by Olivia Ritch
“Oh yeah, I think you distracted me back there. Do tell me about this mystery maid.”
He chuckled. She hadn’t forgotten and she had changed the subject back to her own designs. Damn clever chit. “She was in your rooms but was no one from the staff. That means there was something very wrong.
Right now, we don’t know any more about her mission.” He didn’t have to tell her they had found her body several days ago. There was informing her of the truth and then there was frightening her for not a good enough reason that he would not do.
“Why would someone be in my room?”
To kill you. “We don’t know. But we’re looking. I have some contacts…” he trailed off. She had wrapped her arms around him and her flesh burned his chest.
Kathryn leaned her cheek on Jules’ back; he drew in a quick breath.
“Oh gosh, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out…by…”
“Touching me? It’s okay. I frightened you. While you are an incredibly beautiful and highly intelligent woman, I do not make a habit of lusting after the women to whom my friends have proposed marriage.
Keep your head on my back and I will think of other subjects such as the lovely meadows and birds and maybe what I will buy my nieces and nephews for Christmas.”
She laughed; it was a fresh, delicate, honest sound. “You’re so funny. At home, we say we’re going to think of our mama and that works well as a distraction. So, on that subject do you…have someone?”
“Not at present. I am avoiding the ton because you see the marriage minded matrons find me especially…how would you Americans say it…?”
“A good catch? Prime target? A hottie? Eligible? That’s it. You are a highly eligible bachelor.”
“Yes, that’s what they say,” he sighed knowingly. “You know, Michael is the most eligible of all us with that Asterleigh business. Day after tomorrow was to have been his investiture. I expect he must have 125
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now delayed it because of you. Likely, he proposed yesterday so he could take you with him as his betrothed to the ceremony. Your carriage would be on its way to London, almost half of the journey accomplished I daresay this day. He’d never make it if he left even now.” Julian surprised himself at being so forward but she needed to know how much his damn lucky but short-sighted friend Michael wanted her and how much she had already cost him.
She gasped. “Day after tomorrow…he was to become a Duke and he is going to miss it because of me?”
“Don’t be so surprised. You thought he made you a business proposal but all of his actions have shown a man whose heart is engaged.
You do see don’t you?” She sighed and it was all he could do to keep his blood from shooting from his brain to that nether region. Being so damn chivalrous was giving him a monstrous headache and this woman better damn well have a sister.
“Yes. Where I come from it’s called actions speaking louder than words. Let’s agree, he does feel possessive and he seems to be willing to go to lengths for me but how will I know with someone like him when his heart is engaged?”
“I’ve known Michael all of my life. We grew up together and then we went to Eton together and then we went into the service together. I believe I’ve never seen him more engaged in my life.” It was true. He knew Michael well and that night in the study, he had seen the paralyzing fear, the determination to protect, and all of the possessiveness that men like him pour into the one they choose.
Choosing for them was much the same as loving. It was a life mate, someone they would cherish, revere and maybe even love a little for the whole of their lives. “For Michael it’s also about honor since…”
“His Father didn’t exhibit much?”
“I daresay.”
* * * *
Julian had been quiet for a few minutes and Kathryn felt no compulsion to fill in the air with words. He had said Michael’s heart was engaged, he was possessive. Was that enough? No. He would have to love her first. None of that romantic I’ll marry him and make him love me flim flam. Kathryn would require a declaration, and soon, and before any more sexual activity. If none was forthcoming, she’d get back to finding her way home. If he cared enough to be possessive and to send all the countryside after her, then maybe he cared enough to listen. “I am going to give my horse a rest by sliding off and walking. You are no burden however and Valiant will be happy to continue with you.”
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“Yeah, just admit it. I put my arms around you and you thought I was making a pass at you. I’m sorry. Please don’t think that’s what I was doing. I am still not used to horses and I felt like I was going to fall off.”
“Scared? No, Kathryn I don’t think you made a pass at me. But, you? Afraid? I shall not believe it.”
“Thanks. Actually, are you involved? I can think of some friends who…”
“Not you, too?” he bellowed in an imperious tone and then threw his head back and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” She felt a little miffed that he was laughing at her.
“Dear Kathryn, I have just realized that I like you very much and I adore your bluntness. If Michael weren’t already so tied up in knots about you, I’d try to rein you in myself.”
Kathryn released an un-lady like snort. “Thanks. I think.”
They moved along companionably. Suddenly, Kathryn looked up.
“We seem to have come to a fork in the road. Which way?”
Jules pointed toward the right. “We take this one.”
“The fork seems fitting for my situation today,” she answered.
“Someone should write about this, then?”
He did, exactly 100 years from now.
