The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

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The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow Page 3

by Melinda McRae


  Heat flashed to Kat’s face and she balled up her fists in pure rage at the stinging insult. How dare this . . . this interloper say such a thing to her.

  “Would you care to . . . repeat that?” she demanded.

  “He called you a trollop,” Eddie said helpfully, then looked around. “What’s a trollop?”

  “A young woman who does not behave as she ought,” Newkirk said.

  “Do you stand by those words, sir?” Kat asked.

  Newkirk gave a slight nod of his head.

  “Then I demand satisfaction,” she replied. “You cannot insult me with impunity.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, quit acting like a hotheaded jackanapes.” He gave a disgusted sigh. “You’re a female and it’s time you started looking—and acting—like one.”

  Nick took a step forward. “I do think you owe my sister an apology,” he said, his voice low and tight.

  Newkirk glanced at him, and then back to Kat. “I will apologize to your sister—when she appears before me dressed properly as a lady.”

  “I will do no such thing,” Kat said. “Did you bring pistols with you, or should you care to borrow a set of ours?”

  “Don’t talk nonsense.” Newkirk gave her a dark look. “No one is going to be shooting off any pistols.”

  “Do you refuse my challenge?” Kat demanded.

  “Of course I do,” Newkirk snapped. “I cannot duel with a female.”

  “Then accept mine.” Nick took another step toward him.

  Newkirk flung up his hands. “Are all the members of this household mad? I’m your guardian—you cannot challenge me.”

  “I can, and did,” Nick said. “Do you accept, or do you concede your honor?”

  “This is ridiculous,” Newkirk said, his fury apparent in the tightness of his voice. “Pistols it is. At dawn, I suppose?”

  “Right now is good enough,” Kat said. “Sam, get the pistols from the gun room.” She glanced coolly at Newkirk. “Would you like Thomas to be your second? He’s quite skilled at loading.”

  “I can load my own pistol, thank you very much,” Newkirk said curtly.

  Sam returned with four guns, which he lay on the table, along with powder and balls.

  “You may choose first,” Nick said to Newkirk.

  “Oh, thank you for your hospitality,” he said sourly and grabbed one of the pistols.

  Kat watched as he expertly loaded it. He had not been protesting out of lack of skill. Good. It would make matters more interesting.

  Nick quickly loaded a second pistol.

  “Where do you want this farce to take place?” Newkirk demanded.

  “The lawn out front is best,” Nick said. “The ground is fairly level.”

  “Then let’s get this over with. Our dinner, no doubt, is growing cold.” Newkirk marched out of the room.

  Newkirk was furious at how these striplings had backed him into a corner. When those brats tied him to the chair, Val had not thought his life could possibly get worse. Now, because of the obstinacy of these hell-spawned children, he had to endure this charade of a duel. He could concede, of course. But something told him that if he did, he’d never gain their respect. Once on the dueling field, he would delope and that would be the end of it.

  Dueling with one of his own wards. He’d never heard of such nonsense. And he hoped that no one else learned of his folly—he’d be the laughing stock of the entire country.

  “Take your spots, gentlemen,” Sam said with the casual aplomb of one who managed duels on a daily basis. For all Val knew, he did. The family was probably the bane of the entire county.

  “Pace off ten steps, turn, and then shoot at will,” the little commander explained.

  “Will honor be satisfied with a delope?” Val asked.

  Sam nodded. “We observe the official rules here.”

  “Fine.” Val hastily paced off his ten steps, and turned sideways to present a narrow target to his opponent. Not that it mattered; he and Nick would both shoot into the air and the matter would be over with.

  He looked at his opponent and found himself staring at that blasted girl.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” he said, and carelessly fired his pistol into the air. “Are you happy now?”

  As if in a dream, Val saw the flare of flame and powder, heard the crack of the pistol, and felt a sharp sting on his left buttock. His hand went to the sting; he pulled it away. It was streaked with red.

  “She shot me!” he exclaimed, staring at his bloodstained hand with growing realization. “The bitch shot me!”

  Chapter Three

  Kat turned to share a grin of triumph with Nick, but her brother was staring at her, his face ashen. He grabbed the still-smoking gun from her hand.

  “What have you done?” he demanded.

  Kat glanced back at the baron, who regarded her with an expression of disbelief.

  “Get into the house, now!” Nick hissed. “I’ll try to salvage something from this mess.” He gave her a none-too-gentle swat on the rear and pushed her toward the steps.

  With one last disdainful glare at Newkirk, Kat stalked off to the house.

  That would teach him to insult her.

  She fixed herself a tray of food from the dining room and carried it upstairs. No telling how long it would be before the others sat down to eat and she was hungry. Besides, Newkirk would no doubt be moaning and groaning about his “terrible” wound, when she’d barely nicked him. Just enough to teach him a lesson.

  At least she wouldn’t have to worry about him breaking her family apart now. He’d be eager to wash his hands of the lot of them, and they could go back to the way things had been this morning, before the high-and-mighty Baron Newkirk had intruded on their lives.

  The thought of his imminent departure cheered her so much that she ate her dinner with great relish and was just finishing the last bite of custard tart when a knock sounded on the door.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Sam, Eddie, and Thomas tumbled into the room.

