Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 43

Katherine passed a night of restless wakefulness interspersed with dream-racked snatches of sleep. She kept trying to push away the memories of Nick’s caressing hands and demanding lips, but whenever she tried her strangely aching body recalled her to the recollection of every touch, every frisson. Their furious exchange of words at the end she simply refused to recall.

In an effort to distract herself, she attempted to rehearse how she should greet his father and brother the next morning. What should she wear? What would Mr Lydgate senior expect of his unexpected new daughter-in-law? And when would Nick reveal the true state of their marriage and the news that his sham wife had saddled him with a vast debt?

Unfortunately the image she conjured up of her father-in-law closely resembled Nick in forty years’ time and in the throes of an icy rage. This was not comforting, and the knowledge that her in-laws would be utterly justified in being appalled and angry on discovering her existence did nothing to help.

Tossing and turning uncomfortably in an effort not to disturb Jenny’s untroubled slumbers, Katherine tried to plan for what she should do once she had obtained her annulment. Somehow she would have to earn her own living.

Gloomily she reviewed her talents. She was an adequate, but not exceptional, needlewoman. Setting up in a millinery or dressmaking business was not therefore to be thought of. She had an excellent grasp of languages, but no talent with any musical instrument so becoming a governess was beyond her reach. Her earlier confident assertion to Jenny that she could earn her living teaching French and Italian now seemed hopelessly over-confident. Housekeeper or companion appeared to be the only options for a living wage, however modest.

Neither was likely to pay so much that she could hope to discharge her debt. All she would be able to do was salve her conscience by sending what little she was able to save each year to the moneylenders under her own name, but concealing her whereabouts. Goodness knows what the effect of the interest would be upon the total. I am going to go to my grave in debt, she thought despairingly, struggling not to think harshly of Philip, heedlessly pursuing his own pleasures somewhere on the Continent.

When the clock downstairs struck three the treacherous voice of temptation began to whisper in her ear. Let him make love to you, it murmured insidiously. You love him, you want him. He knows what the consequences are, he will pay your debt and you will never have to worry again.

Katherine lay still, wrestling with herself until her conscience won. No, she could not do it, not and live with herself afterwards. And at last she dropped off to sleep.

The next morning they breakfasted in their rooms and Nick went down with John to pay their shot. The effusiveness of Paul Carson, the landlord, made him feel uncomfortable, as though he was back under false pretences, as indeed an inner voice told him he was. Banished, he had sworn never to come back; now he wrestled with the uncomfortable thought that he was using Kat as an excuse to do the right thing and return.

That was considerably less uncomfortable to his peace of mind than the memory of last night and the recollection of the vivid anger and betrayal on Kat’s face as they had stood, eye to eye, on the inn stairs. How had he misjudged her so badly? He was not inexperienced with women, he thought ruefully as he strolled out into the yard to see if John needed any help hitching up the team. With Kat it seemed that every instinct was awry.

Without a word spoken he took the head of the wheeler and backed it into the shafts while his mind raced. She had seemed yielding, aware of him. In his arms she had responded with an innocent passion that turned his bones to water even as it fired his blood. But she was having none of him, it seemed, however dire her circumstances.

With a shake of his head he cinched the girth and turned to see what else needed doing. But he was too near home now for physical effort to distract him from his circling thoughts.

And what would his father say to Kat? One word of disparagement and he would turn on his heel and leave, he resolved grimly. She might be determined to free herself from him, but his honour and his instincts would fight her every step of the way. Never mind that he had married her expecting to be dead days ago; now she was his first concern over family and all other duties.

‘That’s all right and tight,’ John said, twisting the reins around the brake. He regarded Nick with an uncomfortably intelligent eye. ‘And where do we go now? Sir.’ The last word was an afterthought, not a disrespectful one, but a clear indication that John had still not made up his mind about the man Jenny was happy to refer to as ‘the master'.

Nick leaned against the nearside shaft and began to explain the route that was as familiar to him as the back of his own hand. John’s eyes became round, then narrowed and then finally round again. He asked one question, which Nick answered with a curt nod. There was a moment’s silence, then John remarked laconically, ‘Miss Katherine will have something to say about that when she realises.’

‘Indeed.’ Nick thought she would have rather more than ‘something’ to say, but he preferred that it was not said in the inn courtyard. Not that she was likely to be saying anything at all to him after the way they had parted last night. On that thought Kat appeared, Jenny at her heels.

