The Honorable Heir (14 page)

“No, he’s a Wolfe with no Baston-Ward connections. But I’m seeking all avenues.”

Her face lit, her sparkling dark eyes upon him. “Does that mean I am no longer guilty?”

“It does. Now I just want to call on you because I quite want to be around you.” He drew her hand to his lips. “May I?”

She drew her hand free. “Georgette.”

“I keep trying to talk to her about it, but she stops me every time, as though if I don’t say it, it won’t be true.”

“But it could make trouble if she’s humiliated again.”

“If she is, then it’s of her making, not yours.”

She released his hand and rose to pace the room. “I’d like you to call on me. But I’m not ready to marry another English heir, especially one Georgette has set her heart upon.”

“Is it her heart or her pride?”

She stopped and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “I’m afraid the latter. But can I hurt her pride again and cause another rift amongst the older ladies, among my mother’s friends?”

“Are you responsible for their behavior?” Tristram stood and fixed her with a scowl, his body tense with frustration.

She glared back. “Are you responsible for finding the jewels because your father can’t be proud of the man you are without you performing some feat?”

“A great deal of money depends on me succeeding.”

“Which is something else. How dare he hurt others just to make you prove something that’s really none of your concern. This should be managed by proper investigators. Why aren’t they on to the jewel thief?”

“To keep it out of public notice.”

“Well, if you don’t succeed, the public will notice eventually.”

“I have to succeed, Catherine. This has gone well beyond me finding a jewel thief. This pursuit could cost me my life.”

“You are right in that.” Her lower lip quivered. “But I cannot allow you to pay me particular attention, unless Georgette realizes what she’s doing.”

“And I won’t force my presence upon you.” He gazed at her, his eyes burning, his heart aching, knowing he loved her to distraction. “I must leave here in three weeks to get home by my father’s deadline.” He bowed.

“I am going back to the Selkirks to talk to Georgette about my feelings—my lack of feelings—toward her. This cannot continue if I may have a future with you.” He gazed at her, his heart about to burst as he awaited a response from Catherine.

She gave him her calm, cool look. “We’ll talk about the future when the present is settled.”

Frustrated, amused, he held her gaze. “Then I have great motivation to succeed.”

* * *

As though she sensed his greater determination, Georgette avoided him as much as possible. Indeed, she arranged for him to be out of the house—urging Pierce to take Tristram shooting or ice fishing with the men. Why anyone would voluntarily freeze for fish one could well afford to purchase, Tristram didn’t know, but Pierce and his cronies seemed to consider it a feat of manly virtue to withstand the cold for what amounted to only enough fish for hors d’oeuvres at a small gathering had they even kept them.

Tristram rather enjoyed these outdoor activities with other gentlemen. He felt safe from the threatening behavior of others in their company. At the same time, he longed to be with Catherine and ached for just half an hour alone with Georgette. He must seize an opportunity, whether she wished for it or not, and speak with Georgette before he returned to England three days before Christmas.

He thought his opportunity arrived one morning in mid December. Snow had fallen the previous day and most of the night, but the day broke with brilliant sunlight. Ambrose and Florian were discussing calling on Estelle to practice one of her new compositions when Georgette walked into the parlor.

She wore a pink wool suit and creamy lace. She met his gaze and smiled, her eyes soft and warm. “You don’t want to hear one of Estelle’s compositions, do you, Tristram? It’s such a pretty day, I thought we could try the toboggan run at the racket club.”

“I can think of few things I’d like more.” Beyond seeing Catherine, holding her hands in his, touching her porcelain cheek...

Florian cast him a sympathetic glance, then turned to Georgette. “Come listen to Estelle’s composition, and then we’ll all go over to the racket club. The ice is thick enough for skating.”

“If you like, I’ll go.” Tristram didn’t want to seem too eager.

For nearly two weeks, he had honored Catherine’s wishes and hadn’t called on her. His heart had to be satisfied with brief greetings at social gatherings they both attended, though she didn’t seem to attend many. Much of the past two weeks, Catherine was in the city working on charitable events and shopping with her mother and sister, Tristram learned from Florian, who moped around without Estelle near.

