How to Seduce a Scot (16 page)

Catherine dressed with care for her outing to Richmond. She wore a soft green walking dress and pelisse that matched her eyes. Instead of one of her two bonnets that blocked her view of the world, she wore her Sunday hat, which perched on her curls in a becoming fashion but left her eyes free to roam.

She wanted all her faculties about her that day, including her vision.

Margaret raced up and down the staircase, happy as a lark to be going with them. Her mother was strangely calm, standing in the foyer next to a new bouquet from Mr. Pridemore, this one a huge, almost funereal bunch of lilies. Mrs. Middlebrook adjusted her hat, fiddling with it halfheartedly to see how it might look best. Catherine wanted to ask her about Pridemore, but did not. She had enough of her own troubles that day without borrowing more.

The Waterses and Lord Farleigh arrived almost at the same time. Robert Waters was nowhere to be seen, but Alex was very much in evidence, looking too huge to fit in the duchess's carriage. He helped Mary Elizabeth down from her perch and moved to deal with the horses, but not before giving Catherine a smile that told her she was in trouble, and deeply so.

She shook with fear and longing together, drawing her friend away from the others to whisper in her ear.

“I need your help, Mary Elizabeth.”

“Anything,” her friend answered. “Is there a mouse in the house that needs catching?”

“No. I need you to keep Alexander away from me.”

Mary Elizabeth looked at her shrewdly from beneath her own fashionable hat. Her clear maple eyes took all of Catherine in, and seemed to see past her worries into her soul. “I thought you liked him,” was all she said.

Catherine felt truly terrible, but she knew there was worse to come. She pushed her pain aside, and hid it in her heart. “I do. But I need to be free of him today.”

Mary Elizabeth nodded. “Done. Think no more about it.”

“He is very determined, Mary Elizabeth.”

Mary Elizabeth smiled at her, and for a moment, Catherine's heart lightened a little as she stood in its warmth. “So am I.”

Lord Farleigh was beside her then, and the girls could no longer speak in confidence.

“Miss Middlebrook. Miss Waters. What a delightful day this promises to be. I hope you fancy cold chicken and white wine.”

Mary Elizabeth turned her smile on him. “I do, my lord. Will you be so kind as to show us your horseflesh? Arabians, are they not?”

“Quarter horses, but you have a very good eye.” Lord Farleigh's pale face lit up as he began to expound on horse breeding, crossing lines to get stamina as well as beauty, the differences between racing horses versus driving cattle, and so forth. Catherine did not understand or care about a word of it, but it got her placed gently in Lord Farleigh's high flyer with the lap blanket securely around her waist to keep off the dust from the road.

Her mother smiled over at her as she allowed Alexander Waters to settle her into the duchess's carriage, and Margaret clambered up behind her, talking to Alex nonstop about the baby bird that was roosting at her windowsill.

Mary Elizabeth bowed to Lord Farleigh almost like a man. Once he was secure on the high seat with the reins in his hands, she gave his lead horse a thump on the rump and his matched grays moved quickly off into traffic, leaving the rest of the party behind. “We will see you there,” Mary Elizabeth called after them, waving her cream-gloved hand.

Catherine could feel the heat of Alex's gaze piercing her like a blade, but then they turned the corner and were safely out of sight.

“That was neatly done,” Lord Farleigh said.

Catherine feigned ignorance. “I beg your pardon?”

“It seems we have at least one ally among your friends and relations. I am obliged to her. I was afraid your—did you say Scottish ‘cousin'?—was going to wrest you from me and tuck you up beside him in the duchess's carriage along with your mother and sister.”

Catherine could not help but laugh, for she knew that was exactly what Alex would have done, given enough time and opportunity.

“I will bring you to a spot I know close by the river. Richmond is a bit of a drive, but is a lovely place. Have you been there before?”

“Never,” Catherine answered, smiling, trying valiantly to put her Scottish “cousin” out of her head, and failing.

“Well, this will be a lovely first then. The place is filled with old trees, oaks, and hawthorns, from the days when it was a hunting preserve for the king.”

“Does the King not hunt there now?”

Lord Farleigh looked at her sidelong, and she saw the humor lurking there and found herself smiling in earnest. “I fear our good sovereign is a bit too rotund to be a sporting man.”

Catherine laughed out loud again, and did her best to enjoy his company. He was all that was gracious and charming. She knew that she had to thank him for his intervention in the matter of the mortgage, but it was such a beautiful morning, she told herself,
Not just yet
.

