Love and Honor: The Coltrane Saga, Book 7

by Patricia Hagan

  Colt laughed when Jade worried, saying that his father had told him that his mother had been the same way when she was younger. Kit was the spitting image of Kitty Wright Coltrane, and that wasn’t so bad, was it? Jade would reluctantly agree, thinking all the while that things had no doubt been different when his mother was young and growing up on a small farm in North Carolina. She much preferred her daughter to be more genteel.

  Jade had not wanted to leave New York nearly fourteen years ago to move to Spain. She had loved her life there, teaching ballet and dance in her very own, successful studio, enjoying her family, her church and charity work. It was flattering and exciting to be considered one of the city’s most respected society matrons. An invitation to a party at the palatial Coltrane mansion on Riverside Drive was almost as coveted as a weekend at their elegant home in the Catskills. In turn, she and Colt had been on the preferred guest list of every social function from New York to the White House.

  All things considered however, Colt’s being asked to accept the position of emissary to Spain was an honor too grand to even consider not accepting…even though the offer had come at a very sad time in all their lives.

  After months of smoldering tension, war had been declared between the United States and Spain. When President McKinley had persuaded Colt’s father, Travis, to come out of retirement in October of 1898 to serve as a special adviser during peace negotiations in Paris, the entire family had worried that the stress might be too much for him. Travis Coltrane had turned a deaf ear to their protests. He was a man of honor and dedication, and if he felt that his country needed him, he would be there to serve, as best he could. He did, however, request that his only son accompany him, and together the two had proven invaluable diplomats.

  Sadly, however, the family’s fears proved true. On the tenth day of December, 1898, the day the Treaty of Paris was signed, formally ending the war, Travis Coltrane succumbed to a fatal heart attack.

  It had been a difficult time for Colt, and Jade had felt that the assignment in Spain would help him get on with his life. She’d pushed aside her personal regrets over leaving because she loved him so.

  All had gone well. Colt was one of the most respected government emissaries in Spain. Their life had been pleasant enough, but as Kit grew older, Jade felt that if she couldn’t persuade her to go to finishing school, then they should consider moving back to New York for the social and educational advantages there. Kit disagreed vehemently, arguing that if Kit’s twin, Travis, could live in France with Grandma Kitty, then she should be able to enjoy Europe, too. Jade knew that was only an excuse. Kit just preferred riding and the outdoors to what she considered “boring girl things”.

  And as for John Travis living with his grandmother, well, Jade had reluctantly given in, with the understanding that he would live at home during the summer. He did, and they were all very close. Kitty was raising her other granddaughter, Marilee, alone. Marilee was actually Kitty’s step-granddaughter. A long time ago, in a dark part of Kitty and Travis’s lives, Travis had thought that Kitty was dead. He’d married a Kentucky lady named Marilee Barbeau who had died giving birth to their first and only child, Dani, Marilee’s mother.

  Jade swallowed the painful lump that still rose in her throat whenever she thought of Dani…dear, sweet, gentle Dani, who had married Jade’s close Russian friend Drakar Mikhailonov. Theirs had been a rare and special kind of love, shadowed only by Dani’s inability to carry a baby to term. Then, on the day her father had died, Dani had given birth to a beautiful and healthy baby girl…and joined her father in death.

  Jade had promised Dani that she would raise her child as her own, but Kitty had insisted, and who could deny her in her grief over losing Travis? Despite their clashes over Kit, Jade admitted to having deep affection and respect for her mother-in-law.

  As for Drakar, his wounded heart would never heal, for a part of him had died with his wife. He had returned to Russia to aid his lifelong friend, the Czar Nicholas, in troubled times. Though she seldom heard from him, Jade thought of him often, and fondly.

  A knock on the door chased away her painful memories. She saw with disappointment, however, that it was the servant girl, Carasia, and not Kit. “Well, did you find her? Have any of the servants seen her?”

