Three Rogues and Their Ladies - A Regency Trilogy

by G. G. Vandagriff

  Freddie continued, “It would be far more comfortable for you to resign yourself to this new direction, Cousin. If you will allow me to say so, I believe that with your unique charm and appearance, you are certain to make a brilliant match. Most girls enjoy their Seasons, you know.”

  Clenching her fists, she said, “I will marry for convenience only. To gain guardianship of Joey and to get my fortune.” Tears burned in her eyes. “I will marry someone with his own interests, his own life. Someone who will not mind that I want to live in Italy and paint.”

  “When you marry,” he said, “your husband will become Joseph’s guardian.”

  She halted. “You are a dreadfully unfeeling man to send Joey to Eton. I hope you have more compassion for your own child.”

  She bade him good morning, determined to go find her stepbrother in the schoolroom.

  But Cousin Freddie was not finished. “Your aunt is sending her carriage for you, Cousin. It will arrive tomorrow. I suggest that you and your maid set to the task of packing up such things as you will need. I will give you a draft on my bank in Town so you may purchase a suitable wardrobe.”

  Why was she surprised that she had been saddled with a fait accompli? Stalking out of the library, she climbed the stairs to the schoolroom. There she found Joey, studying an atlas. His tutor, Mr. Graves, a tall, desiccated elderly fellow with a goatee, was instructing his pupil in Latin.

  Kate’s own Latin was excellent, allowing her to understand that they were discussing the conquests of Julius Caesar. She had never interrupted her brother’s lessons before, but now she said, “Mr. Graves, it is vital that I speak to my brother alone. Would you please allow him to take a walk with me?”

  Startled, the man agreed.

  Joey said, “Is s-s-s-something wrong, K-k-kate?”

  “I will tell you when we get downstairs. We will go walk in the garden, and Cook can send us out some lemonade and biscuits that we can eat in the rose arbor.”

  Joey’s large blue eyes lit. He was currently experiencing a growth spurt and seemed never to get enough to eat. He followed her out of his schoolroom and down to the kitchen, where the good-natured cook agreed to her request. Kate and Joey walked out the kitchen door and into the garden.

  It was early spring, and as yet, only the daffodils, tulips, and crocus were out. However, the roses were budding and the trees were heavily laden with sweet blossoms. In front of the rose arbor stood her easel with its half-finished painting of the new blooms her late stepmother had loved so much. It saddened her to think she would never finish this painting, and worse, that strictly speaking, she had no right to this lovely garden anymore. Being banished from her home and from Joey made her angry. It was good that she was angry. Such feelings kept her from feeling the desolation that had been her companion since Papa’s death.

  “Has Cousin Freddie spoken to you lately about the changes he is making in our lives?”

  “N-n-no.”

  Sitting down on the white wooden bench inside the arbor, she made room for him. He was too old to take into her arms, as she wished to do, but she possessed herself of his hands and squeezed them. “I fear we are to be separated. I go to London tomorrow to stay with Papa’s sister, Aunt Clarice.”

  “Oh, K-k-Kate! I will miss you! D-d-do you have to go?”

  “Yes. I must find a husband. Then you can come to live with us. Or maybe, when the war ends, you and I can go to Italy to live.”

  “I d-d-don’t want t-t-to stay here by myself! I d-d-don’t like Cousin Freddie. He doesn’t like m-m-me.”

  She sighed, and, giving in to her desire, put her arms around him and hugged him.

  “Joey, Cousin Freddie is your guardian until such time as I marry. He is sending you to Eton.”

  “N-n-no!” He pulled away and looked into her face, his eyes round with panic.

  “I will try to find a husband very soon. I promise.”

  A footman approached them, laden with a pitcher of lemonade and a plateful of biscuits.

  As he consumed the treat, Kate ruffled his sandy curls. He was such a beautiful boy. “It will not take long, Joey. I have a plan.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN WHICH OUR HERO

  DISCOVERS A NEW SENSATION

  Jack had been in Town for a week when he thought to call upon Caro at her aunt’s one morning. Her residence, Blossom House, was well-known for the many charity balls and Whig functions that took place there.

