by Amelia Grey
“Angels are men, Penny,” Melba corrected tightly.
Penny huffed and jerked her hands to her slim hips. “They are not. Not all of them. Not the ones I’m talking about, anyway.”
“Never mind that, you two,” Madeline said. “Tell us, Katherine, what did you talk about for so long?”
Katherine’s gaze had darted from one young lady to the other as each had a say and asked questions about her conversation with the earl without giving her time to respond to any of them. At thirty, Madeline was the tallest and oldest of all the ladies in the Wilted Tea Society, a group that she’d started three years ago. It wasn’t a large group, and the only criterion was that you couldn’t be betrothed or married. But it seemed few young ladies wanted to belong to a gathering that called themselves wilted tea.
Katherine, like all the current members, found humor in the name and enjoyed their weekly gatherings for tea, friendship, and the latest gossip. Each week they were given a sewing project to work on and bring back to the next meeting. When the group formed, Madeline had insisted they couldn’t meet just for their own enjoyment but must do something worthwhile for less fortunate people, too. So the ladies embroidered handkerchiefs or knitted shawls, mittens, or caps and once a week took them to an orphanage. Katherine had joined her first Season because of this. If not for having been born into a wealthy family, she could have been sent to an orphanage after her parents were killed.
Contrary to what most people thought, the ladies in the group hadn’t given up on their dreams of one day meeting a handsome prince, falling in love, and making a match. It was just that they were getting older and still unwed. Madeline had asked her to join. And Katherine soon found she had more in common with the slightly older ladies than the ones who, like her, were making their debut into Society.
“Well?” Madeline said. “Don’t just continue to stand there mute. What did the earl have to say?”
Katherine didn’t want to tell them what she and Lord Greyhawke had talked about. It was private, but it was also clear she wouldn’t leave the barricade they had formed in front of her until she gave them something to chew on.
“We didn’t talk very long,” she said, stalling for time so she could come up with something credible to say that wouldn’t be too far from the truth.
“Ha!” Penny exclaimed as her dark eyes widened. “I was counting the seconds. It must have been at least ten minutes.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Katherine told the petite lady with the shock of wild cinnamon-colored hair that she had tried to tame with pins, combs, and flowers. “It couldn’t have been more than five, if even that long.”
“Just tell us what he wanted,” Melba insisted.
“Nothing,” Katherine said with a shake of her head, feeling a prick of guilt about the prevarication. He had wanted something. To dance with her!
“What did he say?” Madeline asked again.
“Not much. It was just a simple conversation. We talked about the quadrille that was taking place.” Perhaps that stretched the truth a bit, too, but at this point she really wanted to settle this with as little fanfare as possible.
“Did he by chance mention me?” Penny asked expectantly. “I was on the dance floor.”
“No, I’m sorry, Penny. We didn’t talk about anyone specifically, but how lively the dancing was.”
“And?” Melba prompted, eagerly making a motion with her hands for Katherine to say more and to say it more quickly.
“And, well, let’s see … we talked about miracles.”
“Miracles?” all three ladies exclaimed in astonishment at the same time.
“You asked me and I’m telling you,” Katherine said, beginning to feel defensive.
“That’s the most preposterous thing you’ve said,” Melba squeaked.
“It’s true,” Katherine insisted.
“What kind of miracles?” inquired the smallest of the three young ladies.
“Who cares what kind, Penny?” Madeline said irritably. “It doesn’t matter about that. Katherine isn’t telling us anything that’s worth hearing. I have to admit, I was hoping for something a little more interesting than that.”
“I was hoping for something salacious or at least something bordering on scandalous,” Melba blurted out, and suddenly all four ladies were laughing.
“It wasn’t any of those things and all of you know it,” Katherine offered when their laughing subsided.
“Let’s be serious,” Penny said. “Did he say whether he would be staying in London now and attending the Season?”
“Or if he’s looking to make a match?” Melba questioned.
“Did he ask to call on you?”
