The Widow and the Rogue (7 page)

She could not help but wonder what her life would have been like if she had had someone like him to watch over her, instead of being bartered away by her greedy uncle into an unwanted marriage with an aged lord.

Would she have led a carefree life full of parties and friends like Laeticia? No. She somehow knew instinctively that she would not have been as extreme as Laeticia was. Even so, it was difficult not to feel a sharp pang of envy at the thought.

“A grand shame . . . you’ve indulged your sister’s whims too much. She is quite spoiled, and at twenty-one dangerously nearing spinsterhood,” said the old widow decisively.

Kathleen blanched a little at the older woman’s blunt manner. She was not holding back her opinions. And being as she was Irish, Lady Agnes had a sharp tongue and was using it like a double-edged sword.

To a stranger her ladyship’s forthrightness was a bit unsettling. But her friends knew her loyalty was fixed. It never changed, meriting an equal devotion from those upon whom she bestowed it. She was feisty, it was true, but it was not difficult to like the tiny spitfire.

“Faith, it is no wonder then that your sister makes like a vagabond and does what she wishes, and goes wherever she chooses. Ah, well . . . I suppose I ought to be grateful for that. She’ll not be underfoot while we’re here. Indeed I shall enjoy watching over this gentle lady. Aye, and if you’re wondering if ye had asked me to chaperone that willful sister of yours, I tell you plain, sir, I’d have bluntly refused.”

Kathleen turned to Beau expecting a sharp reaction, but he sallied back at the petite virago before him, maintaining his usual calm with a touch of wry humor.

“Oh, uh—quite,” said Beau, but then a glimmer of dry amusement entered his voice. “For I suppose if she were here, Laeticia might accidentally step on some respectable toes, and we mustn’t have that, must we? After all, a young lady should only desire to please her elders and not herself when looking for a spouse, and any thoughts of her attending balls and meeting eligible young gentlemen who might want to marry her . . . well, that would be quite unpardonable.”

“Enough,” muttered the tiny Irish woman, interrupting him with a pounding of the tip of her parasol against the marble floor. “I see what you’re getting at, young man. You think that high-stepping sister of yours can manage well enough on her own, without any guidance from someone more experienced, such as myself.“

“Indeed.”

“Humph,” answered the tiny lady, conceding the point. “I suppose she’ll make do, as I recall that chit did have a few winsome ways about her, which some gentlemen might find to be appealing. Aye, and as I have enough to occupy myself with this gentle lady here . . .”

She gave a pointed glance at Kathleen who was observing the conversation with wide-eyed wonder. She had never seen two people speak to each other with such vigor and yet maintain their good humor. It was quite a wonder.

“I’ll therefore not take any further offense at her rude absence,” concluded the spirited companion.

“That is most magnanimous of your ladyship to do so,” Beau agreed. Smiling, he gave a small bow of acknowledgment of the truce between them.

The whole exchange made Kathleen a bit wistful. It was refreshing to see Lady Fitzpatrick and Master Powers banter in this way, sallying words back and forth, without any fear of negative repercussions.

She’d remembered her parents had talked in this lively manner when they were alive. Their conversations at times had been quite witty. But at the same time respectful, not dismissive. Unlike the conversations she’d had with her late husband, who always made her feel foolish and naive.

She suddenly wished she could make Beau smile and laugh at something she said . . . She caught herself in mid-thought, but then maybe he was only trying to win Lady Agnes over in order to maintain her goodwill?

She frowned. She looked over the handsome solicitor and reminded herself to keep her guard up. Perhaps his sunny disposition would change?

Her uncle had been kind to her in the beginning, as well, but in due time he had become cold-hearted and self-centered. Eventually, he’d ceased to take care of her altogether . . . and she continued to worry that her new guardian might do the same.

Hiding a grin, Beau turned, and spied a gentleman he himself depended upon—his valet. The servant approached them and bowed to the ladies as way of greeting. The slightly pepper-haired gentleman with the build of a pugilist, whispered discreetly into his master’s ear.

