Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1
In fact, she suspected that after a few weeks she could well find herself very fond of both of them. Which was no reason not to annul the marriage; in fact, liking them, she felt more than ever that she must not impose upon them.
In her room Jenny was ready waiting with hot water and hair brushes, the best of Katherine’s limited choice of evening gowns laid out on the bed. Light was fading over the park and, as Katherine washed, the maid went round the room closing the heavy blue curtains across the windows.
With the outside world shut out, she looked closely at the bedchamber for the first time and shivered. The room seemed glacial to her eyes, used as she was to a bedchamber as a sanctuary, a warm retreat where she could create a feminine, private world.
The walls were lined with ice blue watered silk, the polished boards were largely obscured by a vast Chinese rug in shades of blue and ivory and the high ceiling and plasterwork seemed to enclose her like the sugarwork on an elaborate cake. Even the bed did not offer much promise of comfort. It was so high she would need a footstool to get into it, the covers were a mass of white lace and the hangings more chilly blue silk.
The pictures played their part in her discomfort—a full-length portrait of an exquisite young lady in a lavish gown and marvellous parure of diamonds regarded her with disdain and, on another wall, a classical scene showed maidens being dragged to a sacrificial altar.
Jenny followed her mistress’s gaze and pulled a face. ‘Nice thing to have in a bedchamber, I don’t think! Enough to give a body nightmares. Here’s your pearl ear-bobs, Miss Katherine.’
Katherine hooked them into her lobes with the sinking feeling that she was the maiden on the way to a sacrifice. The prospect of the meal filled her with dread. She would be surrounded by servants who, if they did not know it already, would soon be aware of the strange nature of the Marquis’s marriage.
Luncheon had been an ordeal, how much worse was a formal dinner going to be? She would have to make polite and appropriate conversation with three men, two of whom she hardly knew and one of whom she loved and could not have. And, to crown it all, she must hope that with her limited experience she did not commit some breach of etiquette in this ducal household and embarrass both herself and Nicholas.
But it was none of those things that made her want to order Jenny to throw everything into their portmanteaux, to send for John to harness the team and to flee back to the shabby comfort of last night’s inn. A creeping unease was coming into her heart, a feeling that she was out of her depth already and into a situation where she had no control. Whatever happened she was going to be hurt, she knew that, but now it was no longer just herself and Nick involved.
The men were gathered in what Heron informed her was, ‘The Chinese Salon, your ladyship, it being more comfortable for small family gatherings.’
Remembering some of the bewildering succession of apartments through which Robert had led her that afternoon, Katherine could only be thankful for that information. She swept into the room with her chin up, telling herself that if she could beard a highwayman in his den she could face a Duke in his palace.
The men looked up as she entered. They had been gathered around a table with a paper spread upon it and, as Katherine came closer, she saw it was a large map. She bobbed a curtsy and looked up to meet Nick’s eyes. He smiled and without calculation she smiled back, relieved to find his warmth in the middle of the cold formality. Then Robert greeted her and the Duke stepped forward, gesturing her to look at what they had been studying and the chill, lonely feeling ebbed away.
‘I was just showing Nicholas this map which Mr Crace, our archivist, found recently in the Muniments Room. He is unable to join us for dinner, as he is dining with Reverend Rossington, our chaplain, at the Bishop’s palace.’
Katherine swallowed a small gasp. Of course, a Duke would have an archivist and a chaplain and of course they normally joined the family for dinner. Was it ever possible to be private in this vast house?
Nick was poring over the map again, one long finger pointing to what seemed to be a house towards the edge of the park. ‘Is Cousin Wilhelmina still in residence in the Dower House, sir?’
‘No, she died three years ago,’ the Duke replied. ‘The place is empty now.’ He regarded his elder son sharply. ‘Have you a use for it?’
Nick shrugged, ‘Possibly, sir, if you have not. I shall need to be setting up my own establishment.’
‘You can have the east wing here to your entire use should you wish,’ the Duke remarked. ‘Why do you wish to move out of the house?’
‘Because, with respect, sir, I think we would deal better together if we are not in each other’s pocket. And my wife informed me last night that she prefers a smaller home. Something snug and cosy were the words she used, if I remember aright.’
