Patrick O’Rourke and Laura were much in each other’s company, which alarmed Lady Stockton a bit, Susan thought. Mama was thriving on the attention she was receiving from her old friends, and Susan made sure that she did not exhaust herself. They saw Lord Winterton frequently, and he was ever pleasant to them, Susan commented wonderingly. Kate returned the letters to her reticule and gazed out the window.
* * * *
“What the hell are we doing in London, Thomas?” Winterton asked his secretary one day.
“I think we are looking out for Miss Susan, sir,” Thomas replied blandly.
“The devil you say! My ward is doing an admirable job of that, without the least need of any assistance. I expect him to appear any day to ask my permission to wed the girl.” Winterton paced about the room slapping his gloves against his buff-colored pantaloons. “I’m fatigued with all the simpering beauties and gambling dandies. Did you send Miss Montgomery’s book off to the school?” he asked abruptly.
“Several weeks ago. We have received a grateful letter from Mr. Collins. I put it with your other letters,” Thomas replied with mock reproach.
“We shall return to the Manor tomorrow,” Winterton ordered.
“As you wish, sir. Should I send the usual regrets to the hostesses you will be depriving?”
“Certainly.” Winterton turned to leave, but Thomas stayed him.
“I don’t believe you’ve seen the
Morning Post
as yet.”
“No.”
“There is an announcement which might interest you,” Thomas replied and folded the paper to the required reading before he handed it to his employer.
For a fraction of a second Winterton felt a painful anxiety which was instantly relieved when he perceived that the Montgomery name in the announcement was Ralph’s.
“She brought it off,” he snorted and calmly returned the paper to his secretary. “We will make an early start in the morning. And, Thomas, send round a note to the Montgomerys asking if we can convey any messages from them to the Hall.”
* * * *
Kate’s journey was uneventful, and she arrived in good spirits at the Hall. Mr. Montgomery greeted her with his usual warmth and immediately involved her in his transactions for Ralph’s farm. They spent a lengthy time discussing Ralph’s engagement and the plans which were being made for the wedding. Kate asked for the latest news from the rest of the family in London.
“Your
mama and Susan write nothing but raves of their entertainments there. They will be home in June, after town thins for Brighton. I think your mother misses me, for all the fun she’s having. Perhaps I’ll join them for the last week or two and see them home. Would you like to do that?”
“Perhaps. I must think about it and let you know when the time gets closer, if you don’t mind.”
“Certainly. I imagine you would rather not contemplate another trip when you’ve just arrived home,” Mr. Montgomery suggested.
Kate spent several days pursuing those delights she could not taste so well in Daventry—gallops across the meadows, driving a team into the village, gardening in her mother’s sadly neglected flower patches.
Benjamin Karst rode over to inform them that he had signed the necessary papers and was
off to Yeovil “to make my fame and fortune,” as he told Kate when they strolled through the gardens, seeking shade. The sun was beating down unmercifully for so early in the season, and Benjamin did not allow his horse to stand for long. He placed an awkward salute on her cheek, promised to write, and begged her to offer Ralph his most sincere congratulations, before he waved his farewell.
Squinting in the sunlight to watch his retreating figure, Kate remembered a slender, ancient volume that she had found when traveling in France, and she immediately ascended to her room to dig it out from her other travel mementoes. This took a little time, as she had never spent the necessary hours organizing her treasures, but she came at last upon the book by M. Thevenot. Tucking it into her reticule, she went to the library to inform her father that she was riding over to Ralph’s farm and would return in time for dinner. He absentmindedly acknowledged her remarks and returned to his work.
Kate rode slowly, for the oppressive heat affected even the sorrel mare. As she progressed she kept half an eye on the lane and half an eye on the book she had started to peruse. The volume was called
L’Art de Nager,
and Kate was fascinated by the idea of learning to swim. She had once seen a man drown for lack of anyone being able to rescue him, and had purchased the book some two years before on an impulse. Aunt Eleanor had teased her that females were allowed only the ridiculous bathing machines at the coastal resorts but Kate had retorted, “One day I shall learn to swim.” Her aunt had cautioned her not to drown in the process, and had thought no more of it.
