“Can I help you into the saddle?” he asked, his voice lowering considerably as his slate eyes darkened to a deeper gray.
She nodded, quite sure that if she opened her mouth, she would accomplish nothing beyond a croak.
Peter gazed at her and she wondered for a moment if he would lean down and kiss her, but he seemed frozen in place. His hands tightened a fraction and his thumbs began drawing circles where they rested just under her ribs. She could feel her breath quicken and realized that the pleasant swirling within her was what butterflies were supposed to feel like.
Suddenly the air left her lungs as Peter threw her up into the saddle. She scrambled to get her legs into position and arrange her skirts. He was beside her seconds later, his face a tight smile but his eyes stormy. No doubt he had gotten carried away in the moment. Her own smile felt strained and she was glad when he turned to lead the way. The quicker she could get out of his presence the better; she needed to get her wits about her.
She was not entirely certain, but it seemed possible that she could very well be falling in love with Sir Peter Evans.
30
Kate
“How is Miss Smithson?” Kate questioned Emily after she had changed out of her riding habit and into a gown of dark mauve with burgundy trim. Her wardrobe was growing exceedingly more enjoyable with the new gowns.
“The same, I gather. The doctor came and left, and he believes it to be influenza.”
“Oh dear, I do hope no one else catches it,” Kate said. She was nearly positive no one else would catch the illness, for she was almost certain Miss Smithson was being poisoned somehow. But Emily didn’t believe her anyway, so she’d rather not discuss it with her friend. “I should like to check on her,” she said instead.
“Mrs. Smithson is guarding her room like a French gargoyle.” Emily rolled her eyes, plopping herself onto the edge of Kate’s bed and watching her fix her hair in the looking glass. “She will not admit anyone to the room who is not essential.”
“Well, I suppose that is a kindness to those of us who do not wish to be ill.”
“Poppycock,” Emily said. “She is just controlling.”
“What makes you say that?” Kate turned on the chair, half of her hair still falling down her back.
“Have you not watched her? She approves or denies Miss Smithson’s every move. It is not nearly so bad with Annie, as far as I have seen. But with Miss Smithson, the mother is clearly in charge.”
Kate mulled over Mrs. Smithson’s control. The woman seemed to hover constantly over her daughters, it was true, sharing her opinions whether they were desired or not. It did not appear in any way related unless Mrs. Smithson was the one poisoning her daughter, but that seemed altogether ridiculous.
She finished putting up her hair and followed Emily down to the drawing room where the guests had gathered for games. Peter was already seated at a table for whist with Miss Annie, Lord Cohen and Lord Aniston; Miss Annie appeared delighted. Mr. Evans approached Kate and requested a game of draughts, which she graciously granted.
Kate needed to determine a way to extricate herself from Mr. Evans’s expectations. But it could wait. It would not do to be rude to one’s host.
She caught Peter’s eye as she sat down to draughts, but he turned quickly back to his hand of cards, laughing at something Miss Annie had said. Of course, he laughed a little too loudly, but Kate was certain the others hadn’t noticed. She felt disappointment that he did not acknowledge her further, but then again, if the way he threw her up into the saddle to put space between them was any indication, he was not interested in her. Or if he was, he felt strongly that he shouldn’t be.
“How was your ride this morning?” Mr. Evans asked.
Kate was startled and wondered how much he knew of her morning. “It was enlightening,” she said. “Did I tell you I am planting an orchard?”
“I heard as much.” Mr. Evans gazed at her intently before moving a piece on the board.
“The trees are in,” she explained, hoping the change of subject would seem natural. “I am quite excited for their development.”
“Right,” Mr. Evans said, giving her an odd look. “Did my brother enjoy looking at your trees as well?”
There was an insinuation in his tone that caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand up. She needed to tread carefully, for this was how rumors began. “He and Lord Cohen, as well as Emily were all happy to see the orchard.” She spoke down to the board as she made her move. Raising her face, she offered him a tight smile. “I would love to show you as well, Mr. Evans.”