  A very proper butler answered the door, which, for some reason, surprised Jack. Putting his card on the salver, he said, “I’m here to visit Miss Caroline Braithwaite.”

  “I will see if she is at home to visitors.”

  The butler led him into a ground floor sitting room decorated with maritime paintings hung on navy blue walls. It was unexpectedly masculine. He sat on a navy linen-covered sofa and looked at the selection of newspapers laid out on the table. Of course, there was The Times . . .

  Startled by a movement he saw out of the corner of his eye, he leapt to his feet as his training asserted itself, only to see an enormous tortoise approaching him from underneath a chair by the hearth. It stretched forth its head in greeting.

  “Lud, you are an ugly creature! Devonshire must have something loose in his brainbox to have given you as a courting gift.”

  “Henry Five has much more longevity than, say, a poodle,” a lilting voice said from the open doorway. “It was positively eons ago that the duke gave him to Lady Susannah, and his gift is still around to remind her of him.”

  Jack turned. Before him stood a young woman who was definitely not Caro. She was built like his idea of Venus, with laughing blue-gray eyes and enchantingly winged eyebrows. Her auburn hair was sleek and shiny, dressed in thick braids piled on her head. Energy fairly crackled from her, making little popping sounds in his brain. The Greeks would have declared her a goddess.

  He sucked in his breath sharply. Who was she? He had never been so hard hit by a female in his life.

  The butler stood at her shoulder. “Your Lordship, may I present Lady Katherine Derramore. Lady Katherine, this gentleman is the Marquis of Northbrooke come to call on Miss Braithwaite.”

  Lady Katherine moved forward with a wide, welcoming smile, holding out her hand. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Lord Northbrooke. I offer myself as a poor substitute for Caro.”

  He bowed over her hand, and without so much as a thought, brought it to his lips and bestowed upon it a fervent kiss. Her hands were beautiful, with long, elegant fingers. How did one court a respectable female?

  Gently disengaging herself, she sat with remarkable grace upon a wing-backed chair across from his sofa. “I’m so sorry, my lord. I know Caro will be most disappointed to have missed you. She has told me about your childhood starts. You are from Wiltshire, are you not?”

  “Yes. Caro and I are childhood friends. I called to see how she was getting on in Town. Are you visiting for the Season, as well, Lady Katherine?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Caro’s aunt is companion to my aunt, Lady Clarice Manton. This is her townhouse. I’m afraid the aunts are holding one of their charity board meetings upstairs in the Chinese drawing room.” She waved an elegant hand in the direction of the staircase in the hall. “Literacy for the Masses, I think. So we are deliciously unchaperoned!” She flashed him an impish smile. Her wide, full mouth with its short upper lip invited kisses. He could not keep his eyes from it. “Caro is out riding this morning in Rotten Row. I expect her home shortly.”

  “I will gladly wait with you as company, Lady Katherine.”

  “I hope Henry Five did not startle you. He has been banished, poor love, but I think this is his favorite room, so I’m certain he does not mind. This,” she waved her hand again, indicating the room in which they sat, “is Aunt Clarice’s idea of masculine décor.” She paused, smiling, and leaned forward as though confiding a secret. “Would you like some tea or coffee?”

  “Actually, a kiss would not come amiss,”
he said with a straight face.

  He did not know why he said it or what he expected, but it was not the conspiratorial grin she gave him. “Caro warned me of your impudence. You know exactly how attractive you are, do you not?”

  “That was rather a comment on your attractiveness, and well you know it!”

  She laughed, clearly delighted with the flirtation. It was difficult to believe this was a girl in her first Season.

  “If a kiss is not forthcoming, coffee will do,” Jack said. “Thank you.”

  “I understand you are a famed Corinthian,” Lady Katherine continued as she pulled the bell rope. “In fact, Caro claims that you are the Corinthian! I should so like to see you race your phaeton! Caro says you beat the record from here to Brighton by three minutes!”