Upon reaching Ralph’s farm, Kate rode about for a while and checked the progress of the improvements and the state of the fields. A hard spring and more rain than usual had not been felicitous, but the new drainage was a help. When she was satisfied that all was in reasonable order and that there were no men working anywhere near the stream, she seated herself on the bank and practiced the movements suggested by the book. It was exceedingly awkward in her lengthy skirts and, taking one last look about her, she removed the blue muslin riding habit and found the one-piece under garment of muslin with its vest and footed drawers much more comfortable for her chosen activity.
Kate stepped into the icy stream and yelped “Jupiter!” rather dramatically before she became used to the temperature of the water. Actually, she acknowledged to herself, it was quite refreshing after the intolerable sun. She carefully tested the depth of the stream and found that she could stand easily all the way across, though the boulders which were strewn over the bottom did not make easy walking for her tender feet.
When Kate had wandered downstream a bit and found the deepest spot she could, she attempted to put into practice what she had been reading. It was not so easy as it sounded. Somehow one was expected to coordinate the thrusting forward together of the arms with a quite ludicrous frog-like kick of the legs, quickly following. And this, she thought bitterly, is supposed to keep me afloat. She swallowed a large mouthful of water and struggled to her feet.
Undaunted, she continued to pursue her attempts until she was managing two or three strokes in a row and was only partially sunk each time. After a while she seated herself on a large sunny boulder and let the sunlight filtering through the trees on the banks warm her. I shall have to work on this for some time if I am to master it, she thought, and the weather is not always so fine. So she determined to work on the stroke a bit longer. As she stepped into the stream once more her foot slipped and she was tossed into the water, her foot lodged between two stones.
Winterton, who had been peacefully dozing over his fishing pole in the hot sun when he heard Kate’s exclamation upon entering the water, had been roused to wakefulness and had thoroughly enjoyed her self-taught lesson. He was seated some distance down the stream, his boots negligently kicked off, and he had not intended to make himself known. Her struggles galvanized him, however, and she found strong arms lifting her head and releasing her foot. He scooped her up and placed her on the bank in the sun, brushing the dripping hair out of her eyes. She looked at him, grimaced, and said, “Aunt Eleanor warned me not to drown myself.”
He returned her gaze, noting the muslin garment transparent in its wetness, and exclaimed, “For God’s sake, Kate, put some clothes on!”
Kate, unaware of how revealing her outfit was, rose unsteadily to her feet and immediately walked away from him, saying haughtily, “Thank you for your assistance, Lord Winterton.”
Although Winterton wished nothing more than to assure himself that she was all right and to soften his hasty words, he did not dare follow her in her all-but-nude state. His view of her from a distance had been alluring in the cling of the muslin to her body; but he had not been alarmed until he had seen her out of the stream. He watched helplessly as she walked angrily away from him and, since even this view was altogether unnerving, he turned away and stomped across the stream to regain his boots.
Kate, in high dudgeon, flung on her riding habit, retrieved her horse and book, and rode back to the Hall, heedless of her condition. It was not until she reached her room, careful to avoid everyone in the household, that she relieved herself by swearing in the cheval glass as she changed out of her now-damp riding habit.
She was arrested by the sight she presented. An alarming blush crept from her neck to the roots of her hair. Oh, God, she thought as she looked on her revealed body. I can never face him again. She stripped the clinging muslin from her and wrapped herself in a towel, as she rubbed furiously with another at her damp hair. How could I be so skip-brained!
Kate managed to maintain a conversation with her father at dinner on the improvements at Ralph’s farm, but she excused herself soon after to retreat to her room. The scene at the stream went through her mind again and again, each time bringing a blush to her cheeks. She attempted to interest herself in a book, only to put it aside again. At last, before the sun went down, she crawled into bed like a wounded animal and was rewarded by the unconsciousness of sleep.
