The Defiant Miss Foster & A Highly Respectable Widow

by Melinda McRae

  When at last the countess announced that Katherine simply must accompany her to London, she could not bring herself to refuse. Particularly since Robbie had been begging her with every breath to return to the fascination of the city. With children and tutor in tow, they made the journey.

  Knowlton grimaced with relief as his carriage clattered down the driveway. He had endured enough country parties to last him for the remainder of his life. The forced conviviality of the drawing room before dinner drove him mad, the mad scramble for partners in the long hours between dinner and bed grew tedious. Even cold, dirty, midwinter London held a greater appeal. In the house at Upper Brook Street, he could lock himself away for days at a time without fear of interruption. If he went a week without seeing another face, he would not complain.

  His face twisted into a grimace. Holidays were an intolerable invention. The insistence on trying to outdo all others in Christmas cheerfulness escaped his understanding. There was not much to be gay about during this dark time of the year, when one was tucked away in some damp, cold house in some wretched corner of the country, where the chimneys smoked, the ladies giggled inanely, and the food was bland. He should have stayed at Warrenton.

  But it was precisely Warrenton he wanted to avoid when he had ill-advisedly accepted all those invitations in December. He did not want to spend any more time in the empty corridors, with the ghost of Kate still haunting them the way she haunted his mind. In the company of other revelers, surely he would easily forget her.

  Yet even in the midst of the largest groups, his thoughts often strayed to her, quite against his will. At the oddest moments something would trigger his memory, and images of Kate would torture his mind. Her embarrassment when he had bared his chest in front of her at harvest. Her gentle chiding over his past excesses when they talked long into the night at Warrenton. That first, lingering kiss in the garden.

  Never had a woman so filled his mind for such a length of time. Usually women were nothing more than amusing creatures who provided entertainment and pleasure and then were forgotten as quickly as they had come. But Kate . . .

  It was her abrupt departure from Warrenton, the long weeks of worry and anger, and the final discovery of her subterfuge that so embellished her memory. She was the first woman in years to have refused him, and he theorized it was that which made her so unforgettable. Had matters run their normal course, he would have grown tired of her and brought their liaison to an end. The fact that she had ended it, before it had barely begun, rankled.

  He shrugged. Ah, well. London lay at the end of the road, a city full of the most beautiful and willing women in the world. He was bound to find another to capture his fancy before more than a few days passed. His attempts last year had been too halfhearted. This time he would find a lady who could drive even the memory of his own name from his brain.

  The difference between the Little Season last fall and the full Season of the spring quickly became evident to Katherine. Invitations arrived at St. James Square in a never-ending stream. She thought that by staying with the marquess she would draw little attention, but those she had met in the fall were eager to see her again and those who had not were curious about the widow. Katherine limited her attendance to those events that either the marquess or the Durhams graced with their presence. She was determined to preserve the mantle of respectability she had paid for so dearly.

  Katherine inwardly groaned when she saw Castalia bearing down on her at Lady Winthrop’s musicale. She had hoped to spend at least one night free from her sister-in- law’s matchmaking. Be it musicale or rout, Castalia never abandoned any opportunity to present Katherine with promising suitors.

  “Katherine, dear, I would like you to meet Lord Belton.”

  Castalia grabbed Katherine’s hand and virtually dragged her across the carpeted music room. “He is a viscount, dreadfully plump in the pockets, and most polite.”

  “He sounds irresistible,” Katherine said through gritted teeth.

  “Belton! How nice to see you this evening. A sad crush, is it not?” Castalia beamed in anticipation. “I must make you known to my sister-in-law, Lady Robert Mayfield. Poor Robert was killed in the Peninsula, you know, leaving Katherine alone with a small child.” Castalia attempted to stiffle a sigh. “Katherine has done such a marvelous job raising the lad on her own, but we are well pleased she has joined us in London at last.”

  Katherine turned three shades of red at Castalia’s ridiculous babbling. It made her sound like some bedraggled heroine in a poorly written tragedy. She simply must have a long talk with her sister-in-law.

  “Lady Robert.” Belton bowed low in greeting.

  “My lord.” Katherine fitted a polite social smile on her face. He looked exactly as one of Castalia’s candidates would—conservative dress, a pleasing but not overly handsome countenance, and an aura of placid respectability.

  “Oh, there is Lady Wallace. I must speak with her.” With a wave of her fan, Castalia flitted across the room.

  Katherine dared to raise her eyes to Lord Belton’s and was struck by the look of amusement in the blue depths.

  “I am afraid Lady Durham is—”

  “As transparent as a sheet of glass?” Lord Belton offered.

  They broke into shared laughter.

  “She almost had me wishing to make a donation to the poor widows’ fund,” Katherine confessed, taking a closer look at the viscount. His light-brown hair was nearly the shade Robert’s had been. “I pray that you will not hold her dramatics against me, my lord.”

  “Not at all. I have known Lady Durham long enough to know to discount three-quarters of what she says. However, one must pay attention to the other quarter. You have a son, then? How old is he?”

  “Eleven,” Katherine replied.

  “And probably a bundle of mischief, if I remember life at that age,” Lord Belton said kindly.

