Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (4 page)

“She is mute and
dimwitted, Madam, not deaf,” said Robert as he plucked a goblet of wine from a
servant’s tray. “You can ask, but she will not answer.”

Sarah sat back
and touched her fingers to her lips as if self-conscious. Her gaze flitted to Agnes,
who raised her brows and gave a bored shrug.

Alex watched
Katherine’s aggravated, rhythmic tap of her fingers on her slate, and wondered
why anyone, including himself, had assumed she’d be daft. She seemed perfectly
attuned to the activity around her. The slight smirk on her face as she
examined everyone’s clothing confirmed his initial suspicion of her arrogance;
a product of London nobility she was. Had she been even haughtier before the
fire? Was she a bit more humbled now by the new knowledge of her past?

His mind snapped
to attention when she lifted the chalk to write, and he involuntarily tensed
and clenched his jaw. “’Tis an annoyance to hear that sound.”

Brows furrowing
with indignation, she waved him off with a quick flick of her hand. Alex glared
at her, but knew her reaction was justified. The slate was her only means of
communication.

Beside him,
Robert’s angular features creased into a smile. “Your acquisition seems lively.
And she is not old after all, is she?”

Alex grunted
under his breath and drew a scowl. “Not old. But a burden nonetheless.” No need
to tell Robert how she affected him.

The statement
had been meant for Robert’s ears only, but Agnes caught it and giggled. “Lord
Drayton, you mustn’t be cruel to poor Lady Katherine. She may be a burden, as
you said, but she certainly admires your drapes.”

Across the room,
Katherine glowered at Agnes, then turned darkened eyes, etched with hurt, on
him.

Alex hid both
his annoyance at Agnes and regret at his words. She had just caused him the
need to apologize to Katherine.

“A highwayman
lurks along the woodland path to Chiswick,” Sarah said. “My maid told me she
heard he attacked a lone rider last week and left him for dead.”

“He is a
coward,” Robert said. “He hides in the woods, and only shows himself when
there’s one rider.”

“I would be
afraid to go to town without at least two footmen,” Elizabeth said with a
shiver.

Edward sent his
easy smile toward Elizabeth. “Just stay on the main road away from the forest,
and you should be fine. ’Tis what I’d do.”

“That’s you,
Ed,” Robert growled. “You’d steer clear of him. Agnes now, if she were a man,
she’d run the rogue down and run a sword through him before he got a chance to
yelp.”

Agnes flipped
open her white fan and began a swift flutter, her eyes on Alex above the lacy
edge. “But I am a lady, Father. Not a man.”

“Must’ve been a
mistake,” Robert said.

The usual gleam
of Agnes’ eyes faded. Edward, perhaps used to such talk, sent a dispassionate
glance toward his father.

Alex silently
acknowledged a brief empathy toward Robert’s children, and then returned his
attention to Katherine. Had any doctor inspected her throat? He dismissed the
question. The king had no reason not to have aided Katherine as her father’s
traitorous trunk had only been discovered in the past month. Not only that, but
she was a noblewoman formerly betrothed to a man holding the prestigious
position of gentleman of the king’s bedchamber. Surely even a worm like Lord
Rochester would pay the best doctors in London to heal her before he grew tired
of waiting and shook her from his pudgy, bejeweled hands.

The best
doctors. And in London, too. Before he could crush it, a ghost of an idea took
shape in Alex’s mind.

“And the dog
leaps, I tell you, leaps as high as my head to catch the dried sheep dung that
the groomsman’s children throw,” Edward was telling them, his eyes now bright
with amazement. “I watched it myself this morning.”

“Pish, Ed,”
Robert said, holding out his goblet for a servant to refill. “You spend too
much time on your poems and herb potions to discipline the workers. They should
be putting the shit in bags instead of throwing it around. Those brats need a
stick to their backs.”

“Well,” Edward
finished, his smile fading, “I thought it rather funny.”

