Eliza laughed, “Little sister, it’s as if it’s the two of us against the world, at times. With that wretched woman to make life ever more miserable.”
“Well,” Kat said, “she does bring him a certain happiness.”
This time, Eliza let out an incredibly unladylike snort. “She flatters him! Then she takes his work and he gets a few shillings, and—”
“And what?” Kat said.
“She’s after him,” Eliza said.
“After him? Papa is a poor artist.”
“And a very handsome man. An extremely talented one, as we both know…but so often, artists are long dead before their genius is realized. Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t trust the woman. She did not come with us once we moored the boat today, but then she returned tonight—acting as if she were so concerned about you! I stayed up here, of course, eavesdropping and pretending that we had both gone straight to sleep. I think she really wants the two of us out of the way! I’m telling you, she is looking to marry him.”
“That truly makes no sense,” Kat said. “She is, after all, Lady Daws. And Papa is a poor artist. A great one, but a poor one.”
“Sometimes men of great artistic talent do become known during their lives and are rewarded for it,” Eliza said. “And I can guarantee you that Lady Daws sees that in Papa, and the fact that she is Lady Daws does not mean that she is not in need of support. I think she only pretends that she has money of her own.”
“I’ve thought sometimes that she must make much more selling Papa’s art than what she gives to him,” Kat said worriedly. “She tells him, of course, that she works for a pittance, a small commission….”
“My thought exactly. She has been robbing him blind.”
“She cannot be in such sorry shape. I mean, she is Lady Daws. And she was married to Lord Daws.”
“But Lord Daws had a son by his first wife. The son inherited, and I think he probably despises his stepmother. I would!”
“Do you know that to be true?” Kat asked.
“No, I’m just willing to wager that it’s true. The son, Byron Daws, goes to university with your young swain, you know.”
“Does he, now.”
“Yes. But I never see him out sailing,” Eliza mused.
“Maybe he hates the water.”
“Maybe. Or has other interests,” Eliza said, shrugging. “There’s just so much about that woman that’s…well, frightening. It didn’t matter at first. At first, it seemed she was only being kind. At first, we all saw her as someone admirable. But then…well, to me, her designs on Papa became all the more evident. And, do you know what I heard?”
“No, what?”
“That there was some scandal in her past. That Lord Daws himself was nearly cast out of the family when he married her. But his father died before he could be cut out of the will.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“In one of the fabric shops,” Eliza said.
“Gossip!” Kat protested.
“Ah, but where there is smoke…”
“My dear sister, I think we must face the fact that we don’t like her, she doesn’t like us, but that we must all pretend that everything is fine—for Papa. And whatever the past, she is not an artist herself, but knows art. She finds and sells the work of others,” Kat said. “She makes a living, and we are doing better now than we were when Papa had to go out and sell his work himself.”
“I do not believe she is satisfied with what she is making. She will rob unknown artists like Papa blind,” Eliza said.
“Well,” Kat said very practically, “I don’t care much for her, either. But we’re both grown. And soon enough, we’ll both be gone, either to find a means of support ourselves or to be married. So even if we don’t trust her and don’t like her, if she makes Papa happy…”
“She’s evil,” Eliza insisted.
“Evil!” Kat said with a laugh.
“Yes, evil.” Eliza was truly upset. “Papa will not recognize his own talent. He will not go out and insist that the galleries recognize his work…but she makes him believe that only she can turn him into a true artist. Which is utter nonsense. Furthermore she is ever on about how he can afford to send us to schools elsewhere…in France, in Germany. Places where the daughters of men such as himself can work to earn their tutors and their board. Kat, quite honestly, I believe that she wants to be rid of the both of us. Just tonight, she was talking about a school for young women in Switzerland where Papa could afford to send you because the students earn their keep by cleaning and scrubbing and so forth! She hates us both, I think, but you more, for I have always been the more dutiful one. Quieter, less likely to make a fuss. You must be careful, Kat, because she wants you gone.” Eliza sighed. “If only…”
“If only I were far more pleasant and pliable with her—or about to marry a man of her choosing?” Kat asked dryly. She sighed, as well, and shook her head. “It’s only a dream if and when…never mind. And never fear. I’m not afraid of Lady Daws. She will not get her hands on me! And as to the other…I’ll just keep dreaming,” Kat said. Eliza still stared at her with such concern that she fiercely hugged her sister. “I’m all right. But now, truly exhausted. Let’s go to sleep, shall we?”
