Anne Barbour (10 page)

The question remained why was her heart still in such a state of disrepair that she had shut herself away for the past seven years or so? Interesting.

Interesting, but of no concern to him, he reminded himself firmly. He had enough to worry about without meddling in the affairs of a spinster of uncertain years, even an attractive spinster with jeweled eyes. He galloped after her, and, while making no overt apology for his unwelcome flattery, he maintained an inconsequential flow of chatter during the remainder of the ride home. By the time they clattered into the stable yard, a reasonable degree of amity had been reestablished between them.

He spent the rest of the day making himself agreeable to Lady Jane and Marian. When Adam Beech arrived that afternoon to check on his patient, Justin made himself agreeable to him, too. This proved not to be an onerous task, since the doctor was an eminently likable fellow. He was not, however, very forthcoming on the subject of Lady Catherine.

“Yes,” he replied in answer to a carefully phrased question from Justin, “I suppose some might consider it odd that Catherine has chosen to abandon the city. However, urban life does not appeal to all of us.”

“Yourself, for example?”

“Yes. I could be making a good deal more money practicing in London, but, like Catherine, I prefer rural fife, and I don’t mind being paid with the occasional chicken or pig.”

“And did your wife enjoy the solitude of the country, as well?”

Adam smiled. “Oh, yes, Ann loved it here, although she was raised in London. We met there shortly after I returned from Edinburgh, and once we had settled here, she vowed that nothing would pry her away from her garden and her animals again.”

“Animals?”

Adam’s smile widened. “Yes, Ann collected them the way some people acquire objets d’art. I think her name was put on some sort of animal telegraph, for our doorway was always cluttered with stray cats and dogs or wounded birds, rabbits and even hedgehogs.”

“Miss Meade says that she and your Ann were good friends.”

The doctor’s face shadowed. “When Catherine returned from London, she was greatly at a loss without Ann.”

“Was she so unhappy, then?”

“Unhappy! She was devastated. She—” Adam broke off. “I have said too much. Catherine’s secrets are hers to tell, not mine.”

“Of course,” said Justin hastily. “I did not mean to pry.” Which was an out-and-out lie, of course, but the wise man knew when to abandon the chase—at least, temporarily. “Mrs. Bredelove appears to be a good friend to Lady Catherine, as well.”

Adam broke into a wide grin. “Lord, yes, Marian is the salt of the earth.”

“And very attractive, too.”

Adam stared at him blankly. “Well, yes—I guess she is, isn’t she? She’s been a great support to Catherine—as has Lady Jane.”

“A formidable old lady.”

“To say the least. I think if she could have laid her hands on a dueling pistol, she would have shot Francis Summervale right through the eyes.”

“Francis Summervale?”

Adam looked up suddenly. “It seems I have misspoken again,” he said shortly. He sighed. “Or, perhaps that fellow’s name still sticks in my craw. The gentleman was the cause of much grief for Catherine. I do not intend to say more—except,” he added meaningfully, “that if any other such as he were to cross Catherine’s path again, I’d shoot him myself.”

“Ah,” said Justin.

Upon Adam Beech’s departure, Justin contemplated the name the doctor had inadvertently dropped. Well, perhaps semi-inadvertently. Francis Summervale. Again, he was struck by a certain familiarity. No—more than that. He was sure he had known someone by that name.

Yes, of course! He had known a Francis Summervale in the Peninsula. Big, beefy fellow with yellow hair. Served with the Rifles, if he weren’t mistaken. He and Summervale hadn’t been well acquainted, but had encountered each other more than once. Hadn’t liked him much, as he recalled. The captain seemed rather too full of his own consequence for Justin’s liking. He’d purchased his commission only recently and, though he hadn’t seen any action, swaggered among the ladies like a seasoned warrior.

He managed to enjoy a notable success in this arena, in spite of—or perhaps because of—the whisper of scandal that accompanied his arrival in Spain. It seemed as though he had thoroughly compromised a young woman, bringing her to the point of ruin.

He had, he told his cronies, proposed marriage, but the chit proclaimed that she had no wish for husband or family. If the truth were told, said Summervale, he was relieved to be out of the situation, for the lady was not altogether to his taste. At least he had done his duty.

