Sandra Madden (17 page)

Edmund's low whistling brought Kate back to her senses. Her imagination soared while Lord Stamford waited impatiently. He carried two meat pies.

"Do you see naught else in your crystal, Madame Loca?" Kate entreated the stoic fortune-teller rather desperately.

She had learned nothing. She remained incomplete. Adrift. Was there no one who could supply her answers?

"You are like the restless wind swirling through tunnels and forests, over meadows and sweeping the ramparts. Be silent and open your heart. Contentment will come to you."

The bullish man strode passed in the opposite direction.

Kate beckoned the fortune-teller with a crooked finger and whispered low. "Am I in danger?"

Madame Loca consulted her crystal ball, peering at length into the smoky glass. "Aye."

"Aye?" Although she had asked the question, 'twas not the answer Kate had expected.

Gazing into the flawed crystal, the olive-skinned fortune-teller nodded her head in a grave manner.

"Where does the danger lie?" Kate asked with racing heart.

" Tis not clear."

Oh, fie!

The fortune-teller raised her head and smiled. She refused to say more. No amount of prodding by Kate moved her. Finally Kate stood, and after bidding the tangled-haired woman a good day, she marched to where Edmund waited.

"Has the future been made clear to you?"

"Prithee, do not mock me."

"Very well. You are not in a sporting mood." He gave her one of the meat pies as he took another large bite of his.

Kate gulped down the pie. "Mmm. My thanks; 'tis tasty."

"Aye. And did Madame Loca tell you anything of import?" he asked, before licking his fingers.

In grave fascination, Kate watched the tip of his tongue slowly swipe each finger. A delicious chill ran through her.
Oh, hey-ho!

She would give all her earthly possessions—save her ring—if Edmund would lick her fingers clean.

"Kate?"

"The fortune-teller says that I'm in danger."

"Foolishness."

"There is a man watching me, perhaps following me."

"Kate, influenced by the charlatan wench, you have allowed your imagination to run wild."

"I know when I am being watched."

"Describe the man."

"He puts me in mind of a bull. He is of average height, round and solid with a wide face and flaring nostrils. His eyes are a bright blue, but he wears dark clothing."

"Where did you see him?"

"Where you stand now. He passed by twice while Madame Loca read my fortune."

Instead of expressing alarm, Edmund chuckled. "By your leave, the bull is in league with Madame Loca."

"I do not agree."

"Pray, put this incident out of your mind, Kate. Look, I have a gift for you, so that you will always remember our day at the fair,"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out two dainty amber earrings.

"Ooooh, Edmund. How lovely."

"The amber is quite like the shade of your eyes, don't you think?"

Kate did not know what to think. "Thank you, my lord," she said at last.

Light-headed with delight and a dash of confusion, she gazed at the delicate jewels. Jewels for the ears were the newest fashion. She would treasure them always, the only jewelry she owned beside her rose-and-crown ring.

All thoughts of the strange man vanished.

'Twas much later in the day that Kate spotted his bull-like figure standing in the shadows on the Strand, directly across from Stamford House. Before she could point him out to Edmund, the stranger slipped deeper into the shadows and disappeared.

Rather than risk Edmund's cynicism, Kate said nothing.

Chapter Eleven

Good tidings await you

It was dusk by the time Kate and Edmund returned to Stamford House. 'Twas late, but he did not suppose Aunt Cordelia would miss them overmuch. He hadn't planned on visiting the fair.

And he hadn't expected the number of messages awaiting him. His light-hearted mood evaporated within seconds of ushering Kate over the threshold. Although she'd been saddened by the lack of information about her rose-and-crown ring, she'd been happy at the fair.

Edmund paid no mind to her fear that she was being followed. 'Twas Kate's imagination run amuck yet again. Who would follow a gardener's daughter? And for what reason? Absurd.

The marshal of the hall delivered the first bit of news. "Lady Judith Witherspoon is with Lady Cordelia in her solar, my lord."

Edmund tipped his head in acknowledgment and repressed a groan. 'Twas
trying
to be near Judith.

"The Duke of Doneval called upon Mistress Kate. He left his card and these roses."

Kate beamed with pleasure as she took up the large bouquet of scarlet roses from the bench. The sweet fragrance of the flowers caused Edmund to sneeze.

