Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book

by Sheridan Jeane

  “Here? In London?” Lady Wilmot’s voice was slightly breathless. “I simply must see its London debut.” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “I’m sure that everyone will want to attend opening night.”

  Daniel finally relaxed. Clearly, the group’s interest in what had transpired between him and Lady Catherine had been diverted by their conversation about Rigoletto. Stumbling upon them alone together had been bad timing, nothing more.

  Upon further consideration, Daniel realized that the timing might have been fortuitous. If not for the sound of the approaching footsteps, he would have found it extremely difficult to break free of their embrace.

  Why did he find Catherine so blasted tempting? She was unusual. And her response to his kiss had been the most surprising part of the evening.

  At first she’d responded in the virginal way he’d expected, but as he deepened the kiss, she'd become gratifyingly passionate. The feel of her, pliant and responsive in his arms, had been more of a temptation than he could resist.

  He’d been reckless. Foolish.

  Was she suitable? Did she meet his criteria? Perhaps. Was she above reproach? That kiss had been a questionable decision on her part. But then again, the circumstances had been unusual. He shouldn’t judge her on that point. After all, he’d given in to the moment as well. In fact, having a passionate wife could be a pleasant bonus. One he hadn’t anticipated.

  Daniel shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he forced his thoughts back to the present and away from the tempting Lady Catherine.

  He tried to focus his attention on the conversation continuing around him. Were they still talking about that opera? He inwardly sighed. Yes. Rigoletto.

  All things considered, tonight had turned out well. Wentworth’s confidence had reemerged, and he seemed to have made a good impression on the guests.

  His thoughts drifted back to Catherine again. She’d mentioned a ride in the park tomorrow. He could arrange a “chance” meeting while she was there. And this time, her sister could serve as a chaperone to provide them with a measure of respectability.

  12 - A Ride in the Park

  Upon arriving home, Mother sent for Mrs. Evans, their housekeeper. She’d retired for the night but still arrived promptly at the summons. They’d come to rely on her gift with poultices and other home remedies over the years, and she was used to being called upon at all hours for help.

  Catherine reclined on her bed atop the covers. Simpson had already helped her change into her nightclothes, and now Catherine leaned against the headboard with her “injured” foot resting on a pillow. Her mother hovered near the window, waiting for the housekeeper to arrive.

  Mrs. Evans rushed into the room, her tired eyes full of worry. As she slid her fingers down Catherine’s ankle, she drew her brows together and frowned. She shot Catherine a sharp, knowing look and pressed her lips together in a thin line of censure.

  Catherine blushed. “I... I slipped off the ladder in Lord Wilmot’s library. I must have twisted it when I landed, but it feels much better already.”

  “Why were you on the ladder during a dinner party?” Her shrewd eyes bored into Catherine’s, pinning her against the pillows.

  “I was helping the marquess find a book.” Catherine found it difficult to meet the woman’s gaze.

  Comprehension gleamed in Mrs. Evans’s eyes. She patted Catherine’s leg and stood. “I can fix you up quick enough. I’ll be right back with a poultice, and you’ll be good as new by morning.”

  “You’re certain?” Mother’s face remained pinched with worry. “We have that musical soiree to attend tomorrow night, and knowing our hosts, she’ll spend quite a bit of time on her feet.”

  “Quite certain, my lady. My poultice will do the trick.” She hurried out of the room.

  Catherine slumped against the pillows in relief. It was impossible to fool Mrs. Evans, but she was loyal and completely trustworthy. She’d never give Catherine away. Of course she surmised that something more had happened in the library, but she’d never give voice to her suspicions. It wasn’t unheard of for a girl’s reputation to be sullied when stories of her indiscretions traveled from house to house via the servants.

  She was so discreet that she’d even kept Catherine’s fencing forays a secret from Mother.

  Mrs. Evans returned a short time later with the poultice in a bowl, some crisp cabbage leaves, and a length of gauze. Catherine could tell by her gait that her hip was bothering her, and a twinge of guilt stabbed at her. Mrs. Evans shouldn’t have to suffer for her foolish behavior.

