Читать книгу Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1 - Louise Allen, Christine Merrill - Страница 51

Lady Fanny Craven proved to be a vague, amiable person who accepted everything her awe-inspiring relative told her as gospel. The fact that she had been summoned to act as chaperon to a young lady who was married to Cousin Nicholas while pretending to be still single and was yet living with him at the Dower House did not appear to disconcert her in the slightest.

‘You must think this all very irregular,’ Katherine ventured shortly after Lady Fanny’s arrival. The entire household was gathered in the Chinese Salon to take tea.

‘Irregular?’ Lady Fanny was blonde, wispy and perhaps forty years of age. Her single status could be explained by the fact that she had, she explained, been a Support to Poor Dear Mama for many years. That lady having now passed away, she found herself only too happy to assist Cousin Lionel, as she somewhat nervously termed the Duke, whenever he called upon her. ‘This seems to be a perfectly usual time to take tea. Have I missed some irregularity?’

‘No, not the tea, Lady Fanny,’ Katherine explained, fighting the urge to wave frantically at Nick for rescue. ‘The fact that you are chaperoning me under these circumstances.’

‘They may be a trifle unusual,’ Lady Fanny murmured, nibbling like a voracious vole at her third macaroon, ‘but if Cousin Lionel approves, then it must be perfectly correct. Cousin Lionel is always right.’

Just like his elder son, Katherine brooded, watching the two Lydgates lounging elegantly one each side of the fireplace. Nicholas was engaged in persuading his father that he should replace his main carriage with one possessing the latest in patent springs, the Duke in arguing that what he had was perfectly adequate. They seemed, despite the fact that they were disagreeing with each other, far more in harmony than they had at any time since Nick’s return home. Was the old man thawing, and was his son letting his hackles down at last?

‘Would you care for the last macaroon, Lady Seaton?’ Katherine blinked and recalled herself.

‘No, thank you, please do have it, Lady Fanny.’ Where did she put all that food? She was as thin as a rake. ‘And please call me Katherine; no one but the family knows of the marriage, remember, and it would not do to let it slip during the ball.’

‘Oh, my goodness, what a shatterbrained thing that would be, to be sure,’ Lady Fanny tittered. ‘Dear Cousin Nicholas would be annoyed with me. And he has moved to the Dower House, I understand? I wonder how he can live there instead of in all this splendour.’ She gazed myopically at the exotic wallpaper and the Aubusson rugs and sighed wistfully.

‘This is very splendid, I quite agree,’ Katherine said, wondering compassionately exactly where Lady Fanny lodged since her mother’s death, ‘But I must confess to having fallen in love with the Dower House; it is quite charming and I never get lost, which I do all the time here.’

‘And you too are living there now?’

‘Yes, just for a while, since yesterday. I am helping Nicholas with some renovations he is planning, that is all.’ Was her new chaperon going to comment on this highly peculiar arrangement? It appeared not. Katherine just hoped that she was not going to think it her duty to move into the Dower House too.

To her relief, for she had to confess that she was finding conversation with Lady Fanny somewhat hard going, Nick came over to join them. ‘Have you persuaded the Duke to buy a new carriage?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I shall just have to buy one myself and lend it to him so he is convinced. I will order it next time I am in Newcastle. What colour would you prefer for the upholstery? Burgundy, dark blue?’

‘Forest green, I think,’ Katherine said, then caught herself. What was she thinking of? ‘But naturally, you must choose, I do not know what would be best for a gentleman’s carriage. Will you place the order when we go into Newcastle for the first fittings for our new clothes?’

‘No need. Madame LeBlanc and my tailor will come out here for the fittings, the day after tomorrow. My bootmaker will send my shoes; he still has my lasts, so fitting is no problem.’

‘They will come here?’ Katherine queried. This was life as she was totally unused to living it, that was obvious.

‘But of course, Katherine dear.’ Lady Fanny looked astonished. ‘This is the Duke’s household, no local tradesperson would dream of doing anything else.’

‘Would you excuse us for one moment, Cousin Fanny?’ Nicholas took Katherine’s hand and led her to a quiet corner of the room. ‘Is she driving you demented?’ he asked sympathetically.

