On the afternoon following the ball Nate stretched out on a couch in Zach’s library, trying to decide how to occupy himself. He could stroll down to White’s in search of a game of cards or congenial male company but it seemed like too much effort. Zach, who never seemed to be idle, was working his way methodically through a pile of papers but had not accepted Nate’s halfhearted offer of assistance with the family’s business affairs.
Zach’s Irish wolfhounds, Phantom and Phineas, were both in their customary positions on the rug in front of the fire, heads lolling over their outstretched front paws; but Nate knew that if Zach moved they would be alert in an instant, ready to follow Zach to the ends of the earth, such was their dedication to him.
“I’ve received a note from Radford,” Zach remarked, waking Nate from a half-doze. “He’s lost a few more head of cattle. Sounds like the thieves are getting themselves more organised.”
“Presumably you’re telling me this because you’d like me to go down there and see if I can find out who’s responsible?” Nate yawned. “Not sure it will do much good, but as always my services are entirely at your disposal.”
“It probably wouldn’t hurt for a member of the family to show his face.” Zach shrugged. “Not much you can do to get the cattle back. They will be on someone’s dinner plate by now, but you might want to discuss with Radford increased security measures to ensure the property isn’t invaded again. This has happened too often recently for my comfort. It’s not a large estate, the thefts are happening at night and so Radford should ensure the cattle are herded into an area where they can be protected more easily.”
Nate closed his eyes again in an ineffectual attempt to resume his slumber. “You’d think he would be aware of that.”
“He’s probably worried about the increased cost of patrolling the herd. You need to discuss that with him, thrash something out. These gangs roaming the country, looking for easy pickings, will leave our property alone if we make it too difficult for them to get near the livestock. For that reason the patrols protecting them ought to be highly visible.”
“Radford can be a surly so-and-so if he thinks someone’s trying to tell him how to do his job,” Nate replied, yawning.
“It’s not his estate. It’s one that you’re supposed to be taking overall responsibility for. Don’t let him treat you like a Johnny raw.”
“Point taken. And Guildford isn’t so very far. I can make the ride easily in a day, stay for a few days more to shake things up and then return to keep you company until you decide to return to Winchester.” Nate grinned. “Have to help you fend the females off, big brother.”
“Too kind,” Zach replied drolly. “Anyway, don’t go to Guildford for a couple of days yet. It will keep. If you miss mother’s party tomorrow night you’ll make her numbers uneven.”
“God forbid!” Nate stretched his arms above his head and yawned again. “Lady Katrina’s family home is in Guildford.”
Zach looked up and grinned. “Shame she will be here in London then.”
Nate rolled his eyes. “Don’t you start. I’m far too young and delicate to be thinking along those lines.”
“Four-and-twenty is old enough.”
“Says the old man of thirty-three.”
The door opened and Romsey joined them. Since marrying Anna he had given up the rooms he’d kept for his bachelor use when in London and on Zach’s advice hadn’t purchased a property more suitable for his new family. Sheridan House had more rooms than the family could ever use and Romsey and Anna were welcome to stay there whenever they were in town. Nate was glad. He would never admit it but Anna’s lively irreverence kept her brothers on their toes, even though they had ceded responsibility for her welfare to Romsey.
“You look like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders,” Nate said.
“You don’t know the half of it. I was a damned fool to think tensions in Europe would ease once Napoleon was overthrown. The fact of the matter is the squabbles between the nations have become worse than ever.”
“The Holy Alliance giving you problems again?” Zach asked, not without sympathy in his tone.
Nate knew he was referring to the attempts made at the Congress of Vienna by the emperors of Russia and Austria, the kings of Prussia, France and Spain and almost all the European states to form an alliance to promote peace and good will. Based on Christian tenets and idealistic optimism, it was poised to crush any attempts to establish self-government throughout Europe. Since each nation put its own interests ahead of its neighbours, Nate failed to see how it would achieve that objective.
“You have no idea. Still, it’s mostly Heston’s problem, thank God.”
“Lady Katrina’s father?” Nate asked.
“The very same. It’s common knowledge that Napoleon drove out the Bourbon kings, destroyed the Holy Roman Empire and weakened the papacy. England is against the alliance, and rightly so in my opinion, but Castlereagh is very pro the Austrian stance.” Romsey shook his head. “Damned Foreign Secretaries should keep their opinions about foreign policy to themselves. We’d all be better off that way. There’s more trouble and insurrection in the offing, you just mark my words.”