‘Nicholas!’ The word was forced out of Katherine with more emphasis than decorum and she blushed. ‘Excuse me, your Grace. I meant no disrespect, I had no idea where Nick lived when I spoke.’
‘So, he had not told you.’ The Duke smiled thinly at their discomfiture. ‘You could not have guessed what you would find. And in any case, you would expect the marriage to have been ended long before the Dower House is fit for habitation, would you not?’
‘Yes, of co—’
‘No.’ It was Nick, cutting emphatically across her response. ‘No, that is by no means agreed.’
Chapter Fifteen
As soon as he spoke he regretted it. Not the sentiment, but the abrupt way he had spoken, for Katherine’s eyes meeting his held not the defiance and anger he expected, but a sort of blank tiredness. He felt as though he had raised his hand to strike an already beaten animal.
‘Kat …’
‘Dinner is served, your Grace.’
The Duke stepped forward to offer his arm to Katherine and Nick wondered if he had imagined the expression in her eyes. Now they were bright, attentive on his father, and she was already asking a thoughtful question about the Chinese wallpaper which extended from the Salon into the dining room.
The table was reduced by most of its leaves and conversation would be easy, he thought, taking the foot of the table while Katherine was seated on his father’s right and Robert took the opposite place. It did mean he was sitting at right angles to her, which made it difficult to examine her face more closely.
Still, he mused while mechanically disjointing the capon set before him, the view of Kat’s profile was charming enough to keep any man occupied over dinner. The dark lashes swept her cheek, fluttering modestly in contradiction to the set of her firm little chin. Her nose was straight and when she smiled, as she was doing now at Robert who was offering her fish, there was a hint of a dimple in her cheek.
But despite the smile, he could not read her mood and he had become used to being able to do that on the long journey together. It had seemed she was not used to dissembling, to hiding her feelings; when she was angry her chin came up, her eyes flashed and she said what she thought. When she was happy her laughter was infectious and her whole body relaxed into a fluent softness that had an alarming effect on his own.
But now she was on society manners, listening attentively to her father-in-law and interposing a sensible question from time to time. She seemed to be sharing her attention equally between his father and brother. Nick tried interjecting a question.
‘Do you ride, Katherine?’
She turned to look at him and he was struck by how refreshing she looked in her simple gown in that exotic room. Her expression was serious and when she smiled the warmth did not reach her eyes. ‘No, I have never ridden.’ The smile became rueful. ‘We never lived in the country after I was twelve and in town it was difficult enough keeping the carriage and pair without adding riding horses.’
‘Would you like to learn?’ Her eyes came back to his reluctantly, he could swear. What was wrong? Surely something more than pique over having been kept in the dark over his title and circumstances?
‘Thank you, but I am sure you will be too busy while I am here. And I will have no use for such a skill—it would be a waste of your time.’
‘I do not intend to keep Nicholas chained to the estate manager’s side,’ the Duke interjected drily. ‘He will catch up on affairs here soon enough. And possibly he has plans of his own.’ He regarded his son blandly and Nick acknowledged the remark with a movement of his head.
Now what was the old devil up to? Calling his bluff seemed the easiest way to find out.
‘Indeed I have, sir. Naturally I must devote some time to Witherspoon and to whatever I may do to assist you. Then there is the Dower House to set to right, a hunting lodge to acquire in the shires—I think I will rent at first—and the question of a house. In town. None of that should stop me spending time teaching Kat to ride.’
She did not rise to the bait, merely toying with the timbale of rice before her. The Duke remarked, ‘The town house is entirely at your disposal, I visit only when the Lords are sitting, and these days, not always then.’
‘Thank you, sir. However, I was wondering whether to take something smaller for the time being.’
The footmen cleared the table and for a moment the room was emptied of staff while the second remove was collected from the adjoining pantry.
‘But surely,’ Kat observed mildly, ‘the family house would be more suitable for your purposes next Season?’
‘Why so?’
‘It will impress fashionable mamas, and that is so important when entering the Marriage Mart.’
Robert stifled a gasp of laughter with his napkin, earning himself a look of mild reproof from his father, and a glare from his brother.
