Chapter 11

Hollystone Hall, Buckinghamshire

New Year’s Eve

“I hope this bedroom meets with your approval, Miss Woodville.” Cedrica Grenford, the Duchess of Haverford’s niece and personal secretary, pushed her spectacles up her nose as she regarded Kate expectantly. “And I must say, the duchess is very pleased that you could attend her house party, even though it is nearing the end.”

“I’m delighted to hear that, Miss Grenford,” replied Kate as she glanced about the small but comfortable-looking room with its floral chintz curtains, delicate cherrywood furniture, and cheerful fire. There was even a small gray and white kitten purring contentedly on the shepherdess chair by the hearth; Miss Grenford had already introduced her as Pearl.“This will do just nicely.”

“Excellent. It is actually most fortunate that you have arrived only today. Until recently, Hollystone Hall was full to overflowing, but with the departure of a few of the duchess’s guests, we have been able to accommodate you, your brother, and sister-in-law quite easily.” She gave a shy smile. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I think they are rather pleased to have one of the estate cottages all to themselves. How romantic to think they had a Yuletide wedding in the Lake District. It seems to be the season for proposals and weddings.”

“Yes, it was very romantic,” agreed Kate.

Thank heavens the story they’d all agreed upon—that Freddie had proposed to Violet in London on the eve of the journey to Hollystone and that Kate and Lord Stanton had gone with them to Cumbria so that they might wed by special license in Fenwick House’s small private chapel—was being taken at face value. So far. Hopefully no one had asked why Lady Stanton had not accompanied them…

Miss Grenford was looking at her expectantly, so Kate continued, “And we are most grateful that the duchess has been so accommodating at the last minute. Now, about payment for the tickets to the ball for myself, my brother, and his new wife—”

Miss Grenford beamed. “Oh, it has all been taken care of.”

“It has?” Kate frowned. How odd.

“Yes. Lord Stanton paid for them. He arrived yesterday and settled everything.”

“Oh. Oh, right. Yes, of course.” She hadn’t known Lord Stanton would be here; he’d left Fenwick House early on St. Stephen’s Day without a word to anyone, including Violet, which had caused her great pain. But given his stepmother was quite possibly still a guest at Hollystone Hall, it really should have occurred to her that he would return. What she hadn’t expected was his financial support with regard to purchasing tickets for the charity ball. “This may seem like a peculiar question, but is Lady Stanton still here?”

To her credit, Miss Grenford didn’t even blink. “Yes, she is, Miss Woodville. Do you wish to speak with her? I believe she’s in the drawing room with some of the other ladies of the party. I would be happy to show you—”

“No, no, it is quite all right. I have traveled a fair distance over the past week or so, and I think I might have a rest before I begin to prepare for the ball.”

Miss Grenford inclined her head. “I hope I am not speaking out of turn, but I have noticed you do not have a maid to assist you. If you need anything to be done—your clothing pressed or assistance with your toilette—please do not hesitate to ring, and I shall organize for one of the duchess’s maids to help you straightaway.”

Kate smiled, touched by the young woman’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.”

“You are most welcome.”

Miss Grenford took her leave, and Kate opened her traveling trunk and began to rummage through her things. She needed to decide what to wear to the charity ball; it had to be something that would make a good impression on the duchess. It seemed like so long ago that she’d first met Her Grace at Miss Clemens’s Book Palace in London, and she wondered if the duchess even remembered her—if Her Grace did, hopefully she hadn’t been labeled as “that unreliable woman who hadn’t arrived to help when she’d said she would.” Kate hadn’t yet had the opportunity to greet Her Grace this afternoon either; she’d been caught up with other hosting duties.

