The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  Kat watched with amusement as the mare’s fat rear end slowly disappeared around the corner of the house. She’d like to see Sophie on a real horse someday. Once she gained confidence, she could handle a more spirited mount.

  She sat down on the mounting block to await their return.

  A few minutes later she heard the sound of trotting hooves, and she jumped up. Sophie and the mare came hurriedly around the side of the house. Kat had never seen the horse move so fast.

  “It’s Val!” Sophie cried. “He’s coming up the drive! I’ve got to get out of these clothes!”

  Newkirk! Kat groaned aloud. What in the devil was he doing here? Had he come up with a new plan to make her life even more miserable?

  “What would he do to you if he saw you dressed like this?” Kat asked as she quickly helped Sophie down.

  “I do not know, and I do not care to find out,” Sophie cried. “Put the mare away, and I’ll try to delay him so you can change, too.”

  “Pooh,” Kat said. “There’s nothing he can do to me now that he hasn’t already done.”

  “Hurry anyway,” Sophie said. “He will want to see you, I am certain.” She ran for the back door.

  Kat patted the mare on the nose. “Didn’t know you had it in you to go at such a pace.” She took the bridle and swung up into the saddle. She had to keep Newkirk from the house long enough for Sophie to change her clothes. Unfortunately, it meant he was going to see Kat in breeches; not the best way to start out her campaign to convince him she really was an unexceptionable young lady who deserved to be in charge of her brothers.

  Kat tapped the horse with her heels to see if she, too, could induce some speed, but Sophie’s frantic dash must have taken everything out of the mare, for she moved forward at a painfully slow walk.

  “Slug,” Kat muttered, and headed toward the front of the house to await Newkirk’s arrival.

  She heard the clatter of carriage wheels on gravel seconds before the coach came into view. It halted in front of the house, and Newkirk climbed out—wincing as he stepped down, to Kat’s delight. His wound was obviously still paining him. He looked about, saw her, and she waved gaily. His face clouded as he walked closer.

  “Up to your usual tricks, I see,” he said. “You do realize you cannot ride like that in London.”

  “Don’t worry, I’d be embarrassed to be seen riding this nag in public,” she retorted, all conciliatory thoughts fleeing her brain at the sight of his sour expression.

  “I was referring to your breeches,” he said.

  “Are your own horses as bad as this one?” Kat asked, ignoring his comment. “I might not wish to ride at all while I am in town.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” he said, and turning abruptly, started walking toward the house.

  Kat could not resist one last jab.

  “Still limping a bit, I see,” she called after him.

  Newkirk halted then whirled around, and Kat thought he was going to let fly with a blistering retort. But he clamped his mouth shut, turned back toward the house, and walked off without another word.

  She knew she had won that round.

  Kat turned the mare back toward the stable yard, put her back in the stall, then sauntered toward the house.

  Of course, she had just ruined her chance to make a good impression on Newkirk. But there was something about the way he looked at her—the open disapproval in his eyes— that set her back up and kept her from speaking civilly to him.

  She would have to gain firmer control over her tongue if she ever hoped to gain her brothers back. From this moment forward, Kat vowed to speak to the baron only in the politest of terms.

  She found them both in Sophie’s parlor, with the tea tray on the table beside the sofa, piled high with delicious cakes and sweets.

  “Oh, good, Kat, you are here to join us.” Sophie patted the cushions beside her. “Do have a cup of tea.”

  “Perhaps Miss Foster would like to change out of her riding clothes, first,” Newkirk said.

  “Oh, I am perfectly comfortable as I am.” Kat sat down and took the teacup that Sophie quickly handed her. They shared a conspiratorial smile.

  Newkirk shot Sophie a doubtful glance before turning back to Kat. “Miss Foster, I thought you were preparing yourself to come to the city.”

  “I have been riding,” Kat said, knowing her garb was the reason for his displeasure. “What else do you expect me to wear?”

  “The proper riding attire for a lady.”

  “I have no intention of riding sidesaddle, so there is no need to be encumbered by yards of skirts,” Kat said. “I will walk rather than do that.”

  Newkirk shot Sophie a dark look. “I thought you said you were making progress with her.”

  “There is nothing wrong with Kat riding as she pleases on the estate,” Sophie said, calmly sipping her tea. “She knows how to go on in London.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Newkirk said.

  “Goodness, you are in a testy mood,” Sophie said. “You must be fagged from your journey.”

  “I think his bottom is paining him,” Kat muttered under her breath.

  Newkirk glared at her. “I insist that you do not refer to that unfortunate incident again, Miss Foster.”

  She shrugged, mentally berating herself for slipping up again. “Just making an observation, my lord.”

  Newkirk set down his teacup and rose. “I have some estate matters to deal with. We can resume our conversation at dinner. Endeavor to show me, Sophie, that you have achieved some measure of success.”

  The moment he was out of the room, they both burst into giggles.

  “What have you done to the poor man?” Sophie asked. “I have never seen him act such a crab.”

  “I do bring out the worst in him,” Kat admitted. She set down her cup and stood. “I will go change so I don’t give him any more excuses to chastise you.”