“But, Kat, don’t you see?” Eliza said. “Tonight, your dream was shattered. Papa is furious. We don’t live in the same world as the David Turnberrys.”
Kat sniffed. “Lady Daws borders on it!”
“Not in a good way, I don’t believe,” Eliza murmured. “Ah, dear sister! You’re still dreaming away while I…” She laughed. “I would have lived a dream already, having had dinner with such an eminent fellow as Hunter MacDonald!”
“Eminent also in scandal!”
“In a way, but he does nothing underhand. He isn’t secretive, unless he is protecting the honor of a woman. While Lady Daws—”
“We all see and hear, and even believe, what we choose,” Kat said sadly. “Anyway, it is time to go to sleep. And I’m sure you’ll get to go with Papa to return this dress. I mean, you must go with Papa! I don’t think that Hunter would betray me, but…you need to be there to protect me regarding this little episode tonight, and that is all there is to it.”
Eliza laughed. “Well, indeed! I will meet the man of such intrigue and fascination!”
“And I will…stay home. And dream some more,” Kat said.
“Will you?” Eliza said. “If I know you, you will be thinking up another way to get close to your David!”
“Such a dream is hardly likely. We must go to sleep!”
But trying to sleep and actually falling asleep were two different things.
First, Kat allowed herself a few silent tears into her pillow. She’d come so close…
And then, she tossed over, staring at the ceiling.
Eliza was right. She knew her well. She could not just forget.
She wouldn’t be beaten. She simply wouldn’t be beaten. David was going to take a ship and go on a long, long journey, and then spend a season in the ancient sands of the Sahara. His dainty fiancée would not be around all the time. He wouldn’t be married until he returned.
Scores of things could happen before then!
When she slept at last, she had determined that, come what may, when David left England, she would not be far behind.
Chapter 4
KAT WAS AWARE OF DISCOMFORT and did not know why. As she opened her eyes, blinking from sleep, the room was first a blur. It came into focus and then she knew why the discomfort.
Isabella, Lady Daws, was staring down at her.
“You are an incredibly cruel and uncaring young woman, Katherine Adair!” Lady Daws stated, her voice low and ever cultured, but carrying with it such malice that Kat was chilled. She was shamed, thinking that she had so worried her father. But it was not this woman’s concern.
“Why, good morning, Lady Daws.” She sat up, keeping the coverlet hugged close to her bosom. She looked around. “How strange, dear
lady, for this does appear to be my bedroom. My private quarters within our home, however humble.”
“Get up, Kat!” There was now a snap to her voice.
“I’ve discussed my actions yesterday with my father, Lady Daws. And I expressed my sorrow for the anxiety I caused him. I owe you no explanations.”
The woman smiled. “Of course not, dear.” Her smile was icy. “Not yet,” she added sweetly. Then she lowered her face close to Kat’s. “But I do find your behavior totally reprehensible. In my opinion, you should be sent far away, to a school where they teach girls like you how to obey and to be grateful—and to learn your place in life.”
“My place is in this house,” Kat returned lightly.
Lady Daws straightened and crossed her arms. Kat was certain that, beneath her skirts, her foot was tapping furiously.
“Ah, but you were rather anxious to leave it yesterday, weren’t you?”
Kat stared at her. To be quite honest, the woman was attractive. Her face was narrow and fine-featured, and her eyes were large and deep brown, a color that matched the thick waves of her hair. Her bearing was so upright and regal that Kat liked to imagine she wore a broomstick beneath her petticoats.
