Sandra Madden (10 page)

Kate stepped toward Beacham, splaying her hand to better display the ring. "Have you seen this ring before, sir? Or one like it?"

As the goldsmith examined the ring, Edmund observed Kate. Each time they were together he discovered something new and bewitching about her. The light velvet lilt of her laugh. The unruly golden wisps of curls that framed her heart-shaped face. The heightened color of her cheeks when she grew excited.

Her worn, lightweight woolen cloak might appear shabby on another woman and distract from her figure. But on Kate, the cloak mattered little; it went all but unseen. Kate's beauty commanded the eye's attention, a beauty that shone from within and was captured in the deep amber of her eyes, eyes sparkling like stars of gold.

" 'Tis a rose wrapped round a crown," Kate explained as if the goldsmith could not see for himself.

He shook his head. "Nay, milady. I have never seen such a ring before."

"Do you know where my lady's ring might have been fashioned?" Edmund asked. "Perchance in another country?"

"Perhaps, milord. 'Tis fashioned of the finest gold. And since the crown is barely to be seen I would suggest a noble or royal connection."

"Royal?" Edmund repeated.

"Royal!" Kate scoffed.

A tightness gripped Edmund's gut. He'd never considered a royal connection. Crowns were common on a coat or arms, why not a ring? Edmund believed as Kate did. He assumed her to be the illegitimate by-blow of a lesser noble and a peasant woman.

"My thanks, sir." He placed a shilling in Beacham's hand before taking Kate's elbow and steering her out the door.

"Oh, Edmund!" Disconcerted, Kate spoke faster than a man could listen. The words fell in a wretched tumble from her mouth. " 'Tis as I expected. My father was of noble blood. He bedded a poor innocent servant girl. And when the girl discovered that she was with child, she stole his ring so that her babe would have a token."

She bit her bottom lip. The golden light in her eyes faded, replaced by dark shadows of conjecture. Her shoulders sloped; her steps slowed.

Edmund longed to comfort her, but other than taking Kate into his arms, which he could not do, he did not know how.

" 'Tis... 'tis a common happenstance."
Bloody hell, I am a blathering fool!

"Perhaps my mother was a bawdy house woman who lay with many men and—-”

"Kate, your imagination flies away with you."

She stopped midstep and gazed up at him. "There is only one way to still my imagination."

Edmund feared to ask the question, yet knew he must. "And what way would that be?"

"To find the truth. Let us go to another shop... to all the shops on Goldsmith Row."

Declaring her intent, she marched off.

He quickly caught up. "Kate, on the merest chance that there is a noble family behind your ring, we must be discreet."

"A by-blow." She spit out the word. "I truly am a by-blow."

"You cannot be certain."

"What other explanation can there be?"

"Mayhap you were born to peasants too poor to raise a child though they loved her very much. They made the supreme sacrifice by giving up their golden girl. 'Twas the only way to give her a better life."

She stared up at him. "Do you believe such a story?"

"Do you not believe it could be so?"

"Aye," she allowed at length, and grudgingly. "But explain the ring and the funds marked for my education."

"I cannot," Edmund confessed. "But I shall think on it. In the meantime, I understand there is a new Shakespeare play at the Rose Theater. I suggest we go."

"Now?"

"You must calm yourself before pursuing this matter further."

Kate heaved such a heavy sigh before replying that Edmund thought he felt the ground tremble. "I have read many of Shakespeare's plays, but I have never attended a performance of one."

"Come," he insisted. "We shall take a wherry to Southwark."

"A wherry?" Kate asked, lifting the pomander to her nose.

"A small boat to carry us across the Thames. We shall return to Goldsmith Row on the morrow."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise." His first promise to a woman, and the earth did not fall away from beneath his feet.

"Very well."

Pleased with himself for suggesting the perfect diversion, Edmund led Kate toward the river. At least for a time she would not be in despair over the origin of her birth.

In all likelihood she would never find her natural mother nor her father. 'Twas clear to him they did not care to be found.

* * * *

The Rose Theater's presentation of
Two Gentlemen of Verona
was in progress when Kate and Edmund arrived. Several bleacher seats, reserved for the aristocrats and gentry, were empty. With the slightest touch to the small of her back, Edmund guided Kate to a stone bench high above the pit, where a full view of the stage could easily be seen.

