“You’ll have to ask John to drive you then. Henry took sick yesterday.”
“That—that won’t be necessary, Kit. I’m just going for a—a walk.”
“A walk?” Katherine said stupidly.
“Yes. If you’ve noticed, it’s an absolutely lovely day, just perfect for a walk.”
“I hadn’t noticed. You know I rarely take note of the weather.” Good Lord, a walk? Beth never walked. She had such high arches that walking any distance gave her sore feet. And what was all this uncertainty, this stammering? “How long will you be, love?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Beth said evasively. “I might venture over to Regent Street and do a little shopping before the afternoon crowds arrive. You know how dreadful it can be there between two and four.”
Katherine was speechless, and before she could recover, Beth had waved and closed the door. And then Katherine’s eyes flared and her headache was momentarily forgotten as the most astounding thought occurred to her. My God, she wouldn’t be that foolish, would she? But her unusual behavior, that ridiculous statement about going for a walk, the even more absurd suggestion that she might shop—without a carriage to carry her parcels. She was meeting William! And if she had to be so sneaky about it, they had to be going to elope! There had been ample time for him to obtain a license. And the city abounded in churches.
“Lucy!”
The red-haired maid appeared almost instantly in the bedroom doorway. “Lady Katherine?”
“Quickly, call my sister back here!”
The maid fairly flew out of the room, alarmed by the harried note in her mistress’s voice. She caught Lady Elisabeth descending the stairs, and they both returned to Katherine’s sitting room.
“Yes, Kit?”
A definitely guilty look this time, Katherine thought wildly, her mind already racing ahead. “Be a dear, Beth, and confer with Cook over tonight’s menu for me. I really don’t feel up to making any decisions just now.”
Obvious relief. “Of course. Kit.”
Elisabeth closed the door behind her, leaving a confused Lucy staring at Katherine. “Didn’t you already—”
Katherine leaped off the chaise. “Yes, yes, but going to the kitchen will delay her for a few minutes while I change. Now, if only Cook won’t mention that I have already spoken with her, I’ll pull this off neatly.”
“I don’t understand, Lady Katherine.”
“Of course you don’t. I don’t expect you to. I’ve got to prevent a tragedy from occurring. My sister is going to elope!”
Lucy’s mouth simply dropped open at that. She had heard the gossip among the servants concerning Lady Elisabeth and the young Lord Seymour as well as what the Earl had threatened to do if she should marry against his wishes.
“Shouldn’t you stop her, my lady?”
“Don’t be a ninny. I can’t stop her now without any proof of her intentions,” Katherine said impatiently as she unbuttoned her morning gown. “Quickly, I need your dress, Lucy!” Then back to her first thought: “It would be too easy for her to sneak out again when I’m not expecting it. And I can’t very well have her locked permanently in her room. I’ve got to follow them to the church and put a stop to it there. Do hurry, Lucy! Then I’ll take her home to Brockley Hall where I can better keep an eye on her.”
The maid didn’t understand at all, but she quickly stripped off her black cotton uniform and handed it over. “But why do you need—”
“Here, help me put it on, Lucy. You can change into my dress after I’ve gone. So I won’t be recognized, of course,” she said in answer to the maid’s question. “If she sees me following her, then she won’t meet Lord Seymour, and then I’ve no proof, and then I can’t do anything until she tries again. Understand?”
“Yes, no, oh, Lady Katherine, you really can’t mean to go out looking like a servant!” Lucy exclaimed even as she helped to button up the stiff dress.
“That is the whole idea, Lucy, to be in disguise. Even if Beth should see me, she’ll never recognize me in this,” Katherine said, trying to pull the skirt down over her many petticoats. It stuck at the waist. Lucy’s dress was more form-fitting. She wore only two petticoats. “This won’t do. I’ll have to remove some of these flounces and especially this bulky horsehair petticoat. There, that’s better.”
Four petticoats dropped to her feet, and the black skirt slid over her hips easily. A trifle long now, since Lucy was a few inches taller than she, but that couldn’t be helped.
