Sandra Madden (7 page)

"And Edmund?"

"Oh, no, Papa!"

"I've seen the look in ye eye the last few days, me girl."

"Edmund and I have always been the best of friends."

"But he is the Earl of Stamford now. And ye are just..." His voice trailed off. Averting his gaze to the garden wall, he pressed his lips tightly together.

"Papa?"

He turned back to Kate. His words came slowly. "Ye are me girl. Ye cannot be friends with the man in the same way ye were friends with the boy."

Stung by the truth stated aloud and plainly, Kate tilted her chin. "I am fully aware of our differences, Papa."

"As I am certain the earl is. Ye have grown to be a beautiful young woman, me girl."

"Edmund and I used to play together. We forged a bond that has nothing to do with... your meaning."

"Aye? Kate, do not be naive."

"I am not."

"Ye are the gardener's daughter. The earl may think he owns ye, like one of his hounds or horses." Her papa's tone was ominous. " 'Tis the way of the world."

"No! Do not even suggest that Edmund would take advantage of me, Papa."

"Lord Stamford to ye, me girl."

The implication that Edmund would use her unjustly wounded Kate. Her papa's suggestion echoed her own suspicions, which Edmund's kiss had elicited.

"Ye would not be the first young girl lured to ruin by a member of nobility."

"Papa! We are speaking of Ed—Lord Stamford. He has only been good and kind to me since I was a child."

"Ye are not a child any longer and he is a man now," her papa pronounced in a dire tone. He emphasized the word "man," making it sound as if Edmund were a monster to be feared.

"Do you not remember the pony he gave me?"

John Beadle's dark, heavily lined face folded. His voice rumbled in a threatening tone Kate had never heard before. "Has Lord Stamford offered ye gifts?"

"No!" Increasingly uncomfortable, Kate decided to change the direction of the discussion. "There will be opportunities in London for me to make inquiries about my ring."

"We were warned not to make inquiries."

"You and Mama vowed not to make inquiries. I did not."

"No good can come of questions," he insisted.

"No good ever comes of ignorance either, Papa." She smiled then, reaching out to take his gloved hand. "Did the wisewoman have such magic that she plucked me as a babe from the air?"

"Ye know she did not," he replied, his voice weary.

Paying no mind to her dress, Kate fell to her knees beside him. "I do not like to leave you, but we could use an extra shilling or two, could we not?"

Her papa was silent for a long moment, long enough for an exceedingly tight knot to lodge in Kate's throat. "I have been thinking of going to me sister," he said at last. "Letty has invited me to come live with her in Nottingham."

Kate reacted to the news as she would a blow. She swallowed air before replying in a hushed tone, "I did not know."

"Aye, I was waiting for ye to obtain a position before I made firm plans." Love, clear and bright as precious stone, shone in his eyes as his gaze met hers. "Ah, me girl, what a fine nurse ye will make."

She took his hand again. "Only because of the many sacrifices you made. There were no other gardener's daughters who had been sent to Italy to study at the convent school. You gave me a fine education."

"That's not quite the way of it," he said, giving her a doleful smile. "The wisewoman left funds for ye.  We were told we must educate ye, even though ye were a girl child."

"I have been blessed."

"Mama and I were blessed to have ye," he confessed, lowering his eyes, but not before she saw the tears glimmering in them.

Kate kissed his cheek. "I will always love you, Papa."

With his gaze still fixed on the ground, John Beadle nodded his head.

Understanding her papa's discomfort with such mawkish talk, Kate changed the subject abruptly. "What would you do at Aunt Letty's?" she asked softly.

"I might find work at an estate in the shire or take odd jobs."

"Ah, you have given thought to this move, then."

"Aye. Will Richards could take over as head gardener here at Rose Hall. He's a good man."

"Indeed."

Whatever Kate was about to say next was forgotten as soon as she heard the bark. She looked up, and for the second time in a matter of days saw the wild beast called Percy bounding toward her.

This time the devil canine did not appear to be chasing quarry. He ran toward Kate with seeming purpose.

Oh, fie!

She stared, transfixed. Numb from her nose to her knees, she could not even feel her heart beating—until Edmund's hound was upon her. Wildly unpredictable of late, Kate's heart lurched into a new tempo, too rapid to count.

