An Artful Deception

by Karen Cogan

  Katharine hurried to comply.

  She returned with the maid and the wraps while the footman brought Tom Coachman round with the coach. As they were escorted into the misty afternoon, Lady Charlesworth exhibited her usual flighty inability to stay irritated by saying, “It is nice to have more social engagements than one can attend. How I love the gaiety of London, even though it is so gray and dismal outdoors. In fact, I hardly notice. The year Philip was born I was obliged to remain in the country all winter, and it was the most intolerable time of my life. The days were simply interminable. I should never like to do that again.”

  “I have been much in the country all of my life. I find London more stimulating than I ever imagined,” Katharine admitted.

  Katharine thought back to the simple balls she had attended in Brentwood when she had come of age. She had been encouraged to practice her social skill on all of the young men present. Yet, she had been strictly instructed by Papá that he would allow no attachments until she considered young Lord Charlesworth for her hand. Her governess had kept a watchful eye, and truthfully, Katharine had not met anyone who tempted her fancy.

  They clattered along the rainy street. Street lamps had already been lit against the evening fog. The streets were noisy with costermongers selling their wares.

  Her conscience pricked her a bit at her plans for stealing the invitation to the ball. She eased it by reminding herself that she would have been extended one had the ton known she was alive. She was really only taking what was rightfully hers.

  They arrived home in time for Lady Charlesworth to take her rest before Lord Charlesworth arrived home for his dinner break from the twice weekly meetings of Parliament. She did not see Philip and wondered what engagement he would be attending with his parents the following week.

  She sought out Lizzy and gave her an account of the afternoon before settling down in the parlor with some mending for Lady Charlesworth. After awhile she heard the door open. Philip greeted the butler, and then resumed a conversation with a man whose voice Katharine did not recognize.

  They turned into the parlor, and then stopped short at the sight of Katharine sitting on the settee with her mending. Her eyes moved from Philip to the fair haired young man who was short and squarely built. Then a flush of color stained her cheeks at becoming the object of their attention.

  She rose and said, “If you wish to entertain, I can take this mending to my chamber, my lord.”

  Philip waved her back to her seat. “You may as well stay. We are only here for a moment. I came to leave word with Mother that I will be going out to dinner with my friend, Mr. Trevor. Would you be so kind as to tell her?”

  Katharine sank back upon the settee. “I would be pleased to do so.”

  Philip hesitated a moment, as though reluctant to leave. “I shall not be late. I plan to go for an early ride tomorrow in Hyde Park.”

  Katharine nodded, wondering why he sounded as though he wanted her approval.

  She smiled. “That sounds lovely. I shall relay the message.”

  He looked uncertainly from Katharine to his companion. “I shall just run upstairs and change. There is a nice fire in the library. I could have our butler bring you a drink,” Philip offered his friend.

  The shorter man shook his head. “No thank you. I shall be perfectly content to wait right here.”

  Looking less than pleased, Philip nodded and strode away.

  Mr. Trevor appraised Katharine in a somewhat forthright manner and then said, “Have you been in London long?”

  She glanced up. “No. I arrived with the Charlesworth family.”

  She went back to her mending and hoped that he would amuse himself with the contents of the room. Unfortunately, he seemed a young man of single mind and right now his mind was upon Katharine. He stepped closer and said, “I met Lord Charlesworth at the club. I am in London on business. My family is very old gentry. I own an estate in Sussex.”

  She looked up, meeting his hopeful gaze. She had learned long ago how to tell when a young man was trying to impress her. He probably imagined that a maid with no connections would be eager to make his acquaintance.

  How she could discourage him without offending him eluded her at the moment. So she merely said, “I am sure you have a lovely home.”

  The simple comment started him on a detailed description of his holdings that continued until Philip entered the room, looking dashing in a black waistcoat and spotless white cravat. He had brushed his dark hair back from his brow, making his high cheekbones look chiseled and tantalizingly masculine.

  He took in the scene and frowned. “Let us be off, Mr. Trevor. Ginny, be so kind as to remember my message.”

  As they entered the waiting coach, Mr. Trevor turned to Philip. “What a winsome creature. Wherever did you find her?”

  Philip briefly explained the circumstances of Katharine’s arrival.

  Mr. Trevor rubbed his chin. “Though she is currently in service, I should like to know her background. Should it prove unblemished or perhaps even distinguished in some way, I should like to know her better. She is an intriguing creature with that burnished hair.”

  Philip felt vaguely disturbed by Trevor’s interest. “All I know is that her parents were in service to Lord and Lady Kirby.”

  “Humm... Well, I should like to know her better.”

  So should I, Philip thought, admitting to himself that he had the distinct impression that she was guarding a secret. And he would give a good part of his estate to find out if he was right.

