Anne Barbour (21 page)

David’s last memory of that evening of unmitigated tedium and annoyance was the voice of Lady Davenport as she wafted from the room on Regina’s arm.

“Really, my dear? I had heard nothing of it. Kate and Lawrence? But when is the joyous event to take place?”

Chapter Fifteen

Kate hummed to herself as she descended to the breakfast parlor the next morning. In the hope of meeting David there, she had arranged her hair in a becoming swirl of curls and had donned a white-lace collar to soften the severity of her mourning attire. She was therefore all the more disappointed to discover that the room’s only occupant was Lawrence, moodily picking at a plate of eggs and York ham.

“Morning, Coz,” he said indifferently as she entered. Then, as though he had suddenly bethought himself of something, he rose in some haste to pull out a chair for her.

She nodded her thanks, and prepared to seat herself, but Lawrence put out a hand to stay her.

“Looking deuced pretty this morning, m’dear.” Kate’s brows rose in surprise, and he continued in a rush. “Of course, you always look pretty. You’re—ah—a dashed pretty girl, come to that.”

Kate sank into her chair with a murmured, “Why, thank you Lawrence.” She watched in some bemusement as the young man bustled to the buffet and, brushing aside the offer of assistance from a nearby footman, poured coffee and cream into a cup and presented it to her with the air of one bestowing largesse.

“Thank you, Lawrence,” she repeated, her bewilderment total.

Having accomplished this feat, he seemed at a loss as to how to proceed. He returned to his own chair, and dropped into it with a somewhat fevered smile.

“Nice day, what?” he asked, in what Kate could only consider a desperate tone of voice.

“Very nice,” she agreed calmly, sipping her coffee. She eyed him with some misgiving. “Lawrence, what is all this— this cordiality?”

He donned an ingratiating smile. “Just trying to be agreeable, Coz. Came to me we rarely talk, you and I.”

“That’s true,” said Kate, declining to add that this was much the way she preferred it.

“So,” continued Lawrence, oblivious, “I thought we’d just have a little—you know, chat.”

Having delivered himself of this sentiment, he apparently could think of nothing more to say, and for some moments, silence reigned in the breakfast parlor.

“I’m pleased to see you in such a good mood.” Kate chose her words carefully. “You have been rather—difficult lately.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be? I mean, it makes a fellow a little testy to be choused out of his inheritance.”

“Lawrence! You weren’t choused out of anything. David has acceded to his rightful title. Surely, you don’t think he plotted to take your place?”

He slumped in his chair. “That’s easy for you to say,” he mumbled. “What if you were, say, the Queen of England, and one day you discovered you’d been demoted to scullery maid?”

At this, she burst into giggles. “Oh, Lawrence, you are so ridiculous! Such a case would not be at all similar to your own.”

“P’raps not, but it’s extremely lowering all the same.”

“I’m sure it is,” responded Kate, schooling her expression to one of sympathy. “But I know you will rise to the situation. It would be most unbecoming in you to sulk, after all.”

“Sulk?” His voice rose to an indignant squeak. “I never sulk. Anyway,” he hurried on, “I don’t want to talk about that. What do you say to a ride to the river after breakfast?”

Kate twisted in her chair to gaze at him in astonishment. This was the first time in her memory that Lawrence had ever requested her company for so much as a hand of cards, let alone a morning’s outing.

“Why, I’d like that very much, Lawrence, only I—I have an—appointment in just a little while, with David.”

Lawrence’s mouth turned down in a schoolboy pout. “Might have known. Seems to me you and his lordship are mighty thick these days.”

“No thicker than we ever were. I’ve always enjoyed David’s company.”

“Yes”—Lawrence sniffed—”even when you were a grubby brat. Don’t mean you have to sit in his pocket.”

At this, Kate set her cup down with a clatter and started up from her chair. The sparks emanating from her flaming curls and her burnished-metal eyes were almost visible to the naked eye.

“How dare you?” she cried. “I am merely being a friend to David, at a time when he desperately needs one. No other member of the family seems to care about what he’s been through, or the burden he has undertaken.”