  The servant sat on the edge of the bed and set her bowl near Catherine’s knee.

  “That smells good enough to eat.”

  Mrs. Evans smiled. “Almost. It’s just some grated potato and mugwort. I added a tincture of peach to help keep the swelling down. The peach is probably what’s whetted your appetite.” She spread the messy concoction over Catherine’s ankle, laid a large cabbage leaf over the gooey mess, and then wrapped a length of gauze over it all to hold everything in place.

  “There you go, my lady. You’ll be good as new by morning.” She glanced at Lady Kensington and then leaned down to murmur into Catherine’s ear. “Mugwort’s also known for enhancing your dreams. Especially prophetic ones. Just rub a bit between your eyebrows.”

  Catherine stared at Mrs. Evans as she cleared her items from the bed. The woman was full of surprises.

  When she was finally alone, Catherine turned off the lamp next to her bed and scooted down under the bedcovers.

  Blast Lord Huntley, with his nimble hands and devilish lips. How could she go back to Bernini’s now, after meeting him as both Lady Catherine and Alexander Gray? How could she take the risk?

  He was entirely too bold... too irritating.

  She’d simply avoid him. That shouldn’t be too difficult. After all, London was a big town.

  The pleasant peach scent from the poultice filled the room. For a moment, Catherine considered doing as Mrs. Evans suggested and putting a dab of the concoction between her eyebrows, but pushed the idea away. The last thing she needed tonight was to have powerful dreams. What if Huntley pursued her there as well?

  §

  As Catherine and her sister rode into the large park, she recognized many friends and neighbors who were also taking advantage of the sunny day. The blue skies and warmer temperatures brought the entire neighborhood out to enjoy the day.

  "It's been too long since we've ridden through the park together," Catherine said, glancing over at her sister. "I'm glad you convinced me to come."

  With the trees bare of leaves, the bright sunlight shone through the branches, warming Catherine as she rode. Her broad-brimmed hat, with its wisp of veil covering the back of her neck, shielded her eyes from the glare. The bridle paths were beginning to dry out, but there were still some muddy areas along the way. Catherine tried to avoid them so that the splashes wouldn’t soil her skirts. Even though her fitted jacket and full skirt were a grayish-black, the mud would still show.

  As she relaxed into the rhythm and sway of her mount, her thoughts kept returning to last night. Lord Huntley had become a problem, one she needed to address. The worst part was her mind’s annoying tendency to dwell on the man— or, more particularly, on his tantalizing taste and the feel of his lips.

  She’d been kissed before, of course. In the gardens at the Norfolk Ball last year, she’d endured the fumbling advances of Lord Watters when he’d proclaimed his undying love. His kisses had been nice, or at least, not unpleasant, but they left her unmoved.

  And his undying love had died a quick death within the span of a week, allowing him to focus on his next ladylove.

  Last night had been such a different experience that it was hard to believe each incident could be termed “a kiss.” She hadn’t been prepared for the sensations she’d felt. The man had taken her by surprise.

  The scoundrel.

  But thinking about it now made something melt inside her.

  She
recalled the Oxford girl Charles had told her about who’d run off to Gretna Green. Was this how she’d felt? Was this why she’d taken such foolish risks?

  She shook herself. This couldn’t continue. Huntley posed too great a danger to her, since he had a foot in both of her lives. She needed to keep him at a distance.

  Catherine struggled with her internal battle as she and her sister rode through the park. Most riders stayed on the main path that encircled the park so they could see and be seen by the other visitors. Preferring to avoid the social chitchat, Catherine led her sister off the main circuit and trotted down a path into the woods.

  Eventually, they came to a fork in the road, where they slowed their horses to a walk. Catherine tugged on the reins to lead the way along the less-traveled route up a rocky hillside. Although this was one of her favorite paths, she hadn’t taken it in several months. She directed Wildfire up the small hill toward a spot where the trail curved around a rocky outcropping.

