The Seventh Suitor

by Laura Matthews

  “I daresay I shall look in there in the next few days. I can tell you what I think when next we meet, or send a line round.” Winterton turned to indicate to Kate his intention of leaving and found her in animated, joking conversation with O’Rourke. They appeared to be on the friendliest of terms and spoke as old acquaintances. Although Winterton was grievously irritated by O’Rourke’s casual familiarity with the young lady, he determinedly remained polite when the Irishman, ever sensitive to a departure, appeared instantaneously beside him to shake his hand and say, “So glad to meet you, Lord Winterton. I hope I shall have the pleasure again soon.”

  Winterton replied in kind, if with markedly less enthusiasm than his new acquaintance. As Kate walked with him to the bell pull he searched her face for any sign of annoyance with him for his coolness to O’Rourke or his shortness in discussing Carl’s death. All he could identify was an unshaken warmth in the brown eyes lifted to his, and he spoke rather gruffly. “You have not as yet told me if I can assist with the printing of the book.”

  “It is all taken care of; there was no problem at all.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Thomas is preparing for your next project—a chandler’s shop, I believe. Have you a mind to continue?”

  “Certainly. No doubt I shall learn all about tallow or wax or forms and such. I’ll make a point of visiting a chandler’s while I’m here,” Kate assured him earnestly, her eyes amused.

  “Do you return to the Hall soon?”

  “In a few days. Papa has not decided precisely when yet.”

  “No doubt you will attend Lady Stockton’s ball for her daughter.”

  “Yes, Mama is adamant that I shall. Lady Stockton is a long-time family friend.”

  “Then I shall look forward to seeing you Thursday.”

  “You are going to Lady Stockton’s?” Kate could not conceal her surprise.

  “It was my intention,” he replied stiffly.

  Kate smiled gratefully. “I am glad. It will be most comfortable to see a familiar face in the squeeze.”

  “Until Thursday, then.” Winterton touched her cheek gently and abruptly took his leave without waiting for Sampson to be summoned.

  Bemused, Kate watched the door close behind him, leaving the room once again to its normal proportions, no longer crowded, but empty. Ridiculous to put such significance on his call, on the tiny gesture of . . . friendship? No, he would never choose anyone to be his friend whom he considered less than honorable, as he did her. But there was no need for him to have called at all. If he were interested in the printing of the book, surely he could have had Mr. Single send a note round to inquire. It would have been more in keeping with his dignity. But he had come to see her. Why? She was interrupted in her meditations by an apologetic Mr. O’Rourke.

  “So sorry to have spoken of Carl, Miss Montgomery. I had not heard of his death, and Ralph says there is some . . . ah . . . awkwardness about it between you and his lordship. Must be that devilish leprechaun acting up again,” he said ruefully.

  “There is nothing to be concerned about, Mr. O’Rourke,” Kate assured him. “Lord Winterton does not approve of me, but it has not prevented him from being of service to the whole of my family.”

  O’Rourke regarded her thoughtfully. “I think you are mistaken, Miss Montgomery. Lord Winterton did not appear disapproving, or even indifferent to you. He’s not married?”

  A flush stained her cheeks, and she made a gesture of denial to his implication. “No. He lives alone at Winter Manor. His mother died about a year after Carl. Lord Norris,” Kate said, indicating that young man across the room, “is Lord Winterton’s ward.”

  “Methinks Lord Norris has an interest in your sister,” O’Rourke replied laughingly.

  “I think you are right. Come, let’s save Laura from Ralph’s talk of horses.”

  * * * *

  Lady Stockton’s ball, early in the season as it was, could be described only as a crush, which of course was the highest praise one could receive. Laura looked radiantly beautiful in a white satin grown embellished with emerald green ribbons to emphasize her eyes. She knew quite a few of the guests and, feeling relatively at ease in London society, assisted Susan to feel comfortable.

  Kate attempted to stay in the background; it was Susan’s season, and Kate was determined that her sister should enjoy it to the full. Kate, well past the required pale colors and docile behavior of a first season, was able to dress as she pleased in a burgundy silk which became her.