“When isn’t there?” Nate asked with a weary sigh.
Zach went to the sideboard and poured whisky for each of them.
“Thank you,” Romsey said, taking his glass from Zach’s hand. “I obviously look as though I need fortification.”
“Nobody could persuade me to take your job,” Zach replied.
“I’m trying to give it up, as you know.” Romsey took a sip of his drink and scowled. “Problem is, I care too much about England’s interests and can’t bring myself to walk away when our foreign policy is in such turmoil.”
“Then you will never be free,” Zach warned.
“No, you’re probably right about that but don’t tell Anna.”
Nate chuckled. “You think she doesn’t already know?”
“She most likely does. I can seldom deceive her. Not that I would do so deliberately anyway. Well, not unless it was in her own best interests.” Romsey paused. “Oh by the way, Nate, I asked around about your rival.”
“Rival?” Nate frowned. “Who the devil are you talking about?”
“Brown,” Romsey replied, sharing an amused glance with Zach. “There’s nothing official on record but those in the know tell me his father was a contemporary of Heston’s. They lived in the same village but didn’t mix in the same social circles. Which is why it’s odd that when Brown’s father died, Heston took responsibility for the son. Brown owes his education and career as a civil servant to Heston’s largesse—”
“He’s Heston’s protégé?” Nate asked.
“Apparently so. He’s certainly taken a prodigious interest in his career and made a point of asking for him as an aide.” Romsey shrugged. “None of the permanent secretaries at the Foreign Office knows much about him…Brown, that is. They say he’s efficient enough but never reveals much about himself.”
“Same could be said for all you diplomat bods,” Zach replied.
Nate nodded his agreement. Brown was nothing to do with him. Still, since he was obliged to go to Guildford in a day or two, he might just ask a few questions about Brown’s background, merely to satisfy his own curiosity.
***
Frankie, Katrina soon discovered, did not make false promises. She put her plan of introducing Katrina to frivolous activities into immediate effect. Frankie had her modiste and her assistants call to measure Katrina for a whole new wardrobe. Katrina was delighted with that scheme and enjoyed looking through the various samples of fabric—silks, cambric, muslin—so different to the materials available to her in Europe. She took the modiste’s advice on colour and cut and was easily persuaded to order a great many more gowns than she would probably ever need.
“You see,” she said to Frankie when the beaming modiste left them with a full order book. “It is not so very difficult for me to be impulsive. I merely required a suitable excuse, to say nothing of a little encouragement.”
Frankie smiled her understanding. “Few ladies require an excuse to extend their wardrobes,” she said. “It is a failing we all share.”
“That is most likely true. I don’t feel guilty about the expense either. I have a little money of my own left to me by Mama so I shall not need to trouble Papa on the matter.”
Frankie arched a brow. “Your father would resent paying for your gowns?”
“Oh, I am perfectly sure that he would be happy to.” Katrina grinned, not entirely sure of any such thing. “But I am exercising my independence.”
Katrina did not add that Papa didn’t approve of extravagance and she would prefer for him not to know just how extravagant she had actually been. But the fact of the matter was she only owned the one ball gown she had worn the previous evening and had two evening gowns to her name. Papa seemed to think that was sufficient for her needs but she already knew that wouldn’t be the case. All the sophisticated and elaborate ball gowns she had observed the previous night had quite taken her breath away. She had been wondering how to appear at the next ball wearing the same gown, without attracting criticism. Her desire to act impulsively did not stretch to being the subject of ridicule.
Frankie must have realised how lacking her guest’s wardrobe actually was, which was why she had arranged for the modiste’s visit and for the new gowns Katrina ordered to be completed remarkably quickly. And it was all done with apparent spontaneity, as though Frankie had not already put the woman on notice to attend them. Such a prestigious dressmaker probably did not make house calls as a matter of course and certainly not without suitable notice. Katrina enjoyed the rare luxury of indulging herself and was very glad Frankie had thought to address the issue early enough in Katrina’s stay for her to be able to save face.
