The Roguish Miss Penn (25 page)

“What makes you look so sad, Katherine?”

“What? Oh, I was       She espied her brother and cousin making their way cross the lawns to where Cousin Sophia stood with Gisela. “Am I seeing things?”

Hector looked up, alert to possible fun.

Philip gave the two an impatient glance, then looked again. “It seems they have brought Gabriel.”

“Sidney is carrying a goose as well. Oh, do let’s go down to see what is going on.” Katherine extended her hand to Philip, who instantly accepted it.

He had wanted some time alone with Katherine, to help him understand these peculiar feelings that assailed him whenever he was close to her. When she had nestled in his arms after the near hit this morning, something had stirred deep within him, an emotion he’d not felt before and wanted to explore further. That she had gazed into his eyes with a look of complete trust had nearly undone him. If he’d had the chance at that moment, he’d have wrung the neck of whoever tried to murder her. He remained militantly at her side on the walk back to the garden.

“Theodore,” Cousin Sophia demanded, “what do you think you are doing?”

Katherine joined the group, with Philip close behind her. He chuckled at the sight of the elegant Sidney carrying a large white goose and looking vastly uncomfortable.

Teddy dropped Gabriel to the ground and a relieved Sidney did the same, brushing off his once-fastidious oyster-gray inexpressibles with a distressed hand.

“I say, Katherine, I do hope you appreciate what we are doing for your blasted pet,” grumbled Sidney.

“Gabriel was getting lonesome so I found him a friend,” Teddy cried, his boyish face alight with glee.

Katherine could hear Lord Ramsey chuckling softly behind her, and she succumbed to the same urge. “Oh, Teddy,” she sputtered, “I hope you are prepared for a flock of goslings, come spring. That is not a gander, you know.”

“I am well aware of that, widgeon. I felt sorry for old Gabriel. He needs something to blow his horn about, if you know what I mean.” Teddy’s eyes danced with mischievous delight.

Hector chased the geese to the pond with great enthusiasm, running in circles and barking loudly.

At that sight Lord Ramsey could no longer contain his amusement, joining in the general laughter.

“You are a dear,” Katherine said fondly, ruffling her brother’s blond curls before walking over to inspect the newcomer. “But I fear we can’t keep them at home. Perhaps,” she said with a deal of daring, “we can leave the young lady to tend Lord Ramsey’s ponds and bring Gabriel out for a visit now and again?” It would give Katherine a chance to see him, maybe. She didn’t know if that might be too painful or not, particularly if he married, as she supposed he must to get him an heir.

“Not to worry, Katherine,” Philip urged. “Allow Gabriel to enjoy his expanded horizons for a time. The lady has a name?” he added in Teddy’s direction. The female aimed for the center of the pond and proved to be an excellent swimmer.

Gabriel joined his lady fair and swam about in search of the tidbits he seemed to recall from a previous visit.

“Belle, of course,” Teddy announced with modest pride.

Which proclamation brought on a fresh round of laughter. Philip congratulated Teddy for finding a charming companion for Gabriel, especially such an intelligent-looking bird. Hector kept a vigilant watch from the grass.

They slowly ambled toward the house, Philip taking care to tuck Katherine’s arm in his. He was concerned that she not tumble, he convinced himself. And then, he added in all honesty, he truly enjoyed her closeness. Her delightful scent floated across on the late-afternoon air to tease his nose. He inhaled with gratitude, thankful she did not lean toward the heavy perfumes favored by so many ladies in the city.

“How fortunate your father was not due here for dinner, Katherine,” Gisela said as they entered the saloon. “We would have had a time explaining why we all wanted to go to town so early in the evening.”

“Nonsense. Julian knows I always go to the theater when it comes with the fair,” Cousin Sophia declared stoutly. “He would wonder if I failed to go, or for that matter, if Katherine did not pester me to go with her,” Cousin Sophia turned to Sidney. “Young man, you are to join us this evening.”

Clearly amused, he replied he would be honored to go with the ladies. Whereupon Philip said that if they expected to leave him behind, they were sadly mistaken.

Gisela chuckled, adding she had no intention of remaining to home either.