A mix of emotions tangled in her blood. The excitement of actually witnessing a play by William Shakespeare and the leaden disappointment that settled like spoiled mutton in her belly.

Kate had always realized hopes of finding her mother quickly were futile; still she had hoped. Worse, Edmund's goldsmith confirmed her fears. 'Twas plain to even a stranger that she'd been born a by-blow and abandoned. The planets had not been in auspicious alignment when she was born.

As she made herself as comfortable as possible on the stone bench, Kate conjured another story. Perhaps following Kate's birth her poor mother sought another position safe from the noble grasp. Mayhap the servant girl had married a farmer, birthed more children, and even now was searching for the child she'd given away.

With that happy thought Kate turned away from the mystery of her origins and turned her attention to the play.

Master Shakespeare had gathered untold accolades for his dramas and comedic plays alike. She could hardly believe she was sitting in a theater watching a performance with Edmund, Earl of Stamford, beside her. In her wildest imaginings, she had not dared to dream such a scenario. And Jutta, her astrologer, had never predicted it.

"Edmund, the women in attendance are wearing veils."

Indeed, it was deemed proper for women to be veiled at an outdoor theater performance. “We can return to Stamford House quickly and obtain a veil for you."

"We should miss the performance no matter how quickly."

"’Tis your choice."

Kate did not waffle over this decision. She would not miss the performance, for in all likelihood, she would not have the opportunity to see another during her stay in London.

Kate slanted the hero of her young girl's heart a sideways glance. Edmund towered over the other men present at the theater. Dressed in black silk and velvet, he exuded a commanding presence—and a pleasant scent of sandalwood. His wayward lock of ebony hair fell across his dark brow as if it were directing attention to the silver-green light in his eyes and the merry way they crinkled at the corners.

Kate could not be certain that the excitement bubbling up within her had more to do with Edmund's company than watching a play by Shakespeare. Unfastening her cloak, she turned her attention to the actors.

Kate understood full well why the playwright had Valentine and Proteus debating die merits and pitfalls of love. Somewhere in her laughter she sighed for Julia and her misadventures masquerading as a male. Kate understood the quickness and frustration of Silvia and thoroughly relished the drama and comedy, the story of friendship and love.

Because she lived a drama of her own. Loving the man at her side and knowing she could never reveal her love. Feeling the warmth of his body close to hers, the excited skip of her heart whenever Edmund smiled at her.

She felt his gaze upon her; she expected his sidelong glance was to determine if she were enjoying the play. Now and then his gaze lingered, and Kate felt the intensity of his scrutiny. Why? What did he seek? Edmund knew her better than any man. During those awkward moments, Kate shifted uneasily on the hard bench.

She'd misplaced her gloves and so had not worn any. During act three when Edmund caught her rubbing her cold hands together, he caught them up in his, clasping them both. With one hand he enveloped both of hers, warming them, sending sparks of pleasure through every limb, sparks that curled her toes and tingled her fingertips.

Barely able to catch her breath, Kate missed most of act four. By the fifth and last act, while gloriously aware of her hands engulfed by Edmunds', she'd resumed normal breathing and could once again concentrate on the actors.

"Lord Stamford?"

"James!" Edmund dropped Kate's hands as if they'd burst into flame, and rose to greet the gentleman who had approached him.

The handsome fellow was but a few inches shorter than Edmund, of fair complexion, and dusky blond hair, trimmed beard and moustache. His eyes were the shade of indigo velvet, reminding Kate of the purple-blue columbine growing wild in the wood. Dressed finely in blue brocade doublet, breeches, and stocks, he could easily turn a woman's head.

Jutta had never mentioned meeting a tall fair-haired man in London. Had the stargazer missed an important planetary conjunction?

"James Moore," Edmund repeated his greeting. "In faith!"

"I thought it was you. Missing your game with Cheltham?"

The smile vanished from Edmund's mouth. Within the blink of Kate's eyes he acquired a solemn visage. "Unfortunately. I had pressing family business to attend to."

