these past weeks, Lord Blakemore has joined with Lord Greystone and Mr. Wilberforce to propose laws restricting the use of small children as chimney sweeps.”
“That is most commendable, my lord.” How could Catherine return the conversation to Lord Winston without exposing how deeply she was interested in him or causing them to think that interest was romantic? “Surely not every aristocrat is so benevolent.” She had seen sufficient poverty in London to know the wealthy could and should do more to help them.
“Ah, but we were speaking of Winston.” The earl chuckled in his endearing way, almost as if he could read her thoughts. “You may be interested to know, Miss Hart, that earlier this month he accompanied Greystone to a disreputable tavern on the Thames and helped to rescue two kidnapped climbing boys. Just think of it. Two peers taking on such a dangerous adventure to save chimney sweeps, the lowest of the low.”
“Indeed?” Catherine’s heart warmed briefly before she dismissed such a favorable emotion. Perhaps the baron could be kind to poor children and elderly ladies, but that did not excuse his evil lies about her father.
“Indeed,” Lady Blakemore said. “Quite commendable.”
“Tell me, my dear.” The earl addressed his wife. “What did you hear from Swarthmore about the Cochrane affair?”
Catherine watched with interest as the countess detailed Lord Swarthmore’s opinions regarding the complicated scheme Lord Cochrane and his cohorts had perpetrated against the Stock Exchange. Like Papa, not only did Lord Blakemore listen attentively to his wife, but he respected her opinions, which she sprinkled liberally throughout the discourse.
And yet Lord Winston had refused to discuss the affair with Catherine. Apparently, he found her too naive to be informed about important matters of the day, as though she had no intellect or fortitude. That suited her plans quite well, for if her enemy underestimated her, so much the better.
“By the by, my dear.” Lady Blakemore addressed her husband, but something in her tone alerted Catherine and interrupted her musings. “At what hour is Winston arriving tomorrow? I should like to be at home and have tea with him. You do not mind, do you, Miss Hart?”
Catherine’s thoughts raced. She would have to enlist Mr. Radcliff’s help to arrange an encounter with the baron during his visit. For now, she schooled her face to suggest polite indifference. “My lady, you do not require my approval to entertain whom you will.”
Lady Blakemore traded another of those conspiratorial glances with her husband. “But my dear, he does require my permission to have tea with you.” She laughed softly. “I do hope you are not disappointed that I granted it.”
How hard it was for Catherine not to smile, not to crow with victory. The path to bringing Lord Winston down was proving to be all too easy.
Chapter Three
“Come in, Edgar.” Winston beckoned his cousin Radcliff into the sunny breakfast room of his Grosvenor Square town house. “Have you eaten? My cook has laid out far too much food for one person.” He selected eggs, rolls and sausages from the oak sideboard and moved toward the head of the table. Last night at Lord Drayton’s ball, he had been too occupied with Miss Hart to have much appetite. Now his stomach rumbled in complaint over such neglect.
“Good morning, Winston.” Radcliff’s tone, always cheerful, sounded particularly good-humored this morning. “Did you enjoy last evening?” He took a plate and studied the selection of food.
“A very grand affair.” Winston hesitated to mention Miss Hart, lest nothing come of his interest in her. As charming as the young lady had seemed last night, this morning his father’s admonitions came to mind, warning him against haste in forming any alliance. Still, he looked forward to this afternoon when he would visit Blakemore and have tea with his wife and her companion. He considered asking Lady Blakemore’s permission to take the young lady for a drive, but decided such a move would have to wait until he learned of her family connections. And he really must do that today.
“Meet anyone interesting?” Edgar took the chair adjacent to Winston’s and laid a linen serviette across his lap. He leaned toward Winston and arched his eyebrows to punctuate his question, as if he knew the answer.
Winston almost choked on his buttered roll. Edgar had always seemed able to read his mind. To deflect the question, he eyed his cousin’s plate, which held a single sausage and one roll. “Is that all you want?” As sanguine as he felt this morning, he would gladly feed the world. After months of fruitless searching for a wife, perhaps he was close to achieving his goal.
Edgar accepted a cup of coffee from the footman. “I never know whether Blakemore will invite me to join him for breakfast or not.” He sipped his beverage. “It’s always best to arrive for work a little hungry so as not to offend him. Unfortunately, I cannot depend upon his feeding me, so I must eat something.” He emitted a rueful chuckle.
“Indeed?” Winston grimaced at the thought. His cousin was as thin as a banister spindle and could ill afford to miss a meal. As Blakemore’s secretary, surely he had the liberty to nourish himself in the kitchen in the course of a day’s work. “Well, you must eat your fill here as often as you like before going to work.”
“I thank you for your generosity. But let us not dwell upon my eating habits. Must I repeat my question, cousin?” Edgar gave him a knowing smirk. “Did you meet anyone interesting last evening? A young lady, perhaps?”
Winston bit into a sausage to avoid answering, savoring the blend of spices with which his chef had seasoned it. How annoying that Edgar was so persistent. But then, this was his dear cousin, who had known him all his life. Surely he could confide in him.
“Very well, yes, I did meet a young lady.” He waved to the footman to refill his coffee cup, then made a great ceremony of adding sugar and cream before taking a sip. Then adding more sugar.
Edgar laughed. “You know I will not leave until you tell me everything.”
Winston’s heart lightened at this prompting. Edgar cared deeply for him, even though his birth had displaced his cousin as Father’s heir. Any other gentleman might resent it, but Edgar had never appeared to covet the title or the wealth, even though he had been relegated to the edges of Society and forced to earn his living, a shame for any aristocrat.
“Her name is Miss Hart, and she is Lady Blakemore’s companion.” There. He confessed it. Now he sat back and waited for the honest opinion that would doubtless be forthcoming.
Edgar gaped at him for a full ten seconds. “That chit? Why, my dear, naive cousin, I never would have imagined that quiet little mouse would dare to set her cap for a peer of the realm.” He snorted out his disgust. “Why, she has no family to speak of. No name, no dowry. Why would you permit some scheming girl like that to engage your heart?” He rose from his chair and paced the length of the table and back. “Well, then, go ahead. Fall in love with her. But do not speak of marriage. Set her up in her own house and...you know.”
For several moments, Winston could only watch his cousin in stunned silence. Then heat blasted up his neck and into his face. He stood and slammed his serviette down on the table. “You will not speak of her in that manner. I am convinced she is a lady. Do you even know her?” Hands fisted, he took a step toward his cousin.
Edgar blinked but did not move. Then his breath seemed to go out of him. “Forgive me, cousin.” He set a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “She and I are employed
