“He would probably keep himself well-hidden,” Lord Barton said. “He surely would not like to have the embarrassment of being found skulking around the home that is no longer his. Poor boy. I feel quite sorry for him, Alice.”
“If he still is in the area,” the languid voice of Sir Harry Tate said, “you can be sure, my lord, that he is intent on playing on just the sympathy that you are showing. It is altogether possible that he even holds out hopes of being received by you. In my opinion, all persons of unmentionable birth should be treated as if they never had been born at all. Ignore him. He will go away eventually.”
Kate folded her hands demurely in her lap. Nicholas Seyton was twice the man that fop was, for all his unmentionable birth, she thought indignantly. She was pleased to believe that Sir Harry’s upper lip was looking slightly swollen even if the disfigurement was apparent to no one but her. She hoped that the hot tea hurt his mouth like a thousand daggers.
“Quite so,” the earl said, nodding to his guest. “You are quite right, sir. However, unfortunately, sentiment sometimes intrudes on one’s judgment. I cannot forget, you see, that this young man is the son of the cousin who was like a brother to me until his death. I should like to shake his hand and assure him that I am his friend as far as circumstances will allow.”
“And so should I,” Lady Toucher said, glancing at her husband, who was still engrossed in his own conversation with Lady Emma.
“You know Seyton,” the earl said, directing his attention to Charles Dalrymple. “You said you and he are still friends? Perhaps I may enlist your help, Charles. If he is somewhere close and in seclusion, perhaps he would reveal himself for a friend. And then he could discover that I and my sister are his friends too.”
“I still have strong doubts about your theory,” Charles Dalrymple said. “But of course I will be more than willing to do as you ask, Clive. I shall ask around. If he is here, someone must know, who is perhaps reluctant to admit as much to you. I shall find him if he is close by, you may depend on it.”
Sir Harry Tate lifted his quizzing glass in order to examine the marble cherubs cavorting beneath the mantelpiece above the fireplace. “I do not believe I could forget that face either,” he said, his drawl very pronounced. “I cannot tell you how mortifying it was, my lord, to discover just to whom Dalrymple here had presented me. In fact, it is amazing that our friendship survived the incident. I shall keep an eye and an ear open too, though I do hope that you would have no plans to receive Mr. Seyton into the bosom of his family while your house party is in progress.”
Kate, sitting idle behind the teapot, felt an almost overpowering urge to cause his lower lip to swell to match the upper. He, an uninvited guest! Her indignation was quickly swallowed, though, in fright. The earl knew that Nicholas had not left Dorset. He was intent on finding him. And he was quite calculatedly enlisting the help of an unsuspecting guest. And it was quite possible that the servants and others would let down their guard with this man who was Nicholas’ friend.
He was going to be found out, she thought. The stupid man seemed wholly unaware of the danger to himself of staying in the area. He was going to be caught. And he would hang for highway robbery and kidnapping. Kate stared downward, thankful that no one was in need of another cup of tea. She did not think her hands would be steady enough to enable her to direct the liquid into the cup.
Chapter 9
The Marquess of Uppington and Lady Emma went riding in the park with Thelma and Lord Stoughton the following afternoon. The outing was not at all to Thelma’s liking.
“I promised Mr. Moreton that I would show him the greenhouses after luncheon,” she told Kate when the latter was sitting with her in her dressing room before the appointed ride. “But Papa said that I must go with the marquess. I do not see why I should, Kate. After all, a promise first made is the one that should be kept, even if the second does concern a person of higher rank. I cannot see why his lordship does not escort Christine or Julie or Angela. It is not as if he and Lady Emma need a guide. Adam will be with them.”
“Unfortunately, when one is a hostess, one must frequently forgo one’s personal wishes,” Kate murmured soothingly. “You did spend yesterday with Mr. Moreton, after all.”
“I do not like the Marquess,” Thelma confided. “He is stiff and cold in manner. I believe he is toplofty.”
“Perhaps merely a little uncomfortable because he knows no one here except your father,” Kate said.
“Well, I suppose I must go.” Thelma sighed as she rang for her maid to help her into her riding clothes.
Kate remained in the dressing room after Thelma had left. Stiff and cold in manner! Yes, she supposed the description fit the Marquess of Uppington as he had appeared during most of the past two days. He treated Lord Barton with some deference, everyone else as his social inferior. He showed marked but formal attention to Thelma, leading her in to meals, sitting beside her during the taking of tea. It was very obvious to Kate, even if Thelma herself had not realized the fact yet, that some agreement had been reached between the earl and the marquess. The poor girl was going to receive the addresses of the latter before too much time had elapsed.
Kate really did pity her employer. And it was not just the fact that the girl appeared not to like the marquess, while she did favor a man who was socially insignificant. Kate pitied her because she knew what kind of man the marquess was. She had known as soon as she set eyes on him two days before. But the events of the previous evening had confirmed her suspicions.
After dinner, a few tables of cards had been set up in the drawing room, while some of the young people wandered into the adjoining music room. Kate had felt her presence to be superfluous. She was embarrassed, feeling that she belonged to neither group. When she could do so without being conspicuous, she slipped from the drawing room and went to the library to resume her task there. But the library proved to be a disastrous place for her that day. She had not been there half an hour when she looked down from the top of the stairs to find the marquess staring up at her from inside the closed door, his arms folded.
“Oh,” Kate said, “you startled me, my lord. I did not hear the door open.” Or close, her mind added with a little flicker of alarm.
“Whatever you are pretending to do,” he said, “you may abandon now.” A smile curved one side of his mouth. “Come down from there, Kate. I saw you leave and followed as soon as I decently could.”
Kate understood his meaning perfectly. She felt indignation, but with it some alarm. She had not felt that way earlier in the afternoon with Sir Harry Tate. That man was conceited, annoying, and impudent, but she had not felt in any great danger from him. This man was dangerous. She could sense the fact even as she weighed the volume she held in her hand and wondered if it would be the right tactical move to hurl it at his head.
“I am helping Lord Barton reorganize his library, my lord,” she said. “It is a huge task and I plan to get some of it done this evening.” She spoke briskly and turned back to the shelves.
“It is always well to have a good story on hand in the event that one is caught,” he said. “But we are alone and everyone else occupied. Come down from there, Kate, or I shall be obliged to come and get you.”
He meant it. Kate did not think she was quite up to the ignominy of a struggle on top of a movable staircase. She came down. After all, she thought, as a last resort she could scream. Giles had told her she had a good pair of lungs on the only occasion she had been indiscreet enough to lose her temper with him. Someone would hear her and rescue her from a fate worse than death. Besides, she had feet and fingernails, and teeth too if worse came to worst.
The Marquess of Uppington was a tall, thin man with a long, aristocratic face and thin lips. He would be attractive to some women, Kate thought, to the type who liked to be dominated and treated with less than courteous respect. But not to her. She looked boldly up into his face, her eyebrows raised in inquiry, her brain calculating whether her first attack should be made with fists or feet.
“It is easy to see why Lady Thelma Seyton keeps you clad thus,” he said, his eyes roaming over her gray dress. “What puzzles me is why she keeps you at all, Kate. You must draw off all her admirers. Perhaps, though, she is clever enough to realize that as long as she has you by her side those admirers will keep coming back.”
“I find your words insulting, my lord,” Kate said, not changing her expression.
“She will probably keep you even after her marriage to ensure that her husband comes home regularly,” he continued, reaching out to touch her face. Kate leaned backward and evaded his touch.
