“It is ice. It brings down the swelling,” she said. Sir Bertie had backed away and stood in the doorway.
“I thought you were at Newmarket!” she said.
“I broke my journey for a couple of days. Lucky thing, too. I saw the gossip you’ve been generating in the Post.”
“Sit down for goodness’ sake and listen,” she said. “I was set upon by ruffians in the East End yesterday afternoon because you did not appear to escort me! They beat me with a cudgel. I do not know why or what their intentions were. It could be connected to the smuggler, but believe me when I say they might have killed me or kidnapped me if it were not for Sir Bertie. He heard my screams from blocks away and came to my aid. Fortunately, he was in the neighborhood looking at property for Lady Clarice.”
“None of this explains what Backman is doing in your bedroom!”
“I just moved up here this morning. I have been on the sofa in the sitting room. Sir Bertie has been waking me every two hours so I would not slip into a coma. He deserves your thanks. If you are at all happy that I am alive, that is.”
“Backman, you will wait for me downstairs.”
“He will do no such thing. Neither he nor I answer to you. Now go away; you are making my head pound!”
Sir Bertie said stiffly, “She is not out of danger, Redmayne. I’ll leave, but you must arrange for her to be cared for.”
“I am capable of taking care of my own sister! In any case, that is what her maid is for!”
“Leave my bedroom, Robert!” cried Catherine, holding her head. What an abominable idiot her brother was.
“Redmayne,” said Sir Bertie. “After you.”
“You have not heard the end of this!” exclaimed Robert.
“What are you going to do?” asked Catherine. “Insist that he save my reputation by marrying me?”
Robert clenched his hands at his side, his face choleric.
Sir Bertie turned to leave the room, saying, “I hope you will soon be recovered, Lady Catherine.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. “Thank you, Sir Bertie. Thank you so much.”
Once he had left the room, she began to weep. “You are so cruel, Robert. Leave me now, or I shall chuck this piece of ice at you!”
“He is an encroaching popinjay!”
“You are the popinjay!” She took the lump of ice from her head, unwrapped it, and hurled it at her brother. It struck him in the chest. “Leave at once!”
“You are not to go to the East End again!” he said on his way out of the door.
Catherine decided in that moment that at soon as her head ceased to pound, she was going to write to her father and bid him join them in London.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bertie was in a rage. That brother of Lady Catherine’s had no idea of taking care of her. All he cared about was getting rid of an encroaching suitor. Granted, it had looked pretty damning, but the man still had not spared a thought for his sister. He did not even react to the account of her attack.
And now that Redmayne was home, Bertie would not be able to see Lady Catherine again. He only hoped the maid would check on her. Perhaps he had better go inform Miss Braithwaite and Lady Clarice. They could see to it.
He changed his direction and walked swiftly to Blossom House.
“Is either of the ladies at home?” he asked Pursley.
“They are having tea, Sir Herbert. Follow me. They are in the Chinese saloon.”
Both ladies greeted him effusively.
“How did you leave dear Catherine?” Miss Braithwaite asked.
“Well enough. But I’m worried about her. Lord Redmayne came home. Tossed me out. Didn’t properly take in that his sister was injured. I’m afraid he won’t see to her care.”
Miss Braithwaite stood and tossed her napkin on the tea table. “I shall take myself off immediately. She needs to be seen to for a while yet. Insufferable man!”
She left the room as he called after her, “Thank you, Miss Braithwaite. You are a brick.”
Lady Clarice said, “This is all most unfortunate, Bertie. Sit down and have some tea. It’s scones and raspberry jam today.”
She prepared him a cup, remembering that he took neither milk nor sugar. He helped himself to a scone, realizing he was deucedly hungry.
“Lord Robert Redmayne is far too concerned with his own consequence,” said Lady Clarice. “He deserves to be taken down a peg or two.”
“Wish I had him in the boxing ring,” said Bertie.
“Sukey will settle him, never you worry. She is not afraid to speak her mind.” She set her teacup down. “Now, we never did get a chance to talk about the property you looked at.”
For the next few minutes, they discussed Lady Clarice’s plan for her reading school, then Pursley entered.
“Lady Deveridge is here with her children, my lady.”
Bertie looked up in surprise.
“This morning, I invited them over to meet Henry Five,” Lady Clarice explained.
Gweet burst into the room. “Uncle Bertie! I thought you were helping that sick lady.”
“Her brother is home,” he said.
Running to him, she threw her arms about his neck. “We have been to Astley’s Amphitheatre today! It was wonderful above all things! The animals are so clever.”
Bertie turned to his nephew. “And what did you think of it, Lord Deveridge?” he asked.
“It was top of the trees!” the boy said.
Having risen at his sister’s entrance, he went to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I have deserted you. I’m glad you went to Astley’s without me.”
Lady Clarice pulled her bell rope. When a footman answered, she asked the man to bring Henry Five into the saloon. After he retreated on his errand, she offered the children tea and scones.
The tortoise was an immediate success. Warrie and Gweet were soon on the floor examining him. Henry Five stretched out his neck as though preening himself.
