The Bad Baron's Daughter (14 page)

“Mon Dieu, the things you say!
Mais, non
, the only thing flatter than losing is to be allowed to win.”

Katie leaned back in her chair. “I wouldn’t know about that. No one’s ever allowed me to win like that. Papa taught me, but when I got good enough to beat him, he marked the cards so he would always win. He said it was bad luck for a gambler to get beat by his daughter, but Zack says he just enjoyed cheating. Oh, listen, Antoinette, a smart trot.” Katie flew to the window as an ungainly traveling carriage pulled up below. “Oh, but the wheels are picked out in chartreuse, which Linden told me he abominates, so… Well. What an odd man, do look, Antoinette, it must be a friend of Laurel’s. No, never mind, he’s come into the house now, you can’t see him anymore.” Katie turned back from the window. “Ah, well, where were we? Would you like a new cut for the deal?”

They played for another quarter hour. As Antoinette was about to claim
carte blanche
, a lackey came to the door and informed them that Miss Steele had requested Katie to come to the library.

“Me? Isn’t there a gentleman with her? There is? Oh, but…”

“How you chatter, Katie,” admonished Antoinette. “These dreadful but-buts. Go, then, you find out why she wants you. No, not with ribbon falling like a hoyden; let me fix. Ah, there. Off with you now, but remind yourself to act like a young lady of breeding, if you please.”

Katie made a shy entrance into the library, with an inquiring glance toward Laurel and a curious one toward her visitor. The gentleman appeared to have been stuffed into his clothing rather in the manner that ground meat is stuffed into its sheath in homemade sausage. His waist, surely nipped in by a corset, proclaimed the dandy, but he was a large man so the effect was absurd. On one ruddy hand, he wore a large diamond solitaire that cried out for a cleaning.

“Katie,” said Laurel slowly. “What do you remember about your mother?”

Katie was quiet, surprised by the question, and then replied, “Nothing. All I know about her are things my father has told me.”

“Which are?” Laurel prompted.

“Umm, Papa said that she was so beetle-witted that she could hardly set one word next to another in a sentence, but she was so pretty no one ever noticed.” And that was one of her father’s more repeatable comments. Katie wondered why Laurel didn’t introduce the gentleman, who had risen politely on Katie’s entrance, and now stood shifting uneasily from one boot to the other as though he wasn’t sure whether to sit again or wait for an introduction.

“She died when you were a baby, didn’t she?” asked Laurel. “And her family, why did you never stay with them? After all, your father was not out of the teens then. Weren’t any of your mother’s relations able to help the youthful widower with his infant?”

“No,” said Katie, interpreting the question literally. “Papa said that the rest of Mama’s family were not like Mama at all; he said they were full of juice, ugly as slugs and nastier than molting weasels. Papa said his father-in-law was a damned lionizing mushroom who made his money exploiting a lot of starving miners, then got socially ambitious and bullied Mama into marrying my father because he thought it would be a great thing to have a baron in the family. When he found out that poor Papa was quite, quite
declasse
, he cut them off without a groat. That’s what Papa says,
I
don’t know; but when Papa disappeared, I wrote my mother’s father telling him about it. I said that he could find me at
The Merry Maidenhead
if he wished, but I’ve heard nothing from him, so that speaks for itself, I think.”

Laurel threw a smug, happy look at the man and waved one dismissive hand in his direction. “This… creature,” she said, “is Ivo Guy, and he claims to be your mother’s blood cousin.”

“Dearest little Katie,” said the man, coming toward Katie with his arms outstretched in an offered embrace. Even a child could have been how forced was his smile. Either Laurel had set up his back before Katie had entered or he wasn’t happy with Katie’s highly unflattering description of his family.

Katie submitted stiffly to his hug, which consisted of his pulling Katie’s face abruptly into his soiled muslin cravat, and then releasing her to arm’s length while he looked her up and down in a self-consciously paternal manner. Katie rarely held anyone in dislike, but already she was in a fair way to cordially detesting Ivo Guy. Every inch of the man bespoke the hypocrite.

“How do you do, sir?” asked Katie, tucking her hands behind her back. She had more than done her duty with the hug; shaking hands would have been too much of a bad thing.