In the end, Kate decided she would have to choose between the sea green gown she had worn to the masquerade at Vauxhall or her brand new gown of white silk gauze over white satin. Trimmed with tiny bows and ribbon rosettes around the neckline and on the puffed sleeves, it was both delicately pretty and elegant. Holding each dress up against herself in turn, she examined herself in the looking glass and decided the white gown would do even if the bodice was cut rather daringly—she didn’t think Lady Stanton would remember that she’d worn the green gown in August at Vauxhall as the woman had barely regarded her that night, but it wouldn’t hurt to wear something new all the same.

She dared not think the white gown might attract Lord Stanton’s attention…

Telling herself she was a fool to let her thoughts drift in that direction and that she should be relieved to have as little as possible to do with Lord Stanton, she took up Miss Grenford’s offer of assistance and rang for a maid to press her gown. Then she drew the curtains, kicked off her half-boots, and lay down upon the soft bed. She was so very exhausted. The night ahead was sure to be eventful, and she’d need to marshal her wits and whatever charm she might possess if she were to successfully advocate for funds for expanding the school program and completing the remaining repairs that needed doing at White Church House.

If only she knew what Lady Stanton had been up to in her absence… At least Miss Grenford had not looked askance at her, or worse, treated her with disdain; as the Duchess of Haverford’s assistant, surely she would be party to any gossip flying about. So perhaps Kate was starting at shadows.

She supposed she would find out, tonight.

---

“Katie, you look wonderful.” Freddie’s smile was wide as she opened the door to her room, and he took in her appearance.

“Thank you,” she said patting her hair; one of the maids had kindly arranged it into an elaborately piled-up confection of curls—she swore she had more pins stuck in her head than a hedgehog had spines—but she had to admit, she did look rather elegant for once. She snatched up her matching fan and beaded reticule from a nearby chest of drawers and turned back to Freddie. “I also want to thank you for agreeing to escort me into the ball. I must confess, I’m a trifle nervous. I haven’t even seen Her Grace yet.” Kate peered past her brother’s broad, superfine clad shoulder into the hallway. “Where is Violet?”

Freddie pulled a face as he offered her his arm. “Talking with her horrid witch of a mother in the drawing room before we all go in. You know, one must keep up appearances.”

“At least they are talking now. Have you spoken to Lady Stanton? Or Lord Stanton?”

Freddie snorted. “Hardly. Lady Stanton looks straight through me, and Stanton just scowls disapprovingly before looking pointedly away.”

“I suppose that’s better than you trying to kill each other.”

“Yes. The cut direct is brutal but not fatal.” He patted Kate’s satin gloved hand. “We shall prevail.”

Despite her nerves, Kate smiled. “Yes. We shall.”

Freddie navigated their way through the milling tonnish guests when they entered a sumptuously decorated drawing room resplendent with elegantly carved furniture, gold-hued fabrics, and plush carpets. Kate realized she didn’t know a single soul. They all looked so refined… and intimidating. She felt like a pigeon amongst peacocks.

She whispered to Freddie when an older woman peered down her long nose at her through her gilded lorgnette and gave a haughty sniff, “This is probably not the best time or place to be asking this, but have you heard any untoward rumors about any of us?” About me?

“Not that I’ve been out and about much, but no. Everyone I have met so far has been scrupulously polite.”

“Good.” Kate relaxed a little. Perhaps things would go well after all. She’d even flirt if she must to secure a donation or two or someone’s patronage. She eyed a passing footman bearing a tray of champagne flutes and gave a wistful sigh. A sip or two would surely quell her nerves before she met the duchess. And the Lockhart family again.

But it was not to be. Freddie deftly steered her through the chattering crowd toward a settee where Violet sat with her mother below a gilt-framed painting of a glowering Haverford ancestor in silver armor. Lord Stanton stood to one side, his hands behind his back, wearing almost the same forbidding expression as the nobleman in the portrait. Despite her resolve not to react to his presence, Kate’s pulse fluttered, and her mouth grew dry. She felt like a moonstruck debutante.

“Freddie, I’ve missed you so,” exclaimed Violet, and reached out her hand to him which he took and kissed.