“You don’t wear that long apron when you go out, do you, Lucy?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so, but I wasn’t sure. Oh, why haven’t I ever taken notice of these things? What about a parasol?”
“No, my lady, just that reticule in the pocket—”
“This?” Katherine pulled out a little camel’s-hair bag with long tie strings. “Perfect. You don’t mind if I use it, do you? Good, I do want to look my part. I suppose these rings should go too,” she added, stripping off a large ruby solitaire and a cluster of pearls. “Now for a bonnet, quickly. A poke bonnet, I think. That will help to hide my face.”
The maid rushed in her petticoats to the wardrobe and returned with Katherine’s oldest bonnet. “This really is too nice, my lady.”
Katherine grabbed the thing and swiftly ripped off every embellishment. “Well?”
“As you say, my lady, perfect. You no longer look like a—”
Katherine grinned when Lucy blushed, unable to finish. “A lady?” she supplied, then chuckled as the girl’s blush deepened. “Never mind, my girl. That was the point.”
“Oh, my lady, this—this worries me. Men can be awfully cheeky on the street. You will take several of the footmen—”
“Heavens, no!” Katherine exclaimed. “Beth would recognize every one of them.”
“But—”
“No, dear, I’ll be fine.”
“But—”
“I must go!”
Lucy stood wringing her hands after the door closed on her mistress. What was she a party to? Lady Katherine had never in her life done anything like this. She didn’t really know what she was doing either. Why, just last week Lucy had been accosted by a big brute of a fellow only two blocks away, and she had been wearing that very dress. If a gentleman passing in a fine carriage hadn’t come to her rescue, she didn’t know what might have happened. But that fellow wasn’t the first to make indecent propositions to her. A working girl had no protection. And Lady Katherine was leaving the house looking like a working girl.
Katherine didn’t exactly look like a working girl. In her appearance, yes, but in her bearing, no. She was still an earl’s daughter no matter what she wore. She wouldn’t know how to act like a servant even if she tried. She didn’t try. That wasn’t necessary. All that was necessary was that Elisabeth not recognize her if she should happen to look back. And she did look back every few minutes, confirming Katherine’s suspicion that she was worried about being followed. Katherine had to lower her head quickly each time. But so far, so good.
She followed her sister down to Oxford Street, where Beth turned left. Katherine kept well back, the green silk gown ahead of her easy to keep track of even when the sidewalks became more crowded.
Beth was indeed heading for Regent Street, in the next block, but that didn’t allay any of Katherine’s suspicions. It was as good a place as any to meet William, not nearly as crowded as in the afternoon, but congested nonetheless with clerks rushing to work, servants shopping for their employers, wagons making deliveries; and being a main thoroughfare, the street was quite crowded with carriages and coaches and advertisement wagons, those dreadful vehicles that caused so many traffic tie-ups in the afternoon.
Katherine lost sight of Beth when she turned onto Regent Street and had to hurry to the corner. But there she stopped. Beth had halted three shops down and was examining the display in one of the windows. Katherine didn’t dare get any closer, so she stayed where she was, impatiently t
apping her foot, ignoring the people who passed her. It was a busy corner.
“Hello, luv.”
Katherine didn’t hear him, never dreaming the fellow would speak to her.
“Don’t be snooty, now.” He grabbed her arm to gain her attention.
“I beg your pardon.” She looked down her nose at him, which wasn’t easy when he was a half-head taller than her.
He didn’t let go of her. “Hoity-toity, ain’t you? But I like that.”
He wore a suit, even carried a cane, but his manners left much to be desired. He was rather good-looking, but Katherine didn’t take that into account. Never in her life had a stranger laid a hand on her before. There had always been grooms or footmen surrounding her to keep that from happening. She was at a loss how to deal with this, but instinct made her jerk her arm back. His grip held.
“Go away, sir! I don’t wish to be bothered.”