  “If he is going to be this unreasonable, I may start wearing breeches around the house.” Sophie shook her head. “I hope he is not like this for the entire length of his stay.” “Did he say how long he was going to be here?” Kat

  asked. Perhaps he was only pausing overnight and would not be here long. Surely she could keep herself in check for such a short time.

  “He did not say,” Sophie said. “I imagine he will remain until he feels confident you are prepared to go to London.”

  Kat rolled her eyes. “In other words, if I behave myself, he will soon leave.”

  Sophie nodded.

  “It will take a great deal of fun out of things,” Kat said. “No riding for you, no shooting, no—”

  “As long as you do not antagonize him too much, I suspect he will grow bored within a day or two and leave.”

  “I will forbear from reminding him of his wound,” Kat said with mock glumness.

  “He is sensitive about the matter,” Sophie said.

  “Only when he sits down,” Kat replied with a wicked grin.

  Sophie smothered a laugh with her hand.

  Kat helped herself to a few more cakes, then said farewell to Sophie and walked toward her room.

  Her resolution to be polite to Newkirk had lasted all of a few minutes. She could not allow that man to constantly provoke her or she would never get her brothers back.

  Kat shuddered with frustration. At home, she was easily able to ignore her brothers’ baiting remarks. She merely had to learn how to ignore Newkirk as well. She would never get anywhere with him if they continued to trade barbs.

  If Kat only had herself to think of, she would do everything in her power to irritate the baron. But that would not help her brothers. And for Sophie’s sake, she intended to be on her best behavior, no matter how much she wanted to respond to his prickly remarks. Kat would bite her tongue bloody if she must—her family’s fate was at stake. She had to convince Newkirk she was perfectly capable of taking care of them.

  Although, as she thought about it, Kat realized it
would be rather amusing to disconcert Newkirk. He obviously expected the worst from her; she would give him her best and let him see just how wrong he was. The sooner he approved of her behavior, the sooner he might be willing to reconsider his plan.

  Her concern for her brothers grew daily. Despite the fact that she’d written them every day, she had still not heard a word from any of them. Were they not permitted to write, for fear they could not reveal their miserable existences? Or worse, had Newkirk forbidden them to even receive her letters? Did they think she had abandoned them?

  If she did not receive a letter by the end of the week, she would prevail upon Sophie to find someone to look into matters—even take her to their respective schools so she could be assured the three were all right. Who knew what sort of harsh military discipline Sam and Thomas were being subjected to, and to think of poor Eddie away from home for the first time in his life, amid total strangers . . .

  For the hundredth time she cursed Newkirk and his meddling, interfering ways that had brought such disruption to her family. She would find great delight in taking her brothers back from his unfeeling clutches. If she could not persuade Newkirk to relent, she would just find herself a husband to help her. Either way, she would win.

  Later that evening, Val waited impatiently in the drawing room for the ladies to join him before dinner. While he had his doubts, he was willing to give Miss Foster a chance to prove herself. He’d brought two trunks filled with her clothes, which she’d left behind in her mad flight, so he knew she had something to wear other than those damn breeches.

  If she chose to dress properly. He remembered too well what had happened last time he’d asked her to dress for dinner. He rubbed his backside, still sore from the lengthy carriage ride. There’d be no more dueling; he knew better than to challenge her directly. If she rebelled again, he’d do something more practical, such as lock her in her room on a diet of bread and water until she cooperated—or starved herself to death.

  Val hoped he would not need to take such stern measures. He wanted to make this easy for the both of them, and the sooner she accepted his plans for her future, the better it would be for everyone.

  He stood by the far window, staring out over the lawn, thinking that he should try to spend more time here, when he heard the drawing room door open.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  Miss Foster. Apprehension tensing his muscles, he turned to greet her.

  Had Val not seen her at Kingsford Manor with his own eyes, he would find it hard to believe that anyone could ever have mistaken her for a boy. He did not see a trace of the breeched urchin who’d faced down his pistol in the young woman who stood before him.

  She wore a dress of some soft blue material, plain in fine with only a modest trimming of ribbon at the sleeve and neck. But the simple, elegant lines set off a surprisingly feminine figure, and the color brought out the hue of her eyes and the roses in her cheeks. Her cropped hair was twined with ribbon, a gold locket encircled her neck, and a cashmere shawl draped her shoulders.

  Val realized that if he could only control her exuberant spirits, he would have no trouble finding a husband for her. She was not an exquisite beauty, but far prettier than he could have imagined from their first meeting.

  She gave him a challenging look. “Well? Do you approve? Have I passed muster?”

  Val realized he had been staring.

  “You look very presentable, Miss Foster.” Val glanced at the clock. “And prompt. I do not think Sophie has ever been on time for anything in her life.”

  “Promptness is certainly an admirable virtue,” she agreed.

  “One I’m certain you inculcated in all your brothers,” Val said.

  A shadow crossed her face at the mention of her brothers. “Are they—were they . . . ?”

  “As pestilential as ever?” He laughed. “Of course. Selkirk—my man—nearly lost the twins on the way to Portsmouth when they ran off to investigate a tinker’s cart while stopped at an inn. And Edward did not stop talking during the entire journey to St. Giles.”

