Jacquie D'Alessandro (17 page)

“He will not succeed.”

“Then it is my guess that he will end your relationship at that time.”

Catherine ignored the odd feeling that pervaded her at the bald statement, and laughed. “I was not aware that gentlemen ended relationships because the
woman
refused to get married. What sort of man would want the responsibility of a wife, especially a wife who comes with another man’s child, when he could have the carefree enjoyment of a mistress?”

“The sort of man who wants a family. Permanence. A woman and child to share his life with. A man who is capable of giving a woman all the things a man like your husband was not. The sort of man who is in love.” Genevieve shrugged. “Mr. Stanton could be any one of those—or perhaps all of them.”

“He cannot possibly be in love with me, Genevieve. We barely know each other.”

“It does not take long to fall in love.” A wistful, faraway look entered Genevieve’s eyes, and Catherine knew
her friend was thinking of her former lover. Genevieve appeared to give herself a mental shake, then offered Catherine a sad smile. “Indeed, it can happen distressingly fast. And unfortunately, Cupid’s arrow often strikes our hearts at inconvenient times and makes us fall in love with very inconvenient people. Lord knows I am a perfect example of that.”

“I am
not
in love with Mr. Stanton. Heavens, I don’t even particularly
like
him!”

“Actually, I meant Mr. Stanton, my dear. It certainly is inconvenient for him to have feelings for a woman who is dead set against marriage. To say nothing of a woman who is his social superior. And I believe you like him more than you think. Certainly more than you are willing to admit.”

An instant denial rose to Catherine’s lips, but she found she could not utter the words. Instead, she set her teacup aside and rose to pace in front of the floral chintz settee. “I cannot deny I am faced with deciding what to do with this…inconvenient attraction to Mr. Stanton.”

“It isn’t difficult, Catherine, as you only have two options: ignore your feelings, or enjoy them and indulge in an affair.”

Catherine shook her head. “It is not that simple. There are things I must consider before making such an important decision.”

“It is precisely that simple. You want him, he wants you, neither of you are attached, neither are innocents—what else is there to consider?”

“My son, for one thing. What if he were to find out I’d taken a lover?”

“Well, naturally you would be extremely discreet,
Catherine. Not only to protect Spencer, but yourself as well.”

“Someone could still find out.”

“Yes, but no one said that taking a lover was free of risk. Oftentimes the risk itself lends an air of excitement to the affair.”

“What about the fact that Andrew lives in London?”

“He may live in Town, but he’s in Little Longstone
now
.”

“But he will return to London in a week’s time.”

Genevieve raised her brows. “I would think that would be perfect. You do not want a permanent relationship, and he is leaving Little Longstone in one week. What could be more ideal?”

Catherine halted in her pacing in front of the fireplace. “I had not considered it quite that way.”

“Perhaps you should.”

Gripping the edge of the mantel, she tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I never should have reread the
Guide
last night.” She looked at Genevieve over her shoulder and gave a sheepish laugh. “As I’m sure you can imagine, it put all sorts of ideas in my head.”

“I’m certain it did. But I think it’s far more likely that you were driven to reread the
Guide
because those ideas were already in your head—put there by Mr. Stanton.”

Catherine nodded slowly. “Yes, you’re right.” She turned to face her friend. “What if I conceived a child?”

“As you know from the
Guide
, there are various ways to prevent that from happening.” Genevieve stood and walked to stand next to Catherine. Clearly Catherine’s anguish showed because Genevieve did something she rarely did—she reached out her gloved hand and touched Catherine’s shoulder in a show of support and sympathy.
“I can see you are distressed, my dear, and you should not be. There is really only one decision, and I believe that in your heart you know what that is. Allowing yourself sensual pleasure does not make you less of a good mother. As the
Guide
points out, being selfish upon occasion is not a crime.”

“There is no room for this man in the life I’ve built here.”

“Perhaps not in the long term, but there could be room for the next week.”

Silence stretched between them until finally Catherine said softly, “You would take him as a lover.”

“Yes,” Genevieve replied without hesitation. “I would not deny either of us the pleasure. I would listen to my heart and
carpe diem
! Seize the day! But based on my writings in the
Guide
, I’m sure you knew that.” A sad smile touched her lips. “Every woman deserves a grand passion in her life, Catherine. It is one thing to read that such sensual pleasures exist, but to experience them…” She heaved a dreamy-sounding sigh. “The memories of my time with Richard will continue to warm me for the rest of my life.”

