Chapter Twenty-Two
The Marquess of Westbury arrived three days after Robert had dismissed Bertie. Catherine was up and about and very glad to see him.
“Thank you so much for coming, Father,” she said, kissing him. Putting an arm through his, she led him back to the conservatory, where he would be most comfortable.
“Robert is being a perfect donkey,” she said. “Sir Bertie Backman, the baronet I told you about, rescued me from the attack in the East End. He is a very good man, and I think you would get along exceedingly well with him; however Robert will not have him in the house. And he is being a horrible tyrant. He won’t allow me to go out, either!”
“It sounds like he is worried about you,” said her father gently. He sat down on a stool in the conservatory. “It is just as well I came here. No one has been seeing to these plants.”
Catherine clenched her fists. “Father! I need your attention! There is something I have not told you. When we were in Dorset . . .” She proceeded to tell him of her near encounter with the smugglers. “Since then, there have been three different attacks on me. Sir Bertie and William are looking into it. Robert cannot be bothered. He just wants to keep me housebound so he doesn’t have to worry about me.”
Her father studied her carefully. “It is not like you to exaggerate, so I suppose I must take you seriously. How does this baronet fit into the picture? And Lord William?”
“William is only involved because of his position at the Home Office. But Sir Bertie has been part of the story from the beginning. He was in Dorset at a house party during the time I was there last winter. I told you about him, remember? He came to our ball.”
“Tell me more about this man, Katie.”
“It is not as Robert supposes. He is not the least encroaching. If anything, I have encouraged him. He has been all that is thoughtful and kind.” She picked a yellow leaf off the lemon tree and twirled it between her fingers. “He saved my life when I was attacked in the East End. Robert was on his way to Newmarket, so Sir Bertie stayed by me and sent for Miss B., who made certain I did not slip into a coma.”
As she felt herself the object of her father’s scrutiny, she went on, “Miss B. and Lady Clarice think very well of him. Robert does not, only because he is a baronet.”
“I will not think kindly of him if he is toying with your affections.”
“To do him credit, I believe he may think I am still attached to Lord William.”
Her father put his fingers under her chin and tilted it up so he could read her face.
“It sounds as though you haven’t been exactly frank with each other.”
“You are correct, Papa. I haven’t wanted to presume anything.”
“Robert is off to Newmarket again. I should like to meet this man who has so impressed you. I owe him my thanks, after all.”
Catherine thought for a few moments. What would Sir Bertie think if she invited him to dinner with her father? Would he come?
“Do you know the Wellinghams from Somerset, Father?”
“I knew the old viscount. I have met the heir only a couple of times.”
“He is with the Foreign Office and very engaging. I think you would like him. He is Sir Bertie’s greatest friend. In fact, Sir Bertie is staying with Lord Wellingham now. He was not down from his estate in Oxfordshire until recently. I do not think he plans to stay long in town. He brought his widowed sister and niece and nephew with him.”
“Well, let us have the whole crowd over for a dinner party. It is time I became better acquainted with my neighbor, too. His father has been deceased these ten or eleven years.”
“I think that is a fine idea!” said Catherine, much cheered.
“You are fond of this man,” he said.
Catherine looked out the glass panes of the room into the garden, which was a riot of spring flowers. “I am. He is nothing like William.”
Her father sighed. “I am very glad about that.”
“You never liked William?”
“He did not make you happy. You were either in alt or in despair. That is not a good recipe for a happy life.”
“You are right. But you agreed to the marriage!”
“I had not spent enough time with you and William to realize the disastrous effect he had on your emotions. I went on Robert’s recommendation.”
“Robert likes him because his father is the wealthiest man in England. That never mattered a jot to me. I hope you will make up your own mind the next time someone asks for my hand.”
“Is this baronet likely to do so?”
“I don’t think so. Sometimes I think he cares about me, but Robert has been very severe on him.”
“I look forward to meeting him.” He stood and looked at the rather peaked lemon tree. “Now then, what really concerns me, at the moment, is this threat against you. I believe you should come with me down to Somerset, dear girl.”
“The man thinks I can identify him, especially after an incident at the Fotheringill ball.” She told her father what had taken place that night. “But I do not want to be barred from London forever.”
“Just until the man is caught, darling.”
“I think the only hope of catching him is when he goes after me again.”
“Katie, I certainly will not consider using you as bait! Perhaps this Sir Bertie will have a better idea”
* * *
Lady Wellingham, to whom Catherine had addressed her invitation, replied that the party would love to have dinner and meet her father, all except Lady Deveridge, who was preparing to leave London on the morrow. On pins and needles about the meeting, Catherine dressed with care that evening. Was Sir Bertie leaving tomorrow as well?
She wore a new gown of deep green trimmed with gold that made the best of her coloring. Parker dressed her hair with care, as the lump on her scalp was still tender. She was pleased with the effect—half up and half down, with ringlets just touching her shoulder. Catherine was aware that she looked her best.
Gratified that her father had suggested the dinner party when he generally was not a social person, she decided that he really must have an interest in meeting Sir Bertie. She was glad, for the man had behaved in a heroic manner indeed.
The party arrived just after eight o’clock. Catherine and her father met them in the drawing room, where she introduced everyone.
“Sir Bertie,” her father said, “I understand I owe you a great debt. I can never adequately express my gratitude for your rescue of Catherine from her attackers.”
“I was thankful that I was to hand, your lordship. It was indeed providential.”
Lord Wellingham’s sister, Miss Arabella Saunders, whom Catherine had thought to invite, clutched her hands beneath her chin, saying, “It was ever so romantic!”
Catherine blushed. “I promise, it wasn’t romantic at all! I was lying on the dirt, and my attackers were filthy brutes.”