“He’s only been gone ten minutes,” muttered Lord Stanton.

Kate curtsied to the dowager countess. “Your ladyship.”

Lady Stanton raised an eyebrow. “Have we met?”

“Phyllis…” warned Lord Stanton.

Lady Stanton looked her up and down as if she were something a cat had dragged in from the barn. “Oh, that’s right. The teacher.” She may have well said “the prostitute.”

“Miss Kate Woodville,” corrected her stepson.

“I’m not an imbecile,” countered Lady Stanton.

“No, just supremely rude as usual,” retorted Kate, and then pressed her lips together. Damn, damn, damn. She’d done it once again, been ill-mannered when she couldn’t afford to be. When would she ever learn?

Violet had gone white. Freddie touched her arm as if staying her, but one corner of Lord Stanton’s lips twitched with an almost imperceptible smirk.

Lady Stanton rose in a flurry of turquoise silk. “How dare you—” but the rest of her admonishment was lost as a small gong sounded, and Hollystone’s butler announced the duchess was ready to receive her guests.

Lord Stanton took his stepmother’s arm and led the way toward the ballroom. Freddie offered one arm to his wife and then the other to Kate, and they followed. As they were last in line, it looked as if it would take a good five minutes or more to reach the duchess. While she waited, Kate tried not to stare at the back of Lord Stanton’s elegantly shaped head or handsome profile whenever he turned to speak to his stepmother, tried not to admire the broad line of his shoulders, how his black evening coat tapered down to skim his narrow hips and his long, muscular legs in breeches and hose. Why, oh why, couldn’t she be immune to his every gesture, every change in his expression, the desire for him to look her way even though she knew she would blush? Why couldn’t she forget about his kiss?

Thankfully Freddie and Violet didn’t seem to notice how ill-at-ease she was. Caught up in their own world, they exchanged quiet words and loving glances. When Kate looked about, she noticed several other couples exchanging similar looks with each other. It seemed many of the guests at Hollystone Hall had found love; indeed, hadn’t Miss Grenford remarked that it seemed to be the season for proposals and weddings?

But not for her. How ironic to think that she, Kate Woodville, spinster and stalwart bluestocking, was actually warming to the idea of love-matches, yet the object of her affection, the man she’d foolishly fallen in love with, clearly wanted nothing to do with her.

Hot tears stung her eyes, and she hastily blinked them away when she realized that within a matter of seconds, she would be meeting the Duchess of Haverford again.

She closed her eyes, inhaled, and on a slow exhale pushed away all thoughts of Lord Stanton and focused on what she wanted to say to the duchess until Freddie squeezed her hand. “It’s our turn, Katie.”

“Your Grace.” Kate dropped into her best curtsy then raised her gaze to meet the duchess’s insightful blue eyes. Miss Grenford, standing beside her, inclined her head in greeting.

The Duchess of Haverford smiled warmly. “Miss Woodville, what a pleasure it is to meet you again. I am very happy that you and your brother could attend after all. And in such felicitous circumstances. Mr. Woodville, your lovely new wife,” her gaze shifted to Violet before returning to Freddie’s, “and Lord Stanton have both informed me that congratulations are in order. I wish you both well.”

Violet glowed, and Freddie bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace. You are too kind.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, do go and enjoy yourselves. I believe the dancing will commence shortly.”

Kate felt as though a huge weight had been lifted off her chest as she turned away to follow Freddie and Violet into the magnificent ballroom. There had been no censure in the duchess’s gaze. Only approval. She might just get the funding she needed after all. Hopefully Her Grace would be able to spare a few moments during the course of the evening in order for Kate to court her interest a little more; she was certain the duchess would also be able to point her in the direction of potential patrons.

“Your Grace. A moment if you will.”

