Page 55 of Whiskers and Wiles

Whether Kat meant the words in such a way or not, Waldorf felt them expand in his gut. This was the final chance for the two of them to make a go of it together as well. Things had progressed to a point he never could have dreamed of only two weeks prior, but he could not take his eyes from the prize for one moment for fear that it would all dissolve before his eyes.

And yet, even as he thought that, a part of him rebelled against the idea. Hadn’t the trouble before been because he failed to trust Kat when he should? Kat had laid herself bare for him, heart and body, and tangled with him in bed twice in the last day. Their interactions in the last few hours had been nothing but those of two people who had been together for twenty years instead of apart. Why should he fool himself into thinking they were not firmly on the road to complete reconciliation?

His head warned caution. His heart longed for love and peace, but remembered what it felt like to be bruised.

“Are you coming?” Kat asked several minutes later, as Waldorf stood by his mirror, finishing with his neckcloth.

“Yes, of course,” he said, then turned to her.

Kat was as beautiful as she’d ever been. Her hair was still a shade that reminded him of burnished gold in a sunset. Her skin was as creamy as ever, and the small lines around her eyes and mouth merely hinted at a life spent smiling and laughing. Her figure was as glorious as it had ever been, as he well knew, having had intimate knowledge of it again.

It was the basket looped over her arm and the black and white head poking out of it that made him frown.

“You are not bringing that creature downstairs,” he said with a scowl.

Kat’s brow flew up. “I beg your pardon?”

“It is bad enough that you brought it to East Anglia at all,” Waldorf said, approaching her as if he would remove the offending cat from her arm. “At least allow it to stay in your room.”

Kat dodged out of his way, keeping the basket out of his reach, and strode for her door, then out into the hallway. “Napoleon is not used to being shut away in one room,” she said, her chin tilted up. “He is used to having the run of the Oxford Society Club. It would be cruel to forbid him the ability to run and explore.”

“He is a dumb animal,” Waldorf said, following Kat and cat down the hall. “He won’t know one way or another if he is shut in a room for a few days.”

Kat stopped abruptly and swung back to glare at him. “You take that back,” she hissed.

“Take what back?” Waldorf shrugged.

“Napoleon is not dumb,” she said, tilting her chin up. The blasted cat had the gall to mirror the gesture, though how he did it was a mystery to Waldorf. “In fact, Napoleon has far superior intelligence than some men I know.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, then turned and continued to march down the hall.

Waldorf sighed and rubbed a hand over his face before following her. So much for the idyllic fantasy of him and Kat being completely in accord in all things from thence forth.

He let Kat walk a bit ahead of him as they made their way downstairs to the breakfast room. Once there, they were greeted by the majority of Lady Walsingham’s guests already in the breakfast room, most of them done with their meal. Lady Walsingham cooed over Napoleon, which seemed exactly fitting for her character, and even took the blasted creature out of his basket so that some of the other female guests could fawn over the beast as well.

Waldorf could not help but grin smugly when young Mrs. Hollingsworth began to sneeze violently.

“Perhaps I will take Napoleon outside,” Kat said, scooping the monster out of Lady Faucett’s arms. She looked as though she intended to carry the creature rather than putting it back in its basket, where it belonged, however.

“I could assist you, Lady Katherine,” Headland spoke from the end of the table, where he’d been quiet thus far, thank God. He stood and pushed his chair back, then moved as if he would walk around the table to Kat’s end.

“No,” Waldorf said, grabbing the back of the man’s collar as he tried to move. It was a lucky thing Waldorf had passed right behind the man on his way to the sideboard just as Headland spoke. “You will assist me with another matter instead,” he went on, wrenching Headland to the side and marching him out of the room.

“Yes, Anthony, dear,” Lady Walsingham called after them. “Please be of help to Lord Waldorf in whatever he may need.”

Headland stopped struggling then and merely walked out to the hall and down to one of the free parlors deeper into the house. Waldorf had had more than enough of Headland’s games and was determined to bring an end to them once and for all.

“Have I not told you to stay away from Lady Katherine?” he demanded once they were alone. “What will it take for you to come to your senses and go sniffing elsewhere?”

“What, as Lady Katherine herself has gone sniffing?” Headland asked in reply.

Waldorf froze still, bristling with fury. His brain told him to be cautious, to see the trap before it was sprung on him, but an older, less intelligent part of him growled with jealousy, wishing to know more.

“Did you not know?” Headland said with a breathless, anxious laugh. When Waldorf remained stonily silence, he hurried on with, “Yes, your dear Lady Kat has had dozens of lovers behind your back. Or did you think she remained celibate for all these years without you?”

Still, Waldorf said nothing. His scowl deepened, and he narrowed his eyes at Headland until he was certain they were mere slits.

“She has been dreadfully indiscreet with her lovers,” Headland went on. “There was Lord Henry Exmorton, for one. They were quite obvious with each other for years. Then there was that Bloomall chap, you know, the famous actor. He was reported to like both men and women, and I believe he and Lady Katherine used to share partners between them. Oh, and then there was Mr. Farnham, the blacksmith. That was a few years ago, when she was dabbling in the shallow waters beneath her. But I was told Mr. Farnham had an extraordinarily large?—”

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