Curious, Alex
watched Katherine stiffen over Robert’s comment. Betrothed to a man like the
earl, and doubtless a regular at Court, she should be used to such vulgar talk.

A servant
announced the meal. Alex rose without further thought and performed his customary
duties whenever the Cookes came to dinner. He approached Agnes, who rose
regally and placed her hand on his offered forearm.

Robert and Sarah
would take their places behind himself and Agnes, followed by Edward and
Elizabeth.

But now there
was Katherine to consider. She rose and stood with clasped hands. Although she
held her head high, from the look on her face, Alex knew she fought humiliation
over having no escort.

Blast it all. He
couldn’t make her walk alone to the dining room. And she would be a quiet
diversion from Agnes’ aimless chatter. “Excuse me, Agnes,” he said pleasantly,
and extracted her hand from his arm while noting the slight narrowing of her
eyes. Approaching Katherine, he asked, “May I also escort you to dinner, my
lady?”

She regarded him
doubtfully and must have considered his act one of forced politeness, but
walked with him toward the parlor door.

A delicate
lavender scent wafted from her smooth, soft looking skin. Deep warmth from her
hand on his arm caused a wild thump of his heart. What was she doing to him?

With effort, he
raised his other arm so that Agnes could lay her hand on it. That arm remained
cool. How strange.

As they left the
parlor, Alex had an overwhelming urge to stop and grasp Katherine’s entire body
against his to see just how warm the rest of her felt. As quickly as he
repressed the thought, perspiration beaded his forehead. He would draw
attention to his reaction if he released either woman’s arm to wipe it off.

What the devil
was wrong with him?

Katherine
carried her slate curled in her left arm, determined to use it despite Lord Drayton’s
admonishment. He had no idea of the painful agony she’d endured in the sudden
loss of her voice. Although the slate was a poor substitute, it was her
lifeline in expression.

While those
walking behind them spoke quietly among themselves, Agnes’ tongue ran on
wheels, maintaining a strident prattle that echoed through the Hall. Although
Lord Drayton responded in polite tones, he didn’t elaborate on her words. Once,
he glanced down at Katherine, who had just noticed a sheen of moisture on his
forehead.

The moment Agnes
stopped talking long enough to take a breath, he said quietly, “Lady Katherine,
I apologize for my comment about your being a burden. I know you cannot help
your circumstances.”

Agnes gave an
annoyed click of her tongue.

Lord Drayton
continued, his tone a curious mixture of hope and reluctance. “Doctors examined
your throat, did they not?”

Katherine
nodded. What did Lord Drayton care about her throat?

“’Tis odd that
they couldn’t diagnose the cause of your silence.”

What was odd was
the heat that sizzled from his forearm. If they didn’t reach the table soon,
her hand would catch fire. Once, his elbow—unintentionally, she was sure—grazed
the side of her breast as they walked. A shiver rippled through her. She
swallowed against the ridiculous drumming of her heart and struggled to maintain
even breaths.

“You have a
competitive spirit, Agnes,” Lord Drayton said, and Katherine’s attention was
immediately drawn to his baritone voice as quickly as it had dismissed Agnes’
high-pitched tone. “Edward and Elizabeth won the last game of cribbage. We
shall play tonight, if you wish. Or, I could read from
Paradise Lost
,
the book I received the other day.”

Lord Drayton
read books the likes of
Paradise Lost
?

To her chagrin,
he caught her amused reaction. “Even country dwellers such as I enjoy reading,”
he said with a smile that complemented the unexpected twinkle in his eyes.

Then, Agnes
resumed her blathering, and Katherine shut her out.

They passed a
long table that would easily seat twenty-five people. Directly beyond, they
turned left and entered a dining room that held a round oak table surrounded by
red-cushioned chairs, their backs carved in intricate patterns. Although the
windows in here were also draped, the late afternoon sun stole around the edges
of the cloth, and a large iron candelabrum lit the room.