Tristram envied the younger man. If he were free he could walk away from his father’s edict and offer for Catherine. Of course, that might be considered too much of the easy road to solving his difficulties with his father.

Riding in the Selkirks’ automobile along the well-groomed street leading past houses that offered nothing less than ultimate comfort, Tristram realized that he had lived his life like that road. He took the path into the army because it was easier than fighting with his father about another course of action. He disobeyed orders because that was easier than trying to convince his superiors what they were doing hurt England’s cause in the end. Then he accepted his father’s ultimatum because it was easier than staying home. Believing Catherine was the jewel thief was easier than trying to find the real culprit. Now staying away from Catherine was easier than forcing a confrontation with Georgette.

How can I call myself a man of God willing to serve Him if I am unwilling to take risks He might demand of me?

He turned to Pierce, who was driving. “Let me out. I want to walk.”

“We’ll be there in two minutes.” Pierce pointed out the obvious, but pulled on the brake.

“And I’ll see you in ten.”

“But, Tristram,” Georgette called from the rumble seat, “walking through this snow is so difficult.”

“I know.” Tristram waved and set off.

Belching and chugging, the auto pulled away, Georgette waving.

“What would You have me do, Lord?” He asked the question aloud.

No specific answer came to him. When he arrived at Lake House, his trousers sodden, the VanDorns’ butler greeted him with considerably more courtesy than the previous visit, and led him straight to the drawing room fire. And there sat Catherine dispensing hot chocolate. She glanced up, saw him approaching her and dropped a china cup onto the hearth. It shattered into a hundred pieces, and Tristram’s heart sang.

“I didn’t know you were coming.” She stooped to gather up the broken china.

“I almost didn’t.” He bent to help her. “But they mentioned skating, and you promised to show me what a skating chair is.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Her gaze flicked to the music room, where she could see Georgette through the doorway trying her hand at Estelle’s banjo. “Georgette...?”

“No, I’ve not spoken to her yet. I—” He looked into Catherine’s eyes. “I’m a coward. All my life—”

“Tristram.” Georgette’s voice rang out from the music room doorway. “I’m happy to see you arrived safely. Are you ready to push me in a skating chair?”

“I think that sounds—” He stopped himself. “I’m afraid—” From the corner of his eye, he caught Catherine’s quick shake of her head. “Catherine already promised to show me how the skating chairs work.”

“I see.” Georgette’s eyes went as wintry cold as the December sky. “Well, I think it inappropriate for such a recent widow to do something as frivolous as skate.”

Tristram’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to be understanding about his feelings for Catherine. The genteel feuding between the families would start again unless he figured out what to do.

“She’s right.” Catherine rose, her hands full of china shards. “I should stay here and help Mama with Christmas—”

Tristram turned to her. “Is breaking promises easier than keeping them?”

“That depends on to whom one makes the promise.” She glanced toward Georgette, who was watching them closely.

Breaking promises was rarely easier than keeping them. He had made a promise to her. He had made one to his father. Most of all, he had made a promise to his heavenly Father to serve him. But he didn’t want to serve the Lord alone. He wanted Catherine at his side, the stubborn, loyal love.

“Does your sister not need a chaperone?” he asked Catherine.

“I do.” Estelle tucked one hand beneath Georgette’s elbow. “As is, we have too many gentlemen.”

Georgette looked away from Tristram and Catherine, and gave Estelle a smile. “Of course. How silly of me. We’ll find more for our party, if they’re not already there.”

One phone call by Estelle ensured that the racket club teemed with young people by the time the Selkirk and VanDorn parties arrived. Ladies and gentlemen alike donned black skates and headed to the lake. Someone found Tristram a pair that fit and he donned them with considerable doubt.

“I haven’t been on ice since I was a schoolboy. We don’t get weather cold enough to freeze water thick enough most of the time.”

“But all I remember is freezing cold weather.” Catherine shivered. “Living in Bisterne was like having an icehouse for a home.”

“And not something you wish to repeat?” Georgette bent to strap on her own skates. “Last one on the ice is a rotten egg.” She headed toward the ice.

“No takers, Georgie. We can’t compete with you.” Catherine glanced at Tristram without looking at him directly. “She has always been the fastest. That’s why we let her push the skating chairs instead of riding in one like the rest of us ladies do.”

