The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  Katherine was grateful that Knowlton remained in the curricle while she raced about the cottage, gathering up the clothing and items she and Robbie would need for an extended stay at Warrenton. She was still apprehensive about the matter, not completely trusting Knowlton to behave himself, nor completely trusting herself to be in such close proximity to him for any length of time. She had already learned how easily he could overcome her defenses, and she would have to take great care to stay as far from him as possible. Fortunately, since she would be busy with Robbie, that would not prove too difficult. She hoped.

  “Lord Wentworth has written to his lady, to ask her to come and stay,” Knowlton told her on the drive back to Warrenton. “I think you will enjoy her company. She will be busy with her young daughter, but I imagine you will have some time to talk together. You are very close in age, I believe.”

  “We are ruining your shooting party,” she said with dismay.

  He shrugged. “ ’Twill not be much disruption. I fully intend to ignore the presence of you ladies until the evening meal. Does that set your mind at rest?”

  She smiled. “It does, my lord. Although I hope Lady Wentworth does not mind having to come.”

  “Somers assures me she will not. He claims that as long as she can dote on her daughter without interference, she will be content in any location.”

  She could not stifle her laugh.

  “Yes?” he arched a brow.

  “It will undoubtedly be an interesting experience for you, I am certain, to have your house overrun with children.” “I hardly think one lad in a splint and a toddling child will have much power to disrupt my household,” he said.

  “We shall see.”

  The first week at Warrenton sped by with rapidity. Katherine and Mrs. Ashe sat together in Robbie’s room, sewing and talking quietly while he lay abed. Knowlton, despite his plan to ignore both Robbie and his mother, dropped by several times each day to ascertain that they were managing well. Both Katherine and Mrs. Ashe preferred to eat with Robbie, and they saw little of Knowlton’s guests.

  By the end of the week, after several days of unwanted rain put a damper on the hunting, matters changed. Lord Wentworth was the first to pop his head into the room.

  “Thought I would see how the lad is getting along,” he said. “Bored to flinders yet, Robbie?”

  Robbie glanced at his mother, as if wondering what she wished him to say. She nodded in encouragement.

  “Only a bit, sir. Mama and Mrs. Ashe are doing all they can to engage my interest.”

  “But it is not enough for a lively lad stuck in bed, is it? Do you play chess?”

  Robbie shook his head.

  “Then I shall teach you,” Lord Wentworth assured him. “Knowlton must have a set around here somewhere. If you do not mind, Mrs. Mayfield?”

  “Goodness, no,” Katherine replied, pleased that Robbie would have the opportunity.

  Yet it was Knowlton who appeared half an hour later, carrying not a chess set, but a backgammon game.

  “I know there is a chess set somewhere in the house,” he said by way of apology, “but it will take a bit longer to locate it. We will start with backgammon.”

  Katherine smiled uneasily. This was precisely the situation she had wished to avoid during their enforced stay at Warrenton. But her dismay was replaced by gratitude as Knowlton studiously ignored her. He patiently taught Robbie the rules of the game, and played with him for over an hour, until it became obvious Robbie was tiring.

  Katherine walked Knowlton to the corridor. “Thank you so much for entertaining Robbie.”

  “He is a bright lad,” he said. “When I find that blasted chess set, I am certain he will learn as quickly.”

  “And what will come next?” she asked in a teasing voice. “Whist?”

  “A capital idea!” Knowlton returned her teasing. “Drummond lived for a time on his skill with the cards. He will prove a most instructive teacher.”

  Katherine shuddered in mock horror. “I hate to think what other skills your guests are qualified to teach.”

  “Only those suitable to a ten-year-old,” Knowlton promised.

  “He will enjoy the company,” Katherine admitted. “He has already grown bored with my efforts, I fear.”

  “We will soon chase away his boredom,” Knowlton promised. He caught her gaze, his eyes twinkling. “But whatever shall we do to relieve your boredom, Mrs. Mayfield? A stroll in the garden, perhaps?”

  Katherine paused. She had hoped that this sojourn at Warrenton would pass in an unexceptional manner. Knowlton would keep to his friends; she would tend to Robbie in the isolation of his room. As long as they were not forced into close contact, she could deal with Knowlton. But his words, his nearness, brought back in a rush all the memories of the feel of his body pressed close to hers as they exchanged kisses in the garden. She saw his gray eyes coolly watching her, as if he could discern her thoughts, and her cheeks grew redder. Knowlton was becoming far, far too dangerous for her to deal with. Precisely because she was losing her will to fight against him. Avoidance was her only defense.

  “I shall suggest that to Mrs. Ashe,” she said, consciously stiffening. “Perhaps this afternoon we shall act upon your suggestion.”

  Knowlton bowed graciously, but Katherine saw the flicker of disappointment that crossed his eyes. She must keep firm in her resolve.

