The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

“Like fine horseflesh or impeccably tailored clothes?” Katherine struggled to keep herself from trembling, the anger in her voice rising with every breath. “How does it make you feel, my Lord Knowlton, to know that you cannot have a woman without paying for her first? Do you ever calculate the cost of each touch? How much do you spend for a kiss?”

  She reached out and grabbed his hand, drawing it to her breast. “Is that worth a shilling? Or a new pair of stockings?”

  Knowlton jerked his hand back and stared at her in surprise, his gray eyes widening in bemusement at her vehement reaction. “Stop it, Kate.”

  “I would be very wary of anyone I had bought,” she continued in the same biting tone. “Does the price include my emotions, my lord? Or my loyalty? You would never know when a more lucrative offer might tempt me away. Or whether my pleasure was real or feigned—or do you not care about that?”

  “I had only thought to ease your circumstances, not insult you,” he said with a touch of irritation. “You are quite free to refuse.”

  “And refuse you I shall,” she cried, feeling the tears beginning to well in her eyes. She struggled against them. “I would rather starve and send Robbie to school as a scholar than whore myself to you. At least I would have

  my pride intact.” She took a few steps toward the house, then turned to him again.

  “I pity you more than anything,” she said, her voice cloaked in sadness. “For you are never going to know anything beyond the mere exchange of money for sex. There is so much more to life.” She turned again and sped toward the house before her tears fell.

  Knowlton stared after her, anger and confusion dancing through his brain. He had sadly misjudged her after all. Kate was as hopelessly respectable as he had first thought her. Foolish woman. She would rue her refusal one day, when the shadows of the poor house loomed darkly over her. Pride was a poor substitute for food and shelter. With a disgusted scowl, he kicked up a spray of gravel, listening to the clattering stones crack against the others on the ground. There was an abundance of other women who would jump at the chance for such an opportunity.

  Katherine fled to the sanctuary of the library, knowing she could be alone there. Sinking down into one of the comfortable leather chairs, she gave full vent to her tears of anger and sadness.

  Mistress. An elevated title for a woman who sold her favors as easily as a common street whore. Fine clothes, fancy houses, and flashy jewels could not hide the basic transaction. Money for sex. A simple trade. But one she could not accept.

  Had she cared for him less, his offer would have provided less insult. She still would have been shocked and angry, to think that he thought he could buy her in such a way. And to dangle the dream of school for Robbie had been cruelly taunting. Yet it was the simple fact that he wanted their relationship to be on the level of a tradesman’s exchange that caused the deep hurt inside her. She was, after all was said and done, nothing more than a temporary plaything for him.

  It had been pure folly to delude herself with the hope that he would come to care for her. She had allowed her love to blind her to his true nature. How arrogant an assumption on her part, that she would be the one woman to engender tender feelings in him. He had always claimed he had no heart, and for once, she saw it was true. At this

  moment, she wished she did not either. For then it would not hurt so very badly.

  A noise in the hall alerted her to the doctor’s arrival. Katherine glanced quickly into the mirror to make certain her face no longer showed the ravages of her earlier tears. Satisfied that no one could see how deeply she bled inside, she exited the library and hastened to her son’s room.

  Katherine watched eagerly while the doctor removed Robbie’s splint, examined the leg, and pronounced himself satisfied with its healing. He cautioned against overactivity, warned the lad to make use of a crutch or cane while he strengthened the weak muscles, and said Robbie would be fit as ever within a month.

  Even though she had expected the news, Katherine uttered a deep sigh of relief when the doctor said Robbie could go home. She knew she could not have remained for another night under Knowlton’s roof. She only wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

  Katherine was also grateful that the Wentworths would be departing for their home today as well. She knew she would not be able to hide her damaged heart from Elizabeth, who was uncannily perceptive about such matters. Making her good-byes to the Wentworths, Katherine promised to consider accepting Elizabeth’s invitation to their home for Christmas. She knew she would miss the countess; in their short acquaintance Katherine had found the closest thing she had ever known to a friend her own age.

  Knowlton did not make an appearance as the preparations for Katherine and Robbie’s return to the cottage were put into motion. There was little enough to do, she thought, but acquiesced for the last time to the assistance of the Warrenton servants. There would be plenty of time for her to take care of herself in the future.

  It was only when they gathered in the entry hall, waiting for the coach to be brought round, that Knowlton made his appearance.

  He tousled Robbie’s red mop. “Eager to be off, eh?”

  Robbie nodded.

  “Now, you promise to take good care of your mama.” Knowlton shot a quick glance at Kate, standing tight-lipped against the wall. “Do not make too much extra work for her, do you hear me?” “Yes sir,” Robbie replied.

  “I will keep a good eye on Atlas for you,” Knowlton said, wondering if Robbie would ever be allowed to set foot at Warrenton again. “When the doctor says you are ready, we will go riding.”

  “You will come and play chess at the cottage?” Robbie’s plaintive query seared Knowlton. How much had changed since the lad had first asked the question this morning.

  “I will be gone for a space. There are some business matters I need to take care of in London.” He patted Robbie companionably on the back. “But as soon as I return, we will meet again across the board.”