Oh, no. Lady Stanton. Kate tried not to visibly cringe as she turned around and watched the dowager viscountess step forward from the shadows of a nearby palm-shaded alcove. Lord Stanton seemed to have disappeared. So had Freddie and Violet.

The duchess raised an eyebrow. “Yes? What can I help you with, Lady Stanton?”

Miss Grenford stepped closer and murmured by the duchess’s ear, “Please excuse me, Your Grace, but there is a rather long line of guests waiting to be admitted at the front door, and it has just begun to snow again…”

The duchess nodded before turning to the dowager countess. “Perhaps we could speak later, Lady Stan—”

“I’m afraid it cannot wait, Your Grace,” interrupted Lady Stanton, turning her back on Kate. “I have been meaning to tell you for some time that I have grave reservations about the worthiness of the charity that Miss Woodville is asking you and other guests to support.”

“Is that The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel, Cedrica?” asked the duchess.

Her assistant nodded. “Yes. You are correct.”

Lady Stanton took a step closer to the duchess and lowered her voice as she said, “I’m not sure if someone as illustrious as you, Your Grace, should be associated with fallen women and their illegitimate offspring—”

The duchess’s gaze grew frosty as she regarded the dowager viscountess. “Your stepson has already told me a good deal about it this afternoon, Lady Stanton. It sounds like the most worthy of causes; offering children in desperate need the opportunity to receive an education whilst their mothers are at work. I understand there is also a lodging house which provides a safe place for families to stay until they can find alternative accommodation.”

At the risk of being branded an eavesdropper, Kate stepped forward and nodded. “Yes. Your Grace, White Church House.”

Lord Stanton had advocated for my charity? It felt like a bright spring bloom was opening inside her.

The duchess smiled. “It sounds most admirable, and I would be more than happy to lend my support and publicly endorse it this evening. I am sure more than a few sizeable donations will be headed your way.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Ignoring Lady Stanton’s glare, Kate took her leave, her head pleasantly buzzing as if she’d been imbibing too much wine again. The effect was only magnified as she stepped into the ballroom; it was breathtakingly beautiful. Elaborate chandeliers and gilt wall sconces illuminated a high-ceilinged chamber decorated with exquisitely rendered plasterwork featuring scrolls and flowers, vines and fruit. Swathes of emerald green brocade adorned the windows, and the walls above the golden beechwood panels were papered in pale gold and ivory damask. Even the wooden parquetry floor gleamed.

Although the room was quite crowded and filled with lively voices, laughter, and music, she located Freddie and Violet fairly quickly. They were conversing with another blissfully happy, newlywed couple, Apollo and Charlotte Rothschild, the Earl and Countess of Somerton.

Kate was readily accepted into the conversation, and after she’d had a glass of champagne and danced a cotillion with Freddie and a country dance with another gentleman, the very agreeable Lord Hythe, she’d begun to believe she might actually have a pleasant evening despite the fact she kept looking for Lord Stanton’s dark head amongst the other guests.

Because try as she might, she couldn’t suppress the desire to say, “thank you” to him in person, for supporting her much beloved charity.

He might not wish to have anything more to do with her, but she couldn’t fault his generosity or kindness. Not now. It made her wonder why he’d suddenly became a champion for her cause…

After Lord Hythe returned her to Freddie and Violet, she helped herself to another champagne from a passing footman. As she took a sip, she caught a movement at the edge of her vision, and then a deep and familiar voice murmured, “Miss Woodville, I know you have just begun to drink a glass of champagne, but would you do me the great honor of joining me in the next dance?”

Oh, my goodness. Kate’s heart somersaulted in her chest. She turned and met Lord Stanton’s gaze. She had to swallow before she could speak, but even then her voice was husky. “Yes. Yes, I would be most happy to.”

Lord Stanton smiled, and her heart flipped again. “Excellent.”

The lively reel before them suddenly came to an end, and Kate decided she really didn’t want her champagne after all. She passed her glass to a frowning Freddie and then said to Lord Stanton, “I’m ready if you are.”

