The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  “How could I be certain that I could trust any man to help me?” she asked.

  Sophie laughed. “My dear girl, you have a great deal to learn about men! They are eminently manageable, if you go about it in the right way.”

  “Will you teach me how?” Kat asked. “I dare not make a mistake—my family’s future depends on it.”

  “I can certainly advise you,” Sophie said.

  Kat considered the matter. She did not have to make up her mind this moment, after all, so she could afford to listen to what Sophie had to say. After all, nothing could happen until they went to London. And by then, much could have changed.

  Kat had never thought much about marriage. Oh, she’d received a few proposals, but from less-than-desirable candidates—Robbie Miller, the neighbor’s son, who couldn’t even sit a horse properly, or that friend of Nick’s with the spotty face and clammy hands. She assumed she would marry one day—it was what women did, after all. But that time had seemed far off; she’d been far more concerned with looking after her brothers. Now she was faced with the prospect of having to make the most monumental decision of her life in a very short time. It was a rather frightening prospect.

  Yet Kat had never shrunk from any challenge. She hoped to convince Newkirk to change his mind and let her brothers come home. She’d wear dresses, go to London, and act the perfect lady, all to make him think she was falling in

  with his plans. Yet all the time she would work to persuade him to send her and her brothers back to Kingsford.

  Only if that plan failed—and Kat had no intention of letting that happen—would she seriously consider marriage as a solution to her problem. But if marriage was the only way she could keep her family together, marriage it would have to be.

  Kat glanced over at Sophie again. “What did your brother have to say in your letter?”

  “Only that he wished us to come to London.” She wrinkled her nose. “And that I am to give you some semblance of ‘polish’ before I bring you to town.”

  Kat grinned. “Polish? What does he think, that I will ride bareback through Hyde Park, pistols in each hand?” Sophie’s face crumpled with mirth. “No, he’s afraid you’ll challenge the Prince of Wales to a duel.”

  “With that wide a target, even you couldn’t miss.”

  They both shook with laughter.

  “No, we must be serious,” Sophie said. “I must properly prepare you for your entree into society. And ladies do not laugh like this.”

  “Then we are both done for,” Kat said, setting Sophie off into fresh gales of laughter.

  “Oh, do stop,” she said, wiping her streaming eyes. “We must have a plan.”

  “I know!” Kat said. “I will go home. You go to London and flush out the game. Once you’ve found a suitable candidate, send him to me. We won’t have to even bother your brother.”

  “But London would be so dull without you,” Sophie protested. “Besides, Val would never permit it. This way, you will be able to see your older brother.”

  “I’m not certain I wish to see him, after what he’s done,” Kat said. “But if you say I must go, I guess I must. At least with you there, it will not be too awful.”

  “Oh, London is wonderful. We shall have so much fun! The shopping is glorious. I can spend hours merely deciding over the color of a pair of gloves. And the theater . . . well, sometimes it’s rather dull, but the activity in the pits is always amusing. And dancing.” Sophie gave her an intent look. “You can dance, can’t you?”

  Kat shrugged. “Not very well.”

  “Good! That is something else I can teach you. It’s not

  so difficult, and if you do make a mistake, you always pretend that it is your partner who stepped wrong. A gentleman will dare not argue.”

  “Do you really think I shall find someone who is willing to help me get my brothers back?” Kat asked.

  “You shall have to beat them off with sticks,” Sophie assured her. “Val will be overjoyed at your success. Why, you could be wed and have your brothers back with you before the summer is out.”

  “I think you are far too optimistic,” Kat said, shaking her head. If all went as she planned, they would be back at home by that time—and without any husband.

  “We will have fun, I promise,” Sophie said. “And find you a suitable husband in the process. I shall write Val and tell him we both agree to his plan.”

  She jumped to her feet, spilling her letter onto the floor. “Goodness, there is so much to do and so little time. I shall have to gather my fashion journals. And contact my modiste to see what she recommends.” She clapped her hands in glee. “I cannot wait to get started.”

