The Rebel Wife: Book Four in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  “I’m sure you must rely on my mother heavily for her guidance in such matters, my dear, but I admit that I wish you could exercise some influence over her in the matter of candles.”

  Kate looked confused. She straightened up, glancing between him and Hopkins. “Your mother requires my influence over candles?”

  Alex laughed and gave her hands a small squeeze before releasing them. “Nothing to worry yourself over – just a fancy of mine! It seems my mother uses a hive’s worth of beeswax in every room instead of tallow, or even doing without!”

  “You think that your mother is using up all the beeswax candles?” she repeated, once again looking bewildered as she gaze lingered on Hopkins for a moment before returning to himself.

  Alex shook his head, his smile fading. There was no doubt that his wife was regarded as some great figure in society – her social calendar was enough to assure him of that! – but there were times since their reunion when he had his doubts about her intelligence.

  Which was disappointing, if he was completely honest with himself. Her letters, while full of frivolity and amusing anecdotes, had suggested a keen mind hiding behind descriptions of the latest fashions. He had come home, secretly hoping for a wife that could grow into a companion and friend now that she was no longer a child, but it seemed the girl he had left behind had grown into a woman more concerned with fashion and fripperies than the important things in life.

  “Obviously yourself and my sister use them as well, I simply meant that she orders and pays for far more candles than necessary.”

  Hopkins suddenly made a choking noise. Alex spun around to face him, surprised to see the man turning quite red as he tugged at his cravat.

  “I say, are you quite well? Do you need a drink?”

  “Oh don’t worry about Hopkins, it is a… a nervous tic that he has,” said Kate, walking over to his man of business and thumping him soundly on the back. “Isn’t it, Hopkins?”

  “Of course,” Hopkins managed to stammer out. “I’ll be right as a trivet in a moment, your Grace.”

  Alex frowned, looking at Hopkins with some concern. “Are you sure you’re not ill?”

  “The doctor assured him that it is nothing to worry about,” said Kate, turning away from his man of business although she kept one hand on his back, “unlike this matter of the candles! Are you quite sure you have your numbers correct? I have never thought we were excessive in their usage.”

  “That’s because you’ve never practised economy, my dear,” he replied, just as Hopkins had a second choking fit.

  Kate smiled, but it was a little tight. “I suppose you are referring to my spending more than my pin money for the last few quarters.”

  “You do have a tendency to outrun the constable,” he said, but the look on her face made him regret his words. “It is not a criticism, my dear! Well, I suppose it is, but I mean you are not excessive in your spending. Most of the time. But it is probably difficult for you to understand just how quickly individual household items can add up.”

  “Like candles,” she said. “And peas.”

  His shoulders sagged in relief as she caught his meaning. “Precisely. And although my mother obviously maintains an excellently run household, I believe that by pointing out a few economies to her we will be able to save a few hundred pounds a year.”

  “I still think you will be surprised at how accurate her costing of candles is,” replied Kate. She was studying her glove with a frown, as though she had discovered some defect imperceptible to his male eyes. “I am sure it seems monstrously excessive to you, but when you consider the size of this house, and of course the size of Darlington, then I think you will see that your attempts to economise would cause undue hardship to the servants – and good servants are worth twice their weight in gold.”

  “We seem to have a lot of servants,” he muttered, thinking about both the butler and the under-butlers, the dozens of maids, and his mother’s two chefs in the London property alone.

  “Essential to comfort when one owns such large properties,” said Kate, turning back to look at him. “We have added no additional positions, other than a maid for Helena, since your father died.”

  That surprised him. “Are you sure? There seems to be a dashed larger number of people here now than on our wed- than when I left.”

  Kate looked away and said nothing.

  Hopkins gave a gentler cough. “That is indeed true, my Lord; in fact, we’ve reduced the number of grooms, since there was less need of them without your father’s racers.”