‘Certainly not, what an improper thing to say,’ Katherine said reprovingly. ‘She is perhaps a little difficult to make conversation with …’

‘She is an amiable peahen,’ Lady Fanny’s unsympathetic relative commented, ‘but she will serve the purpose.’

‘Are you still annoyed at the Duke’s decision to hold the ball?’

Nick regarded her thoughtfully. ‘No, I have come to the conclusion that it was an admirable idea.’ Now why did she suspect him of a hidden meaning behind that gracious acknowledgment? ‘And it has inspired me to suggest that we hold a dinner party at the Dower House.’

‘Us? A dinner party? At the Dower House?’

‘Kat, I have to tell you, you sound every bit as bird-witted as Cousin Fanny. Yes, us, a dinner party. Just for the household here.’

‘When? Why?’ If she was still sounding bird-witted she could not help it.

‘Three days after the ball, I thought. And why? Because I have a desire to entertain in my own home.’

‘Would it not be better after I have gone? I can hardly act the hostess …’

‘Why not? Or do you think I should ask Cousin Fanny to take that role?’ He hesitated. ‘Please, Kat, it would give me so much pleasure.’

Nick had never asked her for anything in that way before and it made her feel guilty. She had put him in a position where his homecoming was overshadowed by his sham marriage; surely the least she could do was to agree to a dinner party where all the guests were known to her.

‘Yes, of course, if you would like it. We had better stop talking apart, and I must rescue poor Mr Rossington, who appears to be receiving an account of the set of church kneelers Lady Fanny is producing.’

‘No harm in that,’ Nick said heartlessly. ‘He is, after all, supposed to excel in Christian charity. Ouch!’ he added indignantly as his wife gave him a sharp jab in the ribs with a forefinger and went to the chaplain’s assistance.

As she joined the discussion on the minute details of the kneelers, Katherine looked back and caught his eye. ‘I am sorry,’ she mouthed.

‘I forgive you,’ he mouthed back with such a gentle smile that her heart contracted sharply. Constant contact with him was such a torment, such a deliciously anguished reminder of just how much she liked her husband, how much she loved him, how much she was coming to desire him. She tried to work out how many days were left before the month was up, before he would permit her to begin the annulment process, and realised she had lost track of time. This would not do, she must pull herself together, stop playing at being Lady Seaton and make her plans before her feelings for Nick seduced her into abandoning all principle.

‘And all edged with laurel leaves in gold, how lovely,’ she said serenely to Lady Fanny. ‘You must tell me how you chart your patterns.’ And in the meantime there was no excuse for not behaving as a lady should.

Two days after Lady Fanny’s arrival, Madame LeBlanc and her entourage arrived at the Dower House. Katherine peered around the edge of the screen in her bedroom as Jenny undid her morning dress and helped her out of it. Madame herself carried nothing. Behind her two girls struggled with a vast box from which a foam of tissue paper emerged and behind them came the senior seamstress with a basket of threads, pincushions and extra lengths of silk.

‘This is exciting,’ Jenny whispered, peeping round the screen.

‘I know, I cannot wait to see it. Can you pass me my wrapper, please?’

Katherine emerged, fumbling for the ties of her wrapper, but too eager to see the new gown to wait and tie them properly. ‘Madame, good morning. You seem to have made excellent progress.’

‘I believe so Miss Cunningham. I expect there to be few changes necessary, in which case, if a room can be made available, my girls can finish the gown here today.’

‘But of course.’ Katherine turned to the box as layers of tissue were removed, revealing the pale primrose silk. Pale silk and an intricate pattern of crystal beading across a bodice with a twisted neckline and no sleeves. ‘This is the wrong gown! Madame, this is not the gown I chose.’

‘No, Miss Cunningham, but his lordship countermanded the decision …’

‘We will see about that.’ Wrapper flying, Katherine stalked over to the connecting door that led to Nick’s dressing room. She had never tried it to see if it were locked, considering that to check on such a thing showed little confidence in him. Now it jerked open under her hand.

The dressing room was deserted, but the door into his bedchamber stood ajar. Furious, Katherine palmed it open and swept into the room. ‘Nicholas! Will you kindly tell me what is the meaning of—?’ and found herself confronting her husband in his shirt and apparently little else and a pair of dark-clad men, one clutching a pair of satin knee breeches, the other with his mouth full of pins.

