Sarah Elliott
Page 8
“Are you ready, m’dear?”
Kate turned around to smile at Mary. They were preparing to leave for the Bannisters’ country estate, Peshley, where the wedding would be held. Every guest had been invited to spend the week there with promises of beautiful autumn weather and prime hunting.
Kate was dressed. She was packed. And still she didn’t feel quite ready to depart.
“I suppose.”
“Well, you couldn’t look lovelier. Your brother, on the other hand, is a sorry case this morning. Humph. He was out all hours last night.”
“Yes—it was his last night out on the town as a bachelor. Apparently his friends wanted to toast him on the way out.”
“It was disgraceful, whatever it was. You should have seen him, stumbling home. Drunk as a loon, he was, and smelling like a distillery. Don’t think he would have made it home at all if it weren’t for his friend helping him…oh, what’s his name—you know, dear, that terribly handsome one with the golden hair?”
“Be—” Kate began to answer, but caught herself in time. She fixed her maid with a fulminating glare. “Mary! Are you trying to trick me?”
“Trick you? Heavens, no,” she avowed as she began to whisk about the room, tidying up as she moved. “I only asked a simple question.”
Kate sighed. Mary was never simple. Sharp as a tack was more like it. “His name, as if you’ve really forgotten, is Benjamin Sinclair. But he may not be the man you refer to because he isn’t necessarily all that handsome. Only slightly.”
“Only slightly? I see. And here I thought he was the gentleman you’ve been sighing about all season. It must be I who is mistaken.”
“Sighing? Ladies do not sigh, Mary, especially this lady. And even if I did, I wouldn’t do it over him.”
“Oh, of course. D’you suppose Lord Sinclair will be at Peshley this week?”
Kate had been dwelling on that thought almost obsessively, but lied through her teeth. “I haven’t been supposing anything at all about the matter. But, yes, now that you mention it, he probably will be there. He’s one of Robert’s best friends, after all, even though he’s been pretty scarce lately.”
“Maybe he’s avoiding you.”
“I don’t think so. He’d actually have to think about me in order to avoid me. It’s not avoidance—it’s total disregard.”
“And you haven’t been thinking about him, either?”
“On occasion, yes, but in the main, no.”
Mary, of course, could see right through her. “It might make you feel a little better to know that he hasn’t even been in town for the past few months. He’s been in Hampshire to visit his father.”
Kate could only stare dumbfounded for a moment. “Mary, how on earth do you know all these things?”
“Oh, I heard it from Mr. Perch, who heard it from Dolly, the upstairs maid. She heard it from Lord Sinclair’s driver, one Mr. Winters. He’s sweet on her.”
Kate nearly burst out laughing. “Mary, if the British government only knew what a gem they had in you, our problems with Napoleon would never have started. You’re a fount of information.”
“Yes, well, if I had known that this information would have cheered you up so much, I would have told you when I first heard it—I had only thought, perhaps, that you were trying not to think about Lord Sinclair.”
“You mean I wasn’t thinking about him.”
“Yes, of course that’s what I meant.”
Kate sighed and turned around in her seat at the dressing table. She wasn’t quite sure how to take the news about Ben. On one hand, she was relieved to learn that he had been out of town—that meant that he hadn’t necessarily been avoiding her. But it also hurt a bit to learn this news from someone else, and to learn it so long after the fact. Her response was illogical. She should be pleased that he’d forgotten her. Yet she felt disappointment and, yes, embarrassment, at the fact that she had to be told by her maid. He’d occupied her every thought, but she clearly hadn’t had the same effect on him.
Kate took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders and looked hard at her reflection in the mirror one more time. She normally paid little heed to her appearance, but had to admit that she was looking well. She was wearing a pale green riding habit, and her auburn hair had lightened over the course of the summer, becoming streaked with blond. Tiny amethyst earrings matched her eyes to perfection. Simple, but very becoming.
A new resolve began to set in, and she smiled for the first time that day.
Benjamin Sinclair can rot, she thought. I’ll make him remember me.
