“Yes?”
A roguish twinkle lit his eyes. “It was a very lovely kiss.”
Katherine’s cheeks flamed as he took his leave, a broad grin upon his face. He had done it again—disarmed her completely, then struck with lightning speed. Drat the man!
Knowlton’s grin fingered for most of the ride home. How he loved to bring the color to her cheeks. She blushed more prettily than any woman he knew. He had noticed her studied casualness in her treatment of him, knew she was remembering their last encounter the entire time he nattered on about Robbie and the pony. He had not been able to resist that little reminder, just to make certain she knew he had not forgotten it either.
Lord, he was glad he had availed himself of that bouncy barmaid in Nottingham. There were limits to what one man could endure, and he had reached it long ago. That simple kiss in the garden had shaken him more than he could ever have imagined. He was quite certain he had the delectable
Kate Mayfield wavering, but a precipitate move on his part could still scare her into flight. With his hunger assuaged, he could now behave with a modicum of restraint until he had her willing acquiescence.
He honestly did regret her refusal to allow Robbie to participate in the shooting party. He genuinely liked the lad. Yet he agreed with Mrs. Mayfield’s concerns: he had no intention of staying forever at Warrenton, and Robbie would have to realize that eventually. Knowlton had noticed with growing dismay the worshipful way Robbie regarded him. It was flattering and frightening at the same time. His gradual withdrawal from the boy’s life would be the best thing. But how was he to reconcile that with his pursuit of the mother?
Quite simply, Robbie needed to be out of the way. He was old enough for school, and it would do him good to be with more lads of his own age and class. Samuel Trent was a spirited lad, but a farmer’s son was not the best companion for Robbie. He came from gentry stock at the least, and in spite of their poverty, he should be consorting with those of his own kind.
Knowlton was certain, however, that Mrs. Mayfield did not have the funds to send Robbie away to school. That would be the problem he must tackle. He knew her pride would not allow him to finance such an endeavor—even if it was not uncommon for a noble to finance several charity students at the premier schools. Somehow, he would have to find a way to provide her with the means to purchase the lad’s education without letting her know it came from him.
Then, with Robbie away, he could avail himself of the widow’s charms without restraint. The Rose Cottage would make an admirable love nest. Cheered by the thought that his designs might yet succeed, he broke into most ignoble whistling.
Katherine watched Robbie with sympathy as he moped about the house. He had deeply resented her order that he stay away from Warrenton while Knowlton entertained his shooting party. Even moving his pony to the makeshift stall in the shed had not improved his disposition. It worried her, for it showed that he had grown as attached to the earl as she had feared. And that would never do.
“Why don’t you see if there are any late apples left on the trees?” she suggested helpfully. “I could bake a pie for dinner.”
“They are probably all gone,” he grumbled.
“We will not know for certain until you look,” she reminded him. “Put on your coat and take the basket. And do not get yourself dirty!”
She watched his reluctant form as he ambled down the walk. Once again, she was filled with regret—and doubt. Had she chosen the fife that was best for him? As he grew older, she grew less certain. Their lack of funds grew more critical the older he became. Lessons with the vicar would suffice for only so long. How much easier it would be for the both of them if she had the money to pay for Robbie’s schooling. She had heard the tales of the horror of scholarship life, the boys no better than unpaid slaves to the other students. Katherine did not want a life like that for Robbie. She determined that there would be no Eton or Harrow for him under those circumstances.
But the price that would be exacted for the money to send him off properly had been too much for her to pay six years ago, and she still thought it was too heavy a burden now. She could delay a final decision for a few more years. Perhaps there would be some miracle in the intervening time . . .
She shook her head wistfully. Her father would have reprimanded her for thinking of so worldly a miracle as money to send a boy to school. But she did not think the miracles of holy angels would be of much use to her. There were other schools, with endowed openings, that would put Robbie on the same standing as the paying students. It was time she began to investigate these matters.
At least with Robbie out of the house today, she could finish with her fall cleaning. There were only the upstairs bedrooms to finish, and the cottage would be gleaming from top to bottom. Then she would have to devise some other project to occupy her time. There was little extra sewing at this time of the year, and matters would not improve for another month. Yet it was a glorious relief not to have to sew more lace and trimmings on the elegant gowns that she could never afford for herself.
She had just succeeded in turning the mattress in Robbie’s room, noticing the increasing lumps in the matting feathers and knowing she did not have the funds to purchase a new one, when a strange male voice hailed her from below.
“Mrs. Mayfield?”
She came down the stairs warily. A disheveled but expensively clad man stood in the front hall.
“Mrs. Mayfield?”
She nodded.
“Lord Knowlton sent me, from Warrenton. We were out shooting and there has been an accident. Your son—”
“Robbie?” she gasped, a wave of dizziness sweeping over her. “Shot?”
“Oh, good God.” The man scowled. “I am making a mull of this. Your son has a broken leg, ma’am, from falling off his horse. Knowlton took him up to the house, sent for the doctor, and dispatched me to bring you to Warrenton.”
