The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  Kat fully intended to tell that to her guardian when he confronted her.

  “What in God’s name do you think you are doing?” Val gave Wareham a steely look. “Do you have any idea what damage you might have done?”

  “Oh, don’t get so agitated,” Wareham said. “It was an innocent morning ride.”

  “You know damn well it was anything but,” Val said. “How could you let her talk you into this?”

  “Do you think she begged me so prettily I gave in and allowed her to have her way?” Wareham laughed. “I’ve far more experience with women than that, and you know it. No, I suggested this outing myself.”

  Val shook his head. “I would have at least expected you to have more sense.”

  “Not more than ten or twenty people even saw us at this hour, and certainly no one who knew her—or you. I think you are worried over nothing, Val.”

  “She is my ward, and it is my job to look after her.” “You are guarding her like a fussy old mother hen,” Wareham said. “You can’t hold her with such a tight rein for long; she’ll bolt. And then where will you be? You should be thanking me. This early morning gallop will soothe her restlessness for a spell.”

  Val did not need Wareham telling him how to manage his ward. “Oh, now you are the expert on raising daughters?” “I have as much experience with it as you do,” Wareham retorted.

  As his friend’s voice rose, Val suddenly remembered they were standing in the middle of the street. “Take the horses round to the mews and come inside,” he said.

  “Can’t,” Wareham replied cheerfully. “I have to get the horses back, or I’ll be late for an appointment. At Whitehall.”

  “Who in the devil are you seeing at Whitehall?” Val demanded.

  Wareham smiled mysteriously. “I shall tell you about it, later. I’ll return this afternoon—say about two? We may have something to discuss.” He glanced in admiration toward the door through which Kat had disappeared. “She’s a marvelous horsewoman.” “And seeking a husband, so she has no use for your attentions,” Val said coldly.

  Wareham gave him a long look. “Even if my intentions are honorable?”

  Val was so stunned by his friend’s words that he wasn’t able to muster a reply before Wareham mounted up and rode away.

  Honorable intentions? Wareham? Val could not believe it. Wareham had never once entertained serious thoughts about a female. And after all the Spanish and French beauties Val had seen him cast aside, it was ludicrous to think that he’d be enamored of Kat Foster. She was not the sort of woman Wareham enjoyed.

  No, Wareham was merely having a jest at Val’s expense, and he did not appreciate it.

  He turned back to the house. He’d talk with Wareham later. Now he must deal with Kat.

  Val half expected her to have run out the back while he was talking to Wareham, but to his relief, he peered into his study and watched her nervously pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. In her preoccupation, she did not notice him standing in the doorway.

  It had been a long time since he’d seen her clad in breeches and riding boots, and at that time, he’d merely thought of her as a bothersome brat. But now ... he realized it was a very good thing that women did not regularly wear trousers, or every man in London would be incapable of coherent thought or speech. Even a pair of rounded breasts peeking out over the top of an indecently low bodice was no match for cloth stretched over a nicely rounded bottom.

  Damn. This was not what he’d intended to feel. He planned to berate her for wearing those breeches in town. But at the moment, he was more willing to appreciate the picture she presented, with that shapely rear and long, lithe legs. He felt a shocking stab of desire.

  No doubt Wareham had enjoyed the sight as well. Which made Val even angrier. He did not want someone like Wareham ogling Kat. Or anyone else, for that matter. Val vowed to see that those breeches were burned this very day.

  He struggled to rein in his emotions. The last thing he needed was to show her his displeasure, and make her even more defiant. Val realized that if he treated this escapade causally, he’d take the wind out of her sails.

  He smiled to himself. Perhaps he was finally learning how to deal with her.

  Now, if he could only keep his mind on the business at hand instead of those legs . . .

  He pushed the door open and strode into the room.

  Kat greeted him with a defiant expression.

  “I do not care what you say or do, that was the most enjoyable time I’ve had since I came to London.” She gave him a look that dared him to chastise her.

  “I do not doubt it.” Val gestured to the chairs. “Would you care to sit?”

  She eyed him warily.

  “I am not going to beat you,” he said with a short laugh. “Although you surely deserve it.”

  “What do you intend to do?” Her gingerly manner of perching on the edge of the chair belied her nonchalant attitude.

  He shrugged. “What can I do? The damage is done. If you escaped everyone’s notice, you will be safe. If not . . . well, then the tale will be all over London and any punishment I could mete out would be inconsequential compared with that.”

  Kat stared at him, mouth agape. “You’re not going to lock me in my room?”

  “And limit you to bread and water?” Val shook his head. “Believe me, the thought crossed my mind, but I realized I would have to explain to all your beaus why you were unavailable. Better that you act normally and wait to see if you got away with this little escapade.”

  The look of relief on her face was almost comical. Val struggled to keep his own features stem.

  “I am honestly more disappointed than angry,” he continued. “I had hoped you would think before you acted impulsively.”

  “Wareham asked me to go with him,” she said. “It would have been rude of me to say no.”

