A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance (12 page)

Sergeant Jones stood straighter, his chest swelling with pride in his calling. The subordinates followed his example. Sally resumed gazing soulfully at Sergeant Jones.

“And we are deeply grateful for the protection you provide for us all, Sergeant Jones,” Katherine assured him. “But we are not in the smuggling business, as you can clearly see.”

“I am sure that you aren’t, ma’am, but I have my orders and I must obey them. The lieutenant said to follow one of the gang who came this way while the others are rounding up the ringleaders.”

“Be quick about it, then.” Katherine concentrated on interjecting an imperious note in her voice to keep it from shaking. “My great-aunt, Miss Summersville, is in frail health and needs her rest, as does my young nephew.”

“Maddox,” Sergeant Jones addressed a subordinate, “remain here and see that no one exits the house. Brown,” he motioned to the other, “come with me. We’ll begin our search in the attic.”

At that moment, Princess wiggled free from a stunned Sally’s grasp and bounded up the stairs after the troopers.  

“Get that dog,” Katherine hissed at Sally in desperation.

Private Maddox took his place beside the front door.

Katherine prayed that searching the cluttered attic would satisfy Sergeant Jones’s sense of duty and turned to reassure Aunt
Prunella
and Hephzibah. Promising them that there was nothing about which to be concerned, she coaxed them back into Aunt
Prunella’s
room, all the while listening for confirmation that the search was still confined to the attic.

When Katherine returned to the front hallway, Sally was coming downstairs holding a rebellious Princess. Miguel had fallen asleep, but Katherine did not want to put him back to bed until the riding officers had left and there was no chance for more uproar to waken him. She settled resignedly on a chair by the tall hallway clock, which showed it was seventeen minutes past three. In all the commotion, she had not even heard it chime the hour. Sally sat on a stair, holding on to Princess.

Just as Katherine heard the clatter of boots on the steps coming down from the attic, the front door opened and Lord Dracott
entered,
his face as grim as an executioner’s. He paid no attention to Katherine or Sally, who fled to the darkest corner of the hallway at his appearance.

“Just who gave you permission to trespass on my property?” he bellowed at Sergeant Jones, who, to his great misfortune, had arrived at the foot of the stairs just as Lord Dracott made his dramatic appearance.

Even though the young riding officer must have known, as did Katherine, that no permission was required to search for a smuggler, she watched with satisfaction as the sergeant tried in vain to find his voice. His face was ashen, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

“It would appear that, even without my permission, you have thoroughly searched the premises, Sergeant.”

Lord Dracott had lowered his voice to a soft purr that was more menacing than his bellowing.

“Actually, my lord, we have only just searched the attic. We have yet to search the other rooms,” Sergeant Jones choked out.

Katherine reluctantly admired his tenacity in spite of the fear that made her heart pound. She busied herself patting Miguel, wakened by Lord Dracott, who for the first time since his arrival, turned to her.

“Miss Brampton,” he executed a courtly bow, “
pardon
my abruptness…no, please, do not bother to get up, I see you are attending to the child. I assume that you can assure the sergeant here that you are not harboring a smuggler. Am I correct?”

“You are, Lord Dracott.”

Katherine could scarcely speak above a whisper, grateful that the shadows of the hallway obscured her face. She was not accustomed to telling bald-faced lies.

“There you have it, Sergeant,” Lord Dracott announced heartily to the uncertain riding officer. “You had better get on your way in your search. Heaven only knows how far the wretch could have traveled while you have been disrupting a respectable ladies’ household.”

There was nothing more the riding officers could do, having been summarily dismissed by a peer of the realm. With perfunctory bows to Katherine, they departed. Sally bolted for the kitchen, dropping Princess as she went, leaving Katherine to face Lord Dracott with what dignity she could muster.

Unshaven, hair uncombed, eyes hooded: he was a menacing presence.

“Thank you, Lord Dracott,” she said hoarsely. “How in the world did you know we needed your assistance?”

“How did I know? With
all the
racket, who does
not
know? The entire village must know! Wharton’s deaf housekeeper probably knows! Now, Miss Brampton, is there anything else
I
should know?”