She ran from the room, and after a moment, a stupefied Lawrence followed her. He found her in a small service room just down the corridor, brushing angry tears from her eyes. Approaching her in some agitation, he placed a diffident hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry to have offended you, Cousin,” he said placatingly. “Didn’t mean to imply you’re setting your cap at David. Just meant that—well...” He trailed off unhappily.

Kate sighed. Really, there was no point in flying off the handle at Lawrence. After all, he couldn’t help being such a— a twiddlepoop. She had picked up that word from Aunt Fred, and it seemed particularly apropos at the moment. She lifted her head to smile patiently.

“I’m sorry, too, Lawrence. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.” She turned to leave the little room, but to her surprise, Lawrence blocked her path. He had whisked his handkerchief from his pocket, and now proceeded to apply it to her eyes.

“There.” He dabbed at the last of her tears. “Glad you ain’t mad at me. Hate to have you mad at me, y’know, for I like you.”

To her vast surprise, he planted a kiss on her forehead, and then stepped back, apparently gauging her reaction to this untoward sign of affection. Kate’s eyes widened, but she said nothing, and Lawrence, encouraged, placed his arm about her and bestowed another kiss, this time on her cheek.

My goodness, thought Kate in astonishment, is he up to what I think he’s up to? She drew back, but before she could free herself, he planted his mouth on hers with awkward enthusiasm.

“Really, Lawrence!” Kate jerked her head away from him. “What do you think you’re—oh!” She whirled toward the open door. “What was that? Oh, dear, I think someone just passed. For heaven’s sake, what will the servants think to see us—”

But Lawrence was not listening. Bending himself once more to the matter at hand, he recaptured his quarry and began to fairly rain kisses upon her. His breathing had thickened, and his hands began to move on her in a way Kate did not at all care for. She twisted out of his grasp.

“Lawrence, stop! Let me go this instant. Lawrence!” With a shiver of disgust, she thrust herself away from him. “That will be quite enough of that.”

Lawrence gaped at her a moment, panting, his eyes glazed.

“What d’you mean, enough? We’re practically betrothed, you know. We can do this anytime we wish.”

“I think you must be mad!” Kate gasped. “We are nowhere near betrothed, and never shall be.”

“But Mama said—I mean, you just let me kiss you.” As though that settled the matter, he reached for her again.

“I very much wish I hadn’t,” snapped Kate, “and I certainly never shall again. Now, let me pass.”

Instead, Lawrence lunged at her, capturing one arm, and pulling her toward him. “I was right, wasn’t I?” he cried, his voice a blend of injured pride and thwarted manhood. “It’s David. You
have
set your cap at him, hoping he’ll make you the Countess of Falworth. You’ve always wanted to be mistress here!”

Kate exploded. She delivered a sharp kick to his shin and a well-placed slap across his mouth. Then, ignoring his startled yelps of anguish, she swept out of the room.

A few feet down the corridor, in the opposite direction from the one taken by Kate, David stood watching her until she disappeared into the entrance hall, then he swung about and walked slowly toward his study.

He felt as though a grenade had just exploded beneath his feet. He could not believe what he’d just seen as he strode past the little service closet. Regina was right, there
was
something between Kate and Lawrence! The image of fiery tresses nestled against a flowered waistcoat seemed to burn on his eyelids. A sour taste rose in his mouth. How could Kate have allowed herself to be manhandled by that whining fop?

He had it within his power to prevent their marrying, of course, but if Kate truly loved Lawrence ... He could barely force himself to form the words in his mind. If Kate truly loved Lawrence, what right did he have to stand in their way? Besides, he thought wearily, he would have to see her married someday—to someone. Did it really make a difference to whom? Except, of course, that as her legal guardian, it was his duty to see her wed to advantage. Which concept by no means included his ne’er-do-well half brother.

As he headed for his rooms to change for his outing with Kate, his hands remained clenched.

Now
what was the matter? Kate thought dismally. She and David had been riding for almost an hour and were approaching the ruins. David had barely said two words to her the whole time. Instead, he sat in the saddle like a bony thundercloud, responding to her every attempt at conversation with clipped monosyllables.

