Virginia Henley (8 page)

The first person Catherine encountered at Hunsdon Hall was Beth Spencer, her father’s plump, blond sister, who was married to George Carey. “Hello, Aunt Beth.”

“Catherine, don’t you dare call me
aunt;
it makes me sound positively ancient!”

Cat dimpled. “Sorry, Beth; it was Mother’s idea.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “She has more rules and regulations than the queen herself. I shall have a word with her.”

“Cat, darling, you look exquisite as usual.” Philadelphia kissed her cheek. “I warrant this is one of your own designs.”

“Yes, it is. I’ve brought you a dozen sketches. You can decide for yourself which you like.”

“How lovely. Let me introduce you to my friend Liz Widdrington. Liz, this is Lady Catherine, who has designed some of the queen’s most spectacular gowns.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Liz. Please call me Cat. You have such beautiful hair. I’ve never seen that unusual shade before.”

“Why, thank you. I like to think of it as burgundy. I have to be careful about the colors I wear, so they don’t clash.”

“It’s evident you have a keen fashion sense and know exactly what suits you. Your jade velvet truly compliments your hair.”

“I am surrounded by beautiful ladies.”

Cat spun toward the familiar voice. “Robert! I had no idea you would be here. You look so ... rugged. Patrolling the Borders has given you a tan. You have quite lost your fashionable courtier’s pallor.”

“Thank God for that. At the English Court you can hardly tell the males from the females.”

“Oh, I think you underestimate our little Cat. I’ve taught her an infallible way to tell the males from the females, as well as the men from the boys.” Philadelphia’s laugh was most suggestive.

Robert kissed her cheek. “I think your bawdy sense of humor is the reason you are my favorite sister.”

“Ah, so Philadelphia is your favorite, is she?” Kate swept in and playfully boxed her brother Robert’s ear.

“My favorite sister, after
you,
Kate!” Robert said, laughing.

Cat looked at them all fondly. She always felt extremely happy when she was in the midst of this warm, loving family.

“Ah, here comes my guest now,” Robert announced. “I won’t tell you who he is—I want you to guess.”

Cat’s head snapped up and her mouth fell open as a tall figure stepped into the room. He was bathed and shaved, and a fine linen shirt had replaced the sheepskin, but the uncivilized brute male was still evident beneath the thin veneer of respectability.

Every head in the room was turned toward him in undisguised admiration. Philadelphia held out her hands to him. “It’s as if the legendary Earl of Bothwell himself were standing before us.”

Cat watched in amazement as the dark devil took Philadelphia’s hands and gallantly kissed them. “My father could never deny my paternity, I’m afraid. You must be Lady Scrope. Though I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting you before, I’ve had dealings with your husband on many occasions.”

“My condolences, Lord Stewart!”

“Your droll wit is exceeded only by your beauty, my lady. I would be honored if you would address me as Patrick.”

“This is my sister Kate Howard, Countess of Nottingham, though we don’t hold that against her.”

Kate placed her hands in his. “Welcome to London, Patrick. I must confess that when we were girls, my sister and I were both madly in love with your father. When he visited the English Court as Admiral of Scotland we sighed over him, and then we dreamed of him for months after he left.”

“He’s an earl’s son?” Cat asked Liz in disbelief.

Robert introduced his brother’s wife. “Allow me to present Lady Carey, who is more like a sister than a sister-in-law.”

Cat’s plump aunt turned kittenish when Patrick kissed her fingers. “Please call me Beth, your lordship.”

“You met Liz Widdrington this morning, Patrick,” Robert continued, “so let me introduce—”

“The gamekeeper’s child. We met in the woods.” Patrick’s black eyes flicked over Catherine with scant interest, but he gave Robert a broad wink to show that he was jesting.

Cat was stunned. With his first three words he had managed to insult her twice. To add injury to his insults, he had made everyone laugh at her. She suddenly realized that he was paying her back for the insults she had heaped upon him this morning.

Robert took her hand and drew her forward. “The most exquisite gamekeeper’s child in Richmond, Catherine Seton Spencer.”

Patrick nodded politely but deliberately placed his hands behind his back, refusing to touch her. Though he immediately turned away from her and gave his attention to the other ladies, Cat consumed his thoughts.
Catherine Seton Spencer! No wonder my first vision of her came while I was at Seton. She’s the Earl of Winton’s granddaughter, and heiress to his lands. Splendor of God, Destiny has taken you by the hand today, Hepburn! And didn’t Robert mention a niece who’d inherited Spencer lands in Hertford? ’Tis a match made in heaven.
Patrick grinned as he felt the beauty’s eyes furiously boring a hole in his back.
Or perhaps a match made in hell. Either way, I have no complaints!

Catherine linked her arm through Robert’s and drew him aside. “His father may have been an earl and an admiral, but your friend is unrefined, uncouth and uncivilized.”

“As a matter of fact, he is better educated than most gentlemen of the English Court. He attended the universities of Edinburgh, Cambridge and Rome.”

“Ah, is that what makes him so damned arrogant?”

“No, I believe that comes from confidence in his own ability, coupled with his royal blood. And I’d far rather have him as my friend than my enemy, Catherine.”

Cat shuddered. “Well, I’d rather have him in Scotland.”

Robert grinned at her vehemence. “Most ladies find him irresistible.”

“Thank God I’m not a lady!”

