about the formal gardens.
She felt ashamed at her lie of last evening and studied the crushed-stone path beneath her slippers. “Much better, thank you.”
“You slept well?” John asked from her other side.
She looked at him, seeing the same concern that colored Henry’s features. “Yes, indeed.”
They walked on quietly for a few minutes, and Catherine felt her gaze drawn to the wildness beyond the low garden walls. The general obviously paid his gardeners well to keep such a manicured showplace here on the grounds, but it was the untamed woods and brambles that caught her imagination. Little surprise there, she’d wager.
“Where is Isabella?” Catherine asked John. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
“She is seeing to correspondence,” John answered. “Or at least she’d better be,” he added in a low tone.
She guessed he worried over Isabella’s interest in Captain Frederick Tilman. It was true the girl talked of little else.
“And where are your father and brother?” she asked Henry with trepidation.
“Frederick went into the village. My father is going out tonight, so I’m afraid you’ll have another delay in making his acquaintance,” Henry said.
She felt the breath at last leave her lungs. Another reprieve, then. She sat on a nearby bench and the two of them flanked her. “That is a shame,” she murmured. “I fear I know very little about you, Henry,” she went on. “Tell me more about your family.”
Henry appeared surprised by her question. Truth be told, she was brimming over with curiosity of both her beaux. John watched her closely, but that was just as well. She planned to ask him pointed questions when she was finished with Henry.
“Well, you’ve undoubtedly heard about my brother.”
The rake and reprobate, she nearly said. “I believe so. Isabella has talked of him nonstop since last night.”
“My sister can be foolish, Catherine,” John said. “Surely you have come to that conclusion in your months with her.”
Catherine smiled. “Isabella is excitable, but I’ve never met such a warm and generous young woman. She and your aunt have both made me feel quite at home.”
John smiled. “Isabella dotes on you as well.”
Henry cleared his throat. “My father you’ll meet tomorrow, I’m certain. He is a…singular gentleman.”
“That is putting it mildly,” John said with a smile. “I’ve seen him about. I daresay his gaze could freeze a man’s bits.”
Catherine blushed as she hid her smile. “I’ve come to know your aunt, John. What were your parents like?”
“My parents were kind, I suppose. My father, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, was stern, but I was scarcely home to worry over that.”
“John and I knew each other at Cambridge,” Henry offered.
She looked at Henry in surprise. “Oh, then you can tell me about his behavior there!”
“He cannot,” John said. “I was a lad, Catherine. Concerned with only my own pleasures.”
She was correct, then. He was a reformed rake. “Then tell me of Henry’s.”
John’s eyes danced and he leaned close to her. “Henry was diligent in his studies and quite dull indeed.”
Henry shrugged off the backhanded compliment. “I do not deny it. Now, however, I find my interests lie in places other than books.”
They seemed to communicate something between them. Henry’s meaning couldn’t be clearer, as his gaze ran over her form. She wriggled on the bench, her body hot for his touch once again. She had but to close her eyes to recall the amazing pleasure he’d given her with his mouth. John looked at her as well, his hazel eyes dark.
“You know, Catherine,” John mused aloud. “For the first time in our acquaintance Henry and I are of like mind.”
He touched her hand, stroking slowly over her palm as Henry moved a bit closer. She was deliciously trapped between the two of them, and her traitorous body reveled in their closeness. She could smell them over the perfume of the tamed
She felt ashamed at her lie of last evening and studied the crushed-stone path beneath her slippers. “Much better, thank you.”
“You slept well?” John asked from her other side.
She looked at him, seeing the same concern that colored Henry’s features. “Yes, indeed.”
They walked on quietly for a few minutes, and Catherine felt her gaze drawn to the wildness beyond the low garden walls. The general obviously paid his gardeners well to keep such a manicured showplace here on the grounds, but it was the untamed woods and brambles that caught her imagination. Little surprise there, she’d wager.
“Where is Isabella?” Catherine asked John. “I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
“She is seeing to correspondence,” John answered. “Or at least she’d better be,” he added in a low tone.
She guessed he worried over Isabella’s interest in Captain Frederick Tilman. It was true the girl talked of little else.
“And where are your father and brother?” she asked Henry with trepidation.
“Frederick went into the village. My father is going out tonight, so I’m afraid you’ll have another delay in making his acquaintance,” Henry said.
She felt the breath at last leave her lungs. Another reprieve, then. She sat on a nearby bench and the two of them flanked her. “That is a shame,” she murmured. “I fear I know very little about you, Henry,” she went on. “Tell me more about your family.”
Henry appeared surprised by her question. Truth be told, she was brimming over with curiosity of both her beaux. John watched her closely, but that was just as well. She planned to ask him pointed questions when she was finished with Henry.
“Well, you’ve undoubtedly heard about my brother.”
The rake and reprobate, she nearly said. “I believe so. Isabella has talked of him nonstop since last night.”
“My sister can be foolish, Catherine,” John said. “Surely you have come to that conclusion in your months with her.”
Catherine smiled. “Isabella is excitable, but I’ve never met such a warm and generous young woman. She and your aunt have both made me feel quite at home.”
John smiled. “Isabella dotes on you as well.”
Henry cleared his throat. “My father you’ll meet tomorrow, I’m certain. He is a…singular gentleman.”
“That is putting it mildly,” John said with a smile. “I’ve seen him about. I daresay his gaze could freeze a man’s bits.”
Catherine blushed as she hid her smile. “I’ve come to know your aunt, John. What were your parents like?”
“My parents were kind, I suppose. My father, Aunt Beatrice’s brother, was stern, but I was scarcely home to worry over that.”
“John and I knew each other at Cambridge,” Henry offered.
She looked at Henry in surprise. “Oh, then you can tell me about his behavior there!”
“He cannot,” John said. “I was a lad, Catherine. Concerned with only my own pleasures.”
She was correct, then. He was a reformed rake. “Then tell me of Henry’s.”
John’s eyes danced and he leaned close to her. “Henry was diligent in his studies and quite dull indeed.”
Henry shrugged off the backhanded compliment. “I do not deny it. Now, however, I find my interests lie in places other than books.”
They seemed to communicate something between them. Henry’s meaning couldn’t be clearer, as his gaze ran over her form. She wriggled on the bench, her body hot for his touch once again. She had but to close her eyes to recall the amazing pleasure he’d given her with his mouth. John looked at her as well, his hazel eyes dark.
“You know, Catherine,” John mused aloud. “For the first time in our acquaintance Henry and I are of like mind.”
He touched her hand, stroking slowly over her palm as Henry moved a bit closer. She was deliciously trapped between the two of them, and her traitorous body reveled in their closeness. She could smell them over the perfume of the tamed
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