Marguerite Kaye - Scandal At The Midsummer Ball - The Officer's Temptation / The Debutante's Awakening

Bloodline and pedigree, those most valuable things to the aristocracy—of their children and their horses, Katerina thought sardonically. And after that, power and influence. Oh, and wealth, of course, though that seemed to come a poor third. Pomp and circumstance, those were the things that mattered when a match was made. There was no place for love, and as to desire—desire, as she well knew, was sated in less formal relationships, with those who could not claim blood or pedigree, or whose blood and pedigree, no matter how revered in their own world, was not revered in the right world.

It did not matter what one was, but how one came to be. A mere accident of birth, yet in the Duke of Brockmore’s world, which was also Fergus’s world, her birth excluded her for ever, no matter how much of an aristocrat she was in her own right. The guests at Brockmore Manor might look up to her on the tightrope, but they would look down their noses if they encountered her on the ground. More likely, they would not even recognise her. Should she make the unforgivable mistake of trying to enter their world however, that would be a very different thing. Not that she would try. Not that she wanted to.

The space next to the portrait of the current duke and duchess, unlike all the others, was not filled with smaller portraits of children. Instead a painting of a weak-chinned man in his forties was hung just below their images. Katerina peered at the label. ‘“Robert Penrith,”’ she read. ‘“Nephew to the Fourth Duke, and Heir to the Brockmore Title.”’

Pity stirred in her breast, looking at the painting, for it starkly drew attention to the Brockmores’ childless state. A very galling state for such a dynasty, she suspected. So much power and influence, so much wealth, so much pomp and circumstance the Brockmores had, yet they were forced to expend it on nephews and nieces and cousins.

Perhaps one day Fergus’s children would adorn the walls here, if he married Lady Verity. It was an unpalatable thought. Turning away from the gallery, Katerina ran lightly down the central staircase, across the polished chequered tiles of the reception hall, through the ballroom and on to the terrace. The blue waters of the lake were irresistible. Crossing the velvet green of the lawn, a flutter of scarlet silk caught her eye. The statuesque beauty clad in her habitual crimson, Lillias Lamont had not joined the mystery tour and nor had her companion, also dressed in red silk. Sir Timothy Something. They made a very odd pair as they disappeared into the maze. Proof that opposites could attract.

Katerina did not need proof of that. She and Fergus were not so much opposites, as from opposite worlds. In many ways they were so similar, yet in that most important regard they were utterly different. Fergus and Lady Verity, now they ought to be a perfect match, yet that scene between them this morning—if she had not witnessed Lady Verity’s transformation herself, she would not have believed it. Had they resolved their differences? Fergus had been furious when he’d gone after her, but Fergus had an enormous amount at stake. Enough to force him into obeying orders, no matter how unpalatable?

He was, as yesterday’s conversation in the maze had proved, an honourable man, and at heart, above all, a soldier who loyally carried out orders. But marriage to a woman who for reasons quite unfathomable, did not understand how fortunate she was? He deserved better.

Turning the corner of the boating house, she saw the subject of her musings standing on the edge of the jetty, staring out over the water and quite lost in thought. He had changed out of the clothes he’d worn for this morning’s acrobatics. His black boots were so highly polished they shone like mirrors. Since his coat lay over one of the pier’s bollards, Katerina had the opportunity to admire the way his sand-coloured pantaloons clung to the taut contours of his rear, and she took unashamed advantage of it. The back of his waistcoat was fawn-coloured silk. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, as they had been the first time she’d met him, displaying tanned, sinewy forearms. There were golden streaks in his hair that she’d not noticed before.

As she stepped on to the jetty, Fergus turned around. He had been frowning, but the instant he saw her, his expression cleared, his mouth softened into a smile that made her stomach lurch, and he held out his hand in welcome.

‘I was just thinking about you,’ he said, ‘and here you are.’

‘I was just thinking about you,’ Katerina replied, ‘and here you are.’ She took his hand. His fingers twined with hers. ‘You did not go on the mystery tour?’

‘I’ve a mystery of my own to resolve. What to do with my life,’ he clarified, when she looked confused. ‘I’ve come to a—let’s say an arrangement—with Lady Verity, that we won’t suit. Truth is, she could just about stomach me, but she couldn’t stomach Egypt.’

‘Oh, Fergus.’ She stared at him wide-eyed, more horrified than relieved.

‘Aye, I know, it doesn’t bear thinking of, but at the end of the day, I’d rather be stuck behind a desk than stuck in a marriage of someone else’s making.’

‘Have you spoken to the duke?’

‘Which one of the two do you mean? We’ve agreed that it’s best to wait until the end of the week for me to inform Brockmore. Until then, I’ll join in enough to keep face, and no more. And after the weekend—well, then I’ll face the other duke, and—ach, but you know I will think about that later. To be honest, at the moment I’m just relieved. I should have known, when it was so bloody—blasted difficult to bring myself up to the mark, that it was wrong.’

‘You are too hard on yourself. The pressures—especially from Wellington. All of your life as a soldier, you have obeyed him.’

Fergus smiled warmly at her. ‘You understand. I somehow knew you would.’

She could not resist reaching up to smooth down his rebellious kink of hair. ‘I think it will be very difficult for you to tell him so, to his face. I think you will need every bit of your courage.’

He caught her hand in his. ‘I’ll think of you, when I do. I’ll think of you flying high on that tightrope, defying gravity. But right now, I’d rather not dwell on it, if you don’t mind. In fact, what I was actually thinking was that I’d like to get away from the machinations of the Brockmore family tomorrow. A day out, the chance to explore a bit of the countryside. I don’t suppose you’d like to accompany me?’

Katerina did not have to think twice. ‘I would like that very much.’

Fergus turned her hand over to press a kiss to her palm. ‘The pleasure, Miss Vengarov, will be all mine.’

Chapter Four

Tuesday June 17th

Brockmore Manor House Party

Programme of Events

Performance of Aerial Dexterity by

the Legendary Alexandr Vengarov

‘This looks like a perfect picnic spot. What do you think?’

‘Perfect,’ Katerina agreed, though she was looking at Fergus rather than their surroundings. Dressed in a bottle-green riding coat and leather breeches with top boots, there was none the less an unmistakably military air in the way he sat imperiously astride his horse. The mount which Cade Retton, the Duke of Brockmore’s discerning Master of the Horse, had selected for him was a huge, highly strung stallion, but Fergus had brought the massive beast to heel with remarkable ease. Katerina had been relieved when Mr Retton graciously provided her with a docile, impeccably behaved mare.

They had set out mid-morning, riding across country, skirting the little estate village of Brockmore, through narrow lanes redolent with the scent of honeysuckle, past fields of wheat and hops waving lazily in the breeze. Now, in the shade of a little copse, where a shallow stream burbled contentedly along its pebble-strewn bed, they dismounted, Fergus loosely tethering the horses while Katerina spread a blanket out on the grassy banks that flanked the stream.