Page 11 of Whiskers and Wiles

“Why shouldn’t I?” Waldorf asked, returning to the exhilarating feeling of combat that he’d enjoyed with her earlier. “The moniker suits you well, since you behave much like your feline companions most of the time.”

Waldorf watched Kat’s jaw and neck tighten, like she was clenching her teeth. She sent him the briefest sideways glance, then snapped, “I shall take that as a high compliment.”

Waldorf was in the midst of formulating some response that would reflect the way cats frequently contorted themselves into obscene positions to lick their own backsides when he realized Kat was approaching a particular pair of ladies, Lady Thistlewhite and her daughter, by the side of the Serpentine.

Immediately, Waldorf was on the alert for a litany of other reasons. Lord Thistlewhite of Northumbria was one of the most outspoken opponents of the Mercian Plan among the ministers who would partake in the Joint Parliament session. He was a man who could influence quite a few others in Joint Parliament. But Waldorf had only the briefest of acquaintance with the man. If he could somehow ingratiate himself to Lady Thistlewhite, perhaps he could wheedle an invitation to supper out of the woman, and from there, he might make an effort to change Lord Thistlewhite’s mind.

Kat stopped just short of the Serpentine path and whipped to face Waldorf, jostling the ridiculous basket in which she carried her loathsome cat as she did.

“I do not require your presence any longer, sir,” she told Waldorf, peeking at Lady Thistlewhite and her daughter as they changed the direction of their amble to approach. “Go away.”

“I shall not,” Waldorf declared with a challenging smile.

“What possible reason could you have to dog me like this?” Kat demanded, partially forlorn.

Anything that would upset Kat and drag her down from her high horse was a good use of his time, as far as Waldorf was concerned. “Lady Beata Thistlewhite is unwed, is she not?” he said. “So am I. And you know my father is desperate to have all of his sons and nephews married.”

Kat turned a curious shade of puce and practically trembled with rage. Waldorf considered it a victory that he had found his way under her skin so easily.

Neither of them had time to do anything about it, however.

“Lady Katherine,” Lady Thistlewhite greeted Kat with a broad smile. “Lord Waldorf. What a pleasant surprise to see the two of you this afternoon.”

“Lady Thistlewhite,” Kat turned and greeted the woman as though the two of them were long-lost friends, and as if Waldorf wasn’t there at all. “It is so lovely to meet you once more. I do not believe I’ve seen you since Lady Clarissa’s tea in September.”

“Has it been that long?” Lady Thistlewhite said, taking Kat’s hands. The two women left feigned kisses on each other’s cheeks, though Lady Thistlewhite made certain to avoid the damned cat in his basket as she did.

Waldorf fought not to roll his eyes. He did not understand women and their bizarre fascination with pretending to have more affection for each other than they did. Men were so much more straightforward. They greeted with a handshake or a nod, then launched right into business. None of this tea party nonsense.

“Lord Waldorf, you are looking so distinguished and handsome with your magnificent whiskers,” Lady Thistlewhite greeted him. “Do you not think so, Beata?”

Lady Beata dropped a short curtsy for Waldorf, eyeing his sideburns as if they might sprout legs or claws and come after her.

“Why do we not take a turn around the park?” Kat asked, raising her voice a bit, almost as if she were jealous of the way Lady Thistlewhite invited her daughter to consider him. “Just the ladies. I am certain Lord Waldorf has no interest in gowns and balls and the like. Speaking of which, have you received your invitation to Lady Ryman’s ball?”

“Lord Waldorf,” Lady Thistlewhite said, ignoring Kat entirely as she stepped closer to him. “I understand that weddings have become quite the fashion in your family of late. I would so like tohear more about your brother, Lord Cedric’s, wedding, and your cousin’s, Lord Alden.”

Twin feelings of victory and frustration pulsed through Waldorf. On the one hand, he appeared to be thwarting Kat at whatever game she was playing. On the other, Lady Thistlewhite had just given him an opening which he might be able to expand in order to finagle an invitation to dine with Lord Thistlewhite.

But in the process, Kat had been cut from the conversation entirely. Surprisingly, Waldorf didn’t like that.

“They were both sudden and inexplicable affairs,” he said, feeling as if he was not the person to discuss the details of weddings with a woman. “I’d no idea that either of my kinsmen were interested in marriage until they sprung the announcements on us.”

“You did not?” Lady Thistlewhite asked, exchanging a quick look with her less enthusiastic daughter. “Why, whispers throughout London say that your esteemed father has demanded that all of his sons and nephews marry. Is that not what we heard just yesterday, Beata?”

Waldorf’s jaw went tight. He immediately discounted everything he’d just thought about the situation. Like far too many mamas before her, Lady Thistlewhite saw him as one thing and one thing only, a potential groom for her daughter.

Waldorf had not married for a reason. That reason was standing right there, observing the interaction with a tight expression and stiff shoulders. Kat had ruined him for other women, in more way than one. He did not think he could bear another deception like the one she had perpetrated.

At least, that was what he’d told himself for a long time.

“Lord Waldorf’s cousin, Lord Alden, married a dear friend of mine, Lady Bernadette Attleborough,” Kat said in what was clearly an attempt to pull the conversation back around to her. “That was most certainly a love match and not anything dictatedby Lord Gerald Godwin.” She paused briefly, then said, “I believe Bernadette and Lord Alden will be in attendance at Lady Ryman’s ball. You must join us there. It will be the social event of the season.”

Lady Thistlewhite turned suddenly stony. “I am not certain Lady Ryman is the sort one wishes to be seen patronizing,” she said.

“Perhaps, but everyone who is of any importance will be there,” Kat said, causing Waldorf to arch one eyebrow.

Since when did Kat care about balls? As far as he knew, she despised them. Then again, the Badger Society had their sights on several men who would be in attendance at the ball, and if Waldorf could add one more to those numbers….

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