Chapter 2

Years went by. I grew up thinking about the green-eyed young man often.

And then, it was time for my coming out. Aunt Eleanor offered to present me to London society. We were both excited. I was nineteen, more than ready.

Aunt Eleanor had special plans. Plans she didn't tell her brother's son up in Scotland. They had a long talk about the future and what would be expected. "You do know everyone back home intends a traditional marriage to one of your cousins. That would ensure the family line, the way the elders want. Andrew is their favorite."

Katharine laughed. "Andrew is as close to me as a brother. The idea of marrying him is silly."

Eleanor shook her head. "Just as I suspected. I was sure you felt that way. So, it's settled. While you are here, I will find someone more suitable for you."

Katharine blanched. "Your pardon? I thought my coming out was just to meet people. I'm not ready to marry anyone. And Uncle Steven is too ill to give me away if I married this year."

Eleanor set her plans into motion, anyway, and had her heart set on Mr. Phileas Fogg. His grandparents had been her friends. She had watched him grow up and talked him up constantly. "Phileas is being groomed to take over his father's place in the Queen's Service," she said. Sir Boniface and I have discussed it. "Phileas is a fine, promising young man, very handsome and charming, too. He is marked for great things, I'm sure of it. He will need a wife with good connections. It will be a fine match for both of you. Better than a cousin, I assure you."

Eleanor took Katharine to several events, but Phileas Fogg was never there.

"Oh, I do wish Boniface would get that boy in hand," Eleanor said. "How am I supposed to make this work if he doesn't keep up his side? We haven't seen him once."

"Oh, look, child," Eleanor said as they drove home from shopping. "It's Phileas, out there on the left. You see him, don't you?"

"I see him," Katharine said, catching a look at the man he had become. He was more mature looking. His hair was shot with strands of gray at the fringes under his hat. He was just as tall as she remembered, but she couldn't see his face. "Could we not offer him a ride?"

"No, no, wouldn't do," Eleanor said. "We will have to wait and hope my chill gets better." She sniffled into her handkerchief. "Terrible time to be getting a cold."

But Eleanor didn't get better. She developed a fever by nightfall and had to call on Penelope and her husband to chaperone Katharine's next ball.

At Eleanor's bedside, they gathered. She sneezed into her handkerchief and smiled, watery eyed at Penelope's blessing. "So good of you to come to my aid, dear. Sir Boniface has sent a message saying he and Phileas would be there."

Penelope took her aunt's hand. "I promise, I will see she meets Mr. Fogg. Just leave everything to me."

"You are such a dear," Eleanor said. "Her gown is already bought. It would be a true shame for her not to wear it; a regal thing, a Mary Stewart costume, fit for the queen herself."

"Sounds lovely. No, she must get some use of it," Penelope said.

By now, Katharine wanted to meet Mr. Fogg face to face so badly she would agree to any plot. Which was her cousin Penelope's specialty. What she had planned was both dramatic and simplicity itself. "We will use this masquerade ball to our advantage," Penelope said. "All we have to do is get you two together during dinner."

Her husband Richard was all for their plan and spoke to her reservations about Mr. Fogg's feelings about it. "Most men are not happy about being pursued by marriage happy matrons."

He grimaced, but then turned to his wife and took her hand. "All we will do is put you beside him at dinner. Don't tell him who you are, just make conversation. Eleanor is scaring him off with her and Sir Boniface's pushing. Can't blame him, but what we plan will be informal. He will meet you without Eleanor and his father breathing down his neck. If all goes well, I'll tell him later."

"Speak only French, so he won't guess who you are," Penelope said. "Don't give yourself away telling details, either. The mystery is what will bring him in."

They arrived early and Richard changed the place cards at dinner. They only named those attending by their costume personas. Katharine's named her Queen Mary Stewart. His used his own name, which meant he hadn't come in costume. For that, he would have been given a mask to wear at the door.

Katharine approached the dining table at nearly the same time as Phileas. He was taller than she remembered and unbearably handsome. Upon seeing her, he bowed, introduced himself, and asked her name.

"Mary Stewart," she said, giving him a coy smile.

"Come now, lady, surely you will tell me your proper name so we can converse." Phileas said.

Relenting only slightly and speaking in French, she said, "My Christian name is Mary, and for tonight at least, I am a member of the Scottish royal line."

He chuckled and handed her into her chair and seated himself. Phileas took on a thoughtful look and turned. "Queen Mary was not French. And you, I believe by your accent, are from the south of France?"

Katharine giggled. Her old governess and French teacher had been from southern France. "Queen Mary was also a French princess, monsieur. When she came back to her native Scotland, she brought a French court."

The rest of dinner progressed perfectly. The mystery of her identity seemed to gain far more mileage than any could have expected. He ignored the person to his left and monopolized her conversation.

