The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  “The boy is perfectly harmless,” Sophie said. “We came to his aid in the park, and he seems quite taken with Kat. It was he who sent the flowers yesterday, which shows he has the proper sensibilities.”

  “Except for his clothing,” Miss Foster added.

  “But we still know nothing of him—or his friends.” Val shook his head. “I am not certain you should be escorted anywhere by them.”

  “I am certain Morty is only waiting to get me alone so he can carry me off to Gretna,” Miss Foster said. “He is obviously after my vast fortune.”

  “There is no need to be sarcastic,” Val said.

  “You brought me here to find a husband,” she protested. “I have already made the acquaintance of five eligible young men, and now you are complaining.”

  “I only want to make certain that they are suitable escorts,” Val said. He realized he was starting to sound like a guardian. But he was in charge of this girl.

  “We will have ample opportunity to learn more about Morty and his friends in the days to come,” Sophie said. Val clamped his mouth closed. There was no point in belaboring the issue. And surely, once his ward was officially out in society, she would be properly introduced to numerous young men—suitable young men—and she would forget all about this fellow.

  “You are right,” he said, and stood to leave. “I congratulate you on your successful first morning at home, Miss Foster.”

  She gave him a superior smile that had a sharp tang of “I told you so” to it. Let her feel smug. He’d rather have her feel comfortable entertaining male callers than shrinking from shyness in the comer. However, he doubted Kat Foster knew the meaning of the word “shy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kat awoke the next morning abrim with anticipation. She could not wait to step into Tattersall’s hallowed grounds and see what prime horses London had to offer.

  But all her plans were dashed when the maid brought her a note from Morty. He was terribly ill after eating some poorly prepared food, he wrote, and had to beg off from their planned visit.

  “The rest of us could have gone without him,” Kat said aloud, vexed that her day was ruined before it had barely begun.

  She went in search of Sophie, Morty’s disappointing note in her hand. She found Sophie in the drawing room, arranging flowers in a vase.

  “The trip to Tatt’s has been canceled,” Kat informed her glumly.

  “What happened?” Sophie asked.

  “Morty ate something bad,” Kat replied. “Why couldn’t he have waited until tomorrow to do so?”

  “I am certain he would have done so if he was able,” Sophie said dryly, clipping the end of a bright yellow rose with her shears.

  Kat flopped onto the sofa, not caring about the unladylike picture she presented. “Now what am I going to do?”

  Newkirk walked into the drawing room, hat and gloves in hand, as if preparing to go out.

  “What adventure do you ladies have planned for today?” He gave Sophie a swift kiss of greeting on the cheek.

  “Absolutely nothing,” Kat replied with a morose expression.

  “Morty’s ill,” Sophie explained. “The visit to Tattersall’s has been canceled.”

  “Ah, no wonder Miss Foster looks so downcast.”

  “You would be too if all your plans were ruined.” Kat knew she sounded like a spoiled child denied sweets, but she could not help herself. She’d been looking forward to seeing Tatt’s ever since she agreed to come to London. “I have half a mind to go there by myself.”

  “No need for that.” Newkirk flashed her a cheerful smile. “I will escort you.”

  Kat regarded him with surprise. “Really? You’d go with me?”

  “I intended to go sometime with your brother. We can all go together. I will send a note round and see if he can join us—say in an hour or so?”

  Kat glanced at Sophie. “Do you still wish to go?”

  Sophie nodded. “I should like to see this famous place.”

  “Splendid,” Newkirk said. “I will meet you back here in an hour, then.” He gave Sophie a pointed glance. “And do not wear your best dress or your satin slippers. Treat this like a trip to the barn.”

  Kat stared after Newkirk as he departed the drawing room, hardly believing what had just transpired. He actually offered to take her to Tatt’s, when yesterday she’d had the definite feeling that he had not approved of the proposed visit.

  Newkirk continued to surprise her.

  But she was not altogether certain she wished to go, with him. He might make her stand well away from the horses, or hurry her through the ring and insist they go someplace more “educational” afterward. She guessed she’d have a better time accompanied by Morty and his friends. Yet she was not going to stay home just because Newkirk was not her favorite escort. She could always go again if this visit was not satisfactory.

  She glanced over at Sophie. “We should look for a new horse for you while we are there,” she said. “One that is a bit more lively.”

  “I like my mare,” Sophie protested, then laughed. “All right, she is a bit slow. But that suits me fine. I am never going to be a bruising rider like you.”

  “Oh, how I wish I dare go riding while I am here in London,” Kat said. “No one of any consequence gets up before noon—if I rode at the crack of dawn, who would ever see me?”

  “If Val found out . . .” Sophie’s voice trailed off.

  “He would be furious,” Kat admitted.

  “All the more reason to find you a husband soon,” Sophie said. “One who will allow you to ride as you please.”

  “I am more concerned with finding one who will take care of my brothers,” Kat replied.

  “Has anyone caught your eye?”

  Kat shrugged. “I expect a letter from Eddie any day now. Once your brother accepts how unhappy he is, Eddie can come home and I won’t have to look for a husband.”

  “You are not leaving me here alone.” Sophie glared at her in mock dismay. “You will stay in London through the Season no matter what.”

