The Roguish Miss Penn (12 page)

It had taken years to persuade Mrs. Moore to call her Katherine after being Kitty for so long. To be called Miss Penn was unthinkable.

Katherine accepted the crisp cream note, folded in thirds and sealed as though it were a letter going to China. The housekeeper was correct. As the good lady had not lingered to catch the news, although most likely she wanted to know, Katherine did not inform her she was right.

Cousin Sophia differed. “Well, spit it out, girl.”

“We are all invited to Fairfax Hall for dinner tomorrow.” The two women exchanged dismayed looks. “Think you that Papa will accept?”

Unvoiced was Katherine’s concern. What if he did?

Chapter 7

There was no one in the Penn house more surprised than Katherine when her father had accepted the invitation from Fairfax Hall. She had been certain that he would toss it in the fire and utter a few pithy words about those in high places who tried to impress their opinions on others.

He had glanced at it, grunted, then stared at his daughter sitting in her chair in the breakfast room, a cautious expression on her face. “You enjoyed your time there, did you not?” he inquired.

Katherine had replied, “Yes, Papa. Mrs. Cheney is all that is kind and dear.” Katherine had not seen fit to comment on his odious lordship.

“Hm,” he had replied while tapping the stiff cream paper against the palm of his hand, watching the ebb and flow of color in his daughter’s face. “I should like to see what Mrs. Cheney has to say for herself, I believe.”

Katherine knew that she must have sat there looking for all the world like a fish out of water. Never had she expected her father to be so reasonable. Unless he intended to berate Mrs. Cheney for her words. No, Katherine decided, her father’s manners forbade such behavior.

And now the three of them, for Teddy had still not returned from Norwich, sat in the elegant carriage sent from the hall, driving rapidly toward what Katherine fervently hoped would be a pleasant dinner party.

“Thank goodness we managed to escape the Bonners this evening,” Cousin Sophia declared in a fervent voice.

“I hope you shall not be disappointed. Since Mrs. Cheney thought Melly to be a peagoose, I doubt we shall be afflicted with their company,” Katherine replied, a smile lighting her eyes.

“Mrs. Cheney has no opinion of Amelia Bonner? Perhaps she has more sense that I thought,” Julian Penn reflected quietly from his corner of the carriage just as they drew up before the house. He brushed down his best jacket of dull blue cloth with modest brass buttons before getting out.

They were ushered into the house with all due ceremony. Kendall was the London butler to perfection, causing even Mr. Penn to cast an approving eye on him.

“I am so pleased you could join us this evening. Time in the country is enlivened by good company,” Mrs. Cheney said in her charming way.

“The pleasure is ours, good lady,” responded Mr. Penn politely, quite obviously studying his hostess while maintaining a wary regard. Yet he seemed ready and willing to make his effort to reach an understanding.

Katherine hoped that he would not put Gisela out of countenance with his fixed regard.

“It pleases me that you suffered no ill from your visit with us the other day,” Lord Ramsey said as he turned to greet Katherine after making her father welcome.

“I warmed myself by the fire as bid, and Cousin Sophia saw that I swallowed a tisane she uses for incipient colds. It proved most beneficial.” Katherine eyed him with care, wondering whether she would be in charity with him, come the end of the evening.

They strolled along to the drawing room, a place Katherine had heretofore not seen. Cousin Sophia issued a faint gasp as they entered, for the room was indeed beautiful. Yellow silk-hung walls reflected the light from the many candles and torcheres. The exquisite pale aquamarine of the ceiling echoed the rich velvet that covered the chairs and settees with a French touch of opulence. Katherine particularly liked the delightful painting in the arch above the chimneypiece. The theme undoubtedly had something to do with music, but the gamboling cherubs really gave no clue. However, it charmed her, and her face lit up with a winsome grin.

She glanced at Lord Ramsey, who had suddenly turned up at her elbow, and said, “Very captivating, my lord.”

“I thought you might appreciate the carved swags of foliage and flowers about the room, but do you find that sentimental piece appealing? My father got a bit carried away when he ordered the renovation of the room.” His eyes teased her, and Katherine wondered why she always had this ridiculous sense of floating when he drew near her.

