The kiss they’d shared had been incomparable. Just like her. He’d been hoping to get a good sleep but not now; he’d be tossing and turning all night, and probably for many nights to come. Because one thing he was certain of, Kate would never let him kiss her again.
St. Stephen’s Church, Fenwick, Cumbria
Christmas Day, 1812
“Katie, if you could spare a moment ...”
Kate paused beneath an ancient yew tree in the churchyard of St. Stephen’s and glanced up at her brother from beneath the felt brim of her dark blue bonnet. Snowflakes danced in the air between them. “Of course.”
Violet, who was on Freddie’s arm, smiled at her shyly. “We’ve been thinking about you and all that you’ve been through over the past few days. Anthony,” she threw a baleful look over her shoulder to where her brother stood beneath the church’s portico, talking with Uncle Harold and the vicar after the service, “he was an absolute toad to have dragged you away from the house party at Hollystone Hall. We know how much your charity means to you, and if you think you can endure another journey, we would be happy to take you there in our carriage.”
Freddie nodded then winced; courtesy of Lord Stanton, he was sporting a swollen split lip and there was a sizeable bruise on one cheek. Kate also suspected his injured shoulder gave him grief given the way he held his arm so gingerly against his side.
“If we leave tomorrow we should be there in time for the charity subscription ball on New Year’s Eve,” he said and grimaced again as he adjusted the position of his left arm. “I shall pay for the tickets for all of us so you needn’t worry about that. I’m sure you’ll be able to shore up some support for The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel during the night. Even if it’s just to engage the Duchess of Haverford’s public nod of approval for your cause.”
Warmth flooded Kate’s heart. The duchess’s support would indeed go a long way to repairing any damage Lady Stanton might have done. “Thank you. Both of you. I must confess, I’d all but given up on the idea of attending. But if you would do that for me, I would be most grateful. And you know, I think it would be beneficial if you were to be presented to the duchess as Mr. and Mrs. Woodville. It might help to quell any gossip. Not that there’s likely to be any, but you never know ...”
Violet’s brow lowered into a deep frown. “I’m quite worried how Mama will take the news. If we could just secure Anthony’s support ...”
Kate touched her arm. “I think your brother will warm to the idea of your marriage in time. It was quite a shock to find out you’d eloped.”
Freddie’s mouth flattened. “I’m still fuming about Stanton’s cavalier treatment of you, Katie. How hypocritical of him to be worried about Violet being ruined when that’s exactly what he did to you!”
“Shhh.” Kate looked back toward the small group on the portico. Most of the villagers attending the Christmas Day church service had moved on, but still, one couldn’t be too careful. “I have not been ruined. How many times do I need to say that? No one knows about my unconventional trip here with Lord Stanton, and the events of last night, except Uncle Harold and you two. And if we just keep it that way, it will all blow over.”
Freddie snorted. “If I didn’t despise the man so much I’d insist he make an offer for you, Katie.”
Violet’s eyes lit up and she clapped her ands together. “Oh, that would be wonderful. Anthony would make a most excellent husband for you, Kate. He really is very sweet beneath all his scowls.”
Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry, Violet. Please do not take it as personal slight, but I do not wish to marry your brother, or indeed, anyone. Certainly not a man who has been coerced into marrying me.” She arched an eyebrow as she looked at Freddie. “I could think of nothing worse.”
Violet leaned her head against Freddie’s shoulder and Kate couldn’t help but envy their happiness just a little. “Oh, Kate, you are missing out on so much. But I understand your reluctance to wed unless it is a love-match. I really do.”
Freddie gave Violet a little squeeze. “There is much to recommend marriage under the right circumstances.”
The right circumstances. Nothing was right about the circumstances surrounding her and Lord Stanton. He might have kissed her, but it didn’t really mean anything. It only happened because they’d both imbibed too much wine and they’d succumbed to the impulse to follow a silly Christmas tradition.
Although nothing about that kiss had felt silly. Or inconsequential. If Lord Stanton cared for her ... Or even loved her ... Kate mentally shook her head. Good heavens, she must still be feeling the effects of the wassail punch to be entertaining such ludicrous thoughts. Lord Stanton had barely regarded her all morning.
