“Wildflowers?” asked Lady Mable. “You must have your gardener cut them down straight away or they’ll take over, mark my words. They’re nothing more than weeds to spoil the lot.”
“I could never do such a thing, though I thank you for your advice,” said George, sipping the last of his tea. “I’m very fond of wildflowers.”
Katherine dipped her head to sip her tea as well to avoid the heated gaze she felt from across the table.
“And after your tour of the gardens,” said Jude, “I’ll lead those who are more adventurous in a ride about the grounds.”
Penelope plopped down next to her mother with a pile of food on her plate. Her voluminous skirts whooshed when she sat. “I’ve always thought riding a rather vulgar pastime for a lady. Don’t you agree, Marjorie?”
“Of course,” she agreed in her mousy voice.
Penelope had seen Katherine riding along Rotten Row in Hyde Park many times. Gentlemen would often stop and stare with admiration as she galloped up the lane. Katherine was masterful on horseback.
“I would love to go riding, Mr. Delacroix,” said Katherine, tired of Penelope’s antics and thoroughly happy she would stay behind. She had to, now that she’d deemed it vulgar for a lady.
“Wonderful. It’s settled, then,” said Jude, sitting next to Penelope with a plate as high as hers. He gave a sidelong glance at her plate, paused, arched a brow, then dove into his own.
“I hope we will not be deprived of our host, Lord Thornton,” said Jane. “I’m sure you know the grounds better than anyone.”
“I will join you, of course,” he said with nod.
“And will you join us, Mr. Langley?” Katherine asked the quiet, genteel man eating his breakfast in silence. He was not the loquacious gentlemen she’d seen last night across the table with Jane. She would be having a tête-á-tête with Jane as soon as they were alone.
“I’d be delighted,” he replied.
“Where is Mr. Parsons?” interjected Penelope, seemingly anxious to change the subject since it didn’t include her. “He was so delightful at dinner last night, regaling us with his adventures in Spain.”
Jude piped up. “I believe he was regaling long into the night in the gentlemen’s parlor till there was little left to regale about.”
Jude took a jab at the man without remorse. George frowned at his friend, who seemed to care very little.
“He asked for breakfast to be sent up this morning,” added George. “I’m sure he’ll join us for the riding tour of the grounds later.”
“I’m sure,” agreed Jude.
Katherine did not miss the small wink Jude shot to George. She wondered how long they’d been friends, for they seemed to know one another as well as brothers. She also longed to know what confessions had taken place between them about her. After last night’s dinner with Jude and after her heated interaction with George, she wanted Jude alone now more than ever to discuss what exactly George’s intentions were in regards to her. Was he expecting a lover for a night or a week? Could she accept such an offer? Her blood raced wildly at the mere thought of his lips on her skin.
“Are you all right?” asked Jane next to her. “You’re a bit flushed.”
“Am I?” She pushed away from her plate and stood. The gentlemen at the table immediately stood with her. “I need a little air. Pardon me.”
“So do I,” said Jane. “We’ll join you all in the gardens, Lord Thornton.”
Katherine left without a glance at the man who made her blush shamefully without saying or doing a thing. His mere presence was enough.
They waited on the veranda for the others, both of them in thoughtful silence for several minutes.
“So, tell me about Mr. Langley,” said Katherine.
“What? There is nothing to tell.”
Katherine laughed. “You are a poor liar, Jane. There is certainly something to tell.”
She sighed heavily. “Oh, very well. Henry—”
“Henry?” Katherine raised her brows.
“Stop it. Mr. Langley and I were acquainted when we were very young. Our fathers were good friends. On occasion, he would come to the house, and we played together as children. Then the time came for me to have a governess and for him to go off to Eton.”
Jane brushed the folds of her day dress, smoothing wrinkles where there were none.
“Go on,” urged Katherine.
“There’s not much more to tell. I saw him at a ball my first Season, three years ago. We danced. We talked. Then he went back to Oxford, then to Italy, and I never heard from him again.”
