The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  Katherine was forced to admit she did feel better after talking with Castalia. Infectious gaiety and amusing gossip were exactly what Katherine’s bruised spirits needed. And despite her earlier protestations, she was quite willing to join her sister-in-law for a morning of shopping. Anything j to keep her mind off that disastrous meeting with Knowlton. She began to understand why so many matrons overspent their allowances. A new parasol overcame a multitude of hurts.

  Upon exiting the shop where Castalia had ordered another two winter bonnets, Katherine recognized Lady j Wentworth alighting from a carriage.

  “Elizabeth!” she cried joyfully.

  Lady Wentworth looked bemused for a moment and then recognition creased her face. “Katherine! Whatever are you doing in London?”

  “It is a complicated tale,” Katherine replied, turning to Castalia. “Are you acquainted with my sister-in-law, Lady Durham? This is the Countess Wentworth.”

  “It is a pleasure to meet you,” replied Elizabeth. “But how is she your sister-in-law?”

  “My deceased husband was a son of the marquess of Winslow,” Katherine confessed.

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, her eyes widening. “And you never told me. Shame on you, Katherine.”

  “The marquess and I had not been on friendly terms for years,” Katherine explained defensively. She did not miss the slight hurt in Elizabeth’s eyes, and felt a pang of regret for having deceived her friend.

  “And now you are?”

  Katherine nodded.

  Elizabeth raised a questioning brow. “Does Knowlton know?”

  Katherine did not miss Castalia’s unveiled look of interest at the mention of the earl’s name. “He does,” she replied softly, hoping Elizabeth would say no more.

  “What a delightful surprise this all is,” Elizabeth said. “I insist you visit tomorrow and tell me the whole story.”

  “Are you to be in town long?”

  “Somers insisted that we come up, since I have been too wrapped up with Caro to even care much for society this last year.” Elizabeth laughed. “Spending the Little Season in town is my penance.”

  “Did you bring Caro with you?” Katherine had grown fond of the little girl during her stay at Warrenton.

  “Of course. And you will have to visit her as well tomorrow. The town nursery is a great big barn of a room, but she has settled in rather well. I shall see you then. Lady Durham.” Elizabeth nodded her farewell and continued on her way.

  Castalia said nothing until she and Katherine were seated in the carriage.

  “You did not tell me you were acquainted with Lord Knowlton.” The reproof in her voice was strong.

  Katherine ducked her head deferentially. “We were merely neighbors.”

  “Katherine!”

  “Robbie and I rented a cottage on his estate,” Katherine said quickly. Elizabeth would keep her counsel. Castalia would not. She had no need to know about what was now firmly in the past. “He was very kind to Robbie.”

  “Knowlton never struck me as the type who would put himself out for a small boy.” Castalia surveyed Katherine with open suspicion.

  “I own his reputation with women is dreadful, but he is well-thought-of at his home.” Katherine felt odd defending the man who once wished to make her his mistress. But it was the truth. Just as she had come to know the Knowlton who lay beneath the cynical exterior, she wanted Castalia to know that there was more to him than his reputation allowed. “He is a conscientious landlord, liked by both tenants and neighbors.”

  “What stories I will have to tell the ton.” Castalia’s eyes twinkled. “The dreadful Lord Knowlton befriends young boys, widows in distress, and farmers.”

  “Do not say anything,” Katherine pleaded quickly. She did not want her name linked to Knowlton’s in any manner. He would detest such gossip as much as she.

  Castalia eyed her curiously but said no more.

  Katherine was pleased to find Caro with Elizabeth when she arrived at their elegant Grosvenor Square house the following morning. She played games with the girl for half an hour before Caro was returned to the nursery.

  “Now, tell me about your estrangement from the marquess,” Elizabeth eagerly leaned forward in her chair. “It all sounds so deliciously mysterious!”

  “It is all rather silly, in retrospect,” Katherine said, shaking her head in self-deprecation. “Winslow was less than delighted when Robert and I eloped, and when Robert was killed, the marquess tried to take Robbie from my care.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “Frederick had not married then, and Robbie was next in line to the title,” Katherine explained, although even after six years she still did not completely absolve the marquess for his actions. “Now that Castalia has the boys, Robbie is not so important.”

  “So the old marquess accepts you now?”

  “More for Robbie’s sake than mine, I fear.” Katherine smiled wryly. “But we are able to tolerate each other. And I cannot complain about his generosity. He is allowing us to make our home with him until Robbie goes to school next year.”

  “How interesting, to discover such a similarity in our lives. For I was estranged from my family for the longest time, until Somers drew us back together.” Elizabeth smiled fondly. “Perhaps that is why we developed such a quick friendship.”

  Katherine nodded. She had felt it also, that sense of having found a kindred spirit in Elizabeth.

  “What are your plans after Robbie goes away to school?”

  Katherine contemplated her fingers. “I am not certain. There is a dower house on Winslow’s country estate—”

  “Do not say you intend to lose yourself in the country again?” Elizabeth’s eyes flashed in protest. “You are much too young and pretty to settle for such a thing. You should be on the lookout for another husband.”