He was clearly regretting their kiss and wanted nothing more to do with her, especially after her tirade last night. Not that he didn’t deserve a decent scolding for attacking Freddie.
Freddie and Violet broke into her thoughts as they bid her adieu, then arm-in-arm, made their way to their waiting carriage beyond the lychgate. Kate had shared a carriage with her uncle whilst Lord Stanton had walked the mile and a half to the church on his own. Her gaze wandered back to the portico, which was a mistake; Lord Stanton was looking directly at her, and despite the bitter cold of the morning, her face grew warm beneath the weight of his somber stare.
She dare not contemplate what he was thinking.
Turning away, Kate followed the gritted path toward the graveyard for something to do whilst she waited for Uncle Harold to finish conversing with the vicar. Neither of her parents were buried here at St. Stephen’s in the Woodville family plot. They’d both passed away in London.
She missed her mother and her strength. She wondered what she would advise her to do in this situation. Harden her heart and continue along the lonely path of independent spinsterhood or look for love in life? She’d never believed in the idea of true love before, but seeing Freddie and Violet together and their incandescent happiness, it made her wonder if she should be more open-hearted in the future. Frivolous mistake or not, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, Lord Stanton’s kiss had awakened a side of her she never knew existed. Made her foolishly dream about love. About having a family of her own. And children ...
“Miss Woodville.”
Kate started and turned to find Lord Stanton close by. “My lord,” she said stiffly but added nothing else. She had no idea why he should want to speak with her.
He looked tired as if he hadn’t slept in a week. There were dark circles beneath his gray eyes and his wide mouth was set in a grim line. Kate shivered. Whatever he was about to tell her couldn’t be good. But when he didn’t say anything at all and the tense silence continued, Kate prompted, “I don’t suppose you wanted to wish me a Merry Christmas again ...”
He gave a small huff at that. “My apologies. I don’t feel particularly merry this morning.” He glanced away, over her shoulder toward the graves before his gaze returned to hers. “I wanted to apologize to you. For last night. I had too much to drink and my manners deserted me. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was wrong. And I’m sorry. If you agree, I think we should both forget it ever happened.”
Kate fought to keep her expression neutral even as the sharp prick of rejection pierced her heart. Which was quite absurd because hadn’t she been trying to tell herself the very same thing, last night and all this morning?
She drew in a steadying breath, praying her voice wouldn’t quiver. “Yes,” she said, attempting to plaster a polite smile on her face, “I agree. Let us forget all about it. It meant nothing. Nothing at all.”
Lord Stanton inclined his head. “Thank you ... As I said last night, you are remarkable.”
And then he turned on his booted heel and walked away.
Oh. Kate gripped the nearest headstone as a blast of regret hit her. Why did he have to go and say that? For one mad moment, it made her think that perhaps she’d somehow got everything wrong.
But as Lord Stanton�
��s tall, rigid form disappeared behind the hedge abutting the lychgate, her sensible, ever-practical side told her that she hadn’t. He might have bestowed another compliment, but he was just trying to soothe the sting of his ungallant behavior.
Wasn’t he?
Chapter 11
Hollystone Hall, Buckinghamshire
New Year’s Eve, 1812
“I hope this bedroom meets with your approval, Miss Woodville.” Cedrica Grenford, the Duchess of Haverford’s niece and personal secretary, regarded Kate expectantly over the top of her spectacles. “And I must say, the duchess is very pleased you could attend her house party even though it is nearing the end.”
“I’m delighted to hear that, Miss Grenford,” replied Kate as she glanced about the small but comfortable looking room with its floral chintz curtains, delicate cherrywood furniture, and cheerful fire. “This will do just nicely.”
“Excellent. It is actually most fortunate that you have arrived only today. Until recently, Hollystone Hall was full to overflowing, but with the departure of a few of the duchess’s guests, we have been able to accommodate you, your brother, and sister-in-law quite easily.” The secretary gave a shy smile and color bloomed across her cheeks. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I think they are rather pleased to have one of the estate cottages all to themselves. How romantic to think they had a Yuletide wedding in the Lake District. It seems to be the season for proposals and weddings.”