“Now don’t put on airs, luv.” He was grinning at her, liking the sudden challenge. “You’re just standing here with nothing better to do. It won’t hurt you to pass the time.”
Katherine was appalled. Was she supposed to argue with him? Not likely. She had already made her wishes known.
She drew back the hand that clutched Lucy’s sturdy little reticule by the string and let fly at him. The fellow let go of her to jump back. He avoided being hit, but in doing so, collided with another man waiting to cross the street. That man shoved him away forcefully, with a sharp oath that stung Katherine’s ears and brought vivid color to her cheeks.
The moment her accoster righted himself, he glared at her. “Bitch. A simple no would have sufficed.”
Katherine’s nostrils flared angrily. She very nearly stooped to his level to tell him what he could do with his misplaced indignation. But she had too much breeding for that. She gave him her back, then groaned when she saw that Elisabeth had moved on during the commotion and was nearly half a block away now.
Chapter Four
Anastasia fretted at the delay. It seemed as if their coach had been stuck on this busy corner for a half-hour, waiting for an opening in the heavy congestion on Regent Street so that they could cross over and continue on their way. Their uncle’s townhouse was only a few blocks away. She could have got there quicker if she had walked.
“I hate this city,” Anastasia complained. “The streets are so narrow and always so crowded compared to St. Petersburg. And no one ever hurries here.”
Dimitri said nothing, not even reminding her that this was where she said she wanted to stay. He simply sat staring out the window. What did she expect? He had hardly said two words to her during the entire journey to London. But then he had said more than enough before they left the Duke’s country estate.
Anastasia shivered, remembering his rage. He hadn’t beat her. She almost wished he had. His anger had been just as nerve-racking.
After he had ranted and called her every kind of a senseless fool, he had said scathingly, “What you do in bed, and whose bed you do it in, is not my concern. I have allowed you the same freedom that I enjoy myself. But that is not why I’m here, is it, Nastya? I am here because you had the temerity to scorn Grandmere’s wishes.”
“But it was unreasonable for her to send me home for such a minor thing.”
“Quiet! What is minor to you is not minor to these English. This is not Russia!”
“No, in Russia Aunt Sonya monitors my every move. I have no freedom there.”
“Then I will do well to put you in the care of a husband, who will perhaps be more lenient.”
“Dimitri, no!”
The matter was not open to discussion. He had made his decision. And even that was not the blow she had been anticipating in retaliation for the inconvenience she had caused him. It came just before he turned to leave her.
“You had better hope to God that my plans have not been ruined by this unnecessary trip, Nastya,” he told her brutally. “If they are, you can be sure the husband I find for you will not be to your liking.”
And then he had been most congenial for the four days he had stayed to visit with the Duchess. But Anastasia could not forget the threat hanging over her future. It was too much to hope that he hadn’t meant it, that it had been said only in anger. A husband wasn’t too bad if he allowed her freedom and ignored her indiscretions. And at least she would be out from under Sonya’s rigidity. But a man who would demand fidelity, who would cruelly enforce his wishes on her, set his servants to spy on her, beat her if she defied him, that was another thing entirely, and that was exactly what her brother was threatening her with.
She had never suffered his wrath before. She had seen it fall on others, but with her he had always been indulgent and loving. It only showed how mightily she had displeased him in this instance. She had known he would be furious. She had known she had gone too far in disobeying the Duchess. And Dimitri’s cold silence since they had left the country was proof that he had not forgiven her.
They shared the coach alone, which only made the silence that much more unbearable. The dozen servants that he traveled with were in coaches behind them as well as those she had brought to England. There were also eight Cossack outriders who always accompanied the Prince when he left Russia, a necessity, she supposed, considering Dimitri’s wealth. They were a curiosity to the English, these savage-looking warriors with their flowing mustachios and Russian uniforms, fur hats, and numerous weapons. They never failed to attract attention to the Prince’s entourage, but they aptly discouraged anyone from bothering him.