  When Mr. O’Rourke claimed Kate for the cotillion, he found her amongst a crowd of gentlemen each intent on describing for her his particular exploits during the previous hunting season. As he led her off on his arm, he proceeded to enlighten her on his own adventures in the hunting field; these prominently included his leprechaun, Sprig. Kate was laughing merrily when she happened to glance to the side of the room, where Lord Winterton had appeared and was regarding her. She flushed slightly, to her annoyance, and nodded to him before the movement of the dance recalled her attention. When the dance was completed and O’Rourke returned her to her mother and Susan, Winterton was there speaking with them.

  “Good evening, Miss Montgomery,” he said politely, as he bowed. “Your sister has honored me by agreeing to stand up for the boulanger with me. Might I hope that you have the succeeding waltz free?”

  “I do and it would be a pleasure, Lord Winterton. Have you been to Tattersall’s yet? Ralph is anxious to know what you think of the chestnut.”

  “I saw it yesterday, and spoke with your brother a few minutes ago. An excellent animal, and would be a wise addition to his stud.”

  “Have you been to the farm, then?” Kate asked curiously.

  “Several times. Does that surprise you?”

  “Yes,” she replied frankly, then conceded, “I suppose it should not. You have been most kind to my family.”

  The music for Winterton’s set with Susan was beginning. After a brief, inscrutable look at Kate, he claimed his partner, and Kate found Lord Norris at her elbow to do likewise.

  “Makes me nervous finding him around all the time,” Charles murmured pathetically.

  “Poor Charles. Has he been hard on you?”

  “No, and that is what makes me nervous,” Charles confessed. “He has been most accommodating to me and even gave me an advance on my allowance. What do you suppose he’s up to?”

  “I imagine it’s just his old age, Charles. Perhaps he’s mellowing,” Kate suggested, as she picked Winterton and Susan out of the group in the next set. Susan appeared to be listening to him with less than her usual awe. Winterton in fact was putting himself out to be agreeable to her. He had made her known to several of his friends in the set before the dance began and then spoke with her, when they were together, about neighborhood acquaintances, including Lord Norris.

  Charles followed Kate’s glance and remarked hopefully, “They seem to be going on well, don’t they?”

  “Much better than usual,” Kate agreed. “Susan usually treats him as though he were the Prince Regent and has not a thing to say to him.”

  “I imagine that’s because I’ve prejudiced her against him,” Charles confessed. “But it has been his custom to be rather hard on me!”

  “I’ve no doubt. And he probably would be again if you were not making such an effort to be the model gentleman. You know, you seem to have matured considerably in the last few months, Charles.”

  “Do you think so?” Charles blushed under her praise. “Winterton has given over a great part of my estate management to me and, you know, I find I enjoy it.”

  “I imagine it is very satisfying work,” Kate mused wistfully.

  The dance ended, and she returned with Charles to her mother, who was relishing the renewal of ancient acquaintances, and, satisfied that her daughters were enjoying themselves and did not lack for partners, saw no necessity to do more than acknowledge their coming and going with a brief, cheerful nod of her head, which sent the dyed ostrich p
lumes swaying. Winterton and Susan arrived directly, and Charles shepherded Susan off for a taste of the delicacies Lady Stockton had caused to be liberally spread out in another room.

  Winterton secured a glass of champagne for Kate with an imperious nod of his head to the tall, elegantly liveried footman who glanced in their direction. “You do drink champagne, do you not, Miss Montgomery?”

  “Whenever I have the chance,” Kate confided with a smile as she took the glass he offered. She sipped it gratefully, for the room was hot and stuffy from the hundreds of candles burning in the sparkling chandeliers.

  “Have you known Mr. O’Rourke long?” he asked abruptly.

  “Aunt Eleanor and I met him in Ireland several years ago. I have seen him a few times in London since then. He’s with the Foreign Office now.”

  “Would that he were with the Home Office.”

