“Not be at Kat’s wedding!” Mariah wailed, rushing to her sister’s side to embrace her.
“No, Mariah, do not be upset,” Kathryn soothed. “It will be all right, never fear.”
Lady Tutwilliger fixed Jules with a cool stare. “Well, Comte, we have yet to hear from you regarding this plan.”
“I am at the disposal of my betrothed’s wishes,” he uttered, bowing and meeting Kathryn’s truly remarkable eyes. Fear no longer lurked there, instead there was a glimmer of determination and, yes, excitement. He was just beginning to understand this willowy beauty had the heart of an adventurer.
Suddenly he needed to know one fact. “I ask only one question. Does our arranged marriage keep Lady Kathryn from going where her heart dictates?”
Every eye in the room turned to Kathryn. She didn’t seem to notice. She returned his gaze steadily, her beautiful eyes clear and wide. “My heart is my own, Monsieur le Comte,” she answered quietly.
Oddly, Jules’s heart gave one strong thud and he had to take a deep breath before it began, again, to beat normally.
“Then, my dear, we are for France.”
Gwynneth Tutwilliger settled more deeply into the blue velvet pillows of her traveling coach, extremely relieved it was so well sprung. She was utterly and completely exhausted. The Thistlewait children were a handful, but they were as dear to her as if they were her own. Actually, she thought of them as hers, for their own mother, Bettina, had died when the twins were only five, and she had more or less had the rearing of them. When no one else would, she had stood by Francis Thistlewait. But, after all, they had been friends since the cradle. How could she have done any less? She didn’t regret a moment. They were scamps, but she adored them and was determined to see them all happily settled.
Another deep sob broke from Mariah that Lady Tutwilliger could ignore no longer.
“What are you sniffling about?”
Mariah looked up, her lashes drenched with tears. “We must go back to the inn. You cannot sacrifice Kat on the altar of respectability. Her romantic nature will never survive a loveless marriage.”
Impressed with Mariah’s persistent desire to aid her sister, Lady Tutwilliger folded her arms across her ample bosom and gave her an encouraging smile. “What do you suggest, Miss?”
“I shall take Jacko and Kat and retire to the country.” She sniffed. “Eventually the scandal will die down. Jacko is such an Adonis, he will, in time, make a brilliant match. Kat will find true love, just as she’s always wanted.” Another sniff escaped and Mariah dabbed at her eyes with a scrap of lace. “And I … I will devote myself to good works!”
“Oh, ho!” laughed the indulgent godmother. “And what about Mr. Vanderworth?”
Mariah paled, staring back at her with the amazing Thistlewait eyes, brightened by strong emotion. “My duty and love for my family is greater than any … any slight … regard I might have for Mr. Vanderworth.” Mariah thrust up her softly rounded chin. “I demand we return to the inn, Willy.”
“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’ll all be the death of me! That minx you call sister has no intention of going through with this marriage. But she won’t pull a fast one on me. I shall send a missive straight away to dear Sybilla. That can be a formidable family, when united. The comte will do the proper and Kat will have no say in it.”
Mariah stared at her in horror. “Willy, how can you be so cruel? Kat intends to marry for love like Mama and Papa.”
Too good-hearted to bear any more of Mariah’s sobs, Lady Tutwilliger leaned over and patted her hands. “Buck up, my dear. Did you get a good look at the comte? Never saw a man more cut out to be a girl’s romantic hero. Kat will be head over heels in love with the handsome rogue in no time or my name isn’t Gwynneth Euterpe Frogmorton Tutwilliger!”
Chapter 4
Kat flung back her head to breathe in the salty air of the English Channel. She loved the sea; there was a dichotomy that appealed to her senses—the regular rhythms of the tide versus the sudden violent storms. She could hardly believe she was here on a packet to France, supposedly on her way to being married. Married to a stranger purely because they had spent five minutes together upon the same bed by accident. It was utterly ridiculous! She did not feel the tiniest bit guilty that she had fibbed to Willy. Well, perhaps the tiniest bit, particularly when their trunks had been waiting for them on the wharf, just as Lady Tutwilliger had promised, and with them, a note from her godmother that made Kat slightly misty eyed. She would make it up to dear Willy somehow. But she simply could not wed where she did not love.
