“Miss,” Becky whispered, a frantic look in her eye.
“Becky, you may come in. Whatever is the matter?” Gabby said to her maid.
“No, it would not be proper. If Mrs. Parker were to find me in the drawing room, it would not do.”
“Very well,” Gabby answered, as she left her chair and walked towards the door, where her maid was waiting for her.
“I did not wish to bother you, you looked so restful in there all alone, but I need help,” whispered Becky so low that the footmen did not overhear her.
“Whatever is the matter, are you ill?”
“I am not ill, but Cook is terribly torn up. She won’t stop crying and neither will her assistants. I fear dinner will be ruined tonight if something is not done,” explained Becky.
“Why should dinner be ruined? It is not bad news, I hope.”
“It is bad news,” Becky explained, her words tinged with sadness. “That is why I need your help. I wouldn’t have asked, but I knew you were here and you’ve been so good to me in the past.”
“Becky, it is I who owe you a debt. You have never failed to keep my secrets. Tell me what it is that you require of me. If it is in my power, I shall do what I can to assist you and Cook, and the kitchen maids. My, what a problem you must have if everyone is in tears.”
“They are in tears, and they are gone, they are all out searching. If they do not return, I fear for tea and dinner.”
“Becky, you have not told me what is the matter? Why would our maids and Cook be crying? What would have prompted them to leave their stations? If my mother discovered their insurrection, she would be furious.”
Becky answered, “She would sack the lot of them, but they are too beside themselves to think about that. It’s Mrs. Gray; she’s gone!”
“Mrs. Gray, the tabby cat. She has gone? Surely you must be joking. She is a cat. I presumed they all did as they pleased.”
“They do, and she is as independent as any cat I have ever known, but she has not been seen since last night. She takes her breakfast in the kitchen, then she hunts for mice until teatime. No one has seen her today, no one at all. It’s not like her, I tell you.”
“Who can possibly know the mind of a cat, but I understand. Has the house and the garden been searched? The stables?”
“We have looked everywhere, maybe not the garden like we should, but the house had been searched again, and the stables,” explained Becky.
“If it will help, I will see to the garden. She may have located mice among the hedges. Winter is nearly over. I have observed that the birds and animals are stirring once more. She may have longed for a spring holiday, or whatever it is that cats do,” Gabby said.
“Would you do that? Would you help us search for her? Cook and I would be grateful.”
“Anything I can do to see that tea and dinner are on time as always,” Gabby said and smiled. “Have no fear. Mrs. Gray looked after herself before we arrived this winter, she may have tired of domestic life and decided to have an adventure. Besides dear Becky, I have grown fond of the cat; she and I are dear friends. I would be unhappy if anything unpleasant were to befall our resident mouser.”
Becky smiled as she said, “I will see to your pelisse and bonnet.”
Ten minutes later, Gabby was searching the garden for a missing tabby cat. Calling the cat’s name she searched the hedges, the bushes, under the trees and peered into their branches high overhead. The branches were not as brown and dull as they had they had been during the long winter. Green leaves were sprouting everywhere Gabby looked—to her delight and to her horror. She had often looked forward to the warmth and cheer of spring. For years, she had counted the days from Twelfth Night and old Christmas to Easter, anticipating the sunshine and fresh blooms of April and May. That girlish enthusiasm still leapt in her breast, but now she was filled with trepidation. She must find a husband. She had to become engaged by the end of the Season, or she would be considered a failure.
Wandering the garden, she did not see any signs of the wayward Mrs. Gray. She hoped the cat was just seeing to her feline affairs and not hurt or lost. When she thought of how frantic her maid had been, and the rebellion that happened in the kitchen because of this cat, she knew that the animal had become more than a mouser but had grown into a pet. How often had she enjoyed a cup of tea in the library on a winter’s evening after the house was quiet and all were asleep with the intrepid Mrs. Gray curled on her lap by the fireside?