  “Boy, are you in trouble!” Sam chortled.

  “The baron’s really mad,” Eddie said. “He’s still yelling at Nicky in the drawing room, and you can hear him clear to the top of the stairs.”

  “I think it would do the man good to vent a little spleen,” Kat said, with supreme indifference. “He has far too much of it.”

  “But if he gets too mad, he won’t let us go to the navy school,” Thomas protested. “I want to be a sailor!”

  “Me, too,” Sam added.

  “Nonsense,” Kat replied. “Fosters were not meant to be sailors.”

  “Does this mean I won’t be going away to school, either?” Eddie asked with a hopeful expression.

  “Away to school?” Kat stared at him, appalled. “He was going to send you away to school?”

  Eddie nodded solemnly and looked as if he would cry.

  Kat held out her arms and pulled him close. “Of course you are not going to be sent away to school. You will stay here with me and Sam and Thomas and Nicky, just like you always have.”

  “Promise?” he asked, looking up at her with a hint of tears in his eyes.

  “I promise.” She planted a kiss on his forehead. “Now, run back downstairs, you three, and see what else you can find out. Try to learn when Newkirk will be leaving.”

  “Not any time soon, if he intends to ride his horse,” Sam said with a snicker.

  “That was prime shooting,” Thomas added, admiration shining in his eyes.

  “Why, thank you,” Kat replied. “Now, go!”

  She was tempted to follow them downstairs and listen to the tirade coming from the drawing room, but she knew Nick would give her a full report later. And she admitted it probably would be smart of her to keep out of Newkirk’s sight for a time. The entire incident was his own fault, of course, but men were so reluctant to acknowledge their failings. There was no need to lord it over him. She could be a gracious victor.

  The minutes cr
awled by, and to her growing unease, neither Nick or the others appeared at her door. Surely, the baron’s tirade had worn itself out by now. If she did not receive any news soon, she intended to go downstairs and find out what was going on.

  Kat had given one last, impatient look at the clock and rose to her feet, heading for the door, when Nick finally appeared.

  “It’s about time,” she exclaimed. “I was beginning to think the baron had tied you to a chair.” Then she noticed the grim look on his face. “Nicky, what’s wrong?”

  “You have to get out of here—now,” he said.

  “What? Why?”

  “He’s planning to lay charges against you with the magistrate.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “He’s what? Is the man mad?”

  “Furious is the adjective I would use to describe him.” Nick shook his head. “You went too far this time, Kat.”

  “Nonsense. His nose is merely out of joint because I bested him.”

  “Be that as it may, we need to leave. Now. I’ve got Sam hitching the horses to the gig. Pack as many clothes as you can—I don’t know how long you’re going to have to stay away.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “To a friend’s,” he said. “Once I have you safely settled, I’ll come back and try to reason with the man.”

  “Why don’t we reason with him now?” she demanded. “His threats don’t frighten me—Petersham won’t charge me with anything.”

  “Petersham isn’t the magistrate anymore, in case you’ve forgotten. Ives has the task, and you know how he holds you in antipathy after you led the hunt through his kitchen garden last fall.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” She sighed. “I suppose I must resign myself to exile. A poor stranger, cut off from family and friends, left to shift for herself in a cold, cruel world.”

  “Lay off, Kat. This is truly serious. We can only hope that if you go away for a time, Newkirk will be willing to forget the whole matter.”

  “What about the boys?” she asked. “If you go with me, he’ll ship all three of them off to the navy before you return.”

  “I think they’ll be safe for a few days. Newkirk is not in a position to do much right now.”

  “I don’t know.” Kat felt uneasy at the thought of leaving her brothers alone with that man. “Maybe we should all leave.”

  “There isn’t room for all of us in the gig,” Nick said. “Now, hurry! Pack a bag so we can be gone. I want to be well away from here by morning.”

  “Ha! The man probably sleeps until noon.”

  “Don’t count on it. Just get ready—fast! Go down the back stairs and meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

  Kat was already throwing clothes into a portmanteau when he shut the door behind him.

  What was the matter with that horrid Newkirk? He wanted to break up her family, had roundly insulted her, and now threatened to drag her before the law for merely defending her family and her honor.

  Circumstances called for a temporary retreat, but if the baron thought that she was going to stand quietly by while he ruined her life, he was sadly mistaken. Kat vowed to not rest until he was out of their lives for good.

  * * *

  “Well?” Val glanced up as Nick reentered the drawing room. “Were you able to persuade her?”

  “She was packing as I left,” he said, then grinned. “I told her you were planning to call the magistrate.”

  “That is not such a bad idea.” Val took a step and winced at the pain the movement caused.

  “I know her actions were inexcusable,” Nick said hastily. “And I must accept part of the blame for giving her the gun, but believe me, I had no idea . . . Kat has always been a bit hotheaded and—”

  “Do not worry. I don’t intend to lay the matter before anyone. Fine picture it would make if I had to admit my own ward shot me in a duel,” Val said.

  “I’m certain she will wish to apologize when she has thought matters through.”