“I will come at once,” she said rapidly, tearing off her mobcap and darting into the kitchen to grab her cloak.
By sheer force of will, Katherine forced down her panic. Robbie would be all right, she told herself as she followed Knowlton’s guest to the waiting curricle. It was only a broken leg. Boys broke their legs all the time and suffered no lasting harm. But the calming words had minimal impact.
She sat quietly on the rapid carriage ride to Warrenton, only her firmly clenched hands betraying her anxiety. She was grateful the man beside her was disinclined to speak. Katherine did not think she could have carried on a conversation if her life had depended upon it.
She was poised to leap from the carriage before it came to a clattering halt at the bottom of Warrenton’s steps. Throwing a grateful thank-you over her shoulder, she jumped from the coach and raced up the stone steps. Knowlton’s imperious butler awaited her at the front door and ushered her quickly up the stairs.
Robbie looked so small in the massive canopied bed, eyes closed, long streaks marking the path of his tears across his dirty face. Knowlton sat beside him, Robbie’s small hand clutched protectively in his.
“Robbie.” Her voice came out as a choked whisper.
“Mama?”
Knowlton stood up, motioning her to take his place and placing Robbie’s hand in hers. “The doctor should be here at any moment,” he said quietly, then retreated to the far side of the room.
Katherine reached out and brushed back the hair from Robbie’s forehead. “You are being a very brave boy,” she said. “I know it must hurt dreadfully.”
He nodded. “I cried, a little,” he confessed, and those very words brought the tears back to his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Hush,” she said. “Do not worry about anything now. Is it only your leg that hurts?”
“My head hurts a bit too,” he said. “And my side.”
She felt under his hair, flinching when he winced at her touch. There was a nasty bump.
“What happened?”
“Atlas heard the shooting and he got scar
ed and started to run and I ... I fell off.”
“And were you not told to stay away from Warrenton while there was shooting?” the earl asked sternly.
Robbie nodded.
“We will talk about that later,” Katherine said, surprised that the earl chastised Robbie. Did he fear she would hold him at fault?
“The doctor is here,” Knowlton announced after looking out the window. “I will bring him up.”
An hour later, Katherine again sat next to Robbie, his small hand curled securely in hers, while she watched him sleep. As soon as the preliminary examination was finished, the doctor had given him laudanum to deaden the pain of splinting his leg. Now Robbie lay with his leg straight and bandaged. The bump on his head was little more than that, and his ribs were only bruised. He had been very fortunate, if “fortunate” could describe the plight of an active ten- year-old who was to be confined to his bed for several weeks. It would not be difficult at first, but as he convalesced and the pain eased, Katherine knew it would be a taxing experience, for both her and Robbie. He would grow to loathe his small room at the cottage, and she knew her days would be an endless succession of trips up and down the stairs as she sought to do her own work while she kept Robbie entertained.
291
“Is he asleep?” Knowlton’s voice was soft as he slipped quietly into the room.
She nodded. “The doctor said he will probably not awaken until tonight. He wishes to keep him dosed with laudanum for a day or two until the pain subsides.”
“He was a brave little boy,” Knowlton said.
“How did you find him?”
“Purely by chance. We had achieved little success in the upper field and were heading toward the comer when Somers—Lord Wentworth, the man who brought you here—noticed Atlas wandering about.”
“I feared something like this would happen if he began riding.”
“You cannot protect him from everything, Katherine. I do feel at fault, for I had not thought that blasted pony would be so skittish. I never would have wished Robbie harm.”
“I know,” she replied, and gave him a comforting smile.
“Are you comfortable? I can have a tea tray sent up.”
“Thank you, that would be nice. Would it be a dreadful imposition for me to beg the use of your carriage to take Robbie home? I thought he would be easier moved after his next dose—”
“Absolutely not,” he said sternly. “I talked with the doctor and he made it very clear that Robbie was not to be moved about.”
“But I must take him home,” she said. “We cannot stay here. You have done enough, for which I am grateful.”
Their eyes met and he saw the apprehension in hers. Damn! Did she think he would dare to take advantage of the situation?
“I will take care of matters,” he said noncommittally, then rose from his chair. “The tray will be sent up.”
Katherine nodded and looked back to the pain-etched face of her sleeping son. How lucky they had been. She brushed his tousled hair back from his forehead.
Knowlton’s sincere concern for Robbie’s welfare touched her. She remembered all his past kindnesses to her son, and her often ungrateful responses. She might justifiably question Knowlton’s interest in her, but they both seemed to be of the same mind regarding Robbie. And as her
knowledge of Knowlton increased, her power to resist him weakened. Katherine rightly feared the close proximity remaining in his house would entail. It was well, then, that she would be taking her son home tonight.
Chapter Nine
What is virtue but a calculation of the consequences of our actions?
—Mary Hays, Memoirs of Emma Courtney
After arranging for tea and some food to be sent up to Mrs. Mayfield, Knowlton went in search of Lord Wentworth, finding him alone in the study. The other guests were still tramping through the fields.
