The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  “Thank you, but I will walk.”

  Her reluctance spurred his determination. This was a perfect opportunity to allay her apprehensions. “Oh, come now, Mrs. Mayfield. You have been to the village, I see, and I suspect your basket is growing heavier by the moment.”

  “I am quite capable of carrying my basket,” she protested, firmly intending to resist his cajolery. Lord Knowlton only boded danger for her.

  “Now, do not be churlish, Mrs. Mayfield. I am only trying to be a good neighbor.” Knowlton gave her his most innocent smile. “Contemplate how much more pleasant your afternoon will be if you arrive at your home rested and refreshed, instead of worn and tired from a hot, dusty walk.”

  His persistence irritated Katherine.

  “Surely you are not nervous about driving with me?” Knowlton flashed her an injured look. “I would understand your hesitation if I was inviting you into a closed carriage, but I hardly think you are in much danger from me in the curricle.”

  As her reluctance stemmed precisely from her apprehensions about the earl, Katherine was at a loss for a civil reply. Why would he not leave her alone?

  Knowlton shook his head sadly. “I see that I have misjudged you, Mrs. Mayfield. I thought you were the type of lady who would not judge another merely on the basis of hearsay. How can you be so certain that I am not a suitable companion?”

  “You mean to suggest otherwise?” she asked dryly. She could not resist the temptation to bandy words with him. Words, after all, were perfectly safe.

  He flung a hand to his breast. “You wound me, my lady. You impugn my honor.”

  The rakehell had no honor, she thought, amused nonetheless by his protestations of injured innocence.

  “You can rely on my complete trustworthiness,” he promised, pleading for her capitulation.

  “I thank you for your concern, Lord Knowlton,” she said coolly. “But I much prefer to walk. Good day, my lord.” After bobbing a slight curtsy, Katherine turned and resumed her steps down the lane.

  Despite his disappointment, Knowlton’s admiration rose a notch. This was to be no easy conquest. He picked up the reins and urged his horses into a slow walk. Mrs. May- field would find that he was not readily discouraged.

  “You have not yet asked me what drew me into town this afternoon.” His voice held a slightly mocking tone.

  Katherine kept her eyes facing forward, grateful that her bonnet hid most of her face. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her reluctant curiosity. “Do tell.”

  “I was visiting with the vicar.”

  She resisted the urge to laugh. Did he really think to impress her with such a ridiculous tale? “I see.”

  “You sound rather doubtful.”

  Katherine glanced with undisguised skepticism at the earl. “Pardon me for seeming so, but in all the tales I have

  heard of you, my lord, not one has mentioned your propensity for the religious.”

  “Did I not tell you it is unwise to listen to idle gossip?” Knowlton looked at her, his face full of wounded vanity. “I always make it a point to attend services when I am in residence at Warrenton. I feel it is my obligation to set an example for the lower orders.”

  Katherine’s eyes held a challenge. “Then I shall look forward to seeing you this Sunday,” she replied, thinking to trap him with his outlandish boasts.

  “I certainly hope so!” Knowlton smiled at his success in finally gaining a reaction from her. “I was speaking with the vicar about that very matter. I feel it incumbent upon me to visit him whenever I return, to remind him that I am now here and he can no longer get away with the boring drivel he spews from the pulpit during my absences.” Katherine’s lips twitched in suppressed amusement. “How do you know it is so dreadful if you are not here?” “I have my sources,” he said with a mysterious air. “The vicar knows that he dare not bore me, for whatever good example my attendance sets would be dashed to pieces if I fell asleep in the process.”

  “I am certain the vicar appreciates the challenge.”

  “I daresay he does.”

  All too soon, to Knowlton’s mind, they reached the gate of the Rose Cottage. How he would have liked to continue this conversation for another hour—preferably with Mrs. Mayfield in his carriage, not walking alongside it. But he congratulated himself on the progress he had made this day, and determined not to be too greedy for success. He must allay her apprehensions first.

  f “Perhaps next time you will not be so reluctant to accept my offer of transportation,” he said, watching her face carefully to see how she reacted to his suggestion. “Now that I have demonstrated my respectability to you.”