  “She can send me a letter.” Val winced, the throbbing in his rear growing stronger every minute. “You will send someone for my valet?”

  “Thomas,” Nick replied. “He could find his way to Wick- worth in the dark.”

  “I don’t care how easily he gets there—I just want to make certain he brings my man back.” Val limped over to the desk. “Now, here is my sister’s direction. I’ll post a letter first thing tomorrow, and with luck, it will arrive before you do.”

  “You are certain that she will not object to having a stranger thrust upon her?” Nick regarded him doubtfully.

  “Of course not.” Val handed him a leather wallet. “Here is money for your journey.”

  Nick drew himself stiffly upright. “I am able to pay for

  our expenses.”

  “More than likely you are,” Val said. “But take this anyway. I will bill the estate if it will make you feel any better.”

  Nick took the proffered money.

  “You are not going to alter your plans regarding . . . my brothers?” he asked anxiously.

  “What you really mean is am I still willing to get you a commission?” Val snorted. “Of course I am. You cannot help that your sister is an ill-mannered brat. In fact, I intended to suggest that you continue on to London after

  27 ·

  you deposit her at Sophie’s. I’ll send a letter to my staff— you can stay at the town house.” He shifted his weight to ease his growing discomfort. “No telling how long it will be until I can travel comfortably.”

  “You want me to stay in London?” Nick’s eyes widened in amazement.

  “Only if you promise to behave yourself.” Val realized belatedly that turning a young country lad loose in London without supervision was not perhaps the best of ideas. He’d send another letter to one of his army cronies and ask him to take Nick in tow.

  “Oh, that I will.” Nick regarded him eagerly. “Do you keep a stable in town?”

  “You’ll find a suitable mount for riding,” Val replied.

  “That’s wonderful!” The young man stared at him, as if unable to believe his luck.

  “I suggest you get back to your sister,” Val said. “It would not do for her to find us together—it might arouse her suspicions.”

  Nick swallowed hard, as if he suddenly remembered the part he still had to play in this upcoming drama. Val thought that having to face his sister’s wrath when she discovered she had been tricked into leaving the house would more than make up for Nick’s part in the duel.

  “I will deliver her safely to your sister’s home,” Nick said.

  Val nodded his dismissal and the lad slipped out. At least now he could be sure they would travel with speed—the sooner Nick freed himself from his sister, the sooner he would arrive in London.

  He almost wished he could be there to see the scene when the girl learned she’d been duped. He did not envy her brother one bit. Val had to hope that Sophie would be witness to it all and would send him a blow-by-blow account by letter.

  Because he was stuck here in this godforsaken place until his injury healed enough for him to travel. Which presupposed that his valet—who had acquired a great deal of medical knowledge while on the Peninsula—would eventually arrive to treat him. Val himself knew enough about medicine, but it was damned difficult to tend to your own posterior.

  It occurred to him, in a lowering thought, that she had shot him with great care and deliberation in a spot calculated to cause minimum damage but maximum discomfort. If he wasn’t in such pain, he could almost admire her skill.

  Val wondered if there was any brandy in the house he could use to ease the pain of his injury.

  “Now, Thomas, I am putting you in charge while I am gone.” Kat stood with her brothers in the kitchen. She turned to Sam and Eddie. “I expect you two to listen to him.”

  “Why can’t I be in charge?” Sam asked.

  “Because Thomas is the older.” She pretended not to see the triumphant sneer Thomas
gave his brother.

  “When are you coming back?” Sam asked.

  “As soon as I can,” Kat promised.

  “Why can’t we go with you?” Eddie demanded.

  “Because there is not room in the gig,” Kat explained. “Do not worry, Nicky will be back in no time.”

  “But I want you to stay.” Eddie looked about to break into tears again.

  “I will be back as soon as Newkirk is gone,” Kat said. “Now, promise me that you will stay out of his sight as much as possible until Nick returns.”

  “I bet we could tie him up again now that he’s wounded,” Sam said.

  “That is why Thomas is in charge,” Kat replied dryly. “He has sense enough not to try. You are to do absolutely nothing to that man, do you hear me?” She scanned then- faces, and they all nodded their reluctant agreements.

  “We need to be gone,” Nick said, dancing from foot to foot. “Time’s a wasting.”

  “Give me a hug and kiss,” Kat said, holding her arms out to her brothers.

  Eddie stepped into her embrace. She gave him a fierce hug, kissed him on the cheek, then released him. “Sam?”

  “I’m too big for kisses,” he said scornfully.

  “Samuel Foster! Come here this instant and give me a kiss or I’ll . . .”

  He reluctantly complied. Kat made her farewells to Thomas, then slipped out of the house to where Nick waited beside the gig. In the dark, she dashed tears from her cheeks, hoping her brother would not see.

  “I am worried about the boys while you are away,” she said as she scrambled into the seat.

  “Nothing is going to happen to them.”

  “Nothing except Newkirk.”

  “Newkirk, no doubt, is flat on his stomach, thanks to your shooting,” Nick replied acidly. “There is not much he can do to them from that position.”

  “But what if he sends them away while we are gone?”

  “They will be fine,” he repeated.

 

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