Кейси Майклс - What a Lady Needs

Simon nodded his thanks, but then slid the cigar into his pocket for later in the evening, as he doubted he’d find sleep easily tonight, so a head-clearing walk in the gardens might be in order. For the moment, he was going to find his way back to the long gallery and take another look at Barry Redgrave, and then hunt up the portrait of his father, the sixteenth earl, as well. He’d thought he’d seen something in the background of Barry’s portrait earlier, but he’d dismissed it. Now he wanted a closer look without Dearborn standing behind him, because he’d imagined he’d seen the faint outline of a draped tartan painted in one dim corner inside the frame.

Not the Hunting Stuart tartan, which could be worn by anyone, but the distinctive red and green of the Royal Stuart, reserved for members of the Stuart line, and worn only with the permission of the king.

But that would be insane....

CHAPTER FOUR

KATE WATCHED AS Simon mounted his horse, a fine shiny brown stallion with a white blaze on its handsome face. The horse was ready for a run, but the marquis controlled it beautifully. Not that she’d compliment him on either his fine judge of horseflesh or his horsemanship. Not now, and not if he cleared two five-bar fences while sitting backward in the saddle, playing the flute.

She wasn’t feeling in charity with Simon Ravenbill this morning. She wasn’t very happy about the world in general.

At least Valentine had now answered all her questions, promising he was holding nothing back and there would be no more unpleasant surprises.

The marquis of Singleton wasn’t Valentine’s new friend, but working for the government, and here with Gideon’s blessing. She was only the silly young female who should be hoodwinked, tricked, cajoled if necessary, even romanced, just to keep her from knowing what any fool could see was happening beneath her own roof.

Gideon would get a scathing letter from her in the next few days. Valentine had already received notice of her displeasure with him, and Simon Ravenbill could just go hang, for all she cared.

“Where are we off to?” Valentine asked from atop his bay gelding. “Kate, which fields are lying fallow this year?”

“The entire West Run, but first I want to see the mausoleum.”

“Kate,” Valentine warned, but his tone was resigned. “All right, as I’d rather you didn’t go on your own. Do you mind, Simon?”

Kate looked at him, her chin raised defiantly.

“Not a bit,” he said affably, and then raised one eyebrow at her as if to say happy now, brat?

Clearly the gloves were off, for both of them. She didn’t like him, and he— Well, she didn’t know what he thought of her. Nothing good, surely, not after her explosion last night on the balcony.

She really should attempt to be a better hostess. If only any of her brothers ever brought home somebody normal.

Valentine dismounted, tossing the reins to one of the grooms. “You two go on ahead,” he said as he walked toward the door. “I’ll hunt up Dearborn and get the key.”

Kate felt her stomach do a small flip. She did not want to be alone with the marquis. “No, we’ll wait for—”

“Excellent idea,” Simon interrupted. “Is it far? Hector here is on the frisk. I’d like to give him a short run rather than have to fight him.”

“Kate, take the long way,” Valentine called back over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

Kate was considering hot coals heaped on Val’s head, and didn’t immediately respond.

“You’re thinking up a way to lose me in the woods?” Simon asked, drawing his mount up alongside her Daisy, who wasn’t shy about indicating her interest in the stallion.

“No,” she answered honestly. “I was mulling punishments for Val. But you were next on the list. What are your feelings as to thumbscrews?”

“I’m not particularly enamored, thank you, anyway. You know, I’d wondered if there might be a dungeon somewhere in this great pile of stones.”

Kate acknowledged the jab with a small smile as she urged Daisy ahead at a walk. “I suppose I should apologize for my behavior last night.”

Simon returned her smile, still easily controlling the eager stallion. He didn’t pull at the horse’s mouth by trying to rein it in, or dominate the animal. It was his calm manner that had Hector obeying him. She could admire that sort of talent and understanding. And he really was quite handsome. He couldn’t help that his hair was blond.

“The eavesdropping, or the designs on my liver?”

“Excuse me?” She’d really have to begin concentrating on what he was saying rather than how he looked. After all, he was only a man. She refused to be impressed.

“I was inquiring as to the possible subjects covered in your apology.”

Now who wasn’t listening? “I didn’t apologize. I said I supposed I should.”

“Ah, yes, you’re right. I see the distinction. Would you mind if I apologized?”

She shook her head. “No, that would take too long, as I consider the list to be quite lengthy. I’ll just graciously accept.” They were clear of the circle now, and about to pass through the gates held open by Dickie and Liam. “To the top of the hill, my lord, and then bear to your right and follow the trail. It eventually leads us back around to the other side of the stone fence. You’ll be able to see the mausoleum tucked into the trees at the crest of the far hill. Show off if you feel the need, as I’m certain your mount can best mine, but please don’t frighten the sheep.”

And with that warning, she was off, urging Daisy into a full gallop.