  It would take more than a few boastful remarks about a visit to the vicar to overcome his reputation, Katherine thought. “We shall see,” she said noncommittally. “Once again, I bid you good day.”

  Knowlton watched as she walked down the flagstone path to the cottage door. He resisted the impulse to laugh aloud. She was such a skittish thing, terrified of his reputation as

  a man no lady could feel safe with. Which was highly untrue. He knew any number of women who had never been forced to fend off an unwelcome advance from him.

  Of course, they were outnumbered entirely by those who had accepted the advance, or even begged for it, but that was not the point. He needed to convince Mrs. Mayfield she was perfectly safe with him. The fact that this was a total untruth did not bother him one whit. With a wide grin he urged the horses homeward. The pursuit of Mrs. May- field was already proving to be a delicious antidote to. boredom.

  Katherine set her basket down with a thunk on the kitchen table and struggled to untie the ribbons of her bonnet, which had become hopelessly tangled.

  Drat that man. She had sensed the danger from him at their first meeting, and he had done nothing to dispel that' image today. Oh, he had been as polite as could be, but she knew that behind that facade lurked a man who only ached to get his hands on her. He was just like all the others. She should have ignored him completely, instead of trading sallies. Why had she been so foolish?

  Because you wanted to be, a small voice said. Because despite the danger, you are intrigued by the man. And se-' cretly flattered that he finds you attractive.

  Katherine shut her eyes. It did not help in the least that Knowlton was a devastatingly handsome man. He had looked every inch the lord today in his polished Hessians, form-hugging pantaloons, and expertly tailored coat; quite a contrast to the muddy and disheveled man who had graced her parlor only a few days ago. But the look in those expressive gray eyes had not changed. The admiring gleam she saw there did nothing to dispel her apprehension.

  The years since Robert’s death had taught her to be increasingly wary of men. She had grown adept at politely fending off their advances. If a situation grew too intolerable, she moved. Now, she feared she was in the midst of her worst situation yet. It had been easy to turn up her nose at bumbling squires and lewd old lords. Now, for the first time, she found her pursuer dangerously attractive. And that would never do. She reminded herself she had a son to raise now, and there was no time for dreams. She must make it quite clear to Lord Knowlton that she held him in disinterest.

  She only hoped he would not see that for the lie it was.

  Chapter Four

  O, what a tangled web we weave,

  When first we practice, to deceive.

  —Scott, Marmion

  If Katherine found herself looking forward to the Sunday service with more than an ordinary interest, she assured herself it was mere curiosity over how the vicar would respond to Knowlton’s charge to improve his sermons. She told herself she was quite content not to see the earl again.

  After leading Robbie to an empty pew, Katherine noticed with a mixed twinge of disappointment and satisfaction that the earl was not in his box. All his talk of a public display of piety had been just that—talk. As she had suspected. Then she grew aware of the sudden hushed silence of the congregation. Trying to dismiss
the small thrill that raced through her, she slowly returned her gaze to the earl’s box. There he stood, surveying the assembly with an amused smile at the stir his presence created. He caught Katherine’s eye and gave her an ostentatious wink. She abruptly dropped her gaze to the hymnal in her hands, wishing she could hide her flaming cheeks. Drat that man!

  The service seemed to last for an interminable time. Katherine was unable to appreciate whether Knowlton’s talk had had any effect on the vicar, for her attention and her eyes kept straying to the lone man in the Beauchamp family box. She knew she could not allow the earl to disconcert her so, yet she felt powerless to control her thoughts. Even here in church, when her mind should be on holy matters, she was more aware of his clean, pure baritone singing “A Mighty Fortress Is Our God” than she was of the words of praise.

