What a Lady Needs

“I’ll agree with that.”

“Our grandmother doesn’t know. We just want to find him and put him back. Barry was a rotter to his toes, from all accounts, but he was her son.”

“And your sister knows this, as well? That the body has gone missing?”

“She does now.”

Both men turned to see Kate standing at the other end of the balcony, more than half-hidden in the shadows. She stepped forward, her face pale in the moonlight, her arms wrapped about her as if she’d taken a chill. Simon felt an insane urge to go to her, hold her in his arms, comfort her.

“When were you going to tell me, Valentine? When I tripped over him?”

“Kate, I—”

“Never mind. I probably know the rest. The journals, the bible and the rest of it—the reborn Society and its plans to open England’s door and let Napoleon stroll in. I’m a woman, yes, but I’m a Redgrave first. I’m a part of this. God help us, it’s our heritage. So now that the farce is over, and not a moment too soon, we’ll meet tomorrow morning at seven to take that ride, and then resume the search. Oh, and one thing more. Simon, I don’t know how you’re involved, or why Gideon allowed you here, but know this. You stay the bloody hell out of my way or I’ll have your liver on a stick.”

With that, she pulled open one of the other French doors and was gone.

Valentine took a long pull on his cigar and then rather violently tossed it down into the garden. “My apologies, Simon,” he said tightly. “I didn’t have a chance to introduce you before she took her exit. That was my sister Kate.”

Simon was still looking at the empty spot where Lady Katherine had stood. He felt incredible helplessness, not unmixed with guilt. “Shouldn’t you go after her? Clearly she’s upset.”

Valentine looked at him in some surprise. “That’s what you got from that? She’s upset? She’s homicidal, man, not that I blame her. Hell of a way to find out about old Barry.”

“I wouldn’t care for the method, no. Does she even remember him?”

Valentine shook his head. “No, she was only an infant. I don’t even remember him, or my mother for that matter. You can look at Barry in the Long Hall, but Maribel’s portrait is up in the attics if you want to see her—or you could just look at Kate.”

Simon thought for a few moments. “Sometimes it’s more comfortable to build castles in your mind than to actually live in one.”

“How marvelously obscure. But I understand what you’re saying. Kate probably built our parents into perfect beings in her mind, victims of circumstance and a cruel fate. They were far from that. Our grandmother told her everything she felt she had to know before her first season, but these past weeks have been a painful revelation to all of us. Kate probably most of all. You’re right, I have to go to her. If I don’t appear by the time our mounts are brought round tomorrow morning, check to see if my body has been stuffed behind a rosebush. Here, take your cigar.”

Simon nodded his thanks, but then slid the cigar into his pocket for later in the evening, as he doubted he’d find sleep easily tonight, so a head-clearing walk in the gardens might be in order. For the moment, he was going to find his way back to the long gallery and take another look at Barry Redgrave, and then hunt up the portrait of his father, the sixteenth earl, as well. He’d thought he’d seen something in the background of Barry’s portrait earlier, but he’d dismissed it. Now he wanted a closer look without Dearborn standing behind him, because he’d imagined he’d seen the faint outline of a draped tartan painted in one dim corner inside the frame.

Not the Hunting Stuart tartan, which could be worn by anyone, but the distinctive red and green of the Royal Stuart, reserved for members of the Stuart line, and worn only with the permission of the king.

But that would be insane....

CHAPTER FOUR

KATE WATCHED AS Simon mounted his horse, a fine shiny brown stallion with a white blaze on its handsome face. The horse was ready for a run, but the marquis controlled it beautifully. Not that she’d compliment him on either his fine judge of horseflesh or his horsemanship. Not now, and not if he cleared two five-bar fences while sitting backward in the saddle, playing the flute.

She wasn’t feeling in charity with Simon Ravenbill this morning. She wasn’t very happy about the world in general.

At least Valentine had now answered all her questions, promising he was holding nothing back and there would be no more unpleasant surprises.

