Sandra Madden (5 page)

"I shall play my lute for you." Kate never played for long. Lady Cordelia usually fell fast asleep during the first melody.

Edmund's aunt had come from London to live at Rose Hall upon the death of Oliver Wydville, her brother and Edmund's father. Kate long suspected it might be country life that did not agree with the long-suffering woman.

"Kate?"

"Aye?"

"Do you have a black eye?"

"Aye."

"How did you come by a black eye?"

"I... I walked into a low-hanging bough."

"Were you not looking?"

"My mind was elsewhere."

"Aye."

Miracle of all miracles, the old woman let it go. Kate could only think Lady Cordelia was eager to nap.

"Play something soothing, Kate."

She was.

With a sigh of relief, Kate took up the lute. At least she did not have to explain the lump on her head. Lady Cordelia's failing eyesight kept her ignorant of small things such as dust, mites, and lumps.

Kate knew the music so well she did not even have to think about the notes or strings. Her fingers struck the notes as if they had a mind of their own. "Rose, rose, rose red, will I ever see you wed?"

Lady Cordelia had just begun to snore when the door burst open.

Startled, Kate strummed an off chord.

Lady Cordelia bolted upright.

It was Edmund. His towering form filled the doorway; his raw energy charged the room. Even the wall painting, a ribald hunting scene, seemed to come alive.

"Good day, ladies." He inclined his head slightly before casting a wide, heart-stopping grin.

"By your leave, Edmund, you gave me a fright!"

Lady Cordelia exclaimed, patting her straw-colored curls as if they might be in danger of falling out.

"I do apologize Aunt Cordelia. But I have hit upon a famous scheme and could not wait to speak with you."

"Impatient as ever," she mumbled.

The corner of his eyes crinkled in a most appealing manner as he turned his riveting smile on Kate alone. He seemed not at all put off by her black eye. And she had no defense for Edmund's smile. Warm waves of pleasure skipped down her spine.

Lady Cordelia reached for her silver goblet of sack. "Pray, do not keep us in suspense, eh? What is thy famous scheme?"

"My work here is concluded and I must return to London to be on hand when Parliament resumes."

"Go on," the old woman urged.

"You and Kate must accompany me,"

Lady Cordelia's arm froze in midair; her goblet of sack halted midway to her lips. She blinked rapidly as if the room had suddenly gone dark.

For Kate's part, she was certain she had not heard correctly. She tilted her head. "Me?"

Edmund nodded eagerly as he approached her in his odd, loping gait. "Aye, Kate. Until you have secured a position as nurse, I am proposing you come to London as Aunt Cordelia's gentlewoman."

"But I am not gentry born," she protested. "I cannot hold such a position."

Clearly dubious, he hiked a dark brow. "You cannot be certain. You may well be gentry born, Kate."

"What makes you think I wish to go to London, Edmund?" Lady Cordelia's parchment-paper brow folded in a bewildered frown as she set down her goblet.

"My dear aunt, I shall feel very much better if you consult the finest physicians... who can only be found in London."

After but a moment's thought, Cordelia heaved a weary sigh that shook her abundant bosom. "'Tis true, healing care is lacking in the country. Everyone knows it to be so."

"You are at a country surgeon's mercy by remaining at Rose Hall, Aunt Cordelia," Edmund intoned gravely.

"Mayhap a truly knowledgeable physician could cure my rheumatism and give me a remedy to ease these bilious attacks that continue to plague me."

Kate feared 'twas the constant stream of sack that plagued Lady Cordelia but dared not say as much. Besides, her own head spun with Edmund's proposal.

London? Kate had never been to London. The city offered many goldsmiths. Perhaps the one goldsmith who knew the origin of her ring plied his craft in London,

But the thought of living under the same roof with Edmund caused her pulse to pound, 'Twould be dangerous.

"What say you, Kate? We will reward you well to serve as you already do from the goodness of your heart. You shall officially become Aunt Cordelia's gentlewoman."

"I... I do not know..." Kate's voice trailed off in confusion. How could he demand such a hurried decision? There was much to consider. What to do? What to do? She must consult her stargazer at once.

