Regency Pleasures and Sins Part 1
‘Inaccurate and blasphemous,’ his father observed frigidly. ‘Might I hope that one of you will be good enough to knock on my door and inform me when my bath is available? If, that is, there is any water left in it.’
From the swirling water Nick realised that the other two had taken cowardly refuge behind him. ‘Yes, sir. I mean, we are just about to get out now, sir.’
‘Then I will remove myself from what will doubtless be a thoroughly unedifying sight.’
The curtain swished closed and Nick hauled himself out of the pool with a rueful chuckle. ‘And how old did that make you feel?’ he enquired of Robert, who was clambering out the other side.
His brother considered carefully. ‘Fourteen,’ he hazarded. ‘Damn it, I wish I had his tongue—or is it that left eyebrow?’
‘I have no idea, they are both lethal.’ Nick finished a brisk towelling and pulled on his robe, which he had had the foresight to hang up. ‘How do you two intend to get back to your rooms?’ He prodded a saturated pile of cloth, then shook out the pile of towels. ‘It will take more than one of these to cover your blushes. I suggest you hurry before the upstairs maids are about.’
Katherine swam up out of a dream where she was floating in a mass of black velvet, sipping champagne while Nick caressed her body with peacock feathers. ‘Tickles,’ she murmured faintly and woke to find her own tumbled hair was tickling her nose.
‘Are you awake, Miss Katherine?’ It was Jenny, who stopped tiptoeing around the room and drew back the curtains with a swish. ‘It’s a lovely day.’
Katherine struggled up sleepily against the pillows, her brain fuddled by the incredible dreams that had filled her night. Then she saw Jenny’s expression as the maid waited impatiently at the end of the bed. ‘What happened?’
‘Happened?’ Katherine blinked at her.
‘After supper. The master told me I could go up to bed any time I wanted because he would look after you.’
‘He said …’ Katherine was suddenly very awake indeed. It had happened, it was not a dream. Nick had made love to her last night.
Jenny was positively fidgeting with impatience. ‘Is it all right now? You are staying married to him?’
‘No. No, nothing happened that meant I could not get an annulment,’ she said firmly, ignoring Jenny’s downcast face while she wrestled with last night’s events and what they meant.
Had anyone seen them leave? Had they been missed or had Nick’s timing been perfect? And if they had been seen, what then? Nick already had a reputation as a rake, possibly his actions would provoke nothing more than some tuts of disapproval. As for me, she reflected ruefully, I’ll soon be gone so they can think what they like of Miss Cunningham.
Nick had done everything he could to seduce her into staying short of breaking his promise to her. Why? Presumably because she had made it clear she was not going to change her mind because she liked his family or he had offered her a home less overwhelming than the house. But the only thing that was going to persuade her to stay was if he told her he loved her. And surely, Katherine thought, hugging the memory of last night to her, surely if he was ever going to say it, that would have been the time.
Even if he had, they would have had to consider long and hard whether it would be right to stay together. She could never forget Nick’s position, his inheritance and his father’s expectations.
But although he did not love her, he had given her a night she was never going to forget, a night filled with tenderness and ecstasy and trust fulfilled. Leaving him was going to hurt his pride, if not his heart, and she had so much to thank him for. How was she ever going to repay that?
Katherine swung her legs out of bed. One thing was certain, she had no intention of facing Nick over the breakfast table, so the sooner she went down the better. ‘What time is it?’
‘Half past seven, Miss Katherine. Surely you are going to have breakfast in bed?’
‘No, I will go down.’ She felt too restless, too unlike herself to stay in bed. Nick was not one of life’s early risers if he had any choice, so, if she was down by eight, she should be safe. ‘The dimity gown will be perfectly all right.’ Probably none of the other guests would be about either and she could escape to a corner of the Long Gallery after breakfast and try to think.
Nick was not in the breakfast room, but to her surprise both Robert and Roderick Graham were, both of them looking somewhat the worse for wear. They got to their feet as she came in and out of respect for their heavy eyes and sallow faces she helped herself quietly from the chafing dishes arranged on the sideboard and did not attempt to make conversation once the conventional greetings had been exchanged.