What was the duke thinking, he wondered. The Scot's sense of protocol seemed sorely lacking. A nobleman sending flowers to a gentlewoman? It wasn't done.

"Look, are they not beautiful?" Kate asked. She buried her nose in the flowers and inhaled a noisy breath.

Edmund dutifully regarded the roses. And instantly regretted the small size of his gift to Kate. The amber earrings, that reminded him of the shade and sparkle of her eyes, fit quite comfortably in the palm of her hand—perhaps on the tip of her finger. The duke's gift of roses filled Kate's arms to overflowing.

"Beautiful and extravagant, as well," he replied dryly, and sneezed once more.

Kate inclined her head, her finely arched brows slanted in the slightest of frowns.

The marshal jumped into the thick, rose-scented silence. "Master Moore also called and left his card. He requested to ride with Mistress Kate on the morrow."

Edmund's belly constricted into a tight lead ball. True, he had recently promised not to meddle in Kate's affairs, but he no longer trusted James. Left alone with Kate, the barrister might take liberties. Kissing the barrister the way she had in the garden no doubt had stirred the man to lust. James had cause to believe Kate a brazen woman, one with whom he could have his way without protest.

Kate smiled. "I should like to ride with James."

The hair on the back of Edmund's neck stood on end. "The barrister asked my permission."

Her eyes darkened. "Have you become my—"

"I am your... lord and master." He enunciated each word slowly and clearly.

Kate Beadle's sweet mouth dropped open. A hot crimson flush stained her cheeks. Her eyes grew  wide and flashed like summer lightning. There was no doubt in Edmund's mind. He'd enraged her.

"I engaged you as companion to my aunt," he added hastily. "I cannot release you to ride with Moore on the morrow."

"And I thought you were my friend," she bristled, out of the butler's hearing.

"You have been with me all the day. Aunt Cordelia shall expect you to spend time with her on the morrow"

The butler's stoic expression did not change, but his dark brown eyes darted nervously from Kate to Edmund and back.

"Is that all?" Edmund inquired of his distressed servant.

"A message from Rose Hall," he replied, delivering the folded parchment to the earl.

Edmund tore open the message while Kate purred over the roses. Roses she could easily grow herself, if he were not mistaken.

My Lord Stamford.

The poaching at Rose Hall has increased. I require direction. Mantraps are required at once.

"What is it?" Kate asked.

"It appears that the poaching has grown worse at Rose Hall."

"If you would only open the grounds to the villagers for a short time, the poaching would come to an end," she admonished him softly. "They are hungry."

"Edmund, you have returned,"

He recognized the distinctive voice at once, but because he had been deep in thought while mulling over the poaching dilemma, the sound of it jolted him.

Forcing a smile, Edmund turned to greet her. "Lady Judith!"

Judith Witherspoon descended the stairs in a measured, regal fashion. "I have just enjoyed a visit with your aunt."

Edmund ignored her questioning glance, the icy smile she cast Kate's way.

"And lightened my dear Aunt Cordelia's day, I am confident." He extended his hand to help her down the final step.

A twitch of Lady Judith's scarlet lips passed for a smile before she turned her gaze to Kate. With a plainly critical eye, the woman he would marry scrutinized his former fishing companion.

But what could the lady find to criticize? Dressed in a new over gown the soft shade of pale yellow primroses, with piles of petticoats instead of a farthingale, Kate looked like a splash of sunshine on a rainy afternoon. Quite pleasing in Edmund's opinion.

"Edmund, have you been with Kate?" Lady Judith asked in her treble-pitch voice, a pitch that promised to become annoying over time.

"Aye," he replied with what he hoped was a soothing smile, "we have been attending to rather delicate business."

Lady Judith arched her brow. "What type of delicate business leaves a spot of grease on a woman's gown?"

"Oh, my," said Kate lowering her eyes. Upon finding the spot on her skirt, she rubbed it with her thumb. "Meat pie, I fear. From the fair."

Lady Judith was clearly aghast, "You went to the fair, Edmund?"

" 'Twas necessary to my business," Edmund explained, as in a manner of speaking it was. The fair had restored Kate's spirits.