“Right, my dear,” Frankie said. “We just have time to revive ourselves with a cup of tea and then we must change into walking gowns.”
“Where are we walking to?”
“Possibly nowhere, but we are going to take the carriage into the park.”
“To see and be seen.” Katrina grinned. “I shall enjoy the experience but if you don’t mind my saying so, it doesn’t sound terribly spontaneous.”
“The spontaneous element rather depends upon whom we meet there and that we must leave to chance. The park will be packed with fashionable people at this hour doing the same thing as us.” Frankie’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “There is every possibility that we will be invited to stroll with interesting persons.”
“But it’s freezing.”
Frankie shrugged. “Then wear your warmest half-boots.”
Katrina did better than that. She especially disliked being cold. She knew a thing or two about the unfortunate consequences of being unsuitably clothed for inclement weather, having spent so many years in Switzerland in an establishment where Madame did not believe in creature comforts. Restraint in all things was apparently character-building. Katrina had yet to ascertain why.
She donned a walking dress of thick twill in a pretty shade of apricot trimmed with swansdown. The gown fastened behind and was loose at the back, but fitted tight below her breasts, showing her figure to its best advantage. The bottom of the skirt was finished in the French style with tight tucks. That was hardly to be wondered at since it had been made for her in Paris.
The spencer that she wore over the gown was of pale fawn velvet, as was her bonnet, except the colour was a clever combination of apricot and fawn, lined with white satin, trimmed with a twisted rouleau of white and apricot satin and tied beneath her chin. She pulled on her thickest kid gloves and examined her reflection in the long glass, pleased with what she saw. This was her only new gown—one even Papa had deemed essential for a British winter—and it was the first time she had worn it.
“You look very pretty, my dear,” Frankie said when Katrina descended the stairs. “Are you ready to take Hyde Park by storm?”
Katrina laughed. “Hardly that.”
Having only been in London for a few days, everything was still new and exciting for Katrina. She looked out of the carriage window at the passing scenery—the magnificent buildings, the other carriages, an endlessly changing sea of faces hurrying about their business—with great interest. Frankie’s coachman made the short journey to the entrance to the park and stopped at the end of a long line of carriages heading for the same destination.
“Good heavens!” Katrina said, craning her neck, wondering what could have happened. “Has there been an accident do you suppose?”
“I doubt it. This is quite normal for late afternoon in the season. As you rightly pointed out earlier, it is the only fashionable place to be seen at such an hour.”
“Except we can’t really be seen because it’s too cold for the hood to be down.”
“People will know who we are and will acknowledge us,” Frankie assured her.
“They will know you, certainly. I am a stranger in my own country.”
“Not anymore,” Frankie said, smiling as a handsome young man astride a prancing hunter paused to doff his hat at them. He spared a special smile for Katrina when she impulsively lowered the window and waved, recognising him from the ball although unable to recall his name.
“Point proved, I believe,” Frankie said as their carriage moved forward and finally passed through the park gates.
“This must seem terribly dull to you, Frankie. I dare say you have much better things you could be doing but I find it terribly interesting.”
Frankie’s eyes twinkled. “Because so many young gentlemen have made a point of acknowledging you, perhaps?”
“Not at all…well, yes.” Katrina flashed a rueful smile. “Does that make me seem terribly shallow? I dare say Papa would say that it did.”
“It makes you human,” Frankie replied, patting her hand. “You are young and lovely and have every right to enjoy being admired.”
Katrina lowered the window so frequently and poked her head out that Frankie eventually asked her if she would mind keeping it closed. Incredibly Katrina, who disliked the cold intensely, had been so taken up with the colourful array of passing traffic, on foot, on horseback and in carriages, that she hadn’t noticed the chill in the air.
One of the reasons for her distraction she admitted with a woeful shake of her head, was that she had been looking to see if Lord Nate was out and about. Really, impetuosity was in danger of going to her head. She considered it unlikely that he would do anything as predictable as parade in the park, drawing himself to the attention of ambitious mothers with daughters to marry off. But even if he did happen to be there she should not be trying to ensure that he saw her.
Katrina had no idea what had come over her. She felt a bit the way she had when lessons with Madame came to an end for the summer and she was released from the drudgery of that regime to join Papa wherever he happened to be in Europe. She had always felt lightheaded and giddy with relief at having escaped the strict routine maintained by Madame. She would treat this temporary deviation from her duty to Papa in the same manner she decided, and since she had agreed to be spontaneous she also had the freedom to want to see whomsoever she liked without feeling guilty about it.