  Carasia stared at the floor, picking nervously at her long peasant skirt, then admitted, “Si, I have found her, señora, but she said to tell you she cannot come now. She said she is sorry you will miss the train, but it cannot be helped, and she begs your forgiveness.”

  Jade’s eyes grew wide with disbelief. “You mean she refuses to come?”

  Carasia nodded and whispered, “Si.”

  “Well, exactly where is she?” Jade exploded.

  “In the stable. The mare the veterinario loaned to her is foaling…having mucho difficulty. Dr. Frazier could not be found, and Señorita Kit must deliver the colt herself, or the mare will die.”

  Jade fumed. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! I told her she had to take that horse back, that she had no business having it here.”

  Carasia’s chin lifted in loyalty to her mistress and friend. “Señorita Kit loves horses. She wants one badly for herself.”

  Jade regarded the girl coldly, not about to discuss personal matters with a servant. She brushed by her and hurried out of the house and down the path leading through a grove of lemon trees to the rustic barns. She recognized Julio, the young son of one of the servants, standing outside the open doors. His eyes were large with fear as he stepped out of her way.

  Jade started into the barn but turned at the sound of her name. It was the chauffeur, Muego, coming down the path toward her. He was supposed to be waiting in the front courtyard to drive them to the station in Colt’s new pride and joy, a sleek gold and black Alfonso. Built by Hispano Suiza in Barcelona, it was considered one of the finest and fastest cars on the road. But she cared nothing about the fancy car now, only the fact that Muego looked as agitated as she felt.

  “I heard about the mare foaling,” he said. “I doubt there will be time to make the train, but I’ll keep the car ready just the same.”

  “Do that,” Jade snapped, then hurried into the barn. She found Kit in one of the stalls at the rear. Her daughter was kneeling in the hay beside her borrowed mare, Belle. Wearing the denim trousers Jade detested and a worn flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, Kit looked as if Madrid festivities were the furthest thing from her mind.

  Jade’s hand flew to her mouth at the sight of blood on Kit’s hands and shirt. She gasped, her stomach rolling.

  Kit turned to look at her, aware of her presence for the first time. “She’s foaling,” she said quietly, worry apparent on her fine-boned face. “And it’s early. She wasn’t due for a few weeks yet. I came out to check on her and saw she was acting strangely. Then I saw that her udder had started to swell, and I knew she was going into labor.”

  With angry resignation, Jade said, “What can you do about it? This is something for Dr. Frazier to tend to, not you. Besides, it’s his horse,” she added icily.

  Kit shook her head stubbornly. “I sent Julio to get him, but nobody knows where he is. I won’t leave her. He told me once that when a mare is foaling, and she starts acting nervous and sweating and straining, everything moves fast, and it’s usually over in a half hour or so.

  “I waited,” Kit hurried to explain, “but when nothing happened, I reached up inside her and found that the colt is turned wrong. It’s supposed to come out with its nose lying on its forelegs, but this one is lying on its side. I’ve got to turn it. Maybe you should wait outside,” she suggested with an apologetic smile before dipping her hands into the bucket of lard Julio had brought earlier.

  By now, Julio and Muego had come inside the stall and were also kneeling beside Kit and the mare, ready to assist if needed. Jade, feeling sick to her stomach, backed away into the shadows. She turned aside, unable to watch.

  Several moments passed, then suddenly everyone cried ou
t with delight. Jade forced herself to look, watching in awe, as a tiny, fuzzy, wet newborn colt made his way into the world, struggling to stand on wobbly legs.

  “He’s beautiful.” Kit was crying happily. “He’s beautiful, and healthy. I can’t believe we did it, Belle…” She threw her arms around the mare as Belle got to her feet to inspect her new son.

  Jade could not deny that she was proud of her daughter, but she found herself suddenly fired with renewed determination to leave the ranch…and Spain. Kit needed the cultural and educational advantages of New York if she were to blossom, and grow, and one day marry someone of refinement and wealth. Maybe, after Colt heard about this unladylike performance, and with so much talk of war in Europe, he might be more easily convinced. Jade had a feeling that maybe he, too, was ready to go home.