Nick stared, enchanted and aroused at the sight of Kat, colour high, storming into his bedchamber in her stockinged feet, unfastened wrapper flying, bosom heaving above a very fetching set of stays.

The tailors whipped round and beat a hasty retreat. ‘We will wait outside, my lord,’ one mumbled dangerously through the pins. Nick ignored him, scarcely registering the sound of the door closing behind them.

‘Kat, darling …’ All he wanted to do was sweep her up, toss her on to the bed and make ruthless love to her until her anger turned to gasps of passion.

‘Don’t you darling me, you deceitful man! Why did you tell Madame LeBlanc to make the other gown? I did not agree to it, I cannot afford it and I do not want it!’

‘Now that last is a fib and you know it, Kat. You did want it, you were just too proud to let me buy it for you.’

She responded with a hiss of fury. God, but she was lovely! He had never seen her lose her temper, and suspected it was a rare event. Rare or not, it was powerfully erotic, and would have been even were she fully clothed. He was thankful for the voluminous cut of his shirt, which hid just what an effect she was having on him.

‘So why did you buy it when you knew it would upset me?’ she demanded, hands fisted on her hips.

‘To give me the pleasure of seeing you wear it.’ That effectively took the wind out of her sails, he noted. ‘So it is a gift I make to myself—all I ask is that you enjoy it for the night.’

‘Oh.’ Katherine watched him, obviously undecided how she now felt. ‘It would give you pleasure if I wear it?’ She seemed suspicious, claws retracted, but not sheathed.

‘Everything you wear gives me pleasure, Kat,’ he murmured, taking a step forward. ‘This, for example, is a very fetching ensemble.’ He let one finger trace the swell of her breasts, pushed up by the stays Jenny had laced tight in anticipation of the ball gown.

Her skin was like hot satin under his caress. For a long moment she was still, only her tumultuous breathing moving his hand as it rested on her. Nick was not conscious of breathing, of anything but the feel of her, the scent of her rising hot and heady with her anger. Anger that was turning into something else as he held her eyes.

Then she blinked, as though waking from a trance and looked down. ‘My … look what I am wearing!’

‘I am.’ His voice felt as husky as it had in the days following the hanging.

‘And you …’ She backed away, the hot colour of temper replaced by a vivid blush. ‘You … ‘

‘If you will burst in on a gentleman when he is trying on his breeches,’ Nick said, knowing his reasonable tone was enough to provoke her into another stimulating outburst, ‘you must expect him to have removed his old pair first.’ He managed, with an effort, to look faintly shocked. ‘I do trust Cousin Fanny does not take it into her head to come over and exercise her role as chaperon.’

‘Oh, you are impossible!’ Kat stamped her foot. All he wanted was to take her in his arms, kiss that temper off her face, replace it with yielding, pulsing passion. Dare he risk it, or was it too soon? Kat took the decision out of his hands. ‘Men!’ she said with withering scorn. ‘You are all the same.’ And marched back through the dressing room door.

‘Phew.’ Nick let out a deep breath and walked to the window, which he threw wide. A little fresh air and some calming thoughts about porridge, or the Hearth Tax or Cousin Fanny’s church kneelers were necessary before he let the tailors back in. He leaned out and looked towards the windows of Katherine’s suite. At least, hopefully, she was now too flustered to do anything but accept the ball gown of his choosing.

Katherine paused in Nick’s dressing room and tied the sash of her wrapper. The tender skin below her collarbone seemed so sensitive that it might have been scalded. She stared, wide-eyed, into Nick’s dressing mirror and could only hope that her tumultuous breathing and flushed face could be put down to her outburst of temper just now. With a deep breath she pushed open her own bedchamber door and walked back in with rather more decorum than she had shown leaving it.

Madame LeBlanc turned from where she had been making polite conversation with Jenny. The sewing girls kept their heads down. Doubtless, she thought bitterly, only strict discipline kept them from giggling openly.

‘I beg your pardon, Madame,’ she said coolly. ‘I remembered something I needed to say urgently to his lordship.’