"I see," James Moore said, looking straight at Kate, entrancing her with his blue eyes and enigmatic smile.

"May I introduce you to Kate Beadle, my aunt's gentlewoman? I accompanied Kate to an appointment with my barber surgeon earlier,"

Barber surgeon! Edmund lied. She had no toothache. Why would he lie? But no sooner had she asked the question to herself than the answer came to her.

An earl did not escort a gardener's daughter to the theater.

She could not fault him; she could only weep later. Alas, much later.

Moore swept off his plumed hat and bowed low. "I am enchanted, Kate Beadle."

"And I am pleased to meet you."

"James Moore is my barrister, Kate," Edmund explained, while rubbing the back of his neck. "He handles all legal matters for Rose Hall and Stamford House."

The barrister gazed past Edmund to Kate. "The city is blessed by your presence."

Oh, the honey dripped from Mr. Moore's lips.

James turned his attention back to Edmund. "Did you discover any business during your visit to Rose Hall that needs my attention, Lord Stamford?"

"No. Er, yes. Yes, indeed. Pray, could you attend me on the morrow at Stamford House?"

"I shall be happy to call upon you, my lord."

"After our business is finished, pray stay and sup with us," Edmund added. " 'Twill be a small party, only my aunt and Kate."

"I would enjoy that above all," the barrister replied. Once again, his eyes locked on Kate's in a most mesmerizing manner.

“ 'Tis done," Edmund said, giving Moore a hearty slap on the back.

"I shall see you on the morrow , . . and you, Mistress Kate."

As soon as Moore was out of earshot, Edmund lowered his voice. "James is an intelligent man and does quite well at business. I am certain you shall like him."

"He is exceedingly comely," Kate offered.

Edmund hiked a dark brow. "Do you think so?"

"My eyes tell me so!"

"Hmm. My barrister does not have a wife as yet," Edmund told her.

"Shhh!" a nearby patron admonished them.

Kate paid no mind. "Moore may take a wife at any time he wishes," she declared.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, my lord, like you. You may take a wife whenever you choose."

"When my business is finished, I shall take a wife. And you, mayhap, should think of marriage, too, ere you are too long in the tooth for an upstanding man."

"Edmund!"

"We are old friends. Cannot I speak the truth with you if not with anyone else?"

" 'Tis done. And I pledge to you that when my business is finished, I, too, shall look for a husband." Though she knew it would be impossible to love anyone as well as she loved Edmund.

"Shhh!"

"James Moore might prove to be the man for you."

"Do not play matchmaker, Edmund," she warned.

"Shhh!"

"Hush, Kate."

"Pray?"

" 'Tis frowned upon to talk in the theater—unless you are speaking to the characters, of course."

"Oh, fie!"

* * * *

Kate's anger at Edmund's arrogance slowly dissolved as she watched the remainder of the play. To think he would serve as matchmaker for her. She was more than capable of finding her own husband, when the time came. When she was ready.

Although some of the members of the afternoon audience threw rotting garbage upon the stage at the play's end, Kate applauded with gusto.

"Did you enjoy the performance, Kate?" Edmund asked.

"Aye! Did you not think it most diverting?"

His eyes met hers. His smile broadened. "Aye, Kate. Aye."

Seeking warmth, the crowd of play goers attempted to leave the theater at once. The late-afternoon chill nipped at Kate. Even with her hood raised, the tip of her nose stung and her ears burned. Although Edmund had a firm hold on her hand, she was buffeted in the swarming mass.

"My Lord Stamford?"

'Twas a woman's voice that stopped Edmund in his tracks.

Kate turned with him to regard the small veiled woman who stood behind them, firmly protected between two male escorts.

"Lady Judith!"

Judith Witherspoon. The marquis's daughter that Edmund meant to marry.

Chapter Seven

Circumstances will favor you...

Oh, fie! Face-to-face with Edmund's future bride.

Confronted with the woman who would one day become the Countess of Stamford, Kate could barely catch her breath. Her lungs squeezed shut.

Oh, how she longed to be elsewhere. Anywhere else. She yearned for the magic of a cunning woman able to make herself invisible. To be turned to dust, or to simply faint away and slip into the dark abyss of ignorant bliss.