The Roguish Miss Penn (15 page)

Wishing she might have the privilege of kicking her brother on the ankle or any other available spot, Katherine clenched her teeth while hoping that Amelia Bonner did not have the crust to intrude upon what was, after all, an invitation not extended to her.

Amelia tilted her head, rising from her chair with a show of reluctance. Her fifteen minutes, the time allotted for a social call, were up. “I shall go to chapel tomorrow. But perhaps later . . ." . . She curtsied to them all in a very pretty manner.

Teddy elected to escort her to the front door.

Katherine devoutly hoped that her brother redeemed himself by reminding Melly of the bargain she had made.

* * * *

If Mr. Penn was astonished by the arrival of a nephew he could not in the least recall, it was not evident in his manner. He was all graciousness, even as he assured Katherine and Theodore that he would welcome the visit to Fairfax Hall on the morrow following divine services.

Katherine hoped for the best and prayed the worst would not occur. Perhaps Mrs. Cheney would approve of Papa’s sermon. And the fish in the river might fly by then as well, Katherine reflected.

Cousin Sophia took her aside following dinner, while the gentlemen remained at the dining table to exchange stories and sip the excellent port Julian Penn had stored up. “What shall you do?”

“I do not know for sure. He could not show up at a worse time,” Katherine cried softly in vexation. Another month and she would have been free to do as she pleased, without the play to worry about. “I should not like him bearing tales back to Aunt Harriette. Although I have never met the lady., I have quite enjoyed her letters over the years. She has a delightful wit.” Not to mention wicked. Katherine had always managed to conceal those letters from the rest of the family.

“Hm.” Cousin Sophia seemed to be searching her brain for something. “We had best keep him occupied. When you must go to the hall, I shall take him about. If that Amelia Bonner shows up, I shall make a point to be along. Anything to further your cause, dear girl.”

The look of astonishment on Katherine’s face delighted Cousin Sophia, for she chuckled heartily. “I know full well what was going on in your mind. I merely thought to dampen the sugar a bit, you see. It would never do to make him think we pushed you at his head.”

“Of course not,” Katherine murmured, agreeing completely with that notion. “Tomorrow will be a test of sorts. Good heavens,” she suddenly declared. “He will be with us at the hall. I had best warn Lord Ramsey and Mrs. Cheney.” Katherine always referred to them by their correct titles to others, even though she had been invited to be more informal. It had never seemed proper to her to be so familiar. It seemed to her that Philip was a good deal inclined to levity and failed to bestow his position with proper consequence. Then, as she turned from Cousin Sophia and crossed to the sofa, she realized she had been thinking about Lord Ramsey as Philip for several days now. It would never do, of course. But there appeared little harm in it as long as she contained her foolish daydreams to herself.

Katherine ought to have known that Cousin Sidney would fade in comparison once he got near the elegance of Lord Ramsey. When the two met just before services the next day, she could see immediately that Sidney’s collar points were too high, that that clever nip in his waist was a bit too much, and that his manners, which she had thought so nice today, were overly unctuous. He simply could not hold a candle to Philip. Drat it all, anyway.

Nonetheless, Katherine bestowed a sugary smile on Lord Ramsey while clinging to Cousin Sidney’s arm for dear life.

“You must join us after services, Mr. Exton,” Gisela said in a cordial manner while she glanced from him to Katherine and back again.

Remembering the need to caution Lord Ramsey, Katherine managed to get next to him as they strolled into the pretty little church. While Sidney paused to admire the perfectly splendid monument to one of the Fairfax ancestors, she whispered to Lord Ramsey to exercise all care when around Sidney. She wanted no more complications and certainly no talebearing.

“Dear girl, what do you take me for? A flat? I am well aware of the need for secrecy. How shall you manage with him under your nose . . . so to speak?”

“I do not know,” she confessed. “Why did he have to turn up now?” she murmured, thus ruining her pretense of a flirtation.

Lord Ramsey beamed a smile at her that shook her to her toes. Then the organ began to play and they all took their seats. Katherine braced herself when her father rose to speak. She was delightfully surprised when he addressed the small congregation more like friends, or at least like people he had met once or twice. His message was simple and appeared straight from the heart. Cousin Sophia stayed awake, listening with all evidence of amazement.