Philip was well-pleased with his sister as of late. She was in first looks, her eyes shining with contentment, an aura of happiness settling over her shoulders like a cape of sunshine. For this he thanked Julian Penn. After Gisela’s husband left, leaving her alone to face the loss of her baby, then the later news of his death, she had faded to a mere shadow of herself. Now she was more the young woman he remembered as a boy. Mr. Penn seemed to have given her a special interest in living, one badly needed.

Dinner was a gay event, with much laughing and teasing, mostly from Teddy. He was in high spirits, eager to head for the fair, anxious for the outcome of their production.

“Your scenery is first-rate design, Ramsey,” Teddy avowed. “The spy that Norwich is sure to send over will be green with envy. Just see if we don’t get a visit from their scenery men once the word gets back.”

Katherine had become oddly silent as the talk turned to the play and the evening to come. She looked about the table at the familiar and dear faces. Well, almost dear, she amended as her gaze reached Sidney. He had fitted into the household with ease. Few claims, little fuss, after his first display of moods. Yet she felt she knew him no better than that day he had arrived at the door.

At first sight she had thought he would make a good wicked count. That remembrance brought a reluctant smile to curve her lips. Instead, he had indicated he wanted to marry her. She had not encouraged him in the least, and he seemed to have given up that particular notion. She did not hold with the business of marrying cousins. Her father had once commented that it seemed to bring about bad blood.

If Lord Ramsey or anyone else observed her abstraction, nothing was said. They left the table promptly the meal was done and in short order were settled in the carriages. Teddy and Sidney went ahead in the donkey cart. Philip, Gisela, Cousin Sophia, and Katherine followed in the closed carriage.

Katherine suspected Lord Ramsey was still concerned over the villain, as he called the would-be killer. A melodrama come to life? Hardly. She thought she might write one better than this sad plot, using a hero much like Lord Ramsey, herself as the heroine, naturally. But the villain had to be someone logical, with a reason for the murder. That was the rub. She could think of no earthly motive for someone to do away with her.

Katherine was a quivering mass of nerves by the time they arrived at the theater. Her play—that silly spoof on the melodramas most people found utterly delightful—came once the comedy concluded.

“Sidney, help me to find a seat,” Cousin Sophia ordered, much to Katherine’s surprise. At the inquiry in her eyes, Sophia added, “With you and Theodore traipsing off, Gisela and I will require company.”

Since that made great sense, Katherine nodded, then hurried off to check to see that all was well with the costumes and the players.

The comedy was well-received. Katherine watched from the side of the theater, Lord Ramsey standing close behind her. She had laughed and applauded, but all the while there was a strain within her. Her play. Would it also be well-received? Would the audience understand her perspective?

There was an interval between plays, and Katherine hurried behind the curtains to see if she might be of help.

The theater was soon darkened as much as was possible, considering that the lamps must remain lit. The bracketed oil ring lamps left much to be desired. They smoked and sputtered. Katherine gave the nearest one an impatient glance, then shook out the pretty gown that Eliza O’Neill wore in the first act. Now the verdict was to come on Katherine’s play.

The twelve lamps that made up the footlights shone brightly as Eliza entered from the wings to say her first lines. The woodland set that Lord Ramsey designed looked incredibly real. Katherine almost expected a fawn to timidly peek from behind a tree.

She felt fluttery and vulnerable and leaned weakly against the strong figure that came up behind her.

“This is the least of your fears, sweet Kate.” Philip slipped an arm about her to shield her from the actors who brushed past them to enter and leave the stage.

Before she knew it, Ninian Denham had swept the fair Eliza into his arms and dramatically exited the evil count’s castle in the final scene. The curtains were drawn to thunderous applause.

“It went well, I think,” Katherine said cautiously, reluctant to leave the security of Lord Ramsey’s protecting arm for the more sensible independence of her own two feet.

“More than well, I believe. It truly shimmered with wit and charm.” Philip allowed her a measure of liberty, yet stood close enough to keep her from harm.

The cast was jubilant, predicting a profitable run for the length of Sturbridge Fair. Eliza O’Neill and Ninian Denham held an animated discussion on the final scene, each bent on improving it. Miss O’Neill’s father stood by, ever the watchful guardian.

Katherine and Philip were shortly surrounded by their families. She wished her father might have joined them, but she had little doubt as to what his reaction might have been. She contented herself with praise from Cousin Sophia and Gisela, not to mention Teddy’s elated words.

