Page 49 of Whiskers and Wiles

“Do not blame me foryourmistakes and miscalculations,” she hissed at him, keeping her voice low, once Lady Walsingham moved on to assist the other couples that had reached the table with their lemons.

“Then stop making them,” Waldorf growled, keeping his voice low as well.

Kat made a sound of frustration as she freed her ankle and stood. Waldorf stood with her, and as more couples reached the table, they shifted to the side.

“I’ve no wish to argue,” Kat said, scowling. “Not when we have a mission to accomplish. Lord Walsingham has apparently snuck away. Why do you not go and find him and speak to him, and I will attempt to separate Lady Walsingham from her guests so that I might speak to her about you know what.”

Waldorf narrowed his eyes at her, though whether because he did not want to take orders from her or because he thought her suggestion was a good one, but resented that she’d been the one to make it, she didn’t know.

“We cannot fail at this,” Waldorf said at last as he took a step back, then turned and marched off. “We will not get another chance.”

Kat felt an emptiness open inside herself as she watched Waldorf’s retreating back. She bit her lip, sudden longing surprising her. Waldorf was right. They would not get a second chance. Thiswastheir second chance. If they failed, it would be the end forever.

Fifteen

Waldorf despised losing.Having grown up as the youngest in a household filled with noisy, competitive boys, he knew the consequences of falling short in any way. A part of him was able to admit that old wounds inflicted not by Kat, but by his brothers and cousins were what had caused him to lash out when their glass of lemonade had toppled. It was not truly incompetence on Kat’s part. In fact, Kat had performed brilliantly when called to in the mad race.

A deeper part of him was left utterly unsettled as he watched Kat march away from the barmy race—which was not finished simply because the winner had been declared. He could not help but make the comparison in his mind to another time when he and Kat had engaged in a sort of competition together, working as one for a common goal, only to fall short at the final hurdle.

“Yes, that is what we wish to see,” Lady Walsingham cheered on the other competitors as they reached the table in dribs and drabs. “Work together to accomplish a difficult goal. Let your movements inform each other’s. The true prize is gentle accord and pride in a task completed together, not victory over others.”

Though she was looking elsewhere when she said it, Waldorf had the sinking feeling Lady Walsingham was speaking to him. Or perhaps to Lord and Lady Postern, who had stepped to the side so that they might gloat over the late-arriving competitors.

When Lord Postern shot Waldorf a smug look, Waldorf had had enough. He accepted a damp towel from one of the footmen, who was fighting not to laugh at the ridiculousness of his betters, wiped his hands, and marched away from the bedlam on the lawn and back toward the house.

He hadn’t the first idea where to find Lord Walsingham, but he was determined to search the man out and have words with him. Kat had been correct in her statement that, if all else failed, they needed to at least attempt to accomplish their mission. A large part of him was beginning to think Lady Walsingham was a lost cause, but she was Kat’s to deal with. Lord Walsingham might still be able to be reasoned with.

He had begun to formulate a plan of attack on his walk back to the house when a hint of movement in the corner of his eyes caught his attention. He paused several yards before one of the doors leading into the house and leaned back to see what the movement had been.

Headland stepped into view several yards off to Waldorf’s left. The man looked confused but determined as he searched the area of the garden near the kitchen’s extensive planting of herbs. Waldorf guessed at once that the bastard was searching for Kat. From the puzzled look in his eyes and the crease between his brows, Headland hadn’t found her, but she was nearby.

Just the thought of all the trouble Headland had put Kat through and the idea that he might cause more had Waldorf’s already brittle temper close to snapping. Instead of heading into the house, he changed his path and marched toward Headland.

“If you’ve any thoughts of finding and harassing Lady Katherine,” he began before he’d even reached Headland, “you had better give them up at once and leave the woman alone.” He added as much threat as he could to his final words.

Headland nearly jumped at Waldorf’s approach. His confused expression expanded to one of surprise and indignation as he turned to face Waldorf head-on. “I’ve no idea what you are talking about, Lord Waldorf,” he said, affecting disinterest.

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” Waldorf growled at him.

He stormed right up to Headland, intending to intimidate the man into backing off and leaving the garden entirely. Headland merely backpedaled a few steps, until he was almost pressed against a trellis twined with vines that were past their growing season.

“You cannot assault me in my sister’s house,” he said, a crack in his voice as if he thought Waldorf might employ violence against him.

“I’ve no need to assault you,” Waldorf said, narrowing his eyes and pinning Headland to the trellis with his eyes alone. “I merely need to remind you that Lady Katherine is not interested in your advances, and that any man who continues his advances on a woman after she has declined them is likely to gain a reputation that he does not want.”

He could have said something much harsher and likely should have, but halfway through his statement, he caught sight of Kat emerging cautiously from behind the corner of a toolshed at the edge of the garden. She glanced Waldorf’s way, looking as harassed and worried as a fishwife on the street, nodded carefully to Waldorf, then dashed into the house.

Headland did not see her, nor did he appear to have the first clue that anyone was in the garden besides the two of them. “You do not know that Katherine would or has refused my suit,”he said, his breathlessness and tension giving away that he was bluffing. “We have a charming rapport, and the countryside of Oxwick Park is an ideal setting to rekindle old flames.”

Waldorf’s face pinched. “She’s taken,” he said, relying on the deception Queen Matilda had put them up to as a defense.

Headland snorted. “I no more believe you and Katherine are engaged than I believe the sun is a gold pocket watch.”

“Believe it,” Waldorf said, leaning into Headland and balling one hand into a fist. “She is mine and she always has been.” Kat would flay him alive for declaring such possessiveness over her, but it was the only language men like Headland understood.

“You are lying,” Headland said, eyes narrowed. “I cannot imagine why. I’ve no idea why you would set out so suddenly the morning after a crucial ball to attend my sister’s retreat, but I can assure you, I will uncover your reasons and destroy you. Katherine should have been and still should be mine.”

“She does not want you,” Waldorf said, astounded at the man’s thickness. “She never did.”

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