  Kat returned her a doubtful smile. She feared that Sophie was going to make far too elaborate plans for what would turn out to be a short stay in London. But since Sophie had been so kind to her, Kat did not want to disappoint her. She would merely have to do what she could to keep Sophie’s exuberance in check.

  “What do you think of this dress?” Sophie pointed to a sketch in La Belle Assemblee. It was the following afternoon, and they sat in Sophie’s parlor, planning Kat’s wardrobe for London. Fashion journals covered the table as Sophie flipped through one after another, looking for illustrations she liked.

  Kat took one look at the dress and shook her head. “Too many flounces. I want something simpler.”

  “We could take the flounces off,” Sophie said, scanning the drawing closer. “Although it would not be nearly as pretty.”

  “I like this one.” Kat handed her a drawing of a dress more to her taste. “It’s plainer.”

  Sophie vehemently shook her head. “That’s a riding habit. Of course it is plain.”

  “It doesn’t have to be worn for riding, does it?” Kat asked.

  “Well ...” Sophie reluctantly considered the outfit.

  “And look at this coat!” Kat eagerly shoved another plate at her. “Four capes! I shall look like a regular dasher in that.”

  “You will look like a coachman,” Sophie protested.

  “Caped greatcoats are all the rage,” Kat insisted. “Even Nick says so.”

  “For young bucks trying to cut a dash.”

  “But is that not what you wish me to do—‘cut a dash’?”

  Sophie rolled her eyes. “I want you to look less like a boy, not more. Someone will see you wearing that in Hyde Park and challenge you to a duel before they notice you’re a female.”

  “Can I at least have the hat?” Kat pleaded, pointing to the sketch of a giant leghorn bonnet dripping with feathered plumes. “I do so like those feathers.”

  “You will not tolerate the tiniest flounce, but you want a hat that makes you look like a peacock nested on your head?” Sophie gave Kat an exasperated look.

  Kat couldn’t hold back any longer and burst out laughing.

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “You’re teasing me, aren’t you?’

  Kat smiled and pointed to another hat—a military shako with only a small plume. “Now, I honestly like this one.”

  “Much better,” Sophie said. “If only your hair were longer, we could make those small ringlets ...”

  “No curls,” Kat said, grimacing at the thought. “I’ll chop my hair off first.”

  “You are bound and determined to make this difficult, aren’t you?” Sophie sighed. “If you wish to tie up a gentleman as soon as possible, you need to play the fashion plate to draw their attention.”

  “Would it not be easier to put an advert in the Times'?” Kat asked. “ ‘Young lady with younger brothers looking for suitable husband to take over guardianship of same. Must be cheerful, knowledgeable of horseflesh, have a good seat, and drive to an inch. Regular hunt subscription a bonus.’ ”

  Sophie burst into laughter. “I daresay it might work. But I do not think Val would approve.”

  “All the more reason to do it.”

  “Kat, you dare not antagonize Val too much, or he might not be willing to give up the guardianship of
your brothers.”

  Kat made a face. Being civil, even amiable, to her guardian was going to be the hardest part of her plan.

  Sophie gave her hand an encouraging squeeze. “Remember, you are doing this for your brothers.”

  Sighing, Kat acknowledged the truth of Sophie’s words. She would walk through hot coals for Sam, Thomas, and Eddie, so she supposed that Sophie’s wardrobe demands were not too onerous. Kat would grit her teeth and do all that was necessary to persuade Newkirk she could act the lady.

  “Look at this dress,” Sophie said. “If you took off all but the bottom flounce, it would not be so bad. I do like those sleeves.”

  “But the bonnet has no feathers.”

  “We can put feathers on the bonnet.” Sophie glared at her with feigned annoyance. “I do not think you are taking this as seriously as you should. We must have your wardrobe all planned within the next two days if I am to get the order into the modiste in time to have it ready.”