  Val snorted. “I feel certain he would have withstood the disappointment.”

  “Well, what’s done is done.” Kat gave him a guileless stare.

  Val fumbled for words. How was he going to impress upon this girl that she must never do such a thing again? She might have escaped notice this time, but if she continued to ride in this manner, it was only a matter of time before someone recognized her. And then it would be too late to save her.

  “I know what you are going to say,” she said. “And it does not matter to me in the slightest if people learn what I’ve done. I have no intention of marrying a man who will not let me ride as I like, or dress as I please, or curse, or spit, or do any of the other things that young ladies are not supposed to do. How could I marry a man who would not let me be myself?”

  “You think you will find such a man?” Val asked.

  “I hope so,” she replied. “Now, if you are finished, I should like to go upstairs and bathe. I believe we are receiving this morning, and I do not want Sophie to have to entertain alone.”

  “Go,” Val said curtly. There was no point in talking to her now—she had no intention of listening. Perhaps later, he could persuade Sophie to try.

  But if that blasted chit was so determined to throw away her chances of making a decent marriage, he was rapidly losing any inclination to stop her. Let her play housekeeper to her brothers until they all grew up and left her. His time would be better spent encouraging Sophie to find a husband. That was starting to look like a much more likely prospect than ever marrying off Kat Foster.

  Yet he could not resist watching the enticing sight of her walking out of the room.

  At precisely two that afternoon, Val heard Wareham’s voice in the hall. Val rose from his chair and walked into the corridor to greet his visitor, striving to appear nonchalant. Yet Val intended to tell him in no uncertain terms that he did not want Wareham to have anything more to do with Kat.

  “I believe you wanted to speak to me?” Val asked.

  “I thought I should make certain that you had not locked your ward in the dungeon,” Wareham said. He set his hat a
nd gloves on the table in the hall and followed Val back into the study.

  “You’ll be pleased to know that I have not punished her in any manner,” Val replied. “Brandy?”

  “Of course.” Wareham eyed him curiously as he took the glass and his seat. “And allow me to impart a bit of advice, if I may. You need to handle her like a skittish filly; only a light hand on the reins and no whips. Anything more, and you’ll break her spirit.”

  Val gave a derisive snort. “You try to be her guardian and see how far your vaunted advice takes you.” Wareham silently studied the rug beneath his feet for several moments. Finally he raised his head and looked directly at Val. “I am thinking of doing just that.”

  Val laughed.

  “I am serious,” Wareham said.

  Val stared at him, as if uncertain of what he’d heard. Then he remembered Wareham’s words earlier about “honorable intentions.”

  “Marry? You want to marry her?” Wareham flashed him a rueful smile. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Did I not always swear that I’d never be caught in the parson’s mousetrap?”

  “Where did you go after you left this morning?” Val demanded. “Straight to the tavern?”

  “No, it was to Whitehall, as I said. In fact, it was my business there that put the idea firmly in my mind.”

  “Have you talked with Kat about this?” Val asked, hoping he had not. He did not want another confrontation with her about unsuitable offers.

  “Am I not supposed to petition the guardian before I speak to the lady?”

  Val nodded. “And as her guardian, I intend to withhold my permission.”

  Wareham gave him an incredulous look. “You what?”

  “Oh, give on,” Val said. “No one in their right mind would approve your suit. Your record with the ladies is dubious, to say the least.”

  “I am talking about marriage, not a dalliance.” Wareham spoke with more vehemence than Val expected.

  Was the fellow in love with the girl?

  No, he couldn’t be. Wareham merely admired her horsemanship and her sense of humor and her jaundiced view of the foibles of society. Which was clearly not enough upon which to build a marriage. Wareham would be too indulgent of Kat’s unconventional behavior.

  “Don’t you think this is rather hasty?” Val asked. “You barely know her.”

  “We get along,” Wareham said. “And I’m a damn sight better candidate than those silly young pups she cavorts with.”

  Val had to agree with him on that. But, still. .. “Frankly, I was looking for a different sort of fellow for her. A nice settled, country gentleman who—”

  “Will seek to dampen her high spirits and turn her into a pale shadow of herself.” Wareham rose and strode to the window before turning to face Val. “You want someone who will meet your rigid standards of conduct, but I assure you, Val, there is no such paragon in London. Unless you consider yourself.”

  Val stared at him, aghast. “Me? Marry her? That is even more laughable than the thought of you doing so.”

  “Is it?” Wareham raised a brow.

  Val felt a sinking feeling at Wareham’s accusation. Was his antipathy toward all these marriage proposals motivated by something more personal than a guardian’s concern? He struggled to mount an argument, more for himself than anything.

  “Marry that hellion? I would rather be back at Waterloo facing the cream of Napoleon’s cavalry than take on that task.”

  “Then let me have her,” Wareham said. “I’ll keep her spirit intact.”

  Val shook his head. He didn’t like the realization that Wareham knew her as well as he did, knew what she wanted, understood what she needed. The whole idea bothered him. He should be the one to teach her, to guide her into womanhood, not Wareham.

