by Collum, Lynn
What mischief was Dorinda about now? Karis knew her cousin was determined to marry and become a part of Society. But why was she so obsessed with meeting Lord Marsden? Her parents intended to give her a Season, or did they?
Over the past year both Lord and Lady Westerly had complained about the expense of going to London for the Season when there were any number of eligible young men in Warwickshire. Each had actually hinted that the wealthy Mr. Roland Tanner would be an acceptable match despite his lack of lineage. Aunt Flora had once confided to Karis that Lord Westerly feared that his headstrong daughter might create some scandal before she brought a gentleman up to scratch. But Dorinda didn't consider the squire's son acceptable. She was determined to do better.
Was that what was driving the girl to pursue the marquess in this most outlandish manner? Karis watched as Dorinda stopped to unsnag her cape from a thorn bush. Once free she set out straight for the house.
Biting pensively at her lip, Karis wondered if she should go down and confront her cousin? She might be able to thwart Dorinda's plot. The only problem was that she and Anthea were not supposed to be at Whiteoaks.
Dorinda would find some way to punish them for what she would see as disloyalty and too often her harshest acts were directed against Anthea. Her cousin knew that hurt Karis far more than any humiliation inflicted upon herself.
Perhaps it would be best to merely secrete herself some place and watch what Dorinda planned to do. That way, Karis knew she could put a stop to whatever it was if the need arose. Coming to a decision, she hurried down the stairs and entered the library. She went to the tall casement windows and peeked around the edge of the faded green curtains. Her cousin's cream-coloured bonnet was barely visible above the top of the long uncut hedge. Dorinda was making her way towards the very room in which Karis now stood.
As her cousin's face came into view, Karis drew back, wondering if Dorinda was so lost to propriety that she would actually invade Lord Marsden house. The question was answered within minutes when the window creaked and groaned as Miss Westerly pushed it open.
Karis frantically looked for a place to hide. The library was spartanly furnished with few chairs and tables. With the exception of the desk, she could see nothing behind which she might hide. But to step to the huge oak desk would make her clearly visible to her cousin.
Dorinda's leg came through the window, indecorously exposing her silk stocking to the knee. About to be caught, Karis quickly stepped behind the curtain by the window, hoping her cousin wouldn't spy her.
After a great deal of grunting and swearing which was more suited to a groom than a lady of Quality, her cousin pulled herself through the window. She issued another loud groan.
Karis peeked around the edge of the curtain. She saw Dorinda's cape extended back out the window, caught tight on some obstruction, likely a bramble. Her cousin, face distorted with frustration, pulled on the garment with all her might. Suddenly the cape came free, sending Dorinda reeling backwards into a heap on the library floor. Her casquet bonnet flew from her head and land in the ashes which spilled out on the hearth.
Scrambling to her feet she yanked the bonnet away, but sooty grey stains had ruined the cream-coloured surface. Dorinda swore, then tossed the bonnet on the chair. She marched back and closed the window she'd entered through, then returned to the fireplace and removed her cape.
Karis covertly watched her vain cousin pull bits of leaves and twigs from her black curls, throwing the pieces into the dying fire. The girl muttered angrily to herself, but her words reached Karis.
“Well, my lord marquess, you have put me to a great deal of trouble this cold morning and I shall see that you pay the toll. If I have my way, you shall have a fiancée before I leave this house today.”
Karis bit her lip to keep from crying out in shock. This was no mere attempt to meet Lord Marsden. Dorinda's intent was far more sinister. She was going to try to compromise herself.
The sound of rending fabric brought Karis from her musings. Dorinda had torn the sleeve of her velvet dress, exposing a length of arm. Karis clutched the curtain in horror. She'd never before realized the depth of the cousin's wickedness.
The sound of a door being sharply closed echoed from the Great Hall then the marquess's voice. As footstep came closer to the library, Karis knew she must do something to protect Lord Marsden from her cousin.
About to step from behind the curtain, she was suddenly struck by the thought that his lordship might think she was somehow involved in her cousin's devious plot to ensnare him. She was filled with uncertainty about what was best to do.