  A footman carried Robbie to the now-waiting carriage. Knowlton turned to Kate. Her closed expression gave no indication of her feelings. Was she still angry?

  “I am sorry to see both of you go, Mrs. Mayfield.” Katherine met his gaze without flinching, even though it took every ounce of strength she had not to let him see how disturbed she was. “It was most generous of you to extend your hospitality for so long, my lord.”

  “It was no imposition,” he said. “I enjoyed it very much.”

  Keeping her expression calm, Katherine pasted a polite smile upon her face. “I am certain you are a gracious host to all your guests.” She turned and took her bonnet from the hovering footman. “I bid you a safe journey to London, my lord.” Tying the ribbons firmly under her chin, she walked down the steps, her back rigid.

  With long strides, Knowlton caught up to her just as she approached the coach. Smiling blandly, he took her hand to help her into the vehicle.

  “If I can offer you or your son any assistance in the future, do not hesitate to let me know,” he said. Lowering his voice, he added, “I still have a care for your welfare. And I ask nothing in return.”

  Katherine bit her lip to keep it from trembling. Nodding briefly, she took her seat, refusing to look out the window after the door closed. She needed no last look to imprint Knowlton’s features on her mind. They were etched in her heart forever.

  Knowlton stood on the steps watching the carriage until it vanished from sight. There was nothing he could say or do to put matters right again, he knew. He let out a long, resigned sigh. He had held such high hopes for Kate; it was unfortunate she had turned out to be such a disappointment. It had all been an interesting diversion, but nothing more.

  He rued the day he had laid eyes on that redheaded witch. His initial reservations about dallying after a lady of her ilk rushed back over him like a reproach. That was what came of dealing outside the circle of experienced ladies. He would have to remember that lesson for the future. With a careless shrug, he turned an
d mounted the stairs.

  Robbie showed more enthusiasm at returning to the cottage than Katherine had thought he would. Even a ten-year- old appreciated the familiarity of home. The Warrenton cook sent along a cold collation so Katherine would not be faced with too many tasks on her first day home. Katherine noted in shocked puzzlement that the cottage gleamed. There was even, she noted with surprise, a new mattress on Robbie’s bed. Knowlton had taken care of matters, of course. She was forced to admit a grudging gratitude for his thoughtfulness.

  Robbie, worn out from excitement and the work of exercising his newly healed leg, fell asleep early. Katherine sat alongside his bed until he drifted into slumber, then made her way to the parlor.

  She looked around her, really opening her eyes to what she saw. A tiny room, filled with cast-off furniture. It was the typical residence of a lady who had not the means to support a proper establishment. “Genteel poverty”—was that not the expression? Now it seemed more intolerable than ever.

  Katherine had tried to count herself lucky to have a roof over her head, thinking that as long as she had Robbie with her, it was all that mattered. Material things were not important. Love and family were.

  Yet she barely had either. Only Robbie. And as much as she loved her son, he would one day leave her side to make his own way in the world. And she would be so dreadfully alone.

  Would it hurt so badly then, after all the years had

  passed? Would she look back upon this as just a foolish interlude in her life, the last gasp of her impulsive girlhood? She sincerely prayed it would be so.

  But whatever the future held in store, she knew it did not include the Rose Cottage. She could tarry no longer in this neighborhood. Where, then, to go? To another cottage, in another county? To another life on the edge of poverty, scrimping and saving every penny in order to clothe Robbie? Begging and pleading to find a school somewhere that would take him without fees? Discouragement bowed her shoulders.

  Katherine had caught a glimpse of what another life could be like during her stay at Warrenton. It was not the opulence of the furnishings or the expensive clothes that meant so much to her. It was the element of comfort, the security of knowing that there would be a roof over her head in the morning, that there would be ample food on the table at night, and that one could easily replace a pair of worn shoes or a tom coat without throwing the household budget into havoc. It was knowing that there was a point and purpose to the long hours Robbie spent struggling with his Latin and Greek, for there would be school and university in his future. Knowlton had offered all that, but she could not accept his terms.

  The events of six years ago washed back over her. The angry words, the veiled threats, the fear and the distrust. Could she take the chance now? For there was one other place where she could find security. One other person she could turn to in order to ensure that at least Robbie had a future in which he could seek his own happiness. She had enjoyed four blissful years married to Robert. Perhaps that was all the happiness she was destined to achieve in this life. But Robbie was still young, with his whole life before him. She could still hope for more for him.

  Six years ago, she had scornfully turned her back on her only other source of assistance. Now she would have to go hat in hand, pleading her case. But if Robbie benefited, it would be worth the damage to her pride.

  Her pride. Katherine smiled ruefully. She had made so many decisions based on pride, and what had it earned her? A life where she and her son lived on the precarious edge of survival. A life where she was subjected to offers

  of the type Knowlton had made. Pride was an expensive commodity in her situation. Too expensive.