She needed this. The morning sun on her face, the breeze blowing away the cobwebs in her head and easing the heaviness in her heart. Kate’s life had been one long fairy tale here at Redgrave Manor, and even Trixie’s explanation of her parents’ tragic end had been something out of a storybook, made romantic in her mind. A misunderstanding, an impetuous challenge. A warning shot gone mortally astray. A devastated mother forced to leave her beloved children to escape arrest, but vowing to return for them, only to perish in the French Terror. Nearly a Shakespearian tragedy.

Kate could have been content with that fairy tale for all of her life, knowing she was deceiving herself, still embracing the deception. Now her world had turned upside down, and she’d been forced to grow up and face the truth. Oh, how that hurt. It hurt so much.

And it seemed every day brought a new revelation, a fresh ugliness to light. Kate couldn’t go back to her carefully constructed cocoon of wishful dreams, but she couldn’t look away from the nightmare. That the world could end up knowing every Redgrave secret was to be averted at all costs. That Simon Ravenbill already knew those secrets was humiliating past all bearing.

But there was no getting rid of him, not if Gideon approved of his presence. She’d have to face him every day until the journals were found. If she hadn’t had good reason to search for them before, she certainly had one now. Every time she looked at the marquis she would know he knew. And probably judged. Who wouldn’t be suspicious, at the least, and disdainful at the most, of any offspring of two such immoral, deadly monsters who were their parents?

She heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her and moved to the side of the riding trail.

“I’ll be mindful of the sheep!” Simon called out cheerfully as he and his mount blew by her as if Daisy were moving at a sedate trot.

“Show-off, indeed,” Kate muttered, watching him go, the stallion’s hooves kicking up great clouds of brown dust from the dirt trail, the breeze blowing it all straight back at her. She now had two choices: ride the rest of the way eating dust in Simon’s wake, or reining in the mare and only following once he was off the trail and onto the grass. She chose the latter alternative. “Daisy,” she said, brushing dust off the shoulders of her dark blue riding habit, “I do believe this means war. And as he threw down the gauntlet, it’s left to me to choose the weapons—or something like that.”

Wasn’t it strange? She felt much more in charity with Simon when he treated her as her brothers did...as his equal. But this was still war, and he had to be taught a lesson!

By the time she’d reached the mausoleum, Kate had made her choice. Valentine wanted her to practice? She’d practice. But she’d do it her way, as herself and not as some simpering debutante, and Simon would either tumble madly in love with her or go running back to London in fear for his sanity. After all, she was a Redgrave, so it could go either way. And, either way, she’d have his solemn vow to never speak a word of what he knew before she, at least figuratively, kicked him out the door.

Yes, it was the perfect plan. Hadn’t Trixie told her women always win any battle between the sexes, because they are born with more interesting weapons. Kate at last believed she truly understood what her grandmother had meant.

Simon, who had already dismounted and had been sitting on an iron bench placed outside the mausoleum, quickly rose and went to assist Kate from the saddle. But she was far ahead of him, intent on being Kate: she merely tossed him the reins, then lifted her leg to disengage from the pommel, kicked her other leg free of the stirrup and lightly leaped to the ground.

“Very neatly done,” Simon complimented her coolly. “And here I had been so hoping to help you dismount. A man lives for such opportunities, you know. My hands spanning that narrow waist, drawing you closer as I slowly lower you to the ground. A chance for an accidental brushing together of bodies...”

“And an even greater chance of suddenly finding yourself rump down in the dirt.” Kate, far from missish or easily flustered, responded without heat, already looking past him to the large stone mausoleum. She ignored completely the small tingle just then running up her spine. What a maddening man—up close like this, he even smelled good!

“A risk I’d eagerly accept.”

“Then more fool you.” He wasn’t going to stop, was he? This called for a change of subject. She kept her eyes on the mausoleum, certain if she looked at him his green eyes would be laughing. How dare he find her amusing! “But thank you for your attempt at distracting me, although it hasn’t worked. Imposing up close like this, isn’t it? And even larger than I remember from the one time I thought it might be interesting to peek inside, although the stained-glass windows prevented that.”

“All right, I’ll stop teasing you now. Yes, quite imposing, like everything else at Redgrave Manor. The pillars make for a nice touch. Do you come up here often?”

“Never.” Kate shook her head. If she visited her father’s grave, it would only remind her of her mother’s probably unmarked grave in France. But she wouldn’t tell him that. “Trixie always says the dead can keep each other company well enough. It’s not as if they’re really here, you know.” She shook her head again. “Well, Barry isn’t, that’s for certain, not unless he’s haunting the place, looking for his body. Do you believe in ghosts, and talking to the dead?”

Simon had tied Daisy’s reins to a tree branch on the opposite side of the mausoleum from his stallion, and now stood beside Kate once more as they both stared at the family tomb. “I don’t think I’ve given the subject much thought. I would like to speak to my brother, though. A lot of questions could be answered if we had the chance of hearing a voice from beyond one last time.”

Once again Kate thought about her mother. Had Maribel lingered long enough to kiss her infant daughter goodbye, or had she just run off with her French lover? She sighed and turned away. “But we might not like the answers.”