Kathryn had gone to her room to freshen up, and once again sat in front of her mirror seeing a stranger. How she wished she could meet Lord Dalton without hiding behind her mask. It was impossible, of course, for many reasons. She knew he must despise her for what she had done to him. He would not be happy to see her. More importantly, she could not bear to see the pity on his face if he recognized her. She could avoid her previous life with her disguise. She could not bear it should he discover her identity and turn his back on her.
She came back to the present and watched young Lacey as she very slowly and meticulously carried an overfull cup of tea to her. “You are doing splendidly, sweetheart,” she whispered. Lacey was starved for affection in the most pitiable way. She was sadly neglected, though Kathryn found her eager and willing to learn everything she could.
She was almost upon her with the cup of tea when the door opened and the butler announced in a deep baritone, “Sir John, Lord Dalton has called.”
Kathryn’s eyes sought the earl’s face of their own volition, and she felt a nostalgic wish in her heart that it was she in Charity’s place.
The teacup, so lovingly carried, rolled awkwardly across the carpet and a horrified gasp was the only sound heard upon this stentorian announcement. Kathryn’s quiet assurance directed at the disconcerted Lacey was the only thing that kept the self-conscious child from fleeing the room in tears.
“Jarvis frightened me, Miss Montgomery,” whispered the dismayed little girl.
“Indeed he did, Lacey. It is of no matter, for we will clean it up momentarily.” Kathryn discreetly bent to mop up part of the spill with her napkin as Sir John shifted his eyes from the small disaster to the man now coming toward him. Kathryn sensed Lord Dalton’s awareness of the situation and appreciated that he did not draw even more attention to Lacey.
It made her remember his kindness. He was a more mature version of her Lord Dalton, but his characteristics appeared to be intact. She decided she could not be responsible for her wayward thoughts while he was with them.
* * *
“Dalton, my boy, welcome, welcome!” Sir John stepped forward in obvious exuberance, hand outstretched in greeting. “Told the ladies you and I had agreed upon no specific time of arrival, so we have begun tea as usual. Apologize profusely, my boy.”
Lord Dalton entered the salon that seemed full of staring eyes. He realized that the two young children and one young girl were quite obviously Sir John’s progeny. There was also a lady of indeterminate age sitting by the window, but based on her appearance she was not a guest.
His quick observations did not show in his expression. He greeted his host graciously in return. “Sir John, I am honored. Please feel no dismay over beginning your tea. More to the point, I must apologize to your lady for my late arrival. I had no wish to upset your schedule further, so as you see, I have presented myself in all my dirt. Do forgive me, please.”
He could not tell them about this morning’s pursuit. He had begun his search for the woman of last night at the inn and hoped to have her direction by noon. Though she said she would return tonight, he wished to be prepared. He wanted her name and where she lived. His old tendencies in the army died hard.
His efforts had been fruitless. Three hours later he had not uncovered one clue. The vacant expressions on the faces of the people he talked to were easily verified as truth and not an attempt to protect one of their own. Yes, he had seen her only by the light of the moon, but he was no young buck allowing romantic settings to invent what did not exist. Her beauty, though seen only in shadows, had been unmistakable even without a clear description of her features. But there had been the rub. He could give no one that description.
Such defeat only made him more determined. She would not disappear as Kathryn had. He would not allow it a second time.
She was a lady, of that he had no doubt. He might speculate on the reasons that brought her to the bridge in the middle of the night, but he was determined to find out why.
To own the truth, he chuckled at himself. Having no luck finding her among the locals, he realized that her status as a lady might not be known to them. He decided he would question Sir John’s household as to her name and whereabouts.
He also began second-guessing his leading from God. He was attracted to her and clearly felt he was to know her, an instinct telling him he might already know her, even while acknowledging that was impossible.
His mother had advised him to avail himself of Sir John’s offer for a few weeks. He needed to accept what was due to his family name by finding a wife and setting up his nursery. But those he met during his short time in London seemed no more than schoolgirls only just out of their own nurseries! His mother suggested he stop trying to shop for a wife and let love come naturally.
He would not rest on his laurels as he could in Town. But women flocked to him in London, though he hated it. He need only pick one, yet not one had touched a chord in his heart. So he had taken his mother’s advice to visit Sir John.
Here in Trotton, the delight he felt on the bridge when the fairy responded to his banter made him think that love might come naturally, after all. He would meet her tonight, then await an opportunity to know her in the daylight. He would try to overcome his fear that he would not be able to judge her character accurately.
His mind came back to the drawing room as Sir John greeted him in return. “Do not mention it, I say, do not mention it,” he repeated in a now-familiar habit. “But you do remind me of my manners. Please allow me to introduce my family.” He whispered an aside, “Not to worry that they’ll be under your feet the entire visit, my boy, but I told them they must do the pretty to welcome you.”
Dalton was led to a matronly woman, still possessing a good figure despite her cap and graying hair. She was introduced as Sir John’s wife, but he had already deduced her parentage of the three younger members of the party. “My dear, this is Lord Dalton, who has come to put a few of my best hunters to the test.”
Dalton bowed over the extended hand and smiled at the woman politely lowering her head in return. “Your servant, ma’am. I can only wonder at your generosity. My intention was to put up at the inn, but your husband would not hear of it. I vow to remain least in sight during my stay so as not to disrupt your normal routine.”
“My lord,” Lady Dinsmore said, chiding him, “you speak nonsense. Of course you will stay with us. I hope you will find it quite comfortable here. Being so far from London, we are always exceedingly happy to have company.”
She arose and began to walk toward the fireplace. She continued speaking, and it was obvious that she expected him to follow. “Indeed, we stand upon no ceremony here.”
It was then that Dalton became conscious of the young lady seated on the settee before the fire to which Lady Dinsmore had been leading him. His heart knew a moment’s hope that the woman he met last night sat before him, but immediately he deduced that the blond child bore little resemblance to his midnight wanderer.
“Before we overwhelm you with the entire family, I will introduce you to my daughter so that you may receive your tea and make yourself more comfortable. I fear you must be fainting from malnutrition.”
Standing six feet two inches in his stockings, his size belied her statement so shockingly that he began to laugh, feeling that he might enjoy a stay with such a family.
He was once again aware of the woman in the window embrasure. Her lowered head shot up at his laughter.
Lady Dinsmore led him to the young woman serving tea, who flushed prettily and slowly raised large eyes of deep green. She was exquisite, but she was merely a child, and he had no interest in schooling his wife!
“This is my oldest daughter, Charity, my lord. She has been eager to meet such a distinguished guest,” she said, and with a maternal pat on his arm, added, “and to hear all about London. I am afraid you