The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

Her jacket followed, but as it didn’t meet over her breasts, she was forced to leave it open, revealing a well-worn white blouse.

“I’m not exactly the height of fashion, am I, Lilly?” She stepped back and regarded herself ruefully in the mirror, making a moue at herself. “Well, no matter, it’s not that important just so long as I don’t gain enough flesh so the buttons won’t meet.”

Lilly felt a stab of indignation. It was disgraceful how Sir Oliver treated his daughter.

“You look just fine, Miss Kate. Now, just let me twitch this pleat in place. There.”

“You are quite kind to say so, Lilly. But so untruthful. However, a compliment shouldn’t ever be turned away. I’ll savor this one fully, I promise you.” She gave Lilly an affectionate hug, picked up her riding gloves, and made her way with a light step downstairs.

She took a deep breath, planted a smile on her face, and squared her shoulders.

9

Robert Bleddoes rose with alacrity and hurried over to greet her. He was dressed in his usual brown broadcloth, eminently suitable for country wear, as he had once informed her. Harry, who now affected the “windblown” fashion made stylish by Lord Byron, had sniffed disdainfully at Robert’s close-cropped brown hair, declaring him to be the complete flat, which, truth be told, he was— a conceited, arrogant, complete flat.

“Good morning, Robert,” she said, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?”

Robert bowed ponderously and clasped Kate’s proffered hand in his longer than necessary, but she pulled it firmly away.

“Good day to you, Miss Katharine. May I say that you are in great looks today.”

“I would prefer that you did not say something so utterly untrue, Robert, but since you have already, I suppose it would be inhospitable of me to cavil.” She watched him closely as he blinked in an effort to understand her words.

He brightened. “Ah, my dear lady, you have such a ready wit. I see that you are jesting with me. Jesting is suitable for a young girl, so it doesn’t bother me at all. A few more years and you will grow more properly reserved, I doubt it not, particularly with kindly superior nurturing.”

She wanted to hit him on his head with a fireplace poker, then kick all his superior nurturing to York, but she managed to contain herself. She pictured her father’s reaction and forced a very false smile. “Do take a seat, Robert. What news of Bonaparte do you have for me today?” With Napoleon’s defeat and his subsequent departure to Elba, Robert, for the past six months, had never arrived at Brandon Hall without some bit of news to give credence to his visits.

He cleared his throat, beaming at her with approval. “I had thought that you and Sir Oliver, of course, would find it of great interest that the Allies will convene this fall in Vienna to determine the fate of France.”

She didn’t tell Robert that the earl had already discussed this interesting topic with her and that as a result, she found his news to be not entirely accurate. “It’s a critical step in restoring a balance of power,” the earl had told her. “Lord Castlereagh, our ambassador, has a mighty difficult task facing him, particularly after the bad will resulting from the Czar’s visit to England in June.”

“Actually,” she’d said with a laugh, “it was more the Grand Duchess Catherine who nearly flummoxed the Regent.”

He laughed and ruffled her hair, the braid coming unbound beneath her old hat. Just that one afternoon, she’d sneaked out of Brandon Hall wearing her boy’s clothes and they’d gone fishing.

She answered Robert now with only a ghost of humor in her voice. “How very kind you are to ride such a great distance to so enlighten me. Why, I wish I could pack my bags this instant and accompany our ambassador to Vienna. I do wonder, though, how much diplomacy will actually be conducted, with all the routs and balls and soirees.”

Robert pondered her words with great seriousness and finally announced, “Ah, you are attempting to jest with me again, my dear. You would, of course, have no desire to travel out of England. Foreign travel is not at all the thing for well-bred English ladies. And your jests about our men of power, well, naturally they are not quite the thing. These men will comport themselves with high propriety.”