Katherine understood precisely how poor Sergeant Jones felt when he had been the object of Lord
Dracott’s
wrath. She was still holding Miguel, and she clung to him tightly to stop herself from shaking. All she wanted to do was rid her house of this angry man, put Miguel to bed, retrieve Jimmy from the priest hole and warn him sternly to never jeopardize her household again, before collapsing in her bed.

“There is nothing more you need to know, Lord Dracott,” she declared firmly. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a frightened child who needs to be put back to bed.”

She was as relieved to see the door close behind Lord Dracott as she had been to see it close behind the riding officers.

Katherine was exhausted, so weary that it took all the strength she could muster to look in on Aunt
Prunella
and Hephzibah and promise them once more that they had nothing to fear, fetch Sally from the kitchen, and settle Miguel back in his bed, assuring him that Sally would be just across the room if he needed her.

She resisted the urge to go immediately to free Jimmy from the priest hole. It would do him no harm to suffer a little while longer, and it would be wiser to wait until she was sure Sally was asleep. The fewer people who knew about that hiding place, the safer they all were. She made a mental note to swear him to secrecy as she made her way back downstairs to lock up before retiring.

Princess raced downstairs ahead of her and disappeared into the front parlor.

That is strange,
Katherine thought. She was certain the door to the front parlor had been closed all evening. But when she reached the foot of the stairs, she saw candlelight and a figure sitting in the large chair by the hearth: Lord Dracott.

He stood as she entered, bowed, took the candle from her hand, and placed it on the mantel. He gestured for her to sit in the lady’s chair opposite his. Katherine sought frantically for something to say…something that someone with nothing to hide would say.

“I thought you had left, Lord Dracott.”

Not a bright thing to say, but true. She glanced down, not wanting to meet his stony, silent glare. Princess was sniffing at the baseboard of the panel beside the fireplace.
Of course.
Priest holes usually had more than one entrance and exit. She had not thought of that. How could she distract the spaniel without drawing Lord
Dracott’s
attention? It was too late. He was studying Princess.

“That was my intention, Miss Brampton. I
meant
for you to think that I had left.”

His voice was the same menacing purr he had used with Sergeant Jones. Icicles were warmer.

“You see, Miss Brampton, I was quite sure that the riding officers’ suspicions were true. Before I entered your home so dramatically, my batman, Patterson, and I had performed a careful examination of the path leading up to the kitchen door. There was a clear print of a boot, Miss Brampton.
An interesting boot print.
The print of a boot too large for a lady or a child.
Too small for a grown man.
The print of a boot that would be just the right size for an older boy who has more nerve than sense.
One who is always eager to make a shilling or
two.
”

Lord Dracott stood, his shadow against the parlor wall blending with his height as he leaned over Katherine, hands on the arms of her chair.

“Lie to the riding officers, Miss Brampton. I expected and wanted you to do that. But
don’t you ever lie to me
!” he growled.

Without waiting for her answer, Lord Dracott picked up Princess, tossed her into Katherine’s lap, and reached over to the panel beside the fireplace, where he knew exactly where to press. Katherine heard a familiar creaking sound and the panel opened.

“Must have those hinges oiled,” Lord Dracott muttered.

“You may come out now, Jimmy!” he commanded.

Jimmy Stokes emerged, ashen and shaking.

“Not a word from you!” Lord Dracott ordered.

He took the boy by the collar and dragged him to the parlor door, where Patterson, unnoticed, had been waiting.

“Take him to the Hall and don’t let him out of your sight. I’ll be there presently, after I attend to a little matter here,” Lord Dracott ordered, thrusting Jimmy at Patterson.

Katherine had heard and seen enough of his lordship’s high-handed ways. She stood to confront him.

“What do you intend to do with that poor child?” she demanded in an angry whisper, trying not to waken any members of the household.