  The next morning, Katharine came downstairs from tending Lady Charlesworth to find Philip pacing the portico in his fanciest double-breasted riding coat. He looked so disgruntled that she wondered if he had not enjoyed his ride.

  Their eyes met and she dared to ask, “Was your ride not pleasant?”

  He scowled. “My ride was fine. It is sitting still for days that I do not relish.”

  Katharine cocked her head, feeling puzzled. “Sitting still for days?”

  “Yes. Mother has decided that while I am in London, I am to have my likeness painted. She hired an artist who came highly recommended by her friend.”

  Katharine could not stifle a laugh as she pictured Philip forced to endure hours of confinement. “I remember sitting for an artist when I was a little girl. I thought I would expire before I was allowed to be free each day.”

  Philip tilted a dark brow. “You had your likeness taken?”

  Katharine sucked in her breath, aghast at what she had disclosed. She hurried to explain, “My young mistress did not like to sit still, so I sat for the figure, leaving her to sit only for the face. Fortunately we were nearly the same age and size at the time.”

  “That must have been very tedious for you.”

  “Indeed. Her Mamá had hired a French artist from London, perhaps the same man who will paint you. He was very exacting, insisting upon getting every detail correct.”

  “Her mother must have been pleased with the result.”

  Katharine thought back, remembering as though it was only yesterday. “No, her mother was not pleased. She did not think that he got her hair the correct color and she wanted it changed.”

  “And the artist?”

  “He was furious. He refused to change any part of his masterpiece. When they could not come to an agreement, he stormed off with the painting.”

  “So Lady Katharine had no likeness of herself to leave behind?”

  Katharine shook her head. “I believe her Mamá meant to hire another artist when her daughter was older. But her Mamá became ill and it never happened.”

  He smiled regretfully. “How very sad to think the painting is somewhere in London when it should be in the gallery of her home.”

  “Indeed. I think her Papá regretted it.”

  Before he could question her further, the bell on the door chimed. Lord Philip sighed. For the next few days, his mornings would be taken with the vexing challenge of doing nothing except sitting.


  In the afternoon, Katharine ran into Philip again. She was just returning from an errand for Lady Charlesworth who simply had to have Sally Lunn rolls for dinner that evening. Philip nodded and walked past her, then paused on the walkway, looking uncertain. Then he turned and approached her as she reached the door.

  “I have a few moments before I am expected for lunch at the club. Would you care to walk with me?”

  Katharine could not contain her surprise as she stammered, “My lord, I must deliver these rolls to the kitchen, and then I have work.”

  “Please. I want to talk to you and it will not take long. If any trouble comes of it, I will vouch that it was all my idea.”

  Katharine hesitated while her heart thumped loudly in her chest. What could he possibly have to say to her that required any degree of privacy? Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she said, “Let me take these to Cook and I will be right back.”

  She hurried the rolls to the kitchen and returned, still wearing her shawl. She pulled it close around her. The day, though damp, was only mildly chilly and she welcomed the opportunity for a walk. She found it difficult being confined to the house with so little opportunity for diversion. She looked forward to the evenings after Lizzy finished her duties. They would sit and talk and Lizzy would tell her all about Cook and the butler and any neighborhood gossip she had heard.

  Yet, even Lizzy could not replace the freedom she had known in the country, freedom to ride her horse and walk the meadows. She glanced around her and wondered if she could ever like London the way she had loved her home. Perhaps, if she were free to make calls and ride her mount on the Ladies’ Mile each morning in Hyde Park she would find London as exhilarating as Lady Charlesworth claimed it to be.

  They passed two fine gentlemen and two ladies with heads bent together in conversation. Their camaraderie encouraged Philip. He glanced at Katharine and determined to plunge into the matter that weighed upon his mind.

  “I believe you acquired an admirer last night.”

  She peered up at him. Her lovely shamrock eyes looked troubled. In fact, she looked so genuinely distressed that he asked, “Are you not pleased?”

  “I am not pleased. I mean no offense to your friend, for I am sure that he is a fine gentleman. But I have no interest in forming an attachment and I assure you that I did nothing to encourage him.”

  Philip wondered why he should feel such relief at her answer, for it was not the least bit sensible. Mr. Trevor, though he was not titled, came from a respectable family of gentry. He had land and a comfortable home. Philip wondered that he had taken such an interest in a maid. And yet, to Philip’s irritation, Trevor had brought the matter up more than once as they passed away the evening.

  “You know that he is gentry. He pays you a compliment with his attention. I believe he would like to call upon you in the evening when you are free.”

  Katharine stopped walking and peered up beseechingly. “Please, you must explain to him that I do not wish to entertain notions of his affection. Will you do that for me?”

  Her plea was so urgent that he could do no less than agree. “I will attempt to discourage him, though I cannot fathom why you wish it.”