“But when you saw Bertie come for you . . .”
“I did not even see him, Miss Saunders. I was unconscious. It was not at all like the best romances, I assure you.”
The girl looked dashed. “How disappointing.”
Catherine laughed. “Yes, it was very disappointing!”
Sir Bertie, sipping his Madeira, had been following this exchange. “I wasn’t wearing my mask and sword, either,” he added.
Arabella gave a small pout.
“Catherine tells me you hail from Oxfordshire,” Lord Westbury said to Sir Bertie.
“Yes. My family has been there since the Flood, I think. Lower Heyford.”
“My daughter also says you are an Egyptologist.”
“I confess it’s true. I became enthralled when I first saw the Rosetta Stone years ago. My brother-in-law brought some antiquities home from Egypt. Perhaps you have seen them in the British Museum?”
“No. I am afraid I have been meaning to go for years but haven’t done so. Did you study the subject at Oxford?”
“I did,” said Sir Bertie. “But new facts about the civilization are being uncovered all the time with the study of new finds.”
“Sir Bertie lectures at the University, Papa,” said Catherine. “He is even having a go at translating the Rosetta Stone.”
“It sounds rather like my obsession with botany,” said her father.
Catherine was very pleased that Sir Bertie was making such a good impression. As the two continued their conversation, she asked Lady Wellingham how she was feeling.
“As though I am increasing,” she said. “I am so glad your father has come to London. Is it really true that Lord Redmayne threw Bertie out of the house after he had rescued you?”
Lady Wellingham’s words shocked Catherine. Of course, it was true. But she had seen it only as Robert’s small-mindedness, whereas it really was an egregious insult. Did Sir Bertie hold it against her?
“I cannot be responsible for Robert’s actions. He is a complete snob. That is why I asked my father to come up to London. He is very grateful for Sir Bertie’s actions.”
Lady Wellingham lowered her voice. “I do not think Bertie believes he should pursue the connection. He has not said so, but he is very discouraged.”
Her words gave Catherine a ray of hope. Certainly, he would not be discouraged if he did not care for her!
During the meal, Catherine had placed Sir Bertie next to her father at the head of the table, with Lord Wellingham at his other hand. Their conversation had switched to the Gentleman Smuggler.
“Have you seen anyone hanging about Westbury House?”
“No,” said her father. “But I am come up to London only today. We have not stirred from the house. But of course I am on the lookout.”
So far in the evening, Catherine had not had the chance for private conversation with Sir Bertie. This frustrated her, but she was very glad to see her father warming to the man. After dinner, she was asked by her father to perform on the piano. Though she was proficient, she was not notably talented and would much rather have joined the card game.
When the tea tray was wheeled in, she was finally able to stop, and she intentionally took a seat near Sir Bertie. “Did Lady Wellingham empty your pockets?”
“Sad to say, she made a good stab at it,” he said. “Your father is a very different man than your brother.”
“Yes, I am glad to say. I do not know how Robert came to be the man he is. Perhaps because of his associates. He runs in the Regent’s circle.” She wished she could hold Sir Bertie’s hand secretively as she had at Lady Clarice’s, but the party was small, and it would not go unnoticed. “I was sorry your sister could not join us tonight.”
“She leaves for Oxfordshire tomorrow and has a great many things to see to.”
Catherine asked the question which had been foremost in her mind. “Are you going with her?”
“No. I want to see an end to this Gentleman Smuggler business. I don’t wish to alarm you, but I think your encounter in the Fotheringills’ garden the other night has increased the stakes in his mind. He thinks you saw him, or if you did not, he believes you may discover his identity at any time.”
“I am glad, then, that you are here, Sir Bertie, but please do not feel you need to stay in London on my account.”
His brows lowered in a frown over his gray eyes. It occurred to her in a flash that if she did not know better, she would think him the veriest rogue. His face was implacable at the moment.
“I am determined to see the man caught and tried!” he said. “He meant to have you killed.”
His passion on the subject warmed her through. But she felt it was time to change the subject. “Did you take the children to see the Royal Menagerie?” she asked.
“Yes, please do let’s talk of something else,” he said. “The children enjoyed it very much. Gweet is very disappointed that she cannot have a lion cub. She thinks they are ‘ever so sweet.’”
Lady Wellingham rose, her hand on her middle, and Catherine guessed that she wished to leave. She rose as well.
“Now that my father is in residence, I hope you will not be a stranger,” she said to Sir Bertie. “Robert is at Newmarket.”
He gazed steadily at her lips, and she felt a surge of desire rise inside her, making her throat ache. If only they could be alone.
“Perhaps we can draw the fellow out if we go back to the museum tomorrow,” she suggested.
“I would not use you as bait.”
“As long as you are with me, I shall not worry about that. I just want this whole business to be over.” She smiled at him and put an arm through his as they walked across the room. “Plus, I confess I am anxious to see more of the antiquities.”
He grinned, and she saw the dimples that so transformed his face. “Shall I call for you at half past one?”
“That would be excellent,” she said.
She took hope when, at leaving, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her bare knuckles.
“I like your baronet very well,” her father said. “And whatever you say, I think he likes you very well, too.”
“The man is more than his rank,” she said.
“But, should you marry, you would leave your own rank as my daughter and take on his. Should you mind?”
“Should you?” she countered.
“I think the quality of the man is what is most important. Your Cumberwell is to be an earl. Yet it turns out he is faithless.”
“More faithless than you know,” she said. “He is behaving badly, hoping that Sybil will cry off. He says he now wants to resume our relationship.”
“The deuce! I would never entrust you to him a second time!”
“Do not worry, Father. I would not allow myself to be entrusted. I believe him to be a thorough rotter.”