“‘Love’s Philosophy’?”
She grinned. This was easy. Just as with his wall, she had no idea how she knew the correct answers, but she did. “Percy Bysshe Shelley.”
“And who is Samuel Coleridge?”
This answer too came to mind without effort. “He wrote ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,’ of course.”
“Robert Burns?”
“As fair as thou, my bonnie lass, so deep in love am I,” she said without pause. The words were simply there in her head. “And I will love thee still, my dear, till all the seas gang dry.” She smiled at him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“‘A Red, Red Rose.’ Very good.” He smiled. “It is indeed beautiful and most romantic.”
“I must be a romantic sort of person. I think it’s one of my favorites.” Excitement washed through her. “It is one of my favorites! I know that, Oliver. Isn’t that lovely?”
“Lovely perhaps but not overly useful especially as we are fairly certain you’re from Scotland and Robert Burns is considered one of Scotland’s greatest poets.”
“Still, it’s something more than I knew about myself a few minutes ago.” Why wasn’t he as pleased as she was? Certainly, she was no closer to knowing her own name but knowing what she liked could surely be considered a step in the right direction. His attitude was most annoying.
“Enough of poetry. Let us determine what you know of geography or history.”
“Goodness, Oliver.” Impatience edged her voice. “As much as I appreciate the effort you’ve shown, I do know what country I’m in and I daresay if you showed me a map I could fairly well identify the rest of the world. As for history, Victoria is the current queen and has been since 1837. Rome once ruled a great empire and before the Romans, Alexander of Macedonia, a Greek, conquered most of the civilized world. And on that map, I can certainly show you where Greece and Rome are located.” She huffed. “My apologies, but this seems pointless. Any knowledge of history or geography doesn’t seem to have the least bit to do with knowing about me.”
“I’m simply trying to ascertain your level of education,” he said in a lofty manner. “In order to determine…”
“In order to determine what?” An awful suspicion occurred to her.
“It just seems to me…” Unease sounded in his voice. “If we know how educated you are—”
“Then we would know my place in society? Whether or not I properly belong at Lord Norcroft’s table?” She narrowed her eyes. “Or in his kitchens.”
“No, of course not.” He scoffed, belying the guilty look in his eye, and took a step backward. “One can tell just by looking at you—”
“One can tell what?” She moved toward him.
“That you are…” He took another step back and hit the table.
“That I am what?”
Caught between the library table and Kate, he had the look of a rat in a trap. “Could you move back?”
“No.”
He glanced from side to side as if looking for escape. “This is extraordinarily uncomfortable.”
“Good.”
“See here now, Kate,” he began in his best Earl of Norcroft voice.
“That I am what, my lord?” She glared at him. “Finish what you started to say.”
He shook his head. “On further consideration, I don’t think—”
“Apparently you don’t think! That I am what?” She ground out the words through clenched teeth.
“Well bred,” he said with a wince. “A proper lady.”
Anger choked her words. “A proper lady?”
“There are certain things a lady is expected to know,” he muttered. “It seemed to me, given the circumstances, and as you are living in my home—”
“You wanted to make certain I wasn’t going to steal the silver?”
“No.” He scoffed then paused to consider the question. “No,” he said again firmly.
Oh, the man was infuriating. “You’re testing me, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know that I’d call it—”
“I don’t care what you call it, it’s a test.” She stared at him. “A trial of…of…I don’t know what but a trial nonetheless.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I am torn between laughing aloud and slapping you across the face.”
His expression brightened. The rat had spotted a way out. “If I might offer some advice—”
She ignored him. “On one hand, you are utterly absurd and unworthy of any response save laughter.”
He nodded. “Laughter is always good. One should be able to laugh at the foibles of—”
“On the other hand, your actions are offensive and insulting and certainly deserve to be responded to in a manner appropriate.”
“Still, appropriate often depends—”
Without thinking, she drew her hand back and smacked him across the face.
“Ouch!” His eyes widened and he clapped his hand to his face. “That hurt!”
Shock turned her stomach and she stared in horror. “I can’t believe I did that.”
“Neither can I.” He rubbed his face.
She stepped back and twisted her hands together. “I would wager I have never struck anyone before.”
“If it helps you remember—”
“No, no, it’s just a feeling but it’s a very strong feeling.”
“I must say you did it remarkably well for someone who does not strike others.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I was inspired.”
He glared at her. “It was not intended as a compliment.”
“I must tell you I am as surprised by my action as you are. I didn’t think I was the type of person who would resort to violence, even when provoked. Although,” she drew a deep breath, “I do feel better.”
“I’m glad I could be of service.”
“Even so, it’s most distressing.” She turned away from him and paced the room. “To discover you are the kind of person who could do bodily harm—”
“I did provoke you.”
“Yes.” She stopped and pinned him with a firm look. “You did indeed.”
“I was a cad. A beast. A—”
“A lord.” She sighed. “An earl with numerous responsibilities. One can hardly blame you for your suspicions. For doing what you feel you must to determine the truth.”