  With a sigh, Katherine rose and picked up the candle. She followed the eerie shadows it threw on the wall as she mounted the stairs to her room. It was time to confront the past. She and Robbie would leave for London tomorrow.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ’Tis time, I feel, to leave thee now,

  While yet my soul is something free. . . .

  —Thomas Moore, To

  Katherine nervously clenched her hands together, staring blindly out the window as the hackney wound its way toward St. James Square. For the thousandth time, she prayed she was making the right decision. For both Robbie and herself.

  As the coach pulled up in front of the modest building, a liveried footman opened the door and assisted Katherine from the carriage. He followed her up the few stone steps, where another footman held open the front door.

  Adjusting her eyes to the dim light in the entry hall, Katherine looked about for her first view of the town house of the Marquess of Winslow. A silent, stem-faced butler motioned for her to follow him up the stairs. With tight self-control, she refrained from gawking at the ancient paintings and ornamental vases lining the staircase walls, but she was helpless not to come to a dead stop when she saw the painting at the head of the stairs. There was no question it was Robert—at ten or eleven, perhaps, posing with his older brother, Frederick. The painter had captured his boyish enthusiasm, the elan that had so swept her off her feet when she was seventeen. How she hoped Robbie could see this portrait. Despite the differing hair color, they looked so much alike.

  “My lady?” The butler was correctly proper.

  She started self-consciously, embarrassed at having been caught gawking like a visitor on open day. “Proceed,” she directed.

  While the butler held open the door to the marquess’s study, Katherine halted momentarily outside the room. What fate awaited her inside? Would she be welcomed home as the prodigal daughter, or tossed out on her ear as an unwanted relative? Whatever the outcome, there was no changing her mind now. Her last hope rested inside the room. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped through the doorway.

  The man behind the desk rose as she entered. Katherine struggled to suppress a small cry of shock at his appearance. In the six years since she had seen him last, he looked to have aged twenty. His hair was completely white now, and his shoulders were stooped with age. Still, he projected the aura of command that she remembered so well.

  “So, my dear, you have decided to come out of hiding at last.” He did not conceal the derision in his voice.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Your letter mentioned that you are interested in discussing the future of my grandson. He is well, I trust.”

  She nodded, fighting down her nervousness. “He is still recovering from a broken leg earned in a riding accident, but otherwise enjoys excellent health.”

  “Trying to crowd his fences, eh?”

  “Not anything so dramatic.” Katherine forced a tentative smile. “He only learned to ride this past summer, and a shooting party startled his mount.”

  The Marquess of Winslow shook his head in a display of sympathy, and motioned for her to sit. He took his own chair and surveyed her with an assessing gaze. “Well, madam, what exactly is it that you wish to discuss?”

  Katherine took a deep breath and met his piercing stare without flinching. So much depended on the outcome of this interview; if she made a mistake, antagonizing him further . . .

  “Robbie needs an education, my lord. And I simply do not have the funds to send him to a school commensurate with his station—or his abilities.” She unconsciously played with the folds of her skirt. “He is doing quite well at the present, taking lessons with the vicar, who has no doubt that Robbie will be able to take his place at school with no shame to his studies.”

  Katherine looked down briefly, steeling herself to say the words. Raising her gaze, she again met the marquess’s imperious gaze. “I am asking you to pay his tuition, and perhaps use your power to find him an adequate position when he finishes his schooling.”

  “Hmm.” The marquess sat silently for a moment.

  Relief flooded Katherine at having at last made her request. It was all in his hands now; she had done what she could. She searched his lined face for a clue to the fate of her mission, but he gave no hint of his feelings.

&
nbsp; “What career does the lad envision?” he asked at length.

  “He wishes to be a cavalry officer.” She gave him a small, apologetic smile. “I think he would do well at law, my lord.”

  The marquess toyed with his penknife, which only served to increase Katherine’s agitation. Her fingers continued their nervous fumbling.

  “Why now, after all these years?” His deep blue eyes stared at her coldly.

  “It is school,” she said simply, having practiced this answer numerous times. “Robbie deserves to have a proper education. I do not care if it is Eton or Harrow—there are other schools just as fine. Since there are so few scholarship opportunities ... I thought I would appeal to you first.”

  “Have you forgotten your last words to me?” The marquess’s face grew harsh.

  “No, my lord, I have not.” Katherine lifted her chin defiantly. “And I still believe them to be true. You had no right to accuse me of being an unfit guardian for my son, or to attempt to take him from me. If you still feel that way, I shall take my leave.” She rose to her feet.

  “Sit down, Katherine. You have not completely outgrown your impetuous nature, I see.” The marquess leaned back in the chair, forming his fingers into a steeple. “I believe I shall make you a bargain, madam. Let me make young Robert’s acquaintance. If I think that you have done an acceptable job of raising him to this point, I will do as you ask.”

  “And if not?”

  “I will wash my hands of the both of you.” His tone was abrupt.

  “I think this is a bargain I shall easily win,” she replied with the hint of a smile. Hope leapt within her. “He is bright, inquisitive, and eager for new experiences. Very much like his father.”

  “Who was also a hotheaded young fool without an ounce of common sense when he got the bit between his teeth,” the marquess countered.