  In his innermost heart, Philip knew why her answer pleased him. He wanted her to find him as fascinating as he found her. Even though the situation between them was impossible, he could not help the way he enjoyed her company. He knew he should be shamed by his desire for an affection that he could not accept, yet he could not bring himself to ignore her charm.

  When she did not reply, he knew that he would have to be satisfied with the fact that she did not wish to encourage Mr. Trevor’s attentions. How he would dissuade the man, he was not sure. Yet one look at Katharine’s earnest face told him that, for her sake, he must try.

  “You truly are a most perplexing young woman.”

  She smiled up at him, melting his heart as she said, “And you have won my admiration by your unfailing display of kindness and charity. I shall be forever in your debt.”

  In one accord, they turned to walk back to the house. It was with the utmost self-discipline that Philip resisted taking her arm. He would have to be satisfied with her admiration of his character. Yet the self-honesty upon which he prided himself forced him to admit that he did not mind having her believe herself in his debt.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Philip found sitting for his portrait more tedious than he had ever imagined. He would never have consented had it not been that Lady Charlesworth’s nagging would have been even more tiresome. She was convinced that he had come of a perfect age and figure to have his portrait hung in the gallery.

  She came in each day when the morning work was completed and admired the progress. Now all that was left to make her perfectly content was to have a young lady’s portrait to hang beside him. She asked him often if he met anyone that took his fancy. He restrained from giving her the honest answer that flew to his lips for fear of causing her apoplexy.

  “The maid!” she would cry. She would have the poor girl sent forthright from her employ and blame the unfortunate attraction squarely upon Ginny’s slender shoulders. Philip frowned. Yes, Ginny would be blamed. Yet it was entirely his fault. She had not encouraged him, at least not in any way in which he could hold her to blame. And he did not want her to suffer any of the consequences of his lack of self-control. He must put his efforts to finding a young lady of title. Surely there was one out there if he troubled himself to give a serious effort.

  The artist told him with some annoyance that he would not paint such an outrageous scowl. Philip composed his face. Under his breath, the artist continued to complain that painting a recalcitrant young man was as vexing as painting a six year old child.

  Katharine kept her eyes open for the invitation to the ball. On the third morning after they had gone calling, Katharine arrived home from an outing with Lady Charlesworth to find that it had finally arrived. Lady Charlesworth flipped through the letters the butler placed it on the silver salver and then instructed Katharine to bring the ones she had chosen to the upstairs sitting room.

  Katharine’s fingers shook as she carried the salver. She had never done anything quite as dishonest as what she was planning. If Lady Charlesworth caught her, how would she explain?

  Lady Charlesworth settled herself at her ornately carved writing desk and reached for her correspondence. She waved her hand at Katharine. “You may run along for a bit. I shall be awhile in writing my acceptances and regrets. It is wonderful to have so many tempting requests. It is a pity that I cannot accept them all.”

  Katharine decided to retire to the library and read while she waited for Lady Charlesworthto complete her task. She had started on a book of poems by Keats. However, when she had settled into a wingback chair, with the volume in hand, she found that she could not concentrate.

  She listened to the ticking of the mantel clock and waited for Lady Charlesworth to complete her task. When an hour had finally passed, Katharine closed the book and journeyed up the stairs.

  She rapped softly on the door and entered, to find Lady Charlesworth’s still at her undertaking. That she had not wavered in her efforts was proven by the stack of replies that sat ready for enclosure in their envelopes. Lady Charlesworth glanced up and asked distractedly, “Do you write with a nice hand?”

  Katharine thought back to the hours her governess had made her practice writing her letters with the proper neatness of a lady. Katharine had never been possessed of great patience and she had protested the exacting standards of her instructor. However, in the end, the outcome had been worth the price, for she finally developed a curved and graceful script.

  “Yes, my lady. Would you like for me to assist you?”

  “Yes. Address each envelope as you see on the letters. Let me see the first so that I may decide if you are to continue.”

  Katharine neatly lettered the name of the first reply. When she finished, Lady Charlesworth inspected her effor
t. “A nice job, indeed. I do not understand your training at all. You can barely put a decent hem into a dress, yet you write like a lady.”

  She shook her head. “Never mind, though. I may as well make use of the talents you do have.”

  Katharine concentrated on her task, blotting carefully and making no mistakes. At last, Lady Charlesworth set down her pen and said, “I have completed my replies. I shall leave you to complete the envelopes. When you are finished, you may take them down for posting. I am going to rest as I am quite done in. Ring for Lizzy to bring my luncheon to my room.”

  Katharine relayed Lady Charlesworth orders to Lizzy, and then finished her task. She stacked the neatly scripted envelopes on the salver. Lady Charlesworth had kept the invitations that she intended to accept. Those that were rejected were piled upon the salver for disposal.