* * *

“Mary Elizabeth, what were you thinking? Sending off Miss Middlebrook in that carriage with a man we barely know?” Alex felt a headache begin behind the backs of his eyes.

His sister, usually so quick to leap aboard any conveyance, noodled about the front of this one, looking after the horses. She petted the nose of the lead horse and gave him a bit of sugar from somewhere up her sleeve. The second horse saw that and jostled for one himself, and Alex blew out a breath so that he would not curse in front of Mrs. Angel. She would not approve of him as a son-in-law if he used florid language in front of ladies in the middle of a quiet street.

“My daughter is headstrong, like your sister there.” Mrs. Angel leaned back against the velvet squabs like a potentate, ready to convey to him the wisdom of the world. As long as she spoke of his angel, he would listen. “Catherine doesn't seem overly stubborn, until you cross her,” Mrs. Angel said. “But then, watch out.”

He looked down at his sister's bent head, where she was now whispering sweet nothings in his geldings' ears. “What would you suggest?”

“Don't take no for an answer,” Mrs. Angel said. Margaret listened to her mother solemnly, and for once did not interrupt to talk about birds.

“Mrs. Middlebrook, I am a gentleman.”

Mrs. Angel waved one hand. “Yes, yes, no doubt. I'm not saying kidnap her and carry her off to the Highlands—unless you must. But I don't think it will come to that.”

“What are you saying, ma'am, if I might inquire?”

She laughed out loud at him, her blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, but you are delicious! If I were twenty years younger, I'd give my girl a run for her money.”

Alex felt himself blush beneath his tan. He looked down between the ears of his horses. Mary Elizabeth was now currying their manes with a comb from her reticule.

Mrs. Angel reached over and patted his knee. “Don't trouble yourself, my boy. I have my own kettle of fish to fry.” She leaned back once more, surveying the beauty of the day as if she had ordered it from God herself. “What I am saying, young Mr. Alex of Glenderrin, is that for some reason known only to her, my daughter has convinced herself that Lord Farleigh is good for her, the way the nastiness of castor oil is supposed to purge you of all ills.”

Mrs. Angel shuddered beside him, and Alex found himself smiling at her.

“She is as stubborn as her father, and once she has the bit between her teeth, you'll have a devil of a time getting her back under control.”

“I don't want to control her,” Alex answered honestly. “I just want to love her.”

Tears came into Mrs. Angel's eyes, and she drew out a lace handkerchief and wiped them away. “You'll do, Alex Waters. You'll do. Just heed my warning. She loves you, or I'm blind and in my dotage already. Now, we had best get on, or they'll have eaten all his lordship's chicken.”

“Catherine can't eat that much,” Margaret said.

But Alex heeded her mother.

“Mary Elizabeth, leave those horses be and get in this carriage now, or I'm leaving you behind on the street.”

His sister must have heard in his voice that he meant business, for she vaulted into the carriage and away they went.

He had an angel to run to ground, and he was burning daylight.

* * *

Catherine had never seen such a pretty spot in her life, save at home in Devon. The Thames ran close by, and Richmond Park was filled with towering oaks that seemed to block out the sun. Lord Farleigh stopped in a green clearing, where a pavilion was already set up. She wondered for a moment if someone grand had been there before them, then realized that the pavilion with its table and chairs had been placed for them.

Footmen in livery served her a glass of wine as soon as her feet touched the soft, spongy grass. She turned to look at the vista that led down to the river. “We will walk there later, if you wish,” Lord Farleigh said.

“I would like that,” she answered, smiling up at him.

She wished in that moment that it was not the Thames but the river Lethe, that she might drink from it and forget she had ever met Alex. She wished that she might leave all this pain and love behind her as if it had never been. Then she was ashamed of herself. Love was not something one should forget, whatever pain it brought.

Her family arrived. Alex must have driven hell for leather through the country roads, for Mary Elizabeth tumbled out of the carriage at once, leading Margaret toward a great oak while Alex helped her mother down. Her mother winked at her, but then looked over her shoulder at the sound of fresh carriage wheels turning on the gravel road. Mr. Pridemore appeared, roses in hand, driving his own high flyer. He stopped his horses with a flourish, and waved his hat down to her mother, who waved back, a smile of joy on her face.