He offered her his arm by way of response, and within moments, they were in the midst of the other couples on the dance floor. “Do you know what the next dance is, my lord?” She looked about, watching the other couples to see whether there was a particular position she should assume, but then to her dismay, she noted that everyone was pairing up for a turning waltz. “Oh…”

Lord Stanton drew closer and placed his hands gently beneath her elbows. “Don’t worry, Miss Woodville,” he said softly. “Just relax if you can and follow my lead.”

Her pulse skipped about chaotically as she placed her hands on Lord Stanton’s wide shoulders. The last time she’d touched him like this had been beneath the kissing bough… “I’ll try,” she whispered.

This time when he smiled at her, a flash of something she thought might be satisfaction rather than mere amusement lit his eyes. “Good.”

The dance began, and Kate followed Lord Stanton as well as she could; the ballroom floor was exceedingly crowded, and more than once she found herself tripping over her own toes or Lord Stanton’s. But Lord Stanton didn’t seem to mind. He caught her each time and murmured words of encouragement. By the end of the waltz, they were both laughing.

“Come with me,” he whispered as the last notes of the music faded away. His fingers threaded through hers most scandalously, and before Kate knew what he was about, he was leading her off the floor, out of the ballroom, and down a corridor to a room that appeared to be some sort of small parlor. It was a decidedly cozy room—all mahogany and rose silk wallpaper and feminine furniture. A large arrangement of Christmas roses, holly, ivy, and fragrant rosemary adorned the mantelpiece, and a fire burned brightly in the grate.

“I don’t understand. Why are we here?” Kate asked in a voice breathless from nerves as much as rushing.

Lord Stanton closed the door, and his mouth curved into a mysterious smile. “All will become apparent in a moment, Miss Woodville.” He crossed to a beautifully carved walnut desk, pulled out several pieces of folded paper from his inside coat pocket, and then picked up a rather large, swan feather quill.

Kate’s gloved hand flew to her mouth when she realized where they were. “Is this the duchess’s personal study?” she breathed. “Lord Stanton, I really don’t think we should—”

“Miss Woodville. It is quite all right. I spoke with Her Grace earlier, and I have her permission to use the room.”

“For what?” She drew closer to the desk, curious.

Lord Stanton dipped the nib of the quill in the ink well and then signed the papers. He blotted them and passed the smaller one to her with a grin. “For this.”

Kate took it with shaking hands. It was a bank note made out to The Benevolent Society for the Women of Whitechapel for an exorbitant sum. It was enough to secure a permanent teacher and completely restore White Church House. They could even buy books and a new pianoforte. Oh, my Lord. Kate gripped the edge of the desk and looked up at Lord Stanton; his face blurred as her vision grew misty with tears. “You cannot… I cannot accept… You must be mad,” she whispered. “This is too much. Why would you do this?”

Lord Stanton moved around the desk to where she stood. “Because, my dear Miss Woodville, this charity means so much to you. And I want to make you happy.”

Kate shook her head. Had she heard him correctly?

“I have something else for you, too.”

He passed her the other set of papers. It was the deed for White Church House. And it was made out to her.

“I… I don’t know what say… How…? When…?” she stammered. Her eyes brimmed with tears again. Confusion and elation had all but rendered her speechless.

“I sent word to my man of business in London before I left Fenwick. He negotiated with St. Mary’s Church on my behalf and arranged the purchase. I received the papers this afternoon. Which are your papers now.”

“Oh… I still don’t know what to say except thank you. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart. You have no idea… I never expected anything like this…” Somehow she managed to blink away her tears of happiness enough to see Lord Stanton’s handsome face clearly. “Thank you, Lord Stanton,” she said again with heartfelt sincerity. “I don’t know how I shall ever be able to repay you.”

The smile that curved his mouth was gentle. “You don’t owe me anything, my lovely Kate, although I was rather hoping you might begin to call me Anthony rather than Lord Stanton.”