Karis heard the marquess step through the open door and come to an abrupt halt. His familiar voice as cold as the wind outside reminded Karis of her own first meeting with the gentleman.
“Good, God, not another one. Madam, who are you and why are you in my library?”
Chapter Four
Marsden glared at the young woman standing before him. He'd never seen her before but he knew the type--beautiful, spoiled and determined. He'd married just such a woman. There was little doubt in his mind as to why she was in his house.
Dorinda, unaware of his growing hostility, stepped forward. Tilting her head just so, she gazed with a wide-eyed stare so the marquess could admire her blue eyes. In a breathless voice she said, “Thank goodness someone has come. I thought no one had heard my cries for help.”
“You were being attacked in my library?” The marquess' voice sounded bored and his face was a mask of indifference.
Dorinda giggled, shaking her head to make her raven locks bounce. “No, my lord, I was coming to Whiteoaks to thank Binx for helping me yesterday. But some large animal, I did not see what, came from the jumble of weeds in the garden and tried to attack me as I walked up the drive. I rushed for the house and came straight in, for I knew I needn't stand on ceremony with my old friend Rachel's family.”
His grey eyes were like two bits of stone as they raked her. “You were old friends with my late wife?”
“Oh my, yes. I am Miss Dorinda Westerly. My father is Baron Westerly of Westwood Park, the estate next door. Why, Rachel would often come to take me for walks and read me stories, for as you know, she was much older than I.” Dorinda had barely seen Rachel Whitehead above two times in her childhood, but she was certain his lordship wouldn't know that since he and his wife had never visited the estate during their marriage.
Lord Marsden allowed his gaze to drop to the bailiff's contract rolled in his hand. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that his deceased wife didn't have a maternal bone in her lovely body. She'd surrendered Rosalind to a wet nurse after her birth, and barely saw the child after that, being far more interested in her friends and fashions. Glancing back at the young woman before the fireplace, he took in the torn sleeve, confirming his worst suspicions. She was plotting something, but he would not be such easy prey.
He called over his shoulder to the footman he'd just passed as he entered, “Toby, I believe we shall need Mrs. Shelby at once.”
Unfortunately, a knock sounded at the door forestalling the servant from going for the housekeeper. With a feeling of dread, the marquess partially turned and watched Toby open the door. Somehow he knew this visitor meant trouble. It was as if those gods he'd spoken of to Miss Lockhart were punishing him for relaxing his guard over the past few days.
To his surprise, Miss Westerly threw herself at him, pressing close with her hands clutching his arms in a near death grip. “My lord, we must not be found alone like this.”
The marquess set her from him. Then he looked up to see a large older woman in a voluminous purple cape with white fur collar push her way past his footman.
“I have come to see Lord Marsden.” The lady, having barely uttered the words, spied the marquess standing in the doorway and without so much as a by your leave, advanced on him. “There you are, my lord. I have come with an invitation--”
She abruptly halted upon seeing the gentleman w
as not alone. Her gaze swept the visitor, then a martial glint settled in her brown eyes. She advanced on the couple. “What is the meaning of this, my lord? Why is my daughter here with you alone?”
The marquess's face grew bleak as the looming marital noose tightened around his neck.
All three of the participants in the little melodrama started when a voice behind them disputed Lady Westerly's claim. “Hardly alone, Aunt Flora, for Anthea and I have been at Whiteoaks all morning.”
Karis's knees were shaking when she'd stepped from behind the curtain. She knew she'd pay a heavy price later, but she couldn't stand by and allow her cousin to do such a despicable thing to Lord Marsden. Whatever happened, it would be worth it for the look of thanks reflected in the marquess's eyes as he smiled at her over her cousin's head.
Dorinda's hands drew into tight fist as she stared at her cousin through narrowed lids. Where the devil had the cunning little baggage come from? Karis Lockhart had been nothing but an annoyance for the past year but today she'd ruined everything, Dorinda thought bitterly.