“Well, Mary, I think I finally am ready. Shall we proceed?”
The ride to Peshley took about a day and a half and was fairly uneventful. Both Kate and Robert rode outside most of the way—she enjoying the fresh air and feeling optimistic for the first time in weeks, and he simply too hungover to sit inside the bouncy carriage. They spent the evening at an inn along the way, and Kate was back to her sunny self, teasing her brother unmercifully for his overindulgence the previous night, and entertaining the small party with stories and jokes.
The next day began with a slight drizzle. They left the inn early and arrived at the Bannisters’ estate around ten. Kate was awestruck by the loveliness of their home. Peshley was an ancient manse built of crumbling silver stone—quite picturesque, really. As they made their way up the drive, they passed acres upon acres of rolling lawns, dense woods and misty lakes. She trotted up to Owens—her fast friend ever since that fateful evening—and promised to catch him a large trout in appreciation for his faithful service. He chuckled in surprise.
“Will wonders never cease! So you’re a fisherman as well, Miss Sutcliff? Or would that be a fisherlady?”
“Don’t you make fun, now, Owens. We take our fishing very seriously in this family. I’ll catch you ten trout with one hand tied behind my back!” Kate grinned impishly as she halted her horse in front of the house and dismounted. She breathed deeply, loving the crispness of the country air. It felt wonderful to be away from London, and she began to muse on whether it was actually the city air, and not a certain gentleman, that was responsible for her recent ennui.
Before she could ponder this too long, however, Charlotte came bursting out the front door to welcome them, looking rather harried. She made a beeline toward Kate.
“Kate, darling, I’m so glad to see you! But I have to warn you, there’s a lot to do before the rest of the guests show up later this afternoon and I’ll need your help! I hope that everyone arrives in time for a riding party—do you think the weather will improve? Oh, I do hope so—I wanted to have supper served outside.”
Kate grinned at this barrage. “Slow down, Charlotte! My goodness. Worry about one thing at a time, please. Just tell me what I can do to help.”
“Would you mind telling the head groom to plan to have the horses ready at three? You passed the stables on the way—it’s just a brief walk—a lovely walk, really, and it’s hardly raining now.”
Kate blinked. When she had offered to help, she’d assumed that Charlotte would suggest she go calm down her mother, or something along those lines. Not trudge down to the stables to converse with the head groom. Surely the Bannisters had servants to do that sort of thing.
All told, however, she didn’t mind. The servants were probably busy, and she’d prefer the stables to talking to Lady Tyndale any day.
“All right. I think a walk would be nice.”
Charlotte hugged her gratefully. “You’re such a dear. I’ll show Mary where to direct your things.”
And with that, both Charlotte and Mary were gone. Kate thought their heads were bent a bit close, as if some secret were being passed, but shrugged it off as her imagination; she was a little tired from the ride, and perhaps she was seeing things.
She began to walk briskly toward the stables, her optimistic outlook unfazed. She still felt fairly invincible. Her long legs and the spring in her step brought her quickly to her destination.
&nbs
p; Kate had always felt particularly comfortable around horses. She loved the earthy smells and the sounds of a stable: the soft nickering, the crunching of hay. As she entered the barn, she paused so her eyes could adjust to the dark. A large bay stuck his head out of his door to greet her.
“Well hello, prince. I’m sorry I haven’t any treats for you. I didn’t have time to get any.” She rubbed his slender nose, admiring the stallion’s fine lines and glossy coat. “But I promise I’ll bring you a carrot when I come back later.”
“He’ll love you forever for that.”
Oh, God. Kate knew that voice as well as if she heard it every day, which she certainly did not. She turned slowly, skin tingling, heart racing, trying to locate that steely resolve of which she’d recently been so proud. She needed something witty to say, some smart retort…
“What?”
Well, that was certainly clever.
Ben stepped out from the shadows, reaching his hand out so the horse could sniff his palm. “Food’s the way to this one’s heart. But he’s dreadfully disloyal…he’ll follow just about anyone who’s willing to feed him.”
“He’s yours?”
