The Seventh Suitor

by Laura Matthews

  “The young fool!”

  “Worse than a fool. It was inexcusable. And yet she has forgiven him, Thomas. What if he had died before writing that letter? That my brother should place such a burden on the girl! That I should have sneered at her for accepting the legacy!”

  “You could not know.”

  “She could have told me. Anytime these last three years she could have done so. And do you know why she did not? Because she knew it would hurt me.” Winterton rubbed his brow in an attempt to soothe the headache which would not go away.

  “Why did she tell you now?” Thomas asked curiously.

  “Because . . .” Winterton did not wish to disclose the whole of that discussion. “It stung her that I called her dishonorable.”

  “I am shocked that you should do so,” Thomas said softly.

  “She has a way of bringing out the worst in me.”

  “And the best.”

  Winterton returned the steady gaze. “As you say. Everything else I know about her is to her credit. This one point had to be . . . clarified. It has been an undercurrent in our . . . in all of our dealings.”

  “I’m glad that it has been settled, though I doubt that Miss Montgomery had any joy in doing it.”

  “The only joy she received from the interview was in landing me a ferocious slap,” Winterton said ruefully, as he rubbed his cheek reminiscently. “No, that is not true. She asked my forgiveness of Carl. I . . . gave it. But it is not something that can be easily forgotten.”

  “It must be. You should be grateful that Carl realized his folly before he died. His infatuation with Miss Montgomery unbalanced him somewhat. I did not approve at the time of all the pressure that was brought to bear on her—from you and your mother, as well as Carl himself. She was scarcely out of the schoolroom. I wonder that she managed to cope with all of it. Her own parents also must have looked kindly on the match.”

  “You are not consoling me, Thomas,” Winterton said wryly. “I did not wish to play that part, either, but I did not want to see Carl go to the Peninsula in such a frame of mind. He grew up there, though. Cotton spoke most sincerely of his courage and fortitude. And the letter to Miss Montgomery was an agony of realization of his ‘villainy.’ His wound was not sustained through any rashness, but in the line of duty.”

  “Be content, then. You owe it to Carl and Miss Montgomery.”

  “She has every right to hate me.”

  “You know she does not,” Thomas replied firmly.

  Winterton did not reply but gazed out the window as he tapped his fingertips on the chair arms. Thomas, correctly assuming that he was dismissed, quietly exited. His employer sat for a lengthy time considering the situation. He had offered for Miss Montgomery and been refused. That refusal, of course, was based partially on the clumsy pretext he had used to make his offer. At the time, too, he had still believed Miss Montgomery—Kate, for God’s sake—he had no intention of talking to himself the way he was forced to talk to others—well, he had still believed Kate had been wrong in accepting Carl’s legacy. He had not pursued his proposal owing to what followed.

  Winterton was curious as to what other items Kate considered essential to marriage. But he was reluctant to press the matter. He did not wish to remind her of her pursuit by his brother. She had suffered enough at the hands of his family. Far better to stifle his own feelings and allow her to go on her way. He felt quite noble, and rather ill, with this resolution.

  When several days passed and Thomas realized that his employer had no intention of calling at the Hall again, he felt it necessary to send a note to Miss Montgomery.

  Chapter 20

  Kate spent the days after her expedition with Mr. Single in a flurry of activity. She proceeded with work on the “town” book, obtained her father’s permission and surveyed the servants remaining at the Hall as to whether any of them were interested in learning to read, and prepared the schoolroom for the two who eagerly accepted her offer. She began to meet with these two experimental pupils an hour a day, every other day. Since they were members of the household, she accomplished this during the mid-morning when they could be freed from their duties for a short period.

  In addition to these activities, she often rode over to Ralph’s farm to check on the running of the farm and the stable. She regretted that he had had to pass up the chestnut in London. It would indeed have been a wise addition to his stud. She had discussed with her father the possibility that another property be found for the tenant, so that Ralph and Charity could live in the farmhouse.

  While her father looked into this matter she considered the remodeling of the building which would be necessary. Ralph was to be home within the next few days, and Charity and her parents would follow in mid-June so that they might meet Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery. Since their visit could not be lengthy, owing to Mr. Martin-Smith’s being unable to desert his parish for long, Kate was determined that she would have all organized so that Charity and Ralph could make the necessary decisions in the short period of time they would have.

  These activities were not sufficient to keep Kate’s mind from wandering to her main preoccupation, however. She refused to give in to thoughts of Winterton and her refusal of his suit. He had not offered her what she wanted, and she came to fear that he would not, as the days passed without word from him. So she also spent many hours organizing her travel memorabilia, and playing the pianoforte and dulcimer for her father in the evenings.

