The Elusive Heiress (18 page)

‘Perhaps you had better take a glass of orgeat upstairs for her,’ Kate suggested.

The minute Susan departed, Kate ripped the missive open. It was from Ned, which was no surprise to her as she had recognised his handwriting. The contents were much as she expected too.

‘Damn!’ she muttered, chewing on her lower lip in frustration.

Ned wanted them home.

Kitty has been making herself useful
, he wrote.
She is very handy with her needle and right willing to do anything to pay her way, bar helping out front of the house. She still hides away from strangers, you understand. We all like her, she’s a nice little thing, and I want to see her get her money, but you know how hard it is to find work at this time of year and I’ve heard rumours that there could be a good booking for us coming up. I need you here, Kate, or we’ll lose it for sure!

Kate stared down at his untidy scrawl, her heart sinking. How much longer could she put Kitty’s needs above the company’s?

Or, to put it more honestly perhaps, how much longer could she afford to linger here, indulging a senseless passion for a man who could never be hers?

* * * *

On their return from church the following morning Alicia announced her intention of paying a call upon her former governess.

‘I had promised to visit her shortly before your arrival, Kitty, but we have been so busy! I feel quite guilty at my neglect for she is an old lady now and doesn’t get about much so she looks forward to having company.’

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Kate suggested.

Alicia shook her carefully coiffured head. ‘Lud, child, you would be sadly bored! No, it is kind of you to offer, but I think you would do better to conserve your energies for this afternoon.’

She picked up her reticule and prepared to leave.

‘While I am gone perhaps you might like to give some thought to your costume for Lord Redesmere’s forthcoming ball? You must try to come to a decision soon, my love, for I dare say every single modiste in Chester will be swamped with orders!’

This parting shot struck gloom into Kate’s soul. To allay her despondency, she went to fetch her sketch pad. She had explained her hesitation in ordering a costume by pretending she didn’t know what character to go as, but, in truth, she didn’t know if she would still be in Chester when the fancy-dress ball in honour of the Lattimers took place.

Assuming she was able to attend, she certainly couldn’t afford to pay Celestine to create a costume for her. She had already spent too much at the dressmakers and the thought of trading further upon Alicia’s generosity was abhorrent. She would have to design something for herself and make it up with the help of Mary’s clever fingers.

Taking up a position near one of the long windows in the drawing room, a large elegant apartment which caught the best of the light, Kate was intent upon sketching several ideas which had occurred to her for an inexpensive costume when George, Lady Edgeworth’s young footman, came in to tell her that she had a visitor.

For one hopeful moment, Kate wondered if Randal had come to call on her, but it was Alan Hilton who was announced.

‘My dear sir, do come in,’ Kate invited, abandoning her drawing and rising to her feet at his entrance.

Lady Edgeworth had indulged her taste for ornate furniture by ordering a pair of crocodile-footed couches, upholstered in a green brocade which matched the silk-panelled walls. They stood facing each other in the middle of the room and Kate sat down on one of them and waved Mr Hilton towards the other.

‘Would you care for some refreshment, sir?’ she asked, agog with curiosity, but striving to hide it.

The lawyer, who was dressed with conventional neatness in a suit of black broadcloth and his usual wig, looked extremely hot and accepted her offer with grateful alacrity.

They exchanged polite small talk while Kate rang for a jug of cooling lemonade, which was swiftly brought and served.

When he had slaked his thirst and they were alone once more Mr Hilton turned to the matter which had brought him to Abbey Square.

‘I beg your pardon for disturbing you on a Sunday, Miss Nixon, but I have some important news for you,’ he said in his precise manner.

‘About Mr Gerald Sullivan?’ Kate gazed at him expectantly.

‘Quite so. I received an answer from him yesterday evening. He declines to come to Chester, I’m afraid.’

Kate folded her hands in her lap in a composed gesture and strove to conceal her glee. ‘Did he give any reason for refusing?’

‘He states that his present health will not permit him to make the journey.’

‘Do you believe him?’ Kate asked boldly.

The lawyer cleared his throat. ‘I think it is Lord Redesmere who must judge the matter,’ he murmured.

Kate smiled sweetly and, putting on her most innocent air, gently pressed him further.

