Page 3 of Whiskers and Wiles

“Andthisis not like you,” Waldorf said, shaking the packet of letters. “Or so I thought. Now I am not so certain.”

Tears of frustration and confusion stung at Kat’s eyes. “Please explain to me what those are and what you mean,” she said, unable to make her voice louder than a whisper.

“These, madam, are letters from yourotherlover,” Waldorf said, shaking the packet again. “The one you were just caught kissing in the street.”

Kat’s jaw dropped. Her confusion turned to anger, but her frustration remained. “I have no other lover and you know it,” she said, her entire body going stiff with indignation. “You are the only man I have ever loved.”

“And yet, you were witnessed just now by myself and many in this house kissing someone else,” Waldorf snapped.

Kat’s heart hardened with anger. “He accosted me, Waldorf. I was not in any way a willing party to that assault.”

He should have taken her word for it then and there. He was a good man, a patient man, for the most part. Their time together was always beautiful and enjoyable. She’d never seen him so rash or quick to judge.

Then again, that was not entirely true. Waldorf was a man of passion, like she was. He’d confronted someone who tossed a casual, teasing insult his way a time or two. He’d lost his patience with fellow students during study sessions or when at the pub. Kat had always loved his fire, though. Though he was many years older than her, she’d always considered his impulsivity to be youthful high spirits. She loved those high spirits. She’d just never expected his occasional rashness to be turned on her.

“Assault, you say?” he demanded, thrusting out the letters to her. “And was it assault every other time that he kissed you? Was it unwanted when he spent nights right here, in your bed, when I was not there to warm it for you?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Kat said, breathless with horror.

“Take them, madam,” Waldorf insisted, gesturing with the letters once more. “Though I am certain you’ve read them until each sordid word was memorized.”

Kat took the packet, now eager, though deeply wary, to learn what the letters were all about. “I told you, I’ve never seen these before in my life,” she said.

Waldorfhumphedas she pulled at the ribbon, then tore open the letter on the top of the stack. It bore a date from the previous autumn at its top and immediately leapt into a salacious recounting of a supposed liaison the author had had with her. The descriptions of wicked acts was poetic, but it was clear that the intent of the author was to make Waldorf believe he had engaged in sexual congress with her. And, of course, the letter was signed with effusions of love and the name Anthony.

“These are lies,” Kat hissed, her anger now warring with fear within her. “You know full well that Lord Headland has attempted and, might I add, failed miserably to win me this past year. I have never, not once, encouraged him, and I most certainly did not engage in this sort of correspondence with him.”

“Are you telling me these letters are false?” Waldorf said, pulling himself to his full height, like he was looking down on her.

“Yes! That is precisely what I’m telling you,” Kat shouted at him.

“Mary!”

Kat blinked in surprised as Waldorf turned to one of the house’s maids, who Kat only just noticed was watching the entire confrontation from just around the corner in the hallway.

“Yes, Lord Waldorf,” Mary said, rushing into the room.

“Did you or did you not serve as messenger to deliver letters between Lady Katherine and Lord Headland all this past year?” Waldorf demanded.

To Kat’s horror, Mary nodded and said, “Yes, your lordship, I did.”

Kat gaped. “You liar! How could you?” A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes to ask, “How much is Lord Headland paying you to lie?”

“I ain’t lyin’,” Mary said, tilting her chin up stubbornly. “You and Lord Headland have been carrying on this entire time.” She flushed a dark shade of red as she spoke and her eyes darted anxiously to the window and everywhere but at Kat.

“Liar!” Kat repeated.

“You are the liar, madam,” Waldorf said, his voice growing cold. “You are the false, deceitful, wicked liar that led me on this entire time, thinking you were the only woman for me, that you were the only woman I could ever see myself wed to. You are the harlot who was just seen kissing another man in the open.”

“He assaulted me!” Kat cried out in indignation. “And she is lying. I’ve never seen these letters in my life.”

“I suppose you will deny that you wrote to him as well,” Waldorf said.

“Yes, I deny it, you blithering idiot!” Kat shouted, throwing the letters to the floor. “How can you be so blind to what is transpiring here. Lord Headland has conspired to turn you against me because he could not win me away from you. He has clearly paid Mary to further his deceit.”

“You are the deceitful one, madam,” Waldorf shouted at her. “I saw your deceit myself.”

“Then you are a fool, sir!” Kat shouted.

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