"The servant class cannot seem to eat with grace. You cannot expect much in their company," she said, staring at the telltale spot on Kate's skirt as if the grease might be a gargoyle.

Kate drew herself up. Although she smiled at Judith, Edmund caught the sharp glitter of anger in her eyes. "But fortunately, you may expect respect and courtesy from the servant class, Lady Judith."

'Tis fear," the lady declared, white-lipped. For some reason that Edmund could not fathom, she'd taken a dislike of Kate.

"Do I appear fearful?" Kate asked coolly.

A fierce surge of pride swept through Edmund. He could not help but admire the way Kate stood up to Lady Judith, as if she had no regard for class distinctions. Which if Edmund did not miss his guess, she did not.

Pride quickly gave way to consternation. The conversation held promise of becoming unpleasant rather rapidly unless he did something.

But providence stepped in and the door knocker sounded.

A fresh sense of dread fell over Edmund. What more could befall him?

A maiden shivered on the stoop. He recognized her from his sister's household. "Are you not Lady Jane's gentlewoman?" he asked, peering over the butler's shoulder.

"Yes, my lord. She bids you come quickly. Young Frances is ill."

* * * *

Lady Jane had not invited Kate to her daughter's bedside. Kate invited herself, persuading Edmund she had learned much about healing in the country and from the nuns who operated the Italian convent where she studied.

"What does the physician say?" Edmund demanded of his sister, not long after he and Kate were shown into a small chamber adjacent to little Frances's bedchamber.

"He fears the pox and recommends bleeding her." Jane's green eyes misted. "Frances is so little, Edmund. I cannot bear such a cure."

"How old is your daughter?" Kate asked.

Lady Chumley glanced at Kate as if belatedly realizing Edmund had not come alone. The stiffly starched ruff of the viscountess's gown forced her chin to a higher angle than normal giving her a severely haughty appearance. She blinked, much like her aunt Cordelia. Jane was undoubtedly disturbed and a bit bewildered by Kate's presence.

"Frances is but five years old and my only child."

"May I see her?" Kate asked softly. 'Twas clear that no matter how pretentious Edmund's sister might be, all arrogance fell away in the face of danger to the daughter she clearly doted upon.

"Do you believe you can heal Frances?" Skepticism laced Jane's voice.

"I cannot be certain without examining her."

"If you are what you claim, why have you not healed my aunt?"

"Pray forgiveness, but Lady Cordelia requires no healing."

"Aunt Cordelia has visited every fortune-teller and physician in London," Edmund added. "She has shown the stamina of a Jersey bull."

"She
has
appeared rather stout," Jane said. Still, she hesitated. "You are seeking a position as a children's nurse, are you not?"

"Aye."

"Mayhap this will test your skill. But be warned. I shall hover over you at all times. Come."

Kate and Edmund followed Jane into her daughter's bedchamber. Green velvet drapes fell from the four corners of the canopy bed, and a gold-threaded tapestry blocked the only window in the chamber. A fire burned in the small fireplace, contributing to the chamber's stifling air.

Frances's nurse, who had been holding a goblet of water to the child's lips, gently settled the little girl back among the down pillows and stepped away.

Jane sat on the bed beside her only child. "Frances, Lord Stamford and Mistress Kate have come to see you."

Frances parted parched lips to smile at Edmund. She possessed the same raven-colored hair and startling green eyes as her uncle, but the resemblance ended there. The little girl's nose turned up daintily, and her cheeks were chubby and flushed.

Edmund bent low to kiss his niece's cheek. "I came as soon as I heard you were unwell, sweeting."

"My brother dotes on Frances," Jane explained unnecessarily.

'Twas plain for Kate to see. She had not thought to be exposed to this side of Edmund's nature. He would be a caring, affectionate father one day.

"Who would not dote on her?" Kate asked as she moved toward the child's bed. "You are a beautiful child, Frances."

As Kate stepped up beside Edmund, Frances eyed her with open suspicion. "Who are you?"

"My name is Mistress Kate Beadle," she said, laying a hand on the child's forehead. "And you are a trifle warm."

The child frowned and pouted simultaneously.

Kate turned to Lady Chumley. "May I look beneath your daughter's shift?"