‘In my opinion, Miss Nixon, his refusal does not lend credence to his story.’ Succumbing to her charm, her visitor confessed his doubts. ‘Given the seriousness of his allegation, I would have expected him to make every effort to prove the veracity of his claim.’

He didn’t believe Gerald’s excuse! Kate’s almond-shaped eyes lit with triumph and it was all she could do to sit calmly while the lawyer continued to expound upon his theory.

‘Would you care for some more lemonade, sir?’ she asked at length when he ground to a halt.

‘No, I thank you.’ Mr Hilton stood up. ‘Knowing you must be anxious, I wanted to acquaint you with the latest news, but now I will leave you to enjoy the rest of the Sabbath in peace.’

‘Does Lord Redesmere know about this refusal?’ Kate asked him as she too rose to her feet.

‘I sent one of my clerks round to Stanley Place with a note for him last night.’

‘Well, thank you for coming in person, sir. It was kind of you to take so much trouble.’

Mr Hilton took the hand she extended to him and shook it warmly. ‘Not at all, my dear young lady,’ he said, making her a creditable bow.

He declined her offer to show him out and Kate returned to her seat by the window. Picking up her sketch pad she sat down, but her mind was not on her drawing.

There had been no real need for Hilton to give up his day of rest and call on her in person. A letter would have done as well. And come to think on it, there had been a different note in his voice as he had said farewell, a much warmer, much more respectful note.

Pondering the change in his manner, Kate began to smile.

* * * *

Early in their acquaintance Randal had mentioned to Kate that Stanley Place had been erected almost thirty years ago and that his uncle had purchased one of the new houses there with his patrimony on the death of his father.

‘It is a good address, although the house itself isn’t as grand as the Nixon mansion in Vicar’s Lane,’ he had added in so bland a tone Kate hadn’t been sure whether he was baiting her or not.

Kate stared up at the impressive classical facade of Mr Godwin Crawford’s house and gulped.

What must Kitty’s inheritance be like!

The warmth of Godwin’s greeting soon banished this flicker of trepidation.

‘‘Pon rep, Miss Kitty,’ he exclaimed, giving her an approving glance. ‘You look as cool as a mermaid in that rig. Don’t she, nevvy?’

Lord Redesmere was more than happy to endorse this statement and revelling in the admiration in his eyes, Kate was glad she had taken the trouble to smarten up a pretty but faded pale blue muslin, donated by Alicia for the occasion to save her good clothes from being spoilt. Mary had helped her create the sleeveless over tunic of filmy aquamarine
mousseline de soie
from a remnant bought cheaply, but to her friend’s consternation, Kate had insisted on leaving off both corset and drawers.

A zona to support her bosom, silk stockings, a pair of thin sandals and a wide-brimmed straw sunhat trimmed in the same material as her tunic completed Kate’s summery ensemble and she felt quite comfortable even when they all repaired into the heat of the sunlit garden.

It was, she decided, a very attractive garden. Although fairly small, at least by the standards of the gentry, it was well laid out with lawns, shrubs and trees. Even with thirty-odd guests milling around, its clever design prevented it from feeling cramped.

‘Come and get your baskets everyone,’ Godwin called out jovially.

He began to hand out the shallow straw containers with the help of a servant. ‘Remember there is a prize for the lady who collects the most strawberries.’

With much laughter his guests dispersed, heading for the strawberry beds, which were scattered throughout the garden.

‘A penny for them.’

Kate looked up to see Lord Redesmere watching her.

‘You aren’t picking fruit,’ she accused indignantly, noting his empty hands.

‘Neither were you,’ he countered with a smile.

Kate admitted it. ‘I was daydreaming,’ she confessed.

‘About what Gerald’s dereliction of duty means for you,’ Randal continued for her.

‘Perhaps.’ Kate’s generous mouth curved upwards in an involuntary smile.

A sharp stab of desire lanced through Randal. For an instant all he wanted in the world was to kiss those red, parted lips.

Reading his expression, Kate took a hasty step back, but Randal had already regained control of himself.

‘Careful!’ he warned. ‘You’ll snag your dress.’

Kate took a deep breath. Suddenly the warm air, scented by strawberries and gillyflowers, seemed stifling!