  “I see,” said Alex, when really, he didn’t know what to say at all. He tried to smile at Kate, but she was staring out of the window rather than at him. “Thank you for enlightening me about the candles, my dear, although I still think some efficiencies would be welcome.”

  “Perhaps we should not order the peas, then, for our ball,” said Kate, looking over at him with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I shall discuss it with mother,” he promised, not sure why it was important that she think he was following her advice.

  “Well, I shall leave you to your business,” she said with a small shrug. “Goodbye, Hopkins, goodbye Lexborough – I’m off for a stroll with Lady Gloucester about the park.”

  He barely had time to wish her well before she was gone.

  “That will be all, Hopkins,” he said quietly, trying to make sense of his confused feelings. “We can continue this tomorrow.”

  “Very good, your Grace,” said Hopkins, before exiting the book room with considerable haste, and leaving Alex alone with his thoughts.

  *

  In all of Kate’s daydreams about the return of her husband – and if she were honest, there had been far more of these than she considered seemly – the desire to throttle the life out of him with her bare hands had never played a prominent role.

  In the week following his return, however, she had indulged in that little fantasy on an almost daily basis.

  “Is it normal to want to murder your husband?” she asked, the words falling from her mouth before she had a chance to think them through.

  “I’ve contemplated drowning Gloucester on more than one occasion,” said her companion without so much as a blink, “but I wouldn’t say it was a regular occurrence with me.”

  Kate sighed. “I’ve thought about throttling Lexborough every day since he returned. Can you believe I actually wanted him to come home? I think I far prefer the boy who left to the man that returned.”

  Her friend of the past two years, Abigail Standing, the Countess of Gloucester, simply laughed in response.

  “Welcome to being married! Devilish uncomfortable at times!”

  “So far it has been that way all the time.”

  Abby flashed her a sympathetic smile. “Didn’t measure up to your imagination, then?”

  “No! Yes! I mean – oh I don’t know what I mean!” replied Kate, using every last bit of self-control not to scream her lungs out in the middle of Hyde Park. It was the fashionable hour, so although they meandered far from the usual crowds there were still a large number of people within hearing distance if she gave into a fit of distempered freaks.

  “Being high-handed, is he?” asked Abby, her tone sympathetic.

  Kate nodded, glad that the Countess, a few years her senior and married twice, implicitly understood the source of her frustrations.

  “Utterly. He has completely taken over the running of the Estate as though he’s been in charge these past seven years. I mean, I suppose he has in a somewhat remote way, but it is frustrating beyond belief that I am no longer able to direct things as I like.”

  “It must be difficult to swallow.”

  “Indeed,” said Kate, warming to her theme. “And do you know that my plans for repairing the farmer’s cottages at Darlington Park have had to be shelved until Lexborough has a chance to look them over for himself?”

  “How awful!” said Abby.

  “That’s not the wor
st of it! For some unknown reason, he insisted on referring to it as Hopkins’ plans for renovations.”

  “Hopkins?”

  “His man of business. A most excellent creature who worked for the old Duke, and has been an absolute dear in helping me keep everything in order. Unfortunately every time he tries to tell Lexborough that the Duchess is the one who has been keeping things running smoothly, the idiot thinks he means his mother!”

  Abby practically tripped over her own feet. “The Dowager Duchess? My apologies if I cause offence, my dear, but for all your mother-in-law is a lovely woman, she has considerably more hair than wit.”

  “She’s a widgeon,” said Kate with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I have no idea how she is going to cope when Lexborough insists on her using tallow candles.”

  “Good grief, why would he do that?”

  “He thinks we should economise,” said Kate darkly. The scowl on her features seemed to be permanent whenever she thought about Alex.

  “Gloucester tried that once,” said Abby, nodding to an acquaintance as they passed by on the pathway. “I doubt he will be so foolish again.”

  “Why is that?” asked Kate, intrigued by the smile playing about the Countess’ lips.