Then they were on their feet again as the Duke stalked in, looking as fresh as if he was fifty years old and had spent the previous evening reading by his fireside before retiring to bed at ten.
‘Good morning, Miss Cunningham. Mr Graham. Robert, where is your brother?’
‘Breakfasting in his room, I imagine, sir.’
‘Hmm.’ The old man’s inimical stare fixed on Katherine.
‘Possibly Lord Seaton is not a natural early riser, your Grace; some people are not,’ she ventured.
‘Modern affectations. I do not hold with them.’ The Duke sat down with his plate and engaged a nervous Mr Graham in meticulously polite conversation. That gentleman’s relief when the Duke finished his frugal breakfast was patent and he made his escape with Robert without a backward glance.
Katherine watched the Duke from under her lashes. His back was upright, his shoulders set, his expression calm and haughty. But under it she thought she could glimpse an old man. A tired, sad old man. Something caught inside her and she realised it was a pang of pity and compassion. But what could she do to help the Duke?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Katherine was visited by a sudden, terrifying idea. If she could, in some small way, reconcile Nick and his father, surely that was the best way she could possibly repay him for everything he had done for her? It was the only way she could express her love, even if he never knew what she had done, or why.
‘Sir.’ She got to her feet as the Duke did. ‘May I speak with you, sir?’ As soon as she had thought it, she knew how foolish it was to be afraid. He was just a man, an old man she had grown fond of.
‘Of course, my dear. Would you care to come into the library?’ When they reached it he pulled forward a chair for her and she sank into it, searching for words she wished desperately she had had the opportunity to rehearse. ‘Katherine, is anything wrong?’
‘Sir … please forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I have to speak with you about Nicholas.’ He still seemed receptive, so she carried on in a rush. ‘Sir, he loves you so much, he is so proud of you and I believe you feel the same about him, but neither of you show it. He is hurting, although he hides it, and I know it cannot be easy for you either.’
The old man’s mouth twisted suddenly and Katherine held her breath, convinced she had either distressed him or had simply overstepped the mark, but all he said was, ‘Go on.’
‘He left all those years ago because he was hurt and angry. From what he has told me, I am sure he offered you ample cause for anger. But you knew where he was in London, you knew what he was doing and you did not send for him, or go to him. He was very young, very proud, with a pride he learned from you. And that pride has hardened now to the point where it is difficult for him to take that first step, even though his conscience tells him he should.
‘Sir, you were so cool, so ironic when he came back. My father died ten years ago, but what I remember most of all about him was his warmth, his forgiveness, even when we had hurt or disappointed him.’
‘I find it hard to imagine that you were ever a disappointment to your parents, Katherine.’ It was said gently without any of the mocking edge the Duke’s voice so often held.
‘Of course I was,’ she said, half-laughing at the memories. ‘All children are, surely, from time to time. But if they know themselves to be loved, then they try harder next time.’ It had worked with Philip while her parents were alive, but since then it seemed her own influence was never enough.
‘I love both my sons, and I am proud of them both.’
‘I know that, but do they?’ She was growing in confidence now she knew the old man would not snub her efforts. ‘Did you know that Nicholas fought at Waterloo, that he had two horses shot out from under him?’
‘I knew he fought there, he let that much slip.’ The Duke hesitated, then said slowly, ‘I felt such dread that I could hardly speak, such pride I thought my heart might burst with it. I saw him standing there, so correct, so controlled, so obviously unwilling to share with me what must have been a devastating experience, and there were no words.’
‘He is a fine man,’ Katherine said, unaware of how her expression betrayed her. ‘And a brave one. It hurts him to speak of that battle and he will say little to me because I am a woman and he wants to protect me. He would speak to you, if you only ask. Has he told you that we were held up by highwaymen on our way here?’
The Duke’s eyebrows rose. ‘He has not.’
Katherine giggled, despite the tension she was under. ‘He was wonderful. He climbed out of the carriage, told them he was Black Jack Standon and showed off the marks of the noose on his neck. He thinks so fast and has such courage.’ She hesitated. ‘I saw him on the scaffold in the moments before the trap dropped. No one there knew who he was: but he did. He knew he was a Lydgate, and he knew how a Lydgate faced death. And he learned that at your knee.’