Beau murmured, “I see . . . Ladies, may I present to you, Humphrey Whitfield, my man. He will show you to your rooms. My housekeeper, Mrs. Robinson, has stepped out to attend to some shopping. Apparently, she only received word this morning of our impending arrival. Laeticia had apparently forgotten to inform her.” He stopped what he was about to say next. He frowned and glanced at the tiny Irish widow.

Lady Fitzpatrick raised her eyebrows meaningfully.

He did not need to continue. What he had to say only proved what the chaperone had already said to be true. His sister was thoughtless, as well as spoiled.

A proper hostess would have planned ahead, and she would have informed the servants of their coming. Then, upon their arrival, she would have been there to politely greet them at the door and invite them into the drawing-room. They would have been served a welcoming dish of hot tea and scones. But none of that expected hospitality had come to pass.

Beau’s sister, too preoccupied with her own plans, had not troubled herself with anyone else’s. She had not bothered to inform the servants of their impending arrival, placing those in service in an uncomfortable position. They were not ready for their master and his guests’ arrival. Her behavior was most inconsiderate and self-centered. Two character faults that now could not be overlooked with good humor and a quip.

Humphrey helped the outriders carry their trunks up to the bedchambers. He returned and guided them around the house. Their chamber windows faced Saint Stephen’s Green. And as she looked out, Kathleen enjoyed the sight of the lush trees and strolling pedestrians.

“At least the housekeeper knows her business,” commented Lady Fitzpatrick, sticking her head into the room. “The curtains are well shaken and I’ve noticed the chambermaid has swept what ash there was out of the fire grates. There is even fresh paper and pens on the writing desks. It would appear the young mistress of the house may be lacking in preparedness, but not the servants. Aye, those serving here appear to be well devoted to their duties. He is a fortunate man to have such good service.”

Kathleen nodded in agreement, looking at the well-kept room.

The large four-poster bed was not as grand as the one she had at Dovehill Hall. The poles were shorter and less heavy in stature. But they suited the room’s size. The bed linens were made up of white cotton damask with a colorful pattern of leaves and flowers loomed on Jacquard machinery. The manufactured fabric had recently come into popularity, being vastly cheaper than those loomed by hand.

The window and bed draperies were made of cherry-red merino fabric. The material was a mixture of thin woolen-twilled cloth combined with spun silk. It was very fashionably cut and looped on the Grecian-styled window rods.

“One cannot fault Master Powers’s taste,” she said, touching the curtains’ long fringes. The house reflected the gentleman’s style. It was elegant and tasteful. Displaying none of the ornate, over-the-top decorating her late husband had spent Midas amounts of time and money upon.

“Indeed,” her companion agreed, looking at the young widow thoughtfully, “he does . . . Come, my dear, I believe a cup of tea is what is called for now. The dust from our journey still lies thickly in the back of my throat, and I want to see if the food served is equally as pleasing as the decor.”

*    *    *

It was as they were entering the salon a loud commotion was heard outside. The sounds of an angry man yelling and the loud barking of a dog penetrated the stone walls of the townhouse.

Curious, Kathleen opened the front door.

Barking, while trying to escape the man chasing after him, was a large black beast that bounded past the front door. Two paws the size of large saucers planted themselves on Kathleen’s shoulders. A long, rough tongue proceeded to joyfully lick her face.

“Down,” commanded a stern voice from nearby.

Beau pulled off her what now appeared to be a large puppy. The animal obediently complied, his long tail wagging.

“Ye damnable son of Lucifer!” yelled a man in an oily cap coming up the portico steps. “Get out of there. I’m gonna whip your black hide until you’re dead this time. That’ll be the last time you run away from me—you worthless bit of flea-bitten fur!”

The animal, upon seeing the angry man, growled. The hair on the back of its thick neck bristled. His large puppy eyes squinted in anger.

Compassionately, Kathleen bent down and put her arms around the animal’s neck, trying to soothe him.

“It’s all right, boy, no one is going to harm you,” she said reassuringly, looking up at Beau for agreement.

“Here, give me back m’ dog,” demanded the man gruffly.

“How much?” said Beau, crisply.

“How much for what?” repeated the stranger.

He reached his hand out to grab the dog, but the animal bared its fangs at him. Cautiously, he drew back.

