A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance (20 page)

Katherine set out for the Dracott stables, Princess trotting sedately by her side, unusually sensitive to Katherine’s mood. At Sally’s insistence, Katherine was wearing an old green dimity gown newly refurbished with lace that the enterprising maid had found in an attic trunk. Although the gown was high necked and long sleeved, Katherine felt vulnerable without the black she had worn for so long.

An excited Lizzie had arrived earlier to escort Miguel and Sally to Miguel’s first riding lesson. Ordinarily, Katherine would have been just as eager as Lizzie, but she had temporized, saying that she would follow them later after seeing Aunt
Prunella
and Hephzibah off for a morning of tea and needlepoint. Mrs.
Sythe
-Burton sent her barouche to fetch them and Katherine had waved them good-bye, hoping that her smile disguised any misgivings about her betrothal to Lord Dracott, which she knew would be the topic of conversation at the needlepoint party.

Katherine thought walking might clear her thoughts. She was not suffering a headache, but rather a lingering sensation that her head was stuffed with cotton wool. The overstuffed sensation was either the cause or the result of a sense of uncertainty—or pending doom. She could not decide what was to be her fate. Lord Dracott was every bit as angry yesterday as he had been the night she had hidden Jimmy Stokes in the priest hole.

Gentlemen, as a rule, did not break engagements—as Clive Brampton had repeatedly reminded Katherine. But given the risk she had taken, no one would blame Lord Dracott for asking Mr. Augustus Wharton not to read banns, Katherine admitted to herself. When Lord Dracott discovered her coming from Oak End yesterday morning, she had expected to hear the words that would destroy her best hope for her own and Miguel’s security. Instead, she had been ordered to put on her betrothal ring.

She was wearing it now, its heft a constant reminder of the awkwardness of her situation. Is this the way criminals feel between verdict and sentencing? Did Lord Dracott plan to maintain silence until they met at church, as punishment for her ill-advised visit to Oak End? Was he drawing up a formal list of rules that she would be expected to abide by as his wife?

Princess barked, disturbing Katherine’s ruminations, and raced ahead around a turn in the lane.

“Managing to stay out of burrs, I trust.”

Lord
Dracott’s
voice gave her a moment’s warning before he appeared in the lane.

“Miss Brampton.”

Katherine curtsied. Ignoring the spaniel’s ecstatic yips, Lord Dracott stopped abruptly six feet away.

“Miss Brampton?” His voice was hushed.

He studied her from head to toe and back again. Katherine became acutely aware that she was hatless and under Lord
Dracott’s
scrutiny she felt as if she were wearing her nightdress rather than the primmest and most out-of-fashion gown imaginable.

She was unable to look away from his face. It was not just his expression that was arresting. It was his face itself. Could someone shed five years in twenty-four hours?

“It is no secret that I find you attractive, Miss Brampton. And I believe black suits you. But, I must say, you look exceptionally lovely this morning.”

I must be in love with him,
Katherine thought.
Why else would a compliment on my attire from a gentleman with ink stains on his shirt and a half-tied neck cloth thrill me?

“Thank you, Lord Dracott.”

She could feel her face grow warm.

He thrust his hands in his coat pockets.

“It seems, once more, I must apologize to you, Miss Brampton. I have it on excellent authority that I was
so
cruel as to make you cry. I am very sorry, and I promise in the future to do my utmost to refrain from such outbursts.”

“And, once more, I must admit to having acted rashly, taking an unwarranted risk.”

Lord Dracott offered Katherine his arm. Katherine took it, light-headed with relief. The man she loved had apologized for making her cry. How did he know she had cried? She had successfully restrained herself from crying during their encounter yesterday.

She stopped walking. Had Sally betrayed Katherine’s tears to Lord Dracott?

“Just who, may I ask, is your ‘excellent authority?’ I do hope Sally is not speaking out of turn.”

“You must not question Sally’s loyalty to you, Miss Brampton. She was not my informant—or should I say challenger. Miguel was.”

“Miguel? Miguel challenged…?”

“Miguel spoke, Miss Brampton. He challenged me with words.”

“Miguel can speak? He talked to you?”

“Indeed.”

Katherine did not know she was crying until, enveloped in Lord
Dracott’s
embrace, she realized she was soaking his neck cloth with her tears.

“I seem to have a knack for making you cry,” he muttered.

Katherine drew back, sniffling and wiping her eyes.

“What a ninny you will think me, Lord Dracott. This is by far the happiest news I could receive. I must see him for myself.
Hear
him for myself.”

Katherine gathered her skirts and ran toward the small paddock nearest the stable block, Princess bounding ahead of her.

*****

Holding on to the saddle, Miguel was mounted on the stolid old pony, Clover. A stable lad held the lead line and Clem walked beside Miguel, giving pointers and encouragement. Katherine scooped up Princess to keep her from running into the paddock.

Lizzie Dracott stood by the fence. Sally was nowhere to be seen.

“Where is Sally?” Katherine asked Lizzie.

“Cook asked her in for a cup of tea and a nice chat.”

So much for Sally’s loyalty.
Katherine was certain that she and Lord Harry would figure prominently in the “nice chat.” But servants’ shortcomings could not distress her on such a glorious morning. Miguel could speak.

“Miguel loves to ride as much as I do, Miss Brampton.”