  Kate considered for a moment as she sipped at the champagne. “Yes,” she said thoughtfully, “I see what you mean. But I am sure Mr. O’Rourke is a credit to the Foreign Office, as well as a charming addition to it. And it seems to me that the men in government are seldom placed where their wisdom is most needed.”

  Piqued by her praise of the Irishman, a note of sarcasm crept into his voice. “You have given the matter a great deal of thought, I suppose.”

  “So far as my poor, simple female brain will allow, your lordship,” Kate retorted. Her hand clenched around the stem of her glass. “I had thought you allowed me a modicum of intelligence, but I see that I was mistaken.”

  “You were not mistaken, Miss Montgomery. Come, this is our waltz.”

  Kate was annoyed, but reluctant to deny him the dance she had promised. Could he never deal with her for ten minutes without the arrogance emerging? She wanted to kick him in the shin, but instead allowed him to take her in his arms. She was disturbed by the sensation she felt at his touch. A shyness enveloped her, and she wondered frantically if she could think of anything to say to him. She refused to look at him but pointedly surveyed the whirling mass of elegance about her.

  “Are you angry with me?” he asked after awhile.

  “Yes. No. It cannot matter,” she murmured.

  Winterton contemplated her averted face, the brown tresses swaying with the movement of the dance. Although her steps did not falter, he could feel the tautness in her body, as though she were straining away from him. He released his hold on her to the merest touch, and her startled eyes met his. “Are you afraid of me?”

  “Of course not!” she declared with a defiant sniff, her eyes locked with his.

  “Good. If you are not afraid of me and you are not angry with me, why are you not talking with me?”

  “I was not aware,” she said formally, “that the burden of conversation fell upon me.”

  “Well, you know, I have few social graces, and if you wish us not to appear singular, I fear you will have to assume the task.”

  “Very well. What do you think of the coming marriage of Princess Charlotte to Prince Leopold?”

  “I couldn’t care less.”

  “Do you think there will be a good harvest this year?”

  “No.”

  “Have you an opinion on the Corn Laws?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, what is it?”

  “They are detestable.”

  “Why?”

  “They will cause further starvation in the countryside.”

  “Do you think this waltz will ever end?” Kate asked desperately.

  “Yes,” he laughed. “Has it seemed interminable?”

  “You know it has. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Ah, you feel it is my turn to bear the burden. So be it. Do you find your house here comfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is your sister enjoying her season?”

  “So far.”

  “How is Ralph progressing with the farm?”

  “Very well.”

  “Will you drive with me tomorrow afternoon in the park?”

  Kate barely managed to suppress a nervous giggle. “You are being ridiculous.”

  “That does not answer my question, Miss Montgomery.”

  “If I agree, will you be prepared to converse with me?”

  “I shall have Thomas draw up a list of subjects to be discussed.”

  “Very well, but I shall not go until I see the list,” she declared, and raised her eyes to his to add, “I’m glad you’re not always stuffy.”

  “I shall endeavor to be quite light-hearted,” he rejoined solemnly. “I may be tempted to stray somewhat from Thomas’s list, though, for although an admirable secretary in every way, he is not omniscient and may fail to cover every subject I might be inclined to discuss.”

  There was a suggestion of intimacy in the words which was not belied by the tenderness in his eyes and the renewed possessiveness of his arm about her. Kate was so shaken by her own response to him that she barely managed to force a lightness to her tone when she said, “I shall be pleased to hear anything you have to say, Lord Winterton. My only fear is that you will have no conversation whatsoever.”

  “I can think of appropriate moments for that as well,” he retorted.

  “Well . . . I . . . I cannot,” she stammered. “That is, if we are to drive in the park. I mean . . . there might be occasions for silence . . . at the theater, for instance. I should feel most uncomfortable if we were not to speak on a drive.”

  “No, would you? I give you my word that I will keep you as comfortable as possible, by whatever means are necessary.” His amusement at her confusion was kindly, and he pressed her hand encouragingly. “There, you see, the waltz is ending at last.”