  The elusive chess set was finally unearthed and the following day Lord Wentworth began teaching the game to Robbie. His visit was soon followed by appearances by the other men of the party: the flirtatious Seb Cole, who struck Katherine as a rogue of Knowlton’s ilk, the rakish, widowed Duke of Hartford, who talked proudly of his own son away at school, and the rather aloof Viscount Drummond, who managed to look cynical and sad at the same time. Katherine marveled at their patience as they taught Robbie chess and whist, regaled him with stories of valor and glory at Waterloo, and generally inspired hero worship to rival Robbie’s feelings for Knowlton. And they never once made her uncomfortable with unwanted attentions.

  Lady Wentworth arrived in due time, in a carriage Knowlton laughingly insisted was crammed to the roof with baby paraphernalia. He did not miss the eagerness with which Somers leapt to his feet at the announcement of her arrival. Knowlton shook his head in dismay. Somers was well and truly caught.

  Despite all Knowlton’s intentions, the presence of Lady Wentworth altered the nature of the previously idyllic bachelor retreat. Whereas Kate and the vicar’s wife had remained upstairs, Lady Wentworth joined the men for dinner most nights. That forced the gentlemen to be on their better behavior, and the easygoing bachelor life of their first week in residence reformed itself into a more restrained atmosphere. Lady Wentworth graciously stayed out of the way as much as possible, but the mere fact of her existence disrupted the household. Knowlton was not surprised when the duke cornered him in the library one morning.

  “I cannot say that it was not entertaining, Knowlton, but it is time to be gone.” Hartford extended his hand.

  “Ladies driving you away, eh?”

  “More a reminder of what is waiting back in London,” the duke replied. “One of the most delectable morsels I have had in years. Good thing you were here in the country when she made her debut, else you would have tried to snap her up.”

  “You can only be glad I was here,” Knowlton replied. “Else she would not have taken a second glance at you.”

  “But I am a duke,” Hartford protested loftily.

  “But I am Knowlton.”

  They both burst into laughter.

  “Take care, Hart, on the journey home. And I promise that the spring shoot will be more convivial.”

  Knowlton sighed as his friend left the room. Hart gone today; Cole and Drummond would not be far behind. He was now struck with entertaining the Wentworths, whose cozy domesticity was rapidly growing tiresome. Knowlton had been more than startled by Somers’ defection from the bachelor ranks, but this new role of blissfully besotted husb
and shook Knowlton to the core. Somers, with whom he had drunk, gamed, and wenched for years, was becoming an unknown quantity. Knowlton could not help but harbor a bit of resentment against Lady Wentworth. She was an admirable lady, strikingly lovely, intelligent, and witty, yet she had brought his closest friend to such a pass.

  One thing for certain, he was going to have to drag Kate out of her seclusion and into the drawing room. The thought of spending the evening in the sole company of the Wentworths while they made calf’s eyes at each other, was more than he could stomach. If Kate joined them, they could at least play cards or drum up some other diversionary program.

  Besides, he looked forward to spending more time in her company. He had remained studiously circumspect these last two weeks, playing the correct host and never overstepping the bounds of propriety. With three other bachelors in the house, he dared not do else. Now that only Somers and his lady were left, he could lower his guard a bit. There would be no word of gossip from the Wentworths. While he would not take full advantage of Kate’s presence in his home, it would take more of a saint than he to continue to ignore her. He had come too far not to press for her final capitulation. Despite that trip to Nottingham, he found his body ached for her as much as ever.

  Knowlton set about advancing his scheme on the very morning his other guests departed, bounding up the stairs to the invalid’s room as soon as the last carriage cleared the drive. Robbie, his recuperation far enough along that he was back working on the dreaded Latin, was frowning over his books while his mother sat near the window, reading.

  “If you will excuse your mother, Robbie, I have a matter I should like to discuss with her.”

  Robbie nodded glumly. It made no difference whether his mother was in the room or not; he would have to finish his Latin.

  “I hope you do not want to ring a peal over me for driving all your guests away,” Katherine said when she joined him in the hall. “I am truly sorry.”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “They rarely stay longer than this. Too many other amusements to draw their attention.”

  “Are we keeping you from your diversions as well?” Not for long, he hoped. “I fear there has been a sad want of requests for my presence this fall,” he said with a rueful expression. “I had planned to stay here at least until the start of the new year, so you have not overset my plans.”

  “I am glad.”

  “I am certain you have grown tired of your confinement in that room,” he continued. “Now that there are no debauched males lurking in the hallways, I wish you would make yourself at home in the house.”

  “I fear your guests were so gracious at entertaining Robbie that he will be suffering from increased fits of boredom if I do not keep him close company.”

  “Nonsense. He is a sensible lad and knows he cannot rely on you for constant amusement. I think it is high time that you began to act as a proper guest.”

  She eyed him cautiously. “And how does a proper guest act?”

  “She joins her host in the drawing room in the evening, for conversation and companionship,” he said. “And allows herself to be taken for a tour of the house. You have been here for over a fortnight and have yet to see more than a fraction of Warrenton. It is enough to make a more sensitive man take offense.”

  Katherine could not resist him when he was determined to be charming. She told herself she would be safe with him; she had his promise that he would not misbehave while she was under his roof. He had behaved admirably up until now; there was no reason to think he would alter his behavior.

  “I would very much like to see your home,” she said. He took her hand in his and led her along the corridor to the wide, curving staircase that rose from the ground floor. “From the cellars to the attic, or from highest to lowest?”

