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Authors: Emily Hendrickson

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BOOK: The Roguish Miss Penn
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“We’re off,” Lord Ramsey announced as they were pushed from the shore by eager hands. He managed the oars with surprising skill as the little craft shot out into the center of the river, then settled into a gentle drift in the current.

When she unfurled it Katherine discovered that the white silk parasol had ruffles around the edges that made her feel positively decadent. “How deliciously wicked,” she said, chuckling as she gave the parasol an experimental twirl. What a pity Melly couldn’t see Katherine at this moment. But, then, knowing Melly, she might well manage to do that. Katherine leaned against the cushions and twirled the parasol again.

There were several swans farther along the bank and an enormous old willow cascaded its branches into the water, trailing leaves in pretty patterns of green and bronze.

“How very lovely, to spend an autumnal day on the river. I love the water. Sometimes I lie on my bed and watch the ripple of passing boats reflected on the ceiling of my room.” She trailed a finger in the slow green river as they more or less drifted along. Lord Ramsey made the motions of rowing, but actually seemed to exert little power and no direction at all.

“Katherine, about what happened. . .“ Lord Ramsey seemed at a loss for words.

“Which happening do you mean?” She gave the parasol another twirl, decided she adored it, and settled back to study her escort, a very pleasurable occupation.

“Well, the kiss,” he replied in a low voice. “I meant no disrespect, but you did anger me and at the time it seemed an excellent way to stop you.”

She managed a thoughtful nod of her head. “It certainly silenced me.” It also had made her feel like a wilted daisy. Except a dead daisy didn’t experience the sort of thrilling sensations she had.

“That it did.” Seeing that Katherine didn’t seem to be the least angry, Philip was encouraged. “You noticed your friend Miss Bonner as we drove through town?”

“She was flirting with Mr. Weekes, I noticed.” Again Katherine marveled that it didn’t trouble her in the least that Melly was setting her cap at Michael. For a long time Katherine had daydreamed about Michael and how it would be when the magic day came and he would get a living. Now the day had arrived and she was far more interested in floating down the river with Lord Ramsey. If only, she considered wistfully, he might be ordinary Philip Fairfax rather than the lofty, aristocratic Lord Ramsey.  She might as well wish for the moon, silly, foolish girl that she was.

“You come here to sketch at times?” Philip offered, wondering what was going on in her mind.

“When I can evade the cows, not to mention the small boys that love to pester a person. Why they persist in playing their games right beneath one’s nose, I shall never know.”

“But, then, it is a delightful nose.”

Why, thought Katherine with amazement, he is flirting with me. She giggled, something she never did. “What a tarradiddle.” Placing one experimental finger on her nose, she grinned at him. “Very ordinary, sir.”

“I used to be Philip. Can’t I be Philip again?”

Katherine sobered at those words. It was all very well to fantasize, but reality was reality. “You know it would be most improper.” Not to mention hopeless, she longed to add. One didn’t do that sort of thing, however.

“Who is to know, when we are alone?”

A duck paddled along the boat, giving them an inquisitive look before turning aside. “Alone?” Her lips curved into a half smile. “I doubt that we are unseen, even if we may feel ourselves to be alone.” She gestured ahead to where the town began.

They drifted, for the most part. Katherine was totally unconcerned as to who might see her casually sprawled against a pile of pillows in the little green boat. Students strolled along the grass by the river. At the Bridge of Sighs, Katherine could make out several figures she recognized even through the grillwork of the Gothic windows.

“I believe that is your friend we just passed. Miss Bonner.” Philip glanced up to study the couple standing on the center of the bridge. He was glad they saw him with Katherine, for he hoped it would draw a final response one way or another.

“Yes, it was. She was with Michael, too.” Curious, it didn’t even hurt to say the words.

“You can say Michael and not Philip? I protest.”

“I did not mean for it to slip out, but I shall oblige you. It seems the least I can do for the one who is giving me this treat.” She fluttered her eyelashes in the coy manner she had seen Melly use.

Philip laughed.

“I do not think that was amusing.”

“What shall you do if the actors refuse to permit you to join them? They are a superstitious lot.”

