Lord Nathaniel Grayson, the Earl of Shively, tapped his walking stick impatiently upon the floor of the carriage. He pulled a gold pocket watch from his waistcoat, checked the time and returned the piece to its rightful place. With no appointment there was nothing for which he was late, yet he still was impatient to arrive at his destination — Talcott House, home of Miss Katrina Wickersham.
He had only learned of Miss Wickersham's existence in the previous forty-eight hours. In the midst of preparations for the London season which was about to commence, he had been distracted by correspondence from his father’s solicitor. The solicitor revealed some information to him about his late father's estate which shocked Nathaniel and it had caused him great consternation.
Lord Grayson did not care for surprises. He meant to find out what sort of charlatan this Miss Wickersham was and to make clear to her, face to face, that her days of easy money had come to an end. His father had been a soft touch for any sort of hard luck story, whether based in fact or purely fiction. It had frustrated Grayson to no end to see his father’s fine character abused in such a way. Since ascending to the earldom upon his father’s demise, Grayson had divested the estate of several costly sponsorships. He had believed all of his father’s follies had been cut off, so when he learned of one Miss Katrina Wickersham and the handsome sum which she had received on a regular basis over the last ten years, he had rearranged his travel plans to include an unannounced stop at Talcott House, home of the aforementioned Miss Wickersham.
Finally the carriage turned up the long drive to Talcott House. The buildings of the estate were all well-kept and the grounds included an assortment of gardens filled with colorful blossoms in many different shapes and sizes. Although he had no specific expectations about the appearance of the estate to which he traveled, he had to admit that he was taken aback by the attractiveness of what he observed.
When the carriage stopped he alighted quickly and glanced around taking in the ambiance of the estate. It was strangely relaxing, as well as intriguing to him. As he headed toward the front door intending to use his walking stick to rap upon it to announce his arrival, laughter coming from the side yard caught his attention. It sounded as though quite a collection of young ladies were gathered there based upon the volume and variety of voices he heard. Curious, he took a most uncharacteristic action and diverted himself from his planned route and moved around the building to peek into the garden.
He gasped when he took in the scene before him. At least a dozen young ladies, all quite well-groomed, were gathered together in a diversity of activities. While there was nothing wrong with young ladies engaged in outdoor entertainments, he encouraged fresh air and sunshine for all, he could not help but notice that although these young ladies were clearly of a marriageable age, their dress and demeanor depicted persons who were much younger.
Two girls enjoyed swings hung from a large tree while two others pushed them from behind. Rather than having their hair piled atop their heads, as was the style for proper young ladies, he noticed all of the young women had their hair in braids or pigtails. The two girls on the swings both sported braids which flew out behind them as they moved higher and higher into the air.
Another gathering of young ladies played hopscotch. It was from that group where the majority of the laughter arose. In the middle of the players his eyes were drawn to one young lady in particular. She was without a doubt the most beautiful creature he ever beheld. She was diminutive in stature but clearly a mature young lady based upon the way she filled out the dress, and its accompanying pinafore, which she wore. She smiled and laughed and it was the most magical sound he had ever heard, but what was most magnificent about this young lady was her hair.
Golden curls framed her face and trailed down her back, held in place by a crisp white ribbon. The ringlets surrounding her face gave her an ethereal look. She was like a walking, talking china doll. She bent down to retrieve her hat which had apparently just fallen off, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her shapely figure. He could easily imagine grasping her hips, pulling her flush against his body, and holding her in place while he leaned down to kiss her.
He stood staring, completely unaware of the passage of time or his surroundings, his focus solely on the blonde haired beauty. She donned the hat and skipped away from the larger gathering of girls with two of her friends, their heads bent together in intense conversation, as if they were sharing the most scandalous of secrets. Or so he imagined.
“You there,” a strident voice called him and hurried footsteps caught his attention and drew him from his distracted thoughts. Straightening, he turned in the direction of the voice. A woman, not significantly older than those gathered in the garden, approached him at a brisk pace. Her body was lean and trim, her hair piled appropriately upon her head and tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. No loose curls bounced around her face.
“Sir,” she said, “may I inquire as to the nature of your business here?” Although her words were polite, her demeanor and the firm set of her jaw indicated that she had no interest in friendly chit-chat. Chastened at being caught out, Lord Grayson turned and gave a slight bow.
“Good afternoon,” he said, “I am Lord Grayson. I have come in search of Miss Katrina Wickersham. Might you be her?”
Her sharp eyes appraised him from head to toe. He noticed a twinge of recognition when he told her his name, though she quickly smoothed her features so as not to betray any of her inner thoughts. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she said. “What is the nature of your business here, Lord Grayson? I do not believe we have an appointment.”
“No, we do not. I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I am en route to London and having only learned of the existence of Talcott House yesterday, I decided to make an unscheduled visit. I hope I am not intruding.”
“If you did not wish to intrude, you would have written to announce your intention to visit.”
Having no ready response to her accurate and unflinching assessment of him and his motives, Grayson dispensed with social pleasantries as well. “I assume you are… or were… acquainted with my late father, Lord Henry Grayson. He passed away some eight months ago.”
Though her posture indicated more than a small amount of pique at his intrusion into her domain, he noted that her features softened at the mention of his father.
“Yes,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice, “your father was a fine and generous man. I was quite saddened by his passing and wish to offer you my sincerest condolences.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I have some matters which I should like to discuss with you.”
“Then perhaps you ought to have made an appointment with me. Do you think so little of the time of others that you believe you can simply roll up the driveway and an entire household will come to a halt to accommodate your whim?”
Miss Katrina Wickersham was clearly a formidable woman who was unimpressed with him. It was no wonder his father had taken a special interest in her, though he still did not understand exactly what that interest was.
“It was rude of me to presume. I apologize,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. “My solicitor has lately informed me that my father had allocated a monthly stipend to you.”
“And you assumed I was some long lost love of your father’s for whom he felt obligated?” She held his gaze and he was the first to look away, thereby giving her the answer to her question.