Lady Westerly, an innocent in this dark comedy, appeared at first relieved to see her daughter was accompanied, then curious. “What are you and Anthea doing here?”
Marsden watched as Karis nervously ran hands down the front of the apron she wore, brushing bits of flour loose while she tried to explain.
“Well, since Dorinda did not need me . . . That is, Anthea and I . . .”
Seeing the glowering look on Miss Westerly's pretty countenance, the marquess suspected that Miss Lockhart had risked much by foiling her cousin's little ploy. He would not abandon her to the conniving beauty's wrath. “I invited your niece to bring her sister, Miss Anthea, for the day to play with my daughter, Lady Rosalind. I hope you don't mind, Lady Westerly.”
“Not in the least, my lord,” the baroness replied.
That mystery cleared, the lady realized the greater question was why her own daughter was here. The girl was supposed to be home in bed resting. Lady Westerly was suddenly interested in getting Dory alone to find out what plot she was engaged in. Her greatest fear was that the headstrong child would ruin her chances at a good match by doing something outrageous.
When the baroness remain quiet, the marquess wisely continued his efforts for Karis. “I fear my daughter and I have taken advantage of Miss Lockhart's kind nature and artistic talents. She and the girls have been quite busy all morning making Christmas decorations for the Great Hall while I was away handling matters for the estate.”
Dorinda laughed. What a great fool her cousin was. She'd spent her time with the most handsome man to come to Warwickshire in ages acting like a nursemaid and servant. `Twas no wonder he'd gone off on business. In a sweet voice edged with sarcasm, she remarked, “My cousin does so love getting her hands dirty.”
Karis's cheeks warmed, but she merely pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket which she'd been using to cut the red ribbons. “Shall we find needle and thread to repair that tear in your gown, cousin?”
The baroness had failed to note the torn sleeve. “Dorinda Westerly, that dress was new and you have practically ruined it. When I think what I paid that modiste--well never mind. Come with me at once, only Jane has the skill to repair such a fine garment.”
“But Mama, what about Karis? We cannot leave her . . . alone with a gentleman.”
As the baroness eyed her niece thoughtfully, the sounds of children's laughter echoed in the Great Hall. The girls came down the stairs calling for Karis. The marquess stepped to the door, signaling them to come to the library.
Lady Rosalind entered carrying two kittens. She ignored the unknown ladies, going straight to Karis. “We are done painting the cones. When can we finish the decorations?”
Anthea trailed in behind Lady Rosalind. She also carried a kitten, but halted warily at the sight of her aunt and cousin. A defiant look settled in her hazel eyes. “Good afternoon, Aunt Flora. What brings you and Dorinda to Whiteoaks?”
Suddenly reminded of her purpose, the baroness fumbled in her reticule for a few minutes before pulling out a card. “I almost forgot. Lord Marsden, we are having a dinner on Christmas Eve and you are most cordially invited. `Tis nothing grand, but I thought you might enjoy meeting your closest neighbors.”
Under normal circumstances, Marsden would have refused. He'd come to Warwickshire to repair the house, not to socialize, but just now he knew he should stay in the baroness's good graces to try to protect Miss Lockhart as best he could from any reprisals from her cousin. “I should be delighted to attend.”
Lady Westerly beamed. “Excellent, my lord. My daughter and I will take our leave. We look forward to seeing you then. We must be off, Dory.”
Dorinda wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. She was being forced to return home while her mousy cousin might remain. She must leave the gentleman with a lasting impression of her. Her gaze came to rest on the rather frail looking child beside her cousin, Dorinda saw an opportunity to advance herself with Lord Marsden.
“Such an adorable child, my lord.” Dorinda went to the little girl who drew back at Miss Westerly's advance. “Don't be frightened for I am an old friend of your dear departed mama's.”
Lady Rosalind surprised her father when she sullenly replied, “That is what all the ladies say who are wishing to meet my papa.”
Dorinda gave the child a rather sour smile, but quickly rallied. “Can I pet the dear little kittens?”
Anthea would not quietly tolerate such nonsense. “If they are so dear, why did you make me get rid of them?”