  “I am not certain your brother will appreciate Eddie staying here,” Kat replied dryly.

  “I shall see that he does,” Sophie insisted.

  Kat shook her head. She rather thought that she and Eddie would be banished to the countryside in no time— which was fine with her. All she wanted was to be home again.

  True to his promise, Newkirk reappeared at the drawing room door in an hour to announce that the landau awaited them outside. They would meet Lieutenant Foster at the hallowed doors of Tattersall’s.

  Kat was pleased to see Nick waiting for them at the Grosvenor Place entrance; she’d been afraid they’d have to wait for him. Lieutenant Boone was with him, and he immediately offered his hand to help Sophie from the carriage.

  Disdaining her guardian’s assistance, Kat jumped from the carriage and strode past him into London’s famous horse market. She looked around eagerly, ignoring the stares directed at her. The crowd was a mix of elegant gentlemen, dressed much like Newkirk in breeches, boots, and tailored coats, and a rougher set dressed in less elegant garb.

  Sophie leaned close and whispered in Kat’s ear. “We are the only ladies here.”

  Kat was not surprised. The boisterous atmosphere of the sales ring was not the sort that would appeal to many ladies. No doubt when they wished to purchase a horse, they either sent a man to do it or had the horse brought to them.

  But Kat was not like most ladies, and she delighted in being here, in the midst of London’s premiere horseselling site.

  “The pickings look a bit thin today,” Nick mused as he perused the offerings.

  “Bargains are not as easily had this time of year,” Lieutenant Boone admitted. “Wait until the end of the Season when everyone is trying to settle their debts.”

  “Still, that bay over there looks worth a second glance.” Nick walked toward the horse, and the others followed.

  Kat inspected the animal closely. �
�I don’t like the slope of his withers,” she said.

  “No one is asking you,” Nick retorted. He motioned to the groom. “Lead him around a bit.”

  Kat watched disdainfully as the man attempted to show off the horse’s advantages—which she did not find impressive.

  “You’ll regret it if you buy this one,” she told her brother.

  “And since when have I ever gone to you for advice on which horse to buy?” he demanded.

  “I fear in this case your sister is right,” Newkirk said quietly.

  Kat stared at him in amazement. Newkirk was defending her before Nick? Even more surprising, his statement proved he did know enough about horseflesh to make a good judgment.

  Nick looked at her with a skeptical expression. “What horse do you then suggest I examine, sister dear?”

  She immediately pointed to a gray standing by the first row of pillars. “That one. From here, at least, he shows promise.”

  They traipsed across the dirt ring to look at Kat’s choice.

  123

  At first, Nick examined the horse with reluctance, but he gradually grew more enthused.

  “What do you think?” he said, turning to Newkirk.

  Newkirk shrugged. “Ask your sister.”

  Nick gave her a pained look. “What do you say?”

  “I’d take him,” she replied promptly. From the comer of her eye, she saw Newkirk nod his head.

  A surprising swell of satisfaction swept over her at seeing Newkirk’s agreement with her opinion. Not because she cared what he thought, she assured herself, but because it meant he would look upon her in a more favorable light.

  “I say, remind me to take your sister along the next time I look for a horse,” Lieutenant Boone said, his eyes wide with admiration. “She’s a prime judge of cattle.”

  “Why, thank you.” Kat beamed at him. She looked at Sophie. “Now, are you certain you don’t wish to look for a mount?”

  “I will keep to Sally, slow as she is,” Sophie replied.

  “Perhaps the ladies would like to wait outside in the carriage while Lieutenant Foster transacts his business,” Lieutenant Boone said.

  Kat turned toward Newkirk in disappointment. “Do we have to leave already?”

  “You can remain as long as you wish,” he said. “But I do believe Sophie would be more comfortable outside. Lieutenant Boone, if you would be so kind?”

  Boone nodded and led Sophie toward the doors.

  “She is not as fond of the stableyard as you are, Miss Foster,” Newkirk explained.

  To Kat, who had not smelled the tangy aroma of horses since her visit to the mews, the enclosure exuded a pleasurable scent. But she admitted it might be a bit overwhelming for poor Sophie, who rarely set foot in a stable.

  Kat stopped to examine a sprightly black who would make a perfect mount for Sophie. She had half a mind to persuade Newkirk to purchase the animal. Kat turned about, looking for her guardian, but he had walked farther along and was looking at a long-legged chestnut.

  Even while he admired the horse before him, Val did not allow Miss Foster to stray from his sight. There was nothing wrong in a lady visiting Tatt’s, but it was not the

  sort of place for one to wander unaccompanied, either. He’d give her the illusion of freedom while keeping her under close eye.

  Someone grabbed his arm.

  “Newkirk! You devil. I did not realize you were in London.”

  Val turned and recoiled in astonishment as he recognized the man standing before him. Richard Wareham, late of His Majesty’s Cavalry and one of Val’s comrades during the years of war.

  “Wareham! What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were still in France.”

  “Came home last month,” Wareham said. “Nothing like an English spring to refresh one. But what are you doing here? Buying more horses?”

