‘The chance would be a fine thing,’ he muttered beneath his breath, then spoke out loud, ‘What difference can Lottie’s marriage make to Kathryn?’
Mrs Marchant cheeks grew rather red from excitement. ‘Why, if Lottie has already caught herself a husband, and we distance ourselves from Kathryn, then any damage that attaches itself to her reputation will not affect us.’
‘She is still our niece.’
‘We will publicly disown her. And with Lottie safely wed and sent to Bristol, then what harm can Kathryn do us?’
‘Then I can cease this pathetic charade of illness in an attempt to lure the girl here?’
‘Yes.’ Anna Marchant beamed. ‘We no longer need coax the little trollop back to London with us.’ That had only been to please Amanda White and that woman had just been rendered powerless. She laughed aloud at the good fortune Harry Silverton had brought them.
‘Hallelujah,’ said Mr Marchant with sarcasm.
‘You must concentrate on persuading Mr Silverton to London. He needs to visit Doctors’ Commons as soon as possible—and come to Green Street with a special licence in his pocket. If we play our cards right, we should have Lottie married by next week. And then I can turn my attentions to Kathryn. I’ll send her a note today telling of your unexpected recovery and that we have to leave Brighthelmstone. Do you know that I actually had to apologise to the little bitch the other day? How I’m longing to make her suffer for that. She’s made her bed, and now I mean to make sure that she damn well lies in it. By the time I’ve finished, Kathryn Marchant will wish that she’d never been born.’
Less than a fortnight later and Lady Maybury was proving to be as demanding as ever. The two women sat at the breakfast table, the dowager consuming a second helping of ham and eggs, Kathryn sipping her coffee and reading aloud from the notices in The Times. Of Ravensmede there was no sign. Kathryn was trying hard to keep her thoughts from his possible whereabouts when one particular marriage announcement caught her attention. Her words faltered. The coffee cup stilled its motion halfway to her mouth.
Lady Maybury glanced up from her plate. ‘Pray continue with the next one. I want to see if Mrs Pearsall’s granddaughter’s marriage to young Fox is in there.’
With exaggerated care Kathryn set the coffee cup down upon the table. There was the tiniest of pauses, and then she started to read again. ‘On Friday June 25, at her father’s house in Green Street, by the Reverend J. Blundell, Charlotte, only daughter of Mr and Mrs Henry Marchant of London, to Mr Harold Silverton, only son of Mr and Mrs James Silverton of Bristol.’ Lottie had married Harry Silverton!
‘Good gad!’ exclaimed Lady Maybury. ‘I thought they only met at that wretched dance the other week.’
‘They did, but it was immediately apparent that their interests were captured.’
‘Well, never you mind, Kathryn. He’s a nincompoop. Showed his true colours when he came round here, brandishing that pistol in m’face. You’ll catch better than him. Mark my words.’
‘I don’t understand.’ Kathryn’s brow rumpled in perplexity. ‘Aunt Anna was different the last time we spoke. She seemed changed: softer, kinder somehow. She wanted to put the past behind us, to start anew. And then when she sent that letter telling of my uncle’s sudden recovery and their intended return to London, she made no mention of Mr Silverton. I thought…’ She shook her head. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘You thought what? That your aunt would at least inform you of your cousin’s wedding?’
‘I should know her better than that,’ said Kathryn.
‘So you should. A leopard doesn’t change its spots,’ replied the dowager, giving Kathryn a strange little look. ‘What a surprise that your aunt was up to organising a wedding so soon after Mr Marchant’s recent illness. But then the speed of your poor dear uncle’s recovery was truly miraculous. Such a shame I couldn’t spare you to visit him…’ She raised her eyebrows with just the faintest suggestion of cynicism, before turning her attention once more to her breakfast plate. ‘Now read the rest of the announcements before m’eggs grow cold.’
The first leg of the journey back to London was, as Kathryn expected, both slow and tedious. There was little conversation between the ladies as Lady Maybury managed to sleep almost continuously with no regard for the jolting of the carriage. Despite his recent injury Lord Ravensmede accompanied the carriage on horseback, the thud of his horse’s hooves never far away.
He watched her pale face at the carriage window.
She studied the dark figure that rode so close by.
Green eyes met grey, again and again, binding the man and his woman together, promising what was to come.
She worried as to his arm, and that he should be riding.
He worried as to why she should look so anxious when he meant to claim her for his own.
Mile after mile. So close as to almost touch, so near as to almost whisper. Yet they could do nothing. By the time the coach entered into the yard of the King’s Arms at Horley Common, the tension between them was unbearable. The party was shown to their bedchambers, given some little time to refresh their travel-stained selves, then the landlord showed them to a private parlour and dinner was served.
At the first opportunity Ravensmede addressed himself to Kathryn, ‘How did you find the first part of your journey?’
‘Comfortable, thank you, my lord.’
‘Don’t lie,’ interrupted the dowager between mouthfuls of salmon and boiled potatoes. ‘It was damnably uncomfortable. It was all I could do to manage the briefest of naps. You really must have that carriage seen to, Nick.’
‘I will do so upon our arrival in town,’ he replied.
A silence descended upon the little group.
Kathryn poked at the small mound of potatoes on her plate, and tried not to look at Nicholas. She could feel the burn of his gaze upon her, could feel her face colour beneath his scrutiny. Surely the dowager would notice if he continued to stare so? She sought to distract her employer. ‘My lady, how do you find the fish? Is it to your taste?’
Lady Maybury shovelled a large portion of the salmon steak into her mouth before replying. ‘I’m afraid to say that it’s barely edible. When one’s appetite is as fragile as mine, it’s important that only the best quality of food be consumed.’ A large swig of wine passed her lips. ‘The potatoes are hard, the pie is lacking in flavour and the soup is too poor to comment upon. I’m forced to nibble upon a meagre portion to sustain my strength.’ The shrewd pale eyes swept over Kathryn’s barely touched food. ‘You would be wise to do the same, my dear, for our journey tomorrow will be as long as today and you heard what the landlord said of the weather.’