“Lady Kathryn, I trust the accommodations are satisfactory for you and Miss Hamilton.”
She turned to face the man the world thought her intended husband. The fresh damp air of the channel had coiled its fingers through his dark hair so now it no longer fell straight across his forehead, but bent in the slightest wave near his riband.
“Quite satisfactory, thank you, Monsieur le Comte. Miss Hamilton has already retired for the duration of the crossing. She does not care for ships or water or travel.”
“But you do?” he inquired, lifting that right brow which made his thin face look positively saturnine.
“Yes, I love it! The idea of sailing to far-off places, seeing new sights. It is such an adventure!” She laughed with the pure excitement of it, then suddenly realized she was perhaps saying more than she should. “Lady Tutwilliger feels that I am perhaps a trifle too adventuresome,” she added in what she hoped was a demure tone.
“Does she really?” he asked cordially, and although Kat could see nothing but polite interest on his face, she most definitely had heard a thread of laughter in his voice. She wasn’t surprised. No doubt he thought them all mentally deranged. He was as caught in this coil as she, and he was being remarkably forbearing to go along with her idea. Although in the end, he would also be free of their unfortunate entanglement.
As Kat had done throughout her life, she faced this crisis honestly. “My lord, I don’t know why you are being so kind as to go along with my plan.” She smiled. “But I promise I shall be as little trouble as possible, and as soon as we can reasonably depart from Château Saville, we shall. You may think all the Thistlewaits are to let in their attics, but I promise you all will end well.”
“Lady Kathryn, I think the Thistlewaits delightful, and I, too, believe this all will end well.” He gave her, just as he had in the bedchamber of the Blue Boar Inn, a real smile, one that warmed his dark gaze to chocolaty brown and once again caused visions of romantic heroes to flit through her thoughts.
“Then we understand one another,” Kat said firmly and gratefully.
The comte’s stare seemed particularly piercing to Kat as he reached for her hand. “Lady Kathryn, I—”
Hands suspended in midair, they were suddenly separated by Jacko. He rushed up out of nowhere effectively shutting off their moment of intimacy. “Sorry, Saville. Must borrow my sister.”
Kat could do no more than nod as Jacko hurried her off. She experienced a faint disappointment that he had not been able to finish his sentence. Certainly it would be more comfortable for all concerned if everything were firmly settled between them. Jacko dragged her below to the narrow passageway.
“Jacko, what is—?” She was cut rather abruptly off by her brother’s hand over her mouth.
“Listen!” he whispered urgently, motioning his head to the door behind her.
Straining her ear to the wooden panel, Kat caught the unmistakable sobs of a woman.
She gently pushed her brother’s palm from her face. “It is a girl crying.”
“Saw them board. Couldn’t see the girl’s face. Wrapped in a hooded cloak. But saw him. Sir Edmund Trigge. Man’s such a bounder, wouldn’t put kidnapping past him.”
Kat recognized the fire in her twin’s eyes, so
like her own. They had always shared the one common passion: be it bringing home wounded birds for the groom to nurse or collecting stray kittens, once they’d even tried to introduce a baby skunk into the household. They just couldn’t turn away from any creature in need.
Just the other night, Kat had really had to fight all her instincts, and had left that girl—
“Heavens, Caroline Strange!” Kat gasped, suddenly realizing who was probably behind the door. “Jacko, where is Sir Edmund?”
“Taking a turn on deck. Saw him when I was looking for you and Saville.”
“Keep watch on the stairs. Whistle a warning if he returns. I’m going to find out what’s going on here,” she whispered, shooing him to his post before knocking.
“Miss Strange … Miss Strange, it is Lady Kathryn Thistlewait. Please let me in. I can help you,” she stated calmly and clearly, showing a confidence she wasn’t quite sure she possessed.