‘I am not intending to enter that particular circus.’
‘Well, not quite yet, of course, it would not be proper, but you did say something about the need to set up your nursery, did you not?’ Kat remarked with maddening affability. Heron returned with the footmen and she asked the Duke, ‘Is that delightful view over the fireplace the park here?’
The next course passed with conversation on neutral topics, relieved only by Robert remarking that, whatever else Nick did, he must take himself off to Newcastle as soon as possible and see a tailor. ‘For my coats will not stand the strain on their seams for much longer.’
There was general laughter at Robert’s mock indignation at the fate of his clothes, but Nick was watching Kat. Her hand trembled as she lifted her glass and she set it down hastily. The graceful line of her shoulders drooped slightly and he thought her laughter sounded forced.
Nick watched her chase a little curd tart round her plate until she could hide the remains neatly under her spoon and realised what was wrong: she was exhausted.
Should he say something? What would she expect to happen in this all-male household? But he had underestimated Kat’s poise. She caught his father’s eye, stood gracefully and smiled as the men got to their feet. ‘If you will excuse me from presiding over the tea table this evening, your Grace, I would like to retire, if I may.’
‘But of course, my dear. Sleep well.’
Nick moved to come to her side, but she shook her head slightly and he dropped back into his chair as she left the room. He felt guilt that she was obviously too tired even to want to berate him for his deception, hurt that she did not need his company. She seemed more comfortable with his formidable father than with him, she was certainly more relaxed with Robert. With an effort of will he dragged his eyes from the door and listened to what Robert was saying.
Kat was met in her suite by Jenny, bright eyed and excited. ‘Oh, Miss Katherine—my lady, I should say—it’s a palace here! The servants’ hall is so grand, and I’ve a room all to myself like I told you, and they’ve given me a girl to look after my things. And it runs like some great machine, they sent for me to say you were on your way, and a footman brought hot water, and another the warming pan, all without me having to ask …’
‘Please don’t call me “my lady”,’ Katherine said, sinking wearily onto the dressing table stool. ‘I am glad you are enjoying yourself. Is John all right?’
‘Oh, yes, my … Miss Katherine. A nice room to himself in the stable block and a lad at his beck and call.’ She unpinned Katherine’s hair, picked up a silver-backed hairbrush from the dressing table and began to brush out the brown curls in steady, soothing strokes.
Wearily Katherine closed her eyes and surrendered to the comfort of the nightly ritual. After a few minutes she reached up and unhooked her ear-bobs, eyes still closed. ‘I’m frightened, Jenny.’
‘Why?’ The rhythm of the brushstrokes hesitated, then resumed. ‘Because of his Grace? I’d be frightened of him and no mistake.’
‘No, Jenny. Because Nicholas—Lord Seaton—does not want to annul our marriage.’
‘Well, and why should he?’ the maid queried stoutly, unclasping Katherine’s necklace and beginning to undo the buttons down the back of her gown.
‘He should because of all the reasons I have already told you,’ Katherine said wearily. ‘And he will not because this is now a matter of pride with him.’ She stood up and stepped out of her gown, then sighed with relief as Jenny untied her stay laces. Finally draped in her negligee, she went to wash in the great bowl of steaming water on her washstand. ‘This is such luxury—we must not get accustomed.’
‘No, Miss Katherine.’ Jenny sounded unconvinced as she shook out a nightgown and passed it to Katherine. It was the pretty, flimsy one she had worn that night in Newgate. Katherine opened her mouth to protest, then shut it again. If she was tired, then so must Jenny be. He maid did not need her megrims.
‘Thank you, Jenny, now you run off to bed and try to get a good night’s sleep.’
As the door closed behind the maid, Katherine eyed the glacial chamber. It seemed vast now she was alone, the light from the flickering branches of candles hardly reaching the frosted detail of the ceiling, the shadows in the corners moving unnervingly.
She climbed into bed, a difficult manoeuvre involving a footstool, and found herself sitting up against a bank of pillows.
‘I am tired, that is all,’ Katherine told herself, her voice echoing round the room. It seemed to be quite out of scale to her solitary figure, as though it belonged to a giantess who would return at any moment and claim it.
