Chapter Eight
Sinclair discovered that putting himself in the way of Cat was not so difficult after all. His housekeeper, a plump and motherly woman called Mrs. Finlayson informed him that she knew of the Countess of Strathmore through her cousin-in-law who was her butler.
“Hocking is a very good butler, if rather dour. There has been some trouble with the countess’s pet cat. A wee monster!”
“So you know that Lady Catriona MacKenzie is staying with her?”
“Her niece? Yes.” Mrs. Finlayson smiled. “A lovely young lady, Master.” Her dark eyes narrowed as if she were joining dots in her head. “Should I send your calling card? I am sure there could be no objection to you—”
“No, no calling card,” he said quickly. “I wondered if you knew whether she goes strolling in the park or shopping in Bond Street, or—or . . .”
Mrs. Finlayson smiled conspiratorially. “I will discover it for you,” she assured him. “Leave it with me, sir.”
Sinclair was happy to do that, and later that day, his housekeeper brought him some coffee and the news that Lady Catriona was good friends with the Snowden girls, Prudence and Harriet, and was planning to walk with them in Hyde Park the next morning. If the weather held.
“Which,” she said, shooting a glance at the window, “I am confident it will.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Finlayson,” Sinclair said with heartfelt sincerity.
She nodded and went to leave, only to change her mind again. She gave Sinclair an assessing look. “Wear your new green jacket, sir. It brings out the color in your eyes.”
Sinclair chuckled. He would indeed wear his new green jacket, and he would put aside all the doubts and fears that were plaguing him and play the gentleman. And perhaps, if he were very lucky, Catriona would be so taken with him that she would not care what his real name was.
He was up early, probably far too early, but he couldn’t sleep.
After he was dressed and had lingered over his breakfast for as long as he could, he set out for the park.
He spent some time lurking about in the trees, trying to see Cat or the two Snowden girls.
Sinclair couldn’t stay in the same place for too long because people would begin to notice and had started eyeing him suspiciously.
He didn’t spot anyone he knew, which was a relief, but he had just about given up by the time he finally saw the three girls strolling together on one of the many paths.
The sun was shining brightly, and the three women were dressed in their summer finery.
He watched as Cat smiled and responded to her friends’ conversation, her straw bonnet with lime-green ribbons shading her face.
Today, many people had converged on Hyde Park, intending to see and be seen, and he guessed that if he did not make a move soon, some dandy would step in and introduce himself.
Cat was already garnering a lot of interest.
Sinclair stepped out onto the path ahead of them and then gave a very good impression of being surprised to see them. Although he had prepared a story as to why he was here, he didn’t need to use it. They were so pleased to see him that they didn’t even ask.
“Mr. Sutherland!” Prudence cried.
And then her sister added, “Where is your phaeton?” at the same time, looking about as if expecting to see it.
The young ladies’ enthusiasm was gratifying, and he beamed at them. “It is such a fine day. Why shouldn’t I be out walking?”
“Gentlemen seem to prefer to ride,” Prudence answered him. She shot Catriona a sideways glance, as if she had already guessed the reason he was here, and then dipped her head with a secretive smile.
Catriona looked flushed, her blue eyes sparkling as she met his gaze. “You’re right, it is a verra fine day,” she declared.
They continued to gaze at each other until Prudence interrupted the moment. “Come on, Harriet, let’s go ahead. I think I see your friend Miss Rawlings and her sister.”
Harriet was happy enough to do as her sister suggested.
When they had moved away, Sinclair noticed Catriona looking at him again with a tentative smile.
She really was a beautiful woman. Her hair peeking out from her bonnet was dazzling in the sunlight, and her lemon-colored dress was high waisted, the skirt falling to her ankles.
The neckline showed only a modest amount of her bosom, and he tried not to imagine what she looked like underneath her fashionable clothing.
“I feel like I should thank you again for helping us with our carriage,” she said, taking the arm he offered as they resumed their stroll. “It was such a kind thing to do.”
Her fingers were warm, or perhaps he was just imagining he could feel her touch through her gloves and his jacket sleeve.
Sinclair had never felt like this before, and he was so caught up in the experience that for a moment he could not find any words to say.
But Catriona did not seem to mind. She glanced at him with another smile, almost as if she understood his discomposure.
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. He almost went on to say it was something he enjoyed, repairing vehicles and working with wood, but he stopped himself in time.
She would be puzzled why the gentleman he was pretending to be was speaking like a common laborer.
And yet he wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything.
“Do you live nearby?” Catriona went on, ignoring the carriage that crept by with its ogling occupants.
“Near enough,” he said vaguely. “How are you enjoying your stay in London?”