“He is ever so big,” said Warrie. “What does he eat?”
“Vegetables,” answered Lady Clarice. She said to Marianne, “I am sorry you have missed Sukey. She is attending Lady Catherine Redmayne.”
Marianne looked at her brother with a raised brow. “How is the lady?”
“Recovering,” said Bertie.
* * *
Once Bertie had left Blossom House, he decided a call on Cumberwell was in order. The man needed to know about Lady Catherine’s adventure at the Fotheringills’.
Cumberwell was packing his case to leave the office when Bertie arrived.
“Is anything amiss with Lady Catherine?” Cumberwell asked.
“No. She’s recovering well. Came to tell you what she told me about the night before her injury.” He recounted the scene that took place in the garden of the Fotheringill home.
“So she knows him, by Jove!”
“No. She doesn’t know him. It was his companion that spoke. They appear to be in business together. She didn’t see either one, but they most likely saw her. The more I think of it, the more I believe that is what was behind the attack on her.”
“I wish we knew who the blighter was,” said Cumberwell. “In my opinion, these attacks on her person do not make sense unless the Gentleman Smuggler is deathly afraid of being exposed for some reason. The only punishment for smuggling is a fine. There must be some added inducement for him to attempt murder and risk hanging.”
“You are right,” said Bertie. “That’s the only thing that makes sense.”
The man looked at Bertie, frowning. “What exactly is your interest in Lady Catherine?”
Bertie looked the man in the eye. “Personal.”
Startled, Cumberwell pulled in his chin. “I was unaware of your attachment.”
Bertie decided not to elaborate. After all, the man was betrothed to another woman. He owed him no explanation. Seeing no reason to prolong the interview, he took his leave.
* * *
Bertie was certain Redmayne
had left instructions with his butler not to admit him, so his only recourse was to write a letter.
Wellingham House
London
Dear Lady Catherine,
I am distressed to have caused a disagreement between you and your brother. However, I wanted to let you know that I have been to Cumberwell and related to him your account of what happened in the garden at the Fotheringills’.
If you would be good enough to let me know how you are progressing in your recovery, I would appreciate it greatly.
Again, I regret the unpleasantness with your brother.
Very truly yours,
Sir B.
He dined at home with the Wellinghams and his family, deciding he would rather spend the evening at home with his friends than attend any of the entertainments to which he had been invited. He was not at all anxious to see Miss Mary Gilbert again.
Gweet and Warrie, who had been allowed to eat dinner in the dining room, now performed a simple piano duet for the group before adjourning to the nursery for bed. The rest of the evening was spent at cards.
At ten o’clock the butler brought Bertie a note that had been delivered from Westbury House. He put it in his pocket to read when he was alone. Penelope was his partner at whist and would allow no lack of concentration on his part.
After the women retired, he remained in the drawing room with Beau for a nightcap.
“What is the situation between you and Lady Catherine, old fellow? She is the reason you tried to give the Season a miss this year, is she not?”
“You are too perceptive by half,” Bertie replied, pouring himself a short whiskey. “Two barriers: Redmayne and Cumberwell.”
“Cumberwell is engaged, surely.”
“He still owns her heart, if I’m any judge.”
“As for Redmayne, he is an idiot,” Beau said. “Lord Westbury is the one who has the right to approve who she marries.”
“I decided when I came up to London that I would exert myself to claim the lady’s heart. But one can’t claim a heart that lives elsewhere.”
“Dreadfully sorry, Bertie. So is Penelope. She likes her. You know she came to the house the day after her ball in Somerset. I think she was looking for you.”
Bertie took this in. “That is strange. I wonder why.”
“Don’t give up. A woman’s heart is never an easy thing to understand. Sometimes I don’t think they understand it themselves. Penelope had another suitor she was determined to wed. You will remember, she didn’t think London would do for her.”
“What changed her mind?”
“A well-timed kiss, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Hmm.”
“Think about it.”
* * *
Lady Catherine’s letter was a thoughtful length.
Dear Sir Bertie,
Thank you for your letter, and do not worry about Robert. Please allow me to apologize on his behalf. He has far too much self-consequence. My father is not that way at all. He knows what is due the marquessate but is not a snob. Robert thinks for some reason that you want to marry me. He does not realize that could not be further from the truth. Do not worry. You have made that quite plain.
Speaking of my father, I have written him to tell him of my difficulties and asked him to come to London. He is an experimental botanist and, at this time of life, his major interest is in his projects, but he is also a fond father, and I miss him.
I feel that if I could just get a proper look at the man who belongs to that voice, I will be able to hand you the smuggler on a silver platter. At present, I am not at all kindly disposed toward him.
Miss B. says I am to get up tomorrow and take some moderate exercise around the house. Thank you so much for sending her to me. Robert was impossible, and she was able to quell him quite nicely.
Very truly yours,
Lady C.
Could not be further from the truth? What had given her that idea? He teased his wits. Perhaps the fact that he had not come to London until a month into the Season? That he had as much as given her the cut direct at the Fotheringill ball? How would things have gone on between them had she not been attacked? Surely she must guess his true feelings now!
