Kathryn, The Kitten

by Lavinia Kent

  He took another steep swallow.

  “I am surprised to see you here, Harrington. I didn’t think you the type to haunt this place at such an early hour.” Thomas Nettingsly, the Marquess of Tattingstong, pulled a high wing chair to the other side of the table. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, just as he had years ago when they’d been at school.

  “My mother and grandmother have both arrived in Town today.” Which was cause for another swallow.

  “They are staying with you?” Tattingstong asked.

  “Where else?” A large gulp.

  “I do understand your flight then. I always make myself scarce when my own mother comes to call and she is nothing compared to . . .” Tattingstong let his words trail off.

  “Don’t be afraid of insulting either of the dowager duchesses. I know your words are true and my mother would probably take pride in them. And who knows what my grandmother thinks? I don’t believe she considers me worthy of her thoughts.”

  Tattingstong did not reply, but nodded his acceptance of Robert’s statement. The dowager duchess, Robert’s mother, had never been an easy woman and since his father’s death had been even less so. She had not relished giving up her power as duchess and to this day continued to fight for it.

  “Are you not expected to be home to greet them?”

  Robert glanced at the clock on the high mantel and considered. His presence was not required. The ladies would arrive in a flurry of trunks and spend the rest of the day making themselves situated. His only purpose would be to listen to their complaints—that seemed to always be his purpose where his mother was concerned.

  But if he weren’t there, then his mother would turn her complaints on Kathryn. Kathryn would never say a word to him about it and would manage each complaint in her usual practical manner. Everything would be perfect when he got home.

  With Kathryn things were always perfect—at least everything but him.

  He looked across the table at Tattingstong who was beckoning Smits over. The man looked much too satisfied, satisfied in a way he couldn’t remember feeling in over a year. “You are correct. I had best be on my way. I am sure my mother will be anxious to greet me.” She wouldn’t be, but it might spare Kathryn some bother.

  Tattingstong turned back to him and lost the look of satisfaction. He hesitated and then stated, “Actually, I’d come to ask you a favor.”

  That could be interesting. “Yes?”

  “You know, of course, that my wife, that Lady Tattingstong, is new to town.”

  “Yes.” New to the whole country, more like it. What had Tattingstong been thinking of, marrying an American—even if her family did own enough lumber to rebuild the fleet?

  “Well—umm . . . Annabelle, that is, Lady Tattingstong, is having a difficult time—a less than easy time—finding her way through the society we move in. I wondered if perhaps you could ask the duchess to invite her to tea with a few friends and help to smooth the way a bit. I hadn’t thought of asking, but then I saw a print of them together and . . .”

  “Yes, I have seen the print. Brooks showed me this morning. I am not certain I really understand what its purpose is.” He paused, “And I am just not sure about asking my wife to extend an invitation. I’ve never tried to suggest to my duchess who her friends should be. I’ve always found that women understand some code we will never comprehend. And besides Lady Tattingstong is—is . . .”

  “ . . . is American? Believe me, I know. That’s all I ever hear from my mother. Why does nobody ever mention that her grandfather was the second son of a duke who left to make his fortune—and succeeded? Her grandmother’s bloodlines were impeccable as well. Why does nobody ever mention that?”

  “Well . . .” Robert hesitated, unsure what else to say to his friend. He didn’t personally mind Americans, but he wasn’t sure that he would have married one—not that he’d ever wanted to marry anyone besides Kathryn.

  If Kathryn were here, she’d know what to say. Kathryn always had the correct reply. She was also always kind and gracious. Still, he hesitated.

  “Please, Robert. I need you to do this for me.”

  Robert raised his head and stared hard at Tattingstong. He hadn’t been called by his first name since they were schoolboys—small boys who’d decided to all be the same by putting aside their honor titles when alone. “It means that much to you?”

  “It means the world to me.”

  “All I can do is ask Kathryn. I will not pressure her.”