“Yes, it was very romantic,” agreed Kate. Thank heavens the story they’d all agreed upon—that Freddie had proposed to Violet in London on the eve of the journey to Hollystone, and that Kate and Lord Stanton had gone with them to Cumbria so they might wed by special license in Fenwick House’s small private chapel—was being taken at face value. So far. Hopefully no one had asked why Lady Stanton had not accompanied them.
Miss Grenford was looking at her expectantly again so Kate continued, “And we are most grateful that the duchess has been so accommodating at the last minute. Now, about payment for the tickets to the ball for myself, my brother, and his new wife—”
Miss Grenford beamed. “Oh, it has all been taken care of.”
“It has?” Kate frowned. How odd.
“Yes. Lord Stanton paid for them. He arrived yesterday and settled everything.”
“Oh. Oh, right. Yes, of course.” Kate hadn’t known Lord Stanton would be here. He’d left Fenwick House early on St. Stephen’s Day without a word to anyone, including Violet, which had caused her great pain. But given his stepmother was quite possibly still a guest at Hollystone Hall, it really should have occurred to Kate that he would return. What she hadn’t expected was such a kind gesture from him; she wondered what it meant. “This may seem like a peculiar question, but is Lady Stanton still here?”
To her credit, Miss Grenford didn’t even blink. “Yes she is, Miss Woodville. Do you wish to speak with her? I believe she’s in the drawing room with some of the other ladies of the party. I would be happy to show you—”
“No, no, it is quite all right. I have traveled a fair distance over the past week or so and I think I might have a rest before I begin to prepare for the ball.”
Miss Grenford inclined her head. “I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but I have noticed you do not have a maid to assist you. If you need anything to be done—your clothing pressed, or assistance with your toilette—please do not hesitate to ring and I shall organize for one of the duchess’s maids to help you straightaway.”
Kate smiled, touched by the young woman’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.”
Miss Grenford took her leave and Kate opened her traveling trunk and began to rummage through her things. She needed to decide what to wear to the charity ball. It had to be something that would make a good impression on the duchess. It seemed like so long ago that she’d first met Her Grace at Mrs. Marlowe’s Book Emporium in London, and she wondered if the duchess even remembered her. If Her Grace did, hopefully she hadn’t been labeled as ‘that unreliable woman who hadn’t arrived when she’d said she would’. Kate hadn’t yet had the opportunity to greet Her Grace this afternoon either; the duchess had been caught up with other hosting duties.
In the end, Kate decided she would have to choose between the sea green gown she had worn to the masquerade at Vauxhall, and her brand new gown of white silk gauze over white satin; trimmed with tiny bows and ribbon rosettes around the scooped neckline and on the puffed sleeves, it was both delicately pretty and elegant. And a little daring.
Holding each dress up against herself in turn, Kate examined her reflection in the looking glass and decided the white gown would do even if the cut of the bodice was rather revealing—at least by her standards. She didn’t think Lady Stanton would remember she’d worn the green gown in August at Vauxhall as the woman had barely regarded her that night, however, it wouldn’t hurt to wear something new, all the same.
She dare not think the white gown might attract Lord Stanton’s attention ...
Telling herself she was a fool to let her thoughts drift in that direction, she took up Miss Grenford’s offer of assistance and rang for a maid to press her gown. Then she drew the curtains, pulled off her half-boots, and lay down upon the soft bed. She was so very exhausted. The night ahead was sure to be eventful and she’d need to marshal her wits and whatever charm she might possess if she were to successfully advocate for funds for expanding the school program, and to cover the cost of the remaining repairs at White Church House.
If only she knew what Lady Stanton had been up to in her absence. At least Miss Grenford had not looked askance at her, or worse, treated her with disdain; as the Duchess of Haverford’s assistant, surely she would be party to any gossip flying about. So perhaps Kate was starting at shadows.
She supposed she would find out, tonight.
