Dangerous Knight by Elizabeth Johns
Chapter One
“Wake up, you big oaf.” Jack heard Philip’s voice somewhere above him at the same time he felt the poke in the ribs. Jack proceeded to turn over and pull the pillow over his head, hoping Philip would go away and leave him to his dreams of a buxom red-headed opera singer.
“Do you think I would disturb your sleep if there was not a good reason?” Philip drawled as he drew the curtains open wide.
Jack pulled the pillow from his face. “No, my lord,” he taunted.
“Call me that again and you will not dream of actresses or opera dancers ever again.”
Jack frowned. “How did you know?”
Philip smirked.
“What is so important that you must disturb me at this ungodly hour?” In fact, Jack had no idea what time it actually was, but the sun was shining brightly through the window, offending his eyes.
“I will not deign to remark upon that errant observation. The commander would like to see us at once, so, regardless of our holiday, we go.”
Jack threw back his covers and Philip turned away. Jack chuckled. “So modest you are.”
“Modesty is a virtue,” Philip murmured. “I am merely saving myself from further nightmares.”
Jack quickly splashed his face with the water in the basin, shaved and dressed in his worn day uniform.
Once Jack was attired, they made their way through the luxuriously appointed hotel—or townhouse as their countrymen would call it—Wellington had purchased in Paris. It was a welcome change from the tents in the field. It was one perquisite of being on Wellington’s staff, that if there was a luxury to be had they were also welcome to enjoy it. They worked hard when it was necessary, but they also played very hard.
Philip gave a quick rap on the imposing wooden door leading to Wellington’s office.
“Enter.”
Both gentlemen entered the room and stood at attention before their commander.
“At ease, for goodness’ sake,” Wellington said, waving them into a chair. They were often informal with him, since they were in close quarters so often, and of all things, Wellington disliked being toadied to. Nonetheless, when he summoned you, you stood to attention.
Jack relaxed a bit.
Wellington set down the documents he was studying.
“Good morning. How would a trip to England take your fancy?”
“Are you truly asking for an opinion or are you telling us we are going to visit our homeland?” Jack asked.
Wellington chuckled. “The latter, of course. Prinny has asked for a few names of brave soldiers to knight followed by some grand victory celebration he is to hold in Hyde Park.”
Philip Everleigh cursed.
“Just so,” Wellington agreed. “At least you will be able to report to your father in person this time.”
The marquess expected personal reports on his son on a regular basis. It was the source of great amusement among Philip’s friends. Jack suppressed a snicker.
“What of you, Owens? Have you anyone to visit?”
“Other than a crotchety old grandmother with a dilapidated estate, sir? No, no one at all.”
Wellington raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Everyone was used to Jack’s glib and often sarcastic tongue, yet on this occasion Jack had not been exaggerating. His grandmother was a miserly old witch and had allowed the Owens estate to fall into ruin. He would be pleased if she took it with her when she died. Perhaps she would leave it to her cats. It was certainly something she would take pleasure in doing.
“When do we leave?” Everleigh asked.
“I have already sent word to Major Knight and Major Lloyd. You will meet at Le Havre and sail home together from there.”
“Felix will be Knight the Knight. How charming,” Jack muttered, earning him another look from his commander.
“Quite.”
Did no one else see the humor in that? Jack wondered.
“I know I may trust the four of you to represent my army well at the celebrations. You all look well in uniform and dance well. Owens, you will need to mind your tongue.”
“Of course, sir,” Jack responded quickly. It was the usual. Dress well, dance well, charm the ladies and act as though war was an extension of Polite Society instead of unfathomable brutality. In actuality, there was great irony in the fact that people adored a man in uniform, yet when he returned maimed from fighting for their country, they shunned him.
Wellington was handing Philip packets of documents. “You might as well see these delivered to the War Office yourselves.”
“Yes, sir,” Philip answered as Wellington piled their arms high with dispatches.