Lady Westerly, ever ready to defend her daughter, said, “Anthea, you know it is not safe to have the kittens around a dog. They are far better here at Whiteoaks. Dorinda, `tis time that we go for it appears Karis shall be very busy with the girls finishing the decorations.”
Dorinda didn't like leaving Karis in the company of the marquess, not that he would look twice at the girl, but she had little choice. Things had not gone as Dorinda had planned. As the marquess coldly returned her stare, she decided perhaps it was best for her to go with her mother. Her cousin would be well occupied with her decorations and the marquess wouldn't likely remain for such domestic business.
Lady Westerly and her daughter said their goodbyes. The baroness reconfirming the time for the dinner while Dorinda, in an undertone, reminded her cousin she had duties at Westwood that she should not neglect.
The marquess walked the women to the door, saying farewell and declaring himself delighted to be coming to their dinner. He closed the door with a sigh of relief, knowing what a close thing it had been and knowing he owned Miss Lockhart a debt of gratitude.
He returned to the library, but was offered no opportunity for private speech with the lady. The two girls were again demanding that she help them finish the decorations.
With an apologetic smile, Karis allowed the girls to lead her from the library. She wouldn't dwell on what would happen once she returned to Westwood, but she was certain her cousin would exact some punishment. She decided to concentrate on finishing the Kissing Bough and getting the decorations hung. She called an invitation over her shoulder to Lord Marsden to join them.
Karis's smile broadened and a warmth rushed through her when the marquess fell into step with her and asked what he might do to help as they followed the girls to the kitchen.
* * *
On the carriage ride home, Dorinda fobbed her mother off with a lie about going to Whiteoaks in search of her cousins. Then she had been required to sit quietly while her mother rang a peal over her head for being out of the house when she'd been unwell. In truth, she'd scarcely heard a word of the reprimand because her mind had been busy plotting her revenge on her interfering cousin. Just as the carriage drew to a halt in front of Westwood Park, a plan came to her. All she had to do was convince her mother and her problems with Cousin Karis would be at an end.
At last they were settled in the back parlor with a roaring fire. Her mother's mood mellowe
d by having her feet up and a tray of Cook's famous macaroons beside her, Dorinda casually broached the topic. “Do you intend for Karis to make a come out in the spring at the same time as myself?”
Lady Westerly looked up from the cup of tea she was stirring. “Waste money on a Season for a girl with no fortune and little beauty? I think not, my dear. She and Anthea shall accompany us to London but continue as they have here, living quietly. It never does to give one ideas above one's station.”
“But won't society think it rather strange, nay even mean-spirited of you, to have Karis in your household and not take her about since she is of an age to have a Season?”
A speculative look came into the baroness's eyes. She knew appearances were everything in the social world. But the expense of dressing a young lady other than her daughter was not to be considered. “She will simply have to remain out of sight in Town.”
“But Mama, you know how servants gossip. It would soon be all around that you had some niece being hidden away from Society, then we would be thought to be harboring a Bedlamite.” Dorinda watched the horror come on her mother's face with satisfaction as she fed Princess bits of cake.
“We cannot have someone thinking there is madness in the family. But I cannot leave the girls here, for I intend to take much of the staff with me to London to save the expense of hiring people there.”
Setting her beloved pug on the floor, Dorinda rose and walked to the window. “Was it your intention to provide for Karis and Anthea for a lifetime?”
“Your papa and I had thought when Karis turned one and twenty that a position as governess might be found for her. You know she is acting as such to her own sister.” Lady Westerly gazed dotingly at her daughter who looked positively angelic in the glow of light from the window.
“Mama, Karis is the cleverest lady I know. You have said yourself she is practically a bluestocking. Why wait and bear the expense of housing her for two more years? I am certain any of your acquaintances would welcome a governess as intelligent as my cousin. As for Anthea, I can set a program of studies for her to follow which would be more fitting than all that Greek and Latin that Karis thinks so important.” Dorinda smiled innocently as she looked back at her mother.