Page 42 of Kismet

He decided he would talk to her another time, but that did not prevent him from noting that she was leaving her house with only her maid. He had watched her leave the house before and knew there was normally a footman with her when she left.

He decided to follow her for a while, just to make sure that she was safe. You never knew about things in the city. She was a pretty woman with only her maid. There was no telling what could happen. He hadn’t followed her very far before he noticed someone else was following her. Timmy knew instinctively that whatever the man wanted was not good. Freezing in place, he felt his stomach clench. The man’s smile was evil as he leered at Miss Catherine.

Timmy could not help but worry as he watched the man creep after Miss Catherine and her maid. It was entirely possible that he was not following her and was simply going the same way, though it did not take long before Timmy knew without a doubt that the man was following Miss Catherine. He was only nine years old and not a very big nine. What could he possibly do about a grown man?

That’s when he remembered the gentleman from across the square. He could not remember his name, but he knew where he lived. He took off like a shot, no longer caring about blending into the shadows. In his time on the streets, he had come to trust his instincts, and they were screaming at him. He had to get that man, and he had to do it fast.

Catherine leaned her head back against the tree trunk behind her. She had a decision to make. What was she to do about Theodore’s actions? She had always told herself that if she found a love like Elizabeth had found in William that she would fight for it. Look at all that her sister had overcome. Despite Darcy's outwardly aloof and unsociable behavior, she saw a shy and vulnerable side to him. She fought to save his life and had even been pushed off a cliff for him. Despite their father's disapproval, she had chosen to follow her heart.

Catherine could do no less for her own. Love was like a delicate butterfly, its beauty and essence easily damaged if not shielded from harm and she was resolute in her decision not to let it pass. Love was too precious to let slip away, and she was ready to use force if needed to make Theodore see what they had. It was, after all, for his own good. She knew he would be miserable otherwise.

Theodore’s stupidity would not stop her from loving him, though it did hurt. Her heart ached at the thought that Theodore could put away his love—their love. She would push past that and come up with a plan.

“Miss Catherine, your eyes are so red. Why don’t I go get a handkerchief wet in the stream? A cold compress might help,” Lambert offered. They had gone to a solitary section where Catherine might pine in peace. The peacefulness of the area was complemented by the presence of trees, shrubs, and a softly murmuring stream.

Reaching up, Catherine felt her wet cheeks. How long had she been crying? She had hoped a walk would help clear her head, but clearly her thoughts and emotions were still muddled. Agreeing with the idea, Catherine mustered a smile that lacked true enthusiasm. “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Lambert. I really must get myself together if we are going to walk back home.”

“We will have you put to rights in a trice.” Lambert moved off between the shrubs to reach the stream. Catherine watched her go, grateful to have such a loyal friend in the woman. When she had met Lambert for the first time, they had just left Longbourn behind and everything had been so different from what she knew. Of course it was better, but that did not make it any less different and confusing. Lambert had been nothing but kind and supportive, helping her to step into a different level of society with grace.

Reaching out, she took up her reticule and begun rummaging in it for her own handkerchief. Without warning, a voice devoid of warmth pierced the silence, sending a chill down her spine.

“I told you that you would regret your choice to disregard me.”

Catherine felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as she locked eyes with Viscount Deerhurst's sneering face. She quickly realized that he was in the position of power and froze in place. She was hemmed in with the tree at her back, and Deerhurst was hovering over her menacingly. There were only a few options available to her for dealing with him. She understood that she had to keep a clear head, and that her best option was to provoke him into making a crucial error. “Lord Deerhurst, I am beginning to question your level of comprehension. When a lady turns you down for a dance, it is usually best not to seek her out at other venues.”

Deerhurst extended his hand and firmly grasped one of the low branches of the tree above her. With a forceful shake, a flurry of petals descended upon her. “Coming to the park by yourself was not a good idea. A woman's reputation is like glass, fragile and easily shattered. Perhaps growing up in the countryside, you may not be familiar with the behaviors expected of women here.” As he leaned closer, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he gently brushed a petal off her shoulder.