  “That is all I ask.”

  Chapter Two

  “Is it really that bad?” Robert asked as he observed his wife at the top of the stairs. There was nothing to obviously display her unhappiness, but he could see the tension in her shoulders and in that little line that settled between her eyes.

  Kathryn turned to him, one hand grasping the railing. Her face relaxed, but he could see that it cost effort. She took a step down toward him. “No, nothing is wrong. Whatever could be wrong?”

  He glanced towards the parlor. He’d seen the swish of his mother’s skirts as he entered. He took a couple of steps closer to Kathryn and spoke softly. “I know that having guests can be tiring.”

  She moved further down the stairs, her skirts winding about her long legs. Her gown was a soft lilac. It was higher cut than he liked, her breasts hidden almost completely from his view. He longed for the days when a lucky man could catch the pink edge of a nipple—not that Kathryn had ever been so daring. But mystery had its own allure. And she’d certainly been worth waiting for on those rare occasions that she’d granted him a glance. He shifted, uncomfortable, as his mind filled with the image of her delicate peach-tipped breast—just the perfect size for his hands and . . . No, that was fantasy. She’d never indicated any desire for . . .

  He forced his wandering mind back to the present. She must not have changed for dinner yet. That explained the high-necked dress. God, she was beautiful. Every time he saw her his breath caught anew. He’d wanted her since the first moment he’d seen her across a ballroom, and his desire was no less now. If only—

  “It would not be so tiring if you joined us for dinner. You could provide quite the distraction.” Kathryn said, her voice low, as if sharing a secret. He’d always loved that about her, her ability to create a bubble fitting just the two of them. “I know your mother would love to see more of you. She is not too weary from her travels.”

  “You mean she would love to complain to me—and about me.” Reality settled more firmly about him. He glanced toward the parlor. The private bubble popped—he would not put it past his mother to be listening at the door. “Every time I approach her it just seems to rile her up. It only took five minutes this afternoon for her to turn redder than an apple. I fear that I only make it more difficult for all when I am here.”

  “I can assure you, your grace, that you do not.” She stepped closer, her sweet floral scent wafting about.

  Two years and he still wasn’t sure what she smelled of. Rose? No. Lavender? No. Honeysuckle? “Have I displeased you too, Kathryn? You normally call me Robert.”

  There were only a few feet between them now. Kathryn’s eyes seemed to measure the space. Before they were married, she would have rushed across it and thrown herself into his arms. He would have clasped her tight, feeling every inch of her delectable body pressed against his, the scent of a sunshine-filled meadow rising from her hair. He might even have dared to nibble her ear, her perfect little shell-like ear. He could almost feel its curves against his lips, imagine . . .

  But that had been before they were married, and certainly before . . .

  Kathryn placed a hand upon his sleeve, her touch lighter than a butterfly’s kiss. “No, you have not displeased me. I believe I have merely been speaking with your mother and grandmother for too long, the endless ‘your graces’ are filling my head.”

  “Then you are displeased. Not that I blame you. I truly am busy this evening, but I admit to not be sorry for it.” He took a hal
f step closer, waiting to see if she would retreat.

  She stayed still, her feet planted. “Then you really must be away for dinner?”

  “Yes, I am afraid so.”

  She took a half step back and then moved forward again. “And after?”

  Did she know what she promised when she puckered her lips like that? No, he knew that she did not. Why had he fallen in love with an innocent woman? A woman he seemed bound to hurt? He looked away: sometimes not looking at her was the only way to keep his control. Perhaps he should seek out a mistress. He’d probably scare Kathryn half to death if he acted on even a few of the thoughts that filled his mind when she was so close. “I planned to stay at the club for a few hands of cards. Lord Richard Tennant will be stopping by.”

  “Oh.” She dropped her gaze from his, her shoulders slumped slightly. Then her head rose again. “Mr. Johns informed me that we’ve received some new port. Perhaps you would like to come by my room for a glass when you return?” She inched even closer, her face shining with faith and hope—but not desire, never desire.