He picked up a black piece and spun it in his fingers. She was watching to see where he’d move it and instead felt his gaze boring into her. Mr. Evans placed the piece on the board with a snap and leaned back in his chair, his demeanor softening to a breezy, carefree attitude that she was fairly sure she could see through. There was something more at stake here, though she did not know what it was.
“Have you thought back on that day often, Miss Kingston? I hope I am not bringing up a sore subject, but I cannot let another day pass without mentioning it. What you did for me when we were children was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me at that point in my life. I have never forgotten it, and I need you to know you were a sensitive and sympathetic influence in my life. A lasting influence.”
Kate swallowed, uncomfortable by the level tone of his voice and his hard eyes—as though he was doing his utmost to retain control of his emotion. She wondered if anyone else in the busy room noticed the shift in their conversation but doubted it. The rest of the party was occupied by card games and conversation.
“I have thought about it many times,” she said. “Though if I am being completely honest, it was a very disagreeable day for me, and I long to forget it.”
“I understand,” Mr. Evans said plainly. “I commend your innate kindness, Kate.”
She was startled at his use of her given name but tried not to show it. It felt like he was building up for something, and she had the sudden panic-inducing thought that he was about to propose.
Sighing, he continued. “It could not have been easy to choose to protect me then, and it certainly cannot be easy now. I have noticed that you are on reasonably friendly terms with Peter, and I applaud your capacity for forgiveness.”
She hesitated, noting the shift in Mr. Evans’s demeanor. A warning tightened her chest, and she swallowed. “I am afraid I do not follow.”
The look of innocence was so strong on his face that Kate found herself focusing on that instead of what he was saying. “Of course, a man can change a lot in over ten years, but after the experience we shared in the woods so long ago, it is amazing to me that you were able to so easily overlook Peter’s character and the way he treated you.”
Kate’s body went cold and she found herself unable to move. The blood drained from her face, her mouth dry. The way he had treated her? That could only mean one thing. Peter was one of the savage boys—the one who’d held her back. A flash of memory flicked through her mind of the boys running away in search of Martin and the minion’s sorrowful, blue-gray gaze holding hers before he’d followed Charles.
She sought Peter out, finding his gaze trained firmly on her, his steel-blue eyes unyielding, brows drawn together in concern. Her heart rebelled against his anxious expression.
Swallowing a sandy lump, she stood, surprised her feet could hold her up. “If you would excuse me,” she muttered, certain Mr. Evans had no idea what she had said before she fled from the room.
Peter
Peter muttered a curse under his breath and tossed his cards on the table. He’d watched Kate and Martin the entire time they sat together, positive that Martin was brewing something. The look in his sharp eye was one he often got before pulling some sort of prank. Charles and Peter had often picked on Martin as children, but Martin got them back every time. It was never in the same brute manner the older brothers relied on, but Martin was intelligent and clever,
and he had found ways to go around them and use their father to get even. Of course, according to Father, Charles could do no wrong, so Peter had ended up enduring the bulk of the punishment.
“Excuse me,” Peter said as he jumped up and walked swiftly out the door, hoping to avoid Martin’s line of vision. He saw dark skirts swish at the top of the stairs, and some level of relief hit him that Kate had chosen to retreat to her room within Evanslea instead of leaving completely. He had the feeling that if she would have gone back home, well and truly left him, there would be nothing he could say to her. As it stood now, she could not have given up entirely.
It was with a small grain of hope that he took the stairs two at a time and caught up to her just before she reached her own door.
“Kate!” he called. He could tell she recognized his voice from the way her body stilled, her hand pausing just before it reached the doorknob. “Please.” He was unsure what he was asking for, but he knew he needed to beg.
She did not face him, but she dropped her hand. He would take anything he could get. “Please tell me what Martin said that bothered you so much.”