She sighed in relief and stepped back when eager fumblings on the inside proved the door would be opened to her. Two red-rimmed periwinkle blue eyes peeked out through a small crack.
“Are you alone?” uttered a breathless little voice.
At Kat’s nod the door creaked open just enough for her to slip through and then immediately slammed shut, Caroline Strange pushing the bolt firmly into place. The face she turned to Kat was drained of all color except for red swollen patches showing a bout of recent weeping.
“You must help me!” she pleaded before throwing herself, sobbing, into Kat’s arms.
Caroline Strange was so tiny, even more diminutive than Mariah, so Kat felt a veritable amazon beside her. Her protective instincts aroused to a fever pitch, Kat led the hysterical girl to the bed and seated her, keeping a reassuring arm around her.
“You must stop crying so. Here, take my handkerchief.” Kat soothed. “Yes, that’s right. Dry your eyes so we may talk.”
“My life is over,” uttered Caroline, her huge, terrified, blue eyes filling her pale face.
Dread filled Kat’s heart. What had the bounder done to this poor girl? “Start at the beginning,” she encouraged, patting Caroline’s hands where they tugged nervously on the damp handkerchief.
“You saw us that night at Lady Sefton’s. Sir Edmund proposed.”
“Good god, how dare he! Where was your chaperon? Tell me how this came about,” Kat demanded gently.
“Oh! My papa was a nabob, you know, and when he died two years ago his solicitor, Sir George Bartholomew, became my guardian. But Sir George never leaves Northumberland, so he sent me for my come-out to his cousin’s, Mrs. Appleton’s, who is related to the Earl of Lester. But I do not believe she likes me over much for she lets me go and come as I please.”
Such wanton disregard for this young girl’s reputation fairly made Kat’s blood boil. “Then she did not discourage you from seeing Sir Edmund?”
“On the contrary, she encouraged me. I … I believe she wished me off her hands. I tried to do the best I could, but I don’t know London Society very well. And, oh, Sir Edmund can be very nice when he wishes. I thought I was lucky to catch his notice—him being so much older and wiser.” At this a new wave of weeping overcame Caroline so it was some few minutes before Kat could encourage her to go on.
“Why are you here, on board this ship for France? He … he didn’t kidnap you, did he?”
Hiccupping, Caroline shook her head. “It is worse. We are eloping.”
Aghast, Kat could only sit in stunned silence.
“I know I am beyond redemption,” Caroline sobbed. “But it seemed so romantic! He said he couldn’t wait to make me his bride. But I am beginning to see it is my fifty thousand pounds a year he cannot wait to make his own.” Burying her face in her palms, Caroline gave in to a fit of uncontrollable weeping.
Kat consoled the younger girl as best she could; all the while her mind was searching wildly about for a solution to Caroline’s predicament. Kat herself had a broken engagement, but a broken elopement … when Caroline had been alone with that man … simply was not…
It was so simple Kat laughed out loud.
Caroline raised her tear drenched face in shock to stare at Kat in bewilderment.
“Did you leave a note?” Kat asked urgently.
“Yes, I told Mrs. Appleton I was going home to Northumberland.”
“Wonderful! That will do nicely. Then when we arrive in Calais, my chaperon, Miss Hamilton, shall send a missive to Mrs. Appleton informing her your plans have changed. You have gone to a house party at the Château Saville with your dear friend, Lady Kathryn Thistlewait. A similar note shall be dispatched to Sir George.”
“You would do this for me?” A brilliant smile lit her heart-shaped face, still Caroline Strange looked like a wilted angel. “But I hardly know you.”
“Believe me, my dear, I understand your predicament and am happy to be of assistance. Besides, I will enjoy your company. Hurry now, we must be gone before Sir Edmund returns. Do you have any belongings?”
Slipping off the bed, Caroline grabbed a small satchel. “This is all I have,” she said, with new animation just bursting forth on her face.
“Good. Come.” Kat unlocked the door, and taking her hand, led Caroline out into the corridor. They had only taken two steps when Kat heard her brother’s whistle and, an instant later, Sir Edmund Trigge blocked their way.