Catherine’s heart turned over with sympathy. “You do not have to be alone, Genevieve.”

Her friend held up her hands. “These are not hands a man wants touching him.”

“There is more to you than your hands. You are a beautiful, intelligent, vibrant woman.”

“Thank you. But a grand affair, the taking on of a lover, is based on a strong physical attraction, and that, I’m afraid, is in the past for me. But not for you. Catherine, what is your heart is telling you?”

Catherine closed her eyes. She’d expected to listen to
an internal battle between her mind and her heart, but the yearnings of her heart drowned out any other sound—and with only two words.

She opened her eyes. “My heart says
carpe diem
.”

F
eeling in need of a brisk ride to settle her runaway thoughts, Catherine decided to stop at the stables on her return walk from Genevieve’s cottage. The double oak doors were thrown open, and she stepped into the cool, shadowy interior. Dust motes danced on ribbons of sunshine streaming through the windows, and she drew in a deep breath, loving the heady scent of fresh hay, horseflesh, and leather. The murmur of masculine voices reached her ears, and her heart quickened. Was Andrew once again in the stables with Fritzborne?

She walked toward the voices, and realized the sound
was coming from round the corner—the old, rear section of the stables that had not been refurbished. As she drew closer, the voices became more distinct, and she realized that one of the voices indeed belonged to Andrew. The other belonged to Spencer.

“That’s good,” said Andrew, his words growing more distinct with her every step. “Keep your left hand up. Higher. Protect your face. Now jab with your right.”

“I can’t bloody reach you,” came Spencer’s breathless reply, followed by a grunt. Catherine paused and raised her brows at her son’s language.

“Move your strong leg back a step. That will draw me in closer. Then, once I’m in your range, lunge forward and jab.”

“Ha! I’ll get you now.”

“Ha! I’d like to see you try.”

Catherine tiptoed forward, her slippers silent on the wood floor. When she reached the corner, she peeked around the doorway. And froze.

Andrew and Spencer appeared to be engaged in…fisticuffs? Neither wore their jackets or cravats, and both had rolled back their shirtsleeves to their elbows. Her jaw dropped as Andrew bounced on the balls of his feet, feinting back and forth, while Spencer, fists clenched at chin height, swung at him several times and missed. Then Andrew’s hands flashed out, narrowly missing Spencer’s jaw. Spencer leaned back to avoid the blow, and nearly toppled backward.

A cry of fright raced into her throat, but before she could utter it, Andrew caught her son’s upper arm and steadied him. “Watch your balance, Spencer. Keep your weight forward and raise those hands to prevent—”

“What on earth is going on here?” Catherine, voice
shaking with a combination of anger and fright, stepped from the shadows and planted her hands on her hips.

Andrew froze at the sound of her outraged voice and glanced over his shoulder, hoping she would not look as upset as she sounded. Their eyes met, and his heart sank. Not only did she look angry, she appeared horrified as well.

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could utter a word, something struck him directly under the chin with a perfectly placed blow. Instantly realizing the something was Spencer’s fist, Andrew staggered back a step, got his feet tangled up, and landed squarely on his arse on the hard wood. He winced and made a mental note to fall toward the haystack next time.

“Good heavens, Spencer, have you—or rather both of you—taken leave of your senses?” came Catherine’s voice from behind him. He heard her rushing forward.

Spencer shifted his stupefied gaze from his clenched fist to Andrew, then back to his fist, then to his mother, who appeared to have steam exiting her ears. He visibly swallowed, then moved toward Andrew. “I say, Mr. Stanton, I didn’t mean to—”

Andrew held up one hand to stop the boy’s words while he rubbed his sore jaw with the other. “Now
that
was an excellent, perfectly executed blow, and a perfect example of the second rule I taught you, which is…?”

“Always take advantage of your opponent’s weakness.”

“Precisely. I was momentarily distracted by your mother’s arrival, and the next thing I know, I’m on my arse on the floor. Very nicely done.” He jumped to his feet, brushed some dust from his breeches, then with a smile, he offered Spencer his hand. “I’m proud of you.”

The flush of unmistakable pleasure washing over the
boy’s face, combined with the wonder and gratitude in his expression, warmed Andrew’s heart in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. “Th…thank you, Mr. Stanton.” His smile collapsed as suddenly as it had appeared. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Andrew moved his jaw back and forth, then winked at the lad. “I’ll survive.” He then turned his attention to Catherine and smiled, pretending he did not notice her thunderous expression. “Your son is an excellent pupil.”

