The Christmas Kittens by Lynn Collum Page A

blue eyes. In a breathless voice she said, “Thank goodness someone has come. I thought no one had heard my cries for help.”
    “You were being attacked in my library?” The marquess' voice sounded bored and his face was a mask of indifference.
    Dorinda giggled, shaking her head to make her raven locks bounce. “No, my lord, I was coming to Whiteoaks to thank Binx for helping me yesterday. But some large animal, I did not see what, came from the jumble of weeds in the garden and tried to attack me as I walked up the drive. I rushed for the house and came straight in, for I knew I needn't stand on ceremony with my old friend Rachel's family.”
    His grey eyes were like two bits of stone as they raked her. “You were old friends with my late wife?”
    “Oh my, yes. I am Miss Dorinda Westerly. My father is Baron Westerly of Westwood Park, the estate next door. Why, Rachel would often come to take me for walks and read me stories, for as you know, she was much older than I.” Dorinda had barely seen Rachel Whitehead above two times in her childhood, but she was certain his lordship wouldn't know that since he and his wife had never visited the estate during their marriage.
    Lord Marsden allowed his gaze to drop to the bailiff's contract rolled in his hand. If there was one thing he was certain about, it was that his deceased wife didn't have a maternal bone in her lovely body. She'd surrendered Rosalind to a wet nurse after her birth, and barely saw the child after that, being far more interested in her friends and fashions. Glancing back at the young woman before the fireplace, he took in the torn sleeve, confirming his worst suspicions. She was plotting something, but he would not be such easy prey.
    He called over his shoulder to the footman he'd just passed as he entered, “Toby, I believe we shall need Mrs. Shelby at once.”
    Unfortunately, a knock sounded at the door forestalling the servant from going for the housekeeper. With a feeling of dread, the marquess partially turned and watched Toby open the door. Somehow he knew this visitor meant trouble. It was as if those gods he'd spoken of to Miss Lockhart were punishing him for relaxing his guard over the past few days.
    To his surprise, Miss Westerly threw herself at him, pressing close with her hands clutching his arms in a near death grip. “My lord, we must not be found alone like this.”
    The marquess set her from him. Then he looked up to see a large older woman in a voluminous purple cape with white fur collar push her way past his footman.
    “I have come to see Lord Marsden.” The lady, having barely uttered the words, spied the marquess standing in the doorway and without so much as a by your leave, advanced on him. “There you are, my lord. I have come with an invitation--”
    She abruptly halted upon seeing the gentleman was not alone. Her gaze swept the visitor, then a martial glint settled in her brown eyes. She advanced on the couple. “What is the meaning of this, my lord? Why is my daughter here with you alone?”
    The marquess's face grew bleak as the looming marital noose tightened around his neck.
    All three of the participants in the little melodrama started when a voice behind them disputed Lady Westerly's claim. “Hardly alone, Aunt Flora, for Anthea and I have been at Whiteoaks all morning.”
    Karis's knees were shaking when she'd stepped from behind the curtain. She knew she'd pay a heavy price later, but she couldn't stand by and allow her cousin to do such a despicable thing to Lord Marsden. Whatever happened, it would be worth it for the look of thanks reflected in the marquess's eyes as he smiled at her over her cousin's head.
    Dorinda's hands drew into tight fist as she stared at her cousin through narrowed lids. Where the devil had the cunning little baggage come from? Karis Lockhart had been nothing but an annoyance for the past year but today she'd ruined everything, Dorinda thought bitterly.
    Lady Westerly, an innocent in