She should wriggle down and go to sleep, she knew. The effort of will seemed beyond her.
The clock that was somewhere on the landing outside struck, time passed, it struck again, and again. This was ridiculous, she was fixed there like a rabbit mesmerised by a stoat. Now she was so tired she knew she could not sleep, she seemed to have passed beyond exhaustion into some kind of dream state.
A book, that would help. Katherine threw back the covers and slid out of bed, jolting herself painfully as she forgot the height she was at. But the room revealed not a single item of reading matter. She knew where the library was—dare she go down and find a book?
Defiantly Katherine shrugged herself into a wrapper. Anything had to be better than sitting sleepless in this ice cavern of a bedchamber, and no one would be about at this time of night. Her slippers appeared to have vanished, so with chamber stick in one hand she opened the door and slipped out into the corridor.
It seemed she had much to learn about life in a ducal home. Candelabra stood lit at each turn of the corridor and she saw a soft-footed servant making his way methodically along them, trimming wicks. Presumably just in case his Grace or one of the household decide to take a night-time stroll. Katherine blew out her own candle and drifted silently along the tortuous way to the stairs in the wake of the footman. He continued on and she ran lightly down, only to freeze at the bottom at the sound of light snores. A pair of legs protruded from the deep cowled porter’s chair by the front door, its occupant unstirring as she made her way across the hall and through the library door.
Even here there was a branch of candles on a side table by the fireplace and the fire itself was alight, banked up behind a wide brass screen. The great winged chairs on either side looked warm and inviting, the most homely sight she had seen since she set foot in the mansion.
Books were everywhere, filling the shelves, in piles on the floor and heaped on tables. She began to turn over one pile, delighted to find it consisted of novels, and recent ones at that. She took two at random, then went to curl up in the nearest wing chair, tucking her feet up under her with a little sigh of pleasure; books had always been a refuge when having to think about, and face, reality became too much.
Katherine flicked open the first book and found it was Scott’s Waverley. Good, she had missed that last year. She leaned forward to set the other volume on the table next to the candlestick and almost dropped both in shock.
‘Hello, Kat. Is the fire warm enough for you?’
It was Nick, leaning back in the shadowed depths of the other wing chair, enveloped in the dark folds of a silk dressing gown, a glass of brandy cupped in his hands.
‘Oh! You … I had no idea you were here, that anyone was.’ She swung her legs down and began to get to her feet. ‘I am sorry, I will go.’
‘No, sit down, please, Kat. I did not want to scare you away. What brought you down here? If the fire in your room has gone out, you only have to ring.’
‘I wanted a book to read, that is all. And I would not dream of disturbing the staff at this hour of the night.’
Nick shrugged. ‘Someone is always on duty.’
‘It seems ridiculous, on the off chance that someone might want something at two in the morning—I am sorry, that was rude of me, of course his Grace must order his household as he sees fit. This is his home, your home.’ Home sounded a hopelessly inadequate word for this place. ‘Palace,’ she corrected herself.
‘Does it seem like one to you?’ Nick sounded amused. ‘I suppose I just think of it as normal. I was brought up here, played in the corridors, fought the suits of armour, climbed up the ivy. Fell off the ivy,’ he added with a grin. ‘And into the lake.’
‘It is magnificent,’ Katherine said. ‘It is not that I do not appreciate it, just that tonight I needed somewhere cosy.’
Cosy, she chided herself. What a ridiculous word to use.
‘Was our cell cosy?’ Nick asked, the smile still in his voice.
‘Our cell?’ Katherine laughed. ‘How wonderfully domestic that sounds. I should imagine no one has ever thought of a Newgate cell with any affection before.’
‘Do you think of it with affection?’ She was becoming used to the flickering firelight now, could see the lines of his face etched by the light and shadows.
‘Yes,’ she said, then caught herself, surprised. ‘Yes,’ she repeated slowly. ‘It was so … safe. I was so frightened before—of the debt, of what Philip had done, of what was going to become of us.’
‘Of me?’
‘No, never of you. Never from the moment I saw you,’ she said vehemently.