  He smiled at this. “How kind of Caro to give me such references. Perhaps I will take you up with me on my next race. You can hold the yard of tin.”

  The butler entered.

  “Bates, coffee for two, if you please. With an extra cup for Miss Braithwaite, should she arrive soon. Also, could you have Cook give us some of her scones and jam?”

  “Very good, Lady Kate.”

  “Ahh, Kate, not Katherine,” Jack said. “That name suits you far better than Katherine. Did you climb trees in your childhood? Ride to hounds?”

  She laughed once again. To Jack’s ears, it was a sound both musical and alluring. Confound it! He was already half-enslaved by the Venus. How did he go on from here? She was thoroughly respectable, but all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and hold that delightful form as close to him as possible. Getting up, he began to stroll about the room, venting his frustration.

  “I confess. I was both son and daughter to my beloved Papa for many years,” she said. “But when I was fourteen, he remarried and acquired a stepson, my little brother, Joey.” He watched as her face sobered. “Papa died a year ago. As a matter of fact, I am just out of mourning. But I do miss him so. We were such good friends.” She looked up with a rather forced smile. “From what Caro says, I think he would have liked you, Lord Northbrooke. Were he young and alive today, I have no doubt he would aspire to be a top-of-the-trees Corinthian, as well.”

  Woeful eyes belied her cheerful words. Obviously, she was finding her father’s passing a tragedy in her young life. He noticed now that a ring of charcoal surrounded those pale blue irises. He had never seen such bewitching eyes.

  “I am sorry, Lady Kate. My father also passed away last year.”

  “I am sorry for you then, as well. Are you an orphan now, like me?”

  “No. Fortunately, my mother still lives on the family estate in Wiltshire. Where do you hail from?”

  “My father was the Marquis of Cleaverings. Our principle seat is in Devonshire. My cousin Freddie inherited and has very kindly allowed me to live in the family manor since my father’s death. Now, Aunt Clarice has graciously taken me in.” She smiled with determined cheer. “Enough of that! Tell me when you are going to take me up in your famous phaeton. Is it true that it is painted black and silver? And that you have matched blacks to go with it?”

  He laughed heartily as Bates brought in the coffee tray. “Let me guess. You fancy yourself a great whip. Would you have bothered to come down to greet me, had you not heard about the exploits with my phaeton?”

  “Thank you, Bates.” The butler put the tray down, and Lady Kate began to pour out. “I have wanted to meet you ever since the first day I met Caro.”

  “Oh? And why is that?” His heart sped like a racehorse at the starting gun. This was luck indeed! He could not imagine what Caro had said that would have created such enthusiasm.

  She kept her eyes fixed on his coffee cup as she passed it to him. “I do not think I will tell you, as yet.”

  Lounging back on the sofa, he crossed his ankles and sipped from his cup. “Minx!”

  “Ours is a very short acquaintance,” she said, pursing her mouth primly. “And you have already requested a kiss.”

  “I will endeavor to become more gentlemanly. What do you like best about London?”

  “You will think me strange, but I am most fascinated by the museums. In particular, the National Gallery.”

  He was surprised. “Now that does not march well with my impression of you to this point.”

  “I am by way of being a bit of a bluestocking, I confess. In addition to teaching me to ride and shoot, my dear Papa also took me on the Grand Tour. I very nearly stopped in Italy for the rest of my life.”

  A bluestocking! Heaven help him. “What an odd combination you are, to be sure. A tomboy, a minx, a scholar . . .”

  “You must realize,” she said, biting into a jam-laden scone as though she were starved. He watched while she chewed, a meditative expression on her face. “I defy classification. I would very much like to know more about you. Have you never been to the National Gallery, then?”

  “No. But that does not mean I’m inalterably opposed to going there. Sometime. In the far distant future.”

  “When you have tired of Cribb’s Parlor and Manton’s?”

  “You have me pegged, my lady.”

  “Oh!” She became suddenly alert. “Here is Caro.”

  In less than a moment, his childhood friend entered the room in a jaunty riding habit of hunter green. He rose and she ran into his arms, embracing him as though he were a long lost brother. Jack was not surprised to find himself grateful she had turned down his offer of marriage.