  When at last the congregation was dismissed, Katherine grabbed Robbie and nearly raced out of the church. She did not want to risk another encounter with the earl while her thoughts were so disordered. But Robbie darted from her side the moment they reached the steps, and she was forced to wait.

  “A most edifying sermon, I do declare.” Knowlton stepped up behind her, pitching his voice low so only she could hear. “Did you not find it so, Mrs. Mayfield?”

  Whirling to face him, Katherine did not miss the wicked twinkle in the earl’s eye.

  “Most edifying, my lord,” she replied, primly lowering her gaze.

  “I must say, I thought the vicar’s sermon incorporated a highly instructive lesson.” Knowlton smiled at her discomfort. She was not half so reluctant to be in his presence as she pretended, he knew. It provoked a desire to see how far he could push her. “It shall be a rare pleasure to listen to the next sermon if he continues in this manner.”

  “Perhaps the repeated exposure to such edifying thoughts will do you good,” she retorted, turning away abruptly. How dare he express his interest in her by blatantly striking up a conversation in full view of everyone in the parish? If her name ever became linked with Knowl- ton’s, her reputation would be in tatters. No single woman was deemed safe with him. Spotting the vicar and his wife at the church steps, Katherine hastened to join them.

  Knowlton determined not to allow Mrs. Mayfield to get the better of him this time. With quick steps he once again stood at her side.

  “Robbie has made a decided improvement in his Latin, Mrs. Mayfield,” the vicar said to Katherine. “I may make a scholar of him yet.”

  “He has been working very hard,” Katherine acknowledged, uncomfortably aware of Knowlton’s presence again.

  “Excellent sermon, vicar,” Knowlton interjected with an approving nod.

  The vicar beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, my lord. It is a pleasure to have you with us again.”

  “I think you will have that pleasure often,” Knowlton said, with a pointed glance at Katherine. “I have a mind to remain at Warrenton for some time. I find I am learning to enjoy the simpler pleasures of country life.”

  Katherine frantically glanced about, looking for her son. She could not leave without him, yet every moment she spent in the earl’s presence was torture. She nearly collapsed with relief when she heard Robbie’s voice. “I will tell him you are pleased at his progress, vicar. If you will excuse me . . .” She executed a brief curtsy and hurried toward her son.

  “I want to play with Sam,” Robbie announced.

  “You can see Sam another day,” Katherine said, hastening him toward the lane. “There are chores to be done at home. And I want you to gather blackberries for me today.”

  “But I wanted to—”

  “You will do as I say,” she snapped, and then instantly regretted her harsh words. It was not Robbie’s fault that the earl disconcerted her so. She would have to take greater care to avoid him next time. In a conciliatory tone she added, “If you pick berries for me as soon as we arrive home, you may have the rest of the afternoon free.”

  “All right,” he said grudgingly. He had secretly nourished hopes of being able to catch a ride in the earl’s curricle today. At least there would be time to walk over to Warrenton and maybe talk Knowlton or his groom into another ride in the paddock.

  The following morning, Knowlton stretched lazily in his bed, leaning back against the soft pillows. Country living was having a decidedly harmful influence on him—he felt downright slothful having slept so late. If he was not careful, he would soon be rising at farmer’s hours. And that would never do.

  With a resigned sigh he tossed back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. As if on cue, Rigsby, his valet, entered. Without a word he picked up Knowlton’s blue brocade robe and helped his master into it, then stood aside as Knowlton padded across the thickly carpeted floor into the bath chamber.

  It was the only improvement he had installed here at Warrenton, and was worth every penny, the earl thought. The bathing tub itself, fashioned from Italian marble, was large enough for two, as he had proved to his satisfaction more than once. However, it was not the tub itself but the newly installed shower bath of which Knowlton was most fond. The craftily arranged cistern in the attic, combined with the warming stove, provided ample hot water at his command. And there was something very refreshing about drenching oneself in water rather than soaking in it like a stewed chicken.

  A discreet knock came at the door while Knowlton toweled himself dry.

  “Young Robert is here, my lord,” Rigsby announced.