Kate was just drifting off to sleep when a light knock at the door made her start. If it was Freddie, she’d give him a piece of her mind for disturbing her rest. But when she opened the door, her truculent mood dissolved as quickly as a sugar lump in hot coffee. “Tessa,” she cried, drawing her friend inside before embracing her warmly. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m so thrilled you’ve arrived at last, my dearest Kate.” Tessa beamed at her as she claimed the fireside chair and Kate sat on the bed. “And to answer your question, I must confess that after Christmas, I felt more than a trifle guilty I’d all but coerced you into attending the duchess’s house party with only Freddie to support you. I realized I wanted to help you raise funds for the Benevolent Society too. So I persuaded Christopher and my aunt, Lady Salter, to accompany me. Thank heavens, the duchess didn’t seem bothered about our late arrival.”
“Oh, Tessa, thank you. I know how you dislike events like this. But I’m so very happy you are here.” Kate was genuinely relieved she now had another ally, someone who would be able to help her fend off any untoward attacks by Lady Stanton to discredit her personally, and their cause.
“But where have you been?” asked Tessa, her brown eyes shining with curiosity. “Christopher and I arrived two days ago, expecting to find you and Freddie here. But then we heard via Lady Stanton that you had all repaired to Lord Stanton’s Oxfordshire estate, Ashcombe Park, with the viscount and his sister. She was rather vague on the details though ...”
“Oh, Tessa, you have no idea.” Kate filled her friend in on every detail of her wild journey to Cumbria, even the part about her encounter with Lord Stanton beneath the mistletoe ... and his odd reaction the following day in the churchyard on Christmas morning. And how she’d just heard from Miss Grenford that he’d unexpectedly purchased the charity ball tickets for all of them. “I honestly don’t know what to make of it all.”
“Perhaps ... Do you think Lord Stanton might actually care for you?” ventured Tessa.
“What? No! He couldn’t possibly. He was cold and distant and annoyingly bombastic throughout the entire trip. He’s so arrogant, I’m
sure he’s never felt tenderness—let alone a single ounce of romantic love—for anyone in his entire life.”
“Except he did come to your aid at the inn in Cheshire. And he kept you warm in the carriage, and said you were remarkable. And he kissed you ...” Tessa’s eyes gleamed with fond amusement. “He doesn’t sound all that indifferent to me.”
Kate’s cheeks grew terribly hot. “We both had too much to drink that night. The kiss, it meant nothing to him. He wants to forget about it.”
“And what about you, Kate? Do you want to forget it ever happened? Did it mean nothing to you too?”
“I ... I don’t know how I feel.” Kate plucked at the silk counterpane to avoid her friend’s gaze. “He confuses me.” Which was the truth. How could she possibly fall in love with Lord Stanton? It would be beyond foolish because a man like him would never feel the same way about her. He was an esteemed viscount and she ... she was but a lowly teacher. A woman with a stained family history. A woman of no consequence.
When she didn’t say anything else, Tessa added, “Well, at any rate, I’m rather looking forward to seeing what happens tonight at the ball. I’ll make sure Christopher asks you to dance. It will be interesting to see Lord Stanton’s reaction when another handsome viscount whisks you around the ballroom floor.”
“Ha,” Kate waved a dismissive hand, “I’m certain Lord Stanton will not pay me the slightest bit of regard let alone give a fig about who I dance with. No offense to your brother of course.”
“Hmmm, will shall see, my dear friend.” Tessa gave her another knowing smile. “We shall see.”
“Katie, you look wonderful.” Freddie’s smile was wide as she opened the door to her room and he took in her appearance.
“Thank you,” she said patting her hair. Tessa’s maid had kindly arranged it into an elaborately piled-up confection of curls—she swore she had more pins stuck in her head than a hedgehog had spines—and for once, even she thought she looked rather elegant. She snatched up her matching fan and beaded reticule from a nearby chest of drawers and turned back to Freddie. “I also want to thank you for agreeing to escort me into the ball. I must confess, I’m a trifle nervous. I haven’t even seen Her Grace yet.” Kate peered past her brother’s broad, superfine clad shoulder into the hallway. “Where is Violet?”
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