“Until last night here at Thornton, and at dinner where you were both steeped in serious conversation. What did you two talk about last night?”
Jane’s pretty countenance glowed with contentment. “Architecture. Beauty. Art.”
“Good heavens. Are you in love?”
“Please, Katherine. Hardly.”
Katherine laughed again. “Now who’s blushing?”
Jane said nothing more as the voices of the others drew closer.
George strolled through the back door onto the veranda, with Penelope and Marjorie on his heels, Lady Mable and the Langleys not far behind.
“Oh, a maze!” squealed Penelope. “I simply adore mazes, Lord Thornton. What fun! Will we get lost?”
His piercing gaze held Katherine’s as he passed, rendering her breathless as he sauntered on with Marjorie and Penelope on either side. Katherine had taken a place beside Mrs. Langley. Mr. Langley strode alongside Jane behind them. Lady Mable took up the rear.
“I have heard in history that a lady or two has become lost in the maze,” said George.
Penelope took George’s arm without him offering it. He was forced to play the gentleman and crook his elbow to cover her faux pas. “How thrilling! Did you hear that, Mama?” she called back.
“Yes, dear,” replied her mother. “I believe I will rest on this shady bench while you all take the tour,” said Lady Mable, huffing and puffing already.
“If you pass straight along this path and don’t venture directly into the maze, there is a treasure at the end.” Simply the sound of his voice—steady and sure—lured Katherine to him.
“A treasure?” asked Marjorie, giggling. “What kind?”
“You shall see.”
They strolled along the path and finally came out to an open clearing. A lovely trellis arch stood beside a fountain, where they all gathered. A Grecian sculpture of a nude goddess occupied the center, her hair trailing down her body, her arms outstretched, the water streaming over her and down into the clam shell at her bare feet, where it spilled over into the fountain.
“Venus,” said Katherine quietly.
George broke free of Penelope’s grasp as he turned. “That is correct, Lady Katherine. Do you know much Greek mythology?”
“A little. I have read a few books on the subject.”
He opened his mouth to say something else, then seemed to change his mind.
“This sculpture is of fine craftsmanship,” said Mr. Langley, stepping forward to examine it. “This was not done by an apprentice’s hand but a master’s.”
Jane watched Mr. Langley as he bent to examine it more closely. Katherine knew without a doubt, because of the expression on Jane’s face, that she was clearly smitten.
“You’re quite right, Langley. I brought this one home with me from France.”
“France?” Penelope jumped in as quickly as she could. “Oh, how I’ve longed to visit France. How long were you there, Lord Thornton?”
“Though I lived there for several years, I am pleased to be back in my home of England.” With a surreptitious glance at Katherine, he led them on through the trellis, which extended into a tunnel with a woven vine canopy overhead. Late summer had finally given way to early autumn, the tips of the lea
ves curling with burnt orange and gold.
“But where is this treasure?” asked Marjorie, her mousy voice squeaking.
Katherine had thought this a beautiful, peaceful place in the garden. That alone was a treasure to her, a haven where one could hide from the world and forget one’s cares.
“If you’ll follow me,” said George. “Watch your step.”
There was a tranquility about this place that kept all of them quiet until the trellis tunnel opened up to a white gazebo. George turned at the step and helped each lady up. Katherine was last. She lingered, allowing him to hold her gloved hand longer. She wished for the second time this morning that they were alone.
“Oh my.” Mrs. Langley spoke first. “So beautiful, Lord Thornton.”
His gaze remained transfixed on Katherine. “Yes. I believe so.” Then he moved to the center of the gazebo.
Katherine understood why there were so many gasps of admiration when she stood at the rail and looked out at a seemingly endless park of green with a lovely dappling of elm, ash, and beech trees. One hickory stood proudly above all the rest.