Despite her efforts to remain composed, Catherine's body reacted involuntarily with a shudder as his hand brushed against her shoulder. “Are you intoxicated? You cannot possibly feel that trying to accost me in public is a good idea.”

“I am Viscount Deerhurst. I do not have bad ideas.”

Catherine could not help but roll her eyes at his comment. Did he really think he was incapable of having bad ideas? Of course, she had her own bad ideas. Why had she only come with a single maid? She knew that Lambert was somewhere out of sight and that she was smart enough to stay hidden, but if Catherine tried looking to spot her, things would only go badly for them both. “My mistake. I suppose bad ideas are only the domain of mere mortals, not viscounts.”

Deerhurst caught her eye roll and, with a glower, continued with his speech. “Lady Matlock has bemoaned your involvement with her son to all that could hear. I, always willing to lend a hand, have offered to help her rid her son of his distraction. Should it be revealed that you are compromised by another man, he would quickly abandon any thoughts of pursuing your ill-advised courtship.” Taking another step forward, he leered down at her.

“Don't make the mistake of underestimating Lord Matlock,” Catherine rebuked Lord Deerhurst with a glare of her own. “Or should I say Colonel Fitzwilliam, as he was referred to by those who served alongside him. He is not the sort of man you are familiar dealing with.” Catherine’s hand had never come out of her reticule, which was of benefit because she had several important things in the bag. Among her belongings, she carried a few pounds, a handkerchief, a packet with a needle and thread, and, most notably, the bronze penknife given to her by Theodore.

Ignoring Catherine’s statement altogether, Deerhurst continued to close in on Catherine. “I will get five thousand pounds from Lady Matlock for helping to free her son. Then, between your dowry and whatever money I can bleed off that prig Darcy, it will set me for years. I will have enough funds to settle my debts and restore our family estate.” With a swift movement, Deerhurst reached out and undid the ribbon on Catherine's bonnet, pushing it back to expose her hair. “Everything is falling into place like a beautifully wrapped gift, and I love opening my presents.”

Catherine remained still while her fingers moved urgently around her bag. “I am neither a gift nor yours. I believe you should leave before you find yourself in a position you regret.” Sweat trickled down her brow as Catherine bided her time. She would only have one chance if she was to attempt what she had in mind.

Hands worked their way into her hair and started to knock her pins free.

“There is nothing about to happen that I will regret.” Dropping to a knee, he crouched before her.

Gratefully, Catherine recognized that his attention was too much on her cleavage to notice anything else. Having worked the sheath free, Catherine gripped the penknife in her hand like a lifeline as she began to pull her hand free of her reticule. “Life can surprise you.”

When Deerhurst’s large hand moved to try to rip the front of her gown, Catherine brought her penknife around and plunged it into his thigh. A high-pitched screech burst from his mouth as Catherine shoved him back and jumped to her feet. Taking a few steps away from his shrieking form, Catherine first strived to get out of his reach. She had hoped that if she aimed for his leg, he would not be able to pursue her, and it looked like she might be successful in her plan.

“Mistress, we must run.” Lambert appeared out of nowhere and began tugging on Catherine’s arm.

Wordlessly, Catherine nodded her head, eager to get away from the despicable person who had threatened her so. Gripping Lambert's arm in her own for support, she rushed with her out of the group of trees. They had not taken a dozen steps before Catherine found herself bouncing off the solid form of a person she hadn’t seen while looking back over her shoulder. A strong hand gripped her arm to prevent her from falling.

“Miss Catherine, are you well? We heard a scream.” Mr. Burgess's voice brought Catherine around to the fact that she had run into friends. Glancing around, she spotted Selene not far behind him.

“Deerhurst,” was all Catherine managed, finding she could not begin to explain what he had been attempting. She pointed behind her to where she could see his form, still trying to get up.

“Burgess! What are you doing? Unhand her!” Theodore came rushing up with young Timmy trailing behind him. Both looked rather concerned.

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