“Oh,” Kate said. And then, more slowly, as the import sank in—“Oh.”
“I know it’s not very usual. But nothing is in this family. Are you terribly scandalized?”
“No, not . . . terribly.” Though the revelation certainly put a few things in perspective. “But what of all those engagements? The duels Lord Drewe fought?”
“Harry tried her best during her season, and she loved the drama of suitors battling for her attention. But she could never go through with the weddings,” Lark explained. “Her heart was with Miss Ames all along. Don’t let her ranting mislead you. They’re devoted to one another. They’ve had a falling out, but they always mend it in time.”
“I heard that,” Harry said. “And you’re wrong, Lark. This time, we’re through. If we were true companions, as you say, she would have allowed me to accompany her to Herefordshire.”
Lark tilted her head. “Oh, Harry. You know Miss Ames’s family isn’t nearly so understanding as ours.”
Very few families were, Kate imagined.
“I know it well. They’re horrid to her.” Harry kicked at a tent pole with the squared toe of her boot. “Always have been, or else she wouldn’t have needed to be a paid companion in the first place. If she’d let me go along, I could have protected her.”
“I’m certain she misses you sorely,” Lark said.
Harry looked off at the horizon and released a sigh. “I’m off for a ramble. Perhaps the Long Man’s phallus is embarrassingly small and only visible on closer inspection.”
As Harry started off across the pastures, legs striding free in her divided skirt, Kate watched her with a twinge of sadness. Obviously, it pained her to be parted from someone she loved.
And what pained Harry, pained Kate. She was truly coming to care for these people. To lose them now would devastate her.
As if he knew her spirits needed a lift, Badger came shooting up from the meadow, attacking Kate’s skirts with muddy paws, sniffing around all the refreshments and smothering her in delightfully cold, tickling kisses.
Thorne approached soon after, but offered no pawing or kisses. A keen disappointment.
Aunt Marmoset tapped Kate’s shoulder and pointed. “There’s a picturesque church in that direction. I noticed it as we drove by, but I couldn’t make out the name. Be a dear, Kate, and satisfy my curiosity. Corporal Thorne,” she added, “kindly escort her.”
Kate smiled and rose to her feet, glad of the excuse to walk. She pocketed a few meat pies for Badger, and the three of them set off across the field, walking in the direction of the church.
Once they were safely out of earshot, Kate said gently, “You could try to be a little more sociable, you know.”
He made a gruff noise. “I’m never sociable.”
True enough, she supposed. “Why do you dislike the Gramercys so much?”
“I’m looking out for you.” He looked over his shoulder at the picnicking group. “There’s something not right about those people.”
“They’re unusual, I’ll grant you. But it’s only eccentricity. It’s what makes them so amusing and interesting and lovable. It’s what gives me hope that they might accept and love me. They value family bonds above scandal, disagreements, convention. Just because they’re a bit odd, I don’t see any reason for suspicion.”
“I do. I don’t trust them or their story.”
“Why not?” she said, hurt. The more agitated she became, the faster she walked. By now they were hurrying toward the church, and Badger ran to keep up. “Because you don’t think I could possibly be related to lords and ladies?”
He pulled to a halt, turned and fixed her with an intense look. “If I hadn’t spent the last year thinking of you as a lady, I promise you—things would be different between us.”
Her face heated. Other parts of her heated, too. She hadn’t regarded him this closely or directly in days, and now . . .
He was so stunning it hurt.
For a man with few manners and little grace, she now saw he was always immaculate in his attire, be it full uniform or what he wore today—crisply fitted breeches and a simple, dark coat that stretched capably across his broad shoulders. Nothing was fussy, just precise. It was as though fabric didn’t dare rumple in his presence. No button would be so bold as to fall out of line. His boots were polished to a blinding gloss.
And his face . . . Almost a week now since he’d seen her home from Hastings, and every time she looked at him, she still found his face to be that inexplicable, unbearable degree of handsome.
“Must you make this so difficult?” she asked. “You must know I’m all nerves, purely on the Gramercys’ account. They’ve been so kind. I want to be open and honest, and yet I’m afraid of letting my hopes soar too high. I don’t know my place with them, and that’s difficult enough without feeling confused about you, too. I’m pulled in too many directions.”