In the Shadow of Arabella Read online

  “It was something you said the other day about how changed she was from your previous meeting. And you danced with Milicent only once the other night—that is a deviation from the norm for you. Also, after your dance with Miss Stillwell, I addressed no less than two comments to you that you never heard. Your mind was elsewhere. I assumed it was on her.”

  “Your powers of deduction are uncanny,” Rudley returned. “You should offer your services to Bow Street.’’

  “No. My powers only work well on you, and you are not likely to be on their list of dangerous criminals.’’

  “Nevertheless,” Rudley insisted, “my thoughts may as well be written on my forehead, you read them as easily.”

  “Lady Milicent will not be best pleased if you transfer your affections to another,” Oliver warned.

  “Let us not get the cart before the horse, dear brother. A passing interest is a far cry from affection. Besides, I have made no promises to Lady Milicent.’’

  “You have done enough to make the tabbies sit up and take notice,” Oliver persisted. “Lady Carstairs has been walking about lately with a perpetually smug look on her face, much like a cat at the cream bowl. It is clear that she, at least, expects an announcement soon.”

  “Lady Carstairs’s expectations are not a matter of great import to me.”

  “You will remember I warned you about Lady Milicent. Spending time with her is rather like playing with a poisonous snake—provocative and entrancing, but deadly dangerous.”

  Never during his acquaintance with Lady Milicent had Rudley considered her as a possible mate. Even though she was an enticing creature with many good attributes, she had two outstanding qualities that he knew would cause disharmony between them: she was exceedingly proud and she was excessively self-centered. She was always on her best behavior with him, yet he was shrewd enough to recognize that life with her would be stressful.

  Unlike some of his friends, who viewed marriage as a necessary inconvenience, something to be pushed as far into their future as the pressures of family and society would allow, Rudley had always considered it a desirable state. His parents had shared a long and happy marriage, and his sense of family was strong.

  As a young man Rudley had assumed he would marry and that his life would follow, more or less, the pattern set by his parents. He had entered into his early marriage with the blind enthusiasm of extreme youth, and when that union ended in disaster, he had accepted full responsibility. While not abandoning the idea of marriage, he had resolved to make his next choice with cool deliberation. His first wife he had chosen neither wisely nor well; if ever he married again he was determined to do better.

  When Lord Rudley and Mr. Seaton arrived in Berkeley Square two days later, they were informed that her ladyship and Miss Marie were out but Miss Harrington and Miss Stillwell were at home. The purpose of their visit was soon revealed and Charity, not unexpectedly, tried to refuse the invitation. However, with Katherine supporting Oliver in his entreaties, she finally yielded, and the following morning was set for a short excursion to Hyde Park.

  The day proved fine, the gelding was everything Oliver had promised, and Charity actually enjoyed herself. Katherine was equally delighted with the bay mare Karma. As Oliver rode beside Charity, reining in his black gelding to match her horse’s plodding pace, Rudley and Katherine rode ahead.

  She reached forward to run a gloved hand down her mare’s neck. “Lord Brent tells me that Karma is only a three year old, my lord. He also said you personally vouched for my ability to handle her.”

  “You must not forget, Miss Stillwell, I have seen you with one of Rolly Beecham’s fiery thoroughbreds in hand. Believe me; I have no concern that you will spoil that filly.” It was unquestionably a compliment, but before she could respond he continued, “Were you at Beecham’s this year?”

  “Yes. We had a wonderful time. But you were not there.”

  “No. I had personal business that kept me in town.”

  “You missed some excellent weather and many marvelous runs.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But tell me, did Rolly have some unmanageable horse all picked out for you to gentle for him?”

  She turned to regard him. “Why do you ask?”

  “I was so impressed with the bay gelding you rode last year that I asked about him. Rolly told me that you were responsible for his fine performance that day.’’

  She smiled, allowing him a glimpse of the easy humor he remembered. “He was being rather unpleasant with the stable lads,” she said, “but I was most anxious to try him. He tested the limits of my skill, though. He nearly threw me twice.”

  “Rolly did not tell me that.”

  “I did not tell him! I was afraid he would not let me ride Wizard, and I wanted to, desperately. He went splendidly!”

  “He certainly did. And I will not soon forget your riding. I have seldom seen a better seat.”

  She flushed with pleasure. “Why, thank you, my lord. Coming from such a noted horseman I consider that rare praise, indeed. The horse you hunted at Lord Beecham’s—he was impressive, too. What was his name?”

  “Tortuga. He is a steadier horse than your Wizard and a bold jumper. He seldom refuses and has wonderful stamina.”

  “I would be terribly disappointed if I had to miss Lord Beecham’s house party,” she continued, “I so look forward to it.”

  “Does your family keep any hunters?” he asked, knowing the answer but not wanting her to know that Beecham had shared such personal details with him.

  “My father had several handsome hunters when I was young, but my parents are both gone now. There is only my younger sister and I, and I am afraid our budget does not allow for a stable.”

  “How old is your sister?”

  “Seventeen, almost eighteen. She attends Westleigh Academy in Lincoln.”

  They suspended their conversation as heavy traffic forced them to ride single file, the earl checking his horse while Katherine went ahead. Once inside the park they rode abreast again and Katherine was the first to speak.