Nick conjured up all the sang-froid at his disposal and opened the carriage door. She was wearing what must be her best day dress, he realised. Her bonnet was smart whilst being restrained and her hair was rigorously constrained beneath it. All in all, the perfect new daughter-in-law. His heart ached at the effort she was making.

Katherine nodded in the general direction of Nick as she climbed into the coach. She found she could not meet his eye and neither could she find any word of greeting. It was as though a pane of glass had descended between them and all they could do was gesture at each other through it.

The glass shattered as he entered the carriage on Jenny’s heels. Katherine stared at him, aghast. She had not expected this, none of her defences were in place to deal with him.

‘Good morning,’ he said pleasantly, settling back opposite the two young women. ‘I hope you slept well.’ The query was directed straight at Jenny, who smiled unaffectedly and nodded.

‘Oh, yes, sir. Good feather beds they have here, sir.’

‘I passed an indifferent night,’ Katherine remarked and was surprised at the fire in the dark eyes as they focused on her.

‘Indeed? So did I. Perhaps our unrest had a similar cause.’

She had hoped to discommode him; now he had thrown the challenge straight back to her. ‘I have no doubt it did,’ Katherine agreed warmly, aware that her temper was showing in her eyes, but uncaring of the fact.

‘To what do you attribute it?’

Damn him. And damn him for making her use bad language, even in her thoughts. She smiled sweetly. ‘I am nervous of meeting my new family, and I am sure you feel some apprehension after all these years, Nicholas.’

Her husband made no attempt to reassure her about his family and her heart sank. This was going to be every bit as difficult as she feared. They both fell silent. To Katherine, completely at a loss as to how to pierce his armour, it seemed that Nick simply retreated into his own self-contained world. What he was facing could not be easy, yet he was not going to let her glimpse the slightest sign of inner turmoil.

Pride, she thought resentfully, then wondered. Was last night’s outburst of passion some glimpse into an inner turmoil?

She had hardly formulated the thought when Jenny remarked, ‘What a long wall.’

Katherine leaned forward to look out of the window. On the nearside of the carriage stretched a high freestone wall, neatly mortared, regularly buttressed and apparently endless. After ten minutes, when there was no break in it, she remarked, ‘The park of a great estate, one assumes.’

‘Yes, the Duke of Marlowe’s.’

‘A family with which you are acquainted?’ That might give her some clue as to his family’s local standing.

There was a pause, then Nick replied evenly, ‘I was close to the younger son at one time.’

They drove for perhaps another two miles in silence. Katherine found the monotony of the uniform wall cast an almost hypnotic spell over her and she could do little other than gaze at it. Then the carriage slowed. Glancing at him, she saw the sudden alertness in Nick, the way his eyes darkened. Expecting John to turn left, away from the wall, Katherine was taken by surprise as the carriage made a right turn and passed between high gateposts.

Off balance, she swayed against the movement of the carriage and was thrown forward. Nick caught her forearms and settled her back on the seat. The incident was over in a moment, but it was enough for her to miss whatever John called down to the gatekeeper as the great gates swung open and the carriage was all at once bowling through parkland.

A herd of fallow deer browsed under the spreading branches of a coppice of sweet chestnuts. They raised their heads to regard the passing carriage with great soft, incurious eyes and bent to the short grass again.

‘Miss Katherine—’ Jenny began, then stopped abruptly as Katherine’s hand closed tight on her wrist. She met her mistress’s wide eyes and read the unmistakable message of silence on them. As one the young women turned and stared at Nicholas Lydgate.

He was not watching them. Instead, his face unreadable, he was gazing out of the carriage window as the acres of parkland unrolled before them. His eyes were wide, dark and bright with unshed tears.

Katherine caught her breath, yearning to lean forward and touch him, terrified of disturbing his fragile control. This … this great estate must be home.

She found her mind was prey to theories and questions tumbling one after another. What were they doing apparently driving up to the mansion of the Duke of—what did Nick say? Marlowe? Was his father the steward to the Duke? Or perhaps as he was the greatest landowner Nick felt it incumbent on him to call upon the Duke first? No, surely not … The questions trembled on her tongue, but the look in Nick’s shadowed eyes warned her to keep silent. Inside the cold knot of apprehension grew and burgeoned.

Then the house appeared, reflected in its lake like a mirage, and all the questions disappeared. ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ Katherine was not aware of speaking aloud.