  When Mr. Single’s note arrived she quietly withdrew to her bedroom to read it. “Dear Miss Montgomery:

  Knowing of your concern for Lord Winterton’s distress, I pen this note to advise you that he has confided to me your revelation of Carl’s behavior toward yourself. We had a long discussion of the matter, and I think his mind is much more at ease. There appears to be some other problem troubling him which he has not deemed it advisable to confide to me, and which is causing some distress and withdrawal on his part. I persist in believing that it is something which can be worked out. Where I have failed, perhaps you can succeed. Your most obedient servant, Thomas Single.”

  Kate was pleased with this message. She continued her activities and welcomed her brother home the next day with enthusiasm. Before he had time to reach his room, she and her father had made him aware of the various activities going forth on his behalf. He was caught up in their enthusiasm and suggested that he and Kate ride over to the farm first thing next morning.

  “Benjamin didn’t mind selling out?” he wondered.

  “No,” his father replied. “He’s eager to try his own hand on the Yeovil property.”

  “And you think the farmhouse can be remodeled to suit us, Kate?” Ralph asked eagerly.

  “I believe so. You’ll have to decide. Papa and I have thought of some possibilities. The sooner you decide what is to be done, the sooner the work can be started. Some things can go forward now, and when Charity comes you can complete the arrangements. The project will provide some much needed work in the neighborhood, too.”

  “Yes,” her father agreed. “It will serve a dual purpose. I’ve found another farm for your tenant, and we’ll generously reimburse him for the change. Things are in a way to being settled, if they meet with your approval.”

  “Can’t thank you enough,” Ralph said, as he shook his father’s hand heartily and then hugged his sister.

  Ralph and Kate started for the farm directly after breakfast the next day. Kate spent the ride telling Ralph of her projects and soliciting information on Charity and Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Hall. When they arrived, the tenant’s youngest son burst into a gleeful smile on sight of Ralph and took to his heels.

  “I say,” Ralph laughed. “What did I do to cause that?”

  But they were far too busy with a survey of the stables and the fields to conjecture on the lad’s strange behavior. On completion of this, the tenant’s wife graciously allowed them a tour through the farmhouse and Kate indicated the possible changes which could be made to expand and
improve the residence.

  “I think it can be done,” Ralph announced, after they had thanked Mrs. Jollet and descended the front stairs. “Doesn’t need to be too fancy or too big. Charity will love choosing the draperies and carpets and such. Have you . . .” Ralph was interrupted by the clatter of hooves in the drive. The brother and sister looked up to find Winterton approaching. He was leading the chestnut stallion.

  “Good morning, Miss Montgomery, Ralph.” He made a bow from the saddle and then dismounted. “I understand congratulations are in order, Ralph.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Ralph murmured, his eyes on the chestnut.

  “I have brought your wedding present. Can’t have him eating his head off in my stables forever,” Winterton said with a grin.

  “M’ father said you’d offered to see to the buying of the horse but that he’d refused. I had forgotten to tell him I wanted to purchase it,” Ralph said, bemused.

  Winterton kept his eyes on Ralph, unable to meet Kate’s steady, fascinated gaze. “But I knew of your intention. I couldn’t very well let Darfort have him.”

  Ralph was running his hands down the horse’s legs. “You didn’t have to go too high for him, did you?”

  “You don’t ask that of a wedding present,” Winterton reminded him.

  “No, no, of course not. Sorry,” Ralph fumbled. “Must thank you. Very kind of you. Charity will be pleased.”

  Winterton laughed. “I doubt she will consider it the ideal present.”

  “Well, ordinarily that might be so,” Ralph admitted. “But she knew I regretted not arranging for it.” He shook Winterton’s hand. “Very good of you. Much obliged.”

  “My pleasure,” Winterton responded, and there followed an awkward moment before Ralph said, “I’ll take him to the stables.” He grasped the animal’s bridle and left Kate and Winterton together.

  “That was extremely thoughtful of you, my lord,” Kate said softly. “Did the little Jollet boy come to tell you that Ralph was here?”

  “I promised him half a crown,” Winterton confessed, with a self-conscious look. To avoid another clumsy silence he continued, “Walk with me a bit, please, and tell me of the plans for the farm now that Ralph is marrying.”

  Kate took his arm and they strolled off aimlessly as she spoke of the arrangements which were being made. In her preoccupation she did not consider their direction until she found herself at the stream. She felt a blush rise to her cheeks and looked up at him inquiringly. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  He met her eyes steadily. “Yes. I would have you overcome any embarrassment you feel about the incident.”

  “I did not know, at the time . . . When I got home and saw myself in the mirror . . .” Kate’s voice drifted off in confusion, and her hand dropped from his arm.