“Yes, I could see that today. Assure them that nothing else will happen, I fancy. You said you had the men check everything and that all appeared safe.” She watched his face, taking care to observe a possible change of expression in his eyes. If only they were not shaded, what with his having his back to the sun.

“I personally went over all the apparatus. I want to take no chances.”

Katherine sobered at the inflection she caught in his voice. Was she imagining things? Or was Lord Ramsey overly concerned?

Then she caught sight of her house. “Look, over there. Poor Gabriel, he looks utterly wretched.”

“I fail to see a wounded expression on its beak. Isn’t that your Cousin Sophia coming down to the bank of the river?”

“I believe it is. Come, let us give poor Gabriel a ride with us,” she commanded, although very nicely.

Lord Ramsey had done well enough while all that was required to maintain their progress took an occasional guiding stroke of an oar. But to cross the current, albeit a lazy one, required a bit of maneuvering. He plunged both oars into the water, pushing, pulling, turning about until Katherine feared they were going to overset the boat. She sat up in alarm, determined to protect her new parasol with the pretty ruffles. “Look out,” she cautioned as he headed straight for the bank, dead-on.

“It was your idea,” he muttered as he attempted to draw the boat alongside the bank without throwing Katherine as well as himself into the Cam.

“Well,” Cousin Sophia said, “that was a silly bit of work. What do you propose? If you think for a moment I’ll join you in that flimsy craft, think again. Better off taking that stupid goose.”

“Sophia,” cried Katherine, very affronted at these unkind words.

“We came for Gabriel,” Lord Ramsey said through clenched teeth. Whether he was a bit angry or merely trying not to laugh, Katherine didn’t know. She had no desire to know, either.

“Come, Gabriel.”

The goose waddled down to the water, looked over the boat with what Philip thought was a malicious leer, then hopped down into the river. The goose swam close to his mistress, the one human in the world he genuinely seemed to regard with what might be termed affection.

“Come on, then,” Katherine said with patience.

Philip thought it a great pity she didn’t have a clutch of children to fuss over, what with the forbearance she exhibited. He watched while she scooped up the bird, depositing it gingerly on the bottom of the boat. The white parasol had been carefully placed as far away from the dripping bird as might be.

Philip shook his head. “This has to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever seen, taking a goose for a ride in the boat.” He had wanted Katherine to himself. The bird intruded, for it took her attention away from him, where he wished it.

“He’s been feeling very blue-deviled lately, poor thing.” Katherine gently stroked Gabriel, and the bird responded to her as he would to no other; he placed his head on her lap. If he’d have been a cat, he’d have purred.

“I don’t believe what I am seeing,” Philip muttered as he kept a wary eye on the bird in the boat.

Suddenly Gabriel perked up at the sight of a gaggle of geese along the far shore, which actually was not all that far away, given the narrowness of the river in this area.

“I suspect your pet wants to find a friend.”

“A lady friend, perhaps? Wrong time of year, is it not?” Katherine paid no heed to the man at the oars, which was just as well, for he was trying hard not to laugh at her as they drifted beneath the Silver Street Bridge.

“Oh, dear,” she murmured as the boat went around a bend in the river. There beyond the trees that gracefully leaned over the water was Sheep’s Green on one side while on the other was Coe Fen. And the warm autumn afternoon had brought out the boys from the university. They were jumping off the riverbank of Coe Fen into the water, and they were quite, quite without clothes of any sort.

Before she could put up her parasol to protect her eyes from such a shocking sight, Katherine was aware of the band of pink bodies splashing about, mostly diving beneath—thank the good Lord—the water. She buried her head, holding her parasol at an angle and keeping it directly in line with the shouts and laughter. Never in her life had she been in quite such an embarrassing position.

“You needn’t laugh, you know,” she snapped. “And you might row a bit faster, if you please.”

“It is vastly amusing, Kate,” he said with a chuckle.

Annoyed at his calling her by that dratted name, she raised her parasol to shoot him a narrow look. “I am not Kate.”

“Sometimes you are."

Another pink body jumped into the river within sight, and Katherine shifted the white silk barrier again. Curious to know why he persisted in calling her by a name she had always fought to avoid, she said, “Why?”

