The Notorious Widow (13 page)

“There are a few who come to mind,” he’d answered without thought, making her laugh. Then he’d had to describe the tulips who strutted about London. Lord Wigby’s spindly legs and long nose demanded comparison to a stork, though his gaudy waistcoats would have been frowned upon by that black-and-white bird. Jeremy Grant’s elaborate plumage rivaled descriptions of the fabled bird of paradise. And Lord Edward’s excessive padding and towering cravats threw his chest out like a pouter pigeon’s. But none were suitable mates for an intelligent lady, particularly an educated one. Grant restricted his thoughts to clothes, hoping to replace Brummell as an arbiter of fashion; Wigby cared only for horses; and Lord Edward considered that dedicated rake Devereaux his mentor.

“Did you remember the bread?” Sarah asked when a tree blocked her view of the geese. “We always feed the cathedral squirrels when we visit Exeter.”

“Right there.” He pointed to the bundle on the opposite seat. Catherine had explained the ritual when he requested permission for Sarah to accompany him. Though feeding the squirrels was not among his usual pastimes, he had agreed. He suspected she’d been trying to discourage this jaunt – which showed how much she feared Jasper.

With justification, he admitted, while a portion of his mind responded to Sarah’s chatter. He risked raising questions by appearing in public with a child, even a precocious charmer. It was not the action of a man seeking political support. Nor did it fit a gentleman’s visit to an old friend. He would have to make a show of seeking Sarah’s help to buy a gift for one of his cousins – Camilla’s youngest was almost tolerable – and hope the explanation would quiet people’s tongues.

In truth, he had invited Sarah to deflect another of Laura’s plots. This time, she had announced that she and her maid would also be in town today, and wouldn’t it be fun to meet for tea at the Golden Stag before returning to Seabrook. The idea of sharing a private parlor with Laura and a maid who could become blind and deaf – assuming she remained in the room at all – curdled his blood, but Laura had dropped the idea when he mentioned Sarah.

Be careful about using an innocent
, warned his conscience, raising a twinge of guilt.

He stifled it. Yes, he was using her, but he really did enjoy her company, and she would come to no harm. He would protect her from Jasper and give her a pleasant outing. Soliciting her advice would explain her presence and preserve the story he’d told Mrs. Telcor. And no one would realize that his primary motive was escaping a determined flirt.

Avoiding Laura grew harder every day, for she was even more forward than he’d feared. She had abandoned her routine, turning up wherever he went – except the nursery, which had become his refuge. The servants must be helping her, for she managed to follow him everywhere.

Like yesterday. He had walked to the village to gather additional information about Jasper. To avoid Laura, he’d told no one of his intentions – which made the trip pointless, he admitted now. Since Catherine had not arranged interviews, the people had seemed sullen and uncooperative. Blake had no way of knowing whether their wariness reflected fear of Jasper, distrust of strangers, or awe of his rank. Not that it mattered. The effect was the same.

As he’d returned to Seabrook, he’d heard a branch snap up ahead. Instinct drove him behind a tree. Thus he’d been hidden when Laura hurried past, sans maid, headed for the village. Cursing her persistence, he’d waited until she was out of sight before fleeing. At least he’d been in the woods, wearing a greatcoat that faded into the shadows.

But something had to be done. Unfortunately, proper manners forbade complaints to William, nor could he confront her directly. Just as Jasper excused blatant attacks as youthful high spirits, Laura could claim that she was merely being a good hostess to her brother’s guest. And he still had no idea whether Catherine and William were actively helping her. Even fate was conspiring against him. Like last night.

When he and William reached the drawing room after dinner, Catherine had just left to settle a dispute in the kitchen. Almost immediately, William was summoned to the stable, where one of the horses had kicked a lad in the head. Thus Blake had been left alone with Laura and Mary. He had pulled Mary from her book, demanding that she join the conversation. And he had escaped to his room the moment he could do so without insult, but it had been another unpleasant evening. Laura had again twisted his departure into concern for her reputation. Her willingness to overlook his patent disinterest bothered him more each day.

His investigation was taking longer than he’d expected, for he kept running into walls. The village had not been his only failure. Ted had learned nothing. The other grooms refused to discuss Jasper, making signs against evil whenever his name was mentioned. It was beginning to look like Jasper was worse than even Catherine knew.

