Lady Catherine's Secret: A Secrets and Seduction book (14 page)

Daniel stiffened. The impudent little minx sitting behind him had scored a point against Catherine.

“Yes, wonderful,” Catherine said dryly. She shot her sister a quelling look and then shook her head in exasperation.

He glanced at Catherine’s profile as she returned her gaze to the road. She really was fetching, as well as kind and intelligent. But his high hopes for the day had plummeted. No matter how much he liked her, Catherine didn’t meet his requirements for a wife. He realized he was expecting her to maintain principles which he’d chosen to ignore, but with her father’s involvement in business, she simply wouldn’t make a suitable wife. He needed someone above reproach. Someone more like Lady Lydia. She might have a sharp tongue, but she was eminently proper.

The decision left him with a hollow sensation. The acute sense of loss surprised him.

“Tell me more about Muggles,” he said, twisting in his saddle to glance back at Sarah. “He seems to be a fine horse.”

Sarah needed no further encouragement and launched into joyful descriptions of Muggles and his entourage at the stables. Lord Whatsis, Princess, and Flitwhitty, the cats who lived in the stables, were introduced at great length.

Daniel glanced at Catherine, and she shot him a look of gratitude that he assumed was for distracting her sister. He smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment.

When they arrived at Kensington House, two women stood waiting for them. One wore a gray dress with a white bib apron, and the other, a plain black dress with a white collar. They must be the housekeeper and governess.

The two women fluttered around them as the group dismounted. A stable boy led Catherine’s and Sarah’s horses back toward the stables, and the two servants helped Sarah hobble up the stairs and into the house. The women made a great fuss, discussing ice packs and poultices and bed rest. Sarah would be well cared for. Perhaps too well. The front door closed behind them.

And then Daniel was alone with Catherine.

“Thank you for your help, Lord Huntley,” she said, staring down at her hands as she plucked at her leather riding gloves.

As she licked her lips nervously, Daniel found he couldn’t look away. The memory of last night, and the feel of her lips against his, suddenly crashed upon him as though it had only happened moments ago.

He could almost hear an echo of the slight moan that had escaped her lips.

“You were our savior today,” she murmured. Her low voice sent a tremor down his spine. When she lifted her chin, the sunlight hit her face, revealing eyes the color of Scotch whiskey. “I really don’t know how we would have managed without your help.”

Daniel forced himself to look away because he found he was entirely too fascinated with her mouth. “Assuredly, Lady Catherine, the pleasure was all mine.” His voice sounded husky to his ears.

Catherine blushed at his choice of words, and he could have kicked himself for being so clumsy. Since he didn’t plan to pursue her, he needed to stop this flirtation.

“Good day, Lord Huntley.” Catherine spun around and hurried into the house.

Despite her abrupt departure, he smiled. He needed to examine the whiskey collection at the Ambridge Club. Which one, exactly, matched her eyes?

Then he shook himself. No, it would be best not to dwell on this young woman. It was a pity, since he found her intriguing. But his children would have a difficult enough time without having
two
parents with entirely unconventional lives.

Perhaps her eyes were the color of Glenfarclas.

14 - Ganesha

During the following week, Catherine grew more and more restless. Mother’s busy schedule of afternoon calls normally provided ample opportunity for Catherine to fence without risk of being detected, but this week had been different. With Mother’s new plan for securing a quick engagement, she’d insisted Catherine accompany her every afternoon. That meant that Catherine had only been able to steal a few scattered moments to practice. Tonight’s weekly excursion to Bernini’s Academy couldn’t come soon enough.

She glanced at the window and grimaced at the thick fog that had descended upon the city. Would it burn off before she needed to leave tonight?

Catherine loved their converted ballroom. When they had first returned from India, Grandfather had allowed Papa to install a couple of cabinets in the seldom-used space, along with a number of large wall mirrors. Everything looked perfectly elegant. No one would guess that the cabinets held fencing supplies.

When Mother was home, Catherine normally resisted succumbing to the temptation the room presented. But today, her restlessness spurred her on, and Catherine decided to risk escaping to the ballroom, if only for a short time. Once inside, she approached one of Papa’s cabinets. An artisan in India had created the pair for him, and the doors bore carvings of Ganesha, who was dancing and holding swords. She couldn’t help smiling when she looked at them. Dancing and fencing... Papa knew her so well. She wondered if they were the only two people who understood the significance of the images. She swung open the elaborately decorated door and selected a foil from within the cabinet.

She tended to avoid looking in the mirrors surrounding the ballroom when she fenced while wearing women’s garb. The sight disoriented her. She found it difficult to reconcile her thoughts and actions as a fencer with the demure young woman who faced her in the reflection. Only when fencing did she willingly allow her fire and passion to emerge.

With a quick flick, she took an “
en garde
” stance. As she worked through a set of footwork exercises, she relaxed, feeling more limber than she had in days. The tension that had grown in the week since her last trip to Bernini’s eased.

The sound of the ballroom door opening startled her. Catherine quickly dropped the tip of her foil to her side, hiding its length in the folds of her bell-shaped skirt. She spun toward the door, but when she saw Charles, she relaxed.

“I received your note,” he said as he shut the door. “Since the door was unlocked, you must have been certain I’d come.” He turned the key to ensure their privacy.

“Not certain, but hopeful.” The exercise had warmed her, dispelling the chill of the day. She flipped her foil back out of her skirts with practiced ease as she rolled her shoulders. She beckoned her brother to join her with a flick of her wrist.

He said nothing, but turned to the fencing armoire. He plucked a helmet from its depths and tossed it to her and then selected a helmet and foil for himself. “Don’t damage my frock coat. I’d rather not change again, and I have an appointment soon.” He dipped low in his stance, preparing to spar.