She did not see Lord Nate or any members of his family, but their carriage was stopped frequently by a succession of gentlemen who acknowledged Frankie and asked to be introduced to Katrina. Fortunately none of those gentlemen invited them to leave the carriage. Very few brave souls traipsed about in the freezing temperatures and those who did so walked at a brisk pace. Next to waltzing or taking the air on terraces during balls, Katrina was aware that walking in the park with a young lady, albeit beneath the watchful eye of her chaperone, was a popular means of enjoying her society and exchanging a few words in private. Unfortunately the elements were not cooperating today and flirtations would have to be deferred until a more suitable juncture.
Charming though all the gentlemen who accosted them appeared to be, none of them could have persuaded Katrina to risk life and limb by leaving a perfectly warm carriage and treading on ground that was perilously icy underfoot. Well, she conceded, perhaps there was one gentleman who might have changed her mind but if he had a lick of sense he would be ensconced at his club in front of a roaring fire, with a decent glass of claret in hand.
“That was very informative,” Katrina said when they had returned to Park Street and were sitting beside the fire consuming hot chocolate and crumpets dripping with butter and honey. Madame would be aghast at the excess, but then Madame would be horrified at almost everything Katrina had done since arriving in London. None of it had been undertaken with the intention of improving her mind and pleasure for pleasure’s sake was universally frowned upon in Madame’s strict world. “I wouldn’t have you think I’m ungrateful,” she added, inelegantly licking melted butter from her fingers before it dripped onto her gown, “but it seems rather pointless.”
Frankie smiled. “The point is, as you said earlier, to see and be seen. It’s a very important ritual in the silliness of a London season but please don’t ask me why since I don’t actually have a clue.”
“All the essential rituals I have so far experienced seem very crowded,” Katrina observed, “which probably just adds to their popularity. People often act like sheep because they don’t like to think they’re missing anything.”
“That is very true. And in the case of the park, the matrons go either to exchange gossip, criticise their contemporaries’ style, or show off their daughters.”
“Such is the way with females everywhere,” Katrina said, nodding sagely. “But why do the gentlemen go?”
“To provide fodder for the gossipmongers, to please their mothers or to admire the daughters.” Frankie sighed. “It is rather pointless but I hope you have not grown tired of society’s ways already.”
“Certainly I have not. If you don’t mind, I should like to stay at least long enough to enjoy wearing all of my new gowns.”
“That we shall most certainly do. But now,” Frankie said, putting aside her empty cup and standing. “I shall rest for a while and then dress for the evening. I suggest you do the same thing. All tonnish entertainments go on until the early hours and it is wise to pace oneself.”
“By all means.” Katrina smiled up at her dear friend. “Which invitation have we accepted for this evening?” she asked, glancing at the mantelpiece crowded with cards. “How do you decide where to go when you seem to get invited everywhere?”
“One learns to become selective. A lot of people flit from one gathering to another just to make sure they’re not missing something interesting. I find that far too tiring.”
“I should as well,” Katrina agreed emphatically.
“Anyway, this evening we are for Lady Kidd’s soirée. We shall have a light supper here first and then go on. I think you will like Kitty Kidd—”
“Kitty Kidd?” Katrina covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle. “How unfortunate. Her parents clearly lacked imagination.”
“Well she wasn’t born a Kidd but married into that family so it’s, as you say, unfortunate.” Frankie’s lips quirked. “However, she is a very dear friend of mine, a patron of the arts who always has an interesting mix of people at her parties. You will enjoy it.”
“I am perfectly sure I shall,” Katrina replied, standing to kiss Frankie’s cheek and then linking her arm through hers as they ascended the stairs and headed for their respective chambers.
And so it proved to be the case. Lady Kidd was indeed charming, albeit in an unconventional manner. She wore a purple turban with a huge plume that was in danger impaling anyone foolish enough to stand too close to her. Their hostess seemed to find life in general endlessly amusing and Katrina took an immediate liking to her and to some of her equally unconventional guests. One young man dogged her footsteps, spouting his rather terrible poetry at every opportunity. But he was so charming, his puppy-dog expression so appealing, that Katrina couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stop. Another young man played the piano rather well, accompanying a lady harpist who was not quite so proficient, but nobody seemed to mind about that.
