by Jane Goodger
She heard Claudia’s giggle and turned to look at the small group. Graham sat, one leg stretched out, the other bent, a hand dangling casually over his knee. He had opened his jacket and was the picture of an elegant aristocrat. Whatever was tickling Claudia, apparently wasn’t as amusing to Graham, whose smile—if it could be called such—was tolerant at best. She almost felt sorry for Claudia at that moment. Graham would never love her, and Claudia was just silly enough to fall in love with him. Graham looked over to her at that moment, his gaze steady, and Katherine saw a subtle change in his smile. Then Claudia touched his arm with her hand, just a brief gesture, and Graham looked away. That small touch felt like a fist to Katherine’s stomach. It was a jarring reminder that she would never be allowed to touch Graham so publically, that their kisses must remain a secret. He is hers, she told herself forcefully. She had the terrible feeling she would not be able to be as blasé about Graham marrying Claudia as she’d thought.
Katherine looked away, only to find Marjorie gazing at her with concern. “What did Cook provide?” Katherine asked with false cheer.
“Chicken sprinkled with envy,” Marjorie quipped, and Katherine wrinkled her nose at her.
Lady Summerfield let out a strong laugh, apparently delighted with her daughter’s wit. Katherine had never seen a mother take such delight in a daughter. The woman, who was as attractive as the stern of a ship, lit up whenever Marjorie was about. Then, in a matter of a few moments, Lady Summerfield frowned heavily. “Your brother is here. Goodness, what is he wearing?”
Katherine followed Lady Summerfield’s gaze to find a tall, thin young man with a mop of bright red hair walking toward them. He wore a dark red jacket that clashed rather awfully with his hair.
“I’ll have to speak with his valet. Again,” Lady Summerfield said. “Does he have to be late for everything?”
Marjorie leapt up and greeted her brother with an enthusiastic hug, which he seemed to accept reluctantly, then drew him to their blanket. “George, let me introduce you to Miss Wright and Mrs. Wright. They’re Americans. Ladies, please meet my brother, George Penwhistle, Lord Summerfield.”
“Pleased to meet you,” George said hesitantly, nodding his head in time to his words. “It takes eight days on a steamship to go from New York to London.”
“Yes, I know,” Katherine said, slightly confused at his pronouncement.
“George, they took a steamship here, so they already know how long it takes. You need a haircut,” Lady Summerfield said, and immediately George’s hand swept up to his unruly mop.
“Oh. Yes, Mother.”
“Sit down, George. There’s plenty here,” Marjorie said, sitting and dragging her brother down with her. He let out a laugh as he nearly lost his balance.
It was obvious to Katherine that Marjorie and her brother were close, and it made her miss her sister, Lucy. It was also obvious that something was a bit off about George. Little things, like the way he spoke, bobbing his head nearly continuously. He never quite met Katherine in the eye, as if she were a Medusa who could turn him to stone. And yet he seemed to be an intelligent man; perhaps he was just socially awkward. Throughout the luncheon, Marjorie encouraged him to talk as much as her mother discouraged him. The poor young man was quite at odds with whom to please. He would turn to Marjorie and enthusiastically start to tell her about some prank a boy at school had perpetrated, only to be silenced by his mother. It was almost as if Lady Summerfield disliked her own son.
“Do you enjoy school?” Katherine asked.
“Oh yes, indeed I do,” George said, darting a look first to his mother then to Marjorie. “I have six professors. One is from Sussex, two from London, one from—”
“I’m certain Miss Wright doesn’t need to know where your professors were born, George,” Lady Summerfield said.
He looked momentarily stunned that Katherine wouldn’t be interested, then nodded his head.
“Where are the other two from? I’m interested,” Marjorie said, looking not at her brother but at her mother.
“One is from Sussex, two from London, one from Glasgow, one from Leeds, and one from York.”
“George was born breech,” Lady Summerfield said succinctly. Marjorie squeezed her brother’s hand. “Shall I make you a plate, George?”