He had moved closer to her while he spoke and she now felt difficulty in breathing. She tried to recall that she wished Lord Ramsey to procure a good living for Mr. Weekes, but somehow her intentions slid from her mind.

“Come along with me for a moment.” He glanced at the others. “I wish to discuss a few things with you that are best kept just to us.”

A sense of doom threatened Katherine. He would now tell her that he intended to withdraw his support. She just knew it. “Of course,” she quietly agreed.

Cousin Sophia nodded when informed of Lord Ramsey’s desire to show Katherine some drawings in his book room.

Walking swiftly at his side through a room done mostly in red, then across a long room that stretched from the front to the back of the house that Katherine assumed to be the gallery, they entered a charming room with masses and masses of books. She guessed it provided extra shelving for an overflow of books from the library, for a glimpse of that room revealed its shelves to be full. Small wonder her father acted like a child in a toy shop when offered the opportunity to peruse the contents of the library at Fairfax Hall.

“I could have brought these out, but I suspected we had best conceal this project from your father for as long as possible.” He pulled a sheaf of drawings from a folder on a small desk near the fireplace. One by one he spilled them out on the mahogany surface of the table in the center of the room, revealing a brilliant collection of scenes, all of which she recognized as background for her play. He picked up a branch of candles, setting it on the table to provide better light for her.

Choosing the first sketch, she studied it, then looked up at Lord Ramsey, incredulity shining from her eyes. “How did you know this is precisely what I had in mind for the first scene? This is definitely the woods where Belinda is abducted.” She quickly pulled the next watercolor from the pile, breathing in with pleasure as she examined it. “Ah, the castle. One can almost smell that dank, fetid air, feel the cold stone walls. And the sensation of impending doom clearly hangs over the setting.”

Lord Ramsey crossed his arms over his chest, his attitude one of lordly expectancy.

At the next drawing she frowned. “I had not thought the bedroom in the castle to be quite so sumptuous. Do you really believe he would indulge himself so?”

“He is a hedonist, is he not? A pursuer of happiness for himself, if not for others? A man devoted to pleasure would enjoy such a room, I believe.”

Katherine’s gaze was caught in his gray eyes for a few moments, then she forcibly returned her attention to the drawing in her hands, hands that trembled ever so slightly. Did Lord Ramsey revel in the quest of pleasure? That notion brought all manner of forbidden thoughts to mind. “You seem to know a great deal about a man in such circumstances. I had thought billowing silks and velvet cushions more in line with a seraglio, based on what I have read.”

“I was unaware anything of that nature would be included in the reading list for a professor of divinity’s daughter.” An insinuation lurked in his voice that she could not like in the least, for it sounded amused, in a superior persuasion, of course.

Katherine refused to rise to his bait. For one thing, she had no intention of revealing her reading list to him or anyone else. It would be shocking and proclaim her a bluestocking of the worst sort. “You must admit, this is not what might be expected in a remote castle where a maiden has been abducted. Her hero will have a time rescuing her as it is.”  Katherine studied the lavish bedroom, wondering what it might cost to produce. That a woman might not be spending time in here was debatable, as she would be captive and resistant.

“You feel that a woman would be attracted to such an exotic surrounding? That she might feel reluctance at leaving this?”

Since there was no way that Katherine might safely answer this improper question, she chose a different direction for her questioning. “How difficult will these be to construct?” She tapped her finger on the harem-like bedroom of the wicked count.

“You approve of them, then? I thought the ladies in the audience might find them attractive in a naughty way.” His voice revealed a trace of lingering amusement mixed with anticipation.

It would have been cruel to disappoint him after such painstaking work on behalf of the play. And his investment, she reminded herself at once. “They are splendid. You must know how very good they are. Did you do them, or did you have a professional draw them up for you? They would be shockingly expensive to create, I fear.” Regarding what ladies might think, she prudently remained silent.

“No problem, my dear girl. I dabble a bit in drawing and the like. As to construction, I shall show you what I’ve devised after dinner.”

