He still did not care.
“If you won’t let me take care of him, I will find someone who will,” she said heatedly.
He cast her a skeptical look.
“I will,” she cried, and stomped out of the room.
As she fled back upstairs, Kat was too angry even to cry. She had trusted Newkirk, had even allowed herself to enjoy his company, and he had betrayed her. He never intended to let her take Eddie from school; he’d merely told her that to keep her complacent.
Well, she was done with playing the dutiful ward. She’d done all that he had asked and what had it gotten her? Nothing. From now on, she was going to play her own game and find a way to free her brothers from Newkirk’s clutches.
Her immediate need was for a husband who would help her rescue Eddie. It was rather lowering to think that she had such limited number of candidates to choose from, but she’d barely made an appearance in London society and had met so few men yet. Only Morty, Parker, and Wareham.
She’d discovered today that Parker would be of no help—he’d probably send Eddie to an even worse school. That left Morty and Wareham to choose from. And, yes, the Season was still young, and there were other men to meet in London, but she needed one now. With Eddie a prisoner at that horrid school, she did not have time to waste. She needed a husband—fast.
Morty was her best hope. He had written poetry for her; she suspected that meant he liked her more than he had admitted. He might not be her idea of the perfect husband, but if he would help rescue her brothers, it did not matter. She would even marry a prosing old bore like Gerald Parker if he was willing to take the boys out of school.
Morty it must be. She could not afford to wait to see if someone better came along. Marrying someone like Morty had some advantages—she would have no problems in bending him to her wishes. If he was rather deficient in common sense, she could think and plan for the both of them. He would eagerly follow her lead.
She’d make her proposal to him tomorrow.
“M-m-married?” Morty stammered as he sat beside Kat on the drawing room sofa the next morning.
“You like me, don’t you?” she asked.
“Well, yes, but . . .”
Kat grabbed his hand. “Morty, I beg you. Rescue me from my cruel guardian.”
“Newkirk?” He looked puzzled. “He seems like a nice enough fellow.”
“Oh, he puts on a good show in front of people, but he is the meanest man alive.” She felt a small twinge of guilt at blackening his reputation so darkly, but it was his own fault for refusing to take her to Eddie.
Morty regarded her doubtfully.
“He has broken up my family,” Kat said, and it did not take any effort to bring emotion into her voice. “He forced Tom and Sam into the navy, where they are practically enslaved. Once they are sent on a ship, they can never leave.”
“Really?” Morty asked. “That does not seem right.”
“And Eddie! He’s practically a baby, and Newkirk sent him off to some horrid school. The poor child is so miserable—he cries himself to sleep every night. I’ve begged Newkirk to let me go to him, but he refuses.”
Morty looked troubled. “I do not like to hear that.”
Sensing her imminent triumph, Kat moved in for the kill. “And he wants to marry me to some horrid man who is old enough to be my father! All so he can be rid of me and my family.”
“We can’t let that happen,” Morty said. “Perhaps if I spoke to him ...”
“It will not do any good,” Kat said hastily. “He’s vowed to marry me to the first man who asks, no matter what my wishes.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Morty said, shaking his head.
“I won’t be any bother,” Kat promised. “As long as I
can keep a horse or two, I’ll be happy. And you could write me as much poetry as you want.”
“There is that,” Morty said.
“And you could help me rescue my brothers,” Kat said eagerly. She had to make certain he was willing to do that before she took this irrevocable step. “I know you’ll like them; they’re very useful. Eddie is great at catching rabbits, and Tom and Sam, well, they know their way around a stable. They’d care for all your horses.”
Morty still looked unconvinced. “Don’t know what my parents would say.”
Kat stiffened. She had not even stopped to think that Morty had a family—besides his brother. This was a whole new complication.
“Why, they would admire you for helping a damsel in distress,” she said with her brightest smile. “A poor orphan with no one to take care of her.”
She knew she was laying it on thickly, but she suspected that was the only way Morty would agree. And now that she’d started this, she was not going to let him go until he promised to help her.
“Don’t know where we’d live,” he said. “I don’t come into my inheritance until I’m twenty-five.”
“Oh, I have enough funds.” Kat dismissed his concerns with a flick of her wrist. “And I bet Newkirk would pay you a tidy sum to take me off his hands.”
“We need a place to live,” he said again. “Can’t move in with Tippy and Lawrence.”
“I have a home in the country,” Kat said. “Well, it’s Nick’s, but he has no need of it now that he’s in the army. You’d like it there—the hunting is good, the fishing excellent, and plenty of pheasants to shoot.”
Morty’s brow furrowed as he sat deep in thought. Then he stood and regarded her with a determined look.
“I’ll do it,” he said.
“Oh, thank you!” Kat leapt from her chair and flung her arms around him. “You are such a dear! I will never forget this!”
Val was surprised to receive a note from Parker that morning, requesting an appointment, and even more surprised when the man arrived and explained the nature of his visit.
