“I do not allow anyone to talk to me this way,” she said. “I would ask you to leave, my lord.”
“Oh, come now,” he said, “you need not practice your coy ways with me, Kate. We understand each other, do we not? Why waste precious days avoiding what we both know is inevitable and utterly desirable?”
“I know perfectly well what you mean,” Kate said, standing her ground despite the strong urge she felt to take a step backward. “You mean to take me as your whore because I am a servant and appear to have very little choice. I do have a choice, my lord. I choose to decline your kind offer.”
“You think because I am likely to offer for your employer that I will expect your favors free of charge?” he said. “I would find it distasteful, my dear, to have my intended or my wife pay for my pleasures. You may name your price. I am sure we can come to an amicable agreement. Come, Kate. I have, no intention of haggling with you for several days. I want you now. Tonight. Does she ever call on you at night? You must make sure that it will be safe for me to come to your room.”
“You can rest easy,” Kate said. “The room has a lock. The door will be locked tonight—with you on the outside, my lord.”
“You are a tease, I perceive,” he said. “I do not like that, Kate, as you will learn. All my women do, you know. I like my mistresses docile and obedient.”
“Yes, I know,” Kate said. Giles all over again. Thank providence that she was not married to this man and had a choice about both the docility and the obedience. “Would you kindly leave now, my lord? I am not interested in being one of your women.”
“Come here,” he said, taking her upper arm in a hand whose strength instantly alarmed her. She was pulled hard against his body before she could draw breath, and those thin lips were pressed hard against her own. One of his hands twined itself painfully in her drawn-back hair so that she could not twist away from him. Kate felt nausea, quickly replaced by panic. She could not even beat against his chest; her hands were trapped between them.
He lifted his head after what seemed like many minutes, though Kate supposed it was really only a few seconds. “If I am to be married to Lady Thelma,” he said, “I believe it would be to your advantage, Kate, to cultivate my goodwill. I have needs, and I cannot in all honesty imagine that that poor dab of a female will satisfy them. I shall expect her companion to be mine also.”
He smiled that knowing, one-sided smile again one moment before Kate’s foot kicked out at his shin. She could not have hurt him. There are limits to the wounds one small female can inflict with the toe of a soft slipper. However, she took him enough by surprise that he released his hold on her and she had time to whisk herself behind the heavy wood-and-leather desk chair.
“Come on step closer, my lord,” she said breathlessly, “and I shall scream. I am well aware that I shall probably end up being dismissed, while you will be admired as a fine figure of a man. But so be it. I would rather be a beggar in the streets than endure one more of your touches. And if you think I am teasing or being coy, just take one step closer. One step!”
He laughed suddenly, the first time she had seen any sign of emotion in the man. “If you really mean what you say, Kate,” he said, “you are going about things in quite the wrong way. You are making yourself quite irresistible by this behavior. One cannot but imagine what passion you might be induced to display in bed, my dear.”
“One step!” Kate warned.
“I am going to take that step in just a moment,” he said. “I do not believe you will scream, Kate. Think just how embarrassing the scene would be: servants, guests, your employer all rushing in here. Besides, I believe I shall be able to stop your mouth before you have had a chance to make yourself heard.”
Kate opened her mouth and drew in a lungful of air. She was going to screech so loudly that the most distant scullery maid would blanch with terror. However, she was saved from the necessity of doing anything so drastic when the library door suddenly opened again—she heard it quite distinctly this time—and the languid figure of Sir Harry Tate wandered in. Kate had never thought that she would be glad to see that particular gentleman.
“Ah, I do beg your pardon,” he said on a sigh, raising his quizzing glass to his eye and surveying first Kate and then Lord Uppington through it. “Am I interrupting clandestine business?”
Kate seethed with indignation. But this was more healthy, she realized immediately. Her fear had evaporated.
“Three is rather a crowd,” Uppington said, apparently not even embarrassed that his intentions were obvious to the new arrival.
