Follow the Heart (36 page)

She nodded, unable to translate a coherent thought into words.

“And it does not come as a surprise to me that you have expressed . . . romantic sentiment toward Mr. Lawton.” He swiped his hand across his eyes as if trying to wipe something from his memory. “I saw you with him and heard you speak of him, too often not to realize you had formed an attachment.”

“I never wanted to deceive you, Stephen.” Her voice crackled as she forced the words out. “And I never meant to develop feelings for Andrew—Mr. Lawton. My duty in coming to England has always been clear. And that duty means that it does not matter if I have developed an affection for him. There is no future for me with Mr. Lawton. I told him so when I saw him. I am not certain what Edith thinks she saw—or what someone told her was seen—but the kiss I shared with Mr. Lawton this morning was one of farewell. I could ask for your forgiveness for the pain and humiliation I have caused you by that action, but I do not deserve it.”

Kate dropped her gaze back to her hands, clasped in her lap. She picked at a loose thread in the lace mittens, and it started unraveling. Just like her life.

Without another word, Stephen stood and left the room again. Kate leaned her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands. He would never forgive her. The engagement was over, and Kate would have to return to Philadelphia in shame and try to explain to her father why they would lose everything. All because she could not control herself around Andrew Lawton.

She looked up at a noise at the door—then sat up straight, dropping her hands to her lap when Stephen entered with Sir Anthony.

Her uncle sank into his chair again, only now curiosity had replaced resignation and anxiety in his expression.

Stephen stood behind the chair directly across the table from Kate. “Katharine, when I spoke to your brother of my intention to propose marriage to you, I told him that I wanted to marry you because I am
not
in love with you. Nor did I believe then that you were in love with me—which has been proven. You have just told me that your . . . indiscretion with Mr. Lawton this morning was by way of saying farewell. I take that to mean that you do not intend to see him ever again. Is that correct?”

All of the air left Kate’s lungs. Hearing Stephen say it—that she would never see Andrew again—made her nausea return. But she nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you still wish to marry me?” Stephen held the newels at the top of his chair in fists so tight, Kate expected to see them reduced to sawdust at any moment.

Tears flooded her eyes. Regret, relief, remorse, recrimination all vied for dominance. “If you will still have me, my lord, yes. But . . . why? Why would you still want to marry me after what I’ve done?”

Stephen sighed and began pacing again. “I am forty years old. I am Viscount Thynne, member of Parliament, peer of the realm. My elder brother died childless after two unhappy marriages. My younger brother has made many choices—not the least of which is his marriage to a commoner, the daughter of a soldier—which make him ill-suited to be the next viscount should anything happen to me. So I must take a wife.”

He stopped behind his chair again, his expression resigned. “I have not the stamina nor the patience to try to make a woman fall in love with me. You have been honest—mostly honest—with me from the beginning. You did not hide your family’s financial situation from me, and I respect that. Yes, many will mock me for marrying a fortune seeker, but I do so with my eyes wide open, rather than being manipulated and led to believe it is a love match only to learn of the deception after the wedding, as many men do. There is not anything else you need to reveal to me, is there?” He raised his left brow, his thin lips pressed together.

“No, nothing else, my lord.”

He looked put out with her use of his title again, but with Sir Anthony as witness, she would not be so presumptuous as to call him by his Christian name.

“Obviously, we will now have to wait to marry until the gossip dies down. The announcement of our engagement will be printed in the
Times
tomorrow as planned—’tis too late to stop it now. But rather than marrying in May, I shall go to Argentina sometime in the next week to conduct my business there. If you agree to my terms and keep them, then upon my return, we shall marry.”

Kate’s heart thudded. “Terms?”

“Yes.” Stephen looked at her uncle. “Sir Anthony, this is why I asked you to come back in, so that you can serve as witness.”

Sir Anthony nodded. “Shall I fetch pen and parchment to write it down?”

“No. I trust that a spoken agreement will suffice.”

Kate nodded. The last thing she wanted to do was sign a contract, official or not. But she would, if it meant Stephen would still help her family.

“Good. Then let us begin.”

The mournful tune Andrew whistled died on his lips at the sight of a footman standing at the back gate into the Buchanans’ garden.

“Sir Anthony wishes to see you.” With no further ceremony, the footman marched through the garden and into the house. He did not stop at the door of the study but went all the way to the door into the front parlor.

Andrew walked past him into the room, frowning. He had just spoken with Sir Anthony yesterday about the progress on the garden. What could be so urgent as to require such a sudden beckoning?

Sir Anthony stood beside the fireplace. Miss Buchanan sat in a throne-like chair flanking him. Andrew’s scalp tingled.

“Andrew, though it pains me to do so, I have hard questions to put to you before I come to a decision.” For the first time since Andrew met him, Sir Anthony looked old and tired.

What questions? What decision? He said nothing—especially given the hint of a smile playing about Edith’s pursed lips.

“Edith, tell him what you told us last night.”

Hands folded in her lap, Edith gave her father a sweet smile. “Before Mr. Lawton and Cousin Christopher came to London in February, my maid, enjoying a walk in the park on her Sunday afternoon off, saw Mr. Lawton and Miss Dearing enter the folly near the fountain pond. The door was closed, so my maid peeked through the window to make sure Miss Dearing was not in any danger. She witnessed this man and Cousin Katharine in a passionate embrace. As Lord Thynne had not yet started courting Katharine in earnest, I thought I would keep my cousin’s secret. However, I myself saw Katharine and Mr. Lawton in a similar passionate embrace in the garden here just yesterday. Yesterday—the day Katharine knew her betrothal to Lord Thynne was being announced. On that very day, she engaged in compromising behavior—”

“That is quite enough, Edith. You may leave us now.” Sir Anthony waited until his eldest daughter’s footfalls disappeared up the stairs out in the entry hall before he broke his pose and showed his agitation. “I cannot believe this is happening. First Christopher goes off and elopes with the governess, and without asking my leave. But for his station in life—as a working man—a woman like Nora Woodriff suits.”