If he is so displeased with my company, thought Kate petulantly, why did he come? She tossed her head and spurred her horse in order to canter ahead of him. It was at this moment, of course, that David chose to clear his throat portentously. Kate reined in and turned to look at him, her glance conveying a question, as well as a certain annoyance.

David, intercepting the look, flushed slightly and said in a flat monotone, “Have you given any thought at all to your future?”

Kate simply stared at him. What in the world possessed him to ask such a question so abruptly—and during a casual outing?

“Of course, I have. At least, well—that is, not precisely. Surely,” she finished in a rush, “I have plenty of time to consider that question.”

“You are of marriageable age.”

Really, thought Kate, if his voice became any more colorless, it would be hard to distinguish it from the breeze that sighed around them.

“And, as far as I can see,” continued David, “nothing has been set in motion to secure a husband for you.”

An unpleasant quiver made itself felt in the pit of Kate’s stomach, but she forced herself to remain rigid in her saddle.

“I have always thought,” she said, her voice sharp and precise, “that if and when I decide I should like to be married, the choice of my life’s partner would be mine.”

“And when do you think you will make that decision? You are not getting any y ...”

Furious, Kate swung to face him. “Are you going to remind me of my advanced years—my lord?” she snapped. “I realize that at twenty I must be considered practically on the shelf, but I do believe I am not quite at my last prayers.”

“I am not going to remind you of anything,” he retorted, sitting very straight astride his mount despite the ache that was already beginning to spread through his frame, “except that you apparently have chosen to avail yourself of some of the privileges of marriage without first observing the proprieties of a ceremony.”

This was not at all what he had meant to say, and even to his own ears, his words sounded incredibly pompous, thus he was not surprised at Kate’s furious reaction.

“What the devil are you talking about?” she cried, her eyes sparking dangerously.

In despair, he listened to himself dig his own pit. “I’m talking about your disgraceful behavior with Lawrence this morning.”

The quiver in Kate’s stomach had now begun to resemble an earthquake. Oh, dear Lord, it had been David who had passed the service room when Lawrence had ... She could feel the blood burning in her cheeks, and her heart thudded as she observed what she interpreted as contempt in David’s eyes. A spark of anger at his accusation flared within her, and she allowed it to blaze into a conflagration of self-righteous wrath.

“You’ve been spying on me! How dare you sneak around— you have no right...!”

“I was not sneaking around,” returned David, coldly defensive. “In any case, sneaking around was not necessary, since you were so lost to propriety as to fling yourself into his arms in broad daylight—out in the open, where anyone and his dog might witness your disgraceful behavior.”

By now, each of the combatants was in a royal rage, and each experienced a fleeting and quickly squelched awareness of the danger they faced in this venting of pent-up, undefined emotion.

“Disgraceful behavior!” Kate fairly spat the words. “What about your behavior last night—ogling the luscious Lucinda as though she’d just been served up to you on a pastry plate!”

“I was not ogling,” replied David frigidly. “I was merely ...”

“And what makes you think,” Kate stormed on, “that you can pass judgment on what I do? How quickly your exalted status has gone to your head.”

Kate could have bitten her tongue the instant the words were out of her mouth. In a tiny corner of her mind, a voice cried out to mind her wretched temper, but David’s next words shattered her compunction.

“It is precisely my exalted status,” he said in a voice like splintered granite, “that gives me the right to pass judgment on what you do. In case you have forgotten, I am now your guardian. It is my duty to see you properly situated, which will become extremely difficult if you insist on comporting yourself like a—a lightskirt.”

If Kate had not been facing him on horseback, she would have struck him. “If you think,” she began, barely able to form the words for her rage, “that I will allow my actions to be dictated by your mean-minded sense of duty, allow me to disillusion you. I am perfectly capable of managing my own affairs, and I shall be happy to remove myself—and my regrettable tendency to behave like a lightskirt—from W-Westerly and your—your insufferable m-meddling!”

Kate knew that in a moment the hot tears that had been welling in her throat would spill over and, determined that David would not see how she had been hurt, she whirled about and spurred her mare into a gallop. In a very few minutes, she reached the rocky plateau. Dismounting, she ran for the shelter of the ruins and lit her lanterns with shaking fingers.