  For the moment, however, they had to get to the depot. There might still be time to catch their train. “You did a nice job, dear,” Jade began. “And I’m proud of you, but if you hurry, we can—”

  “No.” Kit stood, whisking a strand of coppery-golden hair back from her damp forehead with the back of her bloodied hand.

  Her voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the look of determination in the steady gaze of her wide lavender eyes. “I have to wait an hour or so, to make sure Belle passes her afterbirth. Then I’ve got to make sure he starts suckling, and that’s not always easy. I may have to—”

  Jade suddenly cried out in complete frustration, “Kit, I’m sorry, but I find all of this disgusting and unladylike! When you father hears about it, you can be sure he’ll agree with me that we need to get you back to civilization and teach you how to be a lady. You are young and beautiful, and you should be looking forward to going to Madrid and being the center of attention, having men flock around you, instead of wallowing in blood and straw and filth!”

  Kit listened quietly to her mother’s ranting and raving. When Jade had calmed down somewhat, she said contritely, “I’m sorry. I really am. And I promise to be ready on time tomorrow.”

  “You see to it!” Jade cried furiously, storming out of the barn.

  Kit stared after her and shook her head sadly. Why, she wondered, couldn’t her mother see that she had dreams of her own? It wasn’t fair to be expected to live a certain way, think a certain way, act a certain way just because she was a woman. She wanted to be herself. She didn’t mean to be disrespectful or disobedient, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt anybody, but that’s the way she was—the way she had to be.

  Chapter Two

  Jade was able to reserve a private compartment on the next morning train to Madrid, but Kit refused to leave for the station till Dr. Frazier arrived to check both mare and newborn colt. Jade was furious, but Kit said there was just no way she could go away for a week until she heard the veterinarian say that all was well. So, once again, Jade had paced the floor and wrung her hands, worrying that they would miss the train. Finally they’d left with no time to spare, arriving at the depot just as the conductor was calling his last “All aboard.”

  Once settled, Jade continued to fume. “It wouldn’t even have mattered to you if we hadn’t got here in time! All you care about is that horse, and—” She shook her head and sighed. “Oh, why do I even bother? You never listen to anything I say. You were told to give that horse back to Dr. Frazier! Sometimes I wonder if they mixed up the babies seventeen years ago, because you are nothing like me! You don’t care anything about the finer things in life—art, theater, fashionable clothes, entertaining, or…or anything I care about,” Jade sputtered in frustration.

  Kit stared out at the passing countryside, loving the tranquility of the plains, framed by rocky hills in the distance. Now and then the tracks passed through vineyards and orange and lemon groves. It was a lovely trip to Madrid, and she had been looking forward to it, but now it was being ruined by the tension between her mother and herself. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t her mother understand? Her father didn’t like being in the middle and never took sides, just discreetly made himself scarce when there was any trouble. When Grandma Kitty was around, though, it was another story. Once, after several glasses of wine, she’d told Kit that although she adored her mother, she thought Jade was a bit of a snob because of her aristocratic background.

  As Kit tried to concentrate on the beauty of the passing scenery, her mother fussed on and on. When she began to say once more that there was nothing left to do but return to New York and expose Kit to the finer things in life, Kit could remain silent no longer.

  “Mother, have you ever stopped to think that maybe you’re the one who’s different, and not me?” she pointed out coldly.

  Jade glared at Kit, emerald eyes narrowing. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re a Romanov, a princess, and the Czar of Russia is your third cousin. That sets you apart from other people.”

  Incredulous, Jade countered, “Well, my blood is your blood! You are also of Romanov lineage, however distant it may be, and the Czar would be your fourth cousin. If I’m different, then so are you, although you certainly inherited none of my royal traits,” she added waspishly. “And besides, royal or not, a girl your age should be looking forward to dancing, and parties, and being courted by men.”