Lord Dracott walked up and stood on the other side of Lizzie, hands on hips, assessing pony and rider.

“Clem says Miguel is a natural, Papa.”

Lizzie’s voice was wistful.

Lord Dracott tousled Lizzie’s curls.

“So are you, Lizzie my girl. So are you. Miguel will have his work cut out for him if he is to catch up with you.”

“I shall need a new pony—or perhaps a horse—if Miguel rides Clover.”

Lord Dracott regarded his daughter with an amused smile.

“I reckoned it would not take long for you to figure that out.”

What a wonderful father he is,
Katherine thought, feeling her face flush.

“Ride pony!”

The emphatic command arrested Katherine’s attention. Clem, deciding that Miguel’s lesson was finished, had attempted to lift him off Clover, but Miguel would have none of it. He glowered at Clem, gripping the saddle.

“Ride pony!”

“I believe I shall have a word with that young man,” Lord Dracott said, boosting himself over the fence.

Katherine could not hear the exchange. But whatever Lord Dracott said to her imperious nephew was effective. Miguel permitted himself to be lowered from Clover, and spying Katherine, ran to her shouting.

“I ride pony, Tia
Cat’rina
! I ride pony!”

Katherine dropped a wriggling Princess and, crying with happiness, hugged and kissed Miguel until he protested.

“No cry, Tia
Cat’rina
. No cry.”

“I am crying for happiness, Miguel,” Katherine assured her nephew. “Happiness that you were successful in your first riding lesson—and even more—that you are talking. You had us quite worried, you know.”

“You see, Miguel, anything at all can make a lady cry,” Lord Dracott said.
“Anything at all.”

He took Miguel’s hand and started for the stables. Lizzie and Katherine followed.

“I shall show you where Clover’s stall is, Miguel. Soon you must learn to help care for him,” Lord Dracott said.

Lizzie lagged behind, for once not obsessed with horseflesh.

“Were you really crying for happiness, Miss Brampton? Are you really happy? Not just about Miguel riding Clover and talking, but about everything? About marrying Papa and living here and being my mama?” Lizzie beseeched, unshed tears in her eyes.

“I so want you to be happy, Miss Brampton. I prayed and prayed that you could be my mama, and now you will be. I want you to be my mama even more than I want a pony—or even a horse.”

A tear glistened on Lizzie’s cheek.

Katherine knelt and gathered the little girl into her arms. Katherine had been so preoccupied with her own worries—how she could manage marrying a gentleman whom she loved but did not love her—that she had forgotten the gift of caring for his daughter, who loved Katherine as much as Katherine loved her.

She kissed Lizzie’s forehead, blinking away a fresh flow of tears.

“Being your mama is as great a joy as I could ask for, Lizzie darling. But you must never think I want to replace your own mama. I do understand that you will always love her.”

Lizzie wiped her cheeks and nose with the backs of her hands.

“I
s’pose
I love her and my little baby brother. But they’re in heaven, Miss Brampton, and they can’t love me back.”

Lord Dracott emerged from the stable with Miguel, having returned Clover to his stall.

“You will observe, Miguel, that ladies do a good deal of crying. I suspect it is because they know their tears can be quite disconcerting to gentlemen.”

Lizzie stopped crying, and smiled up at Katherine.

Lord Dracott grimaced, apparently realizing that he had unwittingly handed his daughter another weapon in her arsenal of manipulation.

“Lizzie, my dear, please take Miguel up to the nursery for some biscuits and lemonade. Take Princess, too. Sally can bring Miguel back to the Dower House when you’ve finished, but tell her not to hurry. I need to have a word in private with Miss Brampton.”

“That’s because they’re getting married,” Lizzie confided to Miguel as she took his hand and headed toward the Hall.

*****

Katherine and Lord Dracott started back for the Dower House in silence, without distractions of horses, ponies, dogs, or children. Katherine could hear the thud of her own heartbeat.

Lord Dracott took her hand and played absently with her betrothal ring.

“I did not tell you everything Miguel said to me this morning.”

Katherine looked up. Lord Dracott was regarding her with a raised eyebrow and a half smile.

“What…what more did he say?”

Lord Dracott stopped walking and turned to her.

“Miguel accused me of not loving his Tia
Catarina
. I find
Catarina
a most charming name. Would you object if I call you
Catarina
from time to time? You will have to call me Harry. I cannot imagine being Enrique—or Dracott, for that matter. More the fashion, I know, but…impersonal.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her finger just next to the ring he had given her.

Katherine resisted an impulse to throw her arms around his neck. It was easier to deal with Lord Dracott when he was angry with her than when he was… She really could not accuse her betrothed of toying with her affections, could she?

Katherine did not trust herself to look directly at him, but concentrated on the ink stain on his shirt. Lord Dracott might be happy to gloss over his inability to love her, but Katherine knew she needed to face reality. Otherwise she would permit herself to hope—and hoping for his love would only end in pain.

“You must make allowances for Miguel. He is just a child. Love is a simple thing for him. He should not be expected to understand that your love for Lady Angela prevents you from loving…his Tia
Catarina
…or any other lady, for that matter.”

Lord
Dracott’s
arms fastened around Katherine like steel bands.

“My darling girl, my sweet, sweet
Catarina
.
How I have wronged you.”