The Rebel Wife: Book Four in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  She thought back to Alex’s sudden change toward her after dinner with Duncan and her friends. How happy she’d been.

  Back to wandering around the British Museum, and Lord Pocklington’s cryptic comments before Alex had been so cordial and loving toward her.

  How happy she’d been.

  And yet no matter how much the wave of anger and grief threatened to overturn her, Kate would not give in to it. At least, not publicly. When one was the Duchess of Lexborough, one learned how to hide emotion, or risked being eaten alive by the Ton.

  “Eugenia Pulford, you are a spiteful little cat who needs to learn some manners,” was all she said as she gracefully rose to her feet.

  Eugenia looked shocked. “You can’t-” she began, but Kate just fixed her with an icy stare. Eugenia swallowed.

  “You forget who you address,” said Kate, not kindly.

  Eugenia swallowed again, before looking down at her empty plate. “My apologies, your Grace.”

  As small a victory as it was, Kate knew better than to press the issue. She walked away, publicly leaving Eugenia alone not ten minutes after joining her, knowing that the Ton would punish the girl enough with speculation as to why.

  Kate did not make her way back to her husband. For a moment she considered storming down to the cricket pitch and ringing her brother out for his well-meant but utterly misguided interference, but thought better of it at the last moment. She even debated telling Bella the whole (she knew her friend well enough to be sure that she, at least, had had no part in Duncan’s idiotic scheme) but decided that their marriage was too new for her to cause an argument between them.

  That did not mean, however, that she did not have business with her sister-in-law.

  “Ladies, there you are!” she called out as she approached a shockingly cerise picnic blanket. Bella, Abby and Emma were all together in the sunlight, although Abby clutched quite the largest and most ridiculously ornate parasol she had ever seen.

  “Kate!” cried Bella in obvious delight. “I thought you were still avoiding me!”

  Kate, her rage momentarily forgotten as she took in the lace-encrusted parasol that Abby spun rapidly upon her shoulder, barely remembered to kiss her sister-in-law and friend on the cheek.

  “Why would I avoid you?”

  “Because of the silly shooting contest,” said Bella. “You’ve hardly said three words to me since I called you a goose-cap.”

  “She is a goose-cap,” interjected Abby. “If she starts letting her husband have things all his own way now, he’ll be a tyrant before the month’s end, mark my words.”

  This comment had the effect of startling Kate out of her daze. “You’re quite right, Abby.”

  This pronouncement had the effect of making the Countess practically drop the parasol, and her best friend, Emma, groan loudly.

  “Don’t say that to her, Kate! We’ll never hear the end of it!”

  “What was Abby right about?” asked Bella, taking hold of Kate’s hands in her own. “Is everything fine, dearest?”

  “Perfectly capital,” said Kate, “for I’m going to take part in the shooting competition, after all.”

  Nine

  Alex supposed that his life as a Duke was quite as it should be, considering he had been back in England for only a few weeks.

  He had been welcomed back into the Ton with open arms, his family seemed to be as cheerful as he remembered from his youth, and if his wife was not quite as bright and lively as her letters had suggested, he buried his disappointment deep and concentrated on the fact that she was one of the kindest, sweetest women he’d ever had the pleasure to spend time with. He was lucky in that, and every morning told himself never to forget it.

  Coming to terms with the sheer amount of land and people under his control had been a touch more complicated than he had anticipated. His father’s ghost loomed large over every page, and it was in those quiet moments, surrounding by papers pertaining to land that he owned, that he regretted leaving England and missed his father terribly.

  In all fairness, the estates had been well managed by Hopkins during his absence, even if his steward insisted on crediting his mother with their smooth operations. His father’s guiding hand lay on everything, and for that Alex found himself increasingly thankful.

  There were a few orders that he had sent over the years that appeared to have gone astray; his directive to pull down the old shepherd’s cottages on the land that bordered Squire Rumble’s property, for example, had not been carried out. He supposed that was to be expected, considering the length of time he had been away. Letters were notorious for going missing, after all, and he had to say that Hopkins had managed well enough under the circumstances, even if the man did not seem happy about now fulfilling some of Alex’s orders.

  “But there’s families living in the cottages, your Grace. They’ve been there for generations, some of them.”

  “No doubt they’ll be happier in the newer houses that we built over by the marshes.”

  Hopkins had run his hand through his hair, an action that Alex had come to realise meant he was nervous, but about to question the directive nonetheless.

  “With all due respect, you Grace, but those properties are already occupied, but even if they weren’t, they’re a good hour further away from the village.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Alex had asked, genuinely confused. “The location is better and the houses less prone to leaking.”

  “Community, your Grace,” Hopkins had answered. “Best to ask the Duchess – she understands your people very well.”

  “As I do not,” he’d said wryly, but Hopkins had not so much as stammered an apology. “Very well, I will ask her when I see her next!”

  His mother had not, as it turned out, been much help on the matter.

  “Good grief, Alex, what would I know about the reasons for people to choose where to live?” she’d said around a mouthful of egg when he raised it at breakfast.