  “About time,” she murmured as she placed her hand on his arm to be escorted from the dance floor. Mr. O’Rourke was waiting to take her in to supper, and she did not see Winterton again during the long evening.

  Chapter l6

  Although Kate and her family had not returned to the house in Brook Street until the early hours of the morning, Kate rose by mid-morning so famished that she descended to the breakfast parlor to partake of a truly admirable meal. She was alone at this repast when Sampson entered to present her a letter on a silver salver, which she proceeded to open directly, noting that it was from her Aunt Eleanor.

  My dear Kate (it read) I have at last succeeded in discovering Charity’s problem. I shall not disclose it to you, as she has merely agreed to explain to Ralph (if he should still be interested, she emphasizes) why she felt forced to refuse his offer. If Ralph does decide to come, I hope you will come with him, for Charity could use your support. And I still have not succeeded in ridding myself of Dawson’s housekeeper! I want to get this off immediately, so I shall say no more.

  Your loving aunt, Eleanor

  Fortunately Kate had nearly completed her meal, for this epistle sent her dashing off to Ralph’s room without delay. When she tapped on the door, there was no response, and she could not discover Walker anywhere about. He had probably waited up for Ralph and was sleeping as soundly as his master. Kate rapped on the door more vigorously and was rewarded by a grunted, “What do you want?”

  “It’s Kate, Ralph, and I have some very important news for you. May I come in?”

  “Oh, very well,” came the merest sigh which Kate established as she entered had been produced from beneath the covers where her brother remained. She flung open the draperies and rang for Walker before seating herself on the edge of the bed. Ralph cautiously lowered the covers to peer out at her, blinking in the bright sunlight. “Nothing,” he declared stoutly, “could be important enough to wake me at this hour.”

  “Read this,” Kate urged, pushing the sheet of paper under his nose.

  “Can’t expect me to read anything in this state,” he groaned.

  “Read it, Ralph. It’s from Aunt Eleanor.”

  A spark of interest gleamed in his bleary eyes, and he pushed himself up in bed cautiously as Walker arrived at the door. “Some c
hocolate and toast, please, Walker. And don’t blame me for getting you up at this hour. Kate’s fault.” He reached for the paper Kate extended with his right hand and brushed his tangled blond hair back with the other. He read the letter once, and then again. His eyes, full of tortured hope, sought out Kate’s. “Can we leave within the hour, Kate?”

  “Yes, Ralph. You will wait until you speak with Charity before setting your hopes too high, will you not, my dear?”

  “I’ll try. I’m just pleased to be able to see her again,” he admitted, swallowing unsteadily.

  Leaving Ralph to inform their parents, Kate begged Betsy’s assistance in her packing while she sat down to write a note to Winterton. She felt sure that he would not understand her defection. Somehow the drive in the park had assumed large dimensions for her, and she sensed that it was a crucial point in their relationship. With a sigh she dipped the pen in the standish and wrote:

  Dear Lord Winterton, I received a letter from my Aunt Eleanor this morning, and its contents make it imperative that Ralph and I leave for Daventry immediately. I regret that I must break our appointment to drive this afternoon. As I may go straight to the Hall without returning to London, I would appreciate your having Mr. Single obtain the books from Mr. Hicksley, the printer, in Bond Street Wednesday next.

  Yours most sincerely, Katherine Montgomery

  Kate rang for a footman to deliver the letter straight away to Winterton House and then finished her packing. Her spirits were perhaps lower than they ought to have been. She gave herself a mental shake and went off to bid her parents a hasty farewell.

  * * * *

  Winterton was informed that a note had been brought round from Brook Street while he sipped tea in his bed (not quite so elaborate as the one at Winter Manor) and contemplated the afternoon’s drive. This intelligence brought an immediate frown, and he lifted the letter from the tray with annoyance. It could be nothing but a cancellation of the drive, and he was loath to read it. He waved his valet out of the room and, holding the letter in a tight grip, contemplated the inscription for some time before breaking the seal. When he had finished reading the short note he crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room toward the grate. Damn the woman!