A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance (11 page)

“Your offer is very kind, but, as you well know, it is entirely unnecessary. You can depend upon my silence,” Katherine choked on her words.

“I know that, Miss Brampton.
That
really is not the point. Well, perhaps a part of the point.”

Lord Dracott smiled his half smile. The boyish charm had returned in full force.

“We did have a nice, companionable chat, did we not, Miss Brampton?
Before…
And it would solve any number of problems,” he added eagerly.

Katherine took a deep breath to fight off the dizziness that followed fast on the heels of embarrassment.

“You mentioned that you had not planned this offer, Lord Dracott. And I believe, upon reflection, you will think better of it. I hope I am not being presumptuous to point out that it was obvious to all who attended your recent entertainment that you were fixing your attentions on my cousin, Miss Leticia Brampton.”

“Miss Leticia is charming and accomplished, but I do not think she would be content as my wife. She is
young
, Miss Brampton. And beneath the veneer of sophistication, she is a romantic. She would wish to hear all the sweet, silken words I cannot utter. Read tender love notes I cannot write.”

Lord
Dracott’s
face had turned bleak. He shrugged and cleared his throat.

“And I cannot see that she is overly fond of Lizzie. That would be the beauty of our marriage, Miss Brampton. In a sense, Lizzie has already chosen you for her mother.”

Lord Dracott smiled, apparently convinced that he had made the telling argument.

“You know my fondness for Miss Lizzie, Lord Dracott. But my fondness for her is not an adequate foundation for marriage.”

Why am I protesting his proposal?
Katherine wondered.

“And there is the matter of Miguel,” Lord Dracott added, ignoring her objection.

Sensing an advantage, he continued.

“Surely you are aware of the difficulties you face in his upbringing. He might require a tutor for all of his schooling.”

If Miguel never speaks, it was a certainty.

“I will need an heir, of course,” he said, apparently addressing the trees behind her. “But I am certain we can manage that,” Lord Dracott added with forced heartiness.

She blushed crimson. He snatched up his greatcoat and took unusual care fastening it.

“Surely you see the sense of the plan,” Lord Dracott said when he finally met her eye.

A fool would see the sense of the plan—from her perspective. It was the solution to all her problems.
A gift from heaven.
Why could she not simply say, “You honor me with your proposal of marriage, Lord
Dracott.
I accept it.”

But she was having difficulty forming the words.

“You honor me with your proposal of marriage, Lord Dracott,” she began. “But I believe it would be wise for both of us to take the matter under consideration. Think about it. You did say that you had not planned to speak today. And, I know you understand that I must think things out clearly before making lasting commitments for Miguel’s future and my own.”

How could she play fast and loose with such an unexpected gift? But the words had just tumbled out.

Lord Dracott smiled and patted her shoulder as if she were an old school chum.

“You’re a sensible girl, Miss Brampton. I am certain that, upon consideration, you will see the wisdom of our marriage.”

Katherine shivered. She told herself it was because the sun had just gone behind a cloud.

Katherine lay in bed, staring into the dimness of her room. Only the faint glow of the banked coals gave any light, barely enough light to see. She closed her eyes and reviewed the day.

Lord Dracott had insisted upon escorting her home, chatting pleasantly of village and farming matters as if nothing of any serious import had taken place in the clearing by Trinket’s grave—until he bid her good-bye.

“I am certain our marriage will be a sensible step for both of us, Miss Brampton,” he had said. “Lizzie will gain a mother she already loves. Miguel will gain the guardian he sorely needs. And . . .” he paused and patted her cheek, “I will be spared the miseries of the London Marriage Mart.”

He seemed to take for granted what she would gain. It would be obvious to everyone: financial security and social respectability. What more could she want?

Somehow she had managed to answer Aunt
Prunella’s
queries about her trip to the village and the encounter with Lord Dracott without arousing any suspicion. But when Hephzibah looked at Katherine with a penetrating stare and pronounced her “peaked” and in need of a cup of hot broth and an early night, Katherine fled to her room in relief.

Finally, she could cry. She did not sob. As she lay on her back, she let the tears flow freely, first soaking her hair and then the pillow. What was the matter with her? She had what she most needed: a marriage proposal from a gentleman of wealth and social standing who promised to protect Miguel. There would be no necessity of marrying Sir Clive. She should be ecstatically happy.

She was miserable.

Leticia, according to Lord Dracott, was a romantic, and would require courting. But Katherine was sensible. She would not expect, much less ask, for “sweet, silken words” and “tender love notes.”