“Very well, very well,” said Mr. Guy. “It’s a joyous meeting for us, is it not? So affecting for me. Why, you’re the very replica of your beloved mama!” Which could hardly be said to be a compliment following hard on the heels of Katie’s description of her mother as a beetle wit.

“Papa says that I am nothing like my mother,” protested Katie. “He said that I am a typical Kendricks with a puny nose, carrot locks, and freckles. Did you know my mother well?”

Laurel interrupted. “He’s been telling me what great confidence your mother reposed in him and how he got along so famously with your maternal grandfather. He seems, in fact, to be the sticking plaster which held your family together.” She sent a darting glance of dislike at him, which elicited a queasy smile.

Katie regarded Guy with new interest. “Could it be that you have come from my grandfather?” she asked.

“Ah,” said Guy, his pudgy face acquiring a lugubrious pose. “From your grandfather. No, indeed, my little cousin, because you see, your grandfather has gone to a better land.”

Katie bore this announcement prosaically. “Oh,” she remarked, sagely, “America. Papa says that it’s the most up and coming part of the world right now.”

Laurel gave a choke of laughter. “Try to be a little less blockish, Katie, the foolish creature is merely trying to say that your grandfather is dead. And well have no maudlin nonsense about it, Guy. Even the most cringing sentimentalist could not expect Katie to mourn the death of a relative she has never met and what’s more, who treated her with callous disregard the whole of her life.”

Ivo Guy coughed, looked at the ceiling, and ran a mottled hand over the flabby surface of his unshaven chin. “Most, most unfortunate. But you see, Katie, your grandfather was . . shall we say, an eccentric.”

“We shall if you like,” said Katie, “but Papa said he was a drunkard.”

“Your papa ought to know!” snapped Guy. “That’s a subject upon which he can speak with authority!” He controlled himself then, apparently remembering that this was supposed to be a joyous meeting. “But let us not quarrel, my dear. Don’t be hurt that your mother’s family made no attempt to claim you earlier in your life; it was your father’s doing. He wouldn’t let you come to us. Understandably, I feel, as you were his only consolation after your dear mama went to a better… er, died.”

“Well,” returned Katie disconcertingly, “if you think I was my father’s only consolation after my mother died, then you don’t know my father. Zack said Mama was hardly cold in her casket before Papa began a liaison with one of the housemaids.”

Guy regarded Katie with pained distaste. “I can see that your unfortunate rearing has left its mark upon you. You stand in need of a firm and loving guidance that has been denied you in these long years, which I am prepared, on behalf of your mother’s family, to supply. It was hard indeed to keep track of you while you were growing up; you moved so often, and your father was so hostile to his in-laws. But your letter to your grandfather finally came into my hands—I was the manager of his business, you see, and his correspondence is now turned over to me.”

“Come to the point, Guy,” demanded Laurel impatiently. “How do you propose to supply ‘dear little Katie’ with this firm and loving guidance?”

Ivo Guy supplied a smile that his eyes did not share and a tiny wrinkle appeared on the veiny flesh of his shiny, balding pate. “Ahem. It would seem as though you have appointed yourself guardian of this poor, displaced girl. You are to be commended for this, indeed. May I say that a woman of your, uh, posture in life is not usually expected to have concern for the homeless?” He raised his skimpy brows sarcastically and bowed stiffly to Laurel. She looked back at him as if he were a large frog flattened under a carriage wheel and tossed in her path. Guy smirked and continued, “It is not necessary for you to burden yourself any longer. Our family will care for its own.” Guy fished in the pocket of his dusty suit for several seconds, finally producing a large, official-looking piece of parchment. “I have here a legally notarized document appointing me the guardian of this unfortunate girl, so irresponsibly abandoned by her father. In short, we of your mother’s family receive you with open arms.”

“What do you mean, receive me?” asked Katie, with some misgiving.

“Why, what but give you a home? To protect and guide you as one must a young girl. It is my intention that you immediately accompany me to my home outside London, where I will place you in the tender nurturing care of my mother. Now, now, my dear, I can see you are confused, but it need not be so. We will do all within our power to make you comfortable. What could be deeper than the blood bond?”

“Mawkish ass,” snapped Laurel derisively. “There’ll be no more talk of ‘immediately.’ Katie was placed in my care by Lord Linden and here she’ll stay until he says otherwise.”

