Кейси Майклс - What a Lady Needs

“Yes, and I made a shambles of it last year. It was really quite enjoyable.”

“Kate,” Valentine said warningly.

“There’s no sense in pretending it didn’t happen, Valentine. Now is there, my lord?”

“I’m certain you were quite justified in your actions, my lady.”

“No, I wasn’t. I could have done any number of things. Walked off the floor, for one, cutting the man dead. Claimed a sudden indisposition and asked him to return me to my grandmother. Feigned an overturned ankle. Any number of things. I simply preferred my chosen rebuttal to his statement.”

“Again, may I say I’m certain you were quite justified.”

“Thank you.” She turned to Valentine. “Now, see how simple that was? Rough ground gotten over swiftly and smoothly. It had to be said, didn’t it? Elsewise, it would hang over us all. My goodness, she’s the barbarian who bloodied that man’s nose last year at Almacks.” She gave a slight toss of her head. “I feel much better now. Shall we cry friends, my lord, as you and Val have already done? We prefer to be informal here at Redgrave Manor.”

“I would be honored,” the marquis said with an inclination of his handsome head. “Kate.”

“Simon,” she answered, again feeling heat climbing into her cheeks. She was going to have to be extremely careful around this so pretty, so pleasing man. “I’m certain Dearborn is waiting outside, to show you to your rooms.”

As Kate rose, he stood up, as well. “I would like to change out of my traveling clothes, thank you.”

“We keep country hours, Simon,” Valentine told him. “Dinner gong goes at six, tea at ten and then early to rise. We might think about a ride over the estate in the morning?”

Simon looked to Kate. “Do you ride?” His tone implied if she didn’t, he wouldn’t, either.

“I do,” she said, “thank you for asking.”

He inclined his head to her once more. “My mount will be arriving shortly, if it hasn’t already, along with my coach and valet. I eagerly anticipate the dinner gong, so that we may become more acquainted.”

She dropped him a small curtsy, then watched as he strode out of the room. Grabbing up one of the well-cut sandwiches, she plunked herself back down on the soft couch and clunked her heels, one after the other, on the low table before crossing her legs at the ankle. “All right, where did you meet him?”

“Is it impossible for you to employ correct posture for more than ten minutes?” Val asked, seating himself on the opposite couch and repeating her action with his own legs.

She spoke around a bite of ham shoved between a split roll spread with their own homemade mustard. “No, but that doesn’t answer my question, does it?”

“Sussex. Somewhere in Sussex, I disremember where. We met again in London, at some insipid affair, and soon I was regaling him with the beauty of Kent. Did you have to bring up Almacks?”

“Of course I did. Everyone knows, even if Gideon made it clear no one was to talk about it. You can’t stop gossip, Val, you can only make it whisper instead of shout. Why else did you all decide I shouldn’t return for another year? Simon was sure to have heard, so why not admit it and be done?”

“I’m not certain I like you addressing him as Simon.”

Kate rolled her eyes. “I’m not overjoyed with his blatant flirting. You might consider advising him to not lay it on so thick and rare.”

“You don’t use cant expressions like thick and rare,” Valentine said, almost as if the correction was by habit, without having to think about it. “And I did not invite him here to flirt with you. You’re to be practicing on him, remember?”

Poor Valentine, trying so hard to elude the ensnaring net of his lies. “Yes, certainly. Such deep intrigue confuses me. Poor Simon has simply taken one look at me and succumbed. Much like Jeremy, except he can still speak. Being older, he probably knows Step Three, as well, don’t you think? Or should I say, shouldn’t you have thought of that before starting this? I mean, as it would appear your hoyden of a sister is irresistible when playing the lady.” Then she grinned at him.

Val sighed theatrically. “I never should have mentioned Jeremy. I think we need Trixie here, but she refuses to leave London, saying you’ve more than enough guardians here without dragging her away from her fun.”

“Fun? Jessica told me she was off to the countryside to attend a funeral.”

“Two funerals, actually. As I said, our grandmother didn’t want to be dragged away from her fun. And, no, I’m not going to explain that. It’s enough you were there to see—”

Kate held up one hand. “Ah-ah, I thought we weren’t going to talk about that. Although it was all rather jolly, except, of course, for that poor old fellow. You should have seen Gideon’s face, he was that appalled. I laughed so hard I ended up with a bout of the hiccups.”

“Dead men in our grandmother’s bed amuse you. Wonderful. May I now critique your first attempt at behaving like a lady?”

“No, I don’t think so. Was Simon in the army?”

“Now why the devil would you ask that?”

Kate shrugged, and sank a little lower on her spine. “I don’t know. Trixie trained us all to be observant. He eats like a man used to consuming his meals in a rush, and he walks with some command to his step. It seemed a logical conclusion.”

“Logical, but not completely correct. He served in the Royal Navy. Had his own command as a matter of fact. But his brother...died last year, so now he’s the marquis.”

Kate sat up a bit straighter. Aha, now she’d stumbled onto something. “You hesitated before you said died. Why?”

“Once in a while, I wish you wouldn’t be so awake on all suits. The man hanged himself. Nobody speaks of it, just as nobody speaks of that right cross of yours or the Redgrave family scandals, but everyone knows of it. Holbrook Ravenbill wasn’t in debt, a victim of some new heartbreak—any of the usual reasons for putting a period to one’s own existence, not as far as anyone knows. If he left behind any sort of explanation, Simon’s the only one who knows it, and no, I didn’t ask him. And neither will you.”

“Your confidence in me is sadly lacking, brother mine. I would never be so rude as to ask a grieving brother such a thing.” But he’ll tell me, eventually. “Now I suppose you’ll want me to change my clothes yet again before dinner, which is a sad waste of time.”

“Nobody said being a lady is easy,” Valentine quipped as she got to her feet.

“Nobody said it was logical, either. Just be grateful I have all those gowns upstairs that never got to see the light of day in London. But for now, I’m off to the west wing. Liam told me his grandfather told him old houses were sometimes built with hidden staircases that could lead all the way from the attics to secret rooms in the cellars, but with no other openings along the way. Odd, isn’t it? Since our grandfather ordered the construction of the west wing, I’ve been thinking perhaps Liam’s grandfather might know something about that construction, that it isn’t just a tale he told to entertain Liam.”

“You think our grandfather and father had everyone climb up to the attics just to descend four floors into the cellars? In a parade of masks and cloaks, I’d suppose, dragging a braying goat behind them?”

Kate pulled a face. “I didn’t say I was positive. And I would think only the journals could be hidden in such a place. I doubt they performed their silly rites in a cellar. But now that I don’t have to ask you and your friend Simon to move every heavy bed and couch pressed up against a wall, I thought I’d give it try.”

“There’s dedicated, Kate, and then there’s— Bloody hell, I don’t know what to call it.”