Ben nodded. “His name’s Hubert.”
She stared at him blankly, and then burst into laughter. Shocked at her rudeness, she quickly stifled it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s a rather unusual name for a horse, is all.”
“It’s a bloody awful name, is what it is. Laugh all you please.”
“Then why don’t you change it?”
“Can’t. You see, I won Hubert in a wager I made with Fred Northing a few years back. One of the conditions to winning was that Fred got to pick out the name.”
“What was the wager about?”
Ben didn’t answer, just grinned wickedly, a teasing sparkle in his eyes. Clearly the answer to her question was not meant for a young lady’s ears and must therefore be left up to her imagination. Unfortunately, Kate had a rather vivid imagination, and she blushed accordingly.
God, he was dangerous to her composure. His blond hair was windblown and his cravat loosened, and she supposed he’d just come from a bruising ride. Just looking at him made her short of breath—she’d thought he was devastating in formal wear, but he was even more so in his snug riding breeches and Hessian boots. Even his scent made her weak. He was standing too close, so close she fancied she could feel his heat…unless it was the heat of her own indecent thoughts. She stepped back to put more distance between them, fumbling for a way to direct the subject away from lovemaking and safely back to horses.
“I should like to ride him.” Oh, you stupid, stupid girl.
“Should you?” Ben raised an elegant eyebrow as he deftly made innuendo out of her innocent words.
She wasn’t exactly certain what he was talking about, but she’d spent enough time eavesdropping about her father’s boatyard as a child to have a pretty good idea. She could have died on the spot and not cared, was actually rather praying that a stray bolt of lightning would strike her down. But having no such luck, Kate stared at the wall, suddenly fascinated by each crack, by every mote of dust. She watched a fly struggle in a spider’s web and tried not to read any symbolism as the spider slowly moved in for the kill.
But then God intervened after all.
“Kate—my little lambkin! So wonderful to see you! Charlotte said I’d find you here. My, my, how well you’re looking…quite the little woman, aren’t you? A bit plumper than when I last saw you in town, hmm?” Charlotte’s mother, the Countess of Tyndale, came bursting into the stable: red, round and never a more welcome sight.
“It’s wonderful to see you as well, Lady Tyndale, and I’m fine. I trust you’re acquainted with Lord Benjamin Sinclair?”
She squinted at Ben in the darkness, frowning as she did so. “Hmm. Yes. Although I do not know that this is where he ought to be. Lord Sinclair, do you belong here unescorted with this young lady?”
“Madam, I am innocent. I was minding my own business when Miss Sutcliff came traipsing along, and lingered with her only because I saw you ambling down the path. I figured I might as well put both my arms to good use and escort you two ladies to the house for lunch. Shall we?” He held out his arms, giving Lady Tyndale his most devastating smile. She quivered like a jelly.
“Why, aren’t you a nice young man. You know,” she said, turning to him with her most confidential whisper, “I never believed what they said about you.”
“No?” It was Ben’s turn to whisper. “You should believe them, madam. I’m quite wicked.”
Lady Tyndale gasped, but Kate could swear she’d never seen the woman look more delighted. He’d completely charmed her without even trying, and she had to admit she was more than a little charmed herself.
As the trio wended their way up the path toward the house, one woman on each of Ben’s arms, Kate suddenly remembered that she had never spoken to the head groom. She momentarily considered returning to the stables to complete her errand, but it occurred to her that there was no point. Recalling that conspiratorial glance Charlotte had given Mary, Kate realized that the Bannisters’ groom knew quite well when he was to prepare the horses. No, Charlotte had sent her to the stables knowing that Ben would be there already. She was at it again.
Chapter Nine
Dinner was served on the lawn, and the linen-draped tables, so heavily laden with food and drink, promised a decadent feast. Kate stood along the edge of the terrace, gazing across the lawn to the lake, golden in the setting sun. She hadn’t seen Ben yet that evening. He’d gone along on the hunt that afternoon, but the pace had been such and the people so many that they hadn’t had an opportunity to speak. She wasn’t sure that he would have spoken to her anyway, given his pattern of flirting with her outrageously and then ignoring her completely.
