“Yes, very much,” Charity replied. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold air and Katherine thought she looked more beautiful than ever.
“Will you come out with us again?” he asked. “You must agree Lord Brent has supplied a wonderfully quiet horse for you.”
“He is everything my uncle promised, and yes, I should like to ride again.”
“And you, Miss Stillwell, can I convince you to come?”
Charity laughed. “That will take little effort, sir, for Katy is never happier, I think, than when she is on a horse.’’
“I shall be delighted, Mr. Seaton,” Katherine confirmed.
“It is settled, then. Shall we say Thursday at the same time?”
“We do not wish to monopolize your time, sir,” Charity offered.
“Rudley and I ride often,” he said. “It will be a great pleasure to have amiable company.’’
At least one day each week from that day on, Oliver arrived before breakfast in Berkeley Square, sometimes with the earl as his companion, more often with his friend, Mr. Peter Everett. Charity and Katherine rode the same two horses, and Marie sometimes joined them mounted on her own chestnut. Each day she rode, Charity gained confidence. She soon had complete trust in her gelding and turned her attention to learning the finer points of good horsemanship.
Katherine had found no opportunity to ride in London on her previous visits. Now, thanks to Mr. Seaton, she rode often and found the exercise exhilarating. She was immeasurably delighted with the mare Lord Brent allowed her to use and pleased to see that Mr. Seaton had taken more than a passing interest in her friend Charity.
Katherine met Rudley nearly every day either at a party or during a morning ride. She enjoyed his company, for she had discovered she could speak her mind on nearly any subject without the least fear that her frankness would be misinterpreted. Sometimes Katherine had the feeling that her remarks unsettled him; at other times she laughed at herself for supposing that anything an inconsequential woman from the country could say on any subject would leave an impression upon the influential and self-assured earl.
* * * *
Katherine finished dressing early for the Marquess of Strickland’s ball. She took a few moments to add some notes to her journal, then went to Charity’s room. Charity was fidgeting impatiently before the mirror while her maid worked to fasten the intricate arrangement of curls that comprised her coiffure.
“I do not like it,” Charity complained. “It is too full on the left, too flat on the right. You must to start again.” The young maid threw Katherine a frustrated glance as she began to remove hairpins.
“Let me do it,” Katherine offered. “I know just how it should be, especially for tonight.”
When Charity offered no objection to this proposal, the maid gratefully stepped aside. “I do not think we will need you further, Molly. You may meet us downstairs with our cloaks.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”
As the door closed quietly and Katherine plied the hairbrush, she asked, “How many times did you make her redo this? It looked fine to me.”
“She has no knack with hair, Katy. She could learn much from you.”
“Do I detect a note of anxiety in you tonight, my love? Could your annoyance with Molly have anything to do with our escort for the evening?’’
Charity regarded herself in the mirror, took a deep breath, then let it out suddenly. “You are right. I am being a perfect shrew, and I
am
nervous.”
“Well, you need not be. Your dress is stunning; you look, as always, radiant. Mr. Seaton will not be disappointed.” Katherine twisted a curl expertly about her finger, then fastened it securely with a hairpin. “I have taken him off my list of husband candidates,” she offered.
“Who?”
“Mr. Oliver Seaton.”
Charity turned so quickly that Katherine dropped the next curl. “Why?”
“It isas clear as the way to the parish church that he admires you.”
“He is attentive, it’s true. But simply because a man is a gallant escort it does not necessarily follow that he has serious intentions.”
“I will not argue with you, Charity, but I know what I know, and in the end we will see who is right. There, your hair is now perfect, and if you say it is not so, I will know there is no pleasing you tonight.”
Two hours later, Katherine’s partner returned her to her place at Charity’s side. Katherine sat gratefully, arranging her skirt with care. She unfurled her fan in an attempt to cool her dance-flushed face.
She glanced at her friend—calm, pale, eternally composed. “I swear you are glowing, Charity, and have been since the moment Mr. Seaton collected us this evening. You never dance, yet you enjoy yourself at a ball more than anyone I know. How hot it is in here!”