Waiting for Lord Linden’s say-so in no way figured into Ivo Guy’s plans. “I wonder, Madame, that you have the gall to admit Linden’s connection with the girl! Be blunt, if you will. What has Lord Linden to say in this matter, may I ask?”

“You may ask all you like,” said Laurel with mock cordiality, “ ‘Taut it remains not your affair.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Miss Steele,” hissed Guy. “As the child’s guardian, it is very much my affair. If you will have it out in the open, then I will admit that rumors have reached me that Linden has formed an… unfortunate connection with a young lady of Katie’s description. I think it would be better for Katie if we could forget and put behind us this regrettable episode in her life but I warn you if either he or you tries to stand in the way of my custody of Katie, I will not hesitate to approach the law! The courts will not be generous with a man trifling with a minor.”

Laurel snorted derisively. “Linden’s earldom is related to half of England. The half that counts! Try taking this issue to court and he’ll smash you like an ant!” She laughed. “If Lesley were brought to book every time he trifled, they would have to extend their hours to Sundays to handle the case load.”

Guy ground his teeth. “This is no subject for mirth, Miss Steele. We are speaking of a young girl’s purity.”

“If we are, then I wish we weren’t,” said Katie, mortified by the channels the conversation had begun to explore. “If you wish me to come with you, Mr. Guy, I will. And thank you very much.” This last was said with difficulty and an almost heroic determination. It was a favorite saying of the baron’s that “God will provide—if only God would provide
until
he provides.” Katie could only wish that God had provided someone other than Ivo Guy. But it was not her custom to question the inscrutable workings of divinity and in this case it appeared she had very little choice. She had exploited Lord Linden’s not very good nature too long already. She had been nothing but an unmitigated nuisance to Laurel. She was not so stripped of all pride as to go on and on indefinitely dependent upon their generosity. Ivo Guy at least had the virtue of being Katie’s cousin, or so he said, and Katie was sure it was true. He fit her father’s description of her maternal relatives to an inch. And to give the man credit, which Katie found herself strangely disinclined to do, he said that he wanted her. It was the first time anyone had ever told Katie they wanted her, if she discounted Lord Linden, and since the way he wanted her was the way he had wanted scores of other women, it could hardly be said to count.

Katie’s life, for the most part, had been filled with exhausting self-sufficiency. Her nature was warm and loving, and she had valued even a table-scrap of affection far more than guidance or support. These were things she had learned to function without. Katie’s greatest fear had always been that she would alienate the fondness of those she loved by becoming an unwanted burden. It had ruled much of her relationship with her self-centered, blithesome father, and now it would bear upon her relationship with Lord Linden. “Katie, you grow tiresome,” he had told her on the afternoon of her recent trip to
The Merry Maidenhead
. He could not have known it, but there was no more potent weapon to use on Katie. She had felt as though a cold metal hand had squeezed her throat. Surely it would be better to throw herself into a well than to be “tiresome” to Lord Linden.

Ivo Guy might not be a well, but he was, in Laurel’s opinion, a pit. Katie’s decision to go with him had taken Laurel by surprise. It was clear as distilled water that Katie was in love with Linden. That she would trade his protection for that of this cloddish cousin was beyond Laurel’s comprehension. She wondered briefly what motives prompted the chit. Should she let Katie go with him or not? How would Linden react if he returned and found her gone? He’d said that he wouldn’t pay for her diamonds if she threw Katie out; but releasing her to her lawful guardian was hardly throwing her out. If Katie were, in truth, not his mistress, then perhaps he would be glad to see the end of a care for which he could have little relish. On the other hand, Laurel thought irritably, it would be just like Lesley to object to any arrangements that were not of his own making. Still, if Katie had made up her mind to leave, then she would probably raise a squawk if Laurel tried to detain her, and Guy looked like he might be peasant enough to call in the courts to support his claim. Laurel had known Linden long enough to learn that there was one curious flicker of kindness in him that might lead him to take temporary responsibility for a waif such as Katie, if there was no one else to do it. Still, it was obvious what construction anyone else would place on Linden’s interest in a beautiful young woman. Laurel decided for caution and put herself on record as opposing the plan by raising numerous objections to their immediate departure.