going to marry Catherine…if she’ll have me.”
***** Catherine’s head ached from listening to her mother’s complaints about her behavior. “You gave me every reason to believe you were happy at Glenmore Manor. You leave for no reason I can discern, and now have some ridiculous notion about going abroad. You’ll never make a good marriage carrying on like this. I really do not know what to do with you.” A glimmer of hope raised Catherine’s spirits. She’d persuaded her mother to part with ten pounds. Very likely she was glad to be rid of her headstrong daughter. If a bride ship were leaving within the next week or so, she’d outfit herself for the journey, and present herself to the authorities who were charged with sending young women to Victoria. “Mother, I’m going down to the docks to see what ships are sailing.” Lady Jane pursed her lips. “You’ll be the death of me. Never had a mother so much to put up with. First Johnny, now you. Why can’t you be like other young ladies?” With her mother’s words ringing in her ears, Catherine slipped from the house, and engaged a hackney to take her to the dock area. She huddled in her seat as the cab rattled noisily on cobblestone streets through rundown neighborhoods. Barefoot children in dirty ragged clothes darted at the cab. ”Give us a penny.” They ran alongside screaming at Catherine. ″Be off with you!” The driver snapped his whip over his horse. One of the children picked up a stone and hurled it at the cab. Catherine ducked as it flew past her. Her hands trembled as she clutched her reticule to her chest and prayed they'd soon be at the docks. When they finally arrived she was frightened at being on her own in the rough-and-tumble of the area and paid the hackney driver an extra shilling to wait for her. “I’ll not be more than thirty minutes.” That should give her time to scan the shipping notices. Dodging between men loaded down with boxes on their backs, stepping aside to avoid swaggering seamen with young women clinging to their arms, Catherine wished she’d not come. The noise, shouts, and leering glances of sweaty stevedores alarmed her. Sidling as close as possible to the sheds with shipping notices tacked to them, she stopped in front of one offering assisted passage to Canada. “Hello, Kate.”
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She whirled around. “What?” Eyes closed she sagged against the weather-beaten boards behind her. He wasn’t there. Couldn’t be there. But only Richard called her Kate. No one else. "Kate, will you marry me.” Her eyes snapped open. Richard stood right in front of her asking her to marry him. “How did you get here? And why do you want to marry me?” He clasped her hands and drew her into his arms. “I came up on the early train, ordered the carriage we keep in London, called at your home and your mother told me where you’d gone." He drifted a kiss across her lips. “I love you, Kate. Will you forgive me?” “Forgive you?” “Forgive me for making a fool of myself with Emma Charteris. I thought you loved Dolly and…I didn’t know what I was doing. I thought I’d lost you.” Bewildered at his talk about her loving Dolly, she tried to focus on what he was saying. One thing she had to know. Had to ask the one question she did not want to ask, but had to know the answer. “Did you take Emma to bed and make love to her?” Richard cupped her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes. “No. The only woman I’ll ever make love to is you, my own Kate. Say you’ll be my wife.” She threw her arms around his neck, and parted her lips for his kiss. “I love you,” she murmured against his mouth. Locked in his arms, he kissed her. Not once. Over and over until Catherine’s head spun in dizzying circles. Loud clapping startled her. She swung around. Grinning dock workers surrounded them. Blushes rose hot and furious up her throat. One tattooed giant slapped his thigh. “Congratulations, guv’ner. Your lady’s a real beauty, she is. Going to wed, are you?” Richard recovered quickly and bowed. “Thank you. We’ve set the date for early May. Is that not so, my love?” Catherine smothered a giggle. “Yes, indeed. Now we’d best be on our way, and let these gentlemen return to work.” Richard handed several pound notes to the tattooed giant. “Buy a round of beer for your mates.” Roaring with laughter, they tossed their caps in the air, and hurried back to the docks. Richard tucked Catherine’s arm in his, and walked her away from the docks. “Wait a moment.” She paused at the curb where the Glenmore carriage awaited them. “I asked the driver of the hansom cab to wait for me. I must pay him for his time.” “I’ll see to it,” Richard said. He dropped a pound note into the startled hand of the cabbie. “Thankee, sir. Thankee,” he said, and whistling merrily, set off along the cobbled street. 206
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The Glenmore coachman lowered the step and opened the door. Richard handed Catherine into the carriage and joined her on the thickly padded maroon velvet seat. She turned to Richard. “Your mother has been very kind to me but will she be happy having me as a daughter?” Richard raised her hand to his lips. “Mother is delighted. Edward is delighted. Dolly is delighted. Pickens is delighted. Mrs. Paige is delighted. Your maid, Anna, is delighted. You will be welcomed back with open arms, but first we must call upon your mother. I shall ask her for your hand in marriage. Do you think she’ll agree?” Catherine suppressed a giggle. “I am sure she will. The announcement of our betrothal will be in the Times within days. She had given up on finding me a suitable husband especially after I ruined my reputation by accepting paid employment.” “My brave companion. I threw books at you. I tormented you. I stole your sketch. Why did you stay?” “I couldn’t pay back my wages.” “Is that all?” “Then I fell in love with you.” The coachman closed the door. Richard drew the curtain across the window. “Now, I shall kiss you the way I have always wanted to kiss you.” Catherine melted in his arms and kissed him back.
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Epilogue Viscount Glenmore and Catherine Thurston, only daughter of Lady Jane Thurston and the late George Thurston were married on May 5, 1855, at St. Margaret’s Church, London, England.
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About the Author I have been writing fiction and non-fiction for many years. My romance novels are all set in England, Wales and Scotland. I know the territory well, having traveled extensively and spent considerable time in all three countries. Before moving to the west coast of Canada, My husband and I lived in Toronto, Ontario, where I trained as a human relations therapist with a particular interest in using Neuro-Linguistic Programming in my work. I no longer practice but my training is useful as I sort out tangled relationships in my books. We have a wonderful son, a lovely daughter-in-law and two very special grandchildren. Anita welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.cerridwenpress.com.
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Cerridwen, the Celtic goddess of wisdom, was the muse who brought inspiration to storytellers and those in the creative arts. Cerridwen Press encompasses the best and most innovative stories in all genres of today’s fiction. Visit our site and discover the newest titles by talented authors who still get inspired—much like the ancient storytellers did, once upon a time.
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