he had met Kathryn—Lady Kathryn—and was very soon caught. She was young and in her first Season, but she was so different from the usual debutantes that flooded London each spring.
She was beautiful, so beautiful she took his breath away. Would he ever forget those eyes? He feared not. They were sapphire-blue. And he could see into her very soul through them. Her raven hair was thick and luxurious and her skin creamy, with a little bronze from the sun. But even had she not been so beautiful, he believed he still would have sought her out. She was selfless and intelligent. She smelled wonderful. They never tired of talking; they were so much in tune with each other’s thoughts. And her heart belonged to God. They talked of Scripture for hours.
Many of his happiest memories were the ones when they had waltzed. It was the only time they were allowed to touch, and her touch was so calm and gentle. And in a dance, it was her gracefulness that swept him away. She floated in his arms, and he had begun to fall in love with her in only two short months.
And he had thought, at the time, that she felt the same. He need only wait for the proper time after speaking to her father. He would give up thoughts of the army and take up a profession that she would be proud of—one that would not keep them apart.
But she left him. He looked for her at every ball. He scanned the boxes for her at the opera. He would have set up camp on her doorstep, only the knocker had been removed and no one answered. He finally wrote to her father at Montgomery Hall, but received no response. He was only too happy then to buy his commission, and to this day, he carried a deep scar that kept him from trusting another woman completely.
Dalton repositioned his pillow, reminding himself yet again that the past was the past, and he must now marry and beget an heir.
He had been trained to judge the character of others quickly in his position as a major in Wellington’s army. But in the Little Season he had only just left behind, he still doubted his ability to judge a woman. She had left him that curse.
And he knew not how he was to marry if he compared every woman to Kathryn. There had been no doubt in his mind that her feelings for him were as strong. He believed she, too, was falling in love. He had never misjudged someone so completely. It had not been so, and now he thought he could not marry for love. His heart was battered. He would wed based on credentials alone and pray that God would provide the companionship necessary to make the marriage work. He felt sure there was an eligible candidate, but he dreaded the search.
Heavenly Father, I know You will bring the woman You have for me in Your perfect timing. Please give me the patience to wait for her and for eyes centered on You to see her.
Yet before falling asleep, his last thoughts were of a waif in the moonlight, a winsome fairy who had taken his fancy.
* * *
“He will be here any moment. I demand you send Lacey elsewhere and help me complete my toilette!”
It was the next morning, and Kathryn heard Charity stomp her foot like a schoolgirl even though she could not actually see it. The talk had been of nothing but Lord Dalton for the past fortnight. She almost became sick of hearing his name until meeting him again last night on the bridge.
She had gone for one of her walks. She discovered after a few weeks in Trotton that could she shed her disguise even for an hour, she could bear the unwieldy trappings imposed on her by her own past actions. Once Charity was through with her for the evening, and usually only once a week, she would wait until the moon was high in the sky and take a solitary walk as herself.
She wore a voluminous cloak to cover her full appearance, but she had never really needed it until last night. She carried a small pistol her father had commissioned just for her. But no crime had come to the little town of Trotton for years, so she had not needed that, either. And she never saw another living soul at that time of night. Tales of goblins and trolls died hard in the Weald, and the Rother River Bridge was the source of many of those tales.
She was brought back to the present with another angry cry from Charity. “I believe you are not listening to me!”
Kathryn always tried to remain gentle and soft-spoken with her charge, but at times it was nearly impossible. “Charity, do try for a little decorum. No gentleman of fashion would arrive before noon.” That was the truth, but she did not understand Lord Dalton’s delay, as he was housed so close to the manor.
“You look quite nice in your apricot muslin, so I do not see how I may add anything to your appearance.”
“Nice...nice...?” The young beauty before Kathryn balled her fists in a spoiled rage. “I think I look quite stunning in this gown!”
Kathryn heaved a sigh of resignation. “Charity, you must stop puffing yourself up. It does you no good and will surely put Lord Dalton off.”
With her eyes closed in frustration, Kathryn wished she could get a message to Lord Dalton to flee for his life. She would not wish a fortnight of Charity upon him for any reason!
No, she must stop that line of thinking. She no longer knew him and had no right to determine what or whom he might like...despite their past.
She had desired nothing more than the darkness last night, a few moments of freedom. But today, despise it as she might, she was never more happy for the anonymity her masquerade brought her.
Her past mistake had haunted her for nine years, and she was no longer free to be Lady Kathryn. She was unwanted in London’s elite world, and she must support herself now. She had learned years ago that it was only possible if Lady Kathryn disappeared and Miss Kate Montgomery took her place—a wig, a pair of spectacles and unwieldy shoes her only protection. She accepted her responsibility and the following consequences of her own mistake. She would not cry and complain of injustice; she would not grow into a bitter, angry woman. She accepted her punishment. She had made her bed, now she must lie in it.
She was presently in the nursery visiting with the younger members of the household. Charity’s little sister chimed in, bringing Kathryn back to the present. “I am not vain, am I Miss Montgomery?” the child asked. She had adored Kathryn since the moment of her arrival, and it had become a mutual admiration very quickly.
Conversely, Charity had disdained Kathryn since the day she arrived. She flatly stated she had no need of a companion to teach her about the ton, and discarded Kathryn as she did all things for which she had no need.
Upon his return from London one month ago, Sir John Dinsmore, Charity’s father, declared he had invited no less a personage than Lord Dalton to the manor. “Zounds, my dear, zounds,” he had informed his wife. “The reputation of our stables has reached even to London! Even to London, upon my soul.”
There had been little peace since.
She knew Sir John thought himself quite the strategist. Only four months ago, Lady Dinsmore had hired Kathryn as a companion to Charity. Her parents had finally accepted that as beautiful as their daughter might be, she had been spoiled for so long that they feared the girl’s manners might hinder the possibility of an advantageous marriage. Even Lady Dinsmore could not be more excited. “Only think of it, Kate,” said the lady when they were alone. “An unmarried earl under our roof for a fortnight. What a singular opportunity for our Charity!”
She spoke in a sterner voice to her daughter. “I am sure Miss Montgomery has mentioned that you must not seem too eager when the earl arrives. There is no doubt he will notice you straightaway, but he will wish to know you better should you behave the least bit...evasive.”
