Page 150 of Kathryn

“Katie!”

“Shhhh,” Katie hissed, glancing toward the connecting door. “I can hear Court moving about in there—perhaps even Dulverton—do you want to get me caught?”

Becky ignored her question, but she did lower her voice, “Why on earth are you meeting him if not to pay him?”

“Because I am going to tell him I will send my own letter to the newspapers.” Katie was ashamed it had taken her so long to come up with a response to his threats. How could she be so good at chess and yet have neglected to see the best move against him?

Becky’s perplexed expression was comical. “What?”

“It’s a gambit. A bluff,” she explained when her friend continued to look confused. She gestured to the missive she’d worked on all morning. It had been painful, but she’d laid out the general circumstances of their liaison—including his false promise to marry her—and then gone on to describe their physical relations in excruciating detail, depicting Jasper as a selfish and inept lover. Katie hadn’t even needed to exaggerate much. Jasper was an appallingly selfish lover compared to Dulverton. Katie was relying on Jasper’s towering conceit and pride to work in her favor. What man would enjoy having his lack of amorous skills broadcast to the world?

Becky snatched the letter Katie had written off the desk. Her cheeks turned brighter and brighter as she read. “I do not even know what half of this means,” she admitted with obvious mortification. “But the half I do understand?” She shook her head. “You are just as mad as he is, Katie—madder, for you actually have something to lose.”

“What are my other options? Tell me, what do you think Dulverton would do if I told him right now that Jasper was threatening to expose me if I did not pay him?”

Becky opened her mouth, but then closed it, furrows marring her forehead. Katie knew the other woman was recalling Dulverton’s rage toward Ampthill for merely talking to her. She finally sighed. “His Grace would probably kill him.”

“Precisely. And if I pay Jasper now, he will just come back again in a few years—or maybe even less time—when he is pockets-to-let. I have no other choice, Becky. He needs to leave here knowing that I cannot be bullied or threatened into doing his bidding. I need to show him I am willing to tell my side of the story if he tells his. It is fighting fire with fire.”

Becky’s expression was grimmer than Katie had ever seen. “I hope it will be enough, Katie. I surely do.”

So did Katie.

***

Getting through dinner and two chess games afterward was difficult. Not because of anything Dulverton did, but because of Katie’s own guilt.

And then there was the fact that he was so uncharacteristically sweet when he stopped outside her door. “I will miss you tonight,” he said, and then kissed her palm, opened the door, and left her with a pounding pulse and equally pounding conscience at lying about her flux.

“Are you sure about this?” Becky asked half an hour later, her cornflower-blue eyes flickering over the buckskin breeches and clawhammer coat that Hy had given Katie several years back so they could ride astride around the grounds of Chatham Park.

“Yes. I am sure.” Katie pulled the hood of her dark gray cloak over her hair and then tugged on her black gloves. “I should only be gone an hour. If I am gone longer than… let’s say two hours, then tell His Grace where I went.”

Becky pursed her lips but, to Katie’s relief, did not argue.

They tiptoed down to the sunroom, which had a door that was closer to the stables than the main entrance. When Becky began to follow her, Katie shook her head. “I don’t need help saddling a horse, but I do need the key to the tack room.”

Becky handed over the key she’d taken from somewhere—Katie hadn’t wanted to ask since her friend had looked so angry about it. “Here. Make sure you bring it back—along with yourself. Be careful, Katie.”

“I will.” Katie gave her a quick, hard hug, opened the door, and then hurried across the lawn toward the stables. This would be the trickiest part, but Becky assured her that the stablemaster, Mr. Bickle, always went to bed not long after dark unless he knew that Dulverton would require him. Once Mr. Bickle shut down the stables none of the other servants loitered in his domain.

Katie took the lantern from the hook in the brick-lined courtyard and carried it into the utter darkness of the building, stopping first at the tack room, where the key slid into the lock like a knife through butter. She located Robin’s saddle and blanket and set it outside the room before slinging his bridle over her shoulder and re-locking the door.

It was far warmer in the bowels of the stable than it was outside, and the smell of horse was strong. The sound of hooves shifting uneasily in their boxes and a few low nickers greeted her as she counted stalls to the seventh one, which is where Becky said Robin was kept.

“Robin?” she whispered, amused when the horse gave what sounded like a puzzled but happy whicker.

She hung the lantern on the hook, quickly bridled him, and then hurried back to fetch his saddle and blanket. Once she’d cinched his girth, she led him to the courtyard, quickly rehung the lantern, and then stepped up onto the heavy mounting block and lowered herself on his back. It was much easier situating herself on the side-saddle without a heavy train getting in her way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, taking a moment to stroke the side of his neck. “Let’s go, shall we?” He sprang forward and Katie cringed at the sound of his hooves on the cobbles, expecting to hear shouts and raised voices any minute, but she reached the path in blessed silence.

The moonlight was bright enough until she reached Echo Forest, where it was almost pitch black beneath the heavy tree canopy. Katie sorely missed the lantern, and even though Robin knew the path well, he picked his way slowly, giving her far too much time to ponder what she was about to do.

She breathed a sigh of relief once they’d made their way out of the forest, but her relief was short-lived because she reached the path that led to the empty cottage a scant five minutes after that.

“Wish me luck, boy,” she said to Robin as they turned onto the narrow driveway that led to the cottage. The tree canopy was thinner here than in Echo Forest, and the moonlight danced eerily. She ruthlessly suppressed the nasty tendril of fear in her belly. “There is nothing to be afraid of, is there, boy?” She stroked Robin’s neck as they came out of the tunnel of trees into the clearing that surrounded the cottage.

Katie reined in, frowning. There was no horse and no lights in the house. Was she too early, or—