Since it was raining the next morning, her first intent, to take a ride, was doomed to disappointment. She rang for her chocolate and sat long in bed sipping it. He would call today. There was really no doubt about it. She could have him refused. That was what she wanted to do, but the hard core of shame of yesterday had given way to a milder embarrassment, as it will when an event is run over frequently enough in the mind. She sighed and determined that she would see him. Much better to get it over with. Reluctantly she climbed out of bed and donned the most demure frock she owned, a flush on her cheeks.
It was an enormously long morning. She dawdled over breakfast, discussed the day’s work with the upper housemaid who substituted while Butterfield was in London, played the dulcimer softly, and finally wandered into the parlor with a book. When a footman arrived to announce Lord Winterton, she was
almost
relieved.
He was rather formally dressed in elegant calling clothes, which stirred a memory in Kate. She could not prevent the blush which colored her cheeks, but she met his eyes unwaveringly. Her greeting was polite and her suggestion that he seat himself accepted. She had seen him suave, had seen him cold, had seen him biting and bitter, and even seen him friendly. She had never before seen him awkward, not even when she had found him in a sheet.
“I trust you have suffered no ill?” he asked.
“None.”
“I have inadvertently compromised you,” he stated abruptly, “and I have come to ask you to marry me.”
“Fiddlesticks!” she retorted with heat. “Perhaps
I
compromised
you,
but I dare say it is not the first time you have seen a . . . woman’s body.” Her color rose alarmingly. “No one knows of the incident, and I feel certain that no one ever will.”
“Nonetheless it was a most improper situation for us to be in.”
“Do not trouble yourself over the matter, Lord Winterton. It can be forgotten.”
“Can it? I doubt it. Come, Miss Montgomery, it is the sensible course for you to marry me. Who knows, perhaps a laborer or farm boy was wandering by. The tale could even now be spreading in the neighborhood.”
Kate raised her chin. “I shall have to take that chance. I checked quite carefully before I got into the water that there was no one around.”
“You did not see me.”
Kate put cold hands to her burning cheeks, and her voice came softly, “You were watching me the whole time?”
“I was fishing. That is, I had fallen asleep over my pole. I heard you exclaim when you got in the water.”
“And you did not leave? I find that reprehensible.”
“I . . . suppose I should have done so. I assure you I was a considerable distance downstream and could not see more than . . . that you were playing in the water.”
“I was not playing,” Kate flung at him furiously. “I was teaching myself how to swim.”
“Yes, I know. I will teach you to swim.”
“I don’t want you to teach me! I want you to leave me alone. I am so mortified! Can’t you see?” she cried in agony.
He stood and took her hands in his, gently. “There is no need to be. As you say, it is not the first time I have seen a woman so. You were very understanding to me the day you found me in Small Street. I would only return the favor.”
Kate smiled crookedly up at him. “Then let us have no more talk of marriage, Lord Winterton. It is unnecessary. I shall consider it fit for tat.”
“And if someone witnessed the scene?”
“I doubt even marrying you would prevent
that
gossip. I shall take my chances.”
“I would rather you did not. I am fully prepared to marry you.”
Kate tried to read his inscrutable face. “A poor basis for marriage, my lord. I have other ideas of what a marriage should be.”
“Such as?”
“For one, mutual respect.”
“I hold you in high regard.” He witnessed her flashing eyes. “Yes, there
is
the matter of the inheritance from Carl. As it would become mine on marriage, I would see that it is usefully disposed of.”
“Never! You shall never touch that money!” she threw at him.
“You should not have accepted it, or you should have disposed of it in a worthy cause,” he snapped at her.
“You know nothing of the matter, you . . .” Kate could not think of an epithet strong enough to do justice to her emotions.
“It was not honorable to accept it,” he said flatly.
Winterton was fully unprepared for the ringing slap she dealt him. When she made to do it again, he caught her wrist in a grip of steel. “That is enough. You should have thought to defend your honor before you accepted my brother’s legacy.”
“Release me.”
He loosed her hand, but his eyes remained watchful.
Kate glared at him and said, “Wait here. I have something you may be interested in.” She spun away from him and hurried from the room. Winterton watched her departure in amusement mixed with despair. He seated himself not altogether comfortably and awaited her return, his eyes wandering to the ormolu clock on the mantelpiece. She was gone exactly four and a half minutes.