  Why did she not desire him? Other women wanted him. Oh, Kathryn was not unwilling, but she made it clear that it was her duty, both to bed him and to bear him a son.

  God, another pregnancy! How could he do that to her? How could he do that to himself? He knew that both she—and his mother—were right that he did need a son, but—but that could wait. They had plenty of time. When she stopped looking at him with such shadows of pain, then they could think about it. “I will be back late. It would be a shame for you to wait up. Why don’t you have Mr. Johns leave me a glass by my bed.”

  “I will do that.” Her voice was very small and he could see her wilt like an unwatered flower in the summer sun. And then she stroked his arm, looking up high into his eyes. “Take care, Robert. I will entertain your mother and perhaps your grandmother.”

  “I know you will.” He wanted to say something, do something. “I spoke with the Tattingstong today. He was wondering if you might have his wife to tea. She seems in need of company.”

  She looked up, her eyes still shadowed. “Is it about that horrid print in all the store windows? I hope you were not too upset by it.”

  “No, not at all. How could I be upset by anything that makes you look so beautiful? I am only bothered if it worried you.”

  Her lips turned up in an attempt at a smile. “No, I will be fine. I’ve just never been featured in anything like it before.”

  “I know.” He wanted to reach out and give her the hug she so badly needed but did not wish to risk her stiffening beneath his touch. Kathryn had rarely been one for physical expression.

  She squeezed his arm lightly, as if trying to reassure him. “I will have tea with those you wish and do my best to befriend them.”

  He jerked back, her kindness hitting him low. She was trying to help and all he could think about was how easy it would be to pull her into his arms, to crush her to him. He really was an animal where his wife was concerned.

  She froze as he pulled away, her eyes clouding over—was that pain he saw? Then she collected herself, and when she spoke, her voice was firmer than he’d heard in months. “Yes, Robert, I will entertain your mother and grandmother. I will be a friend with those you wish.” Then she softened as if holding strong were too exhausting, and when she spoke, it was with great care, quiet and precise. “But please remember, I am not endless. I always thought I was but I begin to feel my edges.”

  Her gazed dropped.

  Why did he keep hurting her? Sometimes it seemed that she saw that inner beast he worked so hard to keep hidden. It was always the last thing he intended and yet it seemed hopeless. From the moment of their wedding, or at least their wedding night, he seemed bound to cause her injury. He’d always avoided innocents before her. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, but it had left him with no knowledge of how to help the scared young maiden he’d found in his bed that night.

  Her fingers were cold where they still held him. They’d been like icicles on his wedding night. Her whole body had been frozen, stiff unmoving ice. He’d worked hard not to hurt her and by and large thought he had succeeded, but the ice had remained.

  He did not think she was frigid—merely unknowing. But then she’d gotten with child so quickly and been so ill. He’d come to bed so many times to hold her, but she always seemed to expect the act when he slipped between her sheets. She’d lie there pale and ill and it was all he could do to complete what was expected of him.

  “I know you are not endless, Kathryn.” The words felt torn from his chest. “I see you clearly defined. I am sorry that I seem so prone to pushing at your boundaries. I know I have a habit of taking all that is given. I will try to do better. And know I must leave. Lord Richard will be waiting.” He pulled from her fingers, and grabbing his hat, prepared to leave.

  “Robert, I didn’t mean . . .”

  And he couldn’t let it stop at that. He turned back to her. “Kathryn, let us just get through these days while my mother is here. I do not want to make decisions while she is about. Perhaps, when she is gone, we can head to the country for a few days. A few days with only the two of us. How does that sound?”

  Her soft, worried smile was all the answer he needed.

  “Oh, I am so pleased that you could come on such short notice.” Kathryn rose to greet her guest. Linnette, the Dowager Duchess of Doveshire, had been her friend since before she could remember. They had first met walking, or in her case perhaps toddling, in the park with their nurses and had been inseparable ever since. What she needed to discuss now, however, was far from their childhood ramblings.

