Nobody asked what he meant by that. Nobody tried to stop him. And though Charlie Field slapped him on the shoulder again and even squeezed it reassuringly, no one offered to go with him.
Within two minutes he was striding down the street. Two gentlemen who were approaching the doors of White’s took one look at his face and thought better of attempting to greet him and commiserate with him.
Trouble came with full force to Katherine while she was in the breakfast room with Margaret. They had sat talking rather longer than usual, reminiscing pleasantly about their years in Throckbridge. They were to meet Vanessa later to shop on Bond Street and had just agreed that they must go and get ready if they were not to be late.
Before they could even rise from their chairs, however, the door opened abruptly and Vanessa herself rushed in. Her eyes focused immediately upon Katherine.
“Oh, thank heaven!” she exclaimed, hurrying toward her. “You did not leave home early for some reason.”
But before Katherine could get to her feet to hug her sister and comment upon her strange appearance here so early, she became aware that Elliott, Duke of Moreland, was also in the room, looking dark and forbidding, to say the least.
And Vanessa was looking rather as if she had seen a ghost.
Katherine surged to her feet, as did Margaret.
“Nessie,” Katherine said, terror clutching at her heart. “The children?”
Vanessa shook her head, but it was Elliott who answered.
“I ought to have spoken to you after the garden party, Katherine,” he said, striding farther into the room, “though as it has turned out, I would have been too late even then. Your name has become inextricably linked with that of one of London’s worst rakes, I am afraid.”
Oh, this again! She did not pretend to misunderstand.
“Lord Montford?” she said. “There is some gossip, is there not? It is all very foolish and very baseless. Constantine warned me about it yesterday, and Meg and I stayed home from the Clarkson soiree last evening just to be on the safe side. It will doubtless blow over like yesterday’s wind once-”
“Oh, Kate,” Vanessa said, possessing herself of both Katherine’s hands and squeezing them rather painfully, “what has that man done to you? Why did you not tell us?”
“D-done to me?” Katherine looked from her sister to Elliott in some bewilderment and mounting alarm. “What do you mean? He has done nothing except dance with me and sit with me at the garden party. What exactly is being said?”
Margaret, she could see, had both hands pressed to her bosom.
Elliott sighed audibly. “We were not at the soiree last evening either,” he said. “We were at a private dinner instead. But Montford’s aunt and cousin were there for an hour or so, quite long enough to spread rumors that I hope are just rumors. Though even unfounded gossip can do considerable harm to your reputation. Katherine, did you meet Lord Montford three years ago soon after coming to town for the first time? Vanessa and I put our heads together on the way here and wonder if it might have been during that week when we went into the country with Margaret and Stephen and left you in my mother’s care. Did you meet him then?”
Katherine felt her head turn cold. If she could have trusted her legs sufficiently, she would have sat down on her chair again. But her knees seemed to be locked beneath her.
“Cecily and I had been invited to join Lady Beaton’s party at Vauxhall,” she said. “Miss Finley-now Mrs. Gooding-brought her brother without first asking Lady Beaton because Mr. Gooding had sprained an ankle.”
“Kate,” Vanessa said-she was still clutching Katherine’s hands, “what did he do to you?”
“Kate?” Meg’s voice was unnaturally high pitched.
“He did nothing,” Katherine said.
“Did he try to do something?” Elliott asked, looking keenly at her.
She opened her mouth to deny it. But clearly this was not the time for lies or evasion. Some trouble was brewing-and that was probably a colossal understatement-and it was going to be necessary that her family know the truth.
The tension in the room was thick enough to be sliced with a knife.
“He had made a wager,” she said. “It was in the betting book at one of the gentlemen’s clubs-I do not know which. He was to seduce me within two weeks. He had persuaded Mr. Gooding to sprain his ankle, and then he had persuaded his sister to allow him to escort her instead.”
Elliott’s blue eyes were boring into hers. Both Meg and Nessie were standing as still as statues.
“And?” Elliott asked, his voice rather like a whip. “Did he succeed?”
Katherine shook her head.
“No,” she said, her voice a mere whisper of sound. “No, he did not. And he went back to his club and said so. He did not claim victory. And he was not lying. He did not win that wager. He did nothing to me.”
She could not after all bear to tell the full truth.
Vanessa had one hand pressed over her mouth. Margaret was weeping with choking sobs, which she was trying to smother.
“Forester-Sir Clarence Forester,” Elliott said, sounding suddenly weary, “will be answering a few of my questions as soon as I have found him-he was not at any of the clubs when I tried them earlier. Whatever grudge he may have against his cousin, his manner of taking revenge is unpardonable. Then I will need a few answers from Montford himself. Maybe he did not win his wager, Katherine-indeed, I trust your word that he did not-but I have to dispute your claim that he did nothing. He took on that dastardly wager, did he not, and set about winning it?”
Margaret spoke up.
“Sir Clarence Forester and his mother are the pair who stopped us in the park,” she said, her voice trembling, “and made us all feel so very dreadful as if we had done something wrong. They are the ones who have done wrong-vicious, deliberate, irreparable wrong. What has Kate ever done to deserve their spite? Oh, if I could just get my hands on them.”
“I’ll do it for you, Margaret,” Elliott said grimly. “In the meanwhile, you had best stay in the house here, both of you. There is much-”
The door crashed open again and Stephen strode in, his hair a halo of unruly curls about his head after a morning ride, his eyes wild, his face as pale as his shirt.
“I am in time, thank God,” he said, fixing his eyes on Katherine. “You are on no account to go out this morning, Kate. There is a damned scoundrel and liar loose on the town and I have just drawn his cork. I would have done more, but the sniveling bast-The sniveling coward ran away. He took a purple nose and a bloodied shirt with him, though, by thunder. I know this is all a pack of lies, Kate-Monty is a friend of mine and you are my sister. But even so-”
The door did not crash open again for the simple reason that Stephen had not shut it behind him. But Constantine, when he appeared in the doorway, looked as if he would have come through the door without opening it if it had stood in his way.
“Constantine,” Katherine said, holding up one shaking hand. “If you have come here to tell me that you told me so, I shall first scream very loudly and then slap your face very hard.”
And she burst into tears to her own terrible chagrin. Soon she had four arms about her, and Meg and Nessie were murmuring words of comfort when really there was no comfort to be found.
“Forester is a clever bastard,” Constantine said. “By the time I appeared at his door a short while ago, he had his mother stationed there instead of a servant, and short of planting her a facer, which I was sorely tempted to do, I could not get in. If she is to be believed, Forester met with an accident this morning at the hands of a large gang of fierce footpads and lost a courageous battle against them.”