Blackmoore(9)

I leaned against its familiar, mottled bark and sighed deeply. My temper was in check, but resentment and grief still burned within me.

Henry joined me, leaning against the tree as well. I held my arrows in my hand, studying their feathers and wishing, not for the first time, that I could fly away from this place. I felt Henry’s gaze on my face.

“What is really bothering you, Kate?” he asked in a quiet voice. “This problem with your mother is nothing new. What has happened today to upset you?”

I ran the feathers of the arrows between my fingers, fighting back another round of angry tears. I drew in a deep breath, struggling for some control over my emotions.

“She has said I may not go to Blackmoore,” I finally said.

“What?” Disbelief mingled with anger. “Why not?”

I tipped my head back and covered my eyes with my hand, hiding the fight against my tears. “She is angry with me for refusing Mr. Cooper’s proposal.”

“Mr. Cooper?” Henry’s voice was appalled. “The man is diseased!”

I laughed a little, a tear leaking out of one eye. “I know!” My stomach turned as I recalled his most recent visit. “The last time I saw him, his ear was bandaged. Why is it always a different part of his body that is bandaged?”

“I cannot answer that,” Henry said in a serious voice. I looked at 24



him, and there was such a look of revulsion on his face that I burst out laughing.

“The bandage was stained, too,” I said, wheezing with laughter. “A greenish color.”

Henry shook his head. “Stop. Say no more.”

I was laughing so hard that tears ran down my cheeks. But they re-minded me of what I really had to cry about, and the thought sobered me.

“It is entirely unfair,” I said, “that when we have finally convinced your mother to let me visit, my mother has put a stop to it.”

Something flashed in his eyes—something that made him look away for a moment. “How right you are.” He sighed. “So . . . I take it this means that your mother has not yet accepted how fundamentally stubborn you are. She thinks she can still convince you to marry? Turn you into a proper, obedient daughter, hm? Will she be rearranging the order of the universe while she’s at it?”

I smiled sadly. “Something like that.”

“You know, you never have explained to me your decision never to marry.”

I shook my head. No matter how many times he had asked me about that in the past year and a half, I refused to give an answer. “Not today, Henry. We have more important battles to fight.” I looked over at him, meeting his gaze with my own. “I must go to Blackmoore. I must, ” I whispered. “I think I will resent her for the rest of my life if she keeps me here.”

He nodded, his grey eyes serious, as if he understood perfectly the gravity of the situation. If anyone did understand, it was he. He had made me that model, after all. I wiped away another tear, and that time I was sure Henry saw.

Henry nudged me with his elbow. “Come, now. There is no need to despair. We are two very intelligent people capable of outsmarting one mother, I think.” He stepped away from the tree and began pacing.

“What does your mother want, more than anything?”

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J u l i a n n e D o n a l D s o n “For me to marry,” I answered immediately.

“Yet you are determined not to.”

“Precisely.”

“Hm.” More pacing. Then he paused and turned to me. “Can you not pretend to want to marry? Tell her there will be many eligible gentlemen at Blackmoore, and you may make a match there.”

I shot him a look of disbelief. “No. There is no point in winning the battle if it means jeopardizing the war.” I tapped my arrows against the tree, willing myself to think of a solution. “But what else does she want in life?” I thought hard for a long moment, then shrugged. “Nothing. This is all my mother lives for—marrying off her daughters.” And flirting with as many men as she can, I added silently.

Henry looked at me sharply. “Her daughters,” he said slowly. “Plural.”

“Yes. There are four of us. Three if you don’t count Eleanor.”

He smiled. “Maria.”

I looked a question at him.

“Tell her that Maria may come as well and that she will have a chance to make a match at Blackmoore.”

I considered his suggestion dubiously. “What will be her incentive, though?”

“To be rid of Maria. To give Maria a chance to make a match.” He paused, and a wicked gleam lit up his eyes. “To enrage my mother.”

I smiled crookedly. My mother and Mrs. Delafield had been polite enemies for the past four years, even though we continued to associate as families. I wondered if Henry knew the reason behind their dislike of each other. I had never broached the subject with him since I had found out what had caused their rift. And I certainly was not going to be the one to tell him.

“It could work,” he insisted.

“I don’t know if I can convince her,” I said. “She seems so intent on punishing me . . .”

“And having Maria along is not a punishment?”

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I laughed. “You are right. It is.” I chewed on my lip while thinking of Henry’s plan and had to admit to myself that I had no better plan to try. “Will your mother object, do you think? Or Sylvia?” Sylvia and Mrs.