As she continued her search, she eyed the garden gate with interest. Perhaps Mrs. Gray was somewhere nearby? If she had been hunting a mouse or a bird, or some other creature, she may have left the confines of the Parker property in her quest. Gabby was sure that cats did not care one whit for whose garden they intruded upon. With that idea fresh in her mind, she unlatched the gate and made her way out of the garden and past the stables. Glancing around anxiously, she was aware that she should not be seen alone outside of her garden or her house without a chaperone. Perhaps, she mused that no one would mind, or notice if she ventured onto the sidewalks in front of her own home, or to see the neighbors? She was not in any danger of doing anything scandalous if she could still see her own house.
Aware that she was at risk of being observed alone for the sake of the missing cat, she picked up her pace. From the brick carriage path that ran alongside of the house, she heard the familiar sound of horses hooves along the street that ran in front of her family’s immense townhouse. Across the street was Hyde Park, a vast green park that she knew well due to her daily carriage rides with her mother or her dear friend Barbara Anderzimple. Peering out of the shadows of her house, she was grateful that the park was not yet crowded with fashionable ladies in open carriages and gentlemen on horseback or those who were daring to stroll along the paths, dodging the traffic of crowded, narrow walkways.
“Mrs. Gray, where are you?” she called out quietly as she searched the front of her house and then looked towards the tree that shaded the front steps. She walked further along the street as she searched the trees, and the front entrances, without being intrusive of the nearby houses. She did not want to appear to be too nosy if anyone should happen to peak outside their windows. She imagined the response if she should be seen. In her mind, she could imagine the questions posed by her neighbors, “Did you see Miss Parker, peering into our windows and searching our front steps? What an odd woman, no wonder she is not married!”
With no sign of the cat, she thought of the park across the busy street. If she was to think like a cat, the park would be an ideal place, suitable for catching birds and all manner of small animals. Squirrels roamed the trees; mice were seen dashing among the bushes, and she was sure she had seen a river rat by the Serpentine once last Season. Hyde Park may be a veritable cat’s paradise, but did she dare walk into the park alone without a chaperone? Perhaps, if she was quick about it, she may escape notice. She looked both ways before she ventured across the busy street; she did not wish to be injured by a team of horses or be found alone. She pulled her bonnet down as much as she could to hide her face, stared at the ground, and rushed across the street.
Mrs. Gray had better be grateful that Gabby liked her, she thought, as she began her search. To her surprise, she saw something that resembled a gray streak leap out of the bushes and rush past her at a dizzying rate of speed. She stood there, gawking at the creature that stared at her, as she realized that she was seeing Mrs. Gray in action, chasing some poor rodent.
“Mrs. Gray!” she called out as she gave chase to the cat, who was in full pursuit of her small, furry quarry.
Gabby was oblivious to the commotion of her cries for the cat as she raced to catch the beast. This may be her only chance to secure it. She dreaded to think of what may happen to the cat if she became lost in the great expanse of the park. And she feared for Cook and the kitchen staff if the cat was not brought back safely that afternoon. Running as quickly as she could in her afternoon frock and long heavy pelisse, she was so busy chasing the ca
t that she failed to notice that the cat was running towards a pair of gentlemen who were walking along the path.
Her first response was horror. What if she knew the men? With the recognition that comes from years of knowing someone, she realized that, yes, she did. From his golden-blond hair, a shade that matched her own, to his short stature, she knew one of the strolling men quite well. However, she was not too apprehensive, one of the gentlemen was her brother, Grantham.
“Grantham! Catch the cat!” she called out.
“Gabby, what on earth are you doing?” he called out as she approached him while the cat was gaining on her prey with Gabby close behind.
“The cat, catch her quick!”
The gentleman who was walking alongside her brother deftly maneuvered himself to intercept the cat, and with a fluid motion, he scooped the feline up into his arms. Gabby was shocked that the cat did not resist as she anticipated the cat to give a fight since its efforts to secure its dinner had been thwarted.
“There, there, Henrietta, be a dear,” the man purred at the cat, as Grantham stared at his sister with a look that conveyed both humor and unabashed curiosity.
“Gabby, what were you doing chasing this animal?”
“Grantham, have you not noticed that the cat belongs to Cook? She has been lost for a day, which has upset the servants. I was retrieving the cat to ensure domestic tranquility returned to our house.”