  “I could ask the same of you,” Val replied. “I am here with my sister and wards.”

  “Your wards?” Wareham regarded him with incredulity. “You don’t have any wards.”

  “Believe me, it was quite a surprise to find out myself. There are five of them; four boys and a girl.”

  Wareham burst into laughter. “That is ripe. You, playing father to a pack of children.”

  Val shook his head in mock dismay. “The eldest just took up a commission in the Blues, the twins are in the navy school at Portsmouth, and the youngest at St. Giles.”

  “You must be getting a mount for the lucky fellow in the Blues.” Wareham peered over Val’s shoulder. “What have you settled on?”

  To his sudden dismay, Val saw Miss Foster marching toward them with determined steps. He felt a sudden reluctance to introduce Wareham to her. The man was an excellent soldier, but his reputation with women was tainted at best. Not the sort of man whose attentions a father—or guardian—would encourage.

  “Newkirk,” she said as she came within hailing distance. “You have to look at this horse. It would be just perfect for Sophie.”

  Wareham arched a questioning brow.

  “My female ward,” Val explained. “And an extraordinary horsewoman.”

  “You must introduce me,” Wareham replied.

  “If you promise to behave yourself,” Val blurted before he could stop himself.

  “Trying to find her a husband, are you?” Wareham gave him an amused look.

  “You don’t have to worry,” Val said, forcing a grin. “You are the last person I would permit her to wed.”

  Wareham laughed. “I am glad you are looking out for my interests.”

  Miss Foster reached him and looked expectantly at the man at his side.

  “Miss Foster,” Val began, “I should like you to meet one of my army comrades, Richard Wareham.”

  Wareham bowed and took the girl’s hand, casting a reproachful glance at Val. “You did not tell me she was such a charming lass.”

  “And may I add he is a desperate rogue, so do not believe a word he says to you,” Val said.

  “I am shocked to hear that you would have a friend who is a rogue,” Miss Foster said, a mischievous look in her eye. She turned to Wareham. “Either my guardian is exaggerating, or he has pulled the wool over my eyes.”

  “Oh, Val is as straight-laced as they come,” Wareham said. “But we managed to rub along together even so.”

  “If you were in the army together, you must have some stories about my guardian,” she said. “Perhaps you will pay a visit to the house and regale us with some of them. I am certain his sister would love to hear them, too.”

  Wareham glanced at Val, who emphatically shook his head.

  “I would be delighted to tell you everything you wish to know, Miss Foster,” Wareham said, completely ignoring Val’s warning. “Do you five here in London?”

  “No, I’ve only been in town for two weeks,” she replied.

  “And how do you find the city?” Wareham asked.

  “I have seen little of it—except the inside of shops,” Miss Foster replied.

  “We shall have to take steps to remedy that.” Wareham smiled. “I would be more than willing to escort you about town.”

  “Why, thank you,” Miss Foster said. “I will look forward to it.”

  Val gave him a pointed glance, and Wareham grinned.

  “I shall present myself at your house shortly, and we can make plans.” He took her hand again. “A pleasure to meet you, my dear.” He bowed and turned away, quickly crossing the room.

  Miss Foster leaned toward Val. “Is he really such a rogue? He seemed very nice.”

  Val nodded. “He left a string of broken hearts across the Peninsula and throughout France.”

  “A genuine rake!” Her expression brightened. “I’ve never met one before.”

  “And you would be well advised to stay away from him.”

  She looked thoughtful at that information. “So I am to assume Wareham is not the sort of man I should try to attach?”

  “Not at all,” Val said. “
He is a highly inappropriate candidate.”

  Val thought he saw a flash of amusement in her eyes before she lowered her gaze.

  This was the last thing he needed. First those idiotic young men, now a rakehell like Wareham. He’d planned to introduce her to eligible gentlemen, yet she seemed to attract attention from all the wrong sorts. He’d have to drop a word to Wareham to leave her firmly alone. Val did not need her becoming the subject of gossip.

  He took her elbow and steered her in the other direction. “Where is this horse you wish me to examine?”

  He agreed that the mount would be suitable for a lady such as Sophie, but also reminded her that his sister had firmly insisted she did not wish to have a new mount. Kat opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again.

  “Do you always save your brother from mistakes with his horses, Miss Foster?” Newkirk asked as he took her elbow and steered her toward the entrance.

  “Oh no,” she said cheerfully. “He never listens to me. He would have bought that first horse today if you hadn’t agreed with me.”

  “The folly of youth,” Newkirk muttered. “I know whom I shall consult when I wish to purchase a new mount.”

  To her surprise, Kat felt herself beaming under Newkirk’s praise. “Would you please call me ‘Kat’?” she asked. “After all, you are my guardian. Almost like one of the family.”

  127

  “ ‘Kat’ it is then,” Newkirk said. “If you promise not to address me as ‘my lord.’ ”

  “That will be easy,” Kat said with a hint of a grin.

  He returned her grin. “Yes, I imagine you would prefer to call me ‘ogre’ or ‘monster.’ ”

  She colored. “Only when I am particularly vexed with you,” she said.

  “Then I shall endeavor not to vex you unnecessarily,” he replied.