  “I ordered the candles in his bedchamber, dressing room, and study to be replaced with ones made from cheap pig tallow.”

  Kate gave a snort of laughter before she could help herself. “You didn’t!”

  “I jolly well did! Of course the house reeked like a tannery for weeks afterwards, and I did not expect the mice to infest the place. Or the rats,” said Abby with a small shrug. “Still, it taught him his lesson and he only refused to speak to me for a week before relenting.”

  Kate laughed, shaking her head. “Sometimes I wonder how he hasn’t murdered you.”

  “He knew what he was marrying, as did I,” replied the Countess, her expression softening at some private, tender memory.

  Kate felt her cheeks colour up. She looked away, her attention instead on the glittering water of the Serpentine as she thought about Abby’s words.

  “That’s the problem, though, isn’t it?” she said with a sigh. “Lexborough has no idea about what kind of woman I am, for I swear that when he looks at me he still sees the schoolroom miss he left behind.”

  “And what do you see, when you look at him?” asked Abby.

  The question caught her off guard. “I… well… well, I see Lexborough, of course!”

  “Do you see a Duke? A man of the same cut as your late father-in-law, or even of Lord Devenish?”

  She went to agree but stopped herself. The frown returned.

  “No. No, I don’t see that at all.”

  “Then what do you see?” Abby repeated.

  Kate rubbed at her sleeve. “I see a selfish fool who plays at being the Duke with no understanding of what that means. Like delaying the repairs to the farmer’s cottages until he deems to go view them for himself, or to replace good quality candles with cheap alternatives, never once thinking about the discomfort and inconvenience he is causing to others.”

  “It seems to me that there is a lot of resentment there,” commented Abby.

  “Yes. I suppose there is,” agreed Kate, feeling miserable now that her anger from the hour before had been thoroughly squashed.

  “Understandable, but it begs a question. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” said Kate, genuinely confused. “What can I possibly do to convince him that I’m not an idiot, or that he needs to listen to those with more experience in Estate management, or that he cannot just swan in and expect his whole family to give up their lives for his convenience? I mean, does he even know how hard it is to get vouchers for Almacks?”

  “I could enlighten him on that particular area,” replied Abby, her mouth twisted into a grimace.

  “I’m so sorry,” said Kate, feeling awful about reminding her friend that the patronesses of the exclusive club continued to refuse her entry to its hallowed ballroom. “If it makes you feel better, the evenings there are no better than insipid.”

  “I’m aware of that, and in truth I care little about the place other than the fact that I am not allowed to enter. If I had vouchers I daresay I would neglect to use them, but I can be a contrary creature that way.”

  “You are the best of creatures,” replied Kate with complete honesty.

  The Countess just smiled. “Then as your friend, I am advising you that you need a plan of attack.”

  Kate stared blankly, and Abby rolled her eyes.

  “With Lexborough, you fool! He needs to learn what a diamond you are – and to be punished a little for not seeing it sooner. Good Lord, Katie, you have had to fight tooth and nail for your standing in the Ton – and the fault for that can be laid directly at your husband’s door.”

  “He had his reasons for leaving,” said Kate, defensive even when she privately agreed with her friend.

  “Which mean nothing as far as the Ton are concerned,” replied Abby. “Now, what are you going to do to show him who you truly are?”

  “Short of putting pig tallow candles in his library, I have no idea.”

  Abby shrugged. “It’s a start. Now enough of menfolk, let’s talk about important things: the embroidery circle really needs to do something more to support the orphanage, and I want to think of an event.”

  “You don’t think the annual soiree will be enough?”

  The Countess responded with a rather vulgar rejoinder, which Kate instantly committed to memory, should she ever need it.

  “Everyone does soirees. They are duller than dishwater. We need something that will make a splash, and be talked of for weeks!”

  “Is this going to involve hot air balloons?”

  Abby scowled at her. “Are any of you ever going to let me live that down?”