“Or ask you to go for a ride in the park with him?”
Katherine gasped at the turn of the questions. “No, no, nothing like that, ladies. My goodness. We had just met. He wasn’t going to be telling me what his plans are.”
“Just tell us something he said,” Madeline argued.
“I’m sorry, perhaps one of you can get more information out of him. I’m afraid I failed miserably, but I—” Katherine stopped and smiled gratefully when she heard a faint ding-a-ling. “Oh, there’s the bell for dinner. I hope each of you is paired with an acceptable dinner partner. You all know that Auntie Lee will not accept any input from me no matter how hard I try. Now, I really must go. Uncle Willard will be waiting for me,” she said, holding firmly to her cane and hastily pushing her way between Melba and Penny without apology. “You know how perturbed he gets if I’m late to join him.”
“I was just coming to rescue you,” Aunt Leola said, easing up beside Katherine as she cleared the female blockade. “I could see your friends were wearing you to a frazzle.”
“Very much so.”
“They were quizzing you about the earl. Am I right?”
Katherine looked over at her tall, thin aunt, who always held her chin lifted in a regal tilt. “Yes, Auntie.” Katherine slowed her pace and added, “And I know you don’t ever ask a question that you don’t already know the answer to.”
“Thank you, dearie.” Auntie Lee’s eyes sparkled and she preened. “Of course you’re right, too. And you will be just as perceptive as I am one day, mark my words.”
Katherine thought of how she’d botched her conversation with Lord Greyhawke. “I shall count on that, Auntie, for I fear I haven’t developed that trait yet.”
Lady Leola, as most people called Katherine’s aunt, was lovely for her near sixty years, with wide-set eyes almost as green as Katherine’s. Her father’s sister had never been extravagant with her clothing, jewelry, or lifestyle. She’d never needed to be. She carried herself as if she were the most beautiful and most important person in the room, no matter how she was dressed or where she went. And Katherine knew that was how her Aunt Leola felt.
“So what did you tell your fluttering and chattering friends about the earl?”
“Nothing.”
“Perfect,” Auntie Lee said, giving Katherine another smile. “Ah, there’s Viscount Treadfield. I must give him the disappointing news that I couldn’t seat him beside the duke this evening because His Grace needs to talk to the lord mayor about a matter that will soon be coming up for a vote in Parliament. It’s not true, of course, but I can’t have anyone thinking they can tell me where they intend to sit at the duke’s dinner table. See you inside, dearie.”
Aunt Leola peeled away from Katherine as easily as she’d glided up beside her moments ago. Katherine shook her head, smiled, and kept walking.
Since the age of seven, Katherine had lived quietly with her elderly uncle the Duke of Quillsbury; his brother, her Uncle Willard; and their widowed sister, her Aunt Leola. Very quietly. Katherine had seldom had anyone her age to play with when she was young. On rare occasions, distant family members or friends would visit her uncle in whichever of his many houses they might be residing at the time, and they would bring children. But that didn’t happen often.
For a long time
after she went to live with her uncle, she found herself wanting to scream for no other reason than to hear some noise. Her aunt and uncles were quiet. The servants, tutors, and her maid were all quiet. Even the old clock that stood in the vestibule of the aged manor house chimed so softly that she couldn’t hear it unless she was standing in front of it.
Before the accident, Katherine had lived with her parents and three older siblings. Their house was never quiet until after bedtime and seldom then. Even at night, if she awakened, she might hear one of her siblings talking in their sleep or her governess snoring. But since the accident, there were too many nights to count when she lay awake in her bed wishing that she could hear the sounds of her sisters’ and her brother’s laughter and their voices just one more time.