  “Hopkins pointed out that you know our people better than I do.”

  “Of course I do, you haven’t set foot at Darlington this last decade,” she replied with perfect candour. “Helena understands our people better than you do!”

  “Mrs Smith lives in the largest cottage and runs the lives of all the neighbours,” said Helena as she buttered her toast, apparently oblivious to the sarcasm in their mother’s words. “She’s as old as an oak and can be tremendously bad tempered, but so long as you compliment her chickens she’s actually quite sweet. Her biscuits are delicious, too, although you will have to stay and listen to stories about her grandchildren as payment for them.”

  Alex stared at his sister in surprise. “You have taken the time to get to know our tenants?”

  His sister shrugged. “Kate said it was important to know one’s tenants if one is the mistress of an establishment. Also, I pass that way whenever I ride over to see Jon- to see Squire Rumble and his family.”

  Alex, not yet prepared for the battle over Helena’s future marriage, turned his attention instead to his wife. “Is that what you think, Kate? I am glad to see you take some interest in the Estates.”

  Kate and his mother shared a long gaze while Kate chewed on her breakfast. She swallowed and transferred her attention to Alex.

  “I have made it my business to know all of the tenants since we were married,” she said in a tone that suggested she was expecting an argument. “Helena is quite right about Mrs Smith being the unofficial leader of the Western Cottages, for she has lived there since she was a baby.”

  “If she is as old as Helena insists then surely she would much prefer the more salubrious accommodations we built near the marshes, especially if we let her bring the chickens,” he said with a joking smile.

  Kate shared another look with his mother before shaking her head.

  “No, it is more important to maintain the sense of community at West Cottages,” she replied. “Besides, since we repaired the rooves and p
lanted a hedgerow for a windbreak, the residents have been perfectly satisfied with their homes.”

  “You planted hedgerows around West Cottages?” he repeated. “When, precisely?”

  “Two years ago.”

  Alex didn’t answer right away as he mentally ran through the various letters he had sent over the years. “For clarification, did Hopkins receive the letter telling him that the cottages were to be pulled down?”

  There was an awkward silence. Even Helena seemed aware of the tension as she placed her knife and uneaten toast back down onto her plate.

  “Yes,” said Kate, her voice clear and confident. “You were mistaken in your direction, and so I issued new ones.”

  “On whose authority?” he asked, trying his best not to lose his temper.

  “On my own as the Duchess,” she replied.

  This time the silence lasted an eternity. Alex, sifting through his memories of the last few weeks, suddenly realised what an utter fool he had been.

  “You deliberately undermined my authority,” he said, struggling to keep his tone even. “You are the one who has charge of the household, who has looked after the Estates and who has managed the accounts in the years since Father died.”

  “Some of it before that,” she agreed with a small nod. “I have had charge of the household expenses since I turned sixteen – although your mother does look over them from time to time.”

  “Not for the last five years,” his mother said, but her encouraging smile was directed at Kate. “You always did have a head for numbers.”

  Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was you who had the candles changed in my rooms.”

  “Only after you requested it,” she replied.

  He stared at her, uncomprehending. True, he had been pleasantly surprised by the woman his wife had grown into, but she had been so quiet, so unassuming, that it was hard to comprehend the fact that she had been in control of the Dukedom for all of these years.

  “Why you?” he asked, sounding petulant even to his own ears. “Why not mother or God help me, Arthur? Why did you not tell me it was left in your hands to take up these duties?”

  Kate turned her attention back to her breakfast. “Because there was no one else here to do so.”

  The words hit him like a hammer, and he looked across to his mother.

  She shook her head. “You do not understand, Alex, for you were not here. After your father died, I… I was distraught. It was so sudden and unexpected. Arthur was away at University, and Helena so young that it was all I could do to take care of her. Then you didn’t return as expected, but things still needed to be done, direction needed to be given. I suppose we all fell into the habit of letting Kate decide on the important matters. By the time I was recovered there seemed little need for my interference.”

  Emotions warred with each other inside of Alex. He was angry at himself for his selfishness and irresponsibility, angry at his family for leaving Kate to manage the dukedom, angry at Kate for daring to take on the mantle without permission. Pride and shock that she had managed to do so.

  Shame for having left it in her hands.

  Anger for not realising it sooner.

  “And since my return, you have continued to act as Duke rather than rightfully surrendering that authority to me,” he said, unable to hide his bitterness. “Has Hopkins carried out a single one of my directives?”

  “That is something that you will need to discuss with your steward,” replied Kate. She hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lip before responding further. “Although I did suggest he wait to begin work on some of your orders until you had had the opportunity to visit Darlington for yourself. It is possible that your opinion on what is to be done may change.”

  “So you have sought to undermine me,” he said grimly. “I tell you this, Kate, I will not accept any interference when it comes to my duties as the rightful Lord of the Lexborough estates. If Hopkins cannot see that my word is paramount, then perhaps I shall seek out a new Steward.”