“Dear Lady Daws, please, say whatever it is you wish to say. And then, if you’d be so kind to allow me the privacy of my own room, I will be happy to rise.”
“Yes, you’ll rise, and you’ll rise quickly. We’ve company.”
“We’ve company?”
Either Isabella Daws ignored the bite in Kat’s query or simply couldn’t even entertain the notion that Kat didn’t consider the place also her home.
“Your mad dash into the sea has made the papers. Apparently, Sir Hunter extolled your…brave deed to a reporter and now your poor dear papa is both proud and concerned.”
“I made the papers?” Kat repeated, and mentally she realized that she had to thank Sir Hunter once again, no matter how difficult and condescending the man might be. “And Papa is…pleased? Who is it that is here?”
She started to rise. To her amazement, Isabella pushed her back.
“Not so fast.”
Kat let out a sound of irritation. “You were just telling me to get up!”
“Careful, girl. I may hold your future in my hands.”
Kat stared at her warily, eyes narrowing. Perhaps the woman truly was evil. Regardless, it was certainly true that she held great sway with her father.
“Really?” she queried carefully.
Isabella gave her a tight smile. “I personally think that you should be sent to a strict school, a very strict school—”
“Yes, Lady Daws, I know all about it. Eliza told me of your concern for us both last night.”
“Further education in such a place would do you very well. There’s no place for a young woman such as yourself other than in gainful employment or as the wife of a working man. But to be quite honest, you are a terrible drain on your poor father. You exhaust him, drain his talent.”
“I beg your pardon—”
“I am not finished.”
“I am!” Kat started to rise.
But this time, Lady Daws stopped her with words.
“Then you’ll never properly meet Lord Avery—or young David Turnberry.”
Startled, Kat went still.
Again, Isabella Daws lowered her face to Kat’s. “Sir Hunter MacDonald has come to your father with an offer from Lord Avery. The man will fund and provide a chaperone for you if you accompany his group as an art student and assistant to Sir Hunter on his expedition to Egypt next week. Apparently, you doodled some of your silly sketches when you were at Sir Hunter’s house. After Sir Hunter convinced the man that your father would not allow you to accept a monetary reward, Lord Avery was anxious that at least something be done. And he agreed that your sketch showed promise. There is no accounting for taste.”
Kat controlled her temper and said nothing.
“Your father is against the idea. One word from me, and he will refuse, no matter how eloquent Sir Hunter may be. And yet, one word from me, and…well, you just may be allowed to go.”
Kat stared at her then, chagrined, and in silence.
“And there we have it. Plain and simple. Let’s see. I do believe the ‘cat’ has now got your tongue.”
She thought she was so clever! Still, Kat did hold her tongue.
“Well, my dear?” Lady Daws demanded.
“Why would you help me?” Kat asked.
“Because you’ll have just so long on that excursion, Kat. And perhaps, just perhaps, you will gain something of what you’re seeking—though I doubt it. You see, I know that crowd. My stepson is one of those foolish youths, and they are so arrogant that they believe that those not within their elite circles exist merely for their amusement. I believe that you will no longer see them through such rose-tinted spectacles once you know them. And so, you will discover the truth of who and what you are.”
“I’ve nothing against either who or what I am, Lady Daws,” Kat said tautly.
“Really?” Lady Daws hiked an elegant brow. “Then it’s quite amazing how you disappeared…and then reappeared. Sir Hunter surely would have seen you home immediately, had he known where your home was. But the truth is you didn’t want to show him.”
“I had a nasty blow to the head—”
“Oh, Kat, lie to others. I know what you are.”
“How dare—”
“Spare me the indignity. You didn’t want your background known. As it has happened, your father’s talent is an unexpected asset in this little farce of yours. But here it is, on the line. You will go. You will have just the months while you are gone…and then, when you return, you will not stay. You’ll go away to school. The school of my choice. You will be sent away. And you will agree to this.”