Oh, she wished the coach would move. If she had to go home, she wanted to get it over.
“Can’t you have your men open a path for us, Mitya?” she asked finally. “So much inconvenience, just to cross a stupid intersection.”
“There is no hurry.” He didn’t look at her as he answered. “We do not sail until tomorrow, and we do not leave the townhouse this evening. There will be no scandals here in London to greet the Tzar when he visits the English Queen this summer.”
She fumed at the warning, meant entirely for her. It was the first she had heard that Tzar Nicholas was coming to England. And she had indeed thought to go out tonight, possibly her last night of freedom for a long time to come.
“But Mitya, this coach is stifling. We’ve been sitting here—”
“Not even five minutes.” He cut her off tersely. “Do stop complaining.”
She glared at him, then was amazed to hear him suddenly chuckle. But he was still staring at something out the window, so she wasn’t offended, just furious.
“I’m glad to see you’re enjoying this boring ride,” she quipped sarcastically. But when she got no response, she snapped, “Well, what is so amusing?”
“This wench fending off an admirer. She’s a fierce little thing.”
Dimitri was intrigued, but he wasn’t sure why. She had a pleasing enough figure, but unremarkable. Full breasts pushing against a too-tight bodice, a small waist, rather narrow hips, all encased in an unbecoming black dress. He saw her face for only the briefest moment, and that at some distance, for she was on the opposite corner across the street. No beauty, but a certain character, huge eyes in a small face, a determined little chin.
If not for that swinging reticule, he would never have noticed her. She was not the type of woman who usually caught his interest. She was too petite, almost childlike, except for those thrusting breasts. But she amused him. Such haughty indignation in such a little package. And when was the last time a woman had actually amused him?
Sheer impulse had him call Vladimir to the window. His man of all jobs, indispensable to him, Vladimir saw to Dimitri’s comfort in all things. He didn’t ask questions, he didn’t pass judgment. He obeyed to the letter any and all requests.
A few words to the trusted servant, and Vladimir was off. A few moments later, and the coach was again moving.
“I don’t believe it,” Anastasia said from the opposite side of the coach, well aware of what he had just
done. “Procuring whores right off the street now? She must have been exceptionally pretty.”
Dimitri ignored her sardonic tone. “Not particularly. Let us say my vanity was piqued. I like to succeed where others have failed.”
“But from the street, Mitya? She could be diseased or worse.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you, my dear?” he replied drily.
“At the moment, yes.”
Her rancor got her only a bland smile.
Across the street, Vladimir was met with the difficulty of securing a carriage and at the same time keeping an eye on the little figure in black moving steadily up Regent Street. There were no carriages in the vicinity to hire, his English was not so good, and his French not well understood. But money solved most problems and this one as well. After several tries he was able to induce the driver of a small, enclosed private carriage to desert his post, where he was waiting for his employer. What amounted to nearly a year in wages was well worth the risk to his job.
Now to catch up with the woman. Clearly the carriage could not overtake her on such a crowded street. The driver was told to follow behind Vladimir as quickly as he was able. The driver just shook his head at the eccentricities of the wealthy, which he assumed the bloke to be, to hire a carriage and then not make use of it. But with so much money in his pocket, who was he to disagree?
Vladimir caught up with the woman near the end of the street, but only because she had stopped, and for no apparent reason. She just stood in the middle of the walk, staring straight ahead.
“Mademoiselle?”
“Oui?” she said in some distraction, barely glancing up at him.
Excellent. She spoke French. Most of the English peasants did not, and he had been afraid he would have difficulty communicating with this one.
“Attend me, please, miss. My master, Prince Alexandrov, would like to hire your services for the evening.”
The mention of Dimitri’s title was usually all that was required to conclude transactions such as this. Therefore Vladimir was surprised when all he got was a look of annoyance from the woman. And seeing her face clearly now surprised him further. She was not at all to Dimitri’s taste. What could the Prince be thinking of, to want this little wren in his bed tonight?
Secret Fire Page 3
