Then Comes Seduction

“And an ale-drinking booth will not suffice, Cornell,” Jasper had said with a straight face.

All the ladies had laughed heartily at the witticism but had then assured Cornell that indeed it would not.

And the Reverend Bellow, Miss Daniels’s betrothed, would take it upon himself to prepare a blessing to be delivered at the opening of the fete.

“For it has been brought to my attention, my lord and lady,” he said in the gentle, serious ma

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Bellow,” Katherine said. “We had hoped you would do something like this, had we not, Jasper?”

“Indeed,” Jasper said, raising his eyebrows.

It was all done, then. They had established themselves with their neighbors to such a degree that he guessed social life at Cedarhurst would be active for years to come. They were to reestablish the summer fete, probably as an a

If he could have seen into the future just six weeks ago, Jasper thought, and seen this, he would have wept. Or got thoroughly foxed.

He actually felt remarkably cheerful.

Of course, there was still a three-legged race to be run, which might be quite entertaining if it was Katherine’s leg that was to be bound to his own.

And fruit tarts to judge-but country ladies were always the very best of cooks.

And country dances to be jigged. Hmm.

And a houseful of mostly very young persons to entertain. Plenty of giddiness and giggling to be expected there.

And a wager to be won.

And love to be fallen into. But he already liked her very well indeed. And he already desired her-a thought best avoided for the next three weeks or so.

He had never been very good at celibacy-not since he had lost his virginity at the age of eighteen, exactly one day after leaving Cedarhurst.

Though come to think of it, he had been celibate for almost a year when he had come back to Cedarhurst after Vauxhall.

Jasper spent a full morning with his steward. He looked strangely attractive when he set off for the home farm, clad in what looked like an old, somewhat ill-fitting brown coat and drab breeches that bagged slightly at the knees and top boots that had seen better days.

Katherine spent the early part of the morning in conference with Mrs. Siddon and the rest of the morning writing long-overdue letters to Margaret and Vanessa. It felt good to relax a little after the busyness of the past few days, though there was, of course, much to be done for the house party and the fete. She had no intention of leaving everything to the servants and the neighborhood committees. But today she was going to take off just for herself.

She changed into fresh clothes after a late luncheon taken alone since Jasper had not returned from the farm, and stepped outside. Her first plan was to go down into the parterre garden to sit. But she had not yet seen any other part of the park except from a distance, and the lake was not far away.

She walked past the stable block and down the sloping, tree-dotted lawn beyond it until she came to the lakeside. The lovely summer weather was still holding. There was scarcely a cloud in the sky or a ripple of a breeze. She opened her parasol, glad she had thought to bring it with her.

She went and sat on a little wooden jetty that jutted out into the water of the lake not far from a boathouse, her knees drawn up, one arm clasped about her legs, the other holding the parasol at an angle to shield her eyes from the sun. She was surrounded on three sides by water, which was glassy calm and a shade darker than the blue of the sky. Opposite her was a grassy bank, a wooded slope above it, and a little thatched stone cottage farther to the right, which she suspected was a folly, since it looked far too small to be a real habitation. Beside it, a waterfall fell like a ribbon over the steep bank. She could even hear it from where she sat-a peaceful, rural sound. A family of ducks swam across the water, a row of little ducklings in hot pursuit of their mother, leaving V-shaped trails behind them.

Behind her were the sloping lawn, the stables, the terraces and the house, and, behind it, in a great horseshoe arc, low, tree-covered hills.

There was something very special about Cedarhurst, something that spoke to her soul. She could sit just here forever, she believed, not reading or painting or doing anything useful, not talking, not even thinking. Just being. A part of it all. Solitude had always been something she had actively sought out whenever she could. There was never quite enough of it. Perhaps here she could find both a busy life to keep her mind off the negative aspects of her marriage and peace too.

And perhaps eventually there would be more solitude than she had ever wanted. She had not really looked beyond the next few weeks. What would happen after the house party was at an end and all the guests had returned home? Would he remain at Cedarhurst? Or would boredom soon drive him away, to return again for brief, unsatisfactory visits down the years? What could she offer that would keep him here with her, after all? And did she want to keep him with her?

But she would not think of such things today. And not here.

She lowered her parasol, lifted her face to the warmth of the sun, and closed her eyes.

“A perfect setting and a perfect pose,” a voice said from so close by that Katherine realized he must be standing on the bank behind her. “Even the lemon-colored muslin dress and pale blue sash and your wedding bo

His voice was soft, amused.

Katherine looked back over her shoulder. Jasper was propped indolently against a post that had been driven into the bank, his arms across his chest. He had changed into a dark green form-fitting coat with buff-colored pantaloons that molded his muscled thighs like a second skin, and shiny Hessian boots crossed at the ankles. His neckcloth was white and crisp and tied in a neat, unostentatious knot. His shirt points were high but not dandyish. There had never been anything of the dandy about Lord Montford.

“Oh, dear,” she said, “is it so obvious that I dashed down here to observe the surroundings and then dashed back to the house to dress accordingly-just as I did with the Adamses’ garden party? Ought I to have worn just any old rags instead? And sat beside the rubbish heap?”

His eyes regarded her lazily from beneath the brim of his tall hat.

“The trouble is,” he said, “that I am not sure it would make any difference. Katherine in rags beside a rubbish heap would doubtless look just as dazzling as Katherine dressed in blue and yellow by a blue lake with blue sky and sunshine overhead.”

She hugged her knees and smiled at him.

“I always fall head over ears in love with flatterers,” she said.

“Ah, do you?” he said. “But not with those who speak from the sincerity of a pure, adoring heart? How cruel of you.”

She half wished she had not grown to like him so much. One ought not to like a man who had flatteries and deceits at his fingertips-or at his tongue’s end. But then, he always spoke them with humor and perhaps no real intention of deceiving her. He seemed to enjoy the game for its own sake.

“I suppose,” he said, “I will not make nearly as romantic a figure sprawled on the bank as you make perched on the jetty, but I will try my best notwithstanding.”