Barbara Metzger (25 page)

“Mr. Dimm’s on his way,” Courtney told Nanny, who was torn between trying to revive her former employer, trying to wipe the blood off Kathlyn, and trying to look out the window. The viscount took the towel and basin from his old nursemaid, to do the job on his beloved himself. “He’ll be here as soon as he makes his report, but he’s fine. And Algie and Woody went to their clubs, so you don’t have to worry about them showing up looking to be fed. Only our Kathlyn here, whose worst misfortune seems to have been missing the picnic lunch.”

Kathlyn was restored with a hearty tea, Lady Chase with a hearty swig of brandy. “My son is a hero,” she told the room at large.

Laughing, Courtney said, “The lady saved herself.” He was still sitting on the sofa, holding Kathlyn’s hand.

She smiled back at him. “Oh, but you would have.”

Lady Bellamy cleared her throat. “Enough of this April and May folderol. We have a wedding to plan.” She and Lady Chase started to describe the nuptials they’d devised. Courtney was willing to let them natter on; he’d get Kathlyn aside later and convince her that the special license would burn a hole in his pocket if not used in a fortnight. A sennight, considering that kiss.

But Kathlyn wasn’t paying attention. “I will not have his lordship forced into marrying me by circumstances beyond his control.”

Tut-tutting, her aunt advised her to listen to wiser heads. “You don’t want to follow in your mother’s footsteps, child. See where it got her? An early grave, a daughter unprovided for.”

“My mother loved my papa!”

“Pish-tish, what’s that to the point? You’ve gone so far beyond the pale that nothing can save you except marriage, and no other man would ever have you. Without a ring on your finger, I cannot even invite you into my home. Such a blemished reputation would reflect badly on your cousins, don’t you know. No, you’ll have to marry him.”

Lady Chase made an unladylike noise. “Let the girl be, Madorra. If she doesn’t want to marry Courtney, she doesn’t have to. I can find her a position with those relations of mine in Edinburgh.”

“No!” shouted Lady Bellamy, seeing dreams of her daughters being launched at Choate House, at the viscount’s expense, vanishing in air. “Her reputation will always be tarnished.”

And “No!” shouted Lord Chase. “I won’t let her go.”

Quietly interjecting a polite cough, Kathlyn said, “Pardon me for interrupting your plans for my future, but I have a suggestion. It seems to me that an engagement ring will work as well as a wedding band. In fact, a hurried wedding will give rise to even more rumors. But if we give out that we’re betrothed, and have had a secret engagement for ages, the ton might forgive our bending the rules.”

“Bending the rules, hah! You broke every one of them, missy, but it just might work.” And it just might give Lady Bellamy time to convince the peagoose where her best interests lay.

Kathlyn turned to the viscount. “You see? We could have a proper engagement for a month or two, after which my name will be cleared and your honor will be satisfied.”

Courtney was on his feet, pacing, almost tripping over the feet of the older ladies in the narrow room. Wolfie gave up and padded out to the kitchen.         “Thunderation, no! What, I should have another broken engagement in my dish? Not on your life! Another ‘we have decided we don’t suit’? Like hell we don’t. We suit to a cow’s thumb. And if you’re hoping to find another eligible
parti,
someone you’ll like better, no honorable man will approach you whilst we’re engaged, so you can give up that idea.”

Kathlyn knew she’d never find any man she could like better, but she’d have him of his own free will or not at all. “Then I’ll go start my school, or take that post your mother mentioned.”

“What, you’d be a drudge in some barren Highland fortress rather than marry me?”

“Rather than marry an unwilling husband, yes. You do not wish to marry me, my lord.”

Courtney pounded the mantel with his sore hand, then winced. “Miss Partland, how many times have I asked you to marry me?”

“Oh, three or four, I suppose, but they don’t count. They were all about your honor and male pride and doing the proper thing to satisfy the conventions. You don’t want
me.”

He picked up the discarded violets that had been sat on, stepped on, and never set in water. Thrusting them into her hand, Courtney sank to his knees beside her sofa. “Miss Kathlyn Partland, I cannot think of anything I have ever wanted more in my entire life than to marry you.” He remembered he still had the ring in his pocket, so he pulled that out and pressed it into her hand, too. “I sincerely believe that I have but one heart, one love to give, and I have been waiting forever just to give it to you.”

“But... but our lives have been so different. We have nothing in common.”

“Do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Blushing, she replied, “You know I am!”

“There, that’s two things in common right off. Nothing else matters, my love.”

“Oh, Courtney,” she said through tears of happiness, “you are my all-the-world.”

He sat back. “I suppose that’s better than ‘Oh, it’s you,’ but what the deuce does it mean?”

“It means I’ve spent too much time with Master Shakespeare, that’s all.”

“Blasted bookishness! Does it mean yes?”

“Of course it does, my love.”

Chapter Twenty-seven

The sun was shining on the wedding, of course. It wasn’t the bright, clear sunshine of May or June that Lady Bellamy wished, but a soft yellow glow that kissed winter good-bye.

The little chapel was filled with roses and rare orchids from conservatories, and the first spring wildflowers from the countryside, snowdrops and myrtle. The Bellamy sisters were bridesmaids, and Meg’s older children were ring bearer and flower girl. Mr. Dimm gave the bride away, Mrs. Dawson signed as witness, the dowager viscountess wept, and Lady Bellamy gloated that the Bellamy diamonds were finer than anything Lady Chase owned. Algie and Woody stood up with the groom, making book on the arrival of the first child and whether it would be the heir or not. The duke had decided not to attend; he’d save his energy for dandling his grandchildren on his knee, or that new barmaid at the local tavern. Instead, he sent the wedding couple a priceless statue of Astarte—a fertility goddess, what else?

And the bride and groom? Well, the love that glowed in their hearts would keep them warm for the rest of their lives, no matter the weather.

* * * *

“A fine piece of detective work,” Nanny Dawson congratulated Mr. Dimm after all the guests had left.

“What, seeing those two were a match? ‘Twere as plain as the noses on them Bellamy girls.”

Nanny dabbed at her eyes. “I knew Miss Kathlyn was a real lady, right from the start.”

“Aye, and didn’t she make that squeezecrab aunt pay out the reward money so she could share it with all her friends? That’s Quality.”

Nanny sniffed again. “I’ll miss the dear girl. It was lovely having the young people around. It makes me wish I had more than the one chick.”

“Do you now?” Mr. Dimm handed over his linen handkerchief. “Did I ever tell you about my son Gabriel or my girl Sarah? Then there’s my sister’s brood, and my cousin’s boy who stays with me on school vacations....”

* * * *

A ray of sunshine woke Kathlyn on the morning after her wedding, that and the kisses her new husband was feathering across her eyelids. Courtney was smiling, dimples and all. “I told you I’d know how to do it.”

Copyright © 1997 by Barbara Metzger

Originally published by Fawcett Crest (ISBN 0449225062)

Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.