The animal made a flying leap. His giant paws found their way squarely to Kate's shoulders, knocking her to the ground.

She fell with a thump as John Beadle jumped up, |too late to intervene.

Before she could stop him, Percy licked her face with his rough, drooly wet tongue. It would only be a matter of time before the beast opened his mouth and began to chew on her. Kate's attempts to push the slobbering hound away were to no avail.

"Stay calm, me girl. I'll pull the wretched cur off of ye."

"Let me help."

Upon hearing Edmund's voice, Percy backed off.

Splayed on the ground, Kate winced. The bump on her head throbbed anew. Her heart still raced. She dared not move.

"Percy, stay."

At last. Kate released her breath. Her lungs ached. She'd begun to turn blue.

"Ye fine bloodhound surprised us, Lord Stamford," John Beadle explained. " 'Tis a frisky animal."

Edmund chuckled. "After only one meeting, Percy has become exceedingly fond of your daughter, John."

The grinning earl extended a hand to help Kate up. Once again, she was covered with dirt.

His eyes twinkled as she bristled.

"Is that what you think?" she demanded, brushing the dirt from her dress. "He likes me?"

"Calm yerself, me girl," John Beadle urged. "It's Lord Stamford ye're talking to."

From his stance, he could not see Kate roll her eyes.

But Edmund could. He appeared more amused than affronted, however, continuing to grin at Kate in a most maddening manner. Discomfited, she averted her gaze. She wiggled her nose to dislodge a particle of wayward soil from its tip. When next Kate looked, the earl still grinned.

Perhaps her papa was right. Lord Stamford had chosen to amuse himself with her. Vexed anew at the disturbing thought, she huffed her displeasure.

Edmund’s eyes sparkled mischievously. "Percy does not go around kissing all the girls, I assure you."

"I do not welcome his affections, my lord." Kate spun on her heel and marched toward the refuge of the Beadles' cottage,

Edmund matched her step. "My apologies once more. By your leave, I shall do better at keeping Percy at bay."

"As you will."

"I have come for your decision, Mistress Kate."

Kate stopped in her tracks. In a whirl of bombazine skirts she confronted the persistent earl. "Will your ill-mannered, flea-bitten hound be living with you in London?"

"Nay." Edmund shook his head slowly. His glorious green eyes twinkled as he gave Kate a roguish grin. "Not if you are."

Chapter Five

Nothing shall impede your progress

The journey to London by coach proved so jarring that two days later Kate's bones still rattled. Lady Cordelia required copious amounts of sack to restore her tranquility and quiet her querulous claims of broken limbs.

Rather than rush straightaway to the goldsmiths of London, as she was wont to do, Kate found herself stroking her lady's temples and playing soothing melodies on the lute. From first light to dusk she assured Edmund's agitated aunt that no one had ever died from the strain of travel between the East Midlands and London.

Kate's growing impatience to go about her business caused a constant tightness in her belly and a frequent clenching of teeth.

Another pressing matter deepened her distress. Edmund, who had either been attending Parliament or playing wind ball since their arrival, had planned an evening's entertainment for the family.

Kate waffled. She thought to plead illness in order to avoid the gathering. While she would enjoy the musicians, Kate did not anticipate renewing her acquaintance with Edmund's sister, Jane. The lady had been rude to her in the past. She could not expect a warm welcome now, 'twould be out of character.

But the opportunity to see Edmund—especially after another long day spent in Lady Cordelia's company—won out. Kate missed her old friend's company, though she knew it was just as well the earl distanced himself from her. Without the influence of his boyish charm, his arresting jade eyes, his warming grin and compelling figure, she yet might rid herself of her schoolgirl yearnings. In time, she might banish the sweet tingle that skipped down her spine whenever she thought of him.

She must. Edmund and Kate could never be more than friends.

Aye, and she could ill afford to be distracted from her mission. She must solve the mystery of her birth. Using her ring as a key in this city occupied by a multitude of goldsmiths, Kate held hope of finding her natural mother.

Further, rejecting her papa's suggestion, Kate wished to believe Edmund had only the most noble intentions toward her. After all, he soon would ask for Lady Judith's hand in marriage.