  “Sit here on the bank with me,” Winterton urged gently, and Kate hesitantly obeyed. “When I watched you . . . swimming, you made an enchanting picture. No, do not blush. You were so determined and so free, I could not take my eyes from you. But when I came to your assistance and saw how revealing your . . . garment was, I spoke hastily from my own shock. Had I said nothing, you might never have discovered and been so mortified. I was very clumsy, as I often am with you.”

  “Why?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Why are you often clumsy with me?” she asked frankly.

  Winterton pulled a blade of grass and regarded it for a moment. Then he met her questioning eyes and answered honestly, “Because I am fond of you.”

  Kate nodded encouragingly. “I thought so, but why should that make you clumsy?”

  A puzzled frown drew Winterton’s dark brows together. When he did not speak Kate proceeded, “You are fond of Ralph and of Mr. Single, and you are not clumsy with them.”

  “How do you know?” he asked with ascerbity.

  “Well, are you?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Perhaps you are clumsy with women you are fond of,” Kate suggested mischievously.

  “I am not fond of very many women,” Winterton retorted, “and with those I am fond of, I am not clumsy.”

  “I see,” Kate sighed. “It is only me, then?”

  “Yes,” he said firmly.

  “That’s interesting.” Kate smoothed out the folds in her riding habit and gazed down to the stream. “Have I done something to make you wary of me?”

  Winterton tapped his riding crop against his booted foot and replied exasperatedly, “You are mocking me, Miss Montgomery.”

  “You called me Kate the other day.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes, you said ‘For God’s sake, Kate, put some clothes on!’” Kate mimicked his horrified accents in the deepest voice she could manage, her eyes twinkling even as the blush again stained her face.

  “You are provoking me, Kate,” he said deliberately.

  “I know, Lord Winterton.” She kept her eyes firmly on her hands folded in her lap.

  “Andrew. I should like to hear you call me Andrew.”

  “Very well, Andrew.”

  “Would you look at me, Kate?”

  “Certainly, Andrew.” She raised her eyes to his.

  “The other day you started to describe your ideas on marriage. One ingredient was mutual respect. Are there others?”

  “There must be a mutual . . . fondness. An attraction between the man and woman.’’

  “Is there anything else?”

  “I think it is easier if they are from approximately the same class. Do you not have ideas on marriage, L . . . Andrew?”

  “I had not thought of it much until recently,” he replied, his gaze on a tree across the stream.

  “And what had you thought recently?”

  “That I should like to marry you.”

  “This thought,” Kate asked, “did you have it only after you saw me . . . swimming?”

  Andrew swung around to face her, gripping her shoulders firmly. “Good God, no! How could you think so?”

  “I merely wished to be sure,” she replied in a small voice. “You have believed me capable of dishonor until quite recently, you see.”

  Andrew seemed to recollect himself. He dropped his hands from her shoulders and said slowly, “Even then I wanted to marry you, though I struggled with myself. I admit I used the swimming incident the other day as the easy way of inducing you to marry me.”

  “Yes,” Kate retorted, “I thought that rather clumsy of you.”

  “We have already established that I am clumsy with you, Miss Montgomery,” he said stiffly.

  “Do you suppose that is because you wish to marry me but cannot bring yourself to do so, Lord Winterton?” she asked sadly.

  “I have asked you and you told me we should talk no more of it,” Winterton pointed out, once again tapping his riding crop against his boot.

  “It was unnecessary, given the circumstance.”

  “I have no wish to cause you further distress by pressing my suit.”

  “I should not feel the least bit distressed.”

  Andrew took her hands, his eyes locked with hers, and said carefully, “I have the greatest respect for you and I am fond of you. No, that is not altogether accurate. I . . . love you, Kate. And I dare say I shall become far less clumsy if you say you can return my regard.”

  “What you mean is that you will become quite dictatorial again if I do so,” she speculated, a whimsical smile twitching her lips. “But there is nothing for it,” she sighed. “I love you, Andrew.”

  “And you will marry me?” he asked, his pressure on her hands increasing.

  “Yes, Andrew. I have developed a most unaccountable desire to see you in that incredible bed again.”

  “And I to teach you to swim, my love,” he said. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her tenderly at first, and then in earnest. When at last they drew apart he said, “I had a letter from Charles today. He has requested my permission to wed your sister. I hope you will not allow that to prolong
our engagement unduly.”

  “I should not dream of it,” she responded breathlessly, a blush staining her cheeks.

  Copyright © 1979 by Elizabeth Rotter

  Originally published by Warner Books

  Electronically published in 2004 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228

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  This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.