  Katherine smiled. “That he is. But I am certain you do not wish to hear of my son, my lord. Are you in town for business or pleasure?”

  “I am not certain,” he said. “I came up last week for an auction, intending to stay for only a short while, but I might have reason to reconsider that plan.”

  Katherine vainly fought against her blush at the appreciative look she saw in his eyes. “What type of auction did you attend?”

  “A book sale. An unfortunate gentleman outspent his income and was selling off his library.”

  “You must be a collector of books, then.” Katherine relaxed slightly. There was something comforting in such an innocuous endeavor.

  He smiled. “ ‘Collector’ may be too formal a term. ‘Accumulator’ is more apt. I do not have many rare or fine works, but I like them all the same.”

  “Do you collect books on special topics?”

  Belton shook his head. “Whatever strikes my fancy, I am afraid. Or whatever is offered for sale. But certainly, Lady Robert, you did not plan to discuss books when you attended a musicale. Did you enjoy the soloist?”

  “I own I am rather indifferent to operatic airs,” she admitted with a rueful smile.

  “I also!” Belton looked around in mock dismay. “But it would not do either of our reputations good to have that overheard.”

  Katherine laughed again.

  “Did you plan to eat with the Durhams, or may I take you in to supper?”

  His suggestion delighted Katherine. It was wonderful to find someone she enjoyed conversing with. “I should like that very much,” she said, extending him her hand.

  As they entered the supper room, Katherine felt a moment’s hesitation, remembering Castalia’s deliberate maneuvering to bring her together with Lord Belton. Then she willed herself to relax. Lord Belton was nice and it was foolish for her to deny herself pleasant company out of some vague apprehension. He was certainly the least intimidating man Castalia had introduced to her.

  * * *

  Katherine was not certain how it happened, but over the next few weeks it seemed she saw more and
more of Lord Belton. It was rarely by prearrangement. Oh, he took her for an occasional drive in the park and even consented to accompany her and Robbie on a visit to the British Museum. Katherine still retained the Durhams’ escort to the parties she attended, and they always saw her home, but she found she spent more and more time in Lord Belton’s company during the intervening hours. If she entertained suspicions about Castalia’s connivance in alerting Belton to their plans, she did not complain.

  She did enjoy his company. He was amusing, modest, and eminently likeable. What was more, Katherine felt totally safe in his company. He treated her with polite circumspection, and any fears she may have entertained about his interest in her soon faded after hours of his unexceptionable company. He made no untoward moves, treating her in the same refined manner he did Castalia. Katherine even dared to look forward to seeing him whenever she went out.

  Katherine genuinely began to enjoy herself in the hectic social world of London. She dampened the pretensions of any importuning men she met, and could always rely on Castalia, Lord Durham, or the marquess to provide her with protection if she needed it.

  Tonight’s fete was a severe crush, which of course made it a great success. Katherine fanned herself unsuccessfully, too hot and uncomfortable to concentrate on Castalia’s bright chatter. It had been a long week and she looked forward to spending tomorrow night at home. Robbie had complained more than once that he saw little of his mother. She felt a nagging guilt at her unintended neglect and resolved to spend more time with him. In the fall he would be away at school and she would seldom see him.

  Katherine’s languidly waving fan hesitated fractionally as she caught a glimpse of Knowlton across the room. The mere sight of him caused a tingling awareness to sweep over her body. Forcefully, she willed herself to calm. It was inevitable that they would encounter each other in society; they could certainly behave in an amiable manner when it

  happened. That thought did little to still the pounding of her heart. Dismayed at her reaction, she turned and addressed an innocuous remark to Castalia.

  Normally Katherine enjoyed listening to Castalia’s artful prattle, but she was no longer in the mood for any polite chatter. Her glimpse of Knowlton had ruined the evening for her. She was torn between expectation and dread that she would suddenly find him at her shoulder. How could she decently extricate herself and return home?

  She almost collapsed in relief when she saw Lord Belton standing at the door, looking about with an air of expectant anticipation. But when she saw the smile of recognition that lit his face when he spotted her, she felt the tiniest qualm in her stomach. It seemed . . . No, she was reading too much into an innocent smile. She would have greeted him in the same way if she had picked him out in a crowded room. She valued his friendship, as he did hers. There was nothing more to their relationship than that.

  “Lady Durham, Lady Robert.” Belton greeted them with an affable smile. “A sad crush, is it not?”

  Castalia nodded. “I am certain Lady Steventon had no intention of hosting half of London here tonight.”

  “If I may offer my assistance in trying to clear a path to the refreshments . . . ?”

  Castalia shot a knowing glance at Katherine. “We would be most delighted, my lord.”

  Katherine dutifully followed them into the crowded supper room, where Belton appropriated three chairs. She fidgeted with her gloves while she waited for his return. Why, of all nights, had Knowlton chosen this one to appear? Her initial relief at seeing Belton soon changed to dismay. She felt uncomfortable at the idea of Knowlton seeing them together, which was in itself ridiculous. One could not read into the situation that which was not there.