Yes, Christopher had come to Andrew yesterday to tell him of the elopement before going to the station to purchase their train tickets to return to Manchester today. But what did that have to do with Edith’s spying on Kate and seeing her kissing Andrew?

“Do you deny what Edith says?”

To protect Kate’s reputation, to allow her to have the marriage she needed to support her family, Andrew almost lied. But no doubt Kate would have told them the truth. Wait . . . why wasn’t she here, facing the accusation with him? “Where’s Kate?”

Sir Anthony’s brows shot up. “You presume to call her by her familiar name?”

“Where is she? What have you done with her?” Andrew took a step forward, then stopped. Threatening physical repercussions would not help him at all in this situation.

“I have done nothing with her. After Edith revealed at dinner—in front of all of my guests!—how my niece had been compromised by the landscape designer I hired, Katharine admitted to the truth. She is . . . she left this house an hour ago.”

“Where did she go?” He needed to find her. Kate had told them the truth—that she had feelings for Andrew and couldn’t marry Stephen Brightwell. She was no longer engaged to be married to another man. His heart raced with anticipation. He could not offer her the riches of Thynne, but a poor husband was better than no husband, which is what she’d have if her situation became widely known.

“Do you deny you compromised my niece?”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours.” Andrew crossed his arms.

Sir Anthony looked as if he would continue to argue, then deflated and sank into the chair Edith had vacated. “Andrew, please. Do I not deserve the truth from you?”

Andrew’s breathing hitched. His respect for the baronet made the words tumble from his mouth. “I did not compromise your niece. We kissed, twice. Once in the garden folly—we were trapped due to the storm outside, and I was trying to convince her that I loved her. The second was yesterday, when I came upon her in the garden to wish her joy in her marriage to Lord Thynne. It was a farewell kiss, nothing more.” It had been a farewell kiss . . . oh, but so much more.

Sir Anthony rubbed his forehead. “I cannot tell you where Miss Dearing is. Lord Thynne is making arrangements to leave for Argentina next week to conclude some business there. When he comes back in two months, if in that time Katharine has stayed where we sent her—away from you and your seeming intent to ruin her reputation—he will marry her as planned. If she leaves that place and is seen in your company, Lord Thynne will withdraw his offer of marriage . . . and the generous financial settlement he planned to give her father. A future viscountess can have no hint of scandal about her.”

“And Kate agreed to that?” Andrew took a deep breath and moderated his tone. Yelling, like physical violence, would get him nowhere. “She will still marry him after all of this?”

“Perhaps you do not understand the severity of her family’s need.”

“I don’t understand? My mother died in the poorhouse when I was twelve years old. If anyone understands a dire financial situation, I do.” And Kate had once again shown she would choose her family over her own happiness—now even over her own honor and dignity. Andrew pounded his fist against his palm.

Could he be the loving, forbearing man of yesterday, understanding and supporting her choice to help her family? Or would he be the unreasonable, jealous Andrew of the garden, losing his temper and accusing Kate of treachery?

Kate had made her choice. Andrew must make his. “I will stay away from her. I will not interfere again. I will have no contact with her.”

“Not even secretly, through her brother? I know you and he have grown close.”

“Not even through Christopher.”

Sir Anthony bobbed his head. “Good. You will finish the job on the back garden within the week. At the end, you will have your promised payment. However, I will hold on to the letter of reference I wrote for you until after Katharine’s wedding. It seems only fitting I have some measure to ensure you stay away and do not interfere, do you not agree?”

Andrew swallowed his anger. “Yes, sir, I agree.”

“And I do not think you will be surprised to learn that Lord Thynne has hired another architect to design his gardens.”

No surprise there. Andrew had not wanted to work for him anyway. “Until I receive the letter of reference, what am I supposed to do?”

Sir Anthony looked truly sorrowful. “That is up to you. But so long as you stay away from Katharine, I will do what I can to help you, short of giving you a reference. As you and my niece are both coming to learn, your future can be either built or ruined on your reputation.”

Reputation. For someone like Andrew, his livelihood depended on cultivating a good one. He couldn’t believe God would allow him to fall in love with Kate if it meant destroying any chance at building his career.

“Be thankful you live in this modern age, Mr. Lawton. In my grandfather’s time, a man of Stephen Brightwell’s status could—and most likely would—have you transported to Australia for something like this.”

From everything Andrew had read in his life, Australia had very interesting and unique flora. Perhaps transportation would not be a bad option—if Kate were sent with him. If only things were done that way still.

He bowed to the baronet. “I will follow Lord Thynne’s rules. And the day after his wedding, I will be here to collect my letter of reference. Good day.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
IX

K
ate hated rain. She hated fog. She hated London. She hated Mrs. Headington. And she most especially hated Headington House for Wayward Women.

“I never would have suspected. Mousy little thing you were when I saw you on that ship.” Mrs. Headington clasped her fingers over her ample abdomen and rocked back in the desk chair. Its mechanics groaned in protest. “And everything I heard about you when I was visiting my sister in Philadelphia, how the men would not go near you because of your dour expressions and penchant for serious conversation. You, a wayward woman!” The woman clucked her teeth and shook her head.