Follow the Heart (34 page)

Kate pulled her arm free and put it around Florie’s shoulders, giving the young woman a hug. In less than five years, her half sister Clara would be this age. Perhaps Father and Maud would consent to sending her to England for finishing school. Or, if not, sending her a few years after that so that she could debut in a London season when she turned eighteen.

A sense of emptiness had settled in her chest the moment she’d accepted Stephen’s proposal, and it grew larger and threatened to consume her every time she thought about her future as Lady Thynne. If she dreaded being near Stephen now, how would she feel in six months—a year, ten years?

“Kate, are you unwell?” Dorcas leaned forward and touched Kate’s knee. “You look faint.”

If that was Dorcas’s delicate way of saying Kate looked as if she might be sick to her stomach, Dorcas was quite right. Kate took a few deep breaths and cleared her mind from all thoughts of the future. She shuddered as the nausea passed.

“I am fine. Do not worry yourself, Dorcas.” Kate pressed her hand to her right side, where her corset boning dug into her ribs.

Dorcas leaned back, nodding as if she understood why all color had drained from Kate’s face. If Dorcas wanted to believe it was shortness of breath from her corset being laced too tightly, Kate would let her. She had confided in Nora her true feelings about the viscount—her future husband—but no one else could ever know.

The carriage rolled to a stop a few minutes later in front of a quaint building that looked as if it had been built during the Tudor era, with its whitewash and rows of dark-wood planks across the facade.

Neither Dorcas nor Florie had ever taken tea in a public hotel before, so Kate led the way in with more confidence than she felt. The matron who greeted them set her at ease and led them to a table near the fireplace at the rear of the dining room.

“Brisk wind today, aye?” The matron wiped a few crumbs from the table with a cloth she tucked back into a voluminous apron pocket. “Tea for three, is it?”

“Four,” Kate corrected. “We have another joining us.”

By the time the matron returned with a silver tea service, delicate china cups, saucers, and plates, and trays of all kinds of sweets and sandwiches, Stephen still had not arrived.

Kate did not touch the tea or food. She had no money with her, and she imagined Dorcas and Florie did not have enough with them to cover such a spread should Stephen not appear.

Her fear lasted a few more minutes, until Stephen arrived, windswept and looking rather dashing, if Kate did admit it rather grudgingly.

“I do apologize for my late appearance.” He allowed the matron to take his hat and coat before sitting. “It is good that you left the park when you did. I had just gained my carriage when a fight broke out amongst several rapscallions, causing a great melee in the crowd. It was nigh on a quarter hour before the police could settle it and clear the street.”

Thankful they’d missed the scene, Kate smiled over Florie’s disappointed expression. But the young woman quickly recovered. As she did so often with Christopher, Florie launched into questioning Stephen—about Argentina, about his cattle ranch, and about the
vaqueros
, or cowboys, on it.

“In Argentina, they are not called
vaqueros
, but
gauchos
. They are the best cattlemen in the world—and they breed excellent horseflesh.” Stephen went on to talk about his cowboys for the next several minutes. Kate finished two lemon cookies and a second cup of tea before he finished.

She wished she could find his passion for Argentina and cattle ranching as fascinating as Florie did. But after a few minutes of listening to him, her mind began to wander—wondering what the landscape was like, what kinds of flowers grew wild on the Argentinian plains.

Of course, if Stephen had his way, she would not have to wonder much longer, since they would be in Argentina by June. They had settled on the third week of May for the wedding, giving his mother almost two months to plan the wedding breakfast and make certain everyone knew of it—though she would keep the invitation list exclusive, Stephen assured Kate. Two days later, they were to sail for Argentina.

Kate’s stomach clamped down on the food and drink she’d just put in it. She still had time to end it. To come clean with Stephen about Andrew. To tell him she could not marry him when she loved someone else.

Anger bubbled up along with the acrid burning in the back of Kate’s throat. Anger directed at her father for putting her in this situation. And at Andrew Lawton for not being the wealthy viscount instead of Stephen.

Oh, yes, and she was angry at God. For abandoning her, for not answering her pleas for help, for leaving her in a field full of weeds, even though she could see a beautiful garden on the other side of the wall.

While she could make the decision to go into the garden—to be with Andrew instead of Stephen—she would then be doing the same thing to her family that God had done to her: leaving them lost among the weeds. And she couldn’t do that.

She hoped the resentment that had become her constant companion ever since leaving Philadelphia would eventually go away. But looking across the table at Stephen, she had a feeling that wouldn’t happen for a very, very long time.

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
F
OUR

C
hristopher tucked Nora’s valise onto the shelf over their seats. Nora waved at her parents, who stood on the platform and waved back. The train jerked, so Christopher sat before he lost his footing.

“I’m glad I had a chance to get to know your parents this week.” He leaned forward to rearrange the back of his suit coat so that it didn’t restrict his movement.

Nora blushed—something she’d done quite a bit of in the past six days. “I am happy they like you so well. Of course, I never doubted they would.”

Christopher raised a brow before chuckling. “I think you had your moments of doubt, my dear. Especially about your mother.” Leaning forward, he took her gloved hand in his. “But once she was convinced of how much I loved you, I believe she came around to liking me well enough.”

“They had reason for concern, given what you asked of them within the first hour of meeting them.” Nora looked around, then pulled her hand away and folded it with the other out of his reach.