  Was it possible to fall in love so fast?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  IN WHICH OUR HEROINE

  FINDS HER PATH LESS SMOOTH THAN ANTICIPATED

  “So how did he measure up to your expectations?” Caro asked when the front door had shut behind Northbooke.

  Kate brimmed with mischief. “He exceeded my expectations, Caro. So handsome with those curly chestnut locks. I was dying to run my fingers through them. And how were you ever able to resist those eyes? The color of sherry, I think. They look right inside one. I confess, they made me feel warm all over. And that mouth? Oh, my. And he proposed to you!”

  In fact, Kate was thinking that she had never conceived of meeting a man so thoroughly opposite to her in every way. But she had been fair. She had warned him of her predilection for art. And there had been an attraction. A strong one that still had her senses buzzing. She was not lying to Caro. In fact, that part of the meeting was a bit troubling, if she were to be completely honest.

  “It would have been practically illegal to marry him, Kate. He is like my brother. He only proposed to save himself the trouble of finding someone else. And I have never seen that spark in his eye before, so I am betting he is very glad that I said no!”

  “He is to take me up in his phaeton tomorrow, so things progress apace. Now, what of your ride?”

  “I saw another niece of your Aunt Clarice. Have you met the Duchess of Ruisdell?”

  “No! Tell me. Is she very beautiful? And was the Duke with her?”

  “She is perfectly lovely,” Caro said. “And she has a wonderful seat on a horse. The duke was riding Jupiter, his black stallion. They have only recently returned from an extended honeymoon on the Continent. They were forced to flee England. He killed a man in a duel!”

  “Oh! How thrilling! Have you any of the details?”

  “I’ve had the entire saga from your Aunt Clarice. It seems the Duchess had quite a few former fiancés . . .”

  * * *

  That evening, Kate’s carefully planned siege of the marquis suffered a blow. She had dressed in the gown which Caro said most suited her: ice blue satin, trimmed with a discreet amount of silver lace she endeavored to tuck above the scandalously low neckline. Her hair was arranged in ringlets high on her head, and Becky, her maid, had managed to curl a few tendrils about her face and neck with her tongs. Kate wore her mother’s pearls for luck.

  However, her luck was out. The Marquis of Northbrooke was not in attendance at Lady Tryon’s ball. The ballroom, reputedly
the largest in London, had nearly a dozen chandeliers, not to mention mirrored walls, so Kate had no difficulty discovering his absence. She decided she must make the best of the situation and set out to form new acquaintances. She danced every dance but the waltzes, for which she had not yet received permission from the Gorgons, as she privately called the patronesses of Almack’s. There was a handsome lieutenant in Regimentals, but he struck her as a managing type. A ridiculous fop with a lisp made her laugh. And a very substantial baronet trod on her toe during a country dance.

  “Why is your Jack not here?” she asked Caro. “I am certain he is very good ton, and it appears from the numbers that everyone else in Mayfair must be present.”

  “I have yet to see him at an occasion of this sort. He is not fond of dancing.”

  This, unfortunately, accorded with her own impression of him. However, after their agreeable chat that morning, she had thought the marquis might have put himself out a bit for her. She did not know if she would like being married, even for convenience, to a man who was not fond of dancing.

  The only event of any interest at all during the evening was her strange encounter with the Earl of Walsingham. Tall and broad shouldered, with disconcerting black eyes and blond hair pomaded straight back and tied with a black ribbon, he looked her up and down with lazy eyes during their introduction. He did not betray a single ounce of regard. However, he did ask her to dance the minuet. He invested the staid movements with insinuations of desire, keeping his eyes fixed on hers, contriving to brush against her, and clasping her hand in a firm grip. Though she felt herself drawn to him, as she imagined every woman was, she was also conscious of a feeling of unease. He was unquestionably a predator. Was this man what Aunt Clarice would call a rake?

  They danced in a charged silence until he drawled, “I confess myself entranced by your eyebrows. You possess looks of an exceedingly unusual nature.”