‘Would you like me to fetch you a cold drink?’

‘No…no, I’m all right.’ Kate didn’t want him to go. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, but she wasn’t quite that mad…yet!

Tearing her gaze from his tall virile form she pretended an interest in the strawberries in her basket.

‘Actually, if you must know, I was merely thinking how much luckier we ladies are than you gentlemen,’ she fibbed. ‘You all look so hot in those tight coats and boots.’

Randal laughed. He didn’t believe her for a moment, but he admired her pluck! ‘Granted you have the advantage of me, Miss Nixon.’

Kate peeped at him through her long eyelashes. Was it her imagination or was there a slight edge to his tone? They had been getting on so well she had allowed herself to forget what Gerald’s refusal to identify her must mean to him.

Not daring to ask him exactly what he meant, she tried to divert the conversation into safer channels. ‘People seem to be drifting back towards the house. Shall we join them them?’

‘Running away again, Katharine?’

Kate lifted her brows delicately. ‘Why should I feel the need to run from you, my lord?’ she countered, throwing his challenge back at him.

Randal made her an exquisite bow. ‘I’m delighted to hear that you trust me.’

This time there was no mistaking the mockery in his deep voice, but Kate had the strangest feeling it was directed at himself.

Beneath his banter she sensed the tension in him. His expression was unfathomable and yet she could have sworn there was some sort of conflict within him, something pulling him in opposing directions.

‘Do you think I have collected enough strawberries to win a prize?’ she asked cheerfully, exhibiting her meagre efforts in the hope that he would laugh and his odd mood would be broken.

To her surprise he didn’t answer, but turned and strode away. Stooping, he picked up the basket he had abandoned earlier in the shade of a beech tree and came back to her with it. Gently tipping its heavy contents into her own basket, he said flatly, ‘Now you have.’

Kate’s black Egyptian eyes widened. ‘But that’s cheating!’ she gasped. ‘I can’t take yours. I haven’t earned them.’

‘Then pay me for them.’ Calmly Randal removed the basket from her grasp and set it down on the ground.

Kate stared up into his lean bronzed face and felt her heart thud against her breastbone. ‘I…I don’t think that’s a good idea—’

Ignoring her totally insincere protest, Randal drew her into his arms. ‘There’s no one to see, if that’s what is worrying you,’ he said softly, a faint note of amusement entering his deep voice.

Kate was feeling much too overwhelmed by the sensations ignited by being so close to him to take exception to this provocative remark. She could feel his body heat and the sharp fresh lemon scent of his cologne suddenly filled her nostrils, banishing the hitherto pervasive aroma of strawberries.

Obeying the urging of primitive instinct, she wound her arms around his neck, the dark blue superfine cloth which stretched smoothly across his shoulders rasping gently against her bare skin. Gazing into his hot, bright eyes, she ran her fingertips upwards to ruffle the short hair edging his nape and felt him shudder.

‘What is your price, my lord?’ she asked in a throaty little whisper she barely recognised as her own voice.

‘One kiss,’ Randal answered and took it.

Kate closed her eyes and surrendered to his embrace.

His lips were warm. They caressed hers with thrilling expertise, making the blood sing in her veins. Violent excitement flowered in the pit of her stomach, tensing her muscles and turning her giddy.

Feeling her melt against him, Randal tightened his arms around her slim waist and deepened the kiss. Her soft lips parted beneath his, admitting his tongue into the intimacy of her mouth. She tasted of strawberries.

The touch of his tongue against her own aroused a wild longing in Kate. She clutched at his broad shoulders, pressing herself closer, wanting to feel his strong body with every inch of her own.

Utterly intoxicated by the exquisite pleasure pulsating in dizzying waves along her nerves, she felt devastated when he finally broke off the kiss and lifted his blond head.

Shaken to his soul, Randal stared deep into the midnight depths of her eyes. God, but he had never imagined such passion could be ignited by a single kiss!

‘Consider the debt paid, little cousin.’ Releasing her as he spoke, he smiled lightly as he forced the words out, determined not to reveal his feelings.

He stepped away from her and Kate swallowed hard, her thoughts whirling as she struggled to find a reply which would hide her utter confusion.