“Know you’re looking for someone to take the girl off your hands,” Parker said the moment he sat down. “Thought I’d put in my offer before it’s too late.”
Val stared at him, trying to hide his dismay. “You wish to ask for Miss Foster’s hand?”
Parker nodded.
Val did not know what to think—other than there was no way he would agree to such a match. Parker and Kat? The very idea was distasteful. The man was all wrong for her.
“She’s a bit young, but she’ll soon grow out of her flightiness,” Parker said. “I know how to keep a woman under firm control.”
Val gritted his teeth to keep from responding as he wished.
“Suppose you want to know more about my situation,” Parker said.
Val held up a hand. “No, that’s really not necessary. I fear you are right—my ward is a rather flighty young lady, and I have already decided that she is not yet ready for marriage. I intend to let her enjoy the Season, gain some polish, and wait Until next year to seek a husband for her.”
Parker looked disappointed. “Oh. Well, I cannot promise that I will still be available by then. Been thinking about taking a wife for some time now.”
“Oh, no,” Val said, “I could not expect you to adjust your plans in such a manner. Who knows if the girl will even be ready next year? Best you keep looking for a suitable partner.”
Parker nodded. “Bit of a shame, though. She seemed to be a spirited miss. Likes to fish and all. Rare thing in a woman, I’ve found.”
Val nodded agreeably. “That is true. But you might prefer to find a woman you can teach to fish, rather than take on one who is already set in her own way.”
Parker absorbed that idea. “You may be right.” He stood and held out his hand. “Thank you for seeing me today, your lordship. I wish you well with the girl. I’ll drop you a note after the new year if I’m still unattached.”
“Please do,” Val said, and eagerly ushered the man out of the room.
Val let out a long sigh of relief when Parker was gone. He’s spun such lies to get rid of the man! But better than telling him the truth—that Val would never
consent to his marriage to Kat, and even if he did, Kat would undoubtedly refuse. Val had seen the expression on her face yesterday during that carriage ride when Parker talked about children.
He should find his ward and let her know that he’d just saved her from an unimaginable fate.
She was coming down the stairs as he started up.
“Ah, there you are,” he said. “I have interesting news for you.”
“Oh?” She looked at him curiously.
“You have made one conquest in London, at least,” he said, wanting to tease her a bit before he broke the news. “I have?” Her eyes widened. “Who?”
“Can’t you guess?” he asked.
“I have no idea. Tell me!”
“Your favorite beau, Mr. Gerald Parker.”
She looked at him with a stunned expression on her face. “Parker? Parker was here to talk about me?”
“Not to just talk,” Val said, enjoying drawing this out. “He offered for your hand.”
He could not decide if horror or surprise was the predominant emotion warring within her.
“And what did you say?” she asked in a whisper.
“I told him you were far too flighty to even think of marriage at this time.”
“Thank God!”
Val gave her a quizzical look. “You don’t mind being called flighty?”
“You can call me anything you like if it saves me from a marriage to that man. How could you even think I would consider such a thing after what he said yesterday? ‘Boys need a bit of toughening,’ indeed.”
“I did rather think you would refuse his suit, so I decided to save you the trouble,” Val said.
“I do not need any favors from you,” she said acidly and continued past him down the stairs.
Shaken by Newkirk’s tale of Parker’s offer, Kat was even more eager for Morty to make his appearance before her guardian. At first, she’d thought that was what Val was alluding to. It had come as a great shock to learn it was Parker. She shivered at the very thought.
Kat was hard-pressed to maintain a calm facade when she joined Sophie in the drawing room. Yet a superstitious fear that if she said anything, her plan would unravel, kept Kat quiet. Even so, she found it hard to contain her excitement. Why, she might have her brothers back in no time.
Kat was so involved in mentally planning her brothers’ homecoming that she completely forgot that Wareham had promised to drive her to view the almost completed Thames Bridge. His arrival at the house caught her by surprise. Spending time with Wareham, which she’d looked forward to precisely because it would irritate Newkirk, no longer mattered now that she’d enlisted Morty’s aid.
Yet it would be far safer if she left the house, lest she blurt her news to Sophie. So while Sophie made polite conversation with Wareham, Kat dashed upstairs to get her coat and bonnet.
The moment she caught sight of Wareham’s elegant phaeton and matched team of chestnuts, her spirits rose.
“What a beautiful team,” she said as Wareham helped her onto the high-perched seat. “They look like prime goers.”
“They are,” he replied with a grin as he took the reins and started down the street. “I thought we could take a round or two in the park before we go to the bridge. Does that meet with your approval?”
“That would be fine,” Kat said, eager to see these horses display their paces.
As they drove, her thoughts returned to the impending conversation between Morty and her guardian. She would like to be there, to make certain Morty pled his case properly. Yet Newkirk was so eager to get her off his hands that even if Morty put forward his proposal in his abominable poetry, she was certain her guardian would gladly agree to the marriage.
“You are rather quiet today,” Wareham said as he smoothly guided his vehicle around two carriages stopped in the middle of the lane.