“It is so lovely,” said Penelope. “I could wake up to such a view every day of my life and never tire of it. Wouldn’t you agree, Marjorie?”
“Most definitely. Never tired at all.”
If Penelope could have done so without utterly destroying every rule of propriety, it was clear she would throw herself at his feet and beg him to marry her. Her constant suggestions that she would just adore to live here were plucking at Katherine’s nerves.
“Absolutely stunning,” gushed Penelope. “And now, you must show me the maze, Lord Thornton. And please stay close, for I could easily lose my way.”
They’d barely stepped up to this divine view and already Penelope was ready to leave without taking a second glance. Somehow, that didn’t surprise Katherine at all.
The others lingered a minute or two, then followed the retreating, yammering voice of Penelope.
“Katherine, aren’t you coming?” asked Jane.
Dragging herself away from this little piece of paradise, she agreed with one thing Penelope said. She could wake up here every day of her life and never tire of it.
“Yes, Jane.” They strolled back through the trellis tunnel. Mr. Langley stayed at Jane’s side, a quiet partner for the sightseeing. “You know, I believe I’ll go straight on to the house.”
“Are you sure you don’t want a walk through the maze?”
Penelope squealed with delight for some unknown reason.
Katherine raised one brow. “I’m quite sure.” She needed a break from the annoying Miss Greene, and she wanted to be sure her riding habit was perfect for Lord Thornton. She quickened her step, realizing she would be galloping over those lovely hills with him at her side. Without Penelope.
Chapter Thirteen
Maggie made double sure that every button was perfectly aligned and every draping of her mistress’s dark green cashmere riding habit folded just right. The skirt rose a few inches above the normal hemline and without the petticoats, Katherine had much more mobility. Her long black boots ensured no skin could be seen at the hem. Her sleeves were slit on the underside for flexibility of her arms. And even with the short, snug jacket buttoned to her neckline and the black riding hat with an ostrich plume crowning her ensemble, she felt more comfortable in this than in anything else she owned.
“Don’t forget your gloves, milady.” Maggie held out her black leather riding gloves.
“Thank you, Maggie.” Katherine took them from her, reminding herself to be calm. “I’m not sure what I would do without you. We may be gone for a while, so why don’t you get some rest this afternoon before I’ll need to dress for dinner.”
“Thank you, milady.” She dipped a curtsy as Katherine left through the connecting door to Jane’s room with her crop under her arm. But Jane was nowhere to be found.
She made her way down the stairs, pulling on her black leather gloves, anxious to go for a ride. She turned toward the back veranda first, to see if the others were still in the gardens. There was no sign of anyone, except for two walking in the shade near a row of trees beyond the manicured hedge. There was no mistaking the honey-brown hair of her dearest friend walking alongside the tall figure of Mr. Langley.
“Dear Jane.”
She sighed a happy sigh, realizing her friend might have finally found a match worthy of her. The thought brought her supreme joy but also a pang of regret. She was tethered to Clyde, and no manner of dreaming would change her sad fate. Weary of waiting any longer, she sought out the stables as she used to do as a girl when anxiety had taken hold of her. Her father had tried to rid her of the habit of frolicking around the stables, where no proper young lady should be. It had never worked.
Katherine glanced around warily, finding no sign of the dreadful Penelope. One place George’s admirer would certainly not be was the stables. And that’s exactly where Katherine hoped to find him. She would steal what happiness she could while there was happiness to be stolen.
Two beautiful chestnuts were saddled and ready in the open courtyard, but no one else seemed to be around. She ventured into the stables and heard the soft shuffling of feet on hay.
“Hello?”
A skinny boy popped out from a stall. “Pardon me, milady. I thought you might be the master.” He glanced around nervously. “Don’t fret. I realize I’m not supposed to be here. But I won’t tell if you won’t,” she said with a conspiratorial smile.
His bony shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Daniel is m’ name, milady.”
“I’m Lady Katherine,” she said, closing the distance.