  She’d felt so barren, in so many ways, after Robert had left last night. Her whole life had stretched before her filled with nothing but one pleasant, insincere smile after another. She’d tried with Robert and failed. She’d invited him to her bed and he’d refused. What was left but unfelt smiles?

  And then she’d thought of Linnette—Linnette with her lush body, and husky laugh, with her deep copper curls always dancing in fun. Linnette was a lady, nobody doubted that, but she still carried with her that mysterious quality of—of—there must be a word for that look that told a man she wanted him and wanted him now. Linnette shone with desire, and desirability, and yet always stayed well within the boundaries of decorum.

  If anybody could help her, it was Linnette.

  She stared at her friend, caught between discomfort and eagerness. “I’ve been sitting here fretting that you wouldn’t be able to come. I know you said you didn’t know how long you’d need to stay at Lady Smythe-Burke’s. I do know it can be difficult to leave.”

  “I can see the worry upon your face, my dear. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen you looking so flustered. Your cheeks are positively flushed—and you haven’t even taken the time to compliment me on my dress. Do you know how difficult it was to find rose silk that did not clash with my carrot-colored hair? And may I say that shade of green is delightful on you. Oh dear, are you truly that upset by this silly print? You don’t even smile. I can’t think what else you’d need to talk to me about so urgently. I can understand why you would find being displayed in public uncomfortable, but is it truly this upsetting?”

  Kathryn felt her face heat further. “You know your hair is lovely. And the dress is delicious. Forgive me for not mentioning it. I admit to being quite troubled by the print. One never does know where these things will lead, but that was not why I asked you here early. I was hoping you would come to tea again tomorrow when Annie and Elizabeth can also attend and we can talk about it then. I’ve even sent an invitation to the Marchioness of Tattingstong. I have another matter that I wish to discuss now.”

  “Nothing too troubling, I hope.”

  Shifting from foot to foot Kathryn fought for the words. “Nothing troubling, merely uncomfortable and perhaps embarrassing.”

  “Oh dear, I do hope I haven’t done anything.” Linnette looked her straight in the eye, as steadfast and hon
est as ever.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. I just have some questions I need answered and I don’t know who else to turn to.” Kathryn could only hope she was not as red as she felt. Her cheeks felt hot enough to cook griddlecakes.

  “Then here I am. And forgive me for taking your place, but do you think we could perhaps be seated?” Linnette looked over at the well-cushioned settee.

  Kathryn had never forgotten to offer a guest a seat in her life. Drawing in a calming breath, she gestured to a seat on the settee and took the other spot, wishing with all her heart that she knew how to begin this exchange.

  Linnette reached over and took her hand. “It really cannot be that bad. Or, looking at your face, perhaps it is. Come on, out with it.”

  Kathryn pulled a breath deep into her lungs until it felt as if she’d pop through her corset.

  One. Two. Three.

  “I want to know how to please my husband.” There, it was out.

  Chapter Three

  “You want to please your husband.” Linnette spoke slowly, “Surely you know that the time to please a man is before he proposes. After the wedding it is his job to please you—or at least to ignore your shopping. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I didn’t realize how serious you are. You need to explain more—what do you mean by pleasing your husband, and perhaps even more importantly, why do you care? Is he acting badly towards you? Have you displeased him in some way?”

  So perhaps it wasn’t quite out. Kathryn wasn’t even sure she had the vocabulary to describe what she needed to know. “The duke hasn’t come to my bed in three months—and not often before that since—well, you can guess what since. I tried last night and he refused. He was quite polite, but he definitely refused.”

  “Have you ever refused him?”

  “No, never. I have on occasion let him know when I was—was indisposed.” This was harder than she had ever imagined. “I would never refuse him. I know my duty.”