Catherine was not sure what Mr. Pridemore's intentions were, but he certainly seemed to make her mother happy. Once she was safely married to Lord Farleigh, he could look further into Mr. Pridemore and see to it that his intentions were good.

Somehow, in spite of Lord Farleigh's solicitous regard as he seated her at table, this did not comfort her as she had thought it might.

Alex sat down across the table from her, ignoring the wine the footman offered. Instead, he reached inside his coat and brought out a silver flask lined with leather, a flask that bore his initials. “Good day to you, Miss Middlebrook.”

“Good day, Mr. Waters. I do hope you enjoyed the drive.”

“Not as much as you did, I gather.”

She blushed, looking down at her own half-empty wineglass. She watched in silence as a footman filled it, feeling a strange thrill at the sound of Alex's voice. If she did not know better, she would say he sounded almost jealous. To have such a beautiful, virile man show jealousy over her made her head swim. She took another sip.

Mary Elizabeth joined them, sitting between Alex and Mr. Pridemore. She started a lively discussion of fishing reels that all the gentlemen seemed entranced by, even Lord Farleigh. Only Alex did not listen to a word of it, but ate his chicken like a savage, ripping at the breast before him as if it were responsible for all the world's ills. Catherine watched him surreptitiously, no longer happy with his jealousy but made miserable by it.

She wished before God and all His angels that she did not owe Lord Farleigh the mortgage on her father's land. If she did not, she would run away with Alex that very day, and forget the consequences to her reputation and to her life. She would live beside a cold inland stream in the wilds of the north, freezing near to death each winter. She would even learn to fish if she must, if it would please him.

In that moment of pain, Lord Farleigh leaned over and offered her a bit of bread from the basket. She took it, and the butter he gave her, with murmured thanks. She might wish for the moon, but she would not hold it in her hand.

The man beside her was her future, and she would have to learn to live with that.

Alex could not get closer to his angel than across the table. Lord Loverboy, on the other hand, seemed always at the ready to ply her with wine, a fresh bite of bread, a tender morsel of chicken—once from his own plate. If Alex had ever seen such a shameless display among decent people, he could not recollect it.

He wished he were the one chasing her so openly. But she would not even meet his eyes.

Maybe Mrs. Angel was right, and Catherine had convinced herself to stay in London for the rest of her life. Perhaps she meant to marry the ingrate. Alex vowed that he would speak to her that very day, that she might know his mind, and thus change her own. He rose after the meal was through to take her on a walk down by the river, but Margaret ran off and Mary Elizabeth after her.

He was distracted for a moment, watching Mary Elizabeth hike up her skirts like any hoyden, and make the leap to the lowest branch of a great oak. The oak grew close to the water's edge. Alex knew she could swim, but even his fearless sister was not immune breaking her neck.

“Mary Elizabeth, come down from there, for the love of God!”

She ignored him, as she always seemed to do of late. Margaret joined her on the lowest branch, after receiving a hoist from her newfound friend in climbing towering trees and descending high windows.

He looked away from his sister and her charge for a moment, searching out his angel. She was standing demurely beside the river, looking at a pleasure boat that was sailing by. It seemed to be piloted by someone Lord Loverboy knew, for he waved and called to them, and the gentleman at the prow doffed his hat and bowed to Catherine, who smiled and waved in return.

Alex took pleasure in the beauty of her body, in the clean lines of the green gown that matched her moss-colored eyes. He knew that she had made it herself. Unlike fool Englishmen and women of the
ton
, he liked a woman who plied a needle to make her own clothes, a woman who had practical skills to serve herself and her household.

As his wife, she would not need them, but the fact that she had them pleased him inordinately. His mother would be pleased as well. She would forgive the fact that he had out-and-out disobeyed her, and married while down south. Born English herself, Lady Glenderrin could surely not fault him for falling in love with one of her former countrywomen.

Falling in love. It seemed a ridiculous notion. Until it happened to you.

He lost sight of his angel as she turned a bend in the river with her English swain. He was about to go after them, in case Lord Loverly thought to steal a kiss, but he heard his sister shriek, and he looked back to the great oak.

All he could see was Mary Elizabeth clinging to a high branch over the river. This did not concern him, but the odd fact that she kept shrieking did. She pointed down into the water, and it was then he realized that Miss Margaret had vanished.