“You look serene,” Philip Bannister observed as he moved up behind her. “Admiring the view?”
Actually, Kate had been imagining a violent and inexplicable tidal wave sweeping up the lawn, scattering all the guests, save one; she smiled, envisioning Benjamin Sinclair riding the crest of a muddy wave all the way back to London.
“Tradition has it that the fish in that lake are magic.”
Kate continued to smile and turned toward Philip. “Magic? Why is that?”
“Well, if you catch a fish from that lake and throw it back, whatever you wish for will come true.”
“Do you believe it?” she asked, knowing what the answer would be. Philip was far too pragmatic to believe in such stories.
“No. Anyway, I’ve never so much as seen a fish in that lake—don’t think there are any. Though I guess that means it would have to be magic for someone to catch one.”
“I plan to try tomorrow.”
“What will you wish for if you catch one?”
Kate felt suddenly uncomfortable under his intense gaze. “I never throw fish back. According to my tradition, that’s bad luck.”
He threw back his head and laughed loudly, causing several people to look their way, smiling at the happy couple. She inwardly cringed. She couldn’t help but feel somewhat annoyed, knowing that her name was attached to Philip’s. The ton expected them to announce their betrothal any day, and he, too, had been acting as if it were fait accompli. Because his intentions were so well-known, most other potential suitors had backed off, leaving him as her sole prospect.
Kate suppressed these thoughts with all her might, however, knowing that she must accept her fate. Philip would propose, maybe that night, maybe the next, and she would say yes.
“Come. Let’s have a seat,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and guiding her to a table where several of his acquaintances were seated. Kate knew them all: nice enough sorts, but boring. There were only two seats left, one at each end of the table—in an act of unprecedented and probably not to be repeated informality, Lady Tyndale had eschewed a seating arrangement. Kate sat at the end closest to the house, fancying that she’d be the first to saf
ety if the blasted wave ever materialized. She didn’t really care for the women seated around her—Melissa Cheswick was a simpering fool and the heavyset Myrna Peters was a society autocrat and notorious gossip. Kate looked longingly across the terrace to the table where her brother and Charlotte were seated, laughing and seemingly having a brilliant time. She knew that, much as she would have liked it, she couldn’t sit there. In the first place, Robert merely tolerated Philip—they were hardly what one would call fast friends. In the second place, that was where Ben was most likely to sit.
“…scandalous, isn’t it?”
Kate, who hadn’t been minding the conversation around her one bit, asked Myrna to repeat herself.
“I said Sarah Thomas is being scandalous as usual. The way she carries on, just because her husband is so old he doesn’t even notice her affairs. Just look at her,” Myrna said, pointing indiscreetly over Kate’s shoulder. Kate couldn’t look without turning her head completely, so she just nodded, pretending that she knew exactly what Myrna was talking about and silently vowing that she would look as soon as she got the chance.
That chance came sooner rather than later.
“Here they come! Nobody look,” Melissa squealed, practically leaping from her seat and causing her long-suffering husband to roll his eyes heavenward and pat her condescendingly on the hand.
Kate, for one, looked straightaway, having no idea what could possibly cause such unconcealed excitement. And there was Sarah Thomas, all right, and Benjamin Sinclair, walking together down the path from the house.
“Do you think she’s his mistress?” Melissa whispered.
“Don’t be vulgar, Melissa. And anyway, I’ve heard that that one doesn’t even keep mistresses, like a respectable chap. Prefers more variety than that.”
Kate was listening intently now. She watched the way Sarah delicately rested her hand in the crook of Ben’s arm, just as she had herself earlier that day, feeling like a queen because he’d paid attention to her. Sarah was quite pretty, she supposed, if one were attracted to the petite, blond sort of the fluffy female variety. Sarah was the kind of girl who tittered instead of laughed, and Kate disliked her in an instant. Ben, however, was smiling broadly, his head inclined to hear whatever nonsense she uttered. He seemed to be enjoying himself just fine.