Until she framed the thought, Katherine did not realize, in her heart of hearts, she had never given up hope that some gentleman would speak sweet, silken words to
her
and send tender love notes to
her
.

When Clive Brampton had offered marriage and she had accepted, there was generosity on his part and gratitude on hers, but there was no pretense of love on either side.

Her father had been disappointed when her London season failed to produce even one marriage proposal. She had settled back into life at Oak End, resigned to spinsterhood. Clive Brampton’s proposal was flattering and he had known it. Katherine neither expected nor received a pledge of love. But after Clive had betrayed her so close to their wedding day, she believed only true love would ever lure her into considering marriage again.

 Now she would have to bid farewell to her dream forever, if indeed she went along with what Lord Dracott assumed was a forgone conclusion.

She dried her eyes on the bed sheet, turned her pillow, and gave it a good thump.
If I cry at all,
she told herself,
I should be crying tears of relief.
She thought of Lizzie, Aunt
Prunella
, and Miguel.
Most importantly, Miguel.
Of course she would accept Lord
Dracott’s
marriage proposal. What were Katherine’s romantic dreams in comparison with Miguel’s future security?

Princess snuffled in her sleep.
And you, too, Princess.
Lord Dracott might never take you hunting, but he will welcome you to the Hall.

The Hall.
She, Katherine Brampton, would be mistress of that imposing establishment.
And the wife—the second wife—of Lord Henry Dracott.

The vision of his first wife rose unbidden in her mind.
The dainty, ethereally beautiful Lady Angela.
No wonder Lord Dracott could not forget her, could find no room in his heart for another.

Tears came to Katherine’s eyes once more. But this time, she refused to shed them. Providence had provided her a way to guarantee Miguel’s future. It had provided her with the task of mothering Lizzie, whom she already loved. She would be spared the possibility of having to watch another lady—Cousin Leticia, for example—failing to fully appreciate Lizzie’s high spirits and lively mind.

 
I have much for which to be grateful,
Katherine told herself sternly.
Selfishness and
ingratitude are ugly sins.
And that was what she was committing by indulging her romantic longings. At the next opportunity, she would accept Lord
Dracott’s
offer.

*****

Katherine hoped Lord Dracott would seek her out, giving her an opportunity for private speech and the chance to settle the matter of his offer. But he provided no convenient moment for them to speak privately, and when they did chance to meet in the company of others, he greeted her with punctilious good manners, no different from his manner with Aunt
Prunella
or Mrs.
Sythe
-Burton.

Perhaps she should write him a note. Perhaps she should seek
him
out: march up to the Hall and announce to Jenkins that she needed to have private conversation with Lord Dracott.
That
would settle the issue for certain. News of a private conversation between Lord Dracott and Miss Katherine Brampton would spread over the entire parish before she returned to the Dower House.

Unable to decide on a course of action, Katherine launched into an energetic cleaning of the front parlor. Sally worked alongside her willingly enough, but Katherine knew her maid was puzzled over the necessity of removing winter grime weeks before spring weather fully arrived and the old house could be opened up and thoroughly aired. All that Katherine could say by way of explanation was that she needed something constructive to do. And she did. She felt as tense as a freshly wound clock.

To make matters worse, it was difficult for Katherine to fall asleep, much as she longed for the respite it brought. And once she did fall asleep, the slightest noise brought her to full wakefulness.

So when Sally opened the door of her bedroom on a cold, moonlit night, Katherine woke instantly, knowing something was seriously amiss.

“Miguel? Is something the matter with Miguel?” Katherine whispered, as she fought the terror that made it difficult to breathe.

“No, no, Miss Brampton. Miguel is sleeping peaceful as a little angel. It’s my brother, Jimmy. He needs help quick-like. He says the riding officers are after him. Oh what can we do, Miss Brampton?”

That was an excellent question,
Katherine thought as she pulled on an old black dress over her nightgown. She was almost downstairs before she realized that she was still barefoot. Princess ran ahead of her into the kitchen and was subjecting a trembling Jimmy Stokes to a thorough inspection when Katherine arrived.

“S-s-so s-sorry, Miss Brampton.
I
shouldna
c-c-come here.
I d-didn’t think.”

Fear had stripped Jimmy Stokes of any bravado.

“Maybe if you just let me hide here.
If you go back upstairs, like you don’t know I’m here? Maybe the officers won’t s-s-stop? Won’t guess?”