“You like to argue, and do it adorably, if I may be so bold to say so.” His eyes held that warm glow she had observed on several other occasions.

Katherine forgot all about the pink bodies on the riverbank to lose herself in that gaze. She decided that anyone who wished to pay her a fulsome compliment could be as bold as he wished within reason, of course. She had not forgotten that improper kiss. And then she wondered what a proper kiss might be like. What a pity she couldn’t ask.

“And what has your brow so wrinkled in puzzlement, my sweet Kate?” he teased.

As he so often was able to do, he caught her by surprise and she replied before thinking. “I merely wondered what a proper kiss might be like.” Then she realized what she had said and blushed a deep rose while the parasol dipped lower than before.

“Kate, dear Kate. Tempt not a desperate man. What did I do before I met you?” He chuckled in a manner Katherine found rather endearing, in spite of her being so flustered.

Her salvation came in the form of Gabriel. He had decided he wished to join his feathered friends and waddled in his most ungainly manner to the side of the boat. Taking one awkward step on Katherine’s leg, he managed to leverage himself to the point when he could drop over the side of the boat.

“Heavens!”

“It will be just fine. Perhaps I ought to find Gabriel a friend in safer waters,” he mused.

Katherine hadn’t the foggiest notion of what he meant by that odd remark, and decided to let it slip past her. She turned to search for Gabriel, espied the pink-skinned boys in the distance, and promptly gave up her hunt as the boat slipped past the small island in the river. The boys and the geese were left behind.

The town now far behind them, Katherine wondered how Philip would manage the return journey, given his questionable ability at the oars.

She twirled her pretty parasol while she studied Philip. The afternoon sun picked out glints of copper in his hair and outlined his broad shoulders admirably. He was more than handsome, she decided. He had a special aura about him, a quality that made him stand head and shoulders above any others. Ninian Denham might be able to play the hero. Philip actually was one.

That was precisely when it struck her, the truth of the matter. The reason why she didn’t care a fig about Melly flirting her head off with Michael Weekes was because she, stupid, foolish Katherine Penn, had tumbled disastrously into love with Philip, Lord Ramsey, the son and heir of the Earl of Fairfax. The viscount was enormously wealthy and undoubtedly sought by every eligible girl in London when he went up for the Season.

How very, very amusing. Katherine swallowed with care, noting she had an obstruction in her throat and that her vision blurred. What was she to do? To allow him to know she had succumbed to his abundant charm was unthinkable. What had a provincial girl, the daughter of a mere professor to offer the likes of Lord Ramsey?

“Katherine? Are you all right? The boat is becoming damp, I expect. I’ll put in here and hope that my man can find us.” Philip quickly brought the boat to shore. He helped Katherine out of the little boat with great courtesy.

She stood holding the frivolous parasol in her hand, looking at the boat as though it would take all her dreams with it when it went up river once again. Absurd girl, she chided herself. All she was required to do was be herself. He would never suspect her of harboring such flights of fancy in his regard. Ludicrous. Mad. Quite, quite silly.

“I believe I see him now,” she said with a calm she certainly didn’t feel.

Philip touched her arm, then tilted up her chin, looking deeply into her troubled eyes. He wished he knew what thoughts were spinning about in her head.

“Had a fine ride, I’ll be bound,” said the driver when he reached them. He caught his breath after his run, glancing with distaste at the craft pulled ashore. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

Katherine paused, watching the little green boat as it disappeared up the river and around the bend. Then she turned and joined Lord Ramsey as they walked to the lane where his carriage awaited them.

“It’s over,” she said, supposedly referring to the boat ride, or possibly their day on the river.

Philip had an odd feeling that she meant more, but what?

 

Chapter 12

 

Cousin Sophia did not say a word about Katherine sailing down the Cam with Lord Ramsey without a chaperone. She did inquire about the trip, however.

“It was pleasant,” said Katherine in the blandest voice she could summon.

“That was a charming parasol he gave you. Odd, I would have expected you to be in raptures after such a treat.” Sophia studied her niece, then picked up a piece of needlework. It was a design of acanthus leaves, and very artistic. One could almost tell what the thing was.

BOOK: The Roguish Miss Penn
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