They strolled from the theater, leaving instructions for the following day. Philip had hired two rugged men as guards. Not knowing what the villain had in mind, he felt it best to play everything safe.

Katherine and Cousin Sophia entreated the others to join them for a cup of tea. Philip swept everyone into the house; then, with a wink, he ordered Mrs. Moore to bring on the refreshments.

Astounded, Katherine could only sit with her mouth ajar as the housekeeper and a maid brought trays of biscuits and meringues, dainty sandwiches, bottles of fine wine and champagne. Mrs. Moore placed the display on a low table with a proud flourish, then paused to fuss with a sprig of parsley while offering a word of congratulations to Katherine from the staff.

“I say, Ramsey,” bubbled Teddy as the champagne worked its magic on him, “this is capital stuff. Simply capital!”

Katherine sat in quiet joy, feasting her eyes on the faces so dear to her. Cousin Sophia was actually jolly, her biting remarks tempered. Gisela glowed with inner happiness. Teddy was jubilant. Philip? Well, he was hard to understand. At last her gaze strayed to Cousin Sidney. He sipped his fine wine with a connoisseur’s pleasure. He seemed agreeable. Once the excitement of the play was behind her, she fully intended to write Great-aunt Harriette to find out what his story might be.

On the far side of the room, Philip watched his Katherine. She sat quietly in her chair, modest, unassuming, her wide smile encompassing all. Her beautiful eyes shimmered with pleasure, while her slender hands toyed with a glass of champagne. She seemed to glow, radiate a sensual joy.

With a jolt he realized what that peculiar feeling he had experienced when he was around her must be: he had fallen in love with his little maid of the pond. This certainly was an unexpected development to his country visit. Yet it was welcome. His parents would be pleased he had found a proper young lady. If they but knew the inner, more provocative side to her. It would be a distinct pleasure to marry her, have a family with her, travel, live a lifetime with her at his side.

He wanted to be her hero, not only to defend her from that Bedlamite who wished to murder her, but also to keep her to himself for the rest of their lives. There was so much to learn about her, so much they might explore together.

Visions of trips to Paris and Italy to study the theater sprang to mind. London, of course. She hadn’t been that far as yet. He fully intended to rectify that.

But first he must take care of the villain.

Reluctance to break up the party was best expressed when Cousin Sophia hiccuped softly and said, “This is ever so lovely, but tomorrow is upon us. We all need our sleep.”

Philip knew no desire for sleep, but could hardly remain. With good grace, he helped his sister with her pelisse, his gaze lingering on Katherine.

“Good night all,” Katherine caroled as the last of the guests left the house. She bid Sidney and Teddy good night, then went up the stairs with Cousin Sophia.

“It was delightful, my dear. I knew it would be. So like you, you know,” Cousin Sophia said with her odd sort of logic.

It wasn’t easy to fall asleep. Katherine kept her candle burning a long time. At one point she thought she heard a noise outside her door, but when she softly called to see who it might be, only silence followed. Then she heard her father coming up the stairs and she relaxed. Surely she could sleep in peace now that he was home. Without examining her reasoning, she closed her eyes to snuggle beneath the covers.

The next day Katherine slept in. When his lordship stopped by the house, Cousin Sophia informed him that she doubted if the girl would get up very early.

Philip set off for the fair, almost glad that Katherine would be safe in her bed instead of prowling about the grounds with him. He intended to do a bit of detection work, to see what he might uncover.

The archery butts and arrows were gone today; no trace remained that they had ever been at the end of the row. Philip stood, amazed that such could happen so quickly. He strolled along the lane, peering at the contents of the various booths while keeping his ears sharply attuned to what was said about him. He learned nothing of interest.

The price of workman’s shirts was up. Turnips were down. A new, improved plow was being touted as the best yet. There was a horse that fair promised to beat them all coming on the block today, the final day of the horse sale.

He paused to quench his thirst at the coffee house the group had patronized yesterday. Coffee helped him keep alert, and he badly needed that. He settled on a chair in a corner so he might watch and listen, tilting his hat over his eyes and slouching down so as to better disguise his identity. He’d chosen to dress simply, as a rural visitor might. He didn’t resemble his usual sartorial elegance in the least.