  Her expression turned wistful. “I do miss them.”

  “I assure you, Miss Foster, once you and Sophie are in London, you will not even have the time to think about them.”

  “Did you tell them that they could not write to me?” she asked bluntly.

  He looked at her with surprise. “Good Lord, no. Why would I do a thing like that?”

  “For spite,” she said.

  “If they have not written to you, I daresay it is because they are far too busy settling into their new surroundings.” Sophie came in at that moment.

  “Kat is a dutiful sister and writes to them every day,” she said, then stood back, giving Kat’s gown a thorough scrutiny. “I do believe you are right, Kat. Simple lines do look well on you.”

  Kat grinned. “No flounces?”

  “Well . . . maybe a very few. Only on the hem.” Sophie turned to Val. “Doesn’t she look lovely?”

  “Very pretty,” Val agreed, amused by the rosy hue of embarrassment that crept over Miss Foster’s cheeks.

  “Wait until we have her new dress,” Sophie said. “She will be a vision of loveliness.”

  Val cleared his throat. “Since you are late, as usual, Sophie, dinner is waiting. Perhaps you and Miss Foster can continue your wardrobe discussion after dinner.”

  Sophie laughed. “Val, you should know better than to tell two women not to discuss clothing. Now it will be the only thing on our minds all through the meal.”

  He rolled his eyes in mock despair. “Heaven help me.” Sophie took his arm and motioned for Kat to take his other. She hesitated, then gingerly lay her fingers on his arm.

  “Val will have to grow accustomed to squiring two ladies about town,” Sophie said.

  “If you think I am going to accompany you everywhere in London, you are sadly mistaken,” Val told her. “You are a perfectly suitable chaperon for Miss Foster.”

  Sophie sighed. “Ah, Val, you know so little about how these things are managed. Of course I do not expect you to accompany us on calls. But we shall demand your escort in the evening. You are not going to slip out of your responsibilities as guardian as easy as that!”

  “I agree,” Miss Foster said, directing a simpering smile at him. “I would hate people to think that my guardian was neglecting me.”

  He gave her a suspicious look as he pulled out her chair.

  He was certain that Miss Foster did not care a fig for what anyone thought of him.

  Val found it difficult to sit and concentrate on either his dinner or the conversation at the table. He would have been far more comfortable with a pillow on his chair, but he was not going to give Miss Foster the satisfaction of knowing that his wound still bothered him.

  He struggled to keep an eye on her without appearing too obvious, hoping to learn how well she could manage herself in a social setting. So far she had not slurped her soup, eaten her peas with a knife, or tucked her napkin into the bodice of her gown, which boded well for the future.

  “Val?”

  Sophie’s loud tone finally captured his attention.

  “Yes, Sophie?”

  “I asked if any of your military friends were going to be in London for the Season.”

  I “How should I know?”

  “What exactly did you do when you were in town?” she asked with exasperation. “Did you not venture out once?”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “But I was not going about asking everyone their plans. I had no idea I was even going to be in the city this spring until I found out about those blasted—the Fosters. Haven’t been back since.”

  “Do not feel that you have to make drastic changes in your life to accommodate me,” Kat said acidly. “We have no need of your presence in London.”

  Val regarded her with mock innocence. “I thought you wanted me to display a proper guardian’s concern for your welfare?”

  “Perhaps you could transfer the guardiansh
ip to Sophie,” Kat said. “Surely, since she is a widow, she has standing in society. Then you could be relieved of your onerous burden.”

  “I could only imagine how that would go,” Val replied. “No, Miss Foster, I may not have asked to be your guardian, but I intend to fulfill my duties to the best of my ability. If I must escort you and my sister around London to accomplish that, I will do so.”

  She mumbled something under her breath, but he chose not to hear it. They were already treading on dangerous ground.

  “I, for one, cannot wait to get to town,” Sophie said. ‘‘I do not know why I stayed away so long.”

  “To save me money?” Val teased.

  “Oh, I intend to make up for that in no time. Kat and I have already been making our shopping lists. We have so many things to buy.”

  “You have a closet full of gowns already,” he protested. “Val, I must have an entire new wardrobe! Everything I have is two years out of style, at least. I could not possibly appear in London in anything I currently own.”

  “The dress you are wearing looks quite suitable.”

  She laughed. “Val, you are a military man. What do you know of fashion? I assure you, I would be laughed out of every drawing room in town if I wore this old thing.”

  He threw up his hands. “I will defer to your finer knowledge, then. Just try not to bankrupt me.”

  “Am I to have use of my own money for purchases?” Kat asked.

  “Certainly,” he said. “I assume Sophie has designed an entire wardrobe for you as well?”

  “Of course,” Sophie replied. “She will be most elegant when I am finished with her. The exquisites will be clinging to the front steps awaiting her appearance each morning.” “I do not know how ‘exquisite’ he will be, but I have every confidence that we can find you a suitable husband, Miss Foster.” Newkirk gave her an encouraging smile.

  “I am certain of it,” she replied.