  She wished she could ride astride rather than in this tiresome sidesaddle. With her right leg locked in place by the fixed pommel, and her left tucked under the lower leaping horn, she could only use her hands to control Wildfire. At least her left foot was tucked into a proper stirrup, rather than dangling there alongside her loose right foot. And poor Wildfire. He had to manage with her weight off-center on the left side of his body.

  Less than one hundred years ago, Catherine the Great of Russia had ridden astride, and she had insisted all the women of her court do so as well. Too bad Queen Victoria didn’t feel the same way.

  Just as she rounded the corner, Catherine noticed a break in the steady rhythm of Muggles’ hoofbeats, followed by the sound of the horse stumbling. Catherine pulled on the reins of her own mount and looked back just in time to see a flurry of petticoats.

  Sarah let out a sharp squeal of alarm as she fell from her horse. She slammed into the ground, and the impact forced out a pained grunt.

  The fall spooked Muggles, and the riderless horse bolted up the hill, barreling his way past Catherine on the narrow path. His broad body scraped against both of Catherine’s legs, perched as she was on her sidesaddle. She teetered to one side, almost losing her seat, and grabbed hold of her horse’s mane.

  Startled, Wildfire tried to grab the bit in his teeth as his instinct to run from danger overtook him, and Catherine had to pull hard at the reins to keep him from bolting as well. Every muscle in her body tensed as she tried to restrain the half-ton animal.

  If she’d been on a man’s saddle, she could have squeezed her knees together to hold on. But with both legs on one side, her balance was much more precarious. She concentrated on staying on the horse and keeping him under control until his panic passed. By the time she looked up, Muggles had already disappeared around the bend of the path.

  The worst of Wildfire’s fear passed, but he still danced with excess energy. With a firm hand, she spun him around and hurried back down the path. She leapt off as soon as she reached her sister’s crumpled form.

  Clutching the reins in her hand, Catherine knelt down. She was terrified for her sister. Her corset pinched against her waist as she struggled to catch her breath. A strange ringing sound grew in her ears as she looked down at her sister.

  In a frightening tableau, Sarah sprawled face down in a pile of leaves. Her hair, tumbled loose from its pins, spread out in a curling brown halo around her head. Seeing her lying so still, Catherine held her breath as fear clutched at her throat.

  “Sarah?” She put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and turned her over. “Sarah!” She gasped to see a trickle of blood seeping from the top of the girl’s hairline. She gently patted Sarah’s cheek, her pulse pounding as she waited for a response.

  But Sarah didn’t move.

  Catherine looked up and down the trail for help, but no one was in sight. Her breathing was ragged as she picked up Sarah’s limp hand and rubbed it between hers.

  “Sarah, Sarah, please wake up!”

  When her sister’s eyelashes fluttered, Catherine let out a sigh of relief. “Sarah.”

  The girl moaned softly and immediately pulled her hand from Catherine, and then tried to push herself up to a sitting position.

  “Ow!” Sarah clutched her head. She pulled her hand away from her face and saw the red smear on her pale glove. “There’s blood. I think I’m hurt!” she cried. “Catherine, my head is bleeding.”

  “Try to stay calm. Lie still for a moment,” Catherine said. “How about the rest of you... does anything else hurt?”

  “No... well, yes... I think I hurt my ankle.” Her eyes welled with tears.

  “I need to find some help.” Catherine tried to keep her voice calm. “Poor Muggles was frightened and ran off. I need to find a way to get you home.” She patted her sister’s shoulder. “Wait here and don’t move. I promise I’ll be right back.”

  Sarah’s chin trembled as she tried to keep her fear in check. Catherine had to force herself to leave her side, but she had no choice. It took two grooms to help them mount sidesaddle, or one groom and a mounting block. There was nothing around to serve as a mounting block, and Catherine couldn’t lift her sister up onto Wildfire without help.

  She stood, grabbed her horse’s dangling reins, and led him up the path. Ahead of her, she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. Catherine turned around and pulled Wildfire across the path to protect Sarah from the oncoming rider. Judging by the sound of the pounding hooves, the horse was approaching fast.