Catriona gave him a somber look. “Apart from worrying about my family and wondering how I can help, do you mean?”
Sinclair noted her downcast expression, and for a mad moment he felt like saying “Marry me then, so that I can help you!” The words were trembling on his lips when—thank goodness!—they were interrupted.
“Good morning!” a cheerful voice called out. When Sinclair looked up he saw his friend, Christopher, Lord Harcourt, astride his horse. Normally he would be glad to see him, but not today.
“Christopher!” he said quickly, knowing he must stave off the other man mentioning his name, or the game was up. Inside his gloves, his hands began to sweat.
“I wondered if I would see you this morning,” Christopher went on. He quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t expect you to be on foot.”
“My horse has cast a shoe,” Sinclair lied. He did not like to lie, and he was not very good at it, so he was relieved when Christopher appeared to accept his words at face value.
“Bad luck,” he said. His gaze went to Catriona and there was a spark of interest there, which made Sinclair want to hurry her off somewhere. Impossible, of course. He made the introductions.
“You are staying in London?” Christoper asked Cat politely.
“Yes, with my aunt, the Countess of Strathmore.”
“And you are acquainted with my friend here?” Christopher grinned at Sinclair, who was beginning to wonder if he might have a heart attack.
Catriona smiled at Sinclair before answering. “He was kind enough to help when we had an accident in our carriage.”
“Indeed!” Christopher was looking puzzled, as well he might. “You did not mention this to me the other night,” he went on to Sinclair.
“It was nothing,” Sinclair said and hoped his lack of embellishment might be taken as modesty.
Why didn’t his friend ride on? In a moment, he would say Sinclair’s name or give away his identity, and all would be lost. He wouldn’t be surprised if Catriona turned and walked away and he never saw her again.
But perhaps that was only what he deserved.
He would die a bachelor, sinking deeper into the sort of despair he had been wallowing in before he met her.
Somehow he kept his expression calm, not giving away the nervous state he was now in. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the smells of nature and the faint, sweet scent of the woman at his side.
“Are you still up for my mother’s ball? I told her you were coming.”
Sinclair’s eyes snapped open. Christopher was watching him curiously. “Of course!” he said automatically, when in truth he had forgotten all about it.
“I wonder . . .” Christopher looked from one to the other, and Sinclair could almost see his thoughts clicking over. “Would you like to attend, Lady Catriona? Do you have any other engagements?”
“No, I . . . My aunt has invited me to several, but so far I have said no.”
Christopher looked as if he wanted to ask why she had declined, but instead he smiled. “Then I hope I will have more luck! I’m certain you will enjoy yourself. Do you like dancing?”
He was a good-looking gentleman, and as Cat smiled back, a genuine smile this time, Sinclair wished him miles away.
“I do enjoy dancing. That is very kind of you, Lord Harcourt. I will inform my aunt.”
Christopher appeared to be pleased with himself as he bowed from the saddle and, with a brief grin in Sinclair’s direction that looked like triumph, went on his way.
Cat turned to Sinclair. “You will be there too?” she asked him anxiously. “At the ball, I mean?”
Sinclair wondered how on earth he was going to manage that even as he heard himself saying, “Yes, I will be there.”
She heaved a relieved sigh. “Good,” she said, before the color rose in her cheeks. “I mean, at least I will know someone else.”
God, she was adorable. He knew he was staring at her like a love-struck fool but he couldn’t help it.
Thankfully, her friends returned before he could say or do anything else stupid.
The Snowden girls were chattering about something or other, and Sinclair took the opportunity to say his farewells, and with a bow he turned away.
His head was full of questions. How on earth was he to manage the ball?
He couldn’t not go, not now he had said he would.
And he wanted to. He wanted to take Cat MacKenzie in his arms and dance every dance with her.
But what if she discovered who he really was?
She was bound to. He would be announced at the door, and then she would know.
Or could he sneak in a back door? Dress in disguise?
Sinclair groaned at his own ridiculousness, startling an elderly lady who was walking toward him with a cane. He apologized and moved quickly toward the gate.
It would probably serve him right if she did find out he was her archenemy.
He kicked a pebble rather viciously off the path.
If his grandfather had been the sort of man who listened to him, cared about him, wanted to help him .
. . But it was no use dreaming about the impossible.
Lord Armytage was what he was. A selfish, cruel man who wanted to live his life vicariously through Sinclair.
If Sinclair had Cat at his side, his own life could be different.
He was sure of it. Ridiculous though the thought was, he knew if she were there he could be the sort of man would could stand up to his grandfather and walk his own road rather than the one he had been forced to follow since his mother died.
Yes, it would be tricky to go to Christopher’s mother’s ball, and he was taking a huge risk, but it would be worth it.