Christopher leaned back and stretched out his legs, careful not to brush his shoes against Nora’s skirt. It was so good to see her out of the somber browns, grays, and blues she wore in her role of governess. The pink gown with tiny yellow flowers all over it flattered her rosy cheeks. With her hair curling over her ears and a pert hat pinned atop another pile of curls at her crown, she looked years younger—and she drew admiring glances from other men at the station and even now on the train. “But they said yes. Don’t tell me you regret your decision to accept my proposal.”

“Of course not.” Nora pulled yarn and long knitting needles out of her bag and started to work. “What will you do once we reach London?”

He watched, fascinated with the way her hands manipulated the yarn and needles to create a woven fabric. “Naturally, we will go to my uncle’s house. Tomorrow, I need to take the satchel of correspondence to the office in London. Tomorrow night is Uncle’s dinner, at which Kate’s engagement will be announced. Then back to Manchester until the end of the month, when we’ll go to London for the opening of the Great Exhibition. And you? Does Florie have lessons when you are in town together?”

Nora stopped, unraveled a few stitches, pulled up a dropped stitch from the row below, and started forward again. “No formal lessons, but we do try to practice her French and Latin daily. And I ensure she has appropriate reading material.”

This led into a discussion of Christopher’s favorite book, and they spent the next few hours talking about Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett, and other folk legends from America. When Nora started nodding off, Christopher moved to sit beside her, took the knitting needles and yarn out of her hands, and let her rest her head on his shoulder. Whenever the train stopped, they got out and walked up and down the platform, their bodies becoming stiffer and slower as the day progressed.

“Sir Anthony was the only person who thought it would be inappropriate for the two of us to travel back to London together. At least, he was the only one who voiced his concern.” Nora accepted the hand Christopher offered her and gingerly came down off the high train-car step. He tucked her hand under his elbow, and they fell into the promenade of other passengers stretching out after a couple of hours of sitting on uncomfortably firm seats.

“He’s probably right. You do have your reputation to think of. What proper family will ever hire you now, if they learn that you traveled unaccompanied to Manchester and then a week later traveled back in the company of a young man to whom you were not related?”

“Who would recognize us to know they could ruin me by spreading such rumors? After all, London is a big city.” They both inclined their heads to the older couple who’d been sitting across and two rows in front of them in the car. “Anyone who would know Sir Anthony would not be riding in the second-class car.”

“Except for people like us. We both know Sir Anthony.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” But Nora laughed anyway.

The conductor called for passengers to board the train. Christopher helped Nora up the steep steps and walked behind her back to their seats.

Five hours later, the train creaked to a stop in a dark London station.

“Wait by the baggage. I’ll go get us a cab.” He found one willing to take what Christopher could pay, especially since they had only two valises with them.

As soon as they arrived at the Buchanan house, Sir Anthony called for a cold supper to be served and invited Nora to join them at the table. Edith was the only person who declined to join them. Christopher did not miss her company at all.

After escaping his sister’s hug of greeting, he sat down and started stuffing cucumber sandwiches into his mouth. The food available along the train ride had been good, but expensive, so Christopher and Nora had not eaten much more than the basket lunch her mother sent with them.

As soon as his stomach stopped rumbling, Christopher asked for everyone’s attention, but he looked at his sister when he started talking. “Kate, you’ve always told me that I should follow my heart in every circumstance, that I’ll never go wrong that way. Well . . .” He reached beside him and clasped Nora’s hand and lifted it to rest on the table. “Nora became my wife four days ago.”

Kate still thought she might be sick. She bypassed the dining room, even though she knew Christopher left for work early this morning. Nora was not likely to impose her presence on the family until they’d reconciled to the idea that Christopher and the governess had married secretly. And no one else in the family would be down for at least another hour.

She wasn’t certain which bothered her more—the idea that Christopher did not feel he could tell her of his plans, or the fact that she now had no choice but to marry Stephen Brightwell.

Sir Anthony’s initial burst of anger had been formidable. Kate hoped Nora would not judge their whole family on their uncle’s outburst and his insistence that Christopher and Nora leave the townhouse immediately. Thankfully, he’d relented before they could make it out the door. He apologized, congratulating the couple and insisting they stay with the family for the two nights until they went back to Manchester, and again when they returned to London at the end of the month to attend the opening of the Great Exhibition.

Kate wished she could accept their news so easily.

She unlocked and pushed open the back door. The fresh air did little to quell her discomfort. She glanced around, but, as she’d hoped, the garden was empty. Everyone in the household still kept country hours, not rising for breakfast until ten o’clock or later.

She had no business begrudging Christopher his decision. After all, she’d told him he could marry Nora—that she was marrying Stephen so he could be happy. Why did she now feel as if she hated him? Why did her heart cry out against the injustice of his ability to marry whomever he pleased when she could not?

Kate needed the open spaces she’d become accustomed to at Wakesdown. Though the garden was larger than the entire yard behind their home in Philadelphia, its walls threatened to close in around her and smother her with regret over her recent decision.

At seven years old, she’d spent seven glorious months on her grandfather’s farm near Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, when her mother decided she wanted her third child born there instead of in the city. Kate had fallen in love with the outdoors. She’d sought comfort in the pasture behind the stables after her mother passed away. The orchard beyond the garden was where she’d hidden to try to keep her father from taking her back to Philadelphia. Cities reminded her of everything she’d lost.

She turned the corner around the small gazebo that blocked the southeastern corner of the yard from view of the house. Her room overlooked the street, and because each day had been full of visits, shopping, and receiving callers, she had seen only a bit of the back courtyard and flower beds from the windows in the back parlor when the family took tea there on their at-home days.