Following the service, they waited for Mr. Penn to join them. Gisela looked exceedingly smug and Katherine said so. Or at least she implied it to her.

“I have had a word or two with your father this past week. He did very well, did he not?” Gisela resembled nothing so much as a proud mother hen.

Cousin Sophia poked Katherine in the back, whereupon Katherine closed her mouth. She gave the older lady an indignant glance, but Sophia was all innocence.

The small group strolled across the beautiful lawns up to the hall, where Kendall appeared to open the doors for them. Katherine marveled that he didn’t seem out of breath, which, considering he must have run all the way up from church to get there ahead of them, was amazing.

Gisela took charge of things. “Come all, let us go to the saloon while we await our dinner.” She drifted across the entrance hall after leaving her shawl with Kendall. She beckoned to Sidney Exton and the flattered young man scurried after her.

“Well, how does it go on so far?”

Katherine watched Gisela charm Sidney right out of his boots, and she tried to veil her annoyance. Was every other woman in the world more able to weave a spell than herself’?

Recalling the question, she shrugged slightly. “He has the second-best bedroom and seems annoyed there is no footman to wait upon his requests. I gather he manages well enough without a valet, although I would have sworn he was accustomed to the services of one,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she studied her cousin.

“And?” he prodded.

“I arranged for Melly to show him about town. I wish I could see them when she takes him to King’s College Chapel. She knows every eligible young man in town and there ought to be a veritable crush when they espy her, escort or no escort.” Katherine chuckled at the very notion of the scene.

“What are his interests?”

At this query Katherine frowned. “Do you know, I have no idea. So far he has made a point of fawning over my hand and smiling at me. Poor Teddy gets scant attention.”

Lord Ramsey grinned at Katherine and she felt all soft and warm inside for at least one full minute.

“He is playing it close to the chest, I see. Do you believe his talk about coming because he wants to get acquainted with his newly discovered cousin?”

“Well,” she said consideringly, “he did say that he had heard all about me from Aunt Harriette, and that sounds a plumper, for she never mentioned him to me. Yet Cousin Sophia claims he looks just like his father, the one who lost so much money on the Exchange.”

“I still cannot believe you are the daughter of an esteemed doctor of divinity,” he mused softly, although Katherine heard him quite plainly, standing as close as they were now.

“It is the lack of a mother, or so Cousin Sophia declares. Have pity on me and help me think of something.”

“If worse comes to worst you shall have to tell him the truth and swear him to secrecy.”

“Like Melly? Heaven help us.”

Chapter 9

The view out toward the Gothic Tower had never been lovelier, Katherine decided. Strolling across the saloon, she left the dangerously tempting company of Lord Ramsey to stand by herself for a moment. After one of his wicked little conversations, she felt the need for restoration. Alas, her ploy did not succeed. He followed her.

“You seem drawn to the scene of your crime. Tell me, how is your pet, er—Gabriel, it is not?” The bland voice held that curious tone once again, and it got Katherine’s back up. Teasing her, was he?

When Katherine turned her head, mildly exasperated that she couldn’t flee his presence, she found herself trapped by his eyes, those warm gray pools of silver. “It was never a crime, precisely,” she corrected. “I felt quite certain you would not mind if I picked a few wildflowers that were destined to die shortly anyway. It is not as though I was pilfering from a prize garden.” She sniffed, then added, “Gabriel is in fine fettle and a more troublesome pet I could not imagine. Unless it was a bird that persisted in molting forever and a day.”

She discovered a silly urge to giggle when she espied that mischievous look in those eyes of his. What a scandalously insouciant man he was, at least most of the time. Never would she become accustomed to that wicked streak in a man after the solemn and rather dull sort of gentlemen she encountered at home and at the college. Yet it might be an intriguing area to explore.

“When do you bring the remainder of the cast out to begin their joint rehearsal? I cannot like your spending so much time alone with Mr. Denham, with only your aunt for a companion.” Those eyes cooled abruptly and his beautiful mouth firmed with his resolution.