“And where are these famed chairs?”

“On the lake.” Georgette set out across the snowy ground, as though walking in skates were as easy as walking in flat shoes. Catherine followed not as fast, but just as gracefully as Georgette. Tristram moved more slowly, testing his balance on the skates. He hadn’t been on blades for at least twelve years, and the iron runners didn’t afford much support to someone unaccustomed to the sport, especially with the distraction of Catherine ahead of him. He wouldn’t even think about how he’d fare on slippery ice.

Georgette reached the edge of the lake, stepped onto the frozen surface and glided off like a swan, turning slowly, then spinning and leaping, creating a ballet on ice.

“She’s beautiful,” Catherine said.

“She is lovely.” Tristram rested his gloved hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “But she is rather a schemer, which somewhat diminishes her attractions.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“She won’t give me an opportunity to talk to her alone.”

“She knows you won’t marry her. I saw it in her eyes back at Lake House.” Catherine looked up at him through tears sparkling on her lashes. “I’ve solved nothing in coming home.”

“You’ve done nothing wrong. I was pursuing you, not the other way around.”

“But—”

He touched one finger to her lips. “Now, where are the chairs you were going to show me?” He glanced around and saw two objects that resembled dining room chairs with arms and, on the bottom, runners attached from front legs to back on either side.

Florian, Estelle and Ambrose joined them.

“What do you do with a contraption like that?” Ambrose asked.

“We make teams and have races.” Catherine bit her lip. “Perhaps you should go to Georgette’s team, Tristram. It looks like groups are forming.”

Tristram glanced toward where Georgette was forming two lines a few yards away at the edge of the ice, then shook his head. “I’m staying on whatever team you choose.” He headed for the chairs.

“I’m going to Georgie’s team,” Estelle said over her shoulder. “I want to win, and Georgette’s teams always win.”

“So do I.” Florian sailed off after her.

“I think those two are up to something,” Ambrose said.

Catherine shrugged. “As long as they are here in our sight, it can’t be too bad. Will you partner me, Ambrose?”

“No, thank you.” He scanned the line and headed for a pretty girl Tristram had often seen Catherine’s brother, Paul, wooing.

No matter, Ambrose wouldn’t get any further with her than he had with the heiress in New York. “You’ve been thwarted in your attempt to keep me away.” Tristram tucked his hand beneath Catherine’s elbow. “And Florian and Estelle have evened the numbers on the other team.”

“You should trade with Florian for the sake of peace.”

“Too late.”

Indeed, the game was on. The first two pairs arranged themselves at the edge of a marker made with someone’s muffler. One of the men counted down to go, and the skaters shot out across the ice. They looked rather absurd with the lady’s skirts flowing back along the legs of the chair, even the chair itself sailing across the ice like a bath chair on a boardwalk. Most of the observers leaped up and down cheering on their teammates. They laughed when one couple in the second run got skates, chair legs and a torn flounce on the lady’s gown tangled and the two of them ended up sitting in the chair together. Whoops and hollers and cries to hurry rang through the crystal, bright air. The other team became a full length ahead. Ambrose, surprisingly swift, helped make up some of the slack with his lightweight companion, also graceful and swift on her skates.

And then Tristram and Catherine’s turn came.

Catherine settled into the chair and Tristram took his place behind, glad of the chair’s support. He glanced at Georgette. Poised on her toes in the event her team needed her to go again, she frowned in his and Catherine’s direction, clearly displeased by their pairing. He smiled and returned his attention to Catherine. “Ready?”

“I’m ready.” She gripped the arms. “It’s the return journey that worries me. I haven’t skated in five years.”

“It’s been longer for me.”

But they were off, too slow at first to please their teammates, then gathering speed as he gained some confidence. They moved faster and faster, the cries of their team roaring behind them. Only a yard or two behind the other team, they reached the second muffler line marker. Catherine tried to stand. Her right foot shot out ahead of her. She grabbed the chair arm for support. With the rasp of steel on ice, the chair shot backward, knocking Tristram to the ice on one side and tossing Catherine to her knees on the other.