“’Poor child’ is hardly how I would describe an irresponsible young man who leads riding officers onto my property, Miss Brampton. I will see to it that his performance of this evening is never repeated. Your sympathy for him is badly misplaced. Just what did you intend to do with him when you freed him from the priest hole? Had you considered that problem, Miss Brampton? Even
you
must realize that he could not remain here. His presence would be an announcement to all that Jimmy Stokes was the object of the riding
officers
search of the Dower House. They would be back here in a heartbeat. And
you
, my dear Miss Brampton, would be an accessory to his crime. Have you taken leave of your senses?”

“I had everything under control, Lord Dracott,” Katherine countered. “If anyone is calling attention to the incident it is you.”

“Just what do you think would have happened if I had not arrived when I did, Miss Brampton?”

Katherine would have nightmares for years wondering what might have happened without Lord
Dracott’s
timely appearance, but she had no intention of admitting that to him. It was not the point of the matter at all. The point was his total lack of appreciation for her quick-witted response to an unforeseen emergency and the likelihood that he planned to take out his anger on Jimmy Stokes, possibly ruining the boy’s life. But before she could frame her thoughts in words, Lord Dracott answered his own question.

“I’ll tell you what would have happened, Miss Brampton. The riding officers would have searched every room of the house. And even if they had no suspicion of a priest hole, that busy spaniel would have betrayed you. Smuggling is a hanging offense, Miss Brampton. I probably could have been able to get you off, but who knows? And what thanks do I get for rescuing you? When I plainly asked if there was anything I needed to know, you looked me straight in the eye and
lied
, Miss Brampton.
Do not ever try that again with me, do you understand?
”

All Katherine understood was that she could not bear one more second of Lord
Dracott’s
angry harangue.

“I understand much more than you give me credit for, Lord Dracott. I understand that I responded quickly and with ingenuity to an emergency that threatened the safety of all those that I care about in the world. I was grateful for your intervention. But I had no intention of exposing Jimmy Stokes to your tender mercies. And now I see that my judgment in that matter was absolutely correct.

“And furthermore, my lord, if this is the way you habitually treat people in your care, I can say for a certainty that I am not the wife for you. I think we should abandon any consideration of marriage.”

“I’ll not argue with you on that point,” Lord Dracott retorted over his shoulder as he strode out of the parlor and slammed the door.

When Katherine entered the kitchen the next morning, she found a morose Sally weeping silently as she spooned porridge into Miguel’s bowl.

“I know you must be worried sick about Jimmy, Sally, but all I can tell you is that the riding officers did not find him. Certainly that relieves your mind a little.”

“It’s not Jimmy that’s got me down this morning, Miss Brampton. It’s that faithless Sergeant Jones.”

Sally put down the porridge pan and wiped her eyes on her apron.

“We
wasn’t
actually
courtin
’, but he made me think he really cared for me, if you know what I mean. And then, when he
coulda
shown his caring—his attachment for me—you might put it, he wouldn’t
so
much as glance my way. Well, not for long enough to make a difference. He was all full of duty and orders from his lieutenant. I’ll never trust a man again, Miss Brampton.”

Sally buried her face in her apron.

Hephzibah entered the kitchen at that moment and cast a censorious glance at Sally.

“If you are to become an adequate lady’s maid you will have to learn to control your emotions,” she instructed the weeping Sally, then informed Katherine that Miss Summersville would be remaining in bed for the day due to the shock and upset she had sustained the previous evening.

“So, Sally, my dear, you will have to pull yourself together to keep the house functioning while I devote my time to seeing to Miss Summersville’s needs,” Hephzibah advised as she departed the kitchen.

Sally lowered her apron and made a face at Hephzibah’s retreating back.

Katherine knew she had to get out of the house to keep her sanity.

“I must go to the village to pick up those shoes for Miguel.” Katherine kissed the boy on the top of his head. “I’ll leave Princess behind to keep you company.”

Miguel looked up at her silently.
He understands what I say,
Katherine thought.
But will he ever speak?

*****

In spite of her fatigue and the cold, Katherine was relieved to be outdoors. She had scarcely slept and the dull headache she had begun the morning with had begun to throb while listening to Sally and Hephzibah.