‘Why ever not?’ Nick twisted in his chair so he could look directly into her face. ‘I must have looked terrifying.’
‘Your eyes were not. And you are … big. That is reassuring. And I just felt that if anything threatened me you would stand in the way and whatever, whoever it was, would never get past you.’ She sat back, alarmed at her own frankness.
‘Then let me keep you safe!’ He was on his feet in a swirl of rich, dark silk, the firelight glinting off his hair, raising red lights in it. He looked magnificent, angry, barbaric and Katherine’s heart missed a beat. ‘Forget this nonsense about an annulment and let this marriage stand.’
‘No.’ She stayed in her chair; it was too dangerous to get closer to that male energy, that powerful force. ‘It would be wrong. I take marriage very seriously. I have the example of my parents to guide me and I will settle for nothing less than a love match and a marriage of equals.’
‘You are a stubborn woman.’ He came to a halt in front of her, silhouetted against the flame so she could not make out his face as she stared up. ‘I could, so easily, ensure you could never get your annulment.’
‘And you would never force me. We discovered that last night,’ Katherine said, keeping her voice steady with an effort that hurt.
Nick threw himself down in his chair again and eyed her ominously. ‘It seems we have a stalemate.’
‘No, we have an agreement,’ Katherine said. ‘And in twenty-five days you are going to honour it.’
Silence. Then Nick let out a huff of frustrated breath. Katherine curled up more tightly in her chair and waited.
Eventually he said, ‘Why could you not sleep? Are you worried about Father?’
‘The Duke? Why, no, I like him.’
‘You do?’ His brows slanted up in surprise.
‘Yes, of course. You are very like him. And Robert, of course, I like him too.’
‘Then what is it?’
Katherine bit her lip. ‘Oh, dear, this sounds so rude and ungrateful. But it is my bedchamber. It is so … so chilly.’
‘Then we must have a fire rekindled, fetch you some warmer bedcoverings. Tomorrow I will have the sashes checked, there must be a draught—’
Terrified that he would ring for servants on the spot, Katherine stammered, ‘No, it is not the temperature. Oh, this is so foolish of me.’
Nick was on his feet. ‘Come along, let me see for myself.’
‘But, Nick, we cannot walk about the house together at this time of night!’ Katherine let herself be pulled to her feet because struggling did not appear to be of much use, but she quailed at the thought of being seen walking about the corridors at two in the morning in her nightclothes in company with her … with Nick.
‘Why ever not?’
‘But the servants!’
‘Yes?’ His eyebrows rose with all the unconscious arrogance of a marquis in his own home. ‘You are my wife. Why should I not walk where I wish with you?’
He was already halfway to the door, her hand held firmly in his. ‘And when they find out about the annulment? What then?’
‘They will assume I am insane,’ he said grimly, stepping out into the hall. ‘Provided they keep that opinion to themselves, that is their privilege.’
The snores from the porter’s chair ceased with a grunt, and a tousled grey head emerged around the edge, rapidly followed by a shaken-looking man in livery, scrambling to his feet. ‘My lord!’
‘Goodnight, Grimshaw,’ Nick said cheerfully as they passed. ‘Time for your rounds, I imagine.’
‘Yes, my lord. Er, goodnight, my lady.’
Katherine found herself being towed remorselessly back to her own chamber. Nick threw the door open and walked around, touching a candle to the various branched candlesticks that stood on surfaces round the room. In the flickering light of perhaps thirty candles, the Lake Suite stood revealed in all its icy magnificence.
He rotated slowly on his heel, staring around him, then went to peer more closely at the painting of the virgin sacrifice. ‘Hmm. A tactless choice of subject, one cannot but feel. I had forgotten this room—like being inside an ice sculpture is it not?’
‘You think so too?’ Katherine asked in surprise. ‘I thought perhaps it was just that I am not used to grand apartments and was being foolish.’
‘Well, I would not care to sleep in it if I had the choice.’ Nick was striding around the room, snuffing out candles as he went. ‘I will talk to Heron tomorrow.’
That was a relief, she could surely manage to sleep one night in this room, knowing she could move tomorrow. Nick blew out the last candle. ‘Oh, now I have nothing to see me to bed,’ she protested.