So even though she couldn’t dance, would never dance, she loved coming to the parties and balls and watching others twirl and swirl so effortlessly around the dance floor. She embraced the packed rooms of people hustling and bustling about. The loud music, boisterous laughter, and hum of chatter invigorated her and reminded her that her goal was to marry and have many children laughing, playing, and running throughout the house. The only thing that had kept Katherine from that goal so far was finding a man she wanted to father the half-dozen children she intended to have. And she was working on a list of possible gentlemen so that she could accomplish that goal and keep her promise to her uncle Quillsbury that she would be betrothed by the end of the Season.
A glance toward the tall, arched double doors that led into the long, narrow dining room showed her uncle Willard waiting patiently for her. Lord Willard’s gray hair was thinning at his crown, and deep lines fanned the edges of his eyes, but he hadn’t lost his straight spine or noble, distinguished presence. He was several inches shorter and more slight of build than his elder brother the duke and much more cantankerous of late. The older he got, the more snappish he became. He’d spent most of his adult life in the military and was a stickler for discipline, expecting everyone to follow his command. Since she was a child, he’d been able to scold her with just a look, so she’d learned early never to be late for dinner.
She’d seldom seen Uncle Willard when she’d first come to live at the duke’s house. She’d spent most of her time in bed recovering from her injuries, and he was often gone on an assignment for the military. When she was older, she realized Uncle Willard actually enjoyed having her in the house when he was there, to read to him, play chess with him, or on rare occasions play the pianoforte for him in the evenings after dinner.
Whenever they had conversations, he never rebuked her for speaking her mind, and she never failed to be honest with him about whatever matter they might be discussing at the time. He had a brilliant mind, and many were the times she would have loved to engage him in discussions about his work as a military officer, politics, or even science. But he would have none of that. He thought such topics too unsavory for her. Literature, poetry, and music were the only safe subjects of conversation for young ladies as far as he was concerned.
Katherine was fairly certain the reason Uncle Willard had become so ornery over the past couple of years was that he’d begun to lose his hearing. It was almost impossible to carry on an extended conversation with him, which was also one of the reasons she always sat beside him at formal dinners. With her, he didn’t have to talk if he didn’t want to. He disliked trying to make conversation with anyone other than family in a room teeming with chatter, clinking glasses, and tinkling silverware.
Uncle Willard greeted her with a smile, no doubt because she was prompt, and she smiled, too, as she reached over and gave his clean-shaven cheek a kiss.
Waiting until he could see her lips move, she said, “Good evening, Uncle. Have you enjoyed the party so far?”
“Yes, my dear,” he expressed much too loudly. “It’s been quiet.” He paused and winked at her, then continued, “And somewhat pleasant. I’ve been able to avoid hearing anyone I didn’t want to talk to, but I haven’t heard a word of what was said to me from the ones I wanted to talk to. You’d think everyone would know by now that I can’t hear a bloody word they say and they’d speak up.”
Katherine knew everyone spoke very loudly to him, even though he didn’t know it. She was sad for him because his hearing loss continued to worsen and no doctor had been able to help him.
“I don’t think anyone realizes it, Uncle.”
“Well, they should. And how about you?” he asked. “How has your evening been?”
Without hesitation she answered, “Lovely as usual,” and caught sight of Madeline staring at her as she passed by to enter the dining room.
“I saw you talking to the new Earl of Greyhawke, my dear. What did you think of him?”
She supposed with a dinner party that had only thirty guests, everyone would see everything that happened. Still, for some reason she wished no one had witnessed her conversation with Lord Greyhawke. Everyone wanted to ask her about him, and though she didn’t really understand why, she was reluctant to share her conversation with the earl.
Guests were filing past them and entering the dining room. She would have to talk loudly for Uncle Willard, and she didn’t want anyone passing by to hear what she had to say, so she answered, “Perhaps we should talk about that tomorrow, Uncle. I think most everyone has been seated in the dining room.”
He looked around and nodded. “Very well.” He reached over and gently pinched her cheek affectionately. “That’s what we’ll do.”
His brief squeeze wasn’t her favorite show of fondness. She had always expected that one day he would understand that at twenty she was too old to have her cheek tweaked, but he was still doing it. She now had little hope he would ever stop. And she loved him too much to ever suggest it to him.
