The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She sat herself at her dressing table and began vigorously brushing her hair. In the mirror she saw that Lilly was still in blissful contemplation over this imaginary scene. She put down her hairbrush and said matter-of-factly, “Lilly, let me be serious. The earl honors us with his friendship. That is all. Indeed, he probably simply has more time on his hands than he’s used to, and thus he wants for diversion. We are the diversion. As for Robert Bleddoes, well, you know as well as I do that the idiotic man expects all females to swoon at his feet. Why he must continually pester me, and with no encouragement, is more than I can fathom, curse his hide.”

She turned back to her mirror and continued brushing the tangles from her hair. She’d not been exactly forthcoming with Lilly, but it was none of her maid’s affair in any case.

Lilly shot her mistress an incredulous look. If only she knew the servants’ gossip. It was plain as a pikestaff that the earl was smitten with Miss Katharine Brandon, daughter of a mere baronet— and a daughter also despised by her father. Why, he had called at Brandon Hall no fewer than four times during the past week. Everyone knew it, save, it seemed to Lilly, her mistress. As for Squire Bleddoes, that pompous windbag, Lilly would be quite content to see him routed. Quite a nuisance he’d become, presenting himself at the hall on only the flimsiest of pretexts.

Kate harbored very close to the same opinion of Robert Bleddoes as her maid did. She’d met him by accident nearly six months before, when she’d ridden a far greater distance than she had intended. She thought him at first to be a rather overserious young man but quite unexceptionable. She soon realized that his prosaic opinions, invariably uttered with monotonous precision, masked a feeling of vast self-importance that made her grit her teeth and talk herself out of smacking his face. After his first visit to Brandon Hall, she was convinced that he was a total bore.

She said as much to her father and stared at him with disbelief when he rounded on her in fury. “You discourage him, my girl, and you’ll feel my walking stick on your back.” He added with such blatant derision that she flinched, “You think yourself so puffed up, my little lady. Let me tell you, if Bleddoes offers for you, it will be much more than you deserve. That any man would want you is more than I can imagine.”

Mindful of Sir Oliver’s warning, she didn’t openly discourage Robert. She forced herself to learn tolerance and tried to treat him as kindly as she treated Flip, the pug. She’d played a dangerous game the past three months, holding Robert off as best she could with soft, vague words, and skirting the issue of marriage whenever Sir Oliver tried to broach it.

Sir Oliver, happily not aware that Robert had declared himself on several occasions, blamed her for her failure to bring the squire up to scratch. He commented to her sourly one evening at dinner, “I might have known that you couldn’t attract a man. You are a witless, unnatural girl.”

Kate didn’t think of herself as being witless or unnatural, but she remained wisely silent. She kept her head down and concentrated on forking a lone pea that lay in the center of her plate.

It occurred to her now, as she handed Lilly a ribbon with which to secure her hair, that Sir Oliver hadn’t mentioned Robert Bleddoes for the past week. She tapped her fingers on the tabletop. No, it was true, there had been no mention of the squire since the earl of March had come to call. She went pale at this realization. Dear God, Sir Oliver couldn’t possibly think the earl was interested in her.

Kate rose somewhat unsteadily and raised her arms for Lilly to slip the riding skirt over her head.

“Draw a deep breath, Miss Kate. The buttons won’t meet elsewise.”

Kate sucked in her breath and felt the buttons dig into her skin through the thin material of her chemise.