The Duke suddenly dropped his face into his hands and Katherine, without thinking, fell to her knees beside his chair and put her arms around him. ‘Oh, sir, you are both so proud—please do not let that separate you from your son.’
After a moment he looked up at her and she saw his eyes were wet with tears. ‘Thank you for that, my dear. I imagine I am not an easy person to approach in such a way, am I?’
That, if ever she had heard one, was an understatement.
‘No, sir.’
‘I rather think your courage is a fitting match for my son’s. I will do as you ask, I promise. Perhaps, when he does bestir himself, you would be very kind and ask him to join me here. There is no need to tell him why. And Katherine,’ he added as she reached the door, ‘you have heard the expression, The pot calling the kettle black?’
‘Yes, your Grace.’ She regarded him, puzzled.
‘Might I humbly suggest you apply it to yourself?’
Even more puzzled, she walked back slowly into the Long Gallery. What could the Duke mean? She was so absorbed in speculation that when she bumped into her husband she spoke to him without the slightest self-consciousness.
‘Oh, there you are, Nick. Your father asked me when I saw you to request that you join him in the library.’
‘Yes, of course. Kat, are you …?’
‘Go on, he is waiting.’ She pushed him firmly in the direction she had come from and walked on until she found her favourite window seat and curled up in it.
She had had the temerity to chide the Duke for letting his pride stand between him and the son he loved. Was that what he meant? That she was letting her own pride stand between herself and Nick? It was a chastening thought. All the time she had been fighting his pride, the honour that she felt must be driving him to maintain this marriage, and all the time it was her own pride that was opposing him.
To see her motives in such a light was not very comfortable. And if the Duke was encouraging her to examine her feelings, did that mean he was not opposed to the match? What other way could she read it?
And if the Duke was not opposed, and Nick was doing everything in his power to stop the annulment—Why am I fighting? I love him. He cares for me. To turn from him cuts at his sense of honour and what is right. I might not be the bride he would have chosen, but … Her thoughts baulked for a moment, then continued. I can make him happy and, one day, he might grow to love me.
Dizzy with a sort of terrified happiness, Katherine got to her feet and ran down the Gallery. She would wait outside the library, close enough to see when Nick came out. And then she would tell him that she would agree to let the marriage stand if he still wanted it.
There was a seat just past the library door that would be ideal. She slowed to a decorous walk and came level with the library door, which stood ajar.
Nick’s voice came clearly through the opening, then faded. He was obviously walking up and down.
‘… honour bound to marry her. How could I do anything else? … trapped … make the best of it …’ She froze, uncaring that she was eavesdropping.
The voices within dropped to a murmur. It seemed both men were pacing. Then the Duke’s voice came to her.
‘A nice enough girl … but in no way fitted for the role of your wife. Such a marriage … disastrous, and I think you knew it … from the beginning, but once … your honour would not let you turn away from her … ‘
Katherine walked blindly on down the corridor. The Duke had spoken of her with pity but also with a finality that made any idea of giving in to Nick’s persuasions quite ineligible. Under no circumstances was she going to be the cause of a new estrangement from his father. How could she have so misinterpreted the Duke’s parting words to her? Perhaps they had simply been a subtly worded rebuke.
‘My lady?’ It was Heron, a salver balanced on his white gloved hand.
‘Heron, I am sorry, I did not see you.’ She blinked back the moisture in her eyes and forced a smile.
‘This note has just arrived for you, my lady. The lad from the Durham Ox delivered it.’
Curious despite her distress, Katherine lifted the proffered note, then froze as she saw the direction—it was unmistakably Philip’s handwriting. All other thought fled. Thank goodness, at least he was alive and in England. Oblivious of Heron’s presence, she broke the seal and scanned the single sheet.
Katy, I am here at the Durham Ox, please come, I badly need to see you, Your loving brother, Philip.
He was back in England! Was that good news, or bad? Part of her hoped he had come to his senses and decided to return and reform his life, but bitter experience and the desperate scrawl of the writing made her fear the worst. How did he know where to find her? Arthur, she supposed. She had asked him to keep it a secret, but presumably he considered she could not have meant to hide from her own brother.
‘Heron, I need a gig and a groom to drive me to this inn directly.’