The girl's head bobbed and ducked with the water's flow. She had not yet been swept into the main, shipping current of the river, the great tide that pulled large ships out to sea. He swore as he leaped into the river to fish her out, ruining a good pair of shoes in the process.

He soon forgot his shoes, for though he was a strong swimmer and the river warm with spring that was quickly moving toward summer, Margaret fought him like a cornered alley cat, not seeming to understand that he was trying to save her. She struggled against him and the river both, and he gave thanks to God that she had enough strength and enough bare ability to paddle so that he had time to reach her.

He was fighting against the current now, and Mary Elizabeth waved to him from the riverbank. She had pulled a length of rope out of the duchess's carriage, weighted one end by tying a branch to it, and tossed it toward him. He swam not for the shore then, but for that branch, Margaret caught secure under one arm. The girl still flailed about, but much of the fight had gone out of her.

And there were fools who said that prayer was never answered.

If he had had only Mary Elizabeth to help pull him in, he would have floated a good ways downstream and out to sea perhaps, but Pridemore had seen the madness and come running. He anchored the rope, pushing Mary Elizabeth out of the way. Between Alex's strong kicks and Pridemore's strong back, they managed to haul himself and Margaret back to shore.

He dropped the branch as soon as he had his feet under him, and carried the girl up the riverbank. He seated her on a dry rock in the sun, and then left her to the shrieking assistance of her mother.

Pridemore handed him a flask, for he had lost his in the river.

“Quick thinking,” was all the older man said.

“I was lucky, and you pulled us out.”

“I had help.”

They drank together in a moment of silence, and Alex took his measure.

“So,” he said, “I feel I must ask your intentions.” Alex had meant to couch his speech in some measure of politeness, but they were men of action. Pridemore did not shrink from him, as Alex had known he would not. The man simply smiled.

“I might ask you the same thing.”

“I'm going to marry my girl, if I can get her alone for the space of a heartbeat so that I can propose to her,” Alex answered.

Pridemore's gaze fell on Mrs. Angel, who was even then trying valiantly to pat her daughter dry with her own shawl. Alex saw the other man's gaze soften just a touch, but it was enough.

“I have asked for my lady's hand. She has not yet answered me,” Pridemore admitted.

Alex did not speak again, as there was no more need for words between them. He sipped at his new friend's whisky. He wondered if Pridemore was in a hurry to wed, as he was. Perhaps they might make it a double wedding.

He hoped Uncle Richard had sent the special license on from Westminster. The Bishop of London was no doubt a busy man, but never too busy for family.

Mary Elizabeth came to him then, looking as shamefaced as if she had killed a man. Pridemore strode off to comfort Mrs. Angel, and Alex faced his sister down, still dripping with foul river water.

“Alex, I am so sorry.”

He saw the pain in her eyes, and he patted her arm. He would have hugged her, but he did not want to ruin her pretty walking dress with his sodden embrace.

“It is not your fault she fell, Mary.”

“I should never have brought her up into the tree with me. She never would have climbed, and never would have fallen, had I not been here.”

“Well,” he said, trying to keep his voice level and calm, to head off the tears in her eyes. He had rarely seen his sister cry, yet she had teared up twice in two days. Could the Apocalypse be nigh? “She had the good sense to fall into the river instead of breaking her neck on the ground. That's something.”

“Alex, I told Catherine I would keep you from her this day. That's why I brought Margaret up into the tree. If you had to keep an eye on me, you would not hunt Catherine to ground.”

Alex sighed. “And why would you do that, Mary? I thought you liked her.”

“I do like her. A great deal.” Mary Elizabeth's hazel eyes met his, and he saw the green that skirted her pupils. “I did it because she asked me to.”

Alex felt as if another cold, foul sluice of river water had been tossed over his head. But he stood on dry land, and his feet were firm under him. He took out his sodden handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his forehead with it. Moving water from one place to another on his person gave him something to do.

“You were being true to a friend, Mary. I will never fault you for that.”

Mary Elizabeth hugged him, her thin arms around his waist. She squeezed him hard, as he had always squeezed her when she was feeling down after a fight with their mother.

“I am sorry, Alex.”

He hugged her close, and kissed her forehead. “Don't fret yourself, little sister. It will all come out right in the end.”

“She loves you Alex. I'm sure of it.”

He smiled down at her, feigning a confidence he no longer felt. “Sure and she does. What woman can resist a Glenderrin man?”

Mary Elizabeth laughed, but his heart was still black.