  “I had a hunter of my own once,” she said.” When he cast her a quizzical glance, she half smiled again, remembering. “I suppose I must explain that. My father loved to hunt, and I think he wanted a son, but he had me, and he found I loved horses as much as he did. I begged him to teach me to jump—and in time, he agreed. When my mother objected, he said that if the Empress of Russia could ride astride, he did not see why I could not do so as well, seeing as I had my heart set on it. I dressed in my cousin’s breeches and started on a pony. Eventually my father bought me a horse; his name was Jeremy. It was the name he had when my father bought him, and we never changed it because he knew it well and answered to it.” The tone of her voice changed subtly. “He had to be sold when my father died.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “More than ten years.”

  “Ten years! You were very young to be handling a hunter, surely?”

  “I was young, nevertheless he was all mine,” she said proudly. “He was just under sixteen hands. I had to climb a fence to mount him, but we had some grand times together.”

  Rudley was pleased with the direction their conversation had taken. “Did you live in Lincolnshire as a child?”

  “No, my father’s home was in Devon, situated in rather indifferent hunting country. But Jeremy and I managed to find some obstacles worthy of us.”

  “Such as?”

  “I really should not tell you. I was out of favor for weeks as a result of one course we chose.’’

  “Now I must know, for you have piqued my interest unfairly.”

  “Very well, I will tell you, but you must remember I was only eleven at the time and I had a horse that loved to jump. There were a few hedges and fences about the countryside, but the most tempting obstacle in the entire neighborhood was the lovely stone wall surrounding the church cemetery. It was only a short gallop through the woods behind our house and then over the wall we would fly
. Once inside there were all those marvelous tombstones, spaced just far enough apart. I went early in the morning when no one was about and I was never seen … until one unfortunate day.”

  “What happened?”

  “One of the village children had told me how she occasionally avoided going to church by feigning illness. If you knew how boring our minister’s sermons were you would understand why it sounded like a marvelous suggestion.

  “So one Sunday morning I tried it on my mother and it worked. She tucked me up snugly in bed and went off to morning service with my sister and my father. No sooner were they gone than I dressed and ran down to the stables for Jeremy. We rode far afield, avoiding the church and all the roads leading to it.

  “When it neared time for the service to be over, I turned toward home. I had a few minutes remaining so I decided on a quick gallop through the woods. Before I came too close to the church I started to pull Jeremy up, but he would not stop! He had galloped that way so often and enjoyed it so much that he was determined to finish our regular course. I was not strong enough to hold him, and I was too much of a coward to jump off. Over the wall we sailed and over the tombstones in full view of half the congregation flowing out of the church onto the lawn outside. Jeremy never slackened his pace. He galloped through the cemetery, over the wall again, and home through the woods to the stables.

  “The scene when my parents arrived home was as unpleasant as you can imagine. I was forbidden to see or ride Jeremy for a month, and I had to apologize to the minister.’’

  As she finished her story, Rudley laughed aloud, and she continued, “You may well laugh, my lord, but my favorite ride ceased on that day. When I was permitted to ride again, I had to promise to go nowhere near the cemetery and, in fact, never went there again. At least not until my father … until the funeral.”

  His laughter dissipated as he asked gently, “How did he die?”

  “It was the influenza. Mama had a miscarriage, and she was not strong. She caught it first, then Papa took it while he was nursing her. The servants would not let me go near them … Mama slowly recovered, but I never saw my father alive again. I was angry …”

  Katherine had been unconsciously gathering the reins and now Karma tossed her head in protest. The mare bumped the earl’s stallion with her hindquarters as Katherine brought her under control again. She quickly apologized. “I am sorry, my lord, I should pay more attention when I am on a strange horse.’’

  “You are doing well with her. I’m sorry about your father. I did not mean to distress you.”

  “You did not. It is only that I seldom speak of my parents.” She turned to look at him then, wondering why she was talking to him about them. He was almost a stranger.

  The conversation stalled. In an effort to turn it away from herself, Katherine said, “Lady Brent mentioned that you have a daughter, my lord. How old is she?”

  “Pamela turned ten last December.”

  “Does she ride?”

  “She has a pony.”

  “Does she enjoy horses?”

  “I really could not say. I have never discussed it with her.”

  “I see.”

  Her tone indicated most clearly that she did not see at all and he felt obliged to add, “I do not see my daughter often, Miss Stillwell. She lives at my country seat in Hampshire.” As an uneasy silence fell between them, Rudley realized that although he had been intrigued by Miss Stillwell’s disclosures about her personal life, he felt acute discomfort when led to share his.

  Katherine remembered Lady Brent saying that Lord Rudley did not seem a fond parent—it appeared her ladyship was correct. Katherine was momentarily at a loss for words. Hoping to return to a safe subject, she admired the earl’s horse. “That is a handsome fellow you have there, my lord, and well-mannered, too. He did not even object when Karma jostled him.”

  “This is Navigator. He is one of my favorite mounts in town. I make an effort to ride him every day.”

  Having reestablished an easy topic between them, they continued the ride enjoyably. Katherine rode part of the time beside Charity, but when they were nearly home, Oliver brought his black up beside them. “Have you enjoyed the ride, Miss Harrington?”

  “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.