Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book

by Sheridan Jeane

  “Muggles,” interjected Sarah.

  “Muggles?” What on earth was the girl saying? It sounded like an expletive. That blow to her head seemed to have left her befuddled.

  “My horse’s name is Muggles.” She sounded annoyed.

  “Ah!” He grinned, relieved to learn she wasn’t spouting gibberish. “I like that name. Muggles. It makes him sound friendly.”

  “Oh, he is.”

  “Well then, your sister can lead Muggles home, and you can ride with me on my horse, Rajah.”

  “Rajah? Isn’t a rajah like a king?” Sarah asked as he maneuvered her closer to his horse.

  “Yes, it is. You’re a very intelligent girl,” he said, gently lifting her to sit just behind the saddle. He took care not to jostle her ankle. “My Rajah has a king-like disposition, and I’m sure he’ll be proud to carry a princess such as you.” He glanced behind her. With Sarah’s skirts trailing over the horse’s rear, it appeared as though Rajah wore a dress.

  Daniel suppressed a smile as he handed Sarah the reins to Catherine’s mount. “Keep a firm grip on these and hold him still. You’ll need to play the role of a groom while I lift your sister onto her sidesaddle.” He waited until she nodded in agreement before turning to face Catherine.

  He gestured her over and then stooped down as he laced his fingers together so she could step into them. He forced himself not to look at her small foot as she placed it in his hands and he then hoisted her onto the saddle. Last night his proximity to her bare ankle had incited the events that had led her to fall into his arms. Although he might enjoy recreating that moment, he didn’t relish having Sarah as an onlooker.

  Daniel turned his attention back to Sarah, and with some athletic maneuvering, he managed to mount Rajah so that he sat in front of her. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to his waist.

  “I know what a Rajah is because Papa used to be in the army. He was in India for many years. In fact, Catherine and Charles were both born there.”

  “Were they really? That’s rather unusual.” He shot a curious glance at Catherine and noticed that her lips were pressed together. Was she embarrassed by her unusual childhood, or was she simply bothered that Sarah talked about her?

  “I’ve never been outside of England. Papa sold his commission when he became Grandfather’s heir, so he’ll probably never take us back to India. It’s so unfair.”

  “Hmm.” The girl was full of information. Perhaps that accounted for the look on Catherine’s face.

  “Catherine barely remembers India,” Sarah continued, “but Charles talks of it frequently. That’s where he first learned to fence.”

  “We don’t live far from here,” Catherine said, jumping in and interrupting the flow of family information.

  Daniel grinned. As an only child, he’d never suffered through the tribulations of having a younger sibling, but he’d witnessed Wentworth in similar situations. Sarah was precocious... and particularly chatty.

  “Look at the way Rajah holds his head up high,” Sarah said. Daniel felt her lean slightly to one side to look past him, and he swept an arm back to make sure she didn’t lose her balance. “I bet all the horses in India look like him. He’s so handsome, and he looks proud and regal, just like a king. See?” she said as she released one of her arms on his waist to point. “He’s twitching his ears as though he knows I’m talking about him. I’m surprised Prince Albert doesn’t ride him. Prince Albert is married to Queen Victoria, you know. I’m sure he’d love Rajah.”

  “I’d hate to have to give him up. Do you think I should hide him from Prince Albert?” he asked in a teasing tone. “Perhaps I should send him back to Scotland for safekeeping.”

  “Silly.” Sarah slapped him on the shoulder and then wrapped her arm around his waist again. “Prince Albert wouldn’t take your horse from you.” She chuckled. “Ow... don’t make me laugh. It makes my head hurt.”

  Daniel exchanged amused glances with Catherine.

  The route to Catherine’s home took them directly past Daniel’s townhouse. As they approached it, he noticed one of his servants, Driscol, sweeping the front steps.

  Driscol marked their approach, returned to his task, and then glanced back to stare at them. He dropped his broom with a clatter and rushed toward them. “Lord Huntley, may I be of assistance?” He trotted alongside them, his eyes full of concern as he took in the blood on Sarah’s face.