“And I expect you both to enjoy your time. You do deserve these commendations.”
“Thank you, sir,” Philip answered, clicking his heels together.
“Does it come with a prize reward?” Jack jested.
It earned him another look of exasperation from Wellington. “You do realize, Owens, that if you were ever taken prisoner, the enemy would cut out your tongue, England’s secrets be damned?”
“Yes, sir,” Jack answered standing sharply upright and clicking his heels.
Wellington shook his head. “I will miss it nevertheless. Be gone with you both.”
Once out of reach of Wellington’s ears, Jack sighed heavily.
“What? You do not wish for leave and England’s green shores?”
Jack shrugged. “There is little there for me to long for. You know as well as I that there are thousands of soldiers more deserving of knighthood than you and I.”
“Oh, but we are the pretty faces who will make them feel better about themselves.”
They walked through the great hall to the staircase leading to the bedchambers. “If you are knighted, what will you be called? Sir Lord Philip? Or will it be Lord Sir Philip?”
“Leave off, Owens,” Philip growled. He was the second son of a Marquess, but did not like to be known by his honorific. “Captain Everleigh as always,” he snapped.
“I know, I know.” Jack waved his hands in mockery. “You are a soldier, not a debutante.”
“How have you managed to stay alive this long?” Philip turned to ask when they reached their doors.
“An excellent question,” Jack replied. “One you ask at least once a day.”
“It will be good to see Felix again,” Philip remarked. “And Catalina.”
“What do you know of this other fellow?”
“Very little. He is very secretive. I cannot imagine he will be thrilled with the prospect of being on display in London,” Philip answered.
Jack snorted. “I have little doubt it will be quite the exhibition.”
“Indeed. I imagine my parents will be beside themselves. Expect a ball in our honor,” he warned.
“At least I will not have anyone fighting over me,” Jack offered, with a shudder of sympathy.
“It is a mixed blessing, to be sure. If only I did not have to pretend so when I am home. My mother would wrap me in cotton wool and never let me out of her sight.”
That sounded horrible to Jack, but he had never had such a relationship with his mother.
“We might as well enjoy a good luncheon before we leave,” Philip said as he opened his door.
“I suppose we have tempted fate with this luxury for too long,” Jack agreed as he opened the door to his own handsome chamber.
Philip slapped him on the shoulder. “Cheer up. You can stay with me at Everleigh House. I am certain my mother would adore having a personable bachelor under her roof.”
“Not a chance, old friend.”
“Very well, but you will not abandon me to my fate entirely. At least my mother boasts an excellent chef.”
“I can always be tempted with food,” he called as Philip went to pack his own trunks. Neither of them kept a batman because their commissions were frequently too covert to vouchsafe the extra person. Jack had never minded seeing for himself.
His trunks were packed long before it was time to leave, so he sat on the bed wondering what would await him back home. He could not be more shocked at the news he had been chosen to be knighted, but it really made no difference in the long run. He would still be Captain Owens and still be a career military man. His grandmother would be delighted if she knew, but he would never tell. It amused him greatly to think of keeping that a secret from her.
*
London at last.Kate had dreamed of this moment for years, but the old witch had determined to live forever to spite everyone who knew her.
Now, all Kate had to do was find the solicitor and have her funds released to her. Then she could go about her merry way, finally beginning her life at the ripe old age of twenty. After she finished at school, she had discovered she possessed a guardian, in the form of a Mrs. Owens, a cousin to her dear mama. Upon arrival at that lady’s estate, which was a monstrous, gothic-looking pile, Kate had found her to be an invalid and a very unkind person.
’Twas putting it mildly, she thought now. There had been scarcely any servants there to care for the estate or Mrs. Owens’ person and she had been confined to bed, with only a maid and a cook to be found. Not being more than gently bred, Kate had not been accustomed to a high standard of living, but even she realized the house had fallen into rack and ruin.