“Have you seen enough?” Frankie asked, re-joining Katrina some time later. “Or rather, should I ask if you have heard enough sonnets in praise of your eyes?”
Katrina laughed. “I appear to have inspired Mr. Gresham but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”
“Everyone wants to be Byron,” Frankie replied, rolling her eyes as she indulged her sweet tooth by helping herself to a Naples biscuit from the buffet table and nibbling delicately at it. “That wretched man has a lot to answer for.”
Katrina laughed. “I suppose he does.”
Late arrivals had all heads turning towards the door, including Katrina’s. Her pulse rate quickened when she saw a familiar dark head and heard the deep, arresting tones of a voice she recognised. She had been trying very hard not to think about the owner of that voice and had definitely not been disappointed when he didn’t appear at this gathering. As an almost engaged lady, she ought not to be thinking about other gentlemen. And indeed, she was not.
“Oh, Lord Vince is here. I did not know he was in town.”
“Lord Vince.” Katrina felt her cheeks flood with colour and disappointment smother her nervous excitement. “Oh, I see.”
“You thought it was Lord Nate?”
“No, indeed not. I did not think about it at all.” Realising she was saying too much, Katrina hastily fell silent.
“That’s Sean Trafford with him. His brother-in-law, Patrick Trafford’s grandson. I wonder what they are doing in town. They can only just have arrived but I’m not surprised that Kitty heard they were here and managed to get Mr. Trafford to attend. Since painting the duke’s portrait to such acclaim, Patrick Trafford is in much demand and anyone connected to him is highly sought after.”
The new arrivals, having greeted their hostess, were soon surrounded by others.
“He looks very like his brother,” Katrina remarked, referring to Lord Vincent.
“You should see the four of them together,” Frankie replied. “It can be rather overwhelming.”
“It seems rather unfair of Mother Nature to bless all four of them with such good looks as well as wealth and position. You’d think she would serve out her bounty more evenly than that.”
“At least they aren’t arrogant with it. Many uglier men are full of self-importance. But none of the Sheridan males take themselves too seriously. Nor does Sean Trafford. He’s very nice to look at also and has all the charm of the Irish. He is a widower with mischievous twin boys to keep him busy.” Lord Vincent raised a hand when his gaze fell upon Frankie and he and his friend moved towards them. “It seems you are about to find out for yourself.”
“Lady St. John,” Lord Vincent said, taking her hand and shaking it warmly. “An unexpected pleasure.”
“I might say the same thing of you, gentlemen. But first, allow me to present Lady Katrina Heston, who is staying with me for what I hope will be a prolonged visit. Katrina, this is Lord Vincent Sheridan and Mr. Trafford.”
Both gentlemen greeted her with warmth and all the charm she had been warned to expect.
“I am in London to negotiate with my grandfather’s agent,” Mr. Trafford explained. “I persuaded Vince to come with me. He’s far more astute than me when it comes to such matters.”
“Shall you stay in town for long, Mr. Trafford?” Katrina asked.
“We had not intended to. I cannot seem to keep Vince away from my sister for long. She couldn’t come with us. Grandfather is going through one of his vague spells and she didn’t want to leave him. However,” he added with a twinkling smile, “now that I have met you, Lady Katrina, I cannot persuade myself that there is any great need to rush back to Winchester.”
Frankie laughed. “Behave yourself, Mr. Trafford. Katrina is not yet accustomed to tonnish ways and might think you are being serious.”
Mr. Trafford widened his eyes. “Oh, but I am.”
“Shall we have the pleasure of seeing you at Sheridan House tomorrow evening, Lady St. John?” Lord Vincent asked. “My mother has insisted that Sean and I remain for her party.”
“Yes, the duchess has been kind enough to invite us both,” Frankie replied.
“Ah, then our journey has not been in vain,” Mr. Trafford said, winking at Katrina and clutching rather dramatically at his heart with both hands.
Others came to join them at that point and Katrina and Frankie became separated from the gentlemen. Katrina could hardly stop yawning at that point. She wasn’t accustomed to being out so late. Frankie noticed and insisted that they leave.