  “You’re just the man I hoped to see. I’m escorting this young woman home. Please send someone to Kensington House immediately to inform them that Lady Sarah has taken a small spill from her horse and will be returning shortly.”

  “I’ll do it myself, my lord,” he said, with a small bow of his head. He trotted around the side of the house toward the rear stables.

  He noted Catherine’s frown. “I hope he won’t alarm them overmuch,” she said.

  “Driscol is a reliable fellow. I’m sure he’ll be able to deliver the message without causing any panic.” Daniel urged his mount forward and they continued on toward Kensington House.

  Catherine’s expression eased at his words. She looked over her shoulder and peered at his house with curiosity. “Am I to assume that is your residence, Lord Huntley?” she asked.

  “Yes, for now.” He gave a small shrug. “I’m currently leasing this townhouse, but I hope to buy something larger. This place doesn’t allow me to entertain many guests, but it has the advantage of being conveniently located.”

  “Does that mean you plan to spend more time here in London?” Catherine shifted in her saddle as she studiously avoided his gaze.

  Could it be that his answer mattered to her?

  Driscol overtook them on horseback, cantering past on his way to deliver the message. The young man was prompt, and Huntley watched him with satisfaction. Offering him this opportunity had been a good decision. The young man’s family had always been reliable, and Huntley had been pleased to offer him a position as footman. The young man had never wanted to work building ships like his father, but had frequently mentioned wanting to come to London.

  Huntley glanced at Catherine, watching her through hooded eyes. “I plan to be in London for the next few months.” He noticed that her mouth twitched, but she said nothing. Yes, his answer mattered to her, but how? And why?

  “I have a couple of reasons for frequenting London,” he continued, watching her reaction. How much did she know about him? “Over the past few years, I’ve developed many business interests in this region, and I must spend a great deal of time here managing them. Also, I find I enjoy visiting London. It’s become a second home to me. This is the first year I’ve availed myself of society’s entertainments. My title has been helpful in making me more welcome, despite my lowly business interests.” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

  “Yes, most gentlemen tend to avoid business dealings, thinking it beneath them,” she said. Then she rushed to add, “But not in my family, of course. Papa has a keen interest in the shipping business and encourages my brother, Lord Spencer, to learn about it as well.”

  He’d forgotten about the new Earl of Kensington’s interests, Daniel realized as he pulled his head back slightly. Kensington’s business involvement had caused him to remain on the fringe of society until just recently, when he’d inherited the title.

  He frowned. Was she an outcast too?

  “I’m glad you like London,” Sarah piped up from her perch behind him. “It’s one of my favorite places. Catherine loves it too, don’t you, Catherine? Perhaps you’ll find a house near ours. We could be neighbors.” She bounced a little on the saddle behind him. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Catherine? I’m sure you would love to have such a handsome man as Lord Huntley living next door.” Her voice took on a singsong quality as she openly baited her sister.

  Daniel stiffened. The impudent little minx sitting behind him had scored a point against Catherine.

  “Yes, wonderful,” Catherine said dryly. She shot her sister a quelling look a
nd then shook her head in exasperation.

  He glanced at Catherine’s profile as she returned her gaze to the road. She really was fetching, as well as kind and intelligent. But his high hopes for the day had plummeted. No matter how much he liked her, Catherine didn’t meet his requirements for a wife. He realized he was expecting her to maintain principles which he’d chosen to ignore, but with her father’s involvement in business, she simply wouldn’t make a suitable wife. He needed someone above reproach. Someone more like Lady Lydia. She might have a sharp tongue, but she was eminently proper.

  The decision left him with a hollow sensation. The acute sense of loss surprised him.

  “Tell me more about Muggles,” he said, twisting in his saddle to glance back at Sarah. “He seems to be a fine horse.”

  Sarah needed no further encouragement and launched into joyful descriptions of Muggles and his entourage at the stables. Lord Whatsis, Princess, and Flitwhitty, the cats who lived in the stables, were introduced at great length.