The carriage clattered onto Exeter’s cobbled streets. His original pretext for bringing Sarah was a geography lesson. They would visit the stationer to study the latest map of the world – Mary used rough sketches to illustrate the various countries. And it would allow him to decide whether Cavendish was deliberately defrauding his customers or was unwittingly selling another man’s fakes.

“What is Vicar Sanders doing here?” Sarah’s surprise pulled him away from his thoughts.

“He seems to be arguing over a horse. Who is the man with him?”

“Squire Pott.” The two men were gesticulating wildly as they examined a mare. “Papa would be angry to find him here. He said a vicar’s first duty is to his parishioners, so he helped people every day.”

“Your mother does the same.” He distracted her as the vicar landed a blow to the squire’s belly, making the horse’s ears prick to attention. “And I’ve heard that you assist her. Your father would be proud.”

“I wish I could do more,” she said with a sigh that belied her tender years. “She won’t let me distribute remedies to the sick, but I got to talk to Mr. Matthews. He came back from the army with only one leg. We found him a position as a clerk.”

“Very good, Sarah. Injured soldiers deserve our help.” His upraised hand stopped another protest that she wanted to do more.
“Your
first duty is to learn the lessons Mary and your mother assign.”

“I suppose, but it’s more fun to help others.” The carriage turned into High Street, drawing her eyes back to the window. “Look! There is Mrs. Telcor.” She pointed toward the gossip.

“Manners prohibit pointing,” he reminded her.

Mrs. Telcor frowned when she caught sight of Sarah, probably expecting Catherine to be with them.

“Mama says it’s bad manners to say nasty things about people, too, but Mrs. Telcor does it all the time,” Sarah confided.

“Not everyone follows the rules. And most rules have exceptions. Sometimes people need to know bad things.” Like warning young men about suspected cheats and warning young ladies about predators like Dornbras.

“Then why does no one talk about the bad things Mr. Rankin does?” This time her sigh expressed a seven-year-old’s perplexity.

“If no one talks, how do you know he does anything bad?”

“Papa called him a bad man. Besides, I saw him. He cut the harness on Mr. Howard’s carriage, then claimed Billy Wyath did it. Billy tried to protest, but Mr. Rankin pinched him to make him be quiet. When I told Mama, she just said to stay away from Mr. Rankin and never talk about him.”

“Did you see what Billy did to annoy Rankin?”

She shook her head. “But it must have been bad. They sent him away to school the next day.”

“Not as a punishment,” he said firmly. “Most boys go away to school. It would have been arranged long before.”

“Maybe.” She didn’t believe him.

“Trust me, Sarah. I started school at age eight, as did most of my friends.” He squeezed her hand as the carriage drew to a halt. “I will take care of Mr. Rankin, but your mother is right. He is powerful and can hurt your whole family, so stay away from him.”

He mulled her words while they examined the map Cavendish spread on a table for them. He was amazed at how many people knew Rankin for the tyrant he was. Children, tenants, tradesmen. Yet all were so far beneath Rankin’s consequence, they could never fight back. How many others hugged the pain to themselves, unaware that they were not alone?

* * * *

Catherine had fretted all day about letting Rockhurst take Sarah to Exeter. It wasn’t a matter of trust – she knew so proper a man would do nothing to harm Sarah – but appearing together would link him to her. What would Jasper do?

The most innocuous response would claim that Rockhurst was her latest lover. Jasper might already have done so, for he must know Rockhurst was staying at the manor. Or Jasper might know about Rockhurst’s investigation and try to discredit him. She didn’t want William’s plan to hurt the earl. But her greatest fear was that Jasper would take advantage of Sarah’s public appearance to injure her.

By sunset, she was frantic. When Rockhurst’s carriage headed straight for the stable instead of dropping its passengers at the door, fear sent her flying after it. She needed every bit of control she could muster to greet them normally when they emerged unscathed.

“Mama!” shouted Sarah. “Mr. Cavendish has a huge map that shows every place in the world, and Rockhurst taught me how to read it. Then we fed the squirrels, and had cake and chocolate, and Miss Ander’s dog escaped and rolled in the mud, and—”

“Slow down, sweetheart.” She glanced apologetically at Rockhurst. “I hope she was not too demanding.” She should have sent Annie with them. Few gentlemen cared to have sole charge of children.