‘I have always thought that from this view across the lake it seems more like a dream than a real building.’ Nick cleared his throat and spoke dispassionately, only his right hand balled into a fist on the ledge of the window betrayed emotions he would not display. Katherine glanced at his face—his eyes were dry again.

Cold greyish-white stone, turrets and towers, a shifting pattern of roofs as the carriage moved—it was like a fairytale castle at one moment, a palace the next.

‘It is vast.’ Katherine heard the shake in her own voice and stiffened her spine. It seemed that this was their destination and that Nick must be some connection with the family who inhabited this awe-inspiring dwelling. Not a younger son, that she knew. She turned to him, suddenly agitated out of her usual calm self-control at the answer that was forcing itself into her mind. ‘Nick, why are we here?’

‘Because this is where I live,’ he said simply as the carriage drew to a halt at the foot of a great double sweep of steps. They rose gracefully to a balustraded platform in front of the doors.

Nick got up and threw open the door before John could climb down. Katherine found herself handed out, a gaping Jenny at her heels. ‘Follow the drive round to the side, you will see the stable block,’ he called up to John, then took Katherine’s arm and began to climb the right-hand branch of the steps.

Stunned into silence, she let herself be guided. The hand under her elbow was steady and, glancing up, she saw his face was calm, severe and quite unreadable. With a sudden flash of insight she realised this was the face he would have shown to the mob at the hanging. They arrived on the wide flagged platform and, as if at a signal, the doors swung open.

Katherine did not know quite what to expect. This seemed to be a dream so fantastical that if the great Chan of China or the Prince Regent had emerged she would not have been surprised. The reality was more prosaic. Firstly a liveried footman and then, stepping primly in his wake, a thin, elderly man in dark clothing, unmistakably the butler.

‘Good day sir, madam, I regret that his Grace is not—’ He broke off and stared. ‘Mr Nicholas! My lord!’ His face turned white. For a moment Katherine thought he would faint, then Nick had him by the shoulders and the colour ebbed back as he slowly shook his head in wonderment. ‘Heavens be praised, my lord, we thought you must be dead for sure. Six years …’ His voice shook.

‘Heron, if you break down, it will quite unman me,’ Nick said roughly. Katherine could hear the affection in his voice and recognise the shake of emotion he was trying so hard to suppress. ‘I was relying upon you to maintain a little decorum and restraint at the return of the prodigal son. Now, do not let me down.’

‘No, my lord, of course not. It is merely a little breezy out here, it must be making my eyes water.’ He rubbed hastily at his eyes and was once more the impassive butler. ‘We must not detain the lady out here, my lord, if I may say so.’

They passed into the hall, the footman closed the doors behind them and Katherine found herself gaping like a tourist at an exhibition. The ceiling was high above them, the room a double cube of white marble, watered blue silk walls and massive paintings. A tall man was coming down the stairs. He stopped at the sight of the new arrivals, then, with a cry of ‘Nick!', flung himself down the remaining flight.

There was no mistaking who he was. Younger than his brother by perhaps five years, brown haired where Nick verged on the raven, lanky where his equally tall brother was hard with muscle, he was still unmistakably the brother Nick had spoken of with such affection.

‘Robert!’ Katherine drew back as the two men embraced, a torrent of questions and half-completed sentences tumbling from Robert’s lips.

‘I beg your pardon, madam.’ It was the butler. Hernshaw? No, Heron, that was it. ‘I am afraid their lordships will be somewhat preoccupied for a few minutes. Have you luggage, madam? This will be your abigail, I assume?’

She pulled herself together. Few things in any house of rank were as important as to make a good impression on the upper servants and she was not going to let Nick down, however much she trembled inwardly at the shocking surprise he had sprung upon her.

‘Thank you, Heron. Yes, this is Pilgrim. My man has taken the carriage with the luggage round to the stables.’ She drew a deep breath, then said with a pleasant smile, ‘I collect that my husband’s message did not arrive to warn of our coming?’

The poor man had received more shocks that morning than were fair to inflict upon an elderly family retainer and she admired the manner in which he kept all traces of his reaction from his face. Only his eyes widened perceptibly. ‘My lady. Welcome to Seaton Mandeville. I deeply regret that we could not assemble the full staff as is only fitting to receive the new marchioness.’