He nodded, staring at his hands as Lady Summerfield sat stoically, gazing at the lake, her lips pressed tightly together. Clearly, her son was a Disappointment.
Katherine chatted as they ate, but it seemed as if a pall had come over the day. Though Marjorie laughed at the stories about carefree summers in upstate New York, her laughter seemed forced, especially in light of the fact that Lady Summerfield continued to act as if she had a burr in her drawers.
“Shall we all go for a walk?” Katherine said when they’d finished eating.
“You young people go on,” Lady Summerfield said, and Katherine could tell her mother was a tad disappointed to be left behind with the taciturn woman.
When they were well away from the picnic, Marjorie said, “She is so horrid to George that I want to scream.”
“She just thinks I’m an idiot,” George said without inflection.
“But she’s wrong,” Marjorie said with force.
George shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what she thinks. I have the best reports at Cambridge, so I know I’m not an idiot.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“I want to go to university,” Katherine said in a rush. She rarely admitted that ambition out loud.
“Truly? And what would you study?”
“I don’t really know. My parents are both opposed, of course. They want me to marry.”
“Don’t you want to get married?”
“I don’t see why I can’t do both. Men do.”
“That’s true,” Marjorie said, but it was clear she was skeptical. “But it might be difficult being a scholar and a marchioness at the same time.”
Katherine gave her friend a look of pure exasperation. “I do wish you and your mother would stop this nonsense.”
“I’ll stop when he stops smiling brilliantly every time he sees you.” Yes, there was that. Katherine was frankly amazed at how seriously these folks took their legends. She had no doubt they already were envisioning the wedding. Too bad they couldn’t envision a way for Graham to obtain a million pounds on his own so he didn’t have to marry Claudia.
“When do you go back to school?” Katherine asked George, desperate to change the subject.
“September ten. Next Tuesday.”
“He’s studying law. He has a brain for facts and figures and really is a genius at remembering case study.”
George bobbed his head in agreement. “My father studied law,” he said. “He was the second son and I am the first and only son. He died January fourteenth in 1865 and that made me heir. His older brother died when he was thirty-five, October sixth, 1854, and my father was Viscount of Summerfield for ten years and three months before he died and I became a viscount. I’ve been viscount for nine years and nine months.”
Marjorie gave a light laugh. “George adores being very specific about nearly everything.”
George smiled sheepishly and nodded, his pale cheeks flushing with the compliment.
“Hello,” a female voice called—an American female voice.
Katherine turned to see Claudia leading Graham toward them.
“Isn’t it a glorious day?” she asked. “I’d heard that England was nothing but dreary rain and cold mists.”
Despite herself, Katherine laughed, keeping her eyes carefully averted from Graham’s steady gaze. She did wish he would stop looking at her with such . . . intensity. “I’d heard the same. But I do believe we’re seeing England at its best. I’ve heard that August and September can be far less wet than other months. Isn’t that so, Marjorie?”
“July and August are the driest months—” Marjorie stayed her brother, who was no doubt about to go into a lengthy and detailed account of England�
��s weather, with a gentle touch to his wrist. Katherine wondered if this was some sort of signal the two had contrived to keep George from rattling off facts and figures.
“Miss Von Haupt, if you don’t mind, I’d like to show Miss Wright the lake,” Graham said. “We were there yesterday and I’d hate to bore you with the same speech.”
Claudia’s smile was just a bit hesitant, but she nodded and released his arm. Katherine had no choice but to follow Graham a bit farther down the path, especially when Marjorie gave her a small nudge in his direction.
When they were away from the others, Katherine said, “What are you thinking? It’s bad enough that you smile at me constantly, fueling rumors that you have been enchanted by me and our wedding is inevitable, but to drag me off alone is really too much.”
Graham raised one eyebrow and looked at the small party, not thirty yards from where they stood. Huffing, Katherine crossed her arms and turned toward the lake. “This lake smells odd,” she said.
“The Haverslys perfume it.”
Katherine turned to him, startled. “They what?”