“But…” Did that mean what she thought it might mean? Kate’s heart all but stopped before it began racing so very fast. Lord Stanton—Anthony—was smiling at her again so tenderly, with such adoration, it could only mean one thing. “I would be delighted to call you Anthony,” she whispered. “And it would also please me greatly if you continued to call me Kate. But you must tell me why.” Her voice caught, and she had to swallow past the lump in her throat before continuing, “I don’t think I can bear it if you don’t speak plainly.”

“I fully intend to, my sweet.” He took the bank note and the deed for White Church House, put them on the desk, and then took her trembling hands in his. Caught her gaze and held it as he drew her closer. “Kate Woodville, you are the sweetest, kindest, bravest, fiercest, and most intelligent woman I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I love everything about you from the tip of your freckled nose to the toes of your clumsy but dainty feet.”

“Even my wild red hair?”

Anthony’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Most definitely your wild red hair.”

“I’m not that clumsy.”

He brushed his fingers down the side of her hot cheek. “No.”

“Did you really just tell me that you love everything about me?”

“I most definitely did, but more than that, I love you, Kate. So much so that I have come to realize that I cannot live without you by my side. I know I’ve been a bombastic ass a good deal of the time, but I want you to know, since I left you at Fenwick, I’ve been in a state of absolute despair. You are all I think and dream about. You, sweet Kate.”

Kate’s vision blurred again. “Oh, Anthony, I love you, too. I—”

Before she could finish, Anthony framed her face with his hands and kissed her with a thoroughness that made her giddy and breathless with joy. When they at last drew apart, she was pleased to note Anthony’s dark lashes were damp with tears, too.

He rested his forehead against hers and slid his hands to her waist. “Darling Kate, I should be on bended knee, but for the life of me, now that I have you in my arms, I cannot let you go.” He kissed her again with tender reverence and then whispered, “Say you’ll marry me, my love. Nothing would make me happier in this life than to hear you say you’ll consent to be my wife.”

Kate drew back a little and reached up to touch Anthony’s face. “Of course I’ll marry you. Until I met you, I’d always thought that I would live a life quite alone. But you, you have given me the gift of love. I want to always be with you, too.”

“Then that is how it shall be,” he said, and sealed his promise with another kiss. “You and I together forever.”

It was quite some time before Anthony and Kate emerged from the duchess’s private study and made their way back to the ballroom.

“How do you think your stepmother will take the news of our engagement?” asked Kate.

Anthony squeezed her hand that was tucked into his arm. “Between us, I think we can manage Phyllis well enough. And if she doesn’t show you any respect, it will be off to the dower house for her. But I’m actually more concerned how your brother will take the news.”

“I don’t think he’s going to call you out.”

“As long as he continues to make Violet happy, I think we can manage to call a truce.”

Kate smiled as the last of her worries slipped away. “Thank you. You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that.”

Anthony kissed her hand. “Anything for you, my love.”

She couldn’t stop smiling, and it seemed neither could her husband-to-be; as soon as they reached Freddie and Violet, Violet squealed and threw her arms about Kate and then her brother.

“You’re betrothed, aren’t you? I can see it written all over your faces.”

Anthony confirmed it was indeed true, and it wasn’t long before heartfelt congratulations were being bestowed by Freddie and almost everyone that was assembled in the ballroom, including the Duchess of Haverford herself.

When the enormous Boulle clock on the mantelpiece in the supper room chimed the hour of midnight, Anthony flagrantly ignored all dictates of decorum and kissed Kate, all while the assembled guests of Hollystone Hall broke into a rousing rendition of Auld Lang Syne to welcome in the New Year.

Kate’s heart expanded with hope and love as she wound her hands around Anthony’s neck and returned his kiss with an equal amount of ardor. The future, for all of them, looked bright and beautiful indeed.