The young woman’s name was, of course, Justin now remembered clearly. Miss Catherine Meade.

So, Justin mused, Miss Meade’s cool composure was a facade. Behind that cool green gaze, lay a passion willing to be stirred. He thought it unlikely that she was a wanton, but she had allowed herself to be seduced by a pair of blue eyes and a head full of pretty yellow curls. Moreover, in refusing to marry Summervale, once having flung her fling, she had shown herself willing to flout the conventions of society.

Hmm, perhaps his little pastoral interlude would prove a little spicier than he had expected. The picture flashed in his mind of a thick mane of honey-colored hair spread out on a pillow beneath him and a pair of green eyes grown cloudy with desire.

Lord, he thought, perspiring, it had been too long since he’d been with a woman. It was apparent that he would have to exert a greater degree of charm than he had managed so far. Catherine had been speaking to him after their ride this morning, but just barely. And at luncheon, her conversation had been only borderline civil.

Well, he’d just have to hone up those empty blandishments. He was not used to failure with the fair sex, and he saw no reason to expect anything less than his usual achievement this time. He hummed in anticipation as he made his way downstairs.

His first opportunity to put his campaign into effect came later that evening. After dinner, Justin once again joined the ladies in the Keep’s gold salon. However, they had barely begun a game of piquet when Lady Jane rose from the table.

“I do apologize, my dears,” she said in a rather thready voice, “but I believe I shall be obliged to retire early this evening.”

Justin stood to assist her. “Does your head hurt very badly, then?” he asked softly.

She glanced at him in surprise. “I’m afraid it does. I get these pesky headaches only rarely, but they are indeed extremely painful. I shall be right as rain, however, tomorrow.”

With Justin’s hand under her arm, she moved toward the doorway, and Catherine jumped from her chair to join her.

“I shall see you to your room, Grandmama, and instruct Hannah to make you a posset. She always knows just what to do for you.”

“No, Catherine, never mind.” Mariah, too, left the table. “Let me go up with her. I think I shall retire, too, for I have an early day planned for tomorrow. I am promised to Mrs. Sylvester directly after breakfast for a linen inventory.”

“Yes, dear,” put in Lady Jane. “Do stay here and entertain Mr. Smith. I shall do very well with Mariah, and”—she waved to them with a hand that shook visibly—”I shall see you both in the morning.”

After seeing her grandmother from the room, Catherine sank once more into her chair at the table.

“Poor Grandmama. She has been plagued with those headaches for years. They are wretchedly severe, but fortunately, as she says, they do not last long.” She glanced curiously at Justin. “How did you know she was in pain? She hates anyone fussing over her, and always takes great care that no one know when one of her migraines comes on. Even I did not realize there was anything amiss with her tonight.”

“I had an—” He stopped short. He had almost mentioned his Aunt Mowbry, who had suffered from the same malady. “I had a notion,” he said instead. “The way she held herself—a certain tension around her eyes.”

“I see.”

Catherine knew a moment of surprise. She would not have thought the charming Mr. Smith observant enough of the cares of others to have noticed those of an old woman who meant nothing to him. She had, however, noticed the hesitation in his speech.

“Tell me, Mr. Smith,” she asked, fixing her gaze on him, “have you noticed any improvement in your memory?”

He shook his head ruefully. “Not a glimmer. Well, no, that’s not quite true. Every now and then some recollection tickles at the back of my mind, but I cannot seem to grasp it.”

“It must be extremely uncomfortable to lose one’s identity,” said Catherine meditatively.

“Indeed it is,” responded Justin earnestly. “I know not what responsibilities I may be leaving untended, or what loved ones I may have left to fend for themselves. Have you received any word on the request you left with the magistrate?”

He certainly seemed the picture of a man who could not remember his own name, Catherine thought dispassionately. His gray eyes stared unseeingly, apparently into a past that was closed to him. She felt a twinge of compunction. Why did she persist in attributing such unworthy motives to him? What reason could he have to lie about such a thing?

On the other hand, what had he been doing at Winter’s Keep in the first place? He was obviously a gentleman. Why had he arrived dressed in clothes one of their footmen would have scorned? And then there was that mesmerizing charm that he oozed like honey from a comb. Even as she told herself it was as false as tinker’s gilt, she had to fight the urge to purr under his compliments. It had reached the point, she admitted to herself, where she must take pains to avoid his gaze, e’er she fall into the quicksilver pools that were his eyes.