  “Just tell her no flounces, dark colors, and plain lines.” Kat ticked the list off on her fingers. “That should be simple enough.”

  “Nonsense. Now sit down again and help me choose these dress patterns!”

  With a weary sigh, Kat turned back to the matter at hand. She pointed to an illustration of a plain gray dress. “I like that one.”

  “That’s a mourning gown! You’re not in mourning.”

  “Can’t we pretend?”

  Ignoring Kat’s remark, Sophie handed her another print.

  “The style is elegant,” Sophie said. “In a different color—a pale blue, perhaps?”

  “Dark blue,” Kat replied.

  “Pa/e,” Sophie said, making notes on the paper at her side. “You are a young lady in her first Season.”

  The maid entered with the tea tray and the mail, and Kat was overjoyed at the interruption. Sophie was intent on planning every minute detail of her wardrobe; Kat appreciated her efforts, but they were merely clothes after all—clothes that she probably would not wear often after this trip to London.

  She had her own wardrobe plans. It would be nice to have a new riding coat, and a pair of breeches specially tailored for her, instead of wearing Nick’s hand-me-downs. She suspected Sophie’s “modiste” would never agree to make her such a thing, but Kat vowed to find a good tailor in London.

  It was too bad Nick had been such a traitor, and she wanted nothing more to do with him, because he would be the perfect accomplice in such a task. Kat would just have to gain the information the best she could, and give both Sophie and Newkirk the slip.

  If she had to go to London and dress like a fashion plate, Kat intended to acquire some useful clothing as well.

  Val sprawled in the faded padding of the upholstered chair in his private parlor at the Goose and Grouse. His less-than-elegant surroundings could not dampen his sense of satisfaction.

  All his male wards were now taken care of. Even the youngest, that rascal Eddie, had gone off to school with little fuss. Val had feared there’d be some sort of teary reluctance at the last minute, but Eddie had remained annoyingly cheerful and talked incessantly the entire journey. More than once Val had desired to stuff him in the luggage boot to gain some peace and quiet.

  When they’d finally reached St. Giles, Val warned him to stay out of trouble and apply himself to his studies, although he didn’t know if the child had taken those words deeply to heart. It did not matter. Unless he tied up the headmaster or set the school on fire, he’d be there for a long, long time.

  Now, only the girl was left. As soon as he reached London, Val would start making inquiries about suitable candidates for her hand. As much as he wanted to get the girl wed, Val did have his standards. He did not intend to marry her off to just anyone. As her guardian, he must ensure that she was suitably provided for. While her portion was ample, it was not large enough to attract fortune hunters, so that was one worry eliminated.

  No, what he needed was someone without too much town polish—someone who would not look down his nose at the country airs of Miss Foster. A man who spent most of the year in the country, engaged in sporting pursuits, would suit her perfectly.

  And since she seemed so attached to her brothers, what better situation than a widower with young children? A man like that would not be so exacting—would be willing to look beyond her lack of refinement. And once she had her own brood to worry about, she would not be nagging Val constantly about her brothers.

  Then, as soon as he engaged a reliable administrator to handle the business end of things, he would hardly need to devote any time at all to the welfare of his wards.

  Which, of course, was what he wanted. He’d never asked to be named their guardian, after all; only his father’s ineptness had led to that. Val thought he’d done an admirable job of dealing with his unexpected duties. Once the girl was married off . . .

  In the far recesses of his mind, there lingered the nagging doubt that somehow, he’d made some miscalculation, and despite all his careful planning, something would go awry. But what? The boys were eagerly embarking on their new adventures, and Nick was so eager for a commission, he’d scrub the scullery if Val asked him to.

  No, the only possible difficulty could come from the girl. And he trusted Sophie to take care of that matter. After all, had not Sophie once been the toast of London? Or at least, so she claimed. She knew all the minute details, the nuances of proper behavior, fashion, and style that must be observed to make the girl’s trip to London a success.

