Love and the Single Heiress

Unmistakable interest flared in his eyes. “What’s this? Something Philip doesn’t know? You must tell me.”

She adopted her most prim expression. “My lips are sealed.”

“That’s wretched, Mum,” Spencer declared. “You mentioned it, so now you must tell.”

Mr. Stanton’s brows rose, and he looked at Spencer. “You don’t know what she’s talking about?”

“I’ve no idea. But unless she wants us to expire from curiosity, she’ll tell us.”

She tapped her pursed lips with her fingertips. “I suppose I can’t have that weighing upon my conscience. But you must promise never to tell.”

“Promise,”both Spencer and Mr. Stanton said dutifully.

“Very well. When I was about Spencer’s age, I would climb the tree outside Philip’s bedchamber at night and toss pebbles at his window.”

“Why did you do that?” Spencer asked, his eyes wide.

“He was my older brother, darling. It was my responsibility to annoy him. He was convinced the noise was some horrid bird pecking at his window. He’d open the French windows and charge onto his balcony, flapping his arms and saying the naughtiest words, promising all manner of retribution when he caught the guilty bird.”

“That’s horrible, Mum,” Spencer said, but ruined the scolding by laughing.

“He never discovered it was you and not a bird?” Mr. Stanton asked, his amusement evident.

“Never. In fact, I’ve never told anyone, until now.”

“I am honored to be taken into your confidence.” He chuckled. “Although I would dearly love to tell Philip that I know something he does not.” At her frown, he raised his hands in mock surrender. “But I’ll keep my promise not to tell. I’m a man of my word.”

“When did you finally stop tossing the pebbles, Mum? Did Grandfather discover you?”

“Heavens, no. Your grandfather would be properly shocked if he knew I’d even thought about climbing a tree. I’d tied a small basket to one of the tree’s branches, and in it I kept my supply of pebbles. One night I reached my hand into the basket and was horrified to discover that it had become infested with worms.” A shudder ran through her at the memory. “I do not like worms. That episode quite cured me of my tree-climbing tendencies.”

“And rather served you right,” Mr. Stanton said, his grin teasing.

“Yes,”Catherine agreed with a laugh. “I fear I well deserved the sobriquet of ‘Imp’ that Philip bestowed upon me. Surely he’s told you what a devil I was.”

“Oh, he did.” The amusement slowly drained from Mr. Stanton’s expression. “But he also said that he was an awkward, clumsy, serious, pudgy youth who you coaxed from shyness by teaching him how to laugh and smile. How to take time for fun. That your exuberance, loyalty, and love saved him from what would otherwise have been a very lonely childhood.”

A swift jolt of emotion caught Catherine by surprise, swelling her throat, while images of her and Philip as children blinked through her mind. She swallowed hard to find her voice. “His peers often treated him unkindly, which never failed to infuriate me. I only wanted to make him as happy as they’d made him sad. Philip was, and still is, the very finest of brothers. And of men.”

“I agree,” Mr. Stanton said. “Actually, Lady Catherine, I would not be surprised if Philip suspected it was you outside his window and climbed that tree, whereupon he’d have discovered your little basket of pebbles. I assume he was aware of your aversion to worms?”

Catherine blinked, nonplussed, then shook her head and chuckled at her own folly. “Yes, he was. I’ll make a point of asking him about the incident when I see him next. That devil. As neither of you gentlemen has any siblings, I would not expect you fully to appreciate the need for brothers and sisters to irritate each other. Although it was all done in fun.”

“Mum still does impish things, you know,” Spencer announced.

Mr. Stanton looked immediately interested. “Oh? Like what?”

“She slides down the banister.”

Amusement-filled dark eyes assessed her. “Why, Lady Catherine, is this shocking statement true?”

“Sometimes I’m simply in a bit of a hurry to get downstairs,” she said as primly as she could.

“And sometimes she wakes me after Cook’s gone to bed so we can steal to the kitchens and find ourselves a grand snack.”

“Spencer is a growing boy who requires a great deal of nutrition,” she said even more primly, although the effect was ruined when she felt her lips twitching.

“She sings songs with naughty lyrics while she works in the garden.”

“Spencer!” Catherine’s face heated. Good heavens, she hadn’t realized he had heard. “I’m certain you, ah, misunderstood.”

“Not a bit. You tend to sing rather loudly. And off-key.” Spencer grinned at Mr. Stanton. “Mum couldn’t carry a tune in basket.”

“Will you regale us with a selection, Lady Catherine?” Mr. Stanton teased.

A bubble of horrified laughter escaped her, and she coughed to cover the sound. “Perhaps some other time. And now that everyone knows far more about me than they should, it is your turn, Mr. Stanton, to share an ‘I should not have done that’ tale.”

He leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers against his chin. After several seconds of consideration, he said, “The day I arrived in Egypt, after being on board a ship for weeks, I wanted two things: a hot, decent meal, and a hot, decent bath. After I’d eaten, I found a bathhouse on the outskirts of Cairo. Feeling well fed and clean, I departed, only to discover that I’d inadvertently ventured into an area known for cutthroats and thieves. Fortunately, I managed to get out alive. Unfortunately, I was robbed before I managed to escape.”

“Why did you not defeat the brigand with your fists?” Spencer asked, his eyes wide.

“Brigands. There were four of them. And as they all had knives and pistols, I’m afraid I would not have fared very well.”

“What did they steal from you?”

“My money. And my… clothes.”

Spencer’s jaw dropped. “Never say so! All your clothes?”

“All my clothes. Right down to my boots, which quite irked me as they were my favorites.”

“So you were…?” Spencer’s voice trailed off in disbelief.

“Naked as the day I was born,” Mr. Stanton confirmed.

“What did you do?”

“I briefly debated fighting them to get my clothes back, but decided my life was not worth the risk. Fortunately, they seemed disinclined to do away with me. Indeed, I think they were highly amused at leaving me to find my way home in broad daylight, naked as a babe.”

Heat whooshed through Catherine, and her throat went dry at the thought of Mr. Stanton, freshly bathed, standing in a column of golden sunlight. Naked.

She instantly recalled the chapter in the Guide dedicated to instructing Today’s Modern Woman on some of the many things she could do to, and with, a naked man. Her recollection did nothing toward cooling the inferno that seemed to have engulfed her.

“Did anyone see you?” Spencer asked, his eyes agog. Catherine prayed she did not wear a similarly rapt expression and barely resisted the urge to fan herself with her linen napkin.

“Oh, yes, but I just kept running as fast as I could. I finally filched a sheet from someone’s laundry, which afforded me a small measure of my lost dignity. Not one of my more stellar episodes, and while I can laugh about it now, it was not at all humorous at the time. Yes, wandering about Cairo on my own was just one of many ‘I should not have done that’ moments.” He grinned. “Would you like another?”

“Yes!” said Spencer.

“No!” said Catherine at the same time. Mr. Stanton naked, wandering about in a sheet, robbed by armed ruffians, naked… Lord only knew what else he’d done, and she was quite certain she did not want to know. Yes, quite certain.

A nervous laugh escaped her, and she rose, signaling the end to their meal. “Perhaps another time. For now, I suggest we retire to the drawing room. Do you play cards, Mr. Stanton? Chess? Backgammon?”