  Catherine tightened her grip on Wildfire’s bridle so he wouldn’t bolt. The hoofbeats were getting closer, and now Catherine could tell that two horses were coming. “Help!” she yelled. “Help us, please!”

  The horses slowed, and a man’s voice called out, “Are you hurt?”

  Catherine took a wobbly step forward as the rider appeared, rounding the promontory rock with Muggles in tow.

  13 - Eyes the Color of Scotch Whiskey

  Daniel’s stomach clenched as he rounded the corner of the trail.

  Catherine stood in front of him, blocking the path with her horse. Thank God she looked uninjured. He’d immediately recognized her voice when he’d heard her calling for help, and he’d feared the worst.

  “Lord Huntley.” She took a step to one side, allowing him a clear view of what lay behind her.

  Daniel leapt from his horse, taking in the crumpled form on the bridle path. Although he’d planned an “accidental” encounter with Catherine, he counted himself lucky to be here at this precise moment. Of course, it also had something to do with the fact that he’d seen her take this path and had circled around to the other end, planning to meet her halfway.

  “What happened?”

  “Sarah took a bad fall from her horse. She was unconscious for a moment, but she’s awake now.” Her fists were clenched, but aside from that, she appeared calm.

  Daniel furrowed his brow as he crouched down on one knee to look at the girl’s head. He smelled the iron tang of blood as he leaned over her. It dripped down the side of her face, seeping toward her ear. He removed his riding gloves and gently pulled her hair to one side to inspect her head. A lump had already emerged high on her forehead, and blood still oozed from the wound.

  “The good news is that it’s a very small cut. It looks to be only a half inch long.”

  He pulled a fresh white handkerchief from his pocket, tucked it into Sarah’s hand, and helped her press it against her head. He glanced at Catherine, noting that she remained remarkably calm and level-headed. No hysterics, no hand-wringing.

  He looked back down at Sarah. “Press firmly against the cut. I know there’s a lot of blood, but head wounds tend to bleed profusely. It should stop soon. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

  Sarah just gave him a wide-eyed stare, and Daniel wondered how hard she had hit her head. Could she be addled?

  When she didn’t speak, Catherine answered for her. “She told me her ankle hurts. Perhaps she caught it in the stirrup when she f
ell.” Catherine crouched down and gently rested her hand on her sister’s laced-up boot.

  “You can’t say ankle,” Sarah whispered loudly to her sister. “It’s not polite.”

  Catherine grinned at her. “I just did, and nothing bad happened.”

  Sarah glared at her and then turned her attention to Daniel. “The fixed pommel was bothering me, so I lifted my... my limb out of it to rest it on top, and at that exact moment, Muggles stumbled and I slipped off.” She lifted her head from the packed earth to look toward her feet. Her chin trembled. “It isn’t broken, is it?”

  “I can’t tell, but I think we should keep your boot on until we get you home. I don’t want to jostle your limb any more than necessary.”

  She nodded her approval at his plan— or was it at his proper use of the term “limb”? And then she bit at her lower lip.

  The horses shifted restlessly on the path, and Daniel became aware of how cold the damp earth was under his knee. The girl would be chilled to the bone if he didn’t move her soon.

  Sarah pulled the cloth from her head and examined it. “There’s so much blood,” she said, her tone shaky. The tears pooling at the corners of her eyes began to spill down the sides of her face, mingling with her blood.

  “That’s because it’s a head wound,” he said again, wondering about the severity of the blow to her head. He exchanged a worried glance with Catherine. “It isn’t as bad as it seems. Keep the cloth pressed against it, and it will stop bleeding soon. Let’s see if we can get you up on your horse so we can take you home.”

  Daniel stood up and reached out his hand so that Sarah could grasp it. He pulled her to her feet, but the girl stumbled and seized his sleeve to keep from falling. He wrapped an arm around her waist to help steady her.

  “My head is spinning.”

  “I don’t think you’ll be able to ride your horse after all.” He rubbed his chin. “I have a better idea. Why don’t you ride with me on my horse? I can help steady you, and your sister can bring your horse.”