  Kate laughed and was happy to find herself in a better mood than she had been in for days.

  There was not much time to pursue the new topic of conversation, however, for a young couple appeared on the path before them, so engaged in staring, adoringly, into each other’s eyes that they seemed entirely unaware of Kate and Abby’s presence.

  Which was unfortunate, considering the unchaperoned couple were Helena and Mr Rumble.

  “Good afternoon, dearest,” Kate said loudly. Helena practically jumped out of her skin, her face frozen in an expression of fright. “May I say you were absolutely right about purchasing that bonnet against my counsel; I think I’m going to have to bow to your judgement when it comes to headware.”

  “Kate!” was all Helena could squeak out in response.

  Mr Rumble was far more composed. He bowed deeply to both Kate and Abby in turn with perfect finesse.

  “Your Grace, Lady Gloucester, it is lovely to see you both again. The weather is ghastly, is it not? But Lady Helena and Lady Eugenia insisted on taking a stroll about the park, and I had not the heart to refuse them.”

  “You would have been a villain to do so,” said Kate, hoping against hope that Helena would retain her composure instead of throwing a temper tantrum in public, “and what man could resist being seen with a diamond like my sister-in-law?”

  “Especially when she’s wearing such a ravishing bonnet,” added Lady Gloucester, stepping forward with a smile. “I simply must know where you purchased it, Lady Helena, for if I can have one of my own, in blue rather than red, it would be absolutely perfect for my new spencer!”

  Kate could have kissed Abby, for her spoiled sister-in-law was always susceptible to flattery. Helena looked slightly less nervous as she gave the Countess direction to the talented mantua-maker responsible for the beautiful creation that crowned her black curls, but she glanced over her shoulder a number of times, looking increasingly cross as she did so.

  “Kate I know you are thinking badly of me right now, but it is monstrous unfair!”

  Kate did her best to keep her smile bland. “Why would I think badly of you, my
dear? You are walking along a well-trod pathway with a gentleman whom you have known for several years. It is perfectly unexceptional – do you agree, Lady Gloucester?”

  Abby nodded, a teasing smile on her face as she winked at Helena. “Devilishly respectable – quite unremarkable! If you wanted to make the Duchess mad you should have stolen a boat together, or opened a gin still.”

  Helena couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity, although her glance at Kate suggested she was not convinced that she was in the clear.

  Kate sighed. It wasn’t even that she disliked Jonathan Rumble – in fact she thought it showed remarkable good sense on Helena’s part that she had fallen in love with such a kind, intelligent young man – but she was far too young to be married off, and at the very least should get to meet other eligible gentlemen until she could be assured of her heart.

  “I think Lady Helena is referring to the fact our companions seem to have gone astray,” said Mr Rumble, sounding rather annoyed about the fact.

  “It happens,” said Kate, not for a moment suspecting this upstanding gentleman as doing something so nefarious as trying to lead Helena away to a secluded part of the park. “How are you finding the Season, Mr Rumble? Are you enjoying London?”

  This seemed to energise him, and he spent a few moments enthusing over the sights of the capital. Kate was surprised to discover that Helena had apparently enjoyed touring the city, and have even spent what was apparently a delightful afternoon the day before exploring the curiosities in the British museum.

  Kate was not surprised in the least to discover that Helena had not, in fact, been visiting with Lady Cordelia and Miss Manning, but it was something of a shock to learn that Helena had willingly spent several hours in a museum – hardly the setting for a romantic liaison!

  “Jonathan – I mean, Mr Rumble – was particularly desirous of seeing the Rosetta Stone, and after he went to the trouble of procuring tickets for us I thought it would be an amusing way to spend the afternoon, for despite what Eugenia says, I do not think anyone will mistake me for a bluestocking just because I am quite intrigued by old things,” said Helena, looking mulish.

  “No one who wears such a dashing bonnet could ever be thought a bluestocking,” declared Abby, much to Helena’s evident mollification.