‘My lady, his lordship—’
‘My lord is with his Grace and must not be disturbed. My bro … there is someone whom I need to see at once.’
‘Very well, my lady.’
Katherine did not trouble to ring for Jenny. Her bonnet was on its block, her pelisse and gloves were laid out on the bed and it was a matter of minutes to make ready. Katherine scooped up her reticule and hesitated; the stocking purse within had just a few coins in it after her extravagances for the ball. With a grimace she reached into the dressing table drawer and withdrew the last of the money Mr Wilkinson had given her. It would be a miracle if Philip were not short of funds.
Heron was hovering in the hall when she got there. ‘The gig is outside, my lady, but are you sure you should not wait for his lordship?’
‘Quite certain, thank you, Heron,’ Katherine said with a confidence she was far from feeling. She wanted to see her brother again; no day had passed without her worrying about him and how he was faring, but this unannounced arrival did not bode well.
‘Very well, my lady. Durren, drive her ladyship to the Durham Ox. And wait inside for her,’ he added with some emphasis.
Her first glimpse of the hostelry explained much about Heron’s concern. It was the antithesis of the inn they had stayed at on the last night of their journey from London. This place was stark, shabby and, to Katherine’s anxious eye, sinister.
Durren handed her down from the gig with an air that spoke clearly of his own feelings about the place.
The landlord, when he finally appeared, was surly until confronted by Katherine’s coldly raised eyebrows and firm request to be taken to Mr Cunningham. ‘Back parlour, miss,’ he admitted with a shrug and a jerk of his thumb.
‘I’ll wait in the tap,’ Durren said, eyeing the man with disfavour. ‘Unless you wish me to accompany you, ma’am.’
‘No, thank you, Durren. I will call if I need you,’ Katherine said and laid her hand on the door to the parlour.
‘Go and find Katherine.’ The Duke laid a hand on his elder son’s shoulder and let it rest for a moment. ‘It is time you ended this farce of a marriage.’
Nick looked at his father and met the dark eyes, so like his own. He could remember feeling this churned up inside, this unsure, only once before. And that was six years ago when he had made the decision to walk away from his home, his family, his inheritance without even the woman he had thought he loved by his side.
He put up his own hand and let it rest on the older man’s for a moment. Whatever else happened he had this now, this warmth and understanding that he had never shared with his father before. And he was all too aware he had Kat to thank for it. ‘I will go and find her now,’ he said.
Heron appeared as if by magic as he came out of the room. ‘My lord, might I speak with you?’
‘Later, Heron, I must find her ladyship.’
‘It is about her ladyship that I wish to speak my lord. She has left.’
‘Left? When?’
‘About thirty minutes ago, my lord. Without her maid.’ He hesitated. ‘A letter arrived for her, hand-delivered from someone staying at the Durham Ox.’
‘From whom?’ Who the devil could be writing to Kat, and who, staying at the Ox, could possibly know her?
‘I could not say, my lord.’ The butler hesitated. ‘It seemed to worry her, my lord, although as she already appeared to be somewhat distressed I cannot be certain it was the letter that had that effect.’
‘Lady Seaton was distressed? Do you know what caused that?’ What could have upset her enough to leave so abruptly?
Heron looked embarrassed, an unusual phenomenon. ‘I was coming to look for her and saw her approaching down the corridor. I do not think she was aware of me, as I had just come around the corner and this end of the corridor is somewhat shadowed. She stopped abruptly at the door of his Grace’s study, hesitated and appeared to listen. She only stood there a moment, but she put up her hand to her mouth, as though in distress, and when she came up to me I saw she had tears in her eyes.’
Nick stared at the butler blindly. The door had been ajar, he had noticed it just now as he left. What had they been saying that she could have overheard? Then he realised just how their conversation about Arabella could have been misunderstood, especially if only partly heard.
What had he said? Something about having realised that Arabella was not the right wife for him, but feeling honour bound—feeling trapped—into asking her to marry him. His father’s words came back clearly. A nice enough girl, Miss Somersham, but in no way fitted for the role of your wife. Such a marriage would have been disastrous, and I think you knew it in your heart from the beginning, but, once committed, your honour would not let you turn away from her, I know that. If the name had been inaudible, as indeed it might, for the Duke had been pacing up and down the room as he spoke, then Kat could well have believed everything he said applied to her.