  Still, it might not be a bad idea to stop at the abbey on his way to town and see how Sophie was getting on. If the Foster chit was a hopeless case, better to know now before he advertised her availability.

  He’d start for home in the morning, remain there long enough to reassure himself that Sophie had matters well in hand. If all looked well, he could proceed to London and prepare for the ladies’ arrival.

  Chapter Six

  Kat led Sophie’s mare around the stable yard while waiting for her to come out of the house. The horse was a dull, placid creature that Kat would not have given a second glance to in ordinary circumstances. But since it was the only riding horse here, Kat had taken her out several times, hoping to discover the animal had some redeeming qualities.

  To her dismay, the creature was hopeless. She was perfectly suited for Sophie, but Kat found it frustrating to ride a horse that considered breaking into a trot a cruel imposition. How she wished to have her own horse here. Kat had asked Sophie to write to Newkirk and ask, but so far she had heard nothing from him.

  She smothered a laugh as she glimpsed Sophie slinking guiltily across the yard, peering over her shoulder as if fearing someone was watching. She was outfitted in Kat’s extra pair of breeches, ready for a lesson in riding astride.

  “I feel absolutely naked in these breeches,” Sophie said with a rueful grin.

  “You’ll find you like them,” Kat said. “They make much more sense for riding. Are you ready to start?”

  Sophie nodded and Kat led the horse to the mounting block. She held Sophie’s hand to steady her and explained how to step in the stirrup and then swing her leg over.

  Sophie had to fumble to get her foot in the far stirrup, but otherwise mounted in good order.

  “This feels so . . . odd,” she said. The mare turned her head to look at her rider, as if she, too, thought it unusual to have her mistress riding astride.

  “That’s all there is to it,” Kat said. “Walk her around the yard.”

  “Hold on to the bridle!” Sophie said. “What if she bolts?”

  Kat snorted at that idea. The mare did not know the meaning of the word. But to ease Sophie’s qualms, she put a hand on the bridle and walked alongside while the mare plodded around the yard.

  “This reminds me of when I got my first pony,” Sophie said with a laugh. “Val led me round and round the yard in circles until we were both dizzy.”

  “It’s hard to imagine him being so agreeable,” Kat said.r />
  “You must not think him a complete ogre,” Sophie said. “He was a wonderful older brother. He was always helping me with my lessons, or taking me riding.”

  For an instant, Kat wondered if she had judged Newkirk too harshly. Sophie was obviously fond of him. But no. He might have treated his sister kindly, but he had not extended the same courtesy to Kat and her family.

  “Am I doing all right?” Sophie asked, her cheeks flushed and an eager look on her face.

  “Quite well,” Kat replied, turning her attention back to her task. “I’m going to let go now; you are managing fine.”

  Sophie gave a little shiver of nervousness, then grasped the reins more firmly and turned the mare toward the house. Kat watched her with a critical eye. Sophie sat rigidly at attention and looked as if she expected the mare to break into a wild gallop at any moment, but Kat knew she was safe. Nothing could induce that slug to move quickly.

  Sophie took a few more wide circles around the yard and then reined in next to Kat.

  “This is fun!” she said, her eyes gleaming with pride.

  “I’ll have to write and tell your brother.” Kat grinned at Sophie’s initial look of horror.

  Sophie then broke into laughter. “You would not dare! He would skin me and roast me on a spit if he knew I was doing this.”

  “No, I’ll be the one spitted and roasted for encouraging you,” Kat said.

  “I don’t see how he can complain. I am showing you how to get along in London, and you are showing me how to get along in the country. It is a fair exchange!”

  Kat shook her head. “I doubt he’d see it that way. Are you ready to get down?”

  “I am going to ride around the house first,” Sophie announced with surprising determination. “Wish me luck!”