There, he had said it, the thing that she had been refusing to think ever since the dreadful certainty of who Nick was had come to her on the steps. She was, it seemed, a Marchioness. A temporary Marchioness. Somehow she must keep this bizarre conversation going until Nick was able to rescue her. ‘Under the circumstances that is quite understandable. I shall look forward to meeting them all later.’ Could the butler see the terror in her eyes? How many staff could this palace possibly require? Hundreds, she supposed. Around them other staff were gathering, ostensibly to assist the new arrivals, but quite obviously agog at the unexpected return of the heir of the house.

Mercifully Nick was turning, his arm still across his brother’s shoulders. ‘Robert, I have the honour to present you to my wife. Katherine, my brother, Lord Robert Lydgate.’

She kept her eyes from Nick’s face, knowing it was unlikely she could hide the mingled reproach and fear in them. Instead she dropped a neat curtsy to his brother. ‘My lord. I have heard so much about you from Nicholas.’

‘Robert, please, and I hope I may call you Katherine.’ He strode forward, suddenly so like Nicholas that her breath caught in her throat. ‘And I trust I may kiss my new sister.’

The kiss was a firm but chaste pressure on either cheek and Katherine found herself smiling up at him gratefully as he held her at arm’s length to study her. In the same way as Nick had made her feel safe in Newgate, this young man, so like him, was making her feel less unsure in this equally frightening new environment. ‘Nick always had the best of good taste. Welcome to our home. I hope—’

The voice that cut across Robert’s was calm, beautifully modulated and reduced the small crowd to immediate silence.

‘Heron, it appears that I have received visitors of whom I was unaware. How could that be, I wonder?’

‘Your Grace, I was just coming to announce them.’ Katherine saw the stain of colour on the butler’s cheeks and turned to regard the newcomer from under level brows. It did not take Heron’s words to tell her who was standing in the open doorway regarding the scene, a book in one hand. She had imagined her new father-in-law as Nick in forty years’ time and had not been mistaken. But this was not the patriarchal farmer she had imagined.

Nick himself had gone quite still, except to reach out a hand and take hers. She squeezed his fingers briefly and drew her hand away; she needed all her wits for this encounter and the touch of Nick’s warmth was more a distraction than anything.

Robert appeared immune to the prevailing atmosphere. ‘It is not visitors, Father, it is Nick, safe and sound at last.’

Around them servants were melting away, leaving only Heron and Jenny standing behind Katherine.

‘We will retire to the library. Heron, some refreshments, if you please.’ The Duke turned on his heel and re-entered the room behind him, leaving Katherine with an impression of immaculate and fashionable tailoring and an air of precise elegance.

‘Kat,’ Nick began, ‘I will explain later …’

Katherine regarded him levelly. ‘You certainly will,’ she said with feeling, then put up her chin and concentrated on making her entrance through the door, which Robert was holding for her, with as much poise as she could conjure up.

She found herself standing directly in front of the Duke, who regarded her with no sign of emotion. ‘Good day, madam. You are welcome. No doubt one of my sons will have the grace to introduce you presently.’

‘Sir, I have the honour to present to you my wife, Katherine.’ Nick addressed his father for the first time and, to her lasting admiration, managed to sound both unapologetic and perfectly polite.

‘Your Grace.’ Katherine dropped her very best curtsy and rose to meet the older man’s eyes calmly. It appeared that she had met with some approval, for he bowed slightly in acknowledgment and stepped forward to take her hand. To her amazement he kissed her cheek, a chilly touch to be sure, but still more than she had expected.

‘Then I must welcome you both to the family and to this house,’ he said gravely. ‘Am I to thank you for my son’s return?’

‘Thank you, your Grace. I understand that Nicholas was already planning to return before we met.’ She should say something about the status of their marriage, she knew it, but a cowardly reluctance dragged at her tongue.

‘Please, sit, Katherine. Have you had a long journey?’

‘Your Grace, you are most kind.’ No, she could not sit, could not be accepted by this terrifying old man under false pretences. ‘But I must tell you that you should not be welcoming me to your family.’ Beside her she heard a sharp hiss of indrawn breath from Nick and hurried on. ‘I married your son because he was gallant enough to do so to save me from very difficult circumstances. We intend to seek an annulment at the earliest opportunity.’

‘Indeed?’ The dark brows, so in contrast to the steel grey hair, rose in exquisitely controlled surprise. ‘Am I to understand that my son is unable to perform his marital duties?’