He cast her a relieved smile. “Which just confirms our previous conclusion that you are indeed a rational, practical sort.”
“And yet, somehow,” her gaze narrowed, “I do blame you.”
“My apologies. My intent was not to upset you.”
“I feel rather dreadful as well. Guilt, I suppose.” She pressed her hands against her midsection. “My stomach positively turned when I struck you. The sound of my hand hitting your cheek. The sting of the blow.”
“It was no better from my perspective.”
She studied her palm then shook her hand. “It still stings a bit.”
“Again,” he said in a dry manner. “My apologies.”
“Accepted,” she said absently then looked at him. “Obviously I feel a certain amount of remorse. Does that help?”
“No.”
“Come now, it should help a wee bit. Apparently I have a conscience, which is good to know.”
“I know I’m pleased,” he said, again rubbing his face.
“Perhaps you should consider it yet another test.”
“It’s not on my list.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm, Oliver,” she said in a fair imitation of his mother, then paused. “You’ve written a list?”
“Don’t be absurd.” He shrugged. “It’s in my head.”
“It must be a very short list then.”
His eyes narrowed. “It’s getting longer.”
“Regardless of your actions, it was unforgivable of me to have allowed my emotions to get the better of me. I believe I am a better person than that. And I am sorry to have caused you pain.” Impulsively she moved to him and
rested her hand on his cheek. “Does it hurt terribly?”
He grabbed her hand. “Not terribly.” He kissed her palm.
She jerked her hand away. “Why did you do that?”
“I don’t know, it seemed the thing to do.” He grinned in an unrepentant manner and her anger faded.
“You’re being charming again.”
He leaned toward her. “I do it well.”
“I can see that.” Her heart sped up in her chest. He was a scant few inches away, his lips a mere breath from her own.
“I consider it one of my finest accomplishments.” His gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips. Dear Lord, was he going to kiss her? Here? Now?
“Do you?” Even worse, what if he had no intention of kissing her?
“Would you care to know of my other accomplishments?” His voice was low with promise. Enticing and seductive.
Seductive? Good Lord, the man was trying to seduce her! In his library no less!
“Kate?”
At once she realized she wouldn’t hesitate to allow such a seduction, which was as distressing as knowing that she wouldn’t—she hadn’t—hesitate to strike him. Not only was she a tart, she was an overly emotional tart with a tendency toward violence!
No. Resolve washed through her and she straightened her shoulders. “Very well then, let’s get on with it.”
“You don’t mind?” he said cautiously.
“Why should I mind?” She shrugged. “You think it’s necessary and I daresay, in your situation, I too might well think it’s necessary.”
“I’m not sure I think it’s necessary.” He cast her a devilish smile that, at another time, would have melted her resistance. Or any other woman’s. “Delightful perhaps but not necessary.”
“I may not know who I am, Oliver, but I am fairly certain I know what I am. I am not a thief. I am not attempting to corrupt the morals of an older woman or her idiot son.”
His brows drew together. “Being the idiot son in question I’m not sure I under—”
“And I am not—” she leaned close enough to brush her lips across his and steeled herself against the thrill that shot through her at the bare touch—“a tart that you may seduce at will.”
He stared at her for a long moment then a wicked grin creased his lips. “Pity.”
She stepped back. “You are incorrigible, my lord.”
“Nonsense. I am entirely,” he searched for a word, “corrigible.”
She snorted. “I doubt that. Your intentions are—”
“My dear Kate, as I said yesterday, when I intend to kiss you, you will know it.” He paused, then shrugged and without warning pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips hard to hers for an infinite, searing moment. Shock shot through her and with it desire. She wanted him with an all encompassing, inexplicable need that spread from his touch through her blood to curl her toes. And it scarcely mattered if she were a tart or if this was her very first kiss.
He raised his head and grinned down at her. “Did I leave any doubt in your mind?”
“No.” She pushed out of his arms.
“And when I intend to seduce you—”
She struggled to catch her breath and tried as well not to let him see what effect one mere kiss had had. “I might well be married, you know.”
“That too would be a pity.”
“Your standards preclude seduction of a married woman?”
“Thus far.”
She stared at him and said the first thing that came into her head. “Then we can only hope I am not wed.” Before he could reply she drew a deep breath. “What’s next, Oliver?”
He chuckled. “Usually, at this point—”
“No, I mean what’s next on your list of ways to determine my position in life?” She studied him closely. “Dare I ask how I am doing thus far?”
“Quite well actually.” He ticked the points off on his fingers. “Obviously, you are well educated. You speak French. You know which fork to use.”
She glared at him. “You watched me eat?”
“I observed,” he said in a superior tone. “It’s an entirely different matter than merely watching.”
“It’s exactly the same. Well.” She tapped her foot impatiently. “What do you intend to observe now?”
“You needn’t take that tone. It’s not at all easy to determine if a woman is a lady.” He frowned. “Under these circumstances that is.”