  Kit snickered. “I’m not interested in being courted, and I’d rather be out riding than prancing around in a fancy dress with men ogling me. Is that so wrong?”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “Well, can’t we just forget about it for now and enjoy the trip?” Kit asked wearily.

  Jade looked at her daughter thoughtfully, then leaned back against her seat and closed her eyes in momentary defeat. “We might as well. You never listen, anyway.”

  Kit felt a wave of relief, and seized the opportunity to change the subject. She began to talk about how nice it would be to visit Madrid again, how much she enjoyed staying in their apartment there because it was near Retiro Park, with over three hundred acres of bridle paths, and how she loved renting a horse and riding there.

  “Bridle paths?” Jade’s eyes flew open. “That’s what I mean, Kit. You have no cultural interests. We’re on our way to the most beautiful city in Spain, and all you can think about is horseback riding in the park. Last time we were there, I had to drag you to the Prado, one of the most superb galleries in the world, and all you did was yawn!”

  “That’s not true! I enjoyed it, but I’d rather have been riding. Is that so wrong?” Here we go again, she groaned inwardly.

  Jade silently cursed herself for picking up the argument again, but she couldn’t help herself. She wanted only the best for her lovely daughter, and it was driving her crazy to see Kit ignore her beauty and femininity in favor of pursuits that were anything but genteel. Why, she wouldn’t even ride a horse with an English saddle, but insisted on straddling like a man! Sadly, Jade conceded that it might have been best if she hadn’t insisted Kit come on the holiday. “You’d probably be happier at home with that horse.”

  Kit mumbled woodenly, “No doubt.”

  “What do you plan to wear to the embassy ball? I told the seamstress to make anything you wanted, and she had the sketches of the latest Paris designs.”

  Kit shrugged. “Carasia packed for me. I really don’t know.”

  “Didn’t you have a new gown made?”

  “Why should I? I’ve got lots of beautiful dresses, Mother.”

  Jade was appalled. “But this is an important occasion—the embassy ball to celebrate Thanksgiving, as well as Mr. Wilson’s being elected the new President. Every gown you have was designed for some past function at the embassy, which means you’ll be wearing a dress you’ve worn before.”

  Kit gritted her teeth. She did not want to be insolent, but oh, how she wished she was back at the ranch instead of sitting across from her mother for a two-hundred-mile train ride that suddenly seemed endless. “I’m sorry.” She bit out the words. “But I don’t care. It seems so silly, anyway…and a waste of money
as well.”

  “We’re fortunate that we don’t have to worry about money, Kit. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re quite wealthy. Your father works only to keep from being bored. If he didn’t work another day in his life, we’d never see any difference in our lifestyle, without even touching my money…and you dare to sit there and say we can’t afford for you to have a new gown?”

  Frustrated, Kit protested, “No, that’s not what I meant—”

  “You are so beautiful,” Jade interrupted her. “Prettier than I was when I was a prima ballerina with the Imperial Ballet in St. Petersburg. I am proud that you are my daughter, Kit, and I want to show you off. I want every eligible young man in Europe to fall down on his knees and beg you to marry him. Is that too much for a mother to ask?”

  Kit wanted to laugh but didn’t. Only her mother could harbor such a wish, much less admit it. Now Kit wished she’d just kept her mouth shut. When her mother was in one of these moods there was no reasoning with her. Her father laughingly said that when the blood of her Irish spirit, her Romanov snobbism, and her Russian obstinacy all ran together, it was best to just leave her alone till the flow separated again.

  “First thing tomorrow we’re going shopping. It means I’ll have to miss a morning tea with the wife of the ambassador that I’d looked forward to, but I’ll not have my daughter at the ball wearing a dress that everyone has already seen.”

  Kit’s mind raced with schemes of rebellious revenge. So her mother wanted her to be the center of attention, did she? And wanted men to fawn over her? Well, maybe she should just give her what she wanted! Let her see that it just might be better to allow her the innocent pursuit of her own interests instead of playing the role of a femme fatale.