Uncle Willard extended his elbow. Katherine slipped her hand around the crook of his arm and he escorted her into the ornately decorated room. Tall, gilt-framed mirrors bracketed by brass candle sconces hung on each of the four walls. Two long, rectangular tables covered in fine white Irish linen had been set with the best crystal, china, and silver one could buy. The sides of both tables had fifteen small, armless chairs fitted tightly together. The duke always sat at the head of one table and Uncle Willard the other. Since both their wives had died, the places at the end of the tables were always left vacant.
Her uncle pulled out her chair and then turned to see Mrs. Isadora Henshawe waiting for him to help her be seated, too. Katherine heard him expel a low, exasperated sigh before greeting the lady. Mrs. Henshawe was a master at talking, and she seldom stopped for a breath. Uncle Willard would have to pretend he was having a lovely conversation with the lady by smiling, nodding, and occasionally shaking his head. Katherine doubted she would notice that he couldn’t hear.
Katherine picked up her napkin while guests continued to file into the room to find their seats. She’d been dining at the duke’s dinner parties for more than two years and long ago stopped wondering whom Aunt Leola would seat to her right. Katherine knew Uncle Willard wanted to be quiet and expected her to talk to whoever it was and not him.
Lady Leola handled all social events for the duke, including seating arrangements, and she wouldn’t accept suggestions from anyone. Auntie Lee also knew that Mrs. Henshawe would talk from the moment she sat down to the moment she left. It wouldn’t bother the widow at all that Uncle Willard wouldn’t be able to hear a word she said. She was quite happy to talk, if only to herself. He would be miserable, and she would be delighted.
Tomorrow at the breakfast table, Auntie Lee would listen quietly to Uncle Willard’s politely spoken words about her seating arrangements and then do exactly what she wanted to do at the next party. Katherine had seen very little change in the duke’s household the twelve years she had lived in it.
Katherine propped the handle of her plain wooden cane against the table to her right, where it would be easy for her to grasp if she needed to excuse herself to the retiring room, and then began taking off he
r gloves. A shadow slowly fell across the table beside her, and her hands stilled. Her dinner partner for the evening had arrived.
Somehow before she looked up, before she thought about glancing over at the place card, she knew the gentleman who had been seated beside her for the evening was the intriguing Earl of Greyhawke.
A shivery feeling skittered up Katherine’s back, and her heart started its wild, erratic beating again.
Chapter 7
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue.
—Love’s Labour’s Lost, act 5, scene 2
Slowly, Katherine turned to her right and looked up. The first thing she saw was a tapered waist and a wide chest that filled out a white shirt outlined by a beige quilted waistcoat. Her gaze continued upward, past straight, broad shoulders to a beautifully tied neckcloth and on to a slightly square chin. She paused briefly at the wide masculine lips before skimming past a narrow nose and high cheekbones that led her vision to those intriguing brandy-colored eyes that had held her spellbound earlier in the evening.
Katherine’s fast-beating heart felt as if it stumbled in her chest. A tingling sensation rippled across her breast and then floated slowly and deliciously all the way down to her toes. A teasing warmth settled low in her abdomen. There was no use trying to deny the potent power of his masculinity. She’d never been so intensely aware of a man and found she couldn’t look away from the eyes that seemed to have the capacity to see into the depths of her soul.
The Earl of Greyhawke was tall and powerfully built, but nothing about him looked like a beast. Nothing about him seemed scary, yet she sensed he was a danger to her sensibilities.
“Good evening, Miss Wright,” he said, pulling out his chair. “We meet again.”
The Earl of Greyhawke smiled down at her as he bent to fit his tall, muscular frame into the small chair. As he did, he accidentally knocked the table, sending her cane clattering to the floor. She immediately reached down to collect it, and while she was coming up, the back of her head bumped his chin as he was reaching down to pick up the cane.