Marie, who was seated on Katherine’s other side, leaned over to speak to both of them. “Have you heard the news? The marquess has just announced his daughter’s engagement and you will never guess who her intended husband is. Your friend, Katherine, Lord Parnaby!”
For Katherine, the heat in the room suddenly intensified; it became insufferable, unbearable.
Lord Rudley, who had walked up to claim Katherine as his partner for the next set, arrived in time to hear Miss Brent’s announcement and to catch Katherine as she slumped in her chair then slid toward the floor.
When Katherine came to her senses, she found herself lying upon a sofa in a small salon. The ballroom music continued beyond closed doors. Lady Brent’s face swam into view. Charity and Marie were there as well.
Katherine was disconcerted to discover that Lord Rudley was chafing one of her wrists. She pulled her hand away as she asked, “What happened?”
Charity answered her. “You fainted, Katy. It was the heat, no doubt, and perhaps too much exertion on the dance floor.’’
As memory flooded back, Katherine closed her eyes against the pain.
James has asked another woman to be his wife! A wealthy woman. A woman of no particular beauty, blind in one eye . . . Sir Humphrey said James would never marry me. Sir Humphrey insisted James would marry money. Sir Humphrey was right.
Hands were helping Katherine to sit upright. Along with a splitting pain in her head she fought to overcome nausea. “I need to go home,” she managed.
“Of course you do, my dear,” Lady Brent responded. “Mr. Seaton has gone to call for the carriage. As soon as you feel you can walk—”
Just then Oliver Seaton appeared in the doorway. “I have had the coach come to the side entrance, Miss Stillwell. You need not go out through that great crowd of people.”
“How considerate of you, sir,” Charity said. “Do you think you can walk as far as the coach, Katy?”
“She need not do so, Miss Harrington,” Rudley replied. “I will carry her.” With seemingly no effort he collected Katherine in his arms and followed his brother from the room, down a series of halls and corridors and eventually to a street entrance to the marquess’s mansion. The rest of the party followed quietly behind.
Katherine’s initial impulse to protest was overruled by her weakened condition. She felt childish being carried so but had no strength to resist. She managed to mumble, “I am sorry, my lord. You must think me foolish.”
“I think you are ill. There is no need to apologize.” When she began a reply, he said, “Please don’t speak. It is not necessary, I assure you.”
She said nothing as he placed her carefully inside the coach beside Charity and together they tucked a carriage rug close around her. “Shall I come with you?” he asked.
Charily smiled as she replied, “I am sure that will not be necessary, Lord Rudley. My aunt and I can help her, and we will have the footmen if we need them. Thank you. You have been most kind.’’
Mr. Seaton took Charity’s hand briefly as he said, “Good night. We will call tomorrow to see how you go on.” He closed the door, and the carriage rolled off into the lamp-lit streets.
As Rudley stood at the curb watching the coach disappear around a corner, Oliver asked, “Do you think it was the heat that caused her collapse?”
“Not at all.”
“What then?”
“Miss Stillwell has suffered a wound to the heart, and we both know, do we not, how crippling that can be.”
“A wound to the heart? How so?”
Rudley draped one arm over his brother’s shoulder, turning him back toward the house. “Come, let us make our excuses and go home, then I shall tell you all about it.”
Early the following morning Charity entered Katherine’s room without knocking and approached the bed. With the curtains closed the room was dark. She whispered, “Are you awake, Katy?’’
Katherine’s voice answered from a sofa near the windows. “I am here, Charity, and I appreciate your concern, but I would rather be alone.’’
Charity pulled one panel of the heavy brocade aside, allowing the slanting rays of the sun to penetrate. “You have been alone long enough. We need to talk.” She moved to the couch and sat beside Katherine.
“If Marie had known how you feel about Lord Parnaby, she would never have told you in such a way. She did not intend to hurt you.”
“I know, and I do not blame her. What does she think? What does your aunt think?’’
“Only that you danced too long and were overcome by the heat. I even added for good measure that you had complained of a slight headache earlier in the evening. I do not think they suspect.”