“
Pupil?
Please do not tell me that you are teaching him to fight with his fists.”

“All right, I won’t tell you that.”

“What
are
you doing?”

“Since you’ve requested that I not tell you that I’m teaching him to fight with his fists, it’s going to be very difficult to answer that question.”

She leveled a look on him that made him thankful he wasn’t milk, as he would have curdled on the spot. She then swiveled her glance toward Spencer. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mum. Of course. It’s Mr. Spencer who got knocked on his bottom.”

“And I’m very well, thank you.”

Her angry glance jumped back and forth between him and Spencer. “I’m waiting for an explanation.”

“I was teaching Spencer some fundamentals of pugilism,” Andrew said. “As you can see, he is a very apt pupil.”

“Why on earth would you teach him something like that? Did either of you consider the risks? He could have fallen. Gotten seriously hurt. He nearly toppled backward only a moment ago.”

“But I didn’t, Mum,” Spencer broke in. “Mr. Stanton caught me.”

“And if he had not been successful?”

“But he
was
,” Spencer reiterated. “He’s very strong and very fast. He built this special ring for me. It helps me keep my balance. Watch.” He demonstrated, then added, “The ring is surrounded by hay for a soft landing in case I should fall—which I won’t, because Mr. Stanton is an excellent teacher. And as for why Mr. Stanton is teaching me…” he raised his chin a notch. “It’s because I asked him to. It was my surprise for you.”

She waved her hand in an arc that encompassed the entire room. “Well, I certainly am surprised.”

“Since you know this much, you might as well know the rest, Mum.”

“There’s
more
?”

“I also asked Mr. Stanton to instruct me in fencing and horseback riding. We had our first riding lesson yesterday, and it went very well.” He turned to Andrew. “Didn’t it go very well?”

“Yes indeed,” Andrew confirmed.

All the color drained from her face as she stared at Andrew. “Ride? Are you mad? What if he fell from the saddle?”

“What if
you
fell from the saddle?” Andrew countered. “Or me? Or Philip? Should none of us ride?”

A frown bunched her brows, and she turned to Spencer, taking in his glowing, hopeful expression. “Did you…enjoy the lesson?”

“Very much. Oh, I was nervous at first, but I caught on quickly, and my nervousness fled.”

“He’s an extremely bright lad, Lady Catherine.”

“See there, Mum? Yesterday’s riding lesson was fine, and today’s pugilism lesson was perfectly safe as well,” Spencer said in a rush. He shuffled forward and laid a comforting hand on her arm. “Mr. Stanton made certain
of it. And don’t worry. I’m not attempting to become the best pugilist in England. Just the best
I
can be. So that if anyone ever tries to hurt you, I can knock them onto their bottom, as I did Mr. Stanton.”

She blinked several times. “That’s very sweet, darling. And terribly chivalrous. But—”

“Please don’t ask me to stop, Mum. I’m liking it very much.”

“I…see.” She drew a deep breath. “Why don’t you return to the house and give me a few moments to discuss this with Mr. Stanton?”

Spencer sent a worried, hopeful look at Andrew, and Andrew gave him an encouraging nod.

“May I go to the springs instead of the house, Mum?”

“Yes, of course.”

Spencer came to Andrew, and whispered, “You’ll meet me for our lesson?”

Andrew nodded. He and Catherine stood in silence to the sound of Spencer’s shuffling steps.

When the footfalls faded into silence, she said, “Please explain yourself. What were you thinking to encourage Spencer with this dangerous endeavor?”

Andrew took a deep breath, then related the conversation he’d had with Spencer on the afternoon they’d arrived in Little Longstone. “Spencer is entering manhood,” he concluded. “He wants and needs to feel he can do some of the things other young men his age can do. He seemed so lost, floundering, and very unsure of himself. I only wanted to try to give him some measure of encouragement and confidence in himself—the same sort of encouragement I was given as a boy.”

She said nothing for several seconds, and Andrew was relieved to see that she no longer appeared quite so angry. “I appreciate your kindness, Mr. Stanton—”

“Andrew.”

She blushed. “Andrew. However—”

“It is not a matter of kindness, Catherine. It is a question of caring. Spencer has…touched my heart. He reminds me very much of someone I knew in America, and I would like to help him if I can.” He reached out and clasped her hands. “You have my word that I would never do anything to place him in danger.”