  “The idea does not appeal to me,” Katherine replied stiffly. Was she to be badgered on this topic by Elizabeth as well?

  “Nonsense. Surely Winslow would set you up with a reasonable dowry. I know any number of men who would be interested, no matter what size settlement you brought.” She gave Katherine a sidelong glance. “Although I rather thought that you and Knowlton—”

  “There was never anything between the earl and me,” Katherine interjected hastily.

  “And pigs fly,” Elizabeth retorted. “I am not blind, Katherine. I noticed the way he looked at you. And the way you viewed him in return.”

  “Knowlton has no inclination to marry,” Katherine said, more vehemently than she intended.

  “And you wish it otherwise, don’t you?” Elizabeth squeezed Katherine’s hand in sympathy. “Are you dreadfully fond of him?”

  Katherine nodded, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “I know it is pure folly, but I could not help myself. He has such a dreadful reputation, but he is one of the warmest, most caring men I have ever known.”

  “I shall have to speak to him and knock some sense into that brain of his.”

  Katherine grabbed Elizabeth’s hand. “Do not! He never misrepresented his intentions. I have only myself to blame for my foolishness.”

  “Do not worry, Katherine. I will say nothing to Knowlton if you do not wish it. But I still insist the man is a fool to allow you to slip from his fingers.”

  “He is doing it of his own volition.”

  “Have you seen him in town? Does he know of your connection with Winslow?”

  Katherine nodded. “Knowlton is determined to remain free from the chains of wedlock,” she said, a thread of sadness in her voice. “There is nothing I can do to change the situation. So I have resolved to think of him no more.”

  “Then we shall have to find you a husband elsewhere,” Elizabeth announced emphatically. “I am certain there will be several suitable candidates in town this fall. This makes me look forward to the Season even more.”

  “I do not wish to marry again,” Katherine protested, knowing that it would be as futile to argue with Elizabeth as it had
been with Castalia. Trust her luck to have fallen in with such confirmed matchmakers.

  “We shall see,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Now that you have family around you, I assume it is too much to expect that you will visit with us over Christmas.”

  “I own I had not thought that far ahead,” Katherine said. “I do not know what sort of celebration the family plans. I would like to visit you.”

  “It will be quite sedate, I fear.” Elizabeth leaned closer and patted her abdomen. “It seems we are to be blessed with a permanent reminder of our stay at Warrenton.”

  Katherine winced inwardly at Elizabeth’s happy news. Another joy she would never experience again. “How wonderful,” she said with unfeigned enthusiasm to Elizabeth, and the conversation turned toward domestic matters.

  Knowlton expertly guided his prancing stallion through the empty park lanes. The early-morning gallop went far to restore his equanimity and clear his head, as did the cool morning air. His thinking had been woefully fuzzy these last few days, since seeing Katherine again.

  It had been more than a shock to discover that his prim little widow was connected with one of the premier families in the realm. He felt a measure of satisfaction in knowing that his dishonorable pursuit had driven her back into the secure hold of her husband’s relatives. They would take good care of her. It was the one thing he had worried about when he discovered Kate’s precipitate flight—that she would be in want. Knowing now that she was well-taken- care-of, he could rid his mind of her once and for all.

  He chose to ignore the fact that he had thought the same thing at Lady Durham’s, when he had hastened from the ball into the arms of one of London’s leading Cyprians. If that liaison had proved less than satisfactory, it could only be because of his disordered mood. The lovely lady had performed with admirable skill and talent, and he had merely not been in the proper frame of mind to appreciate it. He suspected he would be more entranced with the lovely opera dancer he planned to see tonight. He had deliberately waited a few days to make his conquest of her, knowing how well anticipation whetted his appetite. He had no doubts that tonight’s adventure would be very pleasurable.

  “Knowlton! Knowlton!”

  The earl’s head twisted around to identify his importuning caller.

  “Robbie!” A genuine smile crossed Knowlton’s face at the sight of the tousled redhead. Knowlton reined in his mount and watched with amusement as Robbie bounced along on his pony, a groom dutifully trailing behind him.

  “Thank you for sending Atlas! It is ever so wonderful to be back on him again.”

  “He was eating me out of hay and oats.” Knowlton laughed. “How is your leg? Healing properly?”

  Robbie nodded. “Mama did not want me to start riding so soon, but my grandfather said I could. Do you know I have a grandfather who is a marquess?”

  “Yes, I do,” Knowlton said. “It must be pleasant to discover you have a family.”

  Robbie considered. “Well, Grandpapa is nice, and I like Aunt Castalia and Uncle Frederick. But most of the cousins, well, they are either girls or babies.”

  Knowlton laughed inwardly at the note of disgust in Robbie’s voice. It would not be many years before he changed his view.

  “I did not know you were in London,” Robbie said with a faint hint of accusation in his voice.

  “It was an unexpected trip,” Knowlton lied. He keenly felt the boy’s disappointment. He had not stopped to consider how the break with Katherine also affected his relationship with Robbie. “Are you practicing your chess and whist?”

  Robbie scowled. “Grandpapa will not play with me. Uncle Frederick played a game of chess with me last week, but he is not at our house very often.” His face brightened hopefully. “Could you come to the house and play with me?”

