Sandra Madden (16 page)

Dismissing all the angry words she meant to say, she turned her gaze heavenward. A pale crescent moon and a blanket of glittering stars filled the clear night sky.

"Are you thinking the planets will hand you a husband?" Edmund asked in a soft, droll tone,

"I trust the stars more than you my lord. Begging your pardon."

"You wound me."

"Do you know what I seek in a man?"

Edmund shrugged. "What every woman seeks."

Kate advanced upon him so that they were only inches apart. "Which would be?"

"A kind fellow, with great wealth."

"You mistake the matter, Lord Stamford. I seek much more."

"Pray, enlighten me, Mistress Kate."

She whirled around on the path, thinking to return to the ball before she was missed by Lady Cordelia, or worse, by Lady Judith.

Gazing over her shoulder to where Edmund stood beneath the flickering light of a torch, Kate enlightened him quietly. ''When the time comes, I shall seek a husband who is fair and just. A man who owns more than sheep. He shall have intelligence and humor and care not a wit what is said of him because he shall be true to himself." She made for the arched entrance. “'And he shall want four children."

Edmund followed Kate; she could hear his boots on the path.

"You desire more than one man can promise," he said. A peevish growl laced his tone.

"There is more."

"God save you!" His boots made a skidding sound on a patch of gravel.

Kate turned and met his eyes. Edmund must not mistake her meaning, nor her resolve. Though there was no one visible in the garden to hear them, Kate spoke in a hushed voice. "I desire a husband whom I may love without reservation. I shall not be merely one of his possessions. My husband will love me with his whole heart and soul... evermore."

A silence fell between them, and when at last Edmund responded, he did so with a strange hoarseness. "Loving you will not be difficult... for any man."

Kate's heart fluttered madly, and sunk. She lowered her eyes for a fleeting moment before meeting his gaze once more. "As for finding a proper husband for me, your time would be better spent hawking with your friends—”

"I do not hawk."

"I mean to find my own husband, Lord Stamford."

He hiked an imperious brow. "As you will. But never say I did not attempt to help."

"Oh, fie!" Kate blurted, jolted by fresh anger.

"What say you?" Edmund appeared shocked.

"Prithee, do not meddle in my life henceforth," she warned with a wag of a finger, before turning and sailing from the garden.

* * * *

The devil! It had been such a simple plan. A plan, contrived with the best, most noble intent. How could Edmund have guessed Kate would resent his efforts to find her a husband and save her from a life of servitude. There was no understanding the woman.

She successfully avoided Edmund for a week, choosing instead to spend her time with his aunt and sister. Although Edmund knew Kate looked upon physicians with a skeptical eye, loathed shopping, and felt uncomfortable in Jane's presence, she nevertheless accompanied his two relatives to every physician, seamstress, and fortune-teller in London—rather than spend time with him.

Each time Edmund stopped by the garden hoping to find Kate alone, he met new evidence she'd been working in the neglected spot, but she was never anywhere to be seen. He decided his impertinent childhood friend gardened by moonlight purposefully to avoid him.

Edmund grew more disgruntled as the days went by with only a passing nod from Kate. While he oft heard the merry peal of her laughter from behind closed doors, the cause of her amusement was not shared with him. While he might inhale her sweet rose fragrance, 'twas only the slightest whiff that lingered in the halls where she had passed.

Day by day his desperation grew until Edmund did what he knew would be the only way to regain Kate's favor. He accompanied her to every goldsmith in London. 'Twas a tiring, futile ordeal, but Kate appeared content once again.

They had reached the last shop.

"No, mistress. I've ne'er seen the like."

"Do you know where I might look next?" she asked the puzzled goldsmith. "We have exhausted our search at the known goldsmith shops."

"You may have to travel outside of London," the craftsman told her, scratching his head.

Master Brown had been their last hope in London.

Upon seeing the crestfallen expression on Kate's face, Edmund felt as if the hand of Hercules gripped his heart and squeezed. Her pain had become his. God's blood.

Clasping Kate's hand, Edmund led her from the shop. "Come, we shall not give up."

"Not give up?" Withdrawing her hand, she inclined her head as if he were a great puzzle. "Only days ago you refused to assist in my search."