“Speaking of ladies, what do you think of Liz?”

“I think she’s extremely attractive.”

“Well, she certainly attracts me.”

“Then go and put your brand on her before the
irresistible
Lord Stewart stakes his claim.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were obsessed with him.”

Once he left her side, Cat felt a little forlorn. She watched from afar as the attractive widow welcomed Robert’s solicitude, while the other three ladies in the room basked in the attention of the dark, devilish Scot. She was used to being the center of attraction when she visited Hunsdon Hall. Tonight, however, she felt almost invisible. Cat was actually relieved when her mother arrived, but Isobel too ignored her and joined the circle of ladies clustered about the loutish lord from Scotland.

She saw her case of sketches lying forgotten on a table and decided to whisk it up to Philadelphia’s bedchamber before her mother’s eagle eye spotted it. She managed to slip from the room unnoticed but could not resist the impulse to crash the door closed after her.

Patrick smiled with satisfaction.
My strategy is working. The little hellcat just slammed the door to get my attention!

Chapter Five

F
or Catherine, dinner was an exercise in frustration as the two male guests received the lion’s share of attention. Kate directed the servants to proffer the dishes to Patrick and Robert before serving the ladies. Cat had a dainty appetite and was astonished at the amount of food the Scot consumed. All at the table were having a marvelous time eating, laughing and conversing—all except Cat, who sat in silence, making no effort to hide her dislike and disapproval. Unfortunately, no one seemed to notice.

Philadelphia invited their guests to attend the Court masque on Saturday evening but made no mention of the fact that Cat had designed many of the costumes and was to play the role of the Moon Goddess, Cynthia. The impulsive need to say something outrageous suddenly overwhelmed her. Cat drained her wine glass and narrowed her eyes to slits. “Lord Stewart, I hope you are aware that sheepskins are inappropriate attire at Queen Elizabeth’s Court?”

A hush descended and all heads turned toward her.

“Lady Catherine, I regret that my sheepskin offended you when we met in the woods this morning.” The heads swiveled toward him.

“It was not the sheepskin that offended me,” Cat said sweetly. “It was the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Did you have a successful hunt, my lord?” All present awaited the answer.

“I sighted my quarry, but instead of moving in for the kill I deliberately allowed it to escape. The undersized doe was so afraid, she presented no challenge to a seasoned hunter.”

Undersized, am I, you insulting lout?
“I quite agree it would be more sporting to pick on something your own size. Trouble is, you are unnaturally large. Perhaps not quite a giant, but I would certainly describe you as a
bruising brute.
”

Kate interrupted before Cat decided to scratch his eyes out. “Why don’t we go into the other room for an after-dinner drink? I believe we have some fine Scotch whisky.”

The men got to their feet and allowed the ladies to lead the way. Catherine swept past Patrick with her chin in the air.

“Hellcat.” He spoke softly so only she could hear.

“Hellhound!” she retaliated, loud enough for all to hear.

Isobel Spencer was incensed at her daughter’s show of bad manners. She gripped Cat’s arm and squeezed cruelly. “You will make your excuses and leave immediately,” she hissed.

Cat blushed warmly and cursed her impulsive tongue. As the drinks were being poured, she said, “No more wine for me, thank you. I shall bid you all good night, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course, darling.” Philadelphia gave her a speculative look. “We shall see you tomorrow.”

“Sweet dreams, Lady Catherine,” Patrick said softly.

She looked across the room. Their eyes met and held for a moment. His were challenging; hers were defiant.
Go to hell, Lord Bloody Stewart!

 

Hours later, Patrick stood at his window staring across at the house next door, absently fingering a length of white satin ribbon. His senses were still saturated by the scent of the lilac she had worn in her hair. Catherine Spencer rejected everything about him: his size, his looks, his clothes, his manners, his personality and his nationality—especially his nationality. How ironic that he found everything about her utterly irresistible: her size, her beauty, her clothes, her impulsiveness, her reckless courage and her inheritance—especially her inheritance. His mouth curved in a rare smile.
She is the challenge of a lifetime!

In spite of her fastidious aversion to him, Patrick had complete confidence in his ability to make her his wife. It made little difference to him that she would be unwilling. He was much closer in his quest than he had been a week ago, for now he had met and marked his prey. All he had to do was lure her to his bait and capture her unaware. The taming could come later.

“Sweet dreams, Lady Catherine,” Patrick said softly.

Cat hovered on the edge of sleep. Nothing had gone as she had expected tonight. That was the fault of the intruder, of course. It had been a great shock to see him at Hunsdon Hall and jolting to learn that he was the son of the
Devil Earl,
as the infamous outlaw Bothwell was called. She was amazed that Robert counted him a friend. If he wasn’t careful, the devious swine would pluck the lovely widow from under his very nose and devour her.

When she was sent home, Cat had intended to catalog her grievances to a sympathetic Maggie so that she could pour soothing balm on her wounds, but her champion had been abed and Cat’s conscience wouldn’t allow her to disturb her old nurse.

Upstairs, she had kicked off her shoes, then leaned on the windowsill and gazed down into the darkened gardens. Already she regretted her impulsive tongue, which had banned her from being with the people she loved best. It would have been far better if she had smiled sweetly and ignored Patrick Hepburn. Her brows drew together.
How the hell do you ignore a seven-foot barbarian?