“You are mistaken; she is this gentleman’s pet. I have seen her at his fireside these past two nights after cards at the club,” Grantham explained.
As Gabby was prepared to argue with her brother, she glanced at the gentleman who was standing beside him. The same man who had easily subdued and placated the wayward cat. There was a familiarity about him, but she was not yet calm or willing to give way in her argument. “Grantham, the cat has been with us since we came for the Season. You have arrived from Ireland less than a fortnight ago, how can you make assumptions regarding the ownership of the cat?”
“I presume you may be correct, but she has been at the home of my acquaintance, Mr. Foxworth.”
Foxworth.
Gabby’s jaw dropped, but she quickly recovered as she whipped around to stare at the man who was holding the cat. He smiled at her with that same smirk she recalled from the ball. He was not dressed as a highwayman, but she could see the resemblance to the man she met when he had been dressed as a villain. The same deep brown eyes, the same strong jaw, the same masculine figure even as he was petting a cat.
“Shall I introduce you since you share an interest in this animal? It was my intention to make the introduction at tea, and perhaps a game of cards. Since you are here and so is he, the park will do for formal introductions,” Grantham announced.
“Thank you, but we have been introduced,” Gabby answered.
“Have we? I do not recall,” Mr. Foxworth answered with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
Gabby wanted to challenge him, but she had the matter of the cat to settle. A matter which served as a much-needed distraction since the sight of him caused her to desperately reel from the pleasant sensation that surged through her body. This powerful reaction was brought on just by his smoldering glance, and his smile, which was astonishing, as was the appearance of the man. His smile and his gaze were not the only traits which drew her to him. His gentle way with the feline was also quite touching, as it conveyed a kindness in his nature and a compassion she did not expect to see in such a man.
“You say that your cook believes this cat to be hers? I am not surprised; she is rather social for one of her kind. I found this dear sweet girl on my doorstep when I arrived in London. How amusing to think that she may have more than one person who claims her. With her cheerful disposition and her talent for mousing, I should not be astonished. How providential that I have been invited to your home so that your cook and I may come to an agreement about Henrietta.”
“Mrs. Gray. Her name is Mrs. Gray,” Gabby insisted, puzzled and slightly insulted that he did not recall meeting her or that he did not wish to acknowledge her. Clearly, he meant that as an insult, or meeting her had not been as memorable as he had claimed it would be.
“Mrs. Gray, Henrietta, I wonder how many more names she has? James Foxworth, this woman who is disputing ownership of your cat is my sister, Miss Gabriella Parker. Gabriella, this is James Foxworth, newly arrived from Ireland. There we are, you have been introduced. Come on, you two may spend tea arguing over this cat. I am famished,” Grantham said, as he led the way through the park.
Gabby followed him, feeling slighted by Mr. Foxworth. How could he not recall their meeting? It had been all she could think about for two days. As she felt her indignation rising, she caught a glimpse of him. He was smiling at her, not in a malicious way, but in a bemused manner, which suggested that he did recall meeting her — even if he had not said it aloud. As she considered confronting him, he turned away from her, murmuring to the cat as they crossed the street. It was then that she realized that he was going to be inside her house, in the drawing room! What would she do if any of the three gentlemen she had met at the ball arrived unannounced?
8
The matter of the cat was soon settled. Cook had returned, and so had her staff, looking forlorn and sad that the cat disappeared for good until the arrival of Mr. Foxworth and the wayward feline changed their moods. An agreement was immediately reached. It was decided that the cat did not belong to anyone, but she was welcome at both houses and could keep both of her names. With Mrs. Gray, also known as Henrietta, ensconced in the kitchen enjoying a piece of haddock with cream, Mr. Foxworth, Grantham, and Gabby were at liberty to have tea.