Oh, the devil take it! She was not the susceptible ninny she’d been when she’d fallen victim to Francis’s wiles. She had never been one to blush at a honeyed phrase from a good-looking man—even Francis’s fulsome praises had made her uncomfortable, and she was not going to start acting the simpering maiden now.

She took a deep breath and answered his question. “No, we have received no word from the magistrate, but it was only yesterday that I sent to him. It is highly unlikely that we would have heard anything from him so soon. In any event, I think we must assume that you do not live anywhere in the immediate vicinity. We are well acquainted with everyone who lives within ten or twenty miles.”

“And you are sure you do not number me among your acquaintances?” he asked with a smile.

“Quite sure.” Her returning smile was thin. “And now,” said Catherine, rising once more, “you must excuse me. I, too, wish to retire and I want to look in on Grandmama before I go to my room.”

“Of course,” he murmured.

He followed her into the great hall. Most of the other candelabra in the great chamber had been extinguished, so that when Justin lit two of the candles placed on a small table by the stairs and handed one to her, they were immediately enclosed in an intimate pool of light, He moved with her, step for step up the staircase and she was intensely aware of the latent strength in his thigh and shoulder as he brushed against her. When they reached the top, Catherine turned to her own bedchamber and was unpleasantly startled as Justin moved to accompany her.

“I know my way, Mr. Smith,” she said sharply, but she may as well have remained silent.

“It would be remiss of me not to perform this mundane courtesy,” he replied smoothly. Upon reaching her bedchamber, he opened the door with a small flourish. She stepped inside quickly, and, though he made no move to follow her, he prevented her from closing the door behind her by the simple expedient of placing his foot against it.

“Sleep well, Catherine,” he said, his voice flowing over her like warm silk. “And let me thank you again for your hospitality. Despite the inconvenience to myself that you mentioned earlier, I would not have missed this encounter with you for the world.”

For a moment, she simply gaped at him. Then, before she knew what he was about, he had bent his head over hers and brushed her lips with his. So light was the contact, it could hardly be called a kiss, but she felt his touch as though he had penetrated to the core of her being.

She started convulsively, and without thinking, raised her hand to deliver a stinging slap across the mouth that smiled at her so invitingly. The sound seemed to reverberate through the corridor and, with a strength she did not know she possessed, she shoved at him so violently that, caught off guard, he caromed into the opposite wall. Without waiting to measure his response to her action, she whirled into her bedchamber and slammed the door behind her.

Chapter Seven

The sun was high in the sky when Justin opened his eyes the next morning. Hastily, he threw back the covers. Lord, he hadn’t slept this late in donkey’s years. Perhaps, he reflected ruefully, it was due to the fact that he had not closed his eyes until nearly dawn.

He still could not believe what had transpired last night. The image of Catherine’s fiery green glare had stayed with him far into the night. Who would have thought, for God’s sake, that a woman of her years and experience would take such snuff at a moment’s harmless dalliance? All he’d intended was a chaste little salute there in the intimate darkness of the corridor, but one would think he’d attempted rapine and murder. Lord, it was a wonder she hadn’t brought the household down on them.

His rambling meditations during the night had consisted of these and other, similarly virtuous protestations, but it was not long before he admitted to himself that, had she responded to the light, perfectly harmless kiss he had bestowed on her, he would probably have essayed a further, perhaps slightly less harmless attempt on her virtue.

All right, if she had given him the slightest encouragement, he would have seduced her on the spot. It was not his habit to seduce gently bred maidens, for it seemed a tad thoughtless to ruin a young girl’s life for a few moments of pleasure—particularly when the world was so full of another sort of female, the kind who, for a consideration of some sort, was more than willing to give a few moments of pleasure, perhaps taking a few for herself as well. However, this particular maiden was already ruined, apparently willingly so. Thus, it might have been expected that after a judicious amount of blandishment. Miss Catherine Meade would be ripe for a spot of seduction. After walking up that darkened stairway in such close proximity with her, inhaling the delicate scent she wore, he was more than ready to pursue this pleasant course of action.