The pallid eyes Kat remembered too well from the night of Lady Sefton’s flickered over her and stopped to rest on Caroline. She shrunk closer to Kat’s side.
“What do we have here?” Sir Edmund asked in an all-too-knowing way.
It was everything Kat could do not to retreat before him; but she stood her ground, secure that Jacko was nearby.
“I am simply fetching my dear friend, Miss Strange, to my cabin where she will be more comfortable,” Kat answered firmly, thrusting up her chin.
Edmund Trigge was not overly tall so they were very nearly eye to eye. Kat saw his gaze narrow thoughtfully. He glanced around and dismissed Jacko, standing a little behind him, as if he were of no consequence.
“There is some mistake. Miss Strange is my guest,” he said smoothly, reaching out one pale hand toward Caroline who was clinging tightly to Kat’s arm.
“It’s you who’s mistaken, Trigge,” Jacko snapped, shoving in front of him. “Miss Strange is with my party.”
Rigid with indignation, Edmund returned Jacko’s glare. “You young pup, stay out of this! ’Tis none of your affair. Come, Caroline, we shall return to our room.”
Jacko moved purposively to block his way.
“Sir, I demand you step aside or answer the consequences!” Edmund hissed bitingly.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Jacko remained in place and motioned his sister to take Caroline and move on. In that instant there was a look on Trigge’s scarlet face that made fear congeal in Kat’s chest. She braced to fling herself forward between them, but, suddenly Edmund’s eyes flickered to a movement behind her and all color drained from his face.
“Saville!” he croaked hoarsely, falling back one pace.
“What a charming gathering,” the comte remarked, lifting that devilish eyebrow. “But isn’t it a trifle cramped down here? Perhaps we should all adjourn to the salon and finish this discussion.” “There is nothing to discuss,” Edmund uttered, recovering somewhat. “Miss Strange is under my care. She must stay with me.”
The comte’s piercing stare studied each face, finally staying on Kat’s. She sent him her most beseeching look, much like the one she had given him in the Blue Boar Inn. Now, as then, there was an answering flicker of a reassuring smile.
“And what does Miss Strange have to say?” the comte asked softly, catching Caroline’s terrified eyes in his warm gaze.
Caroline appeared mesmerized for an instant before looki
ng imploringly toward Kat. At her nod, Caroline threw up her head.
“Sir Edmund is mistaken. I am going to the Château Saville with Lady Kathryn and her brother.”
“Well, there you have it,” the comte remarked softly, striding forward to clear a path and motioning Kat and Caroline through. “Perhaps Miss Strange would like to rest before her tea.”
Following the comte’s directions Kat moved her charge, whose eyes seemed fixed on her toes, past Edmund.
He stood shaking with rage, fists clenched at his sides and muttered something in a low tone that Kat could not quite make out.
The comte had also heard. “Did you say something, Trigge?” he snapped.
Paling again, Edmund stepped back, making a mocking bow. “Only that we shall meet again, Saville.”
“Damn bounder!” Jacko uttered when he’d disappeared up the stairs. “Thought I might have to call him out.”
“Jacko, don’t be foolish,” Kat gasped. Fear for his impetuous nature let unfeigned concern color her tone. The last thing she needed was another scandal. Besides she wasn’t sure Edmund Trigge could be relied upon to act with honor and refuse the much younger and less-experienced man’s challenge.
“It is all my fault!” Caroline cried, burying her face in Kat’s shoulder, dampening her puffed silk sleeve.
Jacko’s aquamarine eyes instantly filled with compassion and, contrite, he shuffled his feet. “Dash it, didn’t mean to upset her.”
“Jacko, we shall take ourselves off and let your sister and Miss Hamilton handle this,” the comte ordered before giving an elegant leg to Kat. “However, I believe you and I should meet before dinner, Lady Kathryn.”
Kat was filled with chagrin. However was she going to explain to the comte that she had added another member to this rather unorthodox house party?
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