At the end of dinner, Phileas escorted her to the ballroom and asked for the first dance.

Katharine loved dancing and was thrilled at how well he danced. Phileas smiled at her and flattered her. The room could have been empty of everyone but them. Whirling around the room in his arms made her feel giddy, happy the plan was working.

After the first dance, Phileas led her to a table and grabbed wine glasses from a waiter. There was no gentle conversation. Phileas questioned her about France, her home, and people she knew. It was relentless.

Katharine knew about Southern France from her governess, so could answer most of his questions. What she didn't know, she pretended disinterest in. From across the room, she caught sight of Penelope and Patricia looking on with triumph behind their masks.

"But enough about me…" Katharine said, turning the conversation to him.

He turned it back again.

"I would like another dance. Shall we?" Katharine said, standing. All this tongue fencing was too hard to keep up with.

Phileas reluctantly escorted her back to the dance floor. She kept him there for two dances straight. A terrible broach of social etiquette had she been unmasked. He indulged her, but insisted they take a walk in the courtyard for air after the second dance.

When the fresh air of the garden hit Katharine, she felt dizzy. It had been quite warm on the dance floor. She could not remember how much wine she had drunk while talking with him. At least three glasses with dinner, two more, maybe three…

No more wine. Can't make a mess of this getting tipsy.

There was a little maze off the courtyard leading into the garden. Phileas led Katharine to the far side. He offered her a seat on a bench.

Katharine paused. Something told her this wasn't proper. I should insist on going back inside. But… there are other people around. The twins were watching and the fresh air was helping her head clear, so she took a seat.

Phileas sat beside her and talked, mixing flattery on her dancing, her dress, and hair color… Pick a feature or virtue. He was practically babbling.

After a time, Katharine stopped paying attention. She smiled and nodded. His train of thought did not seem to require her input. She sat there, warm with wine and flattery, enjoying the sound of his voice.

She must have nodded at the wrong moment or smiled too readily at something. He gave her the most dazzling smile ever seen and kissed her.

It was a good kiss. She had been kissed a few times, but this kiss wasn't coming from kin, and it wasn't quick.

Phileas wrapped one arm around her waist, warming her against the chill. He put his other hand on the back of her head, holding her to him. That hand later moved to her ear… her jaw… her headdress.

He reached for her mask, lifted it a little.

Katharine pulled back, stood, and reset it in place.

"Monsieur! That is not allowed. The rules require one's identity to remain a mystery."

Phileas followed her up, capturing her hand. He might have gone after her mask again, but her sudden standing had brought attention to them. He whispered, "I am completely at your feet, my lady… captivated by you. Please do not leave without a way of contacting you again. I must know who you are."

Katharine stared up at him. How had that happened?

Is he playing with me?

He must be.

Someone in the distance called out, "Her Majesty, Mary Stewart!"

"I am here," Katharine called.

A footman walked around a statue toward them with a platter holding a note.

Katharine waved to him.

Phileas was forced to let her go.

It was Penelope's handwriting.

Come back. We need to leave.

Katharine couldn't have agreed more. She had fallen in over her head with this man and was drowning. Placing the note in her pocket and thanking the footman, she turned to Phileas and had said, "Monsieur, I am compelled to leave." She stepped closer and boldly touched his lips before he could say anything.

"Don't be disappointed. You know of me. We have met twice before and can meet again."

That got his attention.

"I'm not French I'm Scottish. All you must do is accept the invitation from our mutual friend."

"Who?"

"Good night, Monsieur," she said, and hurried back to the house with the footman.

As soon as she reached the main ballroom, Richard found her. "There you are. We were worried about you. Where did you disappear to?"

"The note said we needed to leave now. Please Richard, immediately would be perfect."

Seeing her urgency, Richard shrouded her in the cloak he carried and led her through the coach door and into a carriage where the twins waited.

Katharine sank into the cushions as the driver set the carriage in motion, relieved to be away.

"What happened?" Richard said, taking Katharine's hands in his, making her face him. "If the cad hurt you–"

"No. I am fine."

Richard and the twins weren't willing to leave it at that. They demanded to know where they had gone and what had happened.

"He took me out to the courtyard for air," Katharine said. "He wants to see me again."

That made them light up, but the twins were still concerned with her state. "I am just tired," Katharine said, "too much wine, perhaps. I never thought the masquerade would pique his interest so. Phileas spent the whole evening quizzing me. Keeping up the pretense was so hard."

That seemed to satisfy them. Richard spent the rest of the trip berating the twins on such a hair-brained idea, ignoring his own part in it.

Resolutely, keeping her eyes on the floorboards, Katharine's mind whirled as she remembered their dances and his face, and those beautiful green eyes… His kiss.

He wants to see me again. He really wants to see me again.

Oh, Phileas…