Shannon Drake - Reckless

And so…

He realized that he was now the one plotting.

He glanced at the clock, ticking away in the corner. The hour was growing late. Still, he strode through the house, anxious to saddle Alexander and ride out into the night.

No help for the hour.

Lord Avery would have to understand. And he would. He was a good fellow.

ETHAN HAD NO DIFFICULTY understanding that Kat was sneaking back into her own home. “I shall be watching for your safety, miss, and that is all.”

She smiled at him from the street. “Thank you. But I’m afraid your carriage will be quite evident here, in this street.”

He nodded somberly. “Then, miss, you should hurry.” He nodded his head toward the east. “It wasn’t so long ago that Jack the Ripper was at work, and his haunts are not so terribly far from here, and Lord knows, they never did catch that bloke, not that anyone will admit, so…please get on in, miss. I’ll not be leaving until you do so.”

“Thank you again, Ethan!” she said, and waving, hurried around to the side of the house and the trellis she could climb to her upstairs room. As she did so, she feared that she would emerge through her window into her room to find her father waiting in fury.

She crawled through the window into the darkened room and then nearly screamed as a form rose from the bed.

“Kat!”

“Eliza!”

Kat grasped her throat, then exhaled in a rush. Her heart was beating loudly enough to wake the dead, she thought. It slowed as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. Eliza was sitting up now, staring at her, wide-eyed, excited and full of questions.

“Did you see him? Lord Avery?” she demanded.

Kat shook her head, sitting on the bed next to her sister. “I’m afraid not. The day’s excitement was far too much for him.” She sighed deeply and hopelessly. “At least I wasn’t discovered sneaking out of the house. And as for Lord Avery—and David—I would have met them both tomorrow.”

“Where have you been, then?”

“Oh. Sir Hunter had a meal laid out,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Sir Hunter! You had a private dinner with the fellow? A tête-a-tête?”

“No! I ate, and that is all. It was…I suppose…a lovely meal. His housekeeper enjoys cooking.”

Eliza climbed off the bed and danced elegantly around the room. “A private dinner—with Sir Hunter MacDonald!”

“There was nothing all that private about it!” Kat protested.

“But…well, the man is exceptionally fine looking!”

“He is?”

Eliza paused, staring at her. “Are you daft, Kat? I’ve seen the sketches of him—and the photographs that have been in the journals. Furthermore, he is…pure legend! On the queen’s business in India! Cruising down the Nile, joining up with his old military friends on some great excursion! Sailing in one race or another and taking the cup! Oh, Kat!”

“Eliza, stop! Oh, he’s been quite decent, it’s just that I had to listen to his housekeeper rave on and on about him all day, and…don’t you see? In my heart, my mind, David is the perfect man,” Kat said. She looked woefully at her sister. “And now I never will meet him properly. Unless I can think of…something.” Her expression changed. “Papa really has no idea that I slipped out of the house?”

“None,” Eliza said a little sharply.

“What’s wrong?”

Eliza wrinkled her nose. “Lady Daws was here again! I was very afraid for a few minutes that you would be caught, because the wretched woman was insisting that she see you and give you a piece of her mind. Be warned—according to her, you are the basest of creatures, causing such a commotion, bringing the police out and, of course, worrying poor Papa. Luckily, he was firm when he insisted that you be allowed to rest. Why, I could hear her! The woman was actually halfway up the stairs when our father stopped her!”

“A close call indeed,” Kat murmured. “But…she didn’t come up. And I thank you, Eliza, for keeping my secret.”

Eliza laughed, “Little sister, it’s as if it’s the two of us against the world, at times. With that wretched woman to make life ever more miserable.”

“Well,” Kat said, “she does bring him a certain happiness.”

This time, Eliza let out an incredibly unladylike snort. “She flatters him! Then she takes his work and he gets a few shillings, and—”

“And what?” Kat said.

“She’s after him,” Eliza said.

“After him? Papa is a poor artist.”

“And a very handsome man. An extremely talented one, as we both know…but so often, artists are long dead before their genius is realized. Kat, I don’t know what it is, but I don’t trust the woman. She did not come with us once we moored the boat today, but then she returned tonight—acting as if she were so concerned about you! I stayed up here, of course, eavesdropping and pretending that we had both gone straight to sleep. I think she really wants the two of us out of the way! I’m telling you, she is looking to marry him.”

“That truly makes no sense,” Kat said. “She is, after all, Lady Daws. And Papa is a poor artist. A great one, but a poor one.”

“Sometimes men of great artistic talent do become known during their lives and are rewarded for it,” Eliza said. “And I can guarantee you that Lady Daws sees that in Papa, and the fact that she is Lady Daws does not mean that she is not in need of support. I think she only pretends that she has money of her own.”

“I’ve thought sometimes that she must make much more selling Papa’s art than what she gives to him,” Kat said worriedly. “She tells him, of course, that she works for a pittance, a small commission….”

“My thought exactly. She has been robbing him blind.”

“She cannot be in such sorry shape. I mean, she is Lady Daws. And she was married to Lord Daws.”

“But Lord Daws had a son by his first wife. The son inherited, and I think he probably despises his stepmother. I would!”

“Do you know that to be true?” Kat asked.

“No, I’m just willing to wager that it’s true. The son, Byron Daws, goes to university with your young swain, you know.”

“Does he, now.”

“Yes. But I never see him out sailing,” Eliza mused.

“Maybe he hates the water.”

“Maybe. Or has other interests,” Eliza said, shrugging. “There’s just so much about that woman that’s…well, frightening. It didn’t matter at first. At first, it seemed she was only being kind. At first, we all saw her as someone admirable. But then…well, to me, her designs on Papa became all the more evident. And, do you know what I heard?”

“No, what?”

“That there was some scandal in her past. That Lord Daws himself was nearly cast out of the family when he married her. But his father died before he could be cut out of the will.”

“Where did you hear this?”

“In one of the fabric shops,” Eliza said.

“Gossip!” Kat protested.

“Ah, but where there is smoke…”

“My dear sister, I think we must face the fact that we don’t like her, she doesn’t like us, but that we must all pretend that everything is fine—for Papa. And whatever the past, she is not an artist herself, but knows art. She finds and sells the work of others,” Kat said. “She makes a living, and we are doing better now than we were when Papa had to go out and sell his work himself.”

“I do not believe she is satisfied with what she is making. She will rob unknown artists like Papa blind,” Eliza said.

“Well,” Kat said very practically, “I don’t care much for her, either. But we’re both grown. And soon enough, we’ll both be gone, either to find a means of support ourselves or to be married. So even if we don’t trust her and don’t like her, if she makes Papa happy…”