‘Of course, Miss Cunningham,’ the modiste said graciously just as Katherine realised that she had admitted storming, in her undergarments, into a gentleman’s chamber. She saw Jenny rolling her eyes in despair at such a faux pas. Oh, well, there was nothing to be done about it, she could only hope that Madame was discreet. There would be no doubt just what she was thinking.

‘Now, Miss Cunningham, if you could just slip this on.’ Madame advanced, her arms full of silk, and Katherine gave up thinking about anything except her ball gown.

But, after the final pin had been placed and the confection lifted tenderly away by the seamstresses to one of the bedchambers where they were going to work on the final adjustments, Katherine realised that there was a very good chance that she would soon find herself alone with Nick. And after that stormy encounter in his bedchamber she was not at all certain how she was going to react to that, or how she wanted him to. The feeling that had throbbed between them for those few seconds had been so intense, so … carnal that it had shaken her out of the feeling of safety she had slipped into. It had been a tense and unhappy sort of safety, but now even that had vanished.

She would certainly be dining alone with him, for they had agreed to stay at home that evening. Still, the presence of two footmen would ensure the conversation stayed on strictly impersonal lines and perhaps by the end of the meal she would be feeling a little more composed.

But that left luncheon and the whole of the afternoon. Katherine glanced at the clock. It was noon. If she went to the House she could eat there and that would give her the opportunity to ask the Duke if there was anything she could do to assist with the preparations for the ball. Not that she had ever had to plan such an event, or even attended anything that might approach the magnificence of a ducal entertainment. Still, she was a guest and it behoved her to make the effort to be useful.

‘Jenny, please lay out my riding habit and ring for Paulson.’

The senior footman who was doing duty as butler until Nick engaged his own staff received with some concern his mistress’s request to have her pony saddled and a groom standing by to accompany her to the House.

‘Without his lordship, my lady?’ he queried, shooting an anxious glance in the direction of Nick’s rooms.

Katherine hid her amusement at the contrast between Paulson’s nerves and Heron’s imperturbable approach. ‘Certainly. And would you tell Cook that I will be taking luncheon there.’

‘Yes, my lady.’ He backed out and Katherine was seized by a sudden qualm that he might ask Nick for his opinion before obeying her orders. But when she hurried downstairs in her flowing habit the groom was waiting patiently, Lightning and his own hack by his side.

He gave her a careful lift into the saddle with cupped hands under her foot and waited while she settled herself. Katherine felt a momentary stab of nerves: was she really ready for this without Nick?

‘We will walk the entire way, please,’ she said, missing the look of relief on the groom’s face. He did not want to be the man in charge when the mistress fell off, that was for sure.

In the event the ride was completed successfully and Katherine toyed with the idea of asking Nick to teach her to trot soon. When they were talking again, that is.

Heron assured her that it would not be the slightest inconvenience if she partook of luncheon and ventured that he expected his Grace downstairs at any moment. Katherine hastened along to the small dining room, concerned not to be late and irritate the Duke. In the event she arrived at the same time as virtually the entire household, including Lady Fanny and a pale young man she did not recognise.

‘My dear, you are joining us. Delightful.’ His Grace seemed pleased to see her.

‘Thank you, your Grace.’

Robert pulled out a chair for her on the Duke’s right hand and beamed at her. ‘I have not seen you for what seems like an age. Where has Nick got to?’

‘He is at the Dower House with his tailor,’ Katherine helped herself to bread and butter. ‘I rode over with a groom.’

‘Then the riding is going well?’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Very well, provided we only walk. Although I have to confess to thinking I might venture to trot soon. The reason I came over today is because I wanted to ask if there is anything I can do to assist with the preparations for the ball.’

‘Not a thing, my dear, but it is good of you to ask.’ The Duke nodded in the direction of the pale man who was sitting silently beside Katherine. ‘Jeremy has everything entirely under control as usual. Ah, perhaps I have been remiss—can it be that you have not yet been introduced to Mr Greene, my secretary? Jeremy, Lady Seaton.’

‘Ma’am,’ he murmured, blushing.

‘Are you resident here?’ Katherine asked. He was very self-effacing, but surely she would have noticed him before?

‘No ma’am. I live in the village with my mother, who is widowed, and his Grace is good enough to allow me to come in daily—’

He broke off with a start as the door opened and Nick strode in, looking thunderous. ‘Katherine! So here you are.’