Kat gave him a guilty look. She should be attending to her escort. After all, she was in the company of a handsome man, in a bang-up carriage with a beautiful team of matched chestnuts, and they would draw the attention of everyone who saw them in the park.
“I am admiring your team,” she said. She’d never driven a high-perched phaeton before, and her hands itched to take a try at the reins. Dare she ask Wareham?
She saw two men riding along the path in front of them and felt a sudden, deep longing for home, where she could ride as she pleased.
“I would rather be riding,” Kat confessed, looking longingly at a sprightly bay as it galloped across the green. “Why didn’t you say so? We can ride tomorrow.”
Kat sighed. “It’s more complicated than that. Newkirk does not wish me to ride while I am in the city.”
“Afraid you might show up the other ladies?” Wareham gave her a teasing look.
“Well ...” Kat suddenly realized that with her future secure, there was no point in prevaricating. “At home, it was only my brothers and me. So naturally, I rode with them and . . .”
“You ride like them,” he finished for her.
Kat eyed him with new respect for his quick understanding. “Exactly. And Newkirk does not think I should be seen riding that way in the park.”
“I fear he is right,” Wareham said.
Kat’s spirits sank. She had misjudged him after all. “However, there are other places you could ride where no one would ever be the wiser.”
“Really?” She looked at him eagerly. “Where?”
“You are relatively safe anywhere as long as you go early in the morning,” he said. “But a more deserted spot, like Hampstead Heath, would be ideal.”
Kat’s pulse quickened. “Do you think I dare?”
“I think you would be safe, as long as you take an escort.”
Kat smiled. “And who did you have in mind?”
“I would be delighted to accompany you,” he said with a sly wink.
Kat opened her mouth to say yes when she suddenly remembered Morty, and Newkirk. What if something happened, and Morty wasn’t able to speak with her guardian today? If Newkirk discovered she went riding with Ware- ham, he would be furious. She did not dare anger him, not until her future was settled.
She shivered with frustration. It would be so glorious to go for a bruising ride! But, she promised herself, once she and Morty were married, she’d be out of Newkirk’s control and she could do as she pleased. It would not be too long before that happened. She could afford to wait a little longer.
“The idea sounds wonderful,” she said slowly, reluctantly. “But I fear I must refuse. I dare not upset my guardian.”
Wareham raised a brow. “I thought you were made of sterner stuff, Miss Foster.”
She grimaced. “Newkirk controls not only my fate, but the fate of my brothers.”
Wareham shrugged. “If you chance to change your mind, you may call on me.”
“Thank you,” she said, then glanced at him slyly. “But I know Newkirk would not object if I drove a carriage. I would love to guide your team around the park.”
Wareham tossed back his head and laughed. “Now, that sounds like the Miss Foster I know. Do you think you can handle these fellows?”
She nodded eagerly.
Wareham pulled up and handed her the reins. “Show me.”
Kat gave him a wide grin, then snapped the reins and urged the horses into a swift trot.
Newkirk might keep her from riding, but handling the reins of Wareham’s exquisite pair was almost as exhilarating. They were by far the sweetest team she’d ever driven.
She wondered if she could persuade Nick to buy her a pair and a phaeton as a wedding present?
Val left his study door ajar so he could hear when Kat returned to the house. He intended to talk with her the moment she arrived about the hare-brained scheme she had concocted with that idiot Mortimer.
At first he had been pleased when the fellow asked for Kat’s hand. Combined with Parker’s earlier offer, it showed that she was attracting male attention and it boded well for her eventually making
a good marriage. Val had never seriously considered agreeing to the union—Mortimer was not at all what he had in mind for his ward.
Yet there was something just a little havey-cavey about the situation. Mortimer had displayed more relief than disappointment when Val had tactfully declined the offer, which made Val wonder just whose plan this had been.
He suspected Kat had a hand in this, especially after her fury yesterday. What had she said? “I’ll find someone who will help me.” Val suspected the hapless Mortimer had been her first choice.
His alertness was rewarded when he heard the front door open and light footsteps treading across the hall. He was out of his chair and at the door in an instant, ready to intercept his ward.
“Kat?” he called.
She was already halfway up the stairs and peered down at him, her bonnet dangling from her arm.
“I should like to speak with you,” he said, and turned back to the study before he could see how she regarded his summons.
He thought about resuming his seat and putting her in the chair facing him across the desk, but decided he would rather adopt a more superior position for the upcoming conversation. He stepped before the mantel, arms crossed over his chest.
“What is it?” She halted in the doorway.
Kat wore a gown he had not seen before—a shade of misty, sea foam green that brought out the blue in her eyes and the roses in her cheeks. She presented a fetching picture. No wonder she’d been able to convince poor Mortimer to go along with her plans.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward the chair. He waited until she complied. She regarded him with a calm expression, but he could tell from the way her fingers toyed with her bonnet ribbons that she was anything but calm.
“I had a caller this afternoon,” he began.
The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow Page 18