  “There is always Gretna . . .” Wareham’s voice trailed off.

  Val was shocked by the threat. “You would not dare.”

  “In ordinary circumstances, no. But I suspect that if your ward knew of your refusal, she’d have the horses hitched and kidnap me just to spite you.”

  Wincing, Val acknowledged the truth of his prediction.

  Kat was likely to do just that if she learned of this conversation.

  “Then you will not speak to her of this.”

  “I never said I hadn’t talked with her.” Wareham grinned. “She will be awaiting the outcome of this conversation. I wouldn’t be surprised if she is at the door now, with her ear pressed against the keyhole.”

  Val couldn’t help glancing at the door before he turned his attention back to Wareham.

  Three proposals in two days. He’d despaired of finding her a husband, now suddenly they were banging at his door.

  His suspicions deepened. He knew Kat had been behind Mortimer’s proposal yesterday. Had she worked her persuasive wiles on Wareham as well?

  “What was the offer she made you?” Val demanded. Wareham looked amused, and Val knew he had been right. Damn that girl!

  “I suppose she told you that I beat her daily and want to marry her off to some doddering old fool,” Val said. “How gallant of you to come to her rescue.”

  “Actually, it was nothing of the sort,” Wareham said. “She offered me the safety of the married state, with the freedom to do as I pleased. A ‘marriage of convenience.’ ”

  “Yours or hers?”

  “Both, I hope,” Wareham said.

  “Why would she even suggest such a thing?” Val asked. “She wants control of her brothers.”

  “As if I would cede custody to you.”

  “You need not worry I shall corrupt them. As the lady explains it, I am free to live my own life without interference from her—in return for her ability to do the same.” Val grimaced. Kat was too innocent, too naive to know the dreadful fate that doomed her to. A type of spinsterhood at best; a bitter hatred for the man she’d tied herself to at worst. Did the girl have no sense at all?

  Val realized he was angry—angry at Wareham for putting him in such a position. Angry that he’d been forced into the role of having to find a husband for Kat in the first place. And angry that she was not a more biddable girl who would accept whatever man he chose for her, instead of embroiling him in these ridiculous attempts at settling her own future.

  Perhaps he should let Wareham have her and be free of the whole sorry mess. But the very thought made him cringe. Val did not want Kat with Wareham. An older, more sophisticated woman would suit Wareham fine, but not an innocent like Kat. She might be a hellion in some ways, but she was not possessed of a great deal of worldly experience when it came to men. Val feared that Wareham would eventually tire of her and, in the process, break her heart.

  Wareham was right about one thing, it was going to take a rare man to appreciate her. And to his deepening realization, Val began to realize who he wanted that man to be.

  Himself.

  He looked back at Wareham.

  “Don’t say a thing until I’ve discussed this with Kat. I hope to be able to reason with her.”

  Wareham nodded. “Fair enough. I think you will find the lady quite determined. I suggest you acquiesce to her wishes. It might save you a great deal of bother in the short run.”

  “And in the long run?”

  “That is not your worry.” Wareham smiled. “Then she will be my responsibility.” He set down his glass, gave Val a curt bow, and left.

  Val paced the room as he fought against the thoughts welling up inside him.

  He did not want this. It would be an unmitigated disaster. But the more he argued against it, the stronger became his feelings. It did not matter that Parker was a bore, Mortimer an idiot, and Wareham a rake. Totally unsuitable, all of them.

  But Val knew he would have turned all three of them down even if they were paragons of intelligence and behavior.

  Because he wanted Kat Foster for himself.

  There. He admitted it. Against all wisdom, all sense, he’d fallen in love with the girl.

  What in God’s nam
e was he going to do now? How could he persuade her that this was right for both of them when she was barely speaking to him?

  Val only knew he had to try. Because he honestly believed that the promise of a life with her was too precious a prize to give up without a fight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  His head was still spinning in confusion when a light tap sounded on the door and Kat Foster marched in.

  She presented a picture in complete opposition to the one she had displayed earlier this morning; in place of her grubby breeches and coat, she wore a well-cut gown of pale blue that emphasized her female curves in society’s acceptable way. Her hair was neatly arranged, a delicate lace shawl lay across her shoulders, and she appeared the very vision of youthful womanhood.

  How very deceiving appearances could be.

  She sat down in the chair facing him with a grace he found amusing, knowing she did it on purpose, hoping to fool him into thinking she intended to behave as a female ought.

  “I came to apologize for this morning.” Kat flashed him a demure smile. “I realize I should not have gone riding in such a manner with Wareham.”

  Val regarded her with growing suspicion. She was up to her tricks again. What did she have in mind this time?

  “I only thought—that since he was the one who suggested it . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  “There is no need for this performance, Kat. Wareham has come and gone and been soundly refused.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “Your latest plan is not going to work.” Val gave a long, deep sigh. “Although I do have to give you credit for thinking of this one. At first, I almost thought Wareham was