They started walking again side by side, still not descending. He was right. Kate did not want to be treated like a weak woman. She wanted to be in charge of her own life. It was clearly her sleepless night and her discovery of the perfidy of Nicholas Seyton that had set her to crying and that had led her to wishing that she would indeed be drawn into the comforting arms of her savior. Sir Harry Tate! She had actually wanted to hide her face against the shoulder of Sir Harry Tate? She must be mad. She could scarcely imagine a man who repelled her more, unless it was the Marquess of Uppington. Though she had to admit to herself that it was only Sir Harry’s character that repelled. That character was admittedly housed in a remarkably handsome package.
“I believe it would be best if you went straight back to the Abbey,” Sir Harry was saying. “The cook is a remarkably genial soul, as I discovered this morning. I am sure she will give you your tea if you ask. I would accompany you, ma’am, but our lengthy absence together might be remarked upon. And I shudder at the thought of gaining a reputation as a womanizer.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It would be too much to expect that my reputation would concern a man of your character.”
He took her by the elbow and turned her to the left so that they were going downward again. He kept a very firm hold on her. Strange, Kate thought, that such a very indolent man should give the impression by his touch of steadiness and strength. She drew away as soon as they reached the valley a short distance from the rotunda. She had no wish to feel any attraction to Sir Henry Tate. Not when she despised the man so much.
“You would do well to avoid situations in which Uppington can maneuver you into a tête-à-tête,” Sir Harry said now. “Stay close to Lady Thelma, ma’am, whenever you can. I shall set myself to watch out for your safety whenever I may. But I am quite sure that after a day or two I shall find my self-imposed task a dreadful bore.”
Kate bristled again. “You have come to my aid twice in the last few days, sir,” she said, “and for that I must be grateful, though your intervention was quite accidental on both occasions. I certainly do not ask or expect that you set yourself to guard my virtue. Good heavens, you are not my brother or my guardian or my husband, sir. I can look after myself quite well enough, thank you very much. And when I need your advice, sir, I shall be sure to ask you for it. On bended knee!”
She moved away from him so that she could keep straight on toward the house instead of turning to join the other members of the party at the rotunda. Nicholas watched her go, her head held high, her long strides almost manly. A smile of admiration played about his lips for a moment before he raised his quizzing glass to his eye to survey the picnickers and strolled lazily toward them.
He was Sir Harry Tate again.
“Thank you, Kate,” Lady Thelma was saying more than an hour later. She was sitting on the edge of the chair before the Chippendale desk in Kate’s dressing room. Her face was unusually animated. “You did it deliberately, did you not? Oh, I know it was Lord Uppington’s suggestion that you go with him and I with Mr. Moreton. But I think it was really your doing. And I am most grateful.”
Kate smiled as she sewed up the hem of a gown her employer had brought her for mending. “Did you have a pleasant afternoon?” she asked. “And did you see the cave?”
The girl flushed. “No, we did not,” she said, “though we did hear Sir Harry call. I can see the cave anytime, Kate. But marriage proposals do not come every day.”
“Marriage proposals?” Kate paused, her hand holding the needle suspended in midair.
Thelma smiled and looked quite pretty for the moment, Kate thought. “Sidney is going to speak to Papa tonight,” she said. “I am the happiest of mortals, dear Kate. I loved him when I first met him, you know. I remember he came to the house in London to see Adam the very day after we arrived. They were at university together, you see. And I loved him then.”
“He is a very quiet young man,” Kate said. “I walked with him for awhile this afternoon and had scarcely a sentence from him, though I tried several times to engage him in conversation.”
“Yes,” Thelma agreed, “he is quiet and shy, Kate. And I know that he is not handsome or charming in company-though he appears to be both to me. But I feel comfortable with him, you see. I am shy myself and I know I am no beauty and have no vibrancy of manner. But the strange thing is that Sidney and I can talk and talk to each other with never a thought that the other one will be bored or contemptuous. Wish me happy, Kate.”
Kate cut the thread from the completed repair and looked up, a rather troubled look on her face. “Are you sure that your papa will approve the match?” she asked.
“Why should he not?” Thelma asked. “Sidney is not heir to a title or to a vast estate or any great wealth, but he is the elder son of a perfectly respectable gentleman who has land and income sufficient for an independence.”
“And you are an earl’s daughter,” Kate pointed out gently.
“But only very recently,” Thelma said. “We did not have a grand home or a large fortune until Great-Uncle died. We have not changed just because of that event, Kate.”
“I do wish you well,” Kate said, rising to her feet and shaking out the folds of the light dress. “Indeed I do. And I hope for your sake that your father will accede to your wishes.”
“Oh, he will,” the girl said, taking the dress from Kate and twirling exuberantly around with it. “‘Mrs. Sidney Moreton.’ Does it not sound lovely, Kate? We are going to have an autumn wedding. Oh, it seems an eternity away. Two months or more.”
Kate watched the girl leave, and frowned at the closed door. She was not nearly as confident as Thelma that Lord Barton would approve her betrothal to Mr. Moreton. Indeed, she would be very surprised if he did. The death of the old Earl of Barton might not have changed Thelma, but it had clearly changed the new earl considerably. He would be very unlikely to accept a mere mister of small fortune for his daughter when it was very much within his power to secure a marquess and future duke for her.
Poor girl, Kate thought, destined to be denied the man she loved and to be mated with a selfish rake who cared not a fig for her.
It was almost a relief, Kate found, to be able to focus her mind on the problems of someone else and to forget her own for a short while.
Chapter 13
The Earl of Barton, sitting at his ease in the music room with half an ear on the song with which Lady Emma Worth was entertaining the company, was feeling well content. He was almost at his ease again. It had, after all, been a good idea of his to set Charles Dalrymple to finding Nicholas Seyton. He had known very well—had felt it in his bones—that that young man was lurking somewhere in the area. Seyton must have learned that two guests at the Abbey knew him, and had decided that matters were just too hot for him to stay. It would have been more satisfactory in one way, Barton supposed, to have the man under lock and key, charged with highway robbery and kidnapping. But perhaps not. Some uncomfortable facts might come to light at a public trial.
It was gratifying to know that the one man who could threaten his position had taken himself off and admitted defeat. It was doubly gratifying to know that Charles and Tate had actually seen the young man leave. Barton did not believe he would have trusted a purely hearsay report. He still could not relax thoroughly in the certainty that Seyton had gone to Shropshire, of course. But it seemed likely that he had. And the letter Lord Barton had sent there that very day would soon bring back an answer. Once he knew that Nicholas was on his property, his mind could be at ease, he felt. It would then be very unlikely that Nicholas would make any further investigations about his mother.
Lord Barton was pleased too that he seemed to have his own compulsive need to search for Jonathan’s marriage papers under control. He seemed finally to be convincing himself of how ridiculous such a search was more than twenty years after the fact. He still intended to look in the library, but only because the books needed a thorough cleaning and reorganization anyway. Mrs. Mannering had already done a small but satisfactory portion of that job. He had commended her work and listened to her suggestion for organizing the volumes according to topic. He would leave the whole task to her. It really did not matter if it took her all winter to accomplish it. A woman who was merely a lady’s companion really did not do a great deal to earn her salary.
The earl rose to his feet, applauding politely as Lady Emma’s song came to an end. He reached for her hand and raised it to his lips.
“Splendid, splendid, my dear Lady Emma,” he said. “You are a credit to the superiority of your singing master.”