The rising steam
from a platter of savory roasted meat on the sideboard was no rival against the
smolder of Katherine’s hand on Lord Drayton’s arm.

Alex’s arm grew
cold after Katherine removed her hand to stand behind her chair for prayer.
Afterwards he helped Elizabeth with the carving, serving his guests the choice
pieces of meat. When he sat, he tried to focus on what Agnes was saying, but
found himself drawn to the silent messages Katherine sent his way.

She was forming
opinions of him, of his house, and had stolen glances at him during their walk
to the dining room. For some foolish reason, Alex cared about what she thought.

“Even so, I do
hope Lord and Lady Allerton’s Ball in June will be well-attended by London
gentry,” Agnes was saying. “Will you be going, Lord Drayton?”

“Perhaps,” he
replied.

How did a mute
woman keep up with conversation at a social gathering? She’d have to be
constantly writing with that squeaky chalk, and the discussion would slow to a
crawl in order to include her. How exasperating for all.

They ate and
talked, and Katherine ate and listened. She reacted to the topic at hand with
some facial gesture—raised brow, nod, charming smile. Several times she leaned
forward or lifted her hand as if to respond. Frustration creased her brow
during those moments. Alex mused once again on his unorthodox idea, one that
could anger the king and his Anglican physicians.

“I’d like to
discuss the London fire with her if she is not too softheaded,” Robert said to
Alex.

“Then do so,”
Alex replied with a touch of irritation.

Katherine sent
an alert, expectant look Robert’s way, as if she were ready and able to discuss
the fire. However, Robert spoke to everyone but her. Alex’s opinion of his
blunt neighbor began to sour.

“I heard the
strong east wind made the flames jump houses like a leaping horse,” Robert
said. “’Tis amazing that so many buildings were lost in just a few days.”

“And all those
churches,” Edward put in. He turned to Katherine, and Alex was glad to see it.
“Is the fire how you lost your voice? I do hope you can understand my words.”

Of course she
understood, Alex thought, watching her lift the slate from her lap. She would
have plenty to say about the tragedy that had changed her life, especially now
that her father’s treason had been exposed.

Alex couldn’t
hide his frown thinking she knew all along about it. At that moment, their eyes
met. Her face reflecting uneasy annoyance, she lowered the slate.

Gadzoks. He was
a toad, no better than Robert.

Sarah, cutting
her meat, said quietly, “Edward, perhaps ’tis best not to speak to the simpleton.
You will only confuse her.”

Katherine bent
her head. Her hand trembled as she took a knife and spread honeyed butter on
her bread. She blinked as if fighting tears.

Something hot
and pulsing and fiercely protective within Alex roared to life and kicked him
hard in his gut.

“Try her,
Edward,” he said, keeping his voice pleasant but yearning to shout. “I think you
will find her quite astute. And I will provide you with pen and ink, Lady
Katherine.” He gave the orders to a servant, wondering why he hadn’t thought of
that simple solution already.

She peered at
him—as did Agnes beside her—clearly gauging his intent. Katherine’s moist brown
eyes indicated disbelief, whereas Agnes’ green ones gleamed with suspicion.

“Lady Cooke,”
murmured Elizabeth to her plate, “I doubt that she is a simpleton. She cannot
speak, that is all.”

Surprised, Alex
turned his attention to his timid cousin.

“Well then,
that’s that,” said Edward with a cheerful pat on Elizabeth’s hand.

“My apologies,
Lady Katherine,” said Sarah, her angry eyes on Robert. “My husband evidently
misunderstood his information when he told me you were dead from the neck up.”
She thrust a forkful of beef into her mouth and scraped the pewter prong between
her front teeth as she drew it out.

Alex winced.
Sarah only made that sound with her fork when she was upset with Robert, which
was quite often. More than once, their quarrels at his table had extended to
the parlor after the meal and into their carriage when they left. It was one
more reason to never take another wife.

“I did not misunderstand,”
Robert said in clipped tones. “We assumed the fire had taken her mind as well
as her voice.”