“They perfume it. It usually has a rather unpleasant odor. Perhaps because of the dragon arum that grows along the shore.”
“Dragon arum?”
“A plant that smells like a corpse.”
Katherine wrinkled her nose.
“You look lovely,” he said.
“And you should not say such things to me when your fiancée is a mere few feet away.”
“You have been misinformed. Miss Von Haupt is not my fiancée. I am aware that it is her mother’s grandest wish that there be a marriage between us, and thus far I have not gainsaid her. However, we are not engaged.”
Katherine looked up at him, slightly surprised, and an unexpected and unwanted feeling of hope bloomed in her heart.
“Claudia has been rather free with information about the betrothal negotiations.”
“In which I have had no part. I’m aware that the father is willing to pay an outrageous dowry, but only because Claudia let that information slip,” he said, stressing the word slip.
“One million pounds is an awful lot of money,” Katherine said.
“Yes, it is,” he said shortly. “And I will probably take it. But I see no reason to suffer unnecessarily by depriving myself of your pleasant company in the meantime. I should like to take you over there”—he nodded with his head to a secluded, shadowy glade—“and kiss you silly.”
Katherine’s eyes widened with horror, tinged by delight. “Graham,” she whispered harshly, desperately trying not to smile. “You are insane.”
“I am aware of that fact.” He then made a big show of pointing to the glade as if he’d seen something fascinating, then began walking toward the secluded spot.
“Graham, no,” Katherine said, even as she took a step to follow him. She felt that same pull she’d felt in Brighton, that nearly overwhelming need to be with him, to have an adventure, to do something she would never, ever do under normal circumstances. Had he truly enchanted her with his smile?
It was a lovely spot, sun-drenched and surrounded by trees and brush, and completely cut off from the rest of their group. She tried to look through the trees, but she could see nothing but the blue waters of the lake. Then she turned toward him. He stood five paces away, staring at her with a look of pure relief—which was much the same way she felt. Before she could even think of protesting, she was in his arms and he was kissing her with a hunger that was stunning. Goodness, it felt wonderful to be in his arms.
His mouth was warm and firm and tasted slightly of mint. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue with a moan, feeling as if she never wanted to stop this madness that had come over her. His hands moved down her back, stopping when he reached her buttocks, then pulling her tightly against him so that she felt his arousal. A now-familiar liquid heat melted through her, settling with a surge between her legs. This was so dangerous. So wonderful. He felt so good in her arms, solid and warm and strong. Like Gray, only better.
“God, I missed you,” he said between kisses. He brought his hands up to either side of her face and peered down at her, smiling. Of course, he would smile. “I hear them coming, so I only have time for one more ravishing kiss. Then we shall pretend we saw a fawn and its mother.”
He kissed her again, deeply and with frightening need, leaving her stunned.
“You look like you’ve just been kissed,” he said gruffly.
“So do you.”
He grinned and wiped a thumb across her bottom lip. Then he stepped back, leaving a more-than-proper distance between them as Marjorie and Claudia, trailed by George, came crashing through the woods and into the small glade.
“We just saw the most precious fawn,” Katherine gushed. “It still had its spots. We should have called you over, but I was afraid if we shouted, it would run away.”
Claudia looked quite disappointed that she’d missed such a sight, but Marjorie gave Katherine a look of pure skepticism. “Oh? What type of deer was it?”
Katherine shrugged. “I haven’t the slightest notion. But it was a bit larger than the deer back home and the mother’s coat was a bit red. Wasn’t it, Lord Avonleigh?”
“Quite so, Miss Wright. It was a red deer.”
Marjorie seemed slightly disappointed by their answers, and Katherine was thrilled she’d taken the time to read up on England’s natural history. Katherine waved a gnat away from her face. “I think I’ve had enough traipsing about the woods, however. Shall we return to the picnic?”
She led the way, the small party trailing behind her, and Katherine overheard Claudia say, “I do wish I’d seen the fawn, too, my lord. Perhaps we can return tomorrow and they’ll be back.”