“Is there any chance your lovely lady would be willing to join you here, Somers?” Knowlton asked, his voice fight. “The doctor has recommended that the lad not be moved until the leg heals, yet it is a highly improper situation for his mother to remain in a bachelor household. She is determined they leave, and I cannot help but feel it would not be good for the lad.”
“Elizabeth would come in a moment—if she can bring
Caro.”
Knowlton winced. “I suppose it is too much to hope that your lovely daughter is one of those quiet children who never exercise their lungs?”
Somers laughed. “The vain hopes of a confirmed bachelor. I shall let you in on a secret, my friend. The main reason to have one of these monstrously large houses is that you can tuck the infants into a far corner. Out of sight, out of hearing. Distance works wonders.”
Knowlton sighed. “I will allow the chit, only on the con-
dition that word of her presence does not leak out. Too many ladies would see it as a sign of hope.”
“Little do they know that there is nothing better to encourage a man in his bachelorhood than exposure to a small child.”
“That bad?” Knowlton lifted a sympathetic brow. Somers shook his head. “I am afraid to say I was captivated from the first moment I saw her. You cannot know the feeling, to hold your own child in your arms, to know that you had a hand in her creation. It is an awe-inspiring experience.” He clapped Knowlton lightly on the shoulder. “We shall have to get you married off one of these days, so you can discover it firsthand.”
“Spare me that joy.” Knowlton gave a mock shudder. Somers laughed. “I will write to Elizabeth.”
“I shall dispatch a groom today.” He eyed his friend hopefully. “Do you think she can be here within a week?” “Of a certainty. She was rather put out at my leaving in the first place, so I am assured she will be willing of an early reconciliation.”
“Under the cat’s paw already?”
Somers raised a knowing brow. “Someday, my friend, I hope you will understand,” he said enigmatically, and seated himself at the desk to pen his letter.
Knowlton stared out the window while Somers prepared his missive. Marriage had wrought a change in his friend, and he could not say whether it was for good or ill. Still, Somers was barely two years into his marriage, and the thrill of new fatherhood had yet to wear off. What tune would Somers sing five years hence?
As soon as the letter was finished, Knowlton rang for a footman and ordered its delivery. Now, if Lady Wentworth cooperated, he only had to protect Kate’s reputation for a week. Knowlton realized he should ride to the vicar’s and see if Mrs. Ashe would be willing to play duenna.
What a laughable situation. He had been scheming for weeks to get Kate into his arms, and his bed. And now here he was, presented with a perfect opportunity, with her son’s sickroom a hairbreadth away from his, and he felt obligated to treat her with all the honor and respect he would pay any noble guest. It would be intolerably funny if it was not going to be so damn difficult.
Mrs. Ashe was perfectly willing to settle for a time at Warrenton, agreeing with Knowlton that the boy should remain where he was. Knowlton returned home with a lighter heart, knowing he could forestall Kate’s every argument. Robbie’s recovery was of the utmost importance. He was certain he and Kate could adjust to the awkward situation. Besides, she would be preoccupied with her son and he had his own guests to entertain. They would see little of each other.
“Everything is arranged,” he announced as he slipped into the room. Robbie still slept his drugged sleep.
“Thank you, my lord.” Katherine smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your efforts. I shall let you know when I give Robbie his next dose. He should be ready to travel within half an hour of that.”
“Mrs. Ashe will be arriving within the hour to play propriety for you, Mrs. Mayfield. There is no need for you to disturb your son. You may stay as long as the doctor thinks is necessary for Robbie’s leg to heal properly.”
Katherine surveyed him with dismay. “Is it not rather presumptuous of you to have arranged such a thi
ng?”
“I am doing what is best for Robbie, which is what we both desire. If you take him home, apart from the danger of the journey and the struggle to get him into his room, have you thought about the effect it will have on you? To play nursemaid for him as well as perform all your other duties at home?” Knowlton struggled to rein in his real anger. “Here you need to do nothing beyond sit with him for as long as you like. Your meals will be prepared for you, your laundry will be washed, your every whim accommodated. I think you would be a fool to leave.”
“You would.” Her blue eyes filled with anger.
Knowlton walked over to the window, his arms folded across his chest. He looked out over the lawn for some time in silence, then turned and leaned against the sill. He had created this awkward situation between them, and however much he regretted the need, he knew he must reassure her.
“I wish you to know that I will remain out of your way,” he stated. The promise pained him, but he knew it was the only way he could convince her to stay. “You need not fear that I will be anything but a gracious host.”
She studied him for a moment. Could she trust him?
Better yet, could she trust herself to remain under the same roof and not fall further under his spell? It was a risky proposition. But with Robbie’s health uppermost in her mind, it was a chance she would have to take. “Thank you,” she said at last.
“Then it is agreed? You and Robbie will stay?” He cringed at the eagerness in his voice.
“We will stay,” she agreed. “But I shall need to return home, to pack some things.”
“I will take you now. My housekeeper can sit with Robbie until you return.”
The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow Page 32