"Because I feared what has proved to be so. No one has seen a ring similar to yours or recognizes the craftsmanship. I wished to save you heartache, Kate, but you railed against me as if I were the worst villain."

"I had to make the attempt even though I understood disappointment might be my only reward. Nothing is achieved without effort." Kate's shoulders sagged; her voice softened to barely a whisper. "I know 'tis impossible to visit every goldsmith in Britain."

When Kate looked up at him, tears misted her eyes, the gleaming deep gold giving way to the shadowy shade of dark ale. Her lower lip quivered. "Shall I never know, Edmund?"

Edmund felt as if his heart were being torn from his body. "One day you will know," he said, a lie of kindness meant to comfort. "Perhaps the one who bestowed the ring upon you is also searching... and will find you."

Her eyes widened. "Do you truly think so?"

The moment of satisfaction Edmund found for his quick thinking gave way. The new hope shining through Kate's tears caused Edmund's throat to close. He choked.

"Aye," he lied, when at last he found his voice again.

She smiled, a small shaky smile. "You are as kind as you were when just a boy."

In an impulsive move to offer further comfort—as any friend would do—Edmund took up her hand and squeezed it. Soft and warm, her long, slender fingers wrapped around his hand as if it were the natural thing to do. His heart pounded in a sequence of off-rhythm beats. He liked the fit and feeling of Kate's hand in his.

By the time his heart returned to a normal beat, Edmund's feeling of contentment vanished. If he and Kate were seen walking hand in hand, Aunt Cordelia's gossiping friends would embellish his innocent, benevolent gesture to something lewd and improper. 'Twas how gossip prospered. Lady Cordelia would take to her bed in a swoon.

Lady Judith would certainly hear of it as well. She likely would not understand that Kate had been his faithful companion in years past. Judith would not understand the bonds of friendship that might exist between a man and a woman. How could Edmund expect Judith's understanding if he did not fully comprehend it himself? Quite.

Edmund stopped in the center of the road and released Kate's hand, holding his index finger across his lips as if he'd just had a thought. He had.

"There is a fair at Charing Cross. Would you like to attend?"

Kate's head snapped up, and her shoulders straightened. "Oh, aye, Edmund!"

He took it as a favorable sign that she called him Edmund. When the gardener's daughter addressed him as Lord Stamford, it usually meant she was vexed with him. At last she had forgiven his bungled matchmaking attempts!

Assailed by a brief but deep stab of disappointment, Edmund put aside his plans to meet Carew for a game of tennis and a tavern visit or two. Kate required cheering.

* * * *

'Twas midafternoon when Edmund and Kate reached the fairgrounds at Charing Cross. Beneath a hazy sunlit sky, tumblers and acrobats, jesters and musicians roamed the fairgrounds pestering all to perform for a shilling or two.

Dust and noise abounded. Vendors hawked meat pies, ale, old clothes, and candles. An array of goods from lace to cutlery were on display, and the aroma of warm gingerbread and roasting almonds filled the air.

Though she tried, Kate could not take in all of the sights and sounds, the disparate crowd of people at once. "I have never been to such a large fair," she exclaimed in breathless wonder.

Edmund chuckled softly. "You will find something to please every subject in the queen's kingdom."

"Look! A cunning woman!"

But Edmund did not share Kate's excitement. "A fortune-teller who will cozen many a man and woman before the fair is over."

"I must see if she will cozen me."

"Kate, do you intend to consult her? Is not one stargazer enough?" he asked.

But unable to discourage her, Edmund trailed close at Kate's heels as she hurried to the fortune-teller's crude table.

"Jutta read the planets and stars for me before I left Rose Hall—"

"By your leave?" Edmund interrupted, his tone plainly incredulous.

"How else could I wisely determine my actions if I did not know what lay ahead here in London?"

"Kate, you are not a light-minded woman, how is it that you—”

"But... something is awry," she interrupted, before Edmund could mock her unmercifully, as she knew he prepared to do. "What Jutta predicted for me is oddly off the mark. And I wrote down all that she had to say so that I would not forget."

Her handsome escort groaned.

Despite Edmund's evident displeasure, Kate continued to defend her astrologer. "I fear 'twas a conjunction of the planets Jutta could not fathom nor take into account."