Katherine smiled weakly and patted Charity’s hand. “You are a good friend, but you do not need to lie for me.”
“I did not mind. It was only a tiny white lie, anyway.”
“How did I get into the salon?”
“Lord Rudley carried you. He was there just as you slipped from the chair. I barely realized what was happening and he had already caught you.”
“Did people stare?”
“There was such a press I do not think many even noticed what was happening. My aunt mumbled something about the heat to those nearby and someone directed us toward the private room.”
“I have never fainted in my entire life. It is so humiliating.”
“Lord Parnaby has acted with great dishonor,’’ Charity said.
“Has he? He has done what most men facing bankruptcy would do. He has decided to marry a fortune.”
“But, Katy, he should have told you himself. He should never have allowed you to find out in such a way. He owed you that, at least.”
“Did he? Did he owe me? I thought about it a good deal during the night. He made no promises to me, and although he did ask me to wait for him, I suppose he has a right to change his mind.”
“What do you intend to do now?”
“I intend to do what I started out to do. I shall cross James off my list and continue to court the other candidates.” Her voice wavered and her eyes filled with tears. As Charity reached to envelop her friend in a consoling hug, Katherine whispered confidingly into her shoulder, “I love him, Charity, I truly love him.”
* * * *
The Earl of Rudley arrived late to the grand ball held by the Duke of Stowe to launch his youngest daughter into society. The duke’s mansion in Park Lane was bursting with over three hundred guests. The earl, dressed impeccably in strict evening attire, made his way steadily through the throng, hardly realizing he was looking for Lord Brent’s party until he noticed Miss Harrington and her aunt a little distance away. When he inquired if Miss Stillwell had accompanied them, he was informed that Katherine was indeed present but that she had gone to dance with Lord Witford. This information did little to please his lordship and a deep frown settled over his handsome face.
Although on the wrong side of forty-five, Lord Witford was a moderately wealthy and considerably charming gentleman. During the past several weeks he had shown an inordinate interest in Miss Stillwell. Rudley had never cared for Witford and had recently discovered he cared for him even less when he appeared in company with Miss Stillwell. Yet despite his age and reputation, Witford would be considered a good catch for a modestly dowered woman.
Rudley spent nearly half an hour circulating through the ballroom looking among the dancers for Katherine. He finally saw her coming in from the balcony on the arm of Lord Witford. He realized, almost with a sense of shock, that she must have been with the man the entire time he had been searching for her.
He moved immediately in their direction, keeping his eyes on the pale blue of Katherine’s dress. Her gown was trimmed at the sleeves and hem in velvet ribbon of midnight blue, with the narrow skirt falling from yet another dark blue ribbon caught up under the breast. It was a lovely gown, but Rudley was not in a mood to admire it, for his brain was in sudden and somewhat surprising turmoil. None of his thoughts, however, sounded in his voice or showed in his expression as he greeted them.
“Good evening, Miss Stillwell.” With a nod to her companion he added, “Witford.” Returning his gaze to Katherine, he asked, “May I have the honor of this dance, ma’am?”
“Of course, my lord.” She inclined her head toward Witford, who nodded in return, then laid her hand on the earl’s arm and moved away with him toward the dancing.
They executed the early part of the dance in silence until Katherine remarked, “You are quite late this evening, Lord Rudley.”
“In truth, I have been here for some time, but you were, of course, engaged with Witford.” He spoke quietly but his tone was brusque and Katherine looked up in surprise as he added, “Any young lady who truly values her reputation would not spend half an hour in the company of a rake such as Witford.’’
“Come now, my lord,” she objected. “Surely if my reputation can survive numerous hours of riding in your company, it will withstand thirty minutes of conversation on a rather crowded and well-lighted balcony with Lord Witford.”
“
Touché!
”the earl replied as the steps of the dance separated them. When they came together again, Katherine found that Rudley was not ready to quit the subject. “Heed me,” he continued. “The man is no fit companion for you.”
“I hesitate to disagree with you, sir,” she protested, “but his lordship has done nothing improper. Quite the contrary, in fact. He has made me a most ‘proper’ offer of marriage.”