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
Robert Frost, 1916
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Chapter Fourteen
The house came into view but of course, it was not a house. It was a manor or a mansion or what? It was a beautiful, English manor home of stacked stone foundation and glorious windows, myriad gables and rooflines. It was exquisite. The yard was simple, not as elegant or imposing or perfectly well-tended as Michael’s but with amazing potential to be lush and overflowing with flowers.
Kathryn could see the garden, much smaller and on the side of the house. There were not the same rioting rose bushes. Something about the house looked almost …bare.
“I believe I will ride. No need to look as if I was so heroic as to walk the entire way.”
“And I promise not to freak you out again.” She cleared her throat.
“Julian…”
“Yes, Kathryn?”
“Thank you. You’ve been very honest with me and given me a lot to think about. I can tell you, or maybe assure you, that I will consider all you’ve said. And if Michael asks me again, I will have a well thought out answer.”
“I am glad to hear it.” After a moment’s hesitation, he decided she deserved to know what he thought of her. “Michael is a very good man.
He deserves someone like you.”
“That’s kind of you. Thank you.”
It was all they said until they reached the house. No boy came running for the horse but the lights were burning and the doors were opened by a slight, elderly woman. “Ahh, Mrs. Soggs, you can see I have accomplished our mission. Worley?”
“Still out, My Lord.”
“I thought you said to call you Julian or was it Jules?” she asked him in all seriousness.
“You yes, but the servants would not do so. Now we’re back to civilization, they would expect it of you too.” His cerulean blue eyes twinkled and she tweaked his arm. “Ow, you little termagant are going to deserve the tongue-lashing you get from Asterleigh
when he arrives.”
Mrs. Soggs had stood gaping at them. She had surely never laid eyes on anyone like Kathryn and the familiarity with which they addressed each other must have been a shock for her. Servants were very 128
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conservative about address. “If you will wait in the study, I will fetch tea.”
“Thank you Soggs,. I believe Miss Ragland would appreciate a chance to freshen up. Would you first show her to a room?”
“Yes, My Lord. This way, miss.”
“Oh, and Kathryn. I have business and must leave you. I am sending notes to the others. I do hope to have the pleasure of your company again soon.”
“Julian, I don’t know for sure if I should thank you for dragging me back but I definitely appreciate your taking time to explain things to me.”
“Good day, Kathryn.” And as she nodded her head in that regal way some women do, Jules thought she would make a fine Duchess.
Kathryn looked in the mirror and almost shrieked at her disheveled appearance. Her hair was virtually plastered to her head and limp, her clothes were dusty and even her face was red and splotchy. She looked awful. There was a rag and water, but no brush so she combed through her hair with her fingers. Having no makeup available, she was eternally grateful for the tan that kept her from being hideous. She changed into the yellow muslin dress, the only one she had taken from the house that had not been hers. Her list of debts to Michael included the cost of a new dress so she wasn’t stealing it and she had been determined she would pay him back every penny.
Mrs. Soggs was waiting in the bedroom for her because she realized that she would not be expected to make her way back downstairs on her own. While she had been focused on making herself look remotely presentable, Kathryn had not taken in her surroundings. Once she did, she noticed the contrasts with Michael’s home. There was no young maid hovering to cater to her every whim. In fact, there had been no servants anywhere she could recall except for this woman who must surely be the housekeeper.
The room was clean but not perfectly so. Dust motes floated in the streaks of sun from the half-drawn curtains and the furniture sported not recently polished surfaces, aging bed covers and a lack of pillows. This room looked acceptable but nothing more. As they descended the stairs, she noticed that the walls were barer than Michael’s, no tapestries, certainly no imposing suits of armor or swords or knickknacks in corners. There were fewer candelabras and almost no wall sconces. The inside of the house was much like the outside, bare.
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of value and had not been redone in some time. She had a lot of experience recognizing the signs of poverty and she would have to tell Michael about his situation.
“The Master’s study, miss. You can wait in there. I’ll bring tea.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Soggs. You really don’t need to trouble with tea.
I’m not a hot tea drinker.” That earned her, she saw, another censorious glare.
“Very well, miss.”
Kathryn stepped into the room and immediately realized why she had been brought in here. This room was generously furnished and spotlessly clean. This must be the room in which Matthew Drake, Baron of Worley received guests to keep up the appearances of a wealthy country gentleman. The deep leather chair behind his huge, elegant desk was one for a commanding figure and his blotter was meticulously ordered, a lovely silver inkstand among the implements on its surface.
Candlesticks on the mantle were polished to a high shine, leather-bound books lined the shelves that were also interspersed with small valuable trinkets and as she continued to scan the room, she saw it.
Far down the wall from where she stood, sitting in a picture holder on one of the bookshelves, was the painting of the cavalry officer. Heart racing, palms moistening, and her mind running a mile a minute, she made her way to the small portrait of Matthew Drake. She knew it had to be him because Michael had mentioned to her that Matthew had been a cavalry officer.