“You aren’t going to limber up?” Catherine asked.

“You’ve only fenced one night in the past five months, whereas I’ve done so almost daily. This is the best opportunity I’ve had in a long time to beat you.” Charles crossed his sword tip with hers. “
En garde
,” he said, and abruptly lunged, just barely missing a hit.

Was that really what he thought? That she was out of practice? She grinned as she parried and responded with a counterattack that landed a point on his right shoulder. The button on the tip of the foil prevented it from ripping through the fine fabric of his jacket.

“Point,” said Charles, sounding frustrated as he returned to position. “I thought you’d be slower.”

“When we were at the country house, I couldn’t fence, but I was still able to keep up with my training. I’ll try not to ruin your clothing,” she said as she flicked the tip of her foil toward his midriff.

“Don’t rip the fabric. I should’ve known better than to wear it.” He gave a crooked smile and shrugged out of his frock coat. “To think I assumed you were out of condition...” His voice trailed off as he shook his head ruefully.

“You should know I’d never let my skills deteriorate. Fencing is my life. Or rather, fencing
saved
my life.” With a glance at the carved Ganesha on the door, Catherine moved to one of the fencing dummies dangling from the open cabinet. Facing it, she thrust the tip of her foil at the red heart painted on its chest. Her hand was steady, her arm firm, and her aim true. A smile of satisfaction slid across her face as she glanced over her shoulder at her brother.

He draped his dark coat over the back of one of the delicate balloon-backed chairs lining the wall. “Actually, it was more of a hope than an assumption.” He flexed the steel of his foil, bending the end of it with his left hand while holding the grip with his right. “You’re right. I should have known. How did you manage it? After all, we don’t have a private fencing parlor at the country house.”

She gave him an enigmatic smile as she stepped away from the dummy to face him again. “Weren’t you even curious before now?”

Charles stepped into the
en garde
position. “I knew you’d never risk letting Mother discover you holding a foil.”

“Certainly not. She’d be livid with fury if she ever suspected I was still fencing.” Catherine responded to his feint, gently brushing it aside. “While we were in the country, I had to resort to some less traditional methods,” she admitted, keeping a careful eye on her brother as he shifted his weight. She could always predict his attacks by the movement of his feet.

Charles raised his foil, and Catherine beat it to the side, following up with a graceful compound attack, using a combination of feints to keep him retreating. She withdrew for a moment to avoid his parry and then performed another feint, followed quickly by a lunge.

“Walking on the stones along the brook is excellent practice for my footwork.” Catherine demonstrated by taking two quick steps back.

Charles performed a
glise
, sliding the edge of his foil up the edge of Catherine’s, causing the lengths of steel to ring in anger, and closed the distance between them. “That explains why you came home soaked last September, just as I was leaving for Oxford.” He grinned. “Your waterlogged skirts and squishing shoes left a trail of shame through the house.”

She quickly advanced on him and then performed a lunge, but he retreated. Catherine glared at him. “Are you trying to throw off my game? Teasing me won’t work. I only fell into the water that one time, and you just happened to be around to witness my return. It became much more difficult when the stones were slick with snow.” And the ice-cold water had provided a much greater incentive to stay dry. In a swift motion, Catherine performed a
fleche
, leaping off her leading foot and scoring a second point on his chest as she passed him at a run.

He spun around to face her. “Two to nothing. This match is going quickly.”

“Are you intentionally losing? I expect a fair fight!” She stamped her foot on the polished parquet floor of the ballroom. “Don’t throw this match just so you can hurry off to the Ambridge Club.”

“Stop it, Cat. Five months ago you were winning all our matches, so there’s no reason to expect that to change.” He tugged off his face mask and closed the distance between them, anger furrowing his brow. “Why don’t you show a little appreciation? You know I only fence because you and Father love it so.”

She pulled her head back as if struck, a heated retort springing to her lips. But looking into his eyes, she saw the shame and resentment he tried so hard to hide, and her anger evaporated. Of course he was right. She should be more understanding and
much
more appreciative. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing down at the floor. “I shouldn’t have said those things. You’ve always been supportive.”

“Supportive? You wouldn’t be Bernini’s star pupil if not for me. I forged the letter getting you into the academy, I fence with you at home, and I protect you at Bernini’s, all while keeping the others from guessing your secret.” He took a step back and looked to one side, meeting his own gaze in the mirror. He stared for a moment and then let out a great sigh. With a grimace, he shook his head and stepped closer to her, looking into her eyes. “Don’t misunderstand me, Cat, I
am
proud of you. If you were a man, I’m sure you’d come to be known as the best swordsman of your generation.”

She pulled off her mask so she could see his face more clearly. “The best?” She leveled her gaze at Charles, searching in vain for any hint of deceit.

“The best,” he said firmly. “But it’s galling to be beaten again and again by one’s little sister.” He picked up his coat and silently slipped out the door.

At her brother’s words, she felt a twinge of regret for his pain, but then a smile of confidence blossomed on her face as she stared at the closed door. “The best,” she murmured.

She only allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction, however, before she began putting away her fencing gear with swift movements. She didn’t dare stay here any longer. Mother might catch her.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and was brought up short. In her current frame of mind, she expected to see the boy, Alexander Gray, looking back at her, but instead she saw Lady Catherine with triumph shining in her eyes. The juxtaposition of the boy’s expression on the woman’s face was foreign to her. It had been many years since she’d split her life in two. She’d disentangled the threads that made up her being, and seeing them spliced together this way left her momentarily disoriented.