“I have a feeling you already know.” Her voice was flat, void of emotion. That was not a good sign.
He’d done it. Blast Martin—why did he have to tell Kate before Peter could? He regarded her closely, wishing she could see into his heart, could see the depth of his remorse.
“Then can you understand why I feared telling you myself?”
She turned her head slightly toward him, and his heart quickened at the pain in her profile.
He implored her with his gaze. “I did not realize you were that girl until after we had become acquainted.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. Was it in frustration or to block tears? His heart ached at the possibility. “It is what you were trying to tell me this morning, was it not? In my uncle’s study.”
“In your study, yes.” Somehow the distinction mattered. “I have been waiting for the right time.”
She turned, and he held his breath.
“Did you not think that perhaps ten years had eased the memory of that day?” Kate asked. “That an apology from your lips would earn you forgiveness immediately?”
“Even after I admitted to being the foolish boy who chased you down, gave you that scar” —his fingertips grazed the faint line that ran through her eyebrow, causing a shiver to shake her shoulders— “and held you back while my brother threatened you?”
She nodded, and he felt more the fool. His shame mounted as his gaze raked her face, drinking in the strength of character and compassion. But he had remained quiet for too long, had held the secret too close to his heart. He opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words, panicking as Kate’s eyes grew hard.
“Do not worry, Sir Peter. I forgave that boy long ago. But this man” —she gestured to him— “ought to have come clean, ought to have realized I would not hold youthful follies against you.” She went to leave but then stopped, her voice lowering. “You know, perhaps we were on to something earlier. I suppose I really am a terrible judge of character after all.”
With this parting shot, and unmistakable pain lacing her eyes, Kate turned from him and quietly let herself into her room. He was positive she would release her pent-up emotions, and he wanted to be by her side, holding her and wiping away her tears. But he had ruined everything. There was a time for pursuing and a time for retreat, and Peter realized that for now, he needed to withdraw.
31
Kate
Kate’s eyes were red and sore by the time Emily came to find her an hour later. She had cried a good deal of sorrow and felt deflated and empty by the end.
“Goodness me!” Emily screeched, shutting the door behind her and running to Kate’s side. “Whatever has happened?”
Kate let out a hiccup and then sighed. “I am overreacting, naturally. I cannot help but feel embarrassed and angry.”
Emily searched her face and Kate screwed her eyes closed again as a warm tear rolled down her cheek.
“I met Mr. Evans a long, long time ago when I lived here as a girl. I did not realize until today that I had also met Sir Peter.” She paused and ran a finger down her faint scar. “Of course, now I feel foolish for not making the connection earlier. Of course he was the bully from that day. And Sir Peter even told me of his older brother’s passing. Still, I did not realize.”
“Perhaps you did not want to,” Emily supplied gently. “Was it so very bad?”
Kate looked into her friend’s compassionate eyes and nodded. “For a nine-year-old girl, it was traumatizing. I forgave him long ago, for Mrs. Presley helped me to see that by holding on to my hatred I was only hurting myself. But that does not change—”
“No, it doesn’t. Sir Peter had many opportunities to tell you,” Emily said reasonably.
“But he did not.”
“Undoubtedly,” Emily agreed. “Though, if you had acted badly as a child and met the person you had wronged a decade later, would you not want to get to know them as you are now, and not with the tainted memory of the past?”
This was not what Kate wanted to hear. She wanted Emily to be as outraged as she, to rant and rail against Peter’s character and poor choices. She did not want to admit that there was a great deal of truth to Emily’s words. Rubbing her eyes with the heels of her hands, Kate sat up and looked Emily in the eye. “But that does not mean I have to be happy about it.”
“No one would expect you to be. How did you find out, anyhow?”
“Mr. Evans spoke about it. He acted as if he assumed that I already knew, but there was something not quite right about his demeanor. I have a feeling he enjoyed revealing the information.”