Three years she had stayed, and during that time had brought the house back to life. For three years she had managed the house and the estate—and kept a wide berth of the old lady, whose first words to Kate had been, “You look like a tart.”
Then she had harumphed and walked off.
Kate stepped down from the stage coach and for some minutes watched the world go by. The streets were crowded with carts and carriages, the pavements crowded with pedestrians and vendors and a cacophony of chaotic noise funneled into a dull roar about her. It was fantastic. She had thought her guardian would have brought her to London straight from school, where Kate could have practiced all she had learned on how to be a proper lady. She would have made a splendid marriage and be the mother of a couple of babies by now.
Now, now, she chastised herself. She at once felt like an old maid and could not imagine being beholden to anyone.
The estate she had lovingly brought back to life would now go to the witch’s grandson, who was, apparently, some officer in Wellington’s army. He had not returned after the lady’s death and Kate was tired of waiting. She had prepared a letter to send to Captain Owens, with details of how she had made Winterbourne prosperous again. All she wanted was her freedom, and her funds which had been put into to trust upon her parents’ death.
The miserly old lady had refused to release her or to give her any further details. Kate prayed her funds had not been wasted by the bedridden old harridan, and yet she could find no evidence that the lady had done so. She certainly had not spent the funds on extravagancies.
Kate had allowed herself the steward and housekeeper’s meager salaries until recently, when she had found replacements, and she had saved every penny. The villagers had been so grateful to have someone taking care of the property that they had not balked at her being female. All of this she had taken upon herself and done behind Mrs. Owens’ back, because it would have been a sin not to.
Now, however, it was time to take her life back; the life her parents would have wanted for her.
“Pardon me, miss, what should I do with your trunks?”
Kate started. She had not realized she had been daydreaming in the middle of the posting-inn yard.
“I will need a cart and driver,” she said, handing him a coin.
“Yes, miss.” He tipped his felt hat and hurried off.
Kate worried her lip, afraid the solicitor would not be available, although she had sent word to him that she was coming. While she had funds enough to live on for a while, they would not last indefinitely unless she took employment. She was not yet sure whether she should go to a hotel or boarding house, and hoped the solicitor could advise her. Therefore it was with great relief, some half an hour later, when she was shown into the offices of Wilson and Schuster, Esquires.
“Good morning, Miss… Harrington? I was expecting Mr. Harrington.”
“Yes, I understand. We are one and the same. I have not lied to you, but I deliberately did not make my sex known. I assumed you would not deal with me.”
“Well, I must say, I am certainly surprised, but if you are the one who convinced Mrs. Owens to properly manage her estate, then I can only commend you.” Mr. Wilson even looked like the commonplace solicitor who appeared over-fed and over-comfortable in a luxurious office, accustomed to toadying to the ton’s elite.
Kate inclined her head. She had expected resistance.
“Please, have a seat and tell me what I may do for you.” He extended a fat hand out to indicate a plump-cushioned armchair.
“In truth, sir, my full name is Catherine Harrington Rafferty.”
Kate waited for the man to piece together the fragments of her identity.
His gaze narrowed as his pince-nez slipped down his nose. “You are Mrs. Owens’ ward?”
“Indeed, but hopefully no more. Her death releases me, does it not? I should like to claim my inheritance and make my own decisions.”
“I see.” He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“Mrs. Owens’ grandson, who is her sole heir, has not yet returned from the Peninsula for the reading of the Will, despite several notices dispatched informing him of the lady’s death. I assume you are aware he serves with his Majesty’s Army?”
“I am aware of that, sir. Are you saying you are unable to release my funds until the Will has been read?”
“That is precisely what I am saying, for it is he who is now your guardian.”
Kate sat completely still a moment, hoping she had misheard. She repeated the words to herself, but unfortunately the meaning had not changed.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, unable to prevent the note of disbelief. “I am twenty years old. I have had no association with, nor knowledge of, this grandson.”