  “Has he been to the stables yet?”

  “I think not, my lord.”

  “Have him wait in the morning room, then,” said Knowlton, reaching for the clothing Rigsby had laid out on the bed. Smiling to himself as he dressed, Knowlton anticipated Robbie’s reaction to the new pony in the stable. He only hoped that Mrs. Mayfield would not cut up too strongly when she discovered the gift. He suspected she was not comfortable with her impecunious status, and would resent anything that she would consider charity. He would have to tread carefully to avoid alienating her.

  Knowlton dressed quickly in buckskin breeches and Hessians. Disdaining the formality of a cravat, he tied a simple Belcher scarf around his neck and shrugged himself into his chocolate-colored riding coat.

  He exited his room and hastened down the stairs, eager to see the young lad’s response to the surprise that awaited him. It would make up for the abominably boring afternoon Knowlton had spent yesterday at Squire Moreton’s acquiring the animal.

  “Good morning, Robbie,” Knowlton greeted, with a laughing glance at the plate of crumbs on the boy’s lap. “Breakfast?”

  Robbie rose to his feet, his face flushing. He gestured at the tea tray. “They brought this in . .

  “Excellent idea,” Knowlton agreed, taking a large bite of one of the spiced buns. He poured himself a cup of tea and took a seat facing Robbie. “I surmise you are here to continue your riding lessons.”

  Robbie vigorously nodded his head.

  “Did you finish your Latin this morning?”

  “Yes, sir. I did five whole pages.”

  “Admirable, admirable.” Knowlton nodded, privately thinking it a miserable task to set before an adventurous boy. It was a measure of Robbie’s respect for his mother that he had complied. Knowlton never would have.

  The earl quickly drained his cup, snatched another bun from the tray, and rose from his chair.

  “I had a slightly different plan today,” he explained to Robbie as they walked across the yard to the stables. “Alecto is not the perfect horse for one just learning to ride, so I thought—”

  “I know I will do better today,” Robbie interjected. “It is only . . . well, it was so high up and she’d never moved so fast before.”

  “And you performed with creditable skill. I am not taking you off her as punishment, Robbie.” Knowlton smiled gently. “I only thought a more suitable mount would speed your progress. Do not fear, I have no more a liking for slugs than you.”

  He paused before the stable entrance, peering
into the darkened corridor.

  “Shall I bring the new ’un out?” Frank asked.

  Knowlton nodded. “But not saddled or bridled. The lad needs to learn that task as well.”

  Robbie’s eyes grew wide as Frank reappeared with a horse that looked every bit as lively as Alecto but a great deal smaller.

  “Does he have a name?”

  “He has none,” Knowlton replied. “I thought you would perhaps wish to name him.”

  “Should it be Greek or Latin?” Robbie asked, tentatively reaching out to stroke the chestnut pony’s nose.

  Knowlton shrugged. “I always believe the master should name his own horse.”

  “He is mine?” Robbie’s eyes widened in wonderment.

  The earl grinned. “Now, what use would I have for a horse this size? Granted, he has a good deal of spirit and I daresay he could hold his own with nearly any mount in the stable. But I fear it would be a comical sight with my legs dangling near the ground.”

  “Really mine?”

  “Really.”

  The sunny look that had brightened Robbie’s face suddenly faded. “But. . . but Mama will not approve, my lord. I know we cannot afford to keep a horse. Thank you very much, anyway.”

  “Now, would I make a gift of something and expect you to pay for it?” Knowlton chided his young guest. “As long as he resides in my stable, he is entitled to my hospitality.” “Mama will still say no,” Robbie reiterated. “She does not wish me to join the cavalry.”

  “Not every lad who rides joins the cavalry,” Knowlton explained. He hesitated over his next words. “I think, Robbie, there is no need for your mother to know about this present. She really would not understand, would she?” Robbie grinned at the earl’s conspiratorial tone. He understood what a deuced bother mamas could be at times. “I think that is a capital idea.”