Katie halted, dangling her feet an inch from the carpet. “You want to come with me? But you never want to visit the tenants with me.”
Mrs. Murray folded her hands in front of her. “Yes, but it occurs to me that a young lady should not be traipsing about the countryside unattended.”
“It’s hardly the countryside,” Katie said, forcing herself to rise and pretend she were unconcerned. “It’s land that’s part ofCarlisle Hall. Until my father sells it, at least. But if you want to come, I welcome you. The Robins’s farm is on the other side of the slough. Wear good boots, because the land can be quite wet and marshy in spots.”
“Marshy?” Mrs. Murray said.
“Just mud and water,” Katie said. “And it’s only two miles to their farm. If we go at a brisk walk and don’t get stuck in the marsh, we can be there in half an hour.”
“And if it rains?” Mrs. Murray was eyeing the window again.
“We can wait it out with Mrs. Robins and her children. I hear she has seven, so we will not lack for company.”
The possibility of being stuck with seven children during a rainstorm was the last straw for Mrs. Murray. “I think you had better go without me, my lady. But you had best not go alone.”
“I agree. I’ll take a manservant.” Carlisle wasn’t technically a manservant, but he was a man, and he would serve the Robins by helping with the lean-to.
“Well, that’s fine, then.”
An hour later, Katie made her way through a persistent drizzle to the dower house. As she neared, she realized her cheeks were flaming. She hadn’t considered that she might be embarrassed to see Carlisle after what he’d done last night. He would probably look at her and picture her nether regions. Certainly, he’d become intimately acquainted with that part of her.
She paused on the doorstep, thought about knocking, then turned to go back down the walk. She would go to the Robins’s by herself. She simply couldn’t face Carlisle. But she’d no more than turned when Ellsworth opened the door. “Good day, my lady. Her Grace is expecting you.”
Katie spun around. “HerGrace?”
“She is in the drawing room, my lady.”
Katie couldn’t very well scurry away now. She entered the dower house and allowed Ellsworth to show her to the drawing room. As soon as the door was opened, the duchess said, “Voila!” The older woman stood beside a canvas placed before an arrangement of fruit on a table. Paints were laid out, as were brushes and rags and even a smock. Carlisle sat in a chair to one side, a bemused expression on his face.
“What is this?” Katie said, looking from Carlisle to the duchess and then back to Carlisle. Was it her imagination, or was he more handsome this morning? She noted he hadn’t shaved, and wondered what the stubble of his jaw would feel like on the tender skin of her thighs. She pressed a hand against the heat unfurling in her belly and turned her attention back to the duchess. “Are you painting today?”
“Not a chance, Lady Katherine. This is for you. It’s high time you used the paints my son gifted you.”
“But I was to visit the Robins today.”
The duchess waved a hand. “Too wet. You’ll break an ankle trying to walk through the slough. The weather will turn tonight, and you can go tomorrow when it’s dried out. Today, you paint.”
“I…” Katie truly didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t very well refuse, so she moved toward the paints. She imagined the draw of the palette and canvas for her was like a game of cards or dice to Carlisle. Katie felt a rush of anticipation and eagerness as the scent of the oil wafted closer. Without thinking, she lifted a charcoal and rubbed it between her fingers.
“Now, don’t forget your smock or Mrs. Murray will know what you’ve been about.” The duchess snapped her fingers, and her maid Burns came forward and tied the smock over Katie’s dress, which was old and unfashionable, and yet Mrs. Murray would know the difference between mud and paint if she saw it when Katie returned.
“Henry, let’s leave Lady Katherine to it,” the duchess said.
But Carlisle didn’t rise. “I have some correspondence to attend to, Mama. You don’t mind if I sit and write, do you, Lady Katherine?”
“No,” Katie said, her voice sounding slightly breathy.
“Correspondence?” The duchess narrowed her eyes. “You?”
Carlisle lifted a quill and parchment to show he had already laid out his supplies.
“Very well, but do not talk to the gel. She needs to concentrate.”
“I will be as quiet as a church mouse.”
The duchess made a skeptical sound, then marched out of the room with Burns on her heels. Once the door was closed, Katie peeked over at Carlisle, but he did not look in her direction. He dipped his pen in ink and began to write. She waited, but he continued writing.
Would he really ignore her and write letters?