With that tantalizing bit of information Katherine had to be content. They returned to the drawing room as Kendall entered to inform them that dinner was served. No questions as to where they had been were forthcoming in the ensuing stir as the others rose, moving toward the door.

Lord Ramsey escorted Cousin Sophia and Katherine while Mr. Penn offered his arm to Mrs. Cheney.

Katherine glanced back to take note of the wary looks exchanged between the two. If matters might be patched up there, the subterfuge necessary in her frequent travels to Fairfax Hall would be greatly reduced. She felt it quite necessary to rehearse with Ninian Denham. She was not sure if Lord Ramsey would continue to uphold this portion of their agreement.

The atmosphere in the dining room was congenial. Although vast in size, there was a charm and warmth about it. What seemed like yards of polished mahogany was dotted with place settings, glittering crystal candelabra, and masses of late-summer flowers in low arrangements to facilitate conversation. Katherine observed the viscount’s coronet and initials incorporated in the plasterwork on the ceiling, the details highlighted by the abundance of candles in the wall sconces. Had he ordered this, or his father before him? She knew the Earl of Fairfax preferred to live in his principal residence south of London. It was an unexpected vanity.

Just how much did this touch of pride reflect the taste of the man at her side? Katherine tried to ascertain something more of his nature from darted glances during the meal.

To her right Katherine could hear polite conversation flowing unabated between Mrs. Cheney and Mr. Penn. It was undoubtedly reserved and did not seem to offer a great deal of hope, yet Katherine knew that Gisela intended to make her peace. Katherine prayed it might be achieved, and soon. However, the very presence of her father at this table was a step in the right direction.

The meal was well prepared and elegantly served, yet she found it not ostentatious, such as one might have found at the table of a man bent on impressing. Of course, Gisela most likely had the arranging of the dinner, yet it said well for both of them and Katherine found her estimation of them increased.

Rather than return to the elegant drawing room, they strolled to a small, more intimate drawing room near the entry to the house. Katherine walked over to admire the painting above the mantel, which turned out to be a very pretty Gainsborough of a young woman.

“My aunt. Rather charming, is she not?” Lord Ramsey announced in a clear voice that anyone in the room might hear. In a soft aside, he added, “Shortly we shall leave the room so that I may show you what I have done.”

Surprised at this touch of mystery and intrigue, Katherine gave him a look and a discreet nod.

Across the room, Mrs. Cheney sat facing Mr. Penn with a determined look on her face. Katherine tried not to be obvious in her efforts to overhear what was being said. She so hoped all would go well.

“I hope you will forgive my hasty tongue this past Sunday,” Mrs. Cheney said in her clear, pleasant voice. “It was unforgivable of me to presume to take you to task in what is, after all, your calling. You must think me exceedingly forward.”

Mr. Penn studied his folded hands, which rested on his lap, then looked at the earnest and attractive woman who sat comfortably close. His expression was troubled, his voice low as he spoke. “No, you had the right of it, my good lady. Even my daughter could not deny I was a prosy old bore—put Cousin Sophia and who knows how many others to sleep. One forgets, you know. I am so far removed from the everyday world that it is easy to lose sight of the needful.”

Mrs. Cheney waited a moment, as though hoping he might be more forthcoming. He wasn’t. As a forgiveness, it lacked a certain something, but it was far better than nothing and certainly more acceptable than hostility.

“My brother expressed his hopes that you might continue to use his library. He is making use of the book room at present. I believe he intends to do a history of the family, such as it is . . . She gave him a tentative smile and seemed a bit anxious.

“A worthy cause, madam.” Mr. Penn had a kindly yet thoughtful expression on his face. It surely revealed no antipathy for the Fairfax family. Indeed, it could be viewed as almost encouraging.

Mrs. Cheney relaxed a trifle, then turned to Katherine. “Play something for us, will you?”

The pianoforte had been moved from the saloon. Katherine eyed it with misgivings. She had no intention of repeating her previous faux pas. She considered it an error of taste to indulge oneself in the wild music she adored. Rather she would play the acceptable. Nodding obediently, she crossed and seated herself before the keyboard.