style="font-size:15px;"> “The entire West Run, but first I want to see the mausoleum.”
“Kate,” Valentine warned, but his tone was resigned. “All right, as I’d rather you didn’t go on your own. Do you mind, Simon?”
Kate looked at him, her chin raised defiantly.
“Not a bit,” he said affably, and then raised one eyebrow at her as if to say happy now, brat?
Clearly the gloves were off, for both of them. She didn’t like him, and he— Well, she didn’t know what he thought of her. Nothing good, surely, not after her explosion last night on the balcony.
She really should attempt to be a better hostess. If only any of her brothers ever brought home somebody normal.
Valentine dismounted, tossing the reins to one of the grooms. “You two go on ahead,” he said as he walked toward the door. “I’ll hunt up Dearborn and get the key.”
Kate felt her stomach do a small flip. She did not want to be alone with the marquis. “No, we’ll wait for—”
“Excellent idea,” Simon interrupted. “Is it far? Hector here is on the frisk. I’d like to give him a short run rather than have to fight him.”
“Kate, take the long way,” Valentine called back over his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”
Kate was considering hot coals heaped on Val’s head, and didn’t immediately respond.
“You’re thinking up a way to lose me in the woods?” Simon asked, drawing his mount up alongside her Daisy, who wasn’t shy about indicating her interest in the stallion.
“No,” she answered honestly. “I was mulling punishments for Val. But you were next on the list. What are your feelings as to thumbscrews?”
“I’m not particularly enamored, thank you, anyway. You know, I’d wondered if there might be a dungeon somewhere in this great pile of stones.”
Kate acknowledged the jab with a small smile as she urged Daisy ahead at a walk. “I suppose I should apologize for my behavior last night.”
Simon returned her smile, still easily controlling the eager stallion. He didn’t pull at the horse’s mouth by trying to rein it in, or dominate the animal. It was his calm manner that had Hector obeying him. She could admire that sort of talent and understanding. And he really was quite handsome. He couldn’t help that his hair was blond.
“The eavesdropping, or the designs on my liver?”
“Excuse me?” She’d really have to begin concentrating on what he was saying rather than how he looked. After all, he was only a man. She refused to be impressed.
“I was inquiring as to the possible subjects covered in your apology.”
Now who wasn’t listening? “I didn’t apologize. I said I supposed I should.”
“Ah, yes, you’re right. I see the distinction. Would you mind if I apologized?”
She shook her head. “No, that would take too long, as I consider the list to be quite lengthy. I’ll just graciously accept.” They were clear of the circle now, and about to pass through the gates held open by Dickie and Liam. “To the top of the hill, my lord, and then bear to your right and follow the trail. It eventually leads us back around to the other side of the stone fence. You’ll be able to see the mausoleum tucked into the trees at the crest of the far hill. Show off if you feel the need, as I’m certain your mount can best mine, but please don’t frighten the sheep.”
And with that warning, she was off, urging Daisy into a full gallop.
She needed this. The morning sun on her face, the breeze blowing away the cobwebs in her head and easing the heaviness in her heart. Kate’s life had been one long fairy tale here at Redgrave Manor, and even Trixie’s explanation of her parents’ tragic end had been something out of a storybook, made romantic in her mind. A misunderstanding, an impetuous challenge. A warning shot gone mortally astray. A devastated mother forced to leave her beloved children to escape arrest, but vowing to return for them, only to perish in the French Terror. Nearly a Shakespearian tragedy.
Kate could have been content with that fairy tale for all of her life, knowing she was deceiving herself, still embracing the deception. Now her world had turned upside down, and she’d been forced to grow up and face the truth. Oh, how that hurt. It hurt so much.
And it seemed every day brought a new revelation, a fresh ugliness to light. Kate couldn’t go back to her carefully constructed cocoon of wishful dreams, but she couldn’t look away from the nightmare. That the world could end up knowing every Redgrave secret was to be averted at all costs. That Simon Ravenbill already knew those secrets was humiliating past all bearing.
But there was no getting rid of him, not if Gideon approved of his presence. She’d have to face him every day until the journals were found. If she hadn’t had good reason to search for them before, she certainly had one now. Every time she looked at the marquis she would know he knew. And probably judged. Who wouldn’t be suspicious, at the least, and disdainful at the most, of any offspring of two such immoral, deadly monsters who were their parents?
She heard the sound of hoofbeats behind her and moved to the side of the riding trail.
“I’ll be mindful of the sheep!” Simon called out cheerfully as he and his mount blew by her as if Daisy were moving at a sedate trot.
“Show-off, indeed,” Kate muttered, watching him go, the stallion’s hooves kicking up great clouds of brown dust from the dirt trail, the breeze blowing it all straight back at her. She now had two choices: ride the rest of the way eating dust in Simon’s wake, or reining in the mare and only following once he was off the trail and onto the grass. She chose the latter alternative. “Daisy,” she said, brushing dust off the shoulders of her dark blue riding habit, “I do believe this means war. And as he threw down the gauntlet, it’s left to me to choose the weapons—or something like that.”
Wasn’t it strange? She felt much more in charity with Simon when he treated her as her brothers did...as his equal. But this was still war, and he had to be taught a lesson!
By the time she’d reached the mausoleum, Kate had made her choice. Valentine wanted her to practice? She’d practice. But she’d do it her way, as herself and not as some simpering debutante, and Simon would either tumble madly in love with her or go running back to London in fear for his sanity. After all, she was a Redgrave, so it could go either way. And, either way, she’d have his solemn vow to never speak a word of what he knew before she, at least figuratively, kicked him out the door.
Yes, it was the perfect plan. Hadn’t Trixie told her women always win any battle between the sexes, because they are born with more interesting weapons. Kate at last believed she truly understood what her grandmother had meant.
Simon, who had already dismounted and had been sitting on an iron bench placed outside the mausoleum, quickly rose and went to assist Kate from the saddle. But she was far ahead of him, intent on being Kate: she merely tossed him the reins, then lifted her leg to disengage from the pommel, kicked her other leg free of the stirrup and lightly leaped to the ground.
“Very neatly done,” Simon complimented her coolly. “And here I had been so hoping to help you dismount. A