“I did warn you that it takes fortitude to survive a season,” she said, smiling at Katrina as she tried to keep her eyes open for the short journey home.
“I’m sorry if I spoiled your evening. I will get used to all the hustle and bustle, I expect.”
“You didn’t spoil it at all. I was ready to leave myself. What did you make of Mr. Trafford?”
Katrina’s smile reignited. “He is the most outrageous flirt and, as you warned me to expect, very charming. Of course I liked him.”
But he did not make my pulse race or my heart lift in the way Lord Nate so easily can.
“Come,” Frankie said, gathering up her reticule as the carriage rattled to a halt and a footman opened the door for the ladies. “You may sleep as late as you wish in the morning and regain your strength. We have no fixed engagements.”
***
Cedric hadn’t previously realised it took so much stamina to do…well, nothing. He stood outside the Park Street house Lady Katrina was residing in, thinking his luck had taken a turn for the better, given what little there was for him to do. After half an hour of loitering, trying to look inconspicuous, he had lost all feeling in his feet and was convinced his nose would never thaw out. Added to that, a whole stream of visitors called at the house and Cedric didn’t have the first idea who any of them were.
He resolved that problem by falling into conversation with their various coachmen. Being of an agreeable disposition himself, Cedric found it easy to get people to talk to him and he was soon the happy possessor of the names of all the gents who had called. He found amusement in the names. If Brown had his eye on Lady Katrina then he would have to look to his laurels. He had some fairly highly placed competition, assuming the gentlemen in question had called to see Lady Katrina that is and not the lady of the house. But if she was chaperoning Lady Katrina she had to be an old harridan, so it was safe to assume Lady Katrina was the attraction.
Cedric was now keen to have sight of the lady herself. In order for him to do so she would have to leave the house. When she did, Cedric would follow her and might actually warm up a little.
But it was not to be. A woman with two girls scurrying at her heels carrying samples of fabrics—a modiste, Cedric assumed—arrived next and stayed for an age.
Then, after the visitors had left, a carriage was brought round and the two ladies emerged from the house. Cedric forgot about the cold and let out a low whistle of appreciation when he observed an elegant blonde lady step through the door. Even from across the street and with a large hat obscuring much of her features, Cedric could tell that she was incredibly beautiful. No wonder Heston was worried about her being here alone amongst the wolves of the ton. He smiled to himself, thinking Brown’s own aspirations were definitely doomed to failure. She could do a great deal better than him.
He gave the second lady no more than a passing glance, far more interested in the angel he had been assigned to watch. He was, he told himself, nothing if not a slave to duty. Then it occurred to him that the second lady was probably younger than the first. She was also darkhaired. Lady Katrina had dark hair according to Brown so the second lady must be her.
Shaking his head, he strode into the next street, reclaimed his horse from the livery yard where he had left it, mounted up and followed the ladies’ carriage to the park. They did nothing to excite his interest. Their carriage simply followed the procession through the park, stopping frequently to acknowledge people and pass the time of day. Cedric was able to ride quite close and overhear snippets of polite social chit-chat. He was also able to confirm that Lady Katrina was a pleasing little thing. Were it not for her companion’s outstanding beauty she would seem even more remarkable.
A long cold wait ensued for Cedric near the Park Street house before the ladies went out for the evening. It had taken some ingenuity on his part to avoid being seen from the windows of the house he was watching or challenged by an occupant of the establishments he loitered outside. Fortunately, there was enough traffic in the road for him not to be visible unless someone became suspicious about his intentions.
Cedric rubbed his hands together to restore feeling to them, resolving to purchase a new pair of boots without holes in the soles and a warmer coat with some of the blunt Brown had coughed up. He followed the ladies to a fashionable house and was able to learn from the coachmen waiting outside, doing their best to keep themselves and their horses warm, that it was the home of Lady Kitty Kidd, who was apparently a patron of the arts.
Cedric had no idea who else was in attendance and it would be impossible for him to find out. Besides, he had not been asked to do so. All he did was follow the ladies’ carriage back to Park Street and, satisfied that they had returned alone, he took himself off in search of a wellearned tankard of ale and convivial feminine company. A warm body to restore feeling to his frozen limbs would be just the ticket.