“I understand your frustration, miss,” he said in a condescending tone indicating he sympathized not at all, “but there were some stipulations which tie my hands.” He placed those fat hands across his ample girth and leaned back in his chair.
“What am I to do until he decides to grace us with his presence?” Kate knew she sounded like a viper, but she was thoroughly vexed.
The man removed his spectacles, then began to chew on one of the earpieces while his other hands fidgeted with a button. Kate watched him, all the while growing more agitated. Of its own volition, it seemed, her foot began to tap nervously.
“I expect it would be for the best if you were to stay at the townhouse until I receive instructions from Captain Owens.”
“There is a townhouse?” She had thought she knew all sources of income for the estate, but this was news to her.
“Aye. The lease came up a month ago and I have not sought new tenants since the Captain has not directed me upon the matter. Since Bonaparte is now imprisoned, I am hopeful the Captain will have time to respond to my letters. You may also return to Winterbourne, of course.”
“No, I would prefer to wait to hear from him.” To be sure, she had had very little news since the old lady had not taken delivery of any magazines or papers.
He nodded. “There is a skeleton staff there. You will need a maid and a chaperone.”
“I would appreciate your assistance in engaging a maid, sir, but I have been managing an estate, a house and an intemperate old woman for three years. I do not require a chaperone.”
“I understand, but if you hope for future acceptance in Society, you will need an older matron to keep you company, for propriety’s sake.”
Kate bristled at this, but she knew he spoke the truth from her etiquette lessons at school. She had lost hope of any entrée into Society soon after arriving at Winterbourne.
“I know of no one who can fulfill such a role, sir.” Her dreams of Mrs. Owens having been that person had disappeared up the nearest smoking chimney the moment she had arrived in Yorkshire.
“It would be hoped that your guardian would take it upon himself to arrange such a thing, but I will see what I can do. Perhaps the agency may know of a genteel lady looking for a position as a companion.”
“I shall appreciate your assistance in these things.”
The man sighed heavily. “Let us hope that Captain Owens will arrive soon so we may execute the Will. For now, I will send a letter with you to the caretakers of the house here in Town, and I would suggest you keep to yourself until you are properly chaperoned. I will, of course, send candidates to you for final approval. You will be living with them, after all.”
“Thank you,” she responded simply. There was little to be gained in a display of petulance.
“I will have my secretary hail a hackney for you.”
Kate was disappointed to find out she had an unexpected guardian, but at least she had a place to stay while she waited for the matter to be resolved. She hoped Mr. Wilson would not be terribly efficient at finding her a chaperone, because having been quite independent since leaving school, she had no need of one. She intended to make the most of her time in London taking in the sights and all it had to offer. Perhaps she would write to some of those friends from school she had kept in touch with and pay them a visit. Most of them were married, but she still exchanged letters with a few of them.
After her trunks were loaded into the hackney, she climbed in and stared at the grand houses as they passed through an area she suspected was Mayfair. It was yet another thing they had learned whilst in school. She had seen large houses before, but not so many and not so close together. Could it be that her guardian had a house in this part of Town? She supposed it was possible, but after the way Winterbourne had been neglected, she had not expected it. However, if it was leased and overseen by the solicitor, perhaps it was fit to live in.
The hack stopped before a white stone terraced house reaching several stories high. It was not precisely a mansion, but it was a very well-appointed house with a red door and boxes of matching red flowers hanging from the windowsills. The entire street was made up of such houses. Kate thought if the inside was as pleasing as the outside, it would do very well indeed. She held the letter of introduction from the solicitor in one hand as she stepped down from the equipage, steadying herself with the other.
She went to knock on the door and found she was nervous despite her letter of introduction. Would the servants be so used to tenants that it mattered not who lived there? Or would they treat her poorly because she was alone?
She had to start as she meant to go on; she knew that as well as anyone after her time at Winterbourne. There was nothing for it but to enjoy her sojourn while she could. If only her new guardian would stay away long enough.