Talk of the Ton (Free Fellows League 5)

“I, ah . . . I am certain I will recall it in a moment,” Kate said, feeling a bit flustered by all the attention. And confusion as to why the sudden attention.

Papa was confused, too, judging by his suspicious expression as he eyed them carefully. “Seems rather odd, the four of you calling on my daughter all at once and in a bad rain.”

“I am certain I mentioned I’d be calling the last time I had the pleasure of Mrs. Becket’s company, sir,” Connery said with that despicable smile of his.

“You did not have my company, my lord,” Kate reminded him.

That earned her an oily smile and a shrug from him.

“Nevertheless, no one has asked my daughter if she is disposed to receiving so many gentleman callers today,” Papa said sternly and looked pointedly at Kate.

Hardly—she was wearing a drab gown, her hair was mussed from her hard walk across Mayfair in a downpour, and her feet, while shod in her best walking boots, were killing her. Not to mention her general confusion as to why this spate of callers were at her door to begin with. She’d rather thought that a gentleman called as the result of some mutual understanding betwixt himself and the lady. She had no such understanding with any of these gentlemen. Or the three who’d called earlier this week.

Nevertheless, the four gentlemen looked at her expectantly as they jostled about a bit to stand before her. Kate self-consciously put a hand to her hair and said, “I beg your pardon, good sirs, but I am not, at present, quite prepared to receive callers. I’ve had a rather arduous morning and really must tend to my father’s, ah . . . business this afternoon.”

The four men looked at one another. Lord Moreland was the first to waddle forth; he paused before Kate and snatched up her bare hand, pressed his thick lips to it before looking up and pinning her with a very strange look. “I shall call again if I have your leave, madam,” he said low. “I think you will find me a most pleasant companion.”

“Oh! Ah . . . I’m, ah, certain that you are, my lord,” she said, having no earthly idea what to make of it.

Mr. Anglesey and Baron Hardwick both sought to take their leave next, and Kate had to suggest that perhaps Mr. Anglesey go first, as he was closest to her. Both men exited quickly, eyeing Papa nervously as they vowed to call again at a more convenient time.

Lord Connery, naturally, was the last to leave, and he sauntered toward her, his head lowered, his gaze prurient. “Lovely Mrs. Becket,” he purred over her hand. “How long shall you keep me waiting for the pleasure of your company?” He bent over her hand and pressed his lips to it. She felt the tip of his tongue flick against her skin and quickly jerked her hand back.

“I thought I had been perfectly clear on that, my lord,” she said, smiling sweetly. “You shouldn’t wait at all, as I do not intend to grace you with my company.”

He was completely unrattled by her, and simply smiled in a way that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “Very well then. I shall wait,” he said, and with a wink, nodded his good day to her father and continued his affected saunter out of the parlor.

Kate and her father walked to the front of the parlor room and looked out the window at the departing gentlemen as they walked quickly across the lawn, their umbrellas bobbing above them.

“Like rabbits, the lot of them,” Papa said, scowling. “Hopping eagerly about when the widow comes out of her weeds. There’s not an honorable one among them, I’d wager,” he opined and turned from the window.

“I can’t understand it, Papa. I’ve scarcely spoken to any of them, other than to greet them at church.”

Her father laughed. “You are not aware of your charm, Kate. But I think that just as well, for there is nothing more appalling than a woman convinced of her own appeal. In the future, mind you have a care about the bachelor gentlemen of our church.”

Kate laughingly agreed and glanced over her shoulder at her father. “You should rest, Papa.”

“I am rather tired,” he said, nodding. “Have William wake me before supper, will you?” he asked, and with a yawn, walked out of the parlor.

Kate thought to rest, too—the trek through the rain had been grueling. Perhaps she would lie down for a few moments in here, in the dark of the parlor. She turned round, went to the window again to draw the drapes closed, but she noticed someone standing at the gate. She stepped closer to the window and peered out.

It was Montgomery, leaning up against the wrought-iron fence, one leg casually crossed over the other, holding an umbrella over her his head as he absently twirled a timepiece around his finger, then out again, then in. He nodded in something of a silent greeting.

A smile, golden and warm, slipped across Kate’s lips. With a furtive glance over her shoulder to assure herself her father had gone, she looked out the window again and could not help the small laugh that escaped her; Montgomery had moved forward and was standing now, his legs braced apart, one hand shoved deep in his pocket, staring up at the parlor window.

There was something about that man that drew her like a magnet, and Kate pressed her hand against the glass pane. From where she stood, she could see that he grinned. She abruptly whirled about, walked to the door of the parlor, gathering her bonnet from the chair where she’d dropped it as she went into the entry hall. Picking up the umbrella William had put next to the door, she slipped out.

He was standing beneath the overhang of the small front porch. “Good afternoon, Kate,” he said, quietly smiling.

The tenor of his voice reverberated in her chest, almost stealing her breath. “My lord,” she said, returning his smile. “What an unusual way you have of calling.”

“I would have presented myself, but it seemed rather crowded within.” He closed his umbrella. “I thought it best to wait under the old oak,” he said, nodding to a tree at the corner of the guest house, which could not be seen by the departing gentlemen, les

t they turned fully around.

Kate laughed. “And did you not think, sir, when you saw the other gentlemen depart promptly, that perhaps it best if you joined them?”

“What? And leave you quite alone?” he asked playfully, tapping the tip of his umbrella against hers. “It was quite clear to me that you were sending them forth so that you might honor me with the particular pleasure of your company.”