“My apologies if this is awkward for you. Now then.” She squared her shoulders. “We have determined that I am well educated and that I can properly eat a meal. What else should a lady know.”
“Needlework?” he said hopefully.
“Nonsense.” She waved off his suggestion. “I daresay a woman of any station would be skillful with a needle and I am not about to waste my time by embroidering a clever saying on a pillow for you.”
He chuckled. “I can well imagine what that saying might be at the moment.”
“Oh, I don’t think you can.” She drew a deep breath. “Anything else?”
“There is more on the list.” He considered the question. “Perhaps we should continue this out of doors? With activities appropriate for a lady.”
She cast him her sweetest smile. “I can scarcely wait.”
“Sarcasm is not becoming in a lady,” he said firmly.
She stared at him for a moment then laughed. “You sound like a governess.”
He had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I must have heard that somewhere.”
She took pity on him. “What kind of appropriate activities?”
“We should determine if you can properly sit a horse. I suspect that would be very telling. If you are familiar with croquet—it’s quite popular, you know.”
“Croquet,” she said slowly. “Yes, that does sound familiar. And golf. I believe I know how to play golf.”
“Women don’t generally play golf, Kate,” he said in a gentle manner that was meant to be kind but was most condescending nonetheless. She felt as if she were a small child and he was patting her on the head.
“Regardless, I believe I do.” She thought for a moment. “And archery. Is that on your list of acceptable pursuits for a lady?”
“My mother won a number of competitions in her youth. She was quite good as I recall.”
“As, I suspect, am I.” She nodded and started toward the door. “I noticed a target yesterday, shall we find out?”
“I’m not at all certain it’s wise to arm you with any weapon whatsoever,” he said under his breath.
She smiled but held her tongue.
“Kate.” He followed a step behind her. “I do hope you realize I am just trying to help you find out who you are.”
“And whether I am worthy of being your guest or your servant.”
“Kate.” He blew an exasperated breath.
“Oliver.” She turned on her heel to face him. “I accept that in your place I would no doubt continue to harbor a certain amount of suspicion as to who I really am and what I might want. I realize that in your charming but extremely infuriating and even insulting way you are indeed trying to be of assistance. And I understand as well that you have as little idea about how to do that as I do.”
He huffed. “I think I’ve done exceptionally well, given that I’ve never tried to ascertain someone’s identity before.”
She raised a brow.
“Well, I haven’t succeeded as of yet.”
“But you are trying and one should receive credit for that.” She bit back a smile. The man could indeed be endearing and it was extremely difficult to maintain a proper amount of anger at him for very long. She headed for the door. “Come along. I am eager to find out how I feel with a bow in my hand.”
“As are we all,” he muttered from behind her.
“Perhaps it will bring back all sorts of memories.”
“With any luck.”
“Queen Mary of Scotland played golf you know,” she said over her shoulder to hide t
he fact that she wasn’t at all sure how to get from the library in the manor to the outdoors.
“I didn’t know that.”
“Apparently I do.” As much as she did seem well versed in history, that fact struck her as more than a little obscure. Still it was something.
“She did not end well.” A warning sounded in his voice.
“I have no doubt, Oliver, that my own ending shall be much better,” she said with a confidence she didn’t quite feel.
Kate could be lighthearted and amused with Oliver and she could certainly be angry with him but she would prefer he not know how very frightened she was. It struck her that she was the kind of person who didn’t let anyone know when she was afraid.
And she didn’t know if that was good or very, very bad.
Chapter 8
Oliver preferred not to think of himself as his mother’s idiot son but today, with his brilliant idea of how to determine Kate’s position in life, he may well have earned that title. It was absurd of course. One could tell just by spending a few minutes in her presence that she was indeed a proper lady.
Kate examined the bow given her by Hollinger who had fetched Lady Norcroft’s archery equipment and now stood ready to assist Kate in whatever manner she might need. Oliver would prefer Hollinger return to the house but he suspected the long-time family retainer would gnaw off one of his own appendages rather than miss whatever was going to transpire next.
Oliver was quite certain that the entire houseful of servants and his own mother hadn’t missed a thing. Hollinger and Lady Norcroft were often coconspirators. Since the butler had appeared with bow and quiver before Oliver had the chance to request them, it was clear that someone had been listening at the library door.
His mother was convinced Kate’s origins were legitimate, a point she had pressed after Kate had retired last night. While she hadn’t said it in so many words, it was obvious that she thought Kate was the answer to her prayers for a match for her son. Under other circumstances, she might be right.
Kate rested the end of the bow on the ground, braced it against her foot, and strung it in an efficient manner then turned her attention to the quiver of arrows Hollinger presented. Unless she was a very, very good actress Oliver was now fairly confident she had indeed lost her memory. Every now and again there was a look in her eye, the look of someone frightened and lost. In spite of his intentions, that brief, fleeting shadow in her green eyes tugged at his heart.
Seduction of a Proper Gentleman (Last Man Standing) Page 9