“She is a delight. And the dog made quite an impression, sharing its mud coat with a dozen observers, including Mrs. Telcor.”

“Heavens. We will be hearing about this for months.”

“Years.” He chuckled. “She was wearing a new ermine-trimmed cloak, which is now plastered with mud. It will never be the same.”

It was a delicious image, for the woman was her most scathing detractor.

Sarah was still dancing with excitement. “Vicar Sanders was in town, wasting a whole afternoon arguing with Squire Pott about a horse. Papa would have called him a lazy scoundrel for ignoring his duty.”

“It is not your place to judge him, Sarah.” Embarrassment heated her cheeks.

“Papa would,” Sarah insisted. Clearly the excitement of the day had tired her. “Just as he would have said Mr. Cavendish was sly. He whisked a pile of maps out of sight the moment he saw Rockhurst at the door.”

“Sarah—”

“It’s true,” confirmed Rockhurst, interrupting. His eyes forbade her to pursue the subject. “We conducted our lesson, then visited some shops—”

“He bought the most beautiful doll for his cousin, Mama, with real hair even lighter than mine.” That Sarah dared interrupt him proved she had forgotten her manners entirely, but Rockhurst merely smiled. “And we stopped at the confectioner’s for chocolate. And there was a new squirrel today, so dark he almost looks black. He hung back at first, as if he didn’t trust us, but Rockhurst convinced him to take bread right out of his fingers.”

“Quite a talent,” agreed Catherine lightly. Rockhurst’s amusement eased her embarrassment. “So I presume you are too full to want dinner after such a day.”

“I only had three cakes and two cups of chocolate. I’m starving.”

“As is Horace,” said Rockhurst, producing a carrot. “Ted has him unharnessed now, so you can reward him for his fine service.”

Catherine watched Sarah skip off to feed the horse. Hopeless longing cracked her heart. Rockhurst was perfect – perfect gentleman, perfect father, perfect friend. He would make a perfect husband for Laura, but she finally admitted that she wanted him for herself.

Yet that was impossible, she reminded herself, ignoring the muscles rippling across his shoulders as he absently patted his other horse while issuing instructions to his groom. She lacked Laura’s beauty. Harold had been her only suitor eight years ago, and she now carried the additional baggage of age, a child, and a reputation that would bar her from every drawing room in London. Even if Rockhurst vanquished Jasper, her reputation would remain suspect. No lord would risk tarnishing his image with such uncertainty, particularly a paragon like Rockhurst. People would look askance at his children, wondering if his blood truly flowed in their veins.

Besides, Laura needed a husband, and they had all agreed that she could try to attach him. Laura had formed a
tendre
for the dashing earl. His intentions remained unknown – he was avoiding any hint of impropriety lest it worsen the rumors – but Laura was so obviously suited to be a countess, he must be considering her.

So Catherine could never admit her own interest. Not only had she already claimed one husband while Laura remained single, but Laura would see such an alliance as a betrayal.

Laura was not as carefree as she seemed. Fate had handed her several failures, each eroding her confidence further. After their mother’s death ten years ago, Catherine had stepped up to supervise her younger siblings and oversee their flighty governess. Once she’d wed Harold, Laura had tried to take over that job, but at twelve, she had failed. She’d tried again when the governess left four years later, with nominal success. But when tragedy thrust William into the title, he had placed the house and his sisters in Catherine’s hands. Only later did she realize that Laura had seen this demotion as another failure. At an age when her friends had been setting up their nurseries, she’d been thrust back into the schoolroom.

By the time Catherine recognized what was happening, the patterns had been set. Laura flirted outrageously, hoping marriage would restore control over her life. Yet her unrealistic expectations again set her up for failure. She sought a heroic man who would provide excitement and who would love her enough that he would never thrust her aside.

But fictional heroes did not exist. While several gentlemen had made offers, the men Laura sighed over had not. Lately Laura had begun to fear that she could never find happiness. People praised her, but in the end she never satisfied them. Now she had new expectations over Rockhurst. Losing him to her widowed, notorious sister would cause irreparable damage to their relationship.