It was not long after tea was served that Grantham insisted that Mr. Foxworth examine a book from his personal collection. The excuse her brother made about retrieving a volume of rare drawings of the fauna of the African continent was pitiable but endearing. Or at least Gabby assumed it had been an excuse, as she suddenly and unexpectedly found herself alone with Mr. James Foxworth in the drawing room. For how long, she could not know. Her mother was due to arrive at any moment, with her arrival would come an arrangement of formal tea and not this impromptu one of sandwiches and cake. There would be visitors, mainly matrons. And if anyone should call, such as Mr. Fenton, Mr. Mabrey, or Mr. Gladstone, Gabby would have no choice but to receive them.
With so many thoughts filling her mind, she still managed to be incapable of ignoring Mr. Foxworth or avoiding his gaze, which was direct. He was looking at her, studying her, but not in a way that made her uncomfortable only curious. With no one in the drawing room to witness her or his words since the footmen were outside the door, she rejected all propriety, as she asked, “Why did you tell my brother that we had not been introduced, Mr. Foxworth? Did you mean to insult me?”
He did not hesitate to reply as he coolly smiled at her. “Miss Parker, I would think a clever woman like you would have understood the reason for my denial of our acquaintance. Your reputation comes to mind.”
“You did not mean to deny me as a slight? After our conversation, I do not know what to believe about you. You said a great deal to me that was unexpected coming from a gentleman.”
“You presume that I am a gentleman?” he said with a raised eyebrow.
Why did he have to be handsome, even when she had the distinct feeling that he was teasing her. He was the most infuriating man she had ever met. She was riveted by him and angered. “I presumed that you may be a gentleman, Mr. Foxworth. You were a guest at the home of my dear friend Barbara Anderzimple. And now I have learned that you are known to my brother Graham, that you play cards at his club. Who else but a gentleman would be welcome at these places?”
“I may be a well-placed merchant or a former officer. You have yet to inquire as to my prospects or my property, Miss Parker?”
“I care for neither subject. As you seem to know a good deal about me, from the identity of my father, whom you expressed to knowing at the ball and my name, I c
an presume that you know of my dowry, sir. It is no secret that it is considerable. I have been warned that it may draw a certain sort of man.”
“Miss Parker, are you suggesting that I am that sort? A fortune hunter?”
“I am suggesting that matters of your wealth or property do not interest me, Mr. Foxworth. I do not think it likely that you would wish to formally make your intentions for me known. If you did, you would have been careful to maintain decorum. If I accepted you, you would not hesitate to speak to my father. If you are a fortune hunter, my father would immediately dispense with you.”
“You are most unusual. Regrettably, I am accustomed to women seeking to learn of my worth as a lioness studies a herd for weakness. You profess to not being concerned with my prospects. Can that mean that you do not consider me to be among your suitors, or that you have dismissed me since you believe me to be without means?”
She was sure his words were meant to shock her. She did not believe that a man as handsome and dashing, or as fashionable, as Mr. Foxworth could be sincere in his admiration for her. It was Gabby’s turn to study his clothes, his jacket, which was tailored. His boots, which appeared to be of the same manufacturer as those worn by her brothers, handcrafted by a superb bootmaker in London if she recalled correctly. This man Foxworth had an eye for fashion and the money to spend on it as she observed and said, “You are stylish, but your clothes may be purchased on credit. You may be card shark or some other mercenary sort of man who possesses the trappings and mannerisms of a gentleman without the means.”
He laughed, that same deep hearty laugh she recalled from the ball. “You believe me to without means? Are you implying that you would not consider me because you think me be too impoverished or down on my luck, Miss Parker?”
“If you are not, then why associate with my brother Grantham? Do not mistake me, I am not disloyal to my own brother, but I am a practical sort of woman when it comes to such matters. Grantham is a dear man, but he is the fifth son of my family. He is not without means, but as you might imagine, they are not as substantial as my eldest brother. Grantham has his investments, which I cannot profess to understand. I am not insulting him. On the contrary, he has been successful, but he is the gentleman you have chosen to associate with among the hundreds in the ton? That would suggest that you are also the second or third son of someone of wealth. You are a guest of the Anderzimples. If you were prominent and wealthy, would you be among us, the untitled, or would you be at court? I can presume that you have come to London to make your fortune through an advantageous marriage.”
Regency Engagements Box Set Page 34