Emily muttered something under her breath. Kate raised an eyebrow, and Emily cast her eyes to the ceiling. “You really aren’t very bright sometimes, are you?”
Kate would be offended had it come from anyone else, but she knew Emily to be teasing. “Just spell it out for me.”
“Mr. Evans was probably feeling threatened by Sir Peter. It is quite obvious that they are both taken with you.”
Kate shook her head. “Mr. Evans has been trying to court me. Sir Peter is only my friend.”
“Perhaps you are more than that to him, though.”
Kate stood and leaned against the window, sapped of energy and motivation. The day had turned stormy, reflecting her mood.
“Are you going to forgive him?” Emily asked.
“I already have,” Kate said softly. She took a long, shuddering breath. “But that does not mean I have to run out there and be in charity with him. I am a woman; it is my divine right to hold this against him as long as I want to.” She tried to smile, realizing she was being irrational, but finding she did not care.
“Perhaps,” Emily conceded. “But take it from someone who learned the hard way through the last few years of marriage, you also have it in your power to relieve his suffering. And which course of action do you think will make you feel better?”
Duly chastised, Kate sighed. “Either way, it can wait until after tea. I am sure we are late as it is.”
“Indeed, that was the reason I was sent to fetch you.”
They arrived last to the drawing room, and Kate was disappointed to find Peter and his friends all absent. She supposed she had brought that upon herself. Of course he wouldn’t wish to share her table after she had said such a hurtful thing. She was suddenly overcome with a wave of regret. She caught Mr. Evans’s eye and he gave her a commiserating smile. She wanted to grin and show him that his words had not affected her. But that would not be true.
Instead, she turned to Miss Annie, who sat on the other side of Mr. Kettlewell. “Do forgive my rudeness for speaking over you, Mr. Kettlewell, but I was hoping to hear good news about Miss Smithson.”
Miss Annie wiped her mouth with a napkin and shook her head. “I am afraid she is very much the same.”
Kate nodded and went back to her tea. She didn’t thin
k she was unpleasant to be around, exactly, but she was introspective, and the other guests seemed to sense it and left her largely to her own musings. The rest of the day passed slowly, and it was not until that evening following dinner that Mrs. Gressle asked Mr. Evans about the lords’ absence.
“I am afraid they had some business to take care of. Or that was the excuse I received.” He shrugged. “I am not sure when to expect them back.”
Mrs. Gressle took this as a personal affront and bid the group goodnight, dragging poor Miss Juniper upstairs with her. It wasn’t until she overheard the Kettlewells discussing the probable cancellation of the ball due to Miss Smithson’s illness that Miss Annie stood to leave as well. Kate bid the group a quick goodnight and followed her into the corridor, hailing her on the stairs.
“I was hoping to inquire about Miss Smithson,” she explained. “Earlier was the wrong time to ask for you could hardly go into any detail surrounded by all the guests.”
“I am afraid there isn’t much to say. Dr. Styles came again today. He thinks it must be influenza for how long it has lasted. The symptoms do not indicate anything else.”
“Who is caring for her?”
“Our maid. And my mother sits in with her almost always.” Miss Annie sighed, and Kate thought of Emily’s comments about their controlling mother.
“Any strange visitors?” Kate asked as they reached the top of the stairs. This question earned her an odd look, and she said, “I’m just curious who else has been exposed.”
“Well, there’s the kitchen maid and sometimes the footman who brings her meals. But everyone else is kept out of the room. Even me.”
“That is wise,” Kate said. “You do not want to catch her illness.”
Miss Annie shrugged and walked the opposite way to her bedroom. Kate waited until she had disappeared inside to go back downstairs. She did not stop there, however, but kept going down to the kitchens. A soft glow lit the fireplace and a round woman sat at the long table, sipping a cup of tea. She moved to stand when she noticed Kate, but then stopped at Kate’s upraised hands.
A Forgiving Heart Page 21