Kat gritted her teeth. She’d had no idea just how much Lady Daws wanted her gone. Eliza was right.
“You’re not afraid for me?” Kat asked sweetly.
“Well, you are going into the desert, aren’t you? And there’s always a measure of danger on an expedition. Gold and riches tend to make men covetous. Are you afraid for yourself?”
Kat felt the slightest chill. She remembered David’s disjointed words when he had come to consciousness on the embankment. He thought he had been pushed into the river….
But if he had been in danger, that danger had been here, right here, in London. And afraid or not, she could not miss this incredible opportunity.
“I am not afraid at all,” she said coolly.
“If you get into trouble, my dear,” Isabella warned, “I will see to it that you are dealt with most seriously. In fact, your lovely face will never so much as be seen around here. Do you understand? Besides, I will have friends aboard the ship, and on the expedition, and I will know about your progress—or lack thereof—day after day!”
Now Kat was afraid. But then, once she was gone, Lady Daws couldn’t really touch her. The woman might bear the title “Lady,” but she was not at all on a social par with men as noble as Baron Turnberry and Lord Avery—nor, even, with men of renown such as Sir Hunter MacDonald.
Still…
For a moment, she wavered. She’d be leaving her father and Eliza.
Her head was suddenly spinning. The offer was astounding.
Eliza would be with their father, and though she hadn’t Kat’s spine—or sharpness of tongue—she was not in the least a weakling. She would be safe until she returned, and that was what mattered.
Nor could she prevent Papa from…forming whatever liaison he chose to form with this woman. Her mother had been gone since she’d been a child. If Papa craved feminine attention, even from this wretched woman, there was little she could do. No one could choose where another would look to find affection and solace.
Certainly, she knew all that herself.
She lifted her chin. Somehow, Lady Daws knew about her obsession with David Turnberry. Yet Kat had only ever spoken of it to Eliza, and her sister
would have never betrayed her.
She must have given herself away, she thought. And it was true, coveting David was like coveting a star in the heavens.
And yet…
If only he had time to be with her, time to get to know her! Stranger marriages had come about. They were living in an enlightened age, and—
“What will it be, Kat?” Isabella asked.
Kat felt as if she were selling her soul.
“I would love to go on the season’s expedition,” she said pleasantly.
Isabella smiled smugly. “You will remember our bargain,” she said softly.
“Oh, yes. Though I feel I’ve signed my soul to the devil,” Kat said.
“There will be no more comments like that!”
“Of course not, Lady Daws.”
“Then I will leave, and you must arise. We are all invited to breakfast at Sir Hunter’s.”
With that, Lady Daws swept out of the room.
And for a panicked moment, Kat thought that she really had sold her soul to the devil.
AS KAT CAME DOWN THE STAIRS, Hunter wondered if he hadn’t somehow lost his mind. Just what was it that he was doing?
I should have just let it all go.
She was no longer wearing his sister’s day dress, but she was every bit as beautifully attired, perhaps even more so. The neckline had a most unusual design that rose fashionably against the neck, yet had a small, flattering V right at the throat. The skirt was in elegant layers. With the bustle in serious decline, there was just a small rise at the rear, and the skirts seemed to flow grandly with her every movement. The color was also something that must have been selected with her in mind, for it was an amber color that made her hair seem even more like fire, her eyes more the color of gold. That hair today was respectably pinned in a loose chignon in the back, allowing small tendrils to escape.
When her eyes touched his, they were alight with a question. He knew she was wondering why he was doing this for her.
He offered her the slightest grin, and a shrug. I haven’t the foggiest notion! he might have responded.
Or maybe he did. Was it just petty annoyance that such a young woman would so blindly covet such a young fool as David Turnberry? Was he annoyed that her fixation was not on him? Ridiculous, of course, because she might not be from his customary social circles, but neither was she a woman to be taken lightly. He didn’t dare take a closer look at his emotions.
Reckless Page 6