Kathryn reached for the painting, carefully lifting it from its resting place. She knew she had only moments before someone would show up and take away her chance to leave Christine some sort of note. At this moment, she was so grateful she had not chosen the cavalry officer’s portrait to purchase because it would be the first one to draw Christy’s attention when she finally made her way to the little shop while looking for her big sister. Quickly Kathryn found a quill on the desk, dipped it in the inkwell and wrote as small and neatly as she could in the corner on the paper backing of the wooden frame.
Christy,
I’m safe. I ♥ U!
KitKat, 1816
She blew on the ink to dry as she had seen Michael do before and replaced the painting. She didn’t know how to get rid of the evidence of the ink so she lifted her skirt and wiped it on the inside of her hem, 130
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replaced the pen and the inkwell’s lid and stepped away from the desk. It would not occur to her until much later that the cavalry officer’s portrait frame had not been papered when she had seen it in the shop at home.
Just then, the study door slammed open and Michael almost stumbled in. His features relaxed and then hardened and then softened again all in the space of seconds. He was trailed by …the cavalry officer.
“Kathryn! Where the devil have you been? Do you know what you have done?”
“What? No hello, darling?”
He had determined to choose his words carefully to not dress her down in front of Matthew Drake or the servants but the force of seeing her safe, standing there looking perfectly innocent, gorgeously disheveled, safe, beautiful and safe, completely undermined his best intentions. Cautioning himself as her chin lifted and he saw the hardening of her stare, he reminded himself that he would wait, until he was home, his home, to tell her what a foolish and spiteful thing she had done. For now, he would relish the sight of her, even if it was a less than well-appointed appearance she made.
“Michael.”
“Miss Ragland, may I present Matthew Drake, Baron of Worley,” he said, acknowledging Matthew who had come fully into the room. He used the opportunity to school his features and contain his giddiness at the sight of her.
“It’s nice to meet you, My Lord,” she said with the slightest quaver in her voice Michael noticed.
“Miss Ragland, it is my pleasure.” He took her hand and bowed over it.
She curtsied better, Michael thought, than usual. She must have been practicing, probably under Cassie’s tutelage.
“As it is mine to meet you,” she responded coolly.
One word answers and short phrases were not her usual. She must be angry but she had no right to be angry with him, Michael thought. She had scared him half of out his mind and he had sent the entire landed gentleman in the county after her. She should be damn grateful.
“Kathryn, I know you must be tired and hungry. I have the carriage. We can go home.”
“I assume, you are asking me to come to your home.” Her tone was not icy, but cool. She was not entirely pleased with his rescue.
Michael forced himself to maintain calm but his façade would not hold long in the face of her indifference. “I am.”
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to rest in your home, Lord Worley. I expect we will see one another again soon.” She didn’t ask it in question form. She knew she wasn’t leaving the area today or not even tomorrow and she would have no more chance to bolt. For a while, she’d have to play out Michael’s scenario. She had never been one to do another’s bidding but she was stuck. This time, she had no choice but she didn’t have to like it.
“It was my pleasure as I said, Miss Ragland. Michael has invited
me to dinner tomorrow night to get to know you and re-establish my acquaintance with Lady Cassandra. I shall see you then.”
“Well, then I will look forward to it.” He noted she at least acted civilly to Matthew. That was something.
Michael also recognized her comment did not register in her eyes.
She was indeed being only just barely polite. He would have to speak with her about that too. He took her arm tightly and she pulled back from him presumably with the excuse of picking up her things. She did not return her hand for his sleeve and he shut his lips against the reprimand rising in his throat.
John Coachman dropped the steps and Kathryn pulled herself up into the carriage before he could assist her. Everything she was doing was severely trying Michael’s patience and as if to pique his foul mood further, she spoke not a word for the entire drive back to Hawthorne.
“Will you join me in the study, Miss Ragland?”
“Yes.”
Wonderful. “I am truly glad you’re back but I’d like an explanation.”
Her body language suggested she was going to be terse but then she relaxed and looked him in the eye. “I told you I wasn’t from here and that I needed to get home. I long overstayed my welcome and then you offered me a business-like marriage proposal. I felt, under the circumstances—those being you wanted to marry me for some odd reason but didn’t believe who I was—that it was time I made my own way home since you weren’t likely to help me. I left you a note in the desk and a list of the things I owe you money for. I didn’t intend to leave England without repaying you and I expected to send some sort of goodbye letter with the funds.”
If she had announced her intention to join a band of pirates and sail the oceans, she could not have shocked him more. “Where do you suggest I start in addressing all of the concerns you have raised in one such eloquent and well-rehearsed speech?” he asked bitterly. He was not a passionate or intemperate man but this day and now this bizarre pronouncement – or series of pronouncements – had about undone the last of his fragile control.