  Knowlton winced at that plea. “I am afraid not, Robbie.” The lad’s crestfallen face smote him. He must do something for the boy. “Perhaps there is something else you and I could do together. Have you been to Astley’s yet?”

  Robbie shook his head, his eyes widening with hope. “Will you take me?”

  “You shall have to ask your mother,” Knowlton said. “If she approves, we shall go. Ask her if Tuesday will be acceptable.”

  “Oh, I am certain it will be.” Robbie’s face beamed with pleasure at the anticipated treat.

  Knowlton felt a twinge of regret for the relationship that must, by necessity, die away. Robbie was a good lad. In other circumstances, Knowlton would not mind keeping up the friendship. But it took only one glimpse of Robbie’s unruly red hair to bring the image of his mother to mind. He would take him to Astley’s to soothe his conscience. Robbie would gradually acquire his own circle of friends and not need him anymore.

  “Send a note round to Upper Brook Street when you find out,” Knowlton said. “And you be careful with that leg. We don’t want you laid up again.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Robbie. “Thank you again for sending Atlas.”

  “My pleasure.” Knowlton touched his hat and urged his horse forward. He could feel Robbie’s hero-worshipping gaze boring into his back as he trotted down the path. Damn!

  It had not seemed to be such a bad idea back at Warrenton, befriending the boy as he had. Even if he and Katherine had not made an arrangement, Robbie could have come and gone as he pleased at the house. But here in London, with eyes and ears everywhere . . . Any attention he directed at Robbie would be instantly scrutinized and analyzed with an eye to his mother. From Lady Durham’s introductions at that disastrous ball, it was quite apparent that Kate had said nothing of him to her new family. He

  hoped that the revelation of this chance meeting with Robbie would not cause her distress.

  He knew that Kate would not like the proposed trip to Astley’s, but hoped that she, like him, would see the necessity of a gradual sundering of his ties with Robbie. As he and his mother were drawn deeper into the Winslow circle, there would be little need for Knowlton to entertain the boy. And Knowlton was certain that Robbie would be headed off to school soon, which would effectively solve the whole problem. There was no deep cause for concern.

  Then why was he filled with such regret?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Is it thy will thy image should keep open

  My heavy eyelids to the weary night?

  —Shakespeare, Sonnet 61

  The death of the old queen brought an abrupt halt to Katherine’s debut into society. Not that the ton called a complete stop to their entertainments. The theaters closed for a respectable length of time, and dancing parties were curtailed, but little else changed—except the necessity of acquiring an entire new mourning wardrobe.

  However, the Winslow circle considered the event a chance to retreat to the country earlier than planned, so before December arrived, Katherine found herself back where she had longed to be—in the English countryside. To her dismay, the removal from London did not bring her the peace of mind she desired. She had thought that in the country, with no chance of another awkward encounter with Knowlton, she would be free from her memories. But it proved otherwise. Perhaps it was because her only other

  visit to the country home of the Winslows had been in Robert’s company, and had ended with the permanent breach between father and son. There were no fond remembrances here to lull her into serenity.

  And the country brought with it too many memories of the summer and fall in Lincolnshire. London was not fraught with experiences shared with Knowlton. But the country abounded with reminders. Neatly tilled fields evoked the heated days of harvest. The well-tended flowerbeds suggested the garden at Warrenton, where she and Knowlton had walked and talked, and where he had kissed her for the first time. And every sight of Robbie and his precious pony brought Knowlton’s face to mind.

  Even the gaiety of the Christmas and Twelfth Night celebrations did not soothe her spirits. Katherine treasured no fond memories of such opulent markers of the season; Christmas in the rectory had been a time for quiet reflection,
and there had been only one Christmas with Robert. Like everything else, the Winslows celebrated the season with uncommon enthusiasm. Katherine allowed herself to be drawn into the merriment, accepting chaste kisses from her relatives under the kissing ball, playing charades long into the night. But her enthusiasm was forced. The country did not bring the enjoyment she had hoped for.

  Yet she loathed the idea of returning to the city even more. Indeed, she managed to find any number of excuses to remain in the country while the rest of the family drifted back to the city. Castalia’s younger son developed the sniffles and Katherine volunteered to stay with him when the marquess returned to town for the opening of Parliament. Unfortunately, Castalia decided to remain as well, so Katherine was not freed from her sister-in-law’s determined plans for her future. At least there was little opportunity for them to be put into action while Katherine remained out of town.

  The long months of separation did little to dim her memories of Knowlton. Katherine did not think there were enough years left in her life for that to occur. But she reached an accommodation of sorts with her wayward heart. The sharp pain of the early parting receded into a dull ache, and she realized one day that she no longer thought of him every hour. Yet memories flooded back over her at the oddest times. The first spring flowers peeking their heads aboveground reminded her of the Harvest Home, when they had walked in his garden and he had promised to send her bulbs. The aroma of brandy brought back their lengthy cozy chats in the library at Warrenton. And every fond glance exchanged between Castalia and Frederick reminded Katherine with a pang that she was quite alone.