Page 56 of Whiskers and Wiles

Waldorf launched himself at Headland, grabbing him and turning him so that he could throw Headland’s back against the nearest wall. He used his forearm across the bastard’s throat to cut off his air so that he couldn’t say another word against Kat.

“Whether those things are true or not is nobody’s business,” he said. “Not yours and not mine. Lady Katherine is and always has been her own woman. She had no husband against whom she was being false, and no other lover with any claim on her.”

As bitter as it tasted to say that, he was including himself in the statement. He had no ownership of Kat one way or another. If she had had lovers in the intervening years—and knowing the strength of her passions, he had always assumed she had—then it was not for him to say a word against her for it.

But it burned like acid in his belly all the same.

He would not let that selfish, irrational part of himself win again.

“Leave. Kat. Alone,” he growled, pushing harder at Headland’s throat before letting him go.

Headland’s knees gave out once Waldorf walked away, and the last sight he had of the man was as he crumpled to a pile on the floor. Waldorf took no delight in it, though. He felt like a tiger in a cage, fighting with his jealousies and his reason over the woman he loved. He could not let the wrong parts of himself lash out this time.

The rest of the party had quit the breakfast room and left the house entirely by the time Waldorf returned to seek out Kat. On the directions of one of Oxwick’s maids, he followed them outside, catching up with the party as Lady Walsingham brought them to a small lake at one end of the property.

“What new hell is this?” he asked Kat in a voice that was far too dark and grumbling as he joined her side.

There were a dozen or so small rowboats lined up along the edge of the lake. Each one had been painted with bright colors,inside and out, including the oars. On one of the seats of each boat was a closed envelope.

“I’ve no idea,” Kat said, still cradling her blasted cat and stroking its head. She turned to Waldorf, then frowned when she saw his expression. “What is the matter?” she asked. “What did Lord Headland do?”

Waldorf did not have time to answer. Lady Walsingham had already begun her instructions for whatever new game involved the boats.

“This is the Trial of Affection,” the woman said, gesturing to the boats. “As you can see, each boat is ready to be rowed out into the center of the lake. Within each boat you will find an envelope. The envelope contains questions that you must ask each other when you are alone on the water. You may not return to shore until each of the questions has been asked and answered by both beloveds in turn.”

“God only knows what’s in those envelopes,” Mr. Bowman grumbled near Waldorf.

Waldorf would have laughed, or at least grinned, but the petty, impatient, jealous part of him was too disturbed by Headland’s accusations.

To add insult to injury, Headland had decided to join the rest of them. Waldorf caught sight of him striding across the lawn, his gaze trained on Kat. He looked as though his nose was severely out of joint, which it would have been, considering the way Waldorf had manhandled him.

Waldorf was almost glad when Lady Walsingham said, “Now, please step forward with your beloved, choose a boat, and row as far from shore as you can for your trial.”

Whereas before, Waldorf would have rolled his eyes and perhaps attempted to feign illness or a fear of water to escape the exercise, instead, he grabbed Kat’s hand, stopping her from petting Napoleon, and said, “Put the cat down and come along.”

“I am not leaving Napoleon alone on shore,” Kat insisted, jerking out of Waldorf’s grip, but following him down to a boat that was painted a lurid blue.

“He’s a cat. Cats do not belong on the water,” Waldorf insisted.

“If I leave him on the shore with Lord Headland anywhere nearby, there is no telling what might happen to him,” Kat whispered once they’d reached the boat.

Waldorf sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. Blast it, but she had a point. “At least put him in his basket,” he said.

“The basket is in the house,” Kat told him stubbornly.

“Fine,” Waldorf snapped. “Put him in the boat, and if he stays there, he can come along. If he jumps out and runs, you cannot chase him.”

Kat narrowed her eyes at Waldorf, then sniffed. “Very well,” she said.

Waldorf should have been impressed by the fortitude the hell beast showed by remaining relatively still in his mistress’s arms as Waldorf handed her into the boat. He should have known from the sneering look Napoleon threw at him that the cat would remain in Kat’s arms as she sat on the bench with the envelope and that he would behave just to spite him.

Waldorf muttered under his breath, but he had no choice but to push the boat off the lakeside, then leap into it himself, sit, and reach for the oars. He hoped Napoleon would jump to freedom then, and he did scramble out of Kat’s arms as she was distracted with the envelope, but he merely crouched, tense and panting, on the floor of the boat instead of making a break for freedom.

By then, it was too late. Waldorf grudgingly took hold of the oars and plunked them into the water, then steered the boat around to row them out into the water. At least doing so tookthem away from Headland, who looked very much as if he would like to tattle to Kat about the violence Waldorf had used against him, as if that would sway Kat to his side.

“I suppose you should know that I manhandled Headland just now as I warned him to stay away from you,” he told Kat in a quiet voice, so as not to be overheard by nearby, floating couples. It was better to get the truth out himself than to have it used against him.

Kat was in the process of opening the envelope, and Waldorf wasn’t certain she’d even heard him. That suspicion only grew when Kat pulled a card out of the envelope, read it, then said in a dreary, strained voice, “Oh, no.”

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