“I can bring your horse to the courtyard, milady, if you’d like to wait.”
Katherine felt a pang of guilt for putting the boy out of sorts, but the smell of hay and horse called to her, calming her nerves and reminding her of her pleasant childhood when she had no worries. A horse whickered from the stall where Daniel stood in the open door.
“May I?” she asked, gesturing toward the stall.
He glanced at her fancy riding habit and her shoes then assessed the floor inside the stall.
“I think it’s safe enough, milady. I just put down fresh hay.”
He turned back to the stall where he was working. Katherine smiled and followed, adoring the boy’s candid free spirit. When she walked into the stall, she halted. He had been saddling a pristine palomino with a long white mane and tail.
“Pretty, ain’t she?”
“Very pretty.”
Katherine stepped closer, removed her glove and ran her hand down the mare’s nose. She whickered and snuffed Katherine’s hand. As her father had taught her, Katherine let the horse smell her while she gently stroked her golden neck.
“Such a pretty girl,” cooed Katherine. “Is she one for the ride today?”
“Of course, milady. She’s yours.”
“Mine?”
“That’s what Lord Thornton told me. He ’pressly said, ‘She is Lady Katherine’s mount only, and she can come and ride ’er anytime she wants.’ Lord Thornton doesn’t say a lot, miss, but what ’e does, ’e means for true.”
Katherine swallowed at the realization that George had set such a beautiful mare aside for her exclusive use. “What’s her name?”
“Angel. She sure looks like one, don’t she?”
“Indeed she does. Tell me, Daniel. Do you like working for Lord Thornton?”
“Ah, yeah. I was right attached to the former earl, but the new Lord Thornton, well, ’e’s good to me. I ’alf thought I’d be thrown out when the old earl died.”
“Why is that?” she asked, continuing to stroke the mare. Her eyelids drooped when Katherine rubbed her on the white star at her forehead.
“I’m an orphan, you see, and well, now look at me. I’m ’ead of the stables. No on
e young as me gets a job like that with an earl. But ’e kept me on, treats me good. Even if there’s somethin’ a little odd ’bout the new earl, I like ’im.”
“Odd?” Katherine paused. Angel whickered again and nudged her. She continued to stroke. “How so?”
“He sends messages at all hours of the night, gets visitors like this French bloke.”
“Mr. Delacroix?”
“Yeah.” Daniel bent over to buckle the girth. “’e came in the dead of night, tearing up the drive like a wild animal. I thought ’e might have some trouble with the earl, but when I checked the next day, Mrs. Baxter said all was right as rain.”
“How interesting.”
“That’s what I thought. There’s somethin’ odd ’bout Mr. Delacroix too.”
“Is there?” Daniel straightened and whispered, “’e’s not really French.”
Now Katherine was riveted. “What do you mean?”
“Or if ’e is, then ’e’s not all French. You see, I’ve ’eard him talkin’ like a Scot too. Sounded like a Highlander I knew once. And not like ’e was puttin’ on airs and foolin’ round. The two o’ them was in the stables one night, thought I was already to bed, but I was cleanin’ me tools in the back. They’d been out on a long ride all over the property I was told. At night, which was also strange. They was in a serious discussion ’bout some bloke with a weird name…Demus…Damus, somethin’ like that. Never ’eard of the likes of ’im before.”
Katherine didn’t know what to think. Scottish accent? Parading around the grounds in the dark? A chill ran up her spine as she considered the two might be in league with some criminal sort. Perhaps they were criminals themselves. Her pulse pounded at the thought of giving her heart to such a man. After all, what did she truly know about him? About as much as she’d known about Clyde before she made the fatal mistake of giving him everything dear to her.
“Do you like her?” came a familiar, steady voice behind them.
She spun with a gasp. “Geo—Lord Thornton! You gave me a fright.”
“My apologies. Thank you, Daniel. That will be all.”
The Deepest Well Page 11