  “I hardly think I need to peruse the attics or the cellars,” Katherine replied.

  He shrugged. “Do not complain, then, that I gave you less than a thorough inspection.”

  Knowlton rushed Katherine through most rooms, giving her an almost self-deprecating tour, as if he felt embarrassed at being the owner of such a magnificent estate. She stopped him occasionally to linger over a fine piece of furniture or a collection of curios, but she mostly let him have his way until they reached the portrait gallery. There she forced him to slow and explain each and every painting.

  “I do not know who half these people are,” he protested. “Then you should,” she retorted. “Show me the family, at least.”

  He led her past an endless array of portraits, starting, inexplicably, with his grandfather, the seventh earl.

  “Gambler,” Knowlton explained. “Lost and won the family fortune several times over.”

  “I trust he was on the winning side when he passed on.” “Most assuredly. He’d just won ten thousand pounds at a game, stood up from the table, and dropped dead. My grandmother always claimed it was by the grace of God or he would have lost it all the next night.”

  Katherine gave him a sidelong look.

  “Now, this rogue,” he continued, pointing to a man with the long curls of Charles II’s age, “was a crony of Lord Rochester’s.”

  “Who was he?”

  Knowlton stifled a smile. “One of the minor poets.” “He must be very minor; I have heard naught of him.” “He was not prolific,” Knowlton admitted. “And his poems were mostly circulated privately.”

  Katherine could only guess at what scurrilous scribbling his ancestor’s friend had prepared. “Were any of your ancestors respectable?”

  Knowlton laughed. “I doubt it. There seems to be a streak of misbehavior that rims from father to son.” “Where is the portrait of your father?”

  “I had it removed.”

  Katherine busied herself with studying the next portrait. Another clue to the mystery that made up Knowlton. For despite his reputation, Katherine was beginning to understand that there was a far more complex man lurking behind the rakish facade than he let on. That was the man she wanted to know.

  “What of the women in your family?” she asked loftily. “Whatever possessed them to align their lives with such a packet of rapscallions?”

  “Need you ask?” His gray eyes twinkled mischievously. Knowlton took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb across her upstretched fingers. “We Beauchamps are decidedly impossible to resist.”

  “Are you so certain of that, my lord?”

  An amused smile flitted across his lips. “Would you care to put the matter to a test?” His fingers tightened on hers.

  Katherine looked into his eyes, trying to capture a glimpse of what he really thought. Did he truly believe he was irresistible to any woman? Or did he only think she was less than firm in her resistance? Had he sensed the doubts and longings that plagued her?

  They stood for long minutes, their gazes locked together, without moving and barely breathing. Katherine knew that one step forward would take her into his arms, and her will wavered. But still she stood her ground.

  Knowlton brought her hand to his lips, brushing them softly against her fingers, while his eyes never left hers. His expression was enigmatic; Katherine saw neither desire nor pleading there. Only curiosity.

  A voice echoed down the long, paneled corridor and broke their concentration.

  “Shall we call it a draw—for now?” Knowlton asked, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

  Katherine nodded silently. He placed her hand on his arm and led her from the room.

  Chapter Ten

  And for marriage I have neither the talent nor the inclination.

  —Byron

  If Katherine had been honest with herself, she would have taken Robbie that very day and fled not from the mansion, but from the entire neighborhood, without a backward glance. She knew she was playing with fire, but like the moth drawn to the flame, she could not tear herself away.

  So instead of quietly remaining in Robbie’s room in the evening, she allowed herself to be drawn into the convivial atmosphere of t
he drawing room, playing whist or other card games with Knowlton and the Wentworths. Often Katherine remained with Knowlton after the others retired for the night. He made no overt physical approach toward her, but his mere presence in the room was enough; she was acutely aware of his every move and look. She often caught him watching her with a knowing smile on his lips, which brought a flush to her cheeks.

  And if his presence discomfited her, it also lured her into more and more intimate discussions. More than once they talked long into the night, Knowlton almost eagerly revealing more and more of himself to her.

  “I am no saint,” he said to her one evening.

  “I would not have thought to label you such,” she replied dryly. “But why veer so far in the opposite direction? You are not an evil person.”

  “Why?” He shrugged. “I think it is much easier to lead

  a life of debauchery than to walk the straight and narrow. And it is infinitely more entertaining.”

  “Does it not bother you to have such a dreadful reputation?”

  “I have found that there is nothing more alluring to the ladies than a dreadful reputation.” Knowlton’s face creased in a self-satisfied smile.

  “I do not understand the reasoning behind that. Why would any woman be interested in a man who she knows will treat her only as a casual interest?”

  “Perhaps because that is all they wish from him.”

  She sighed. She had hoped to gain some insight into her own attraction to the earl, but his explanations did not enlighten her. Casual dalliance was not a thing she favored. “I am afraid that I simply do not understand the ton.” “You are operating under a severe handicap,” he explained with an amused smirk. “You were one of those rare creatures who actually had a marriage based on love. Many couples do not, and therefore think little of casting their vows aside for a bit of fun.”