"You hesitate. Do you find my dear aunt much too trying?" Edmund asked with a rakish wink.

Kate's heart fluttered.

Lady Cordelia cried out in protest. "I am not the least bit trying. But do I not have any say in this matter?"

"Of course, Aunt. What say you?"

"I... I should like Kate to be my gentlewoman."

"I thought as much." Edmund turned his broad grin on Kate. 'Twas a dazzling grin that immobilized her mind. "Kate?"

"I, I..." Her voice trailed off.
She could not think.

Edmund's great charm was not his only means of persuasion. "If you are residing in London, it may help with the business we discussed at our last meeting," he noted.

"What business?" the older woman asked, slicing a questioning glance at Kate, who quickly lowered her eyes.

Cordelia Wydville had never been bashful in taking an interest in the affairs of others. The country not only lacked physicians, it lacked titillating gossip as well.

When Kate raised her eyes, she found Edmund's gaze challenging her. "Kate expressed the desire to visit a London goldsmith, did you not?"

"Aaaaayyye." He was quite influential, in a thoroughly male way.

"This may be the opportunity you have been seeking. 'Tis also the opportunity to help my aunt... and me," he pressed.

Kate's heart beat far faster than it had ever done before. A bubbling excitement curled through her, spiraling from the caul at her crown straight down to her toes.

"You have suggested a most interesting proposition," she allowed, calmly and quietly, while a jumble of mixed emotions whirled within her. How could she be expected to come to such a complicated decision by herself? "Before I can give you an answer, I must talk with Papa."

And consult the planets.

* * * *

A veil of cold damp mist clouded the late-afternoon air as Edmund escorted Kate back to her papa's thatch-roof cottage.

With nothing urgent to occupy his time, other than his bowling and tennis matches, which were of import to him, Edmund had resolved to rescue his childhood friend from an uncertain serving life as a nurse. He knew the liberties taken by unscrupulous employers. To think of Kate unwillingly seduced by a noble rogue bent on a dalliance beneath the staircase set his teeth on edge.

And why should she labor in any home but her own? Edmund had no doubt Kate's beauty and intellect would win the heart of a wealthy merchant in less than a fortnight.

As they strolled the gravel path of defining hedgerows, sheltering oaks, and beeches, he meant to convince Kate of the wisdom of his plan.

"Only think of the people you will meet, Kate. And the goldsmiths whom you shall be in a position to question."

Her softly arched brows knitted in a troubled frown. "I don't know—"

"I understand my aunt can be tiresome at times, but if you weigh the advantages of spending time in London against one unfavorable—

"Lady Cordelia is not tiresome," Kate interrupted. "She is lonely."

"I can assure you, my aunt shall not be lonely in London. As a matter of fact, I expect you will have more time to yourself as Cordelia flits from physician to surgeon to apothecary."

Kate looked up at him. Her tawny-gold eyes danced with laughter; her bright smile chased the afternoon chill, made his steps feel light and uplifting.

Edmund's gaze focused on her lips. The cool, damp air had deepened the color of her lips from an innocent pale rose shade to a sultry scarlet.

Momentarily distracted from his mission, Edmund recalled how her lips had felt beneath his the day before, soft and pliant, warm and... welcoming. He had tasted her, seeking to satisfy an urge, a curiosity. Now he found himself needing to savor the tangy cinnamon flavor of her just one more time.

He felt a tightening in his gut.

Her cheeks glowed crimson. The corners of her mouth turned up in a soft smile.

A smoldering heat curled through him.

Why did his body react so strongly to Kate? Had he acquired some country malady?

"Have I said something to amuse you?" he asked, more gruffly than he'd intended.

Kate did not appear fazed by his tone. She continued to regard him steadily, with her knowing smile. "No, not at all."

"Why do you regard me in that manner?"

"What manner?"

"As if you know something I do not?"

She laughed then, a light, echoing peal of merriment that sent fiery sparks shooting through Edmund's body. "Perhaps," she admitted. "I was remembering the impatient boy I used to know and realized he'd grown into an impatient man."

She had the temerity to laugh again.

Edmund stiffened. No one addressed the Earl of Stamford in such a manner. Except Kate. But that was before she knew what was expected of young ladies. Since then, she had supposedly studied under fine scholars and mavens of protocol at the Italian convent. She should know when to hold her tongue.