“The dog—I wish to purchase him from you,” Beau reiterated.

“Now see here, Gov’—that animal belongs t’ me. I can do with him what I likes.”

“I did not say otherwise,” Beau said, removing a few shillings from his waist pocket. “I wish to purchase him from you.”

“He’s been nothing but trouble. Eating me out of house and home, running off every chance he gets . . .” the man said.

His thunder slowed as Beau placed coin after coin into his outstretched hand. When five shillings were placed into his palm, the man stopped his mutterings.

He counted the coins out one by one and said, not giving the animal a second glance, “But seeing as your lady here seems taken with him . . . well, for sure now, I suppose I could part with the troublesome beast.”

As if sensing his change in fortune, the dog began to once again vigorously wag his tail. He rubbed his large black head up against her hand.

She stroked him. She’d always liked animals. They were never greedy and never betrayed you. They simply wanted to be fed and taken care of.

After the oily man had parted, Beau asked her, “What name shall you give him, Lady Langtry? He’s yours now.”

This announcement was a surprise. She had not expected him to give her the dog. She had thought he would have wanted to keep the animal for himself, since he had paid for him. But from the broad smile he’d bestowed upon her, she could see that he was pleased to do so.

She smiled her thanks, and petting the animal gave its name some thought. She said, “I shall call him Tim . . . after Saint Timothy.”

“A good name. I hope he is as devoted to you as his namesake was to his master.”

Smiling at the young dog, she said with confidence, “He will be.”

“Master Powers,” said Lady Fitzpatrick, warily eyeing the puppy, which stood as tall as her shoulders. “I do hope you have a barn attached to this domicile.”

“I do. Why, Lady Fitzpatrick?”

“Because this creature you think is a dog, by the looks of him, might turn out to be a horse.”

“Then I shall buy a saddle and you will have to ride him if he is,” put in Kathleen with a hint of a laugh.

“Hmm . . .” The tiny lady nodded, eyeing the puppy up and down. “We shall have to check it for fleas.” With a decisive nod, she walked into the parlor. They followed her in, the expected tea waiting for them on a serving tray.

*    *    *

Days at St. Stephen’s Green passed pleasantly with visits to art galleries, concert halls, and excursions to the center of Dublin, as well as to places of note, such as Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. It was that pulpit Jonathan Swift, the author of
Gulliver’s Travels
, had once served as dean and was now entombed in.

Kathleen had begun to take early morning promenades on the green with Tim loping along beside her on his large clumsy paws. Her chaperone, Lady Agnes, on occasion, would absent herself in order to help Lady Beatrice, her niece, with buying items for her upcoming nuptials. She carried around in her reticule a long list containing items her niece requested. The bride was about to become mistress of the newly renovated Drennan Castle and needed to replace many outdated household items.

Master Powers would spend most of his day in court. He worked at helping sort out matters at the partnership, meeting clients, and other members of chambers. His expertise was invaluable to the solicitors. As a result, she seldom saw him until evening.

“Come on, boy,” she called to Tim, who stood on the green, gazing at the waterfowl. The birds were floating in the duck pond connected to the River Liffey. “No swimming today.”

She’d been teaching him to come and to fetch with an old croquet ball. The large square in front of the townhouse had proved to be the perfect patch of wide lawn for letting the young animal frolic. When Beau had a moment to spare, he would help her train him.

They had come to the conclusion that Tim was a mixed breed. He was part Labrador with a smattering of Irish setter. His large paws and black head bespoke of his parentage. He proved at first to be an unruly creature, tearing into bedchamber slippers and sneaking food off the kitchen table. However, with consistent and stern disciplining, he was turning into a well-behaved pet.

She admired the firm voice Beau used in telling the dog to “stay.”

Tim obediently did not budge. His tail wagged happily while he sat, not moving, knowing his master would soon release him to run across the green.

“I wonder,” she offhandedly remarked, “if children can be as easily trained.”

Beau gave a small laugh at the thought.

“I rather doubt it. If I recall, my poor nurse often told me that she was at wit’s end as to what to do with me,” he confessed. “I am afraid I was a little demon. I often caused trouble. And no amount of threats or reprimands had any effect on me.”