Midsummer's Knight. Tori Phillips

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СКАЧАТЬ through the open casement window, and a light breeze carried the scent of fresh-mown hay and hot mint into the room. Kat waved another letter in her hand.

      “More news, coz?” Miranda tried to keep the note of disappointment from her voice. She had been looking forward to enacting Kat’s bold masque, especially since she had the starring role. She prayed the letter’s contents wouldn’t scotch the plan. “Has...has the king changed his mind?”

      “Nay, no such luck as that!” Kat settled herself amid the plump woolen cushions on the window seat. She slit the wax seal with her fingernail. “’Tis from Fenton,”

      “Ah, I should have guessed.” Probably another plea for more money, Miranda thought as Kat unfolded the thick paper. “What does he say now?” She paused, then changed her voice to mimic Fenton’s whine. “‘Dearest Aunt Katherine, how I miss you, and I pray daily for your continued good health!”’

      Kat smiled over the top of the paper. “His opening words are something like that. Go on, soothsayer. Tell me what else does my loving nephew write?”

      Miranda threaded her needle with buttercup yellow silk. “Let me think. Ah! ‘The court is ever busy here, and all turn upon the king’s fancy. We are to enact a new masque, and the costumes are quite elaborate. I am to take the part of...”’ Miranda considered a moment as she knotted one end of the floss, then she continued, “‘Of Apollo, a high honor indeed. But, dearest Aunt, the costume requires a great deal of golden thread and cloth-of-gold material. Alas, I fear my allowance, generous as it .is from you, cannot cover this unforeseen expenditure...’ And so on, and so on. How much does the little beggar want now?”

      Kat shook her head. “Not this time!”

      Miranda rolled her eyes. “May the clouds rain cats and dogs!”

      Kat frowned as she perused the letter. “He writes of my marriage, and wishes me joy in it.”

      “Ha! There is something else between the lines. I can feel it.”

      Kat arched one eyebrow at her cousin. “Only too true, I fear. He then goes on to say that he knows Sir Brandon Cavendish well.”

      “I do not like the sound of that!” Miranda jabbed her needle into the collar of the night shift she worked upon.

      “Sweet Saint Anne!” Kat erupted. “Oh, Miranda, I must be the most unfortunate of women on this green earth!”

      Miranda put down her sewing and regarded Kat more intently. “How now?”

      Kat rattled the offending paper. “Fenton warns me that this Cavendish toad is far too young for me. ‘Barely dry behind his ears,’ he says. This...boy has only just won his spurs, and he is much given to...God shield me!”

      “What?”

      Kat read, “‘Cavendish is a ruffian who will swear, drink, dance and revel the night away. He commits the oldest sins in the newest fashion. In short, dear Aunt, Sir Brandon is as lecherous as a monkey. He will top anything in skirts between the ages of seven and seventy.”’ Balling up the paper, she hurled it toward the fireplace. “Alack! I am undone by the king’s whimsy. First, I nursed an old man on death’s door, and then tried to tame a devil, and now I am offered to a half-grown rooster to school! ’Tis enough to make me consider taking the veil!”

      Miranda watched Kat pace the newly waxed floorboards for a few minutes, then she quietly asked, “Do you believe Fenton?”

      Kat stopped in midstride. “Not as far as I can throw him. We both know from experience that Fenton says and does nothing that is not to his own advantage. ’Tis not my happiness he is concerned for, but my purse strings. With me married to a husband, no matter how young, Fenton will experience more of a money problem than he already has. And if, perchance, this...whoring, lusting fledgling manages to get me with child, Fenton will stand to lose a great deal more—in fact, my whole estate.” Kat stroked her chin with her forefinger.

      Miranda sighed. “A babe would be sweet to have in the house. Do you think it is possible?”

      “How do I know?” Kat snapped. “My first husband was too ill to breach me, and my second...” She shuddered at the thought. “Let us not dwell upon the second at all. A babe.” She considered the idea. “Hmm. I fear I am past my ripe years. A babe would be a gift from God that I would bear willingly even if I had to raise its father alongside of it.”

      “Do we still go forward with our plan?” Miranda asked. She sent a silent prayer to heaven. ’Twould be such fun to be wooed, even if the bridegroom was just a few years out of leading strings. A lusty youth! Perhaps he still had all his teeth, unlike Kat’s first two husbands.

      Kat smiled grimly. “Of course we will.”

      “Do you truly think it will work?”

      Taking Miranda by the hand, Kat led her to the gold-framed glass near the bed. “Look you, dearest coz. We are as much alike as sisters, which is not surprising considering that our dear mothers were exactly that. Even though you are a few years younger than I, we are of like stature, of like figure—though, I do confess with envy that your waist is an inch or two narrower. Our hair is the same shade of auburn, our eyes the same green.” Kat turned Miranda toward her and cradled her face between her hands. “Best of all, no one at court, other than Fenton, has ever seen Lady Katherine Fitzhugh. No one will know that we have exchanged places.”

      “I will know,” announced a dirgelike masculine voice from the doorway. “And I like it not.”

      Kat laughed, this time with a happier note. “Ah, Montjoy! You never like anything at all, but only delight in pointing out the dark side.”

      Montjoy sniffed as if his nose ran with a cold. “What you propose is a lie, my lady.” Wagging his forefinger like a schoolmaster, the castle steward shuffled into the room. He regarded both women with a doleful mien. “Mark my words, Lady Katherine, a relationship begun with deceit will end in misery.” He dragged out the last word in three long syllables.

      Laughing all the more, Kat draped herself around the old man’s shoulders. “Montjoy, my good conscience, what would we ever do without your joyful presence to gladden our days?”

      Montjoy took out a large stained handkerchief, and blew his nose loudly before answering. “You’d be gone to the devil, my lady, and there is the beginning and end of it.” He sighed deeply.

      “How now, Montjoy,” Miranda said, taking his hand in hers. “Have you told everyone in the household of Kat’s plan? Will they all play this game with us?”

      Blowing his nose even louder, Montjoy managed to look sadder than before. “Aye, mistress, I have told them, much against my will. Even down to the potboys and stable lads. Scamps, every last one of them! They love you too much, my lady. They have all agreed to this...this folly of yours. When the king’s man comes to court you, we are all to call Mistress Miranda by Lady Katherine’s name, and Lady Katherine will become Mistress Miranda. What will the poor man do when he learns the truth? How long do you intend to keep him hoodwinked? ‘Tis against nature. I am sure ’tis a sin.”

      Kat tickled him behind his ear. “No doubt, Montjoy, so storm heaven with your prayers for us. In the meantime, we shall make merry sport with this youthful bridegroom of mine. Only for a day or two, until I can spy out his true nature. He will not put on a false front with the poor cousin of Lady Katherine.”

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