Edmund's kindnesses to Kate were simple ones. True to his word, he had left his beloved hound behind at Rose Hall in the care of Joseph Trumbull. Knowing how the earl cared for Percy and how aggrieved he would feel without the drooling beast at his side, she was excessively grateful for what amounted to a sacrifice of some import on Edmund's part.

More than a week before Lady Cordelia and Kate departed Rose Hall, Lord Stamford had traveled ahead to London. He bid them a fare-thee-well, explaining that before Parliament was seated he meant to oversee the preparations for their arrival at his town house.

Stamford House was an imposing structure located on the fashionable Strand. Edmund's London home boasted mullioned windows, wainscot paneling, waxed and polished oak floors.

Sculpted friezes depicting the tales of mythical Greek gods adorned each chamber. The furnishings were sparse but innovative, including daybeds carved with the Stamford arms. Ornamental wall coverings of maps and richly embroidered tapestries reflected the wealth and interests of the Stamford men who had made this house their home.

Owing to the lack of floor rushes, strewing herbs of hyssop and meadowsweet filled a multitude of baskets placed in every chamber. While Aunt Cordelia was in residence, Edmund was determined to overpower any malodorous city scents that might waft through open windows. He did not desire the blame for any new malady his aunt contracted.

Edmund waited for Kate and Aunt Cordelia in the private dining parlor. He'd quickly taken up the latest departure of dining separately from the servants, and was quite pleased with the smaller chamber.

He rubbed the back of his neck, although nothing ached or itched. 'Twas his nerves unraveling. Edmund had never attempted matchmaking, known by all to be women's work. He excelled in sport, as a man should. Yet, he defied custom for Kate.

If his efforts succeeded, Kate would be none the wiser and happily settled with an adoring husband before summer's end.

"Edmund!"

His sister's voice reminded him that he did not wait alone. Jane and her husband, Alexander Bowers, the Viscount of Chumley, had arrived, as well as the guest of honor, Richard Digby, the noted family limner. After greeting them, he'd left the threesome in conversation while he watched the door for Aunt Cordelia and Kate.

Jane sidled up to him. " Tis been ever so long since you have invited the viscount and me to dinner."

"And I regret my oversight."

"It seems you favor the shades of wine and gold. I should have chosen marigold for the draperies rather than wine velvet."

Edmund did not spend a great deal of time with his sister for good reason. Her critical tongue annoyed him. She noticed every detail and remarked on each.

"I shall consult with you in the future," Edmund replied with a forced smile.

Up until now he'd been pleased with the appearance of his home. Edmund had been under the impression that he'd accomplished pleasant surroundings with little time or interest beyond making Stamford House a welcoming respite for his sporting companions.

"You would be wise." Slanting him a satisfied smile, Jane tipped her head.

"A wise man am I," he jested.

Jane possessed piercing green eyes and little sense of humor. "I do hope you did not find Rose Hall in disrepair," she said.

"Rose Hall flourishes," Edmund reported without hesitation. Which was not quite the truth.

In his diligent pursuit of good sport, Edmund had neglected his properties. He thrived on winning whatever game he played, be it billiards, tennis, archery, or bowling.

As a boy Edmund had been alone and overlooked. By excelling in sport, he'd become a man of consequence whose ability was applauded and whose company was sought after by many. He desired nothing less than the admiration of all he met.

Except, mayhap, Jane.

Seeking escape from his sister's disapproval, Edmund looked to where Jane's bird-watching husband, Viscount Chumley, conversed with Richard Digby.

He wondered what they discussed, willow tit and mistle thrush? What would Digby think of Kate? And she of him?

"What is keeping Aunt Cordelia?" Jane asked, her tone decidedly petulant.

"Our aunt suffered from the journey. She is rather weak."

"Pray pardon, but Aunt Cordelia has never been weak a day in her life."

At that, Aunt Cordelia, resting heavily on Kate's arm, appeared in the doorway. "I have come to dinner," she announced with a blink and a smile.

Suppressing a grin, Edmund's gaze flickered to Kate, who also suppressed a smile, if he weren't mistaken. The twitch of her lips gave her away.