Katherine didn’t overhear Graham’s answer, but she did wonder if the girl were as oblivious as she seemed. When they returned to the picnic, Katherine was rewarded with an answer.
“Mother,” Claudia called excitedly. “Miss Wright and Lord Avonleigh saw a fawn in the woods. How lucky!”
Mrs. Von Haupt immediately became alert and glared first at her daughter and then at Katherine. “Why didn’t you see the fawn?” she asked.
“Lord Avonleigh was showing me the lake and we saw the fawn and its mother in a small clearing and decided to investigate,” Katherine said evenly. She shouldn’t delight in Mrs. Von Haupt’s outrage, but she did.
“Really.” She gave Lord Avonleigh a sharp look.
“They really were a charming pair,” he said, sounding bored.
Mrs. Von Haupt seemed to relax, and Katherine and Marjorie excused themselves to return to their own blanket. Their mothers were nowhere in sight, and Katherine assumed they’d gone back to the house. Katherine was just beginning to think she’d gotten away with her adventure when Marjorie said, “If you’d been caught, it would have been disastrous for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“You would have been compromised, and Lord Avonleigh would be forced to marry you,” Marjorie whispered. “It’s all fun until something horrid like that happens.”
“Perhaps I shall make it happen, then,” Katherine said, laughing. “Being married to Lord Avonleigh wouldn’t be so horrible, would it?”
Marjorie looked shocked, and Katherine laughed again. “My goodness, Marjorie, I am only jesting. I would never do something so rash. I want Lord Avonleigh to marry whomever he pleases. And since I fully plan to return to America, he is safe from me. Truly.” That “truly” was a bit of a lie, but Katherine could not let Marjorie know she might be falling in love with him.
“I do like you, Katherine, but you have no idea what it is like to have that kind of responsibility, to have a title under your care, people who depend upon you. To come from a prestigious family and need to uphold that name and its honor. I think I may have given you the wrong impression when I supported your plan to worry the Von Haupts. I never thought you would . . .” She paused and looked uncomfortable, and Katherine realized Marjorie wa
s truly horrified by the thought they might have been kissing. And Katherine should be horrified by her actions, but strangely found she was not. “It is bad enough Lord Avonleigh is being forced to consider marrying out of his class because of finances, but to be forced into such a marriage because of scandal would be purely awful.”
Katherine was slightly stunned by her friend’s speech. “I think you’ve just insulted me,” she said, trying to push down the familiar hurt of not being accepted. Her family was on the fringes of New York society, something she knew her mother was trying to fix by garnering a title for her daughter.
“Please don’t misunderstand, Katherine. I think you’re a wonderful girl. But you’re not English. You weren’t born here.”
“Ah. My blood isn’t quite blue enough.”
Marjorie looked miserable. “That’s not what I meant. Oh, perhaps it is what I meant. But I certainly didn’t mean to hurt you, merely to explain why such an event would be considered a tragedy. I don’t think you truly understand the consequences of being compromised. Just being alone with him was scandalous. And if you were . . . doing something . . . then he would have no choice but to offer for you.” She stopped, flushing even redder.
“Would it still be a tragedy if Lord Avonleigh decided of his own will to marry me?”
Marjorie giggled. “Not nearly so awful.” Then she added, “Please don’t be angry with me.”
Katherine sighed. “I’m not.” Marjorie gave her a look of skepticism. “Perhaps a small bit, but I shall endeavor to forgive you for your cruel honesty.”
Marjorie pouted a bit, which made Katherine laugh. But it still bothered her that Marjorie would think her capable of trapping Graham—and that such an event would be considered a “tragedy.”
Chapter 8
Breakfast that morning was a simple affair. The Haverslys’ excellent staff had put out various dishes on a large, elaborate buffet, and replenished them with fresh food whenever something became depleted.
“General Lawton is staring at you again, Mother,” Katherine said beneath her breath. “Perhaps you should remind the gentleman you are married. He seems to have attached himself to you ever since Brighton.”