  Daniel glanced at Catherine, and she shot him a look of gratitude that he assumed was for distracting her sister. He smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment.

  When they arrived at Kensington House, two women stood waiting for them. One wore a gray dress with a white bib apron, and the other, a plain black dress with a white collar. They must be the housekeeper and governess.

  The two women fluttered around them as the group dismounted. A stable boy led Catherine’s and Sarah’s horses back toward the stables, and the two servants helped Sarah hobble up the stairs and into the house. The women made a great fuss, discussing ice packs and poultices and bed rest. Sarah would be well cared for. Perhaps too well. The front door closed behind them.

  And then Daniel was alone with Catherine.

  “Thank you for your help, Lord Huntley,” she said, staring down at her hands as she plucked at her leather riding gloves.

  As she licked her lips nervously, Daniel found he couldn’t look away. The memory of last night, and the feel of her lips against his, suddenly crashed upon him as though it had only happened moments ago.

  He could almost hear an echo of the slight moan that had escaped her lips.

  “You were our savior today,” she murmured. Her low voice sent a tremor down his spine. When she lifted her chin, the sunlight hit her face, revealing eyes the color of Scotch whiskey. “I really don’t know how we would have managed without your help.”

  Daniel forced himself to look away because he found he was entirely too fascinated with her mouth. “Assuredly, Lady Catherine, the pleasure was all mine.” His voice sounded husky to his ears.

  Catherine blushed at his choice of words, and he could have kicked himself for being so clumsy. Since he didn’t plan to pursue her, he needed to stop this flirtation.

  “Good day, Lord Huntley.” Catherine spun around and hurried into the house.

  Despite her abrupt departure, he smiled. He needed to examine the whiskey collection at the Ambridge Club. Which one, exactly, matched her eyes?

  Then he shook himself. No, it would be best not to dwell on this young woman. It was a pity, since he found her intriguing. But his children would have a difficult enough time without having two parents with entirely unconventional lives.

  Perhaps her eyes were the color of Glenfarclas.

  14 - Ganesha

  During the following week, Catherine grew more and more restless. Mother’s busy schedule of afternoon calls normally provided ample opportunity for Catherine to fence without risk of being detected, but this week had been different. With Mother’s new plan for securing a quick engagement, she’d insisted Catherine accompany her every afternoon. That meant that Catherine had only been able to steal a few scattered moments to practice. Tonight’s weekly excursion to Bernini’s Academy couldn’t come soon enough.

  She glanced at the window and grimaced at the thick fog that had descended upon the city. Would it burn off before she needed to leave tonight?

  Catherine loved their converted ballroom. When they had first returned from India, Grandfather had allowed Papa to install a couple of cabinets in the seldom-used space, along with a number of large wall mirrors. Everything looked perfectly elegant. No one would guess that the cabinets held fencing supplies.

  When Mother was home, Catherine normally resisted succumbing to the temptation the room presented. But today, her restlessness spurred her on, and Catherine decided to risk escaping to the ballroom, if only for a short time. Once inside, she approached one of Papa’s cabinets. An artisan in India had created the pair for him, and the doors bore carvings of Ganesha, who was dancing and holding swords. She couldn’t help smiling when she looked at them. Dancing and fencing... Papa knew her so well. She wondered if they were the only two people who understood the significance of the images. She swung open the elaborately decorated door and selected a foil from within the cabinet.

  She tended to avoid looking in the mirrors surrounding the ballroom when she fenced while wearing women’s garb. The sight disoriented her. She found it difficult to reconcile her thoughts and actions as a fencer with the demure young woman who faced her in the reflection. Only when fencing did she willingly allow her fire and passion to emerge.

  With a quick flick, she took an “en garde” stance. As she worked through a set of footwork exercises, she relaxed, feeling more limber than she had in days. The tension that had grown in the week since her last trip to Bernini’s eased.

  The sound of the ballroom door opening startled her. Catherine quickly dropped the tip of her foil to her side, hiding its length in the folds of her bell-shaped skirt. She spun toward the door, but when she saw Charles, she relaxed.