‘Her ladyship began to say something,’ Heron ventured. ‘I thought it might have been her brother who had written.’
‘Hell,’ Nick said softly. He had always felt confident that Kat would not take it into her head to simply leave him and try to obtain an annulment at a distance because she had no one to go to and no resources. But her brother, however unsatisfactory, was at least a male protector. ‘Thank you, Heron.’ He strode towards the hall, taking the stairs two at a time and burst out of the front door just as Robert rode past on the grey stallion Xerxes. The animal shied violently, then reared, almost unseating Robert, who got it under control with an effort and the use of language most unfitting to a candidate for the church.
Nick grabbed the rein. ‘Off, Robert. I need him.’ ‘What for?’ Robert dismounted. ‘Is something wrong?’ ‘Kat.’ Nick swung up into the saddle and reined in hard while he found the stirrups. ‘She’s run off.’ He was not wearing spurs, but the grey did not need them; with a snort it gathered its haunches under it and set off at the gallop.
‘Phil, you look so thin!’ Katherine put her arms round her brother and hugged him, appalled at how the ill-pressed coat hung off his frame. She released him and stood back to look at him anxiously. ‘Have you been ill? Or not eating properly.’
He shrugged sulkily. ‘No money. France ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, Katy. The inns are the devil of a price, the food’s awful unless you pay through the nose and the gaming’s crooked.’
‘Then why play?’ she asked despairingly.
‘How else was I supposed to live?’ he demanded petulantly. ‘It’s all right for you—you’ve been living in your palace with your marquis, dining off gold plates, no doubt.’
The sheer unfairness of it stung her into retaliation. ‘I had no idea who he was until we got here! You left without even waiting for the execution, without a word to me other than that you had gone to France—and you stole my clock and ear-bobs.’
He looked shiftily ashamed, but continued to whine. ‘I couldn’t stand it, I told you that. You do not know how bad it was for me.’
‘For you? I faced debtors’ prison, marriage to a man I thought was a common felon, the prospect of widowhood—and you could not stand it? There are times, Philip, when I despair.’
He shifted around the room, fidgeting so as not to meet her angry eyes. ‘Well, I’m back now, and you’ve fallen on your feet. Your marquis will have to do something for me.’
‘Oh, no, he will not,’ Katherine said vehemently. ‘I am getting the marriage annulled, so do not think you can sponge off Nicholas.’
‘Annulled?’ Her brother’s face broke into an unpleasant grin. ‘After you spent a night in a cell with him, goodness knows how many on the journey up here and have been living with him ever since? I know all about the Dower House—the goings-on at the big house are the main topic of gossip hereabouts.’
‘I will rely on medical evidence,’ Katherine said stiffly.
Philip sneered. ‘Virginities are restored daily in every brothel in the land, no one is going to believe—’
He did not finish the sentence. The door slammed back on its hinges and a tall figure took one stride into the room and hit him square on the jaw.
‘Do not,’ said Nicholas, Marquis of Seaton, massaging his grazed knuckles, ‘do not ever speak to my wife like that again. Get up and apologise.’
Philip struggled to his feet and backed away. ‘Katy, you know I didn’t mean it … ‘
‘Apologise.’
‘I am sorry, Katy.’
‘Now, listen to what I have to say, and listen to it well.’ Nick pressed Katherine gently down into a chair and smiled reassuringly. The caressing look was strangely at odds with the cold anger in his voice. ‘Tomorrow you will come to Seaton Mandeville and you will ask for Mr Wilkinson, the steward. He will arrange a quarterly allowance for you and will advance you the first quarter.’ He named a sum that made Katherine start in surprise and a slow smile to spread itself over Philip’s pasty features.
‘If my wife feels able to receive you tomorrow, she will tell Mr Wilkinson so. If not, you will leave the district immediately. If you attempt to visit Katherine without her express permission, the allowance will be stopped. If you try and run up debts using my name, it will be stopped. If you say or write anything to Katherine that causes her the slightest distress, it will be stopped. Is that clear?’