The marquis of Singleton wasn’t Valentine’s new friend, but working for the government, and here with Gideon’s blessing. She was only the silly young female who should be hoodwinked, tricked, cajoled if necessary, even romanced, just to keep her from knowing what any fool could see was happening beneath her own roof.

Gideon would get a scathing letter from her in the next few days. Valentine had already received notice of her displeasure with him, and Simon Ravenbill could just go hang, for all she cared.

“Where are we off to?” Valentine asked from atop his bay gelding. “Kate, which fields are lying fallow this year?”

“The entire West Run, but first I want to see the mausoleum.”

“Kate,” Valentine warned, but his tone was resigned. “All right, as I’d rather you didn’t go on your own. Do you mind, Simon?”

Kate looked at him, her chin raised defiantly.

“Not a bit,” he said affably, and then raised one eyebrow at her as if to say happy now, brat?

Clearly the gloves were off, for both of them. She didn’t like him, and he— Well, she didn’t know what he thought of her. Nothing good, surely, not after her explosion last night on the balcony.

She really should attempt to be a better hostess. If only any of her brothers ever brought home somebody normal.

Valentine dismounted, tossing the reins to one of the grooms. “You two go on ahead,” he said as he walked toward the door. “I’ll hunt up Dearborn and get the key.”

Kate felt her stomach do a small flip. She did not want to be alone with the marquis. “No, we’ll wait for—”

“Excellent idea,” Simon interrupted. “Is it far? Hector here is on the frisk. I’d like to give him a short run rather than have to fight him.”

“Kate, take the long way,” Valentine called back over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

Kate was considering hot coals heaped on Val’s head, and didn’t immediately respond.

“You’re thinking up a way to lose me in the woods?” Simon asked, drawing his mount up alongside her Daisy, who wasn’t shy about indicating her interest in the stallion.

“No,” she answered honestly. “I was mulling punishments for Val. But you were next on the list. What are your feelings as to thumbscrews?”

“I’m not particularly enamored, thank you, anyway. You know, I’d wondered if there might be a dungeon somewhere in this great pile of stones.”

Kate acknowledged the jab with a small smile as she urged Daisy ahead at a walk. “I suppose I should apologize for my behavior last night.”

Simon returned her smile, still easily controlling the eager stallion. He didn’t pull at the horse’s mouth by trying to rein it in, or dominate the animal. It was his calm manner that had Hector obeying him. She could admire that sort of talent and understanding. And he really was quite handsome. He couldn’t help that his hair was blond.

“The eavesdropping, or the designs on my liver?”

“Excuse me?” She’d really have to begin concentrating on what he was saying rather than how he looked. After all, he was only a man. She refused to be impressed.

“I was inquiring as to the possible subjects covered in your apology.”

Now who wasn’t listening? “I didn’t apologize. I said I supposed I should.”

“Ah, yes, you’re right. I see the distinction. Would you mind if I apologized?”

She shook her head. “No, that would take too long, as I consider the list to be quite lengthy. I’ll just graciously accept.” They were clear of the circle now, and about to pass through the gates held open by Dickie and Liam. “To the top of the hill, my lord, and then bear to your right and follow the trail. It eventually leads us back around to the other side of the stone fence. You’ll be able to see the mausoleum tucked into the trees at the crest of the far hill. Show off if you feel the need, as I’m certain your mount can best mine, but please don’t frighten the sheep.”

And with that warning, she was off, urging Daisy into a full gallop.

She needed this. The morning sun on her face, the breeze blowing away the cobwebs in her head and easing the heaviness in her heart. Kate’s life had been one long fairy tale here at Redgrave Manor, and even Trixie’s explanation of her parents’ tragic end had been something out of a storybook, made romantic in her mind. A misunderstanding, an impetuous challenge. A warning shot gone mortally astray. A devastated mother forced to leave her beloved children to escape arrest, but vowing to return for them, only to perish in the French Terror. Nearly a Shakespearian tragedy.