  “I received your note,” he said as he shut the door. “Since the door was unlocked, you must have been certain I’d come.” He turned the key to ensure their privacy.

  “Not certain, but hopeful.” The exercise had warmed her, dispelling the chill of the day. She flipped her foil back out of her skirts with practiced ease as she rolled her shoulders. She beckoned her brother to join her with a flick of her wrist.

  He said nothing, but turned to the fencing armoire. He plucked a helmet from its depths and tossed it to her and then selected a helmet and foil for himself. “Don’t damage my frock coat. I’d rather not change again, and I have an appointment soon.” He dipped low in his stance, preparing to spar.

  “You aren’t going to limber up?” Catherine asked.

  “You’ve only fenced one night in the past five months, whereas I’ve done so almost daily. This is the best opportunity I’ve had in a long time to beat you.” Charles crossed his sword tip with hers. “En garde,” he said, and abruptly lunged, just barely missing a hit.

  Was that really what he thought? That she was out of practice? She grinned as she parried and responded with a counterattack that landed a point on his right shoulder. The button on the tip of the foil prevented it from ripping through the fine fabric of his jacket.

  “Point,” said Charles, sounding frustrated as he returned to position. “I thought you’d be slower.”

  “When we were at the country house, I couldn’t fence, but I was still able to keep up with my training. I’ll try not to ruin your clothing,” she said as she flicked the tip of her foil toward his midriff.

  “Don’t rip the fabric. I should’ve known better than to wear it.” He gave a crooked smile and shrugged out of his frock coat. “To think I assumed you were out of condition...” His voice trailed off as he shook his head ruefully.

  “You should know I’d never let my skills deteriorate. Fencing is my life. Or rather, fencing saved my life.” With a glance at the carved Ganesha on the door, Catherine moved to one of the fencing dummies dangling from the open cabinet. Facing it, she thrust the tip of her foil at the red heart painted on its chest. Her hand was steady, her arm firm, and her aim true. A smile of satisfaction slid across her face as she glanced over her shoulder at her brother.

  He draped his dark coat over the b
ack of one of the delicate balloon-backed chairs lining the wall. “Actually, it was more of a hope than an assumption.” He flexed the steel of his foil, bending the end of it with his left hand while holding the grip with his right. “You’re right. I should have known. How did you manage it? After all, we don’t have a private fencing parlor at the country house.”

  She gave him an enigmatic smile as she stepped away from the dummy to face him again. “Weren’t you even curious before now?”

  Charles stepped into the en garde position. “I knew you’d never risk letting Mother discover you holding a foil.”

  “Certainly not. She’d be livid with fury if she ever suspected I was still fencing.” Catherine responded to his feint, gently brushing it aside. “While we were in the country, I had to resort to some less traditional methods,” she admitted, keeping a careful eye on her brother as he shifted his weight. She could always predict his attacks by the movement of his feet.

  Charles raised his foil, and Catherine beat it to the side, following up with a graceful compound attack, using a combination of feints to keep him retreating. She withdrew for a moment to avoid his parry and then performed another feint, followed quickly by a lunge.

  “Walking on the stones along the brook is excellent practice for my footwork.” Catherine demonstrated by taking two quick steps back.

  Charles performed a glise, sliding the edge of his foil up the edge of Catherine’s, causing the lengths of steel to ring in anger, and closed the distance between them. “That explains why you came home soaked last September, just as I was leaving for Oxford.” He grinned. “Your waterlogged skirts and squishing shoes left a trail of shame through the house.”

  She quickly advanced on him and then performed a lunge, but he retreated. Catherine glared at him. “Are you trying to throw off my game? Teasing me won’t work. I only fell into the water that one time, and you just happened to be around to witness my return. It became much more difficult when the stones were slick with snow.” And the ice-cold water had provided a much greater incentive to stay dry. In a swift motion, Catherine performed a fleche, leaping off her leading foot and scoring a second point on his chest as she passed him at a run.