  Katherine stifled the thought with a surge of anger. It did not matter what Knowlton thought. If he even thought of her at all. A man who only wanted her for his mistress would have little reaction if he saw her receiving the attention of another. Katherine smiled weakly. It might even please him to discover he need not fear any chastisement for his dishonorable proposal. She knew that fear had been uppermost in his mind when he first discovered her identity. Let him see he no longer concerned her either.

  Katherine talked herself into a state of composure until she saw Knowlton enter the supper room—this time in the company of an exquisitely beautiful lady. She nudged Castalia.

  “Who is that with Knowlton?”

  Castalia turned and stared boldly, to Katherine’s chagrin. “Do not be so obvious,” she commanded.

  A mischievous smile flitted across Castalia’s face. “That is Lady Taunton. A lovely lady, married at a young age to an aging lord who then conveniently died, leaving her a very rich widow.”

  “Do you know her well?”

  Castalia wrinkled her nose. “She is not, shall we say, of the highest ton. She is much more popular among the gentlemen than their ladies.”

  “Is she Knowlton’s mistress?” Katherine asked bluntly, inwardly berating herself for wanting to know.

  Castalia shrugged. “Who knows? It is said Lady Taunton prefers to have several men at her beck and call at any one time. Goodness, you know Knowlton better than I. Why do you not ask him?”

  Belton’s arrival with their food saved Katherine the necessity of a reply. She looked up and thanked him with a radiant smile.

  Knowlton sensed Katherine’s presence in the crowded saloon even before he saw her in the far corner of the room. God, she looked beautiful tonight. Every time he saw her she looked even more ravishing, her creamy white skin begging to be touched, her golden-red hair a living, glowing flame. Involuntarily, his body responded.

  He struggled against his impulse to glower across the room at Belton, who bent over Katherine in a very proprietary way. Damn, he had no right to feel this way. He knew perfectly well why she had rejected him. No respectable lady would entertain an offer such as he had made. It had been a grievous insult.

  And if respectability was what Kate truly wanted, she could not do better than Belton. Knowlton doubted the viscount

  would even dare to kiss a woman without having first offered a declaration of marriage. And marriage, the one thing he himself was unprepared to give her, was what Katherine wanted most of all. So let her look for it elsewhere—in Belton she had a likely candidate.

  “I am feeling sadly neglected, Knowlton.” Lady Taunton’s voice was soft in his ear.

  “You were the one who insisted on coming here tonight,” he growled. “I told you I would be a poor substitute? for Seb.”

  “You also promised Seb to keep me entertained while he was gone,” she warned. “He will not be pleased if I expire from boredom before he returns.”

  “I am sure Seb will be reasonable about the matter,” Knowlton drawled in bored tones.

  She rapped him on the arm with her fan. “You are incorrigible.” Lady Taunton glanced quickly across the room. “Who is the fair lady who inspires such a look of gloom upon your face? Surely not Lady Durham—apart from being a widgeon, she is boringly happy in her marriage. Perhaps the lovely redhead at her side?” She smiled as Knowlton’s scowl deepened.

  “And Belton is so attentive. Do not tell me you two are engaged in a rivalry for the favors of such a striking lady?”

  “Not at all,” Knowlton said smoothly, taking her arm and steering her out of the room. “No lady who could be content with Belton’s placid nature would ever interest me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fill for me a brimming bowl

  And let me in it drown my soul:

  But put therein some drug, designed

  To banish woman from my mind.

  —Keats, Fill for Me a Brimming Bowl

  “Look, Mama, there is Knowlton!” Katherine looked across the park to where Robbie pointed, then quickly averted her eyes from the two mounted riders.

  Damn him. Why today, of all days, did she have to encounter him in the park, when she was in the presence of both Robbie and Lord Belton? Robbie would demand to stop, Belton would notice her di
scomfort. He would be too polite to ask why, but he would wonder just the same. She looked up, startled, when she felt the carriage speed up. “Why did we not stop?” Robbie asked plaintively. Belton exchanged a quick embarrassed look with Katherine. “I do not think your mama wished to,” he said quietly.

  Katherine clenched her fists to resist the urge to swivel her head around and catch a better glimpse of the woman who rode at Knowlton’s side. She wished she had taken a longer look when she had the opportunity. Belton’s reaction left her with no doubt of the woman’s status.

  So. Knowlton was openly displaying this latest mistress in the park. At least Katherine now knew he entertained no regrets for her refusal. He had obviously found a suitable replacement.

  Katherine remained quiet as they returned to the house

  in St. James. Robbie bounded from the carriage while Katherine waited for Belton to assist her.

  “Thank you,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.

  “I did not want to place you in an awkward situation,” he said. “I did not know how best to explain things to your son.”

  She sighed. “I imagine that it is time he learned of such matters.”

  Belton cleared his throat. “If you like, I could ... I could explain the situation to him.”

  Katherine was touched by his offer, yet felt a twinge of apprehension at the same time. It was not the action of a casual friend—and she hesitated to think of him as more than that. “Thank you, my lord, but I believe that is something I will have to undertake on my own—unless Robbie grows uncomfortable. I will certainly not hesitate to send him to you with questions in that event, if you do not object.”

  “I would be most willing to assist you,” Belton said, pressing her fingers slightly.