"And mayhap your destiny is not written in the stars. Perhaps you alone influence your future," Edmund argued. " 'Tis only for healing purposes that we should turn to the science of astrology. And even then I am not quite certain."

But Kate no longer listened. She had reached the fortune-teller.

"Welcome. I am Madame Loca, at you service."

Madame Loca possessed a dark olive complexion and flashing, raven eyes. Her high cheekbones stood out sharply and her hair fell over her eyes and about her shoulders in an ebony mass of tangles. Though the day was warm, the young fortune-teller wore layers of plum-colored clothing. Scores of silver bangle bracelets tinkled on her arm.

Kate suspected the forbidding woman was a gypsy, people known for their unfathomable powers to see into the future.

Loca peered up at Kate through her veil of dark hair. "Your fortune for a shilling."

"Edmund, would you mind?"

Edmund withdrew a coin and tossed it to the small table. " 'Tis a waste of a shilling," he grumbled.

"I shall repay you," Kate assured him.

"Do not think of it."

Kate took a seat on the wobbling stool across from the fortune-teller. With a quick smile, she encouraged Madame Loca to begin.

"You have a cloud hanging over your head, lady."

Kate slanted Edmund a knowing sideways glance. "You see, Edmund? The fortune-teller speaks truly from the start."

Edmund rolled his eyes. "Which cloud do you speak of?" he asked Madame Loca. "The cloud above us or the one Kate carries in her mind?"

"Hush," Kate hissed beneath her breath.

The fortune-teller gazed into her hazy ball as if she had not heard either Kate or Edmund. "You shall find love at the end of a difficult road."

"I knew it! I could have told you that, Kate. Show me a beautiful woman who will not find love," he crowed.

Although she fixed a sweet smile upon her lips, Kate narrowed her eyes in warning as she gazed up at him and made her request in a decidedly icy tone. "Please leave us for a moment."

"Bloody hell!"

"Edmund!"

"I am merely attempting to save you from disappointment."

"Edmund."

"Pray pardon. I shall stand way off by the tree."

Kate leaned closer to the fortune-teller. "By your leave, my friend is not a believer."

"He is your lover."

Madame Loca's words pricked at Kate's heart. "Oh, nay. Nay. Edmund can never be my lover."

The fortune-teller shrugged. "I see a life of ease. Many children."

An image of the bookseller and his six children flashed through Kate's mind. "Less than half a dozen children?"

"Four."

Kate let out her breath and asked the most important question. "Do you see the clearing of the cloud that hangs over me and darkens my life?"

"Aye."

"Verily?"

"Aye. Verily.

"When?"

"When you open your heart."

"But my heart is open," Kate protested.

"You must open your heart to all possibilities."

"I do not understand," Kate said.

"All will be made clear."

A heavy, melancholy sigh whispered through Kate's body. Edmund had spoken the truth. She had been cozened. The fortune-teller had no insight.

She felt his eyes upon her, watching her yet again. But when she looked over to the tree, he was not there. 'Twas a bullish stout man who leered at her. Kate's gaze fastened on the stranger's startling blue eyes. He hurried away.

Where then was Edmund?

Kate scanned the crowd, an uneasy feeling stirring in the pit of her stomach. But she hadn't far to search for Lord Stamford.

He leaned against a post, his arms folded against his chest, head cocked to one side, contemplating her with an enigmatic smile.

With a start, he straightened. Too late, he must have realized he'd been watching her again. His lips quirked in amusement as he cast Kate a roguish wink and strode off toward a vendor.

No matter how she resolved to control her emotions, Edmund's lusty, black-clad form never failed to make her heart jump, her knees weak, and her bones to melt to butter. If the earl were her lover, Kate should most likely die in his arms of bliss, pure, utter bliss.

A theory Kate would enjoy testing, but knew she never could.

"I see fur," Loca said, gazing into her cloudy ball. "You must overcome fear of animals."

Kate feared only dogs. "Percy?"

"The animal will be a loyal ally."

"Percy!" The fortune-teller went too far.

"The name is not clear."

The bullish man passed behind Madame Loca once again, not ten yards away. Was he attempting to hear Kate's fortune? Had an important person heard of her search among the goldsmiths of London? Someone important to her past... and future?