  Kate blanched as though physically struck, while his mother slammed her coffee cup down onto the table.

  “That is enough, Alex! If you cannot be grateful to both Hopkins and your wife for preventing you from doing something detrimental to your holdings then you are even less capable of filling your father’s shoes than I thought! Kate is a diamond, and I will not listen to you speak to her this way!”

  “Dearest, no,” said his wife, looking pale.

  His mother was having none of it. She stood up, ignoring the plate of half-eaten food before her as she glared at Alex in a way that made him feel like a greenhorn boy.

  He realised in that moment just how much anger his placid, gentle mother carried about with her. And just how much of it was aimed at him.

  “Kate, Helena, I find that I must speak with you both immediately about the upcoming ball. The Duke can finish his breakfast in peace,” she said and stalked out of the room.

  Kate stood without so much as a glance over at him and followed his mother. Alex reached a hand toward her retreating figure, was about to call out her name and apologise, when Helena appeared beside him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I told you what she was like,” said Helena, “but you shouldn’t have spoken to her in such a way. Even if half of it was true.”

  Which half? he wanted to ask, but his sister stole a slice of toast from his plate and skipped out of the room.

  “You idiot,” he muttered and rested his head in his hands.

  *

  Thanks to the unsubtle interference of her mother-in-law, Kate managed to avoid Alex for most of the day.

  “He needs time to think things over, my dear,” said Sarah, giving her a tight hug. “He’s an idiot, but he needs time to realise it.”

  “Don’t be too angry at him,” Kate had replied, holding her mother-in-law tightly for longer than she needed to. “He never meant to hurt you, either.”

  “Nonsense,” Sarah said as they finally broke their embrace. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I did a far better job raising you than I did any of my own children.”

  As Sarah obviously did not want to converse further, Kate found herself sent off to run a number of frivolous errands in order to keep her out of the house. She had to visit the warehouses to purchase a garden’s worth of artificial flowers, which took an inordinate amount of time to match perfectly with the rest of the décor for their ball.

  Next, she had to stop into the family’s modiste to ensure that Helena had not managed to make the changes to her ball gown she’d desperately wanted, despite their being utterly unsuited to a girl in her first Season. After that, Kate had taken the opportunity to stop by the lending library to exchange some novels that had turned out to be rather insipid, and along with a handful of other errands, she did not return home until the clock struck seven.

  This, in turn, left her barely enough time to complete her toilette (which took her maid a full half hour longer than anticipated), meaning that she only came face to face with her husband in the hallway, where he waited with his mother and sister, to escort them all to the Jersey’s musical gathering.

  “You look beautiful,” said Alex as he surveyed her gown, an odd note to his voice that suggested he had no wish to continue an argument with her.

  At least, not yet at any rate.

  “Thank you, it is a favourite,” she replied in perfect truth. The white satin round dress was detailed with a gold twist, while the daring, wide-necked design of frosted satin was both beautiful and striking. Her headdress, a matching white satin Emsdorf helmet trimmed with gold brocade and ostrich feathers, was a new addition, but her maid had worked her hair into a profusion of ringlets on each side of her face, while a long Theresa curl fell across the bare skin of her shoulder.

  If the outfit just so happened to make her look like a Roman Goddess, like those that Alex so admired, well, that was nothing more than a happy coincidence.

  The look on Sarah’s
face, however, let her know that things were far from resolved for the family. Even Helena was looking mulish, which did not bode well for the rest of the evening.

  “Perhaps we should go to the carriage?” she said with a perfect society smile.

  “Kate, are you happy with my dress?” blurted out Helena. Alex closed his eyes and looked pained, but said nothing. Sarah met her gaze, but her expression was unreadable.

  Kate looked her young sister-in-law over and then gave an approving nod. “Is that the blue satin you bought a few weeks ago? I must say you look very beautiful, and I would never have thought to include a tunic of brown sarsnet. I think even Arthur will be forced to compliment you!”

  Helena, however, did not smile at this praise. “Alex said I look like I’m playing dress-up in your clothes,” she said, glaring at her brother.

  “Which only shows how little your brother knows about fashion,” said Kate as cheerfully as she could muster, “for I could never carry off such an inspired outfit, and besides, we both know that blue is not my colour at all.”

  Helena looked mollified by this, but still crossed her gloved arms over her chest.

  “You are not teasing me, then?” she said, looking a little suspicious. “You wouldn’t let me go out looking like a baby, the way everyone lets Eugenia make a fool of herself?”

  Kate pretended to be checking in her reticule for some mysterious object to buy herself a few moments. It was difficult to stay composed when she heard Eugenia’s name, and memories of the picnic came flooding back to her.

  “Eugenia is quite capable of ignoring the advice of every person good-natured enough to give it to her,” Kate eventually replied. “Now think, Helena; have I ever been afraid to tell you that your outfit was unbecoming? Or too dashing? Or unsuitable?”

  Helena frowned. “No, you’ve never been afraid to criticize my clothes.”