“Quite, quite,” Sir Harry agreed. “It is just that I remembered, you see, that this afternoon I became so engrossed in a delightful conversation with Mrs. Mannering that I completely forgot my purpose in coming here. It was to choose a book, of course. I find myself quite unable to sleep at night unless I first bore myself with some sermon or moralizing treatise or such. An affectation of mine. I regret to say that it usually takes me an interminable time to find something quite boring enough. You will not object to my browsing? Do not mind me. Carry on as if I were not here, please.”
“I believe I have done enough work for tonight,” Kate said. “I shall say good night. My lord? Sir Harry?” She curtsied to each and left the room unhurriedly and with what she considered to be admirable dignity.
And this was the nobleman designed as a marriage partner for Thelma, Kate thought now, rising from the chaise longue on which she had been seated and leaving for her own room. Poor Thelma! She did wonder whether she should say something to Lord Barton. But Kate had not lived three-and–twenty years without knowing something of the world. She guessed that the prospect of netting a live marquess and heir to a dukedom for his daughter would outweigh all considerations of character with the Earl of Barton. She might as well keep her knowledge to herself. There was, after all, nothing so very unusual about the Marquess of Uppington’s behavior.
Kate was faced with another free afternoon, but she did not believe she would spend this one in the library. Too many unpleasant events had happened there the day before. Besides, during the hours she had worked there, she had realized that her task would be a formidable one and that there was very little likelihood anyway that she would discover any very significant documents.
On the other hand, something else had happened the day before to alarm her considerably. The earl was convinced, it seemed, that Nicholas Seyton was indeed in the area. And he seemed intent on finding him. Kate could no longer be in any doubt about his motives. The man had quite brazenly lied, pretending a concern for his cousin’s son, denying in so many words that he himself had ordered Nicholas to leave Barton Abbey.
And it seemed that what she feared really had happened. Someone who knew Nicholas was among the house guests. Mr. Dalrymple was his friend, and even Sir Harry Tate claimed that he would recognize the man he had met once. Those facts were bad enough. Worse was the fact that Lord Barton had cleverly enlisted their help in looking for Mr. Seyton. Kate liked Mr. Dalrymple. He seemed a kindly and sensible gentleman. But he did not realize that he would be leading his friend into a trap if he found him. Sir Harry, of course, would probably delight in exposing Nicholas’ whereabouts even if he knew the truth.
Kate had been very tempted the night before to slip out of the house again and run to the cottage where Nicholas lived, to warn him of the impending danger. Pride had held her back, in addition perhaps to a little leftover fear after her encounter with the Marquess of Uppington. The safety of her room seemed too precious to abandon for that night. How did she know that the marquess was not lurking outside her room hoping that she would for some reason unlock the door?
What she must do was to send a message to Nicholas. She should have done so during the morning, in fact, but she had procrastinated. What if the servants were not as loyal as he thought them to be? What if they went straight to the earl and revealed the message she had entrusted to them? She would be dismissed immediately and probably interrogated about her knowledge of Nicholas’ whereabouts. She would end up doing him far more harm than good.
Finally, however, she persuaded herself that she must trust the servants. After all, Nicholas had said that they all knew where he was, and yet obviously none of them had breathed a word to Lord Barton. She took a shawl from her room and set out for the stables and Barret, the head groom. She found him directing the work of a stableboy, who was forking out the stalls of the horses which had been taken out for the afternoon. He withdrew to the cobbled stableyard when Kate indicated that she wished to speak with him.
“I have been told by Mr. Nicholas Seyton that I may trust you with any message for him,” she began, her eyes watching the groom carefully.
“Mr. Seyton has been gone for some time, ma’am,” he said after a short silence.
“But I know that he is still in the neighborhood,” Kate said. “I have been to his cottage and talked to him on two occasions. I wish to help him. He told me that I might contact him through you if the matter was of sufficient importance.”