Her gaze searched his. “Naturally I don’t think you would intentionally hurt him, but something like this…” Her gaze panned around the room, then returned to his. “I cannot help but worry. How can you promise he won’t be hurt?”

“He—or anyone else for that matter—could suffer an injury anywhere. At any time.”

“What you say is true, but let us be realistic. Because of his awkward gait, the chances of Spencer hurting himself are greater than someone who can walk normally.”

“I agree, which is merely one more reason why I think these lessons in basic pugilism are a good idea. They will strengthen him. Help him gain balance. And that in turn will boost his confidence in himself. You could see how pleased he was with himself when he flattened me.”

“Yes. However, I think you helped him a bit there. And please do not forget how he’d almost fallen just before that.”

“Catherine, I’m not going to lie to you. He’d almost fallen a dozen times before you arrived.” Her eyes widened, and her cheeks paled. “But I steadied him each time. And each time, more minutes passed before he lost his balance again. He improved rapidly, and only after one lesson. Just as he did yesterday with the riding.”

“I actually tried to interest Spencer in learning to ride when he was younger. But he never wanted to try. Believ
ing that the size of the horses frightened him, I purchased Aphrodite as a pony, but Spencer was not interested. Just as I did with venturing off the estate grounds, I finally stopped asking.” Her eyes met his, and his heart performed its familiar Catherine-induced roll. “Your presence here seems to have the effect of making my son wish to expand his horizons and try new things.”

“Does that upset you?”

She considered for several seconds, then said, “No, but I must admit that the cautious mother in me would have preferred that Spencer ask for lessons in backgammon rather than riding, pugilism, and fencing.”

Andrew smiled. “Believe me, the boy does not need any lessons on how to play backgammon.”

“But the nurturing mother in me wants my son to have as normal and full a life as possible. When I think of the added mobility learning to ride will afford him…I’m thrilled for him.” She blew out a long breath. “I cannot allow my fears to dampen his enthusiasm and his budding independence. But even as I say that, I’ll worry and be concerned for his safety. I’m entrusting his safety to you, Andrew.”

He brought her hands to his mouth and touched his lips to her fingertips, enjoying the way her breath caught at the gesture. “I am honored and humbled by your faith in me, as I know how important Spencer is to you. I swear your trust is not misplaced. Now, has this matter been settled?”

“Yes, I suppose it has. But be warned: I’ll be keeping my eye on you.”

He smiled. “How delightful, as I relish having your eye upon me. A moment ago you said that my presence here seems to have the effect of making your son wish to expand his horizons and try new things. Does my presence perchance have the same effect on his mother?”

His heart skipped at the unmistakable flare of awareness in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’d like to invite you to try something new with me. I’ve never taken a moonlight stroll through an English country garden. Would you care to join me tonight?”

“You’ve a sudden yen to smell roses under the cover of darkness?”

“No. I’ve a long-standing yen to walk with you in a garden under the cover of darkness.” He very much enjoyed the way her eyes flickered at his admission. “If we were in London, I’d invite you to Vauxhall. Since we are in Little Longstone, I am forced to improvise.” He gave in to the overwhelming urge and trailed his fingertips over her satiny cheek. “Will you join me?”

She said nothing as her gaze searched his, and his heart pounded so loud he swore she had to hear it. He was asking for more than a simple walk. They both knew it. But surely she’d thought about last night’s conversation. He’d thought of little else. Surely she’d reached some sort of conclusion. Yet with each passing second of silence his hopes faded, as he could see she was still wrestling with her decision.

Then, finally, she cleared her throat. “Yes, Andrew. I will join you.”

He supposed that in the history of mankind sweeter words might have possibly been spoken, but he’d be damned if could imagine what those words might have been.

Catherine spent the entire evening in a mood of unprecedented heightened awareness that pushed her toward a state of near giddiness. Everything seemed sharper, clearer, all her senses fully engaged. She could not recall a time when mutton had tasted so savory, carrots more de
licious, or wine more heady. With her every movement, her aqua muslin gown brushed against her uncommonly sensitive skin, skipping tingles along her nerve endings. The flickering pale tapers in the silver candelabra glowed brighter, the sound of Spencer’s laughter delighted her more, and the deep timbre of Andrew’s voice shivered thrills of anticipation down her spine.

Had any man ever looked so enticing? So tempting? The muted candlelight highlighted his dark good looks, casting his face in an intriguing array of shadows that lured her gaze again and again. Dressed in a dark blue jacket, snowy shirt, and fawn breeches, he looked masculine, imposing, and utterly delicious.