Angry at his assumptions, yet mindful of the need to appease the sponsor of the production, who, after all, had a right to make comments, she said, “I cannot for the life of me think why anything Mr. Denham does ought to disturb you. He is a gentleman at all times. And,” she continued, “there is no earthly reason for you to keep popping in every few minutes to see how we go on. It quite destroys the mood, if you must know.”

“And what mood is that, pray tell?” There was an oily smoothness to this question that ought to have cautioned her.

Katherine ignored that dangerous note in his voice. She had grown accustomed to it these past days, for it seemed to creep in rather often. “Well, the hero is supposed to be in love with Belinda. It is utterly distracting when Mr. Denham is trying to wax poetic over my limp hand and then you interrupt.”

“Over your limp hand? Why is your hand limp?”

He was merely curious now, she noted, relieved and yet piqued. Without giving a great deal of thought to her reply, Katherine said, “Because it is the greatest rubbish in the world, all those silly words I wrote for the hero to gush at poor Belinda,” she replied with her usual honesty.

“Rubbish?” Had she kept her gaze fastened upon Lord Ramsey, Katherine would have observed that sparkle return to his eyes once again.

Having returned her attention to the Gothic Tower, she nodded, “Rubbish. A woman would be foolish beyond permission to accept that spurious lovemaking for more than what it is, which is utter nonsense. I scarce have patience with the silly geese.”

“You do not find the words of love to be appealing? How do you think a woman ought to be wooed in that case?”

“Oh,” she replied, not meeting his gaze, “flowery effusions are meaningless. It is what is done that truly matters. If a gentleman feels great affection for a lady, he ought to demonstrate it with actions, not mere words. A kiss on the hand offers little by way of consolation.”

“I must remember that,” he murmured.

At least Katherine thought that was what he said, for his words were faint as he turned to greet Sidney Exton. She was left to mull over her unguarded conversation with Philip, scolding herself for allowing him to draw her out on the subject. He had the oddest ability to lure Katherine to speak her mind without due caution. She glanced across the room to where Cousin Sophia watched. The older lady wore a contented, if doting, smile.

Gisela motioned Katherine to her side. “Philip tells me he has gone out to the fair site to inspect the location for the theater booth. It is a generous space on Cheese Row just off Garlic Row. Does that meet with your approval?” Her voice was soft but clear.

“Actually it is quite good.” Katherine smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. It annoyed her that Lord Ramsey must make these arrangements even as she knew full well that she could not, for it would surely reveal her involvement. In a town the size of Cambridge, the news would be abroad in hours.

“I trust my little Katherine is proving to be a help in your project for the poor children, Mrs. Cheney,” Julian Penn said as he joined the two women where they stood near the fireplace.

For a moment both looked blank. Then Gisela smiled, nodded graciously. “I believe we shall have the plans for the school well in hand by the time we are done. Of course my brother will design a building for the school. It remains for us to find a teacher.”

Recalling what Philip had said, Katherine inserted, “One who is biddable and yet able to handle young people well, I fancy.”

“Indeed,” Gisela replied with a whimsical expression entering her eyes as she glanced toward Katherine.

Lest she succumb to a serious case of the whoops, Katherine turned the subject to the weather, always a safe topic, and extricated Gisela and herself from dangerous waters.

When it came time for the Sunday dinner usually served at Fairfax Hall following divine services, Katherine was surprised to find Mr. Exton—or Cousin Sidney, as he insisted she call him—at her elbow.

“I claim your company, dear cousin,” he said with warm civility. He turned to Lord Ramsey with a nice deference, adding, “It is a pleasant thing to discover I have so attractive a relative, sir. We are fast becoming close, er, friends.” Sidney beamed a proprietary smile at her.

Katherine flashed an amused look at Sidney, thinking how far he seemed from her first image of him as the evil count. He was a harmless fribble, even if he persisted in flattering her with attentions she was not quite certain she wished. How quickly she had revised her initial perception of him, particularly after comparing him with Lord Ramsey.

“Indeed, Cousin Sidney is all that is gallant,” she responded to his kind words. She was aware that as a tribute it was questionable, for if she truly felt him worthy, she would have referred to him as civil—or, at the very least, amiable. Even if he weren’t aware of the subtle distinctions in manners, she most definitely was. She suspected that Lord Ramsey was too, when she caught sight of that naughty gleam in his eyes.