Katherine admitted that she could cordially wring her maid’s neck. How could Sally jeopardize the safety of the entire household by asking Katherine to hide her brother, and then show no interest in his fate? What had Sally expected of Sergeant Jones?
Sympathy and understanding?
When had Katherine ever received sympathy and understanding from a man?
Perhaps from Mr. Wharton.
But he was a vicar. That was his calling.

Sally might not be concerned about Jimmy’s whereabouts, but Katherine was. She hoped she would be able to pick up some information about him in the village, which she was certain would be alive with talk about the doings of riding officers last night.

The cobbler did not disappoint her.

“Strange goings-on last night, Miss Brampton.
Riding officers tearing through the village, waking up good Christian folks, scaring ‘
em
half to death. Rumor says they were out by the Dower House.”

He studied her face and harrumphed.

“Fact is
,
everyone knows Jimmy Stokes has been running errands for the brethren.  Not that anyone would breathe a word to the authorities. Turned up this morning at the vicar’s, he did!”

The cobbler paused, slapped the counter, and chuckled.

“Lord
Dracott’s
man, Patterson, escorted him to the vicarage in the wee small hours, I hear. It has to be said that Lord Dracott has a sense of humor.  
Making that young rapscallion a servant of the village priest!”

Since Katherine did not wish to comment on Lord
Dracott’s
sense of humor, she admired the shoes the cobbler produced, paid for them—she was going to have to watch her finances till next quarter—and bid him good day.

Katherine was relieved to hear Jimmy was safe. Sally might have had every confidence that he would escape capture, but given Lord
Dracott’s
fury, Katherine had feared he might turn Jimmy over to the riding officers. Why could he have not reassured her? Told her what he had planned to do with Jimmy?

Because he was in a towering rage with her.
That was why.
An unreasonable, towering rage.
She prayed she would not have to meet Lord Dracott again until she was calm and rested and had all her wits about her.

When she heard carriage wheels behind her in the lane, her instinct was to bolt into the shrubbery like a frightened sparrow.

“Katherine!”

Sir Clive. The one person she was less prepared to encounter than Lord Dracott. Sir Clive was driving a sleek phaeton that Katherine knew without asking was the height of fashion.

He did not request to drive her home. He assumed. He ordered his chestnuts to halt, climbed out of the phaeton, bowed and offered his hand to assist her into the carriage. Katherine was too weary to think of any protest. She arranged her skirts to keep any dirt from Sir Clive’s magnificent multi-caped driving coat, grateful that an overnight freeze had eliminated the problem of mud. She could not imagine shaking off chunks of mud from her skirts onto the floor of Sir Clive’s spotless phaeton.

He did not immediately give the horses the office to move, but studied her face.

“Are you eating or sleeping at all, sweet
cuz
? You must attend to such matters, you know. A lady’s fortune is in her face and form—unless, of course, she claims a generous dowry.

“From what I hear, though, you can be excused for not sleeping last night. Word in the village is that riding officers paid a visit to the Dower House last night. Word is your landlord was mightily displeased with that turn of events.

“Have you blotted your copy book with him, Katherine? It is common knowledge that he is less accommodating in his attitude toward the brethren than Lord Cecil was. Something about fighting the French that makes him take exception to putting coins in their pockets.

“I hope he gets over his pique, my dear. Where would your little household go, if Lord Dracott fails to renew your lease?”

“He promised to honor his father’s wishes.
Word of a gentleman.”

Katherine’s head throbbed.

“And a
gentleman
always keeps his promises. I understand that
ladies
are not always held to such a rigorous standard.”

“A
gentleman
does not have his way with a maid in his fiancée’s home less than a week before his marriage!”

At last Sir Clive turned his attention to the horses and they started slowly down the lane toward the Dower House.

“Actually, Katherine, my sweet, I am rather pleased that you have found your temper. When we first met, I thought it would be pleasant to mold you into a conformable wife. But you have promise of being a challenge, an Original. I find that appeals to me.

“I hear that Miss Summersville was not at all well this winter. I hope her health improves with the coming of spring, although, judging from today, we are to wait a little longer for milder weather.”