Unfortunately, however, she was right. Edmund had not learned patience in all these years. He demanded an answer immediately. And he only wished to hear one reply. Kate must come to London as Aunt Cordelia's gentlewoman.

"Edmund, I did not mean to wound you. Forgive me. Impatience is the mark of an intelligent man. What's more, I am certain your aunt has friends in London as well as physicians."

"To be sure. Aunt Cordelia and Lady Mason will fall in together at once to compare ills. There is also my sister, Jane, to commiserate with her." He stopped in midstep.

Kate continued to smile in that disconcerting manner.

Strands of sun-brushed curls had come loose, framing her face and teasing the shoulders of her dark blue cloak. Edmund experienced a sudden and extraordinary longing to free the rest of her golden mass and weave his fingertips through the silky locks.

Bloody... What sort of milk-livered man was he? Once again he'd allowed Kate to divert him from his undertaking. Obviously, he must avoid looking at her. To that end, Edmund strode off at a rather brisk pace with his eyes straightforward, locked on the smoke rising from the gardener's chimney. When it became apparent she intended to continue strolling, he slowed.

"My aunt shall be pleased to introduce you to everyone she knows," Edmund coaxed, renewing his effort. His gaze fixed upon the smoke. "Aunt Cordelia and I are acquainted with a good many people, aristocrats and gentry alike. One of our acquaintances may have seen a ring similar to yours, or will recognize its crest and rose."

Kate lightly kicked a pebble in her path. "You make it difficult to say nay."

"Then you must agree." The tightening of his chest seemed less. Although they were fast approaching her father's cottage. Although he felt his time to persuade her was running out, Kate appeared to be bending his way. "If you say aye, I shall be forever in your debt."

"Prithee Edmund, allow me time to consider such a change in my plans... and to gain my papa's counsel."

"Mayhap by the morrow you will have come to a decision?" he pressed. "I must know before I return to London."

Kate gave a fretful puff that Edmund found endearing. "A maiden woman living in the house of a bachelor?" she mused.

"I promise you, as my aunt's companion your reputation shall not be tainted."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"And our presence, Lady Cordelia's and mine, will not put a damper on your... on any romantic liaisons you might have?"

Taken off guard by her question, Edmund's breathing slammed to a stop. After clearing his throat and gathering his wits, he took a deep breath and replied stoically, "Not at all. There is no romance in my life."

"By your leave, should you not be thinking of marriage soon?"

"You take great liberties with our old friendship to ask the question," he replied stiffly.

"But you must have an heir," she stated simply.

"You begin to sound like Aunt Cordelia. Aye, I shall do my duty and provide an heir. Lady Judith Witherspoon has great hopes that I will offer for her before the summer is out. And I may."

"Are you... in love... with Lady Judith?"

Kate's voice sounded faint and far away. Edmund looked down to make sure the gardener's daughter still walked by his side. She had paled considerably. "No, Kate. I shall never marry for love."

"Prithee, why not?"

"A man who loves becomes as weak as a house of cards."

"Nay, I believe love makes one stronger."

Only a woman could think that.

Edmund sighed. He had no true reason to put her off. 'Twas clear Kate retained the quick and curious mind she had possessed as a child. She would discover answers to her questions one way or another. Nor did he have any reason not to trust her. She inspired his confidence. Edmund felt quite certain that he might share his thoughts and plans with her as openly as he had in the past.

"Kate, I was wounded when the Spanish attacked Cornwall. I was one of the casualties at Mousehole."

She gasped. "Edmund!"

He'd been shot in the foot by one of his own men, wounded by a flintlock musket. It was a most inglorious war injury. When he spoke of it, however, he lowered his voice and made the wound sound mysterious and deadly. His considerable pride would not allow him to confess he'd been shot in the foot. Even to Kate.

"A slight misstep is not such a horrible price to pay when I think of my fallen comrades."

"Oh, my, no!"

"I took up residence at Stamford House in London with my father and brother. Fearing I might be crippled for life, I was determined to recover in the hands of only the finest physicians—those residing in London."