Robert was right. Bertie was interested in marrying her. Maybe Beau and Penelope could help promote his cause. What a shame Lord Redmayne had not gone on to Newmarket.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Marquess of Westbury arrived three days after Robert had dismissed Bertie. Catherine was up and about and very glad to see him.
“Thank you so much for coming, Father,” she said, kissing him. Putting an arm through his, she led him back to the conservatory, where he would be most comfortable.
“Robert is being a perfect donkey,” she said. “Sir Bertie Backman, the baronet I told you about, rescued me from the attack in the East End. He is a very good man, and I think you would get along exceedingly well with him; however Robert will not have him in the house. And he is being a horrible tyrant. He won’t allow me to go out, either!”
“It sounds like he is worried about you,” said her father gently. He sat down on a stool in the conservatory. “It is just as well I came here. No one has been seeing to these plants.”
Catherine clenched her fists. “Father! I need your attention! There is something I have not told you. When we were in Dorset . . .” She proceeded to tell him of her near encounter with the smugglers. “Since then, there have been three different attacks on me. Sir Bertie and William are looking into it. Robert cannot be bothered. He just wants to keep me housebound so he doesn’t have to worry about me.”
Her father studied her carefully. “It is not like you to exaggerate, so I suppose I must take you seriously. How does this baronet fit into the picture? And Lord William?”
“William is only involved because of his position at the Home Office. But Sir Bertie has been part of the story from the beginning. He was in Dorset at a house party during the time I was there last winter. I told you about him, remember? He came to our ball.”
“Tell me more about this man, Katie.”
“It is not as Robert supposes. He is not the least encroaching. If anything, I have encouraged him. He has been all that is thoughtful and kind.” She picked a yellow leaf off the lemon tree and twirled it between her fingers. “He saved my life when I was attacked in the East End. Robert was on his way to Newmarket, so Sir Bertie stayed by me and sent for Miss B., who made certain I did not slip into a coma.”
As she felt herself the object of her father’s scrutiny, she went on, “Miss B. and Lady Clarice think very well of him. Robert does not, only because he is a baronet.”
“I will not think kindly of him if he is toying with your affections.”
“To do him credit, I believe he may think I am still attached to Lord William.”
Her father put his fingers under her chin and tilted it up so he could read her face.
“It sounds as though you haven’t been exactly frank with each other.”
“You are correct, Papa. I haven’t wanted to presume anything.”
“Robert is off to Newmarket again. I should like to meet this man who has so impressed you. I owe him my thanks, after all.”
Catherine thought for a few moments. What would Sir Bertie think if she invited him to dinner with her father? Would he come?
“Do you know the Wellinghams from Somerset, Father?”
“I knew the old viscount. I have met the heir only a couple of times.”
“He is with the Foreign Office and very engaging. I think you would like him. He is Sir Bertie’s greatest friend. In fact, Sir Bertie is staying with Lord Wellingham now. He was not down from his estate in Oxfordshire until recently. I do not think he plans to stay long in town. He brought his widowed sister and niece and nephew with him.”
“Well, let us have the whole crowd over for a dinner party. It is time I became better acquainted with my neighbor, too. His father has been deceased these ten or eleven years.”<
br />
“I think that is a fine idea!” said Catherine, much cheered.
“You are fond of this man,” he said.
Catherine looked out the glass panes of the room into the garden, which was a riot of spring flowers. “I am. He is nothing like William.”
Her father sighed. “I am very glad about that.”
“You never liked William?”
“He did not make you happy. You were either in alt or in despair. That is not a good recipe for a happy life.”
“You are right. But you agreed to the marriage!”
“I had not spent enough time with you and William to realize the disastrous effect he had on your emotions. I went on Robert’s recommendation.”
“Robert likes him because his father is the wealthiest man in England. That never mattered a jot to me. I hope you will make up your own mind the next time someone asks for my hand.”
“Is this baronet likely to do so?”
“I don’t think so. Sometimes I think he cares about me, but Robert has been very severe on him.”
“I look forward to meeting him.” He stood and looked at the rather peaked lemon tree. “Now then, what really concerns me, at the moment, is this threat against you. I believe you should come with me down to Somerset, dear girl.”
“The man thinks I can identify him, especially after an incident at the Fotheringill ball.” She told her father what had taken place that night. “But I do not want to be barred from London forever.”
“Just until the man is caught, darling.”
“I think the only hope of catching him is when he goes after me again.”
“Katie, I certainly will not consider using you as bait! Perhaps this Sir Bertie will have a better idea”
* * *
Lady Wellingham, to whom Catherine had addressed her invitation, replied that the party would love to have dinner and meet her father, all except Lady Deveridge, who was preparing to leave London on the morrow. On pins and needles about the meeting, Catherine dressed with care that evening. Was Sir Bertie leaving tomorrow as well?
She wore a new gown of deep green trimmed with gold that made the best of her coloring. Parker dressed her hair with care, as the lump on her scalp was still tender. She was pleased with the effect—half up and half down, with ringlets just touching her shoulder. Catherine was aware that she looked her best.
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