His attention was focused on the horses and the frozen ruts in the lane; his tone, casually conversational. But Katherine sensed that she was being played with. Sir Clive had never before shown the least concern for Aunt
Prunella
.

“Have you considered, Katherine, my dear, what might happen should Miss Summersville go to her heavenly rest? Are you quite certain that her source of income will pass to you, and not revert to a distant Summersville male relation?”

Sir Clive turned and looked directly at her. The satisfaction she read on his face told Katherine he saw her sickened shock. She clung tightly to the phaeton seat and reminded herself to breathe.

Katherine felt like a fool. She
should
have considered such a possibility, but she had not. She had just been coping with all the changes—Sir Alfred’s death, Richard’s death, Clive Brampton inheriting her beloved home, Lord Cecil
Dracott’s
kind offer of the Dower House, Lord Cecil
Dracott’s
death, Lord Henry
Dracott’s
return, Miguel’s arrival, Aunt
Prunella’s
illness, Lord
Dracott’s
proposal, his fury with her just last night. When had there been time for setting her mind to business matters for which she had no training, no experience? But her excuses rang hollow in her own mind. Miguel was her responsibility, and she had to take full responsibility for him. That included the essential matter of money to feed, clothe, house, and educate him. Katherine’s portion alone would never spread that far.

Sir Clive pulled the phaeton to the side of the road. For a fleeting moment Katherine thought he understood she might be ill. But if he considered the possibility, it appeared he saw it only as an advantage in the battle they were fighting over Katherine’s future.

“I believe the time has come, Katherine, my dear, to speak plainly with one another. To clear the air over the precipitous ending of our engagement and come to an agreement that will be mutually advantageous.

“When I offered for you—how long has it been now . . . just over two years, I believe—you were nothing if not grateful.  I did not insult you with protestations of undying love. In spite of your low opinion of me, I am an honest man.

“I told you plainly why I was offering: you were blossoming into a unique sort of beauty. Not the sort that would ever be the toast of a season.”

Katherine felt the memory of her disastrous foray into London society like a slap on the face, just as she knew Sir Clive had intended.

“But the sort of
beauty,
properly attired and displayed, that would inspire the jealousy of every gentleman who did not possess it.
A most appealing prospect, from my point of view.

“And what did you gain in the bargain?
Social and financial security and respectability.
Which, even in your naïveté, you recognized as a reasonable exchange.
You showed every indication of delight in the prospect of becoming my wife.

“But, what did you chose to do when you witnessed my—lapse—from your notion of ideal gentlemanly behavior? Did you seek me out for a private word?
That
, Katherine, would have been the thoughtful thing to do, the
ladylike
thing to do. Did the possibility of a private discussion never occur to you? Did you take one moment’s reflection before running off crying to that old maid of a vicar?”

“For heaven’s sake, Cousin Clive!
You yourself said that I was naïve. I was panicked! Where else could I have turned?
To Papa?
And have him either pat me on the head and tell me that gentleman had always behaved thusly, or challenge you to a duel? With Papa, one could never be certain just how he would react.”

“But you have no excuse to act the naïve girl now, Katherine. I continue to hope that you will use your intelligence, but I am tempted to fear that you will choose not to do so before you land yourself in a mare’s nest from which even
I
will be challenged to extricate you.

“
Your
decamping from Oak End to the Dower House with Miss Summersville, her decrepit maidservant, and that featherbrained Stokes girl was hardly the model of rational decision making.

“And your open-armed acceptance of a Spanish—waif—as Richard’s son was a piece of impulsiveness without parallel. You simply cannot go on careening from one indiscretion to the next without making some hard, cold, practical decisions.”

Katherine tried to assume the look of a composed and objective listener. What would Sir Clive say if he knew the full extent of her most recent indiscretion? What would he say after he had laughed himself to tears?

“I am perfectly capable of making cold, practical decisions.”

Katherine concentrated on keeping her voice level and her gaze directly into Sir Clive’s.

She was rewarded with a slight nod and a small smile.

“I am glad to hear that, Katherine, because I wish you to listen carefully to what I have to say.”