“Hush!” Katherine ordered. “You, Jimmy, come with me. Sally,” she turned to her maid who had followed her downstairs, “you will just have to handle matters as best you can.
Whatever you say, do not let Hephzibah or Miss Summersville know that Jimmy is here.”

Katherine pulled Jimmy up the stairs, praying that she would get him hidden in time.

Back in her bedroom, she tried to remember just where the spring was that opened the door to the priest
hole
. Jimmy watched wide-eyed as she pressed the panel by the side of the fireplace. It remained firmly closed.

Princess, who had followed them, began to whimper. Katherine listened in dismay. Horses were approaching.
Riding officers.
From below stairs she could hear Hephzibah’s querulous voice demanding to know just what was going on. Katherine had to hide Jimmy. Where was the spring that would open the panel?

In desperation, Katherine sat in the chair just as she had sat the night she had made her discovery, and rose quickly, just has she had risen, throwing her weight against the panel beside the chimney piece.

At last she heard the faint creak, and the panel moved. She pushed a white-faced Jimmy into the priest hole.

“Stay completely still. Try not to breathe,” she ordered.

The sound of horses clattering into the driveway was followed by loud pounding on the front door. Not even Miguel could sleep through such a racket. Katherine scooped up Princess, who was investigating the crack under the panel beside the fireplace. The spaniel would betray them all if she was not restrained.

Downstairs, Sally had opened the door to the riding officers. Katherine could hear her maid’s innocent-sounding inquiries into what could possibly be the matter.
The girl could have a career on the stage given her acting abilities,
Katherine thought, and prayed she could do as well.

“If you please, officers,” Sally shouted, “I must wake Miss Brampton and inform her of your intention to search the house.”

A moment later, Sally was beside her in the hallway outside Miguel’s room.

“Where’d you hide him, Miss Brampton?” she whispered. “Up in the attic?”

“Never mind,” Katherine hissed, wondering fleetingly if the attic would have been safer than the priest hole.

“The less you
know,
the better. And take Princess. Keep hold of her or she could land us all in trouble. Go back downstairs and inform the officers that I shall be with them presently. I must fetch Miguel.”

The child was awake and trembling.

“It is only your Aunt Katherine, my sweet,” Katherine whispered to him, gathering a blanket around him as she pulled him into her arms. “You must be brave, Miguel. I promise, no harm will come to you, but you must be brave.”

He wrapped his arms around Katherine’s neck and his trembling subsided. She kissed his forehead. If only she could merit his trust.

Katherine descended the stairs as regally as she could manage, considering that she was still barefoot, her serviceable flannel nightgown was peeking out below the hem of her dress, her hair was in a single braid down her back, and she was carrying Miguel, who had buried his face in her neck.

Three young men dressed in the red uniform of riding officers silently watched her progress. Aunt
Prunella
and Hephzibah stood in the shadows holding fast to each other. Grasping a wriggling Princess, Sally had insinuated herself between the sergeant in charge and his two subordinates.

For the first time since she had been wakened, Katherine got a good look at her maid. Sally was wearing only her nightgown. No one could claim it was indecent. It was made of flannel, came up to her throat, and covered all but her toes and hands. But the sprinkling of rosebuds across the yolk and the lace trim at the neck and throat gave it a slightly coquettish air. And, just in case the slightly coquettish air of her nightgown was missed, Sally had permitted her golden curls to tumble with abandon down her shoulders, restraining them only with a pink ribbon, which matched the rosebuds on her gown.

The three young redcoats were having difficulty keeping their eyes off Sally. Katherine had to restrain herself from laughing. She knew she was alarmingly close to hysterics.

“I trust you have an excellent reason for disrupting my household? A household that—as you can plainly see—includes a very old lady whose health you are even now putting in jeopardy, a very young child whom you have frightened half out of his wits, and two female servants who badly need their rest.”

Katherine was pleased with the hauteur she could hear in her voice, and the confusion on the subordinates’ faces as they looked questioningly at the sergeant in charge, who flushed, but frowned, apparently determined to do his job.

“Miss Brampton,” Sally gazed up soulfully at the frowning sergeant. “May I present Sergeant Jones? He thinks that we are harboring a
smuggler
,” she added in strongly recriminating tones, transforming her gaze from soulful to accusing.

Sergeant Jones swallowed hard and addressed Katherine, determined to maintain his authority.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, Miss Brampton. But I am under orders, ma’am. You would have no reason to know, ma’am, but there is a dangerous gang of smugglers operating hereabouts, and law-abiding folks are only safe in their houses after criminals of that sort are brought to justice.”