‘It’s going to rain,’ supplied her companion quietly, and ate a little more of the pie.
Ravensmede drew a mocking smile at his grandmother. ‘Perhaps then you will agree to let me travel awhile inside the carriage, instead of banishing me to the road.’
‘The fresh air is good for you, boy,’ she said. ‘Besides, I thought you enjoyed riding.’
He raised an eyebrow and glanced across at Kathryn, before refilling all three glasses with claret.
Kathryn concentrated on watching the pale red liquid slosh against the glass. Within her chest her heart had kicked up to a canter. She ignored it, along with the peculiar battle of wills that seemed to be going on between Ravensmede and his grandmother. ‘May I suggest an early night, my lady. You must be very tired and tomorrow will be more fatiguing than today.’
For once the dowager appeared to be in agreement. With a shrewd expression she patted Kathryn’s hand. ‘Go on ahead, gel. I shall not be long. Just want to finish m’wine, then I’ll be up.’
Kathryn nodded and began to rise, but Nicholas was there before her. ‘I’ll escort Miss Marchant to her room.’
The blush in Kathryn’s cheeks intensified. The flurry of her heart hastened. One glance up into those green eyes that glowed so bright beneath the flickering flame of the candles
and she froze, for there was everything of intimacy and possession in Nicholas’s gaze. It was as if a hand reached in and squeezed Kathryn’s heart. ‘Really, there is no need, my lord.’ She felt his fingers brush her arm, felt too the instinctive sway of her body towards his. ‘I—’
The dowager interrupted. ‘Kathryn is right, Nick. Besides, I want a word with you.’ She fixed a belligerent eye upon her grandson.
Kathryn’s eyes shuttered for the briefest moment. Every nerve in her body was vibrating and taut. What she had feared was about to pass. For Kathryn could not shake the unassailable conviction that Lady Maybury knew. As surely as they were sitting here within the little parlour, as surely as the attraction that flowed between Nicholas and herself, the dowager knew. Why else was the tension wound so tight between the three of them? Dread weighed heavy on her chest. She rose swiftly to her feet, unwilling for either Lady Maybury or Lord Ravensmede to witness her fear. ‘Thank you, my lady.’ With every last scrap of dignity that Kathryn possessed she turned and, without a backward glance, walked quietly from the room.
‘Well?’ said the dowager.
‘Well?’ said her grandson.
‘Enough is enough, Nicholas. Don’t think to fob me off this time with some tale of “there’s nothing going on”. I’m not in m’dotage yet, and I’d have to be deaf, blind and stupid not to see what’s right in front of m’very nose.’
‘I have not compromised her, nor do I intend to,’ said Ravensmede.
‘You came damn near to doing so. If it ever gets out that she visited you alone in your bedchamber, then I can assure you that she’ll be well and truly ruined…and even I won’t be able to save her.’
Ravensmede was genuinely shocked. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew. What do you take me for, some kind of gibbering idiot? You’ve been looking at her like you’re going to eat her. Why else do you think I’ve had to resort to guarding the gel night and day? Shouldn’t have to do it from m’own grandson.’
His fingers raked through his hair. ‘It’s not what you think.’
‘It’s everything that I think and more. Hell’s teeth, Nick, I thought you had some semblance of care for her. Couldn’t you have just kept your breeches on for once?’
‘They’ve never been off,’ he protested, and then he remembered that he had been wearing his nightshirt the day that Kathryn had come to his bedchamber.
A snowy white eyebrow raised and a faded green eye stared hard.
‘You’re much mistaken, Grandmama.’
‘Faugh! I know a seduction when I see one.’
‘Grandmama,’ He pushed the glass away.
‘You might not have a care for the gel, Nick, but I’ll be damned if I just sit back and let you ruin her in a public inn of all places, and make a fool of me in the process.’ The faded eyes flashed their angry determination.
He lounged back in his chair. ‘Contrary to what you think, I care very much for Kathryn,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you honestly think I would seek to ruin the lady whom I mean to make my wife?’
Lady Maybury’s jaw gaped. ‘Did you say wife?’
‘Most certainly so.’
‘I had no idea.’
‘Evidently not.’
‘But…’ The dowager shook her head in disbelief, unable to finish what she had started. A silence grew between them, and then, at last, Lady Maybury asked, ‘Does Kathryn know of your intentions?’
Ravensmede’s mouth crooked. ‘For some strange reason I have been unable to find Miss Marchant alone these past weeks to ask her.’
‘Well, I wasn’t to know. I thought you were planning on bedding her!’ said his grandmother indignantly.
‘So you won’t be insisting on my riding tomorrow?’
‘Only if you behave yourself,’ said the dowager. ‘You aren’t home and dry yet. Better have a care until the ring’s on her finger.’
‘You’re taking the news remarkably well.’
‘I find myself resolved to the situation. She might be m’companion and without a penny to her name, but she’s got breeding; anyone with an eye in their head can see that. Besides, I like the gel. She’s good for you.’
Ravensmede set his napkin down on the table. ‘I’m glad we agree.’
‘However, there is Miss Paton to consider.’
‘Any possibility of an alliance between Miss Paton and me existed only in m’father’s head.’
‘Your father won’t agree.’
‘So much the better.’ He paused. ‘My father might protest, but he’ll be relieved that I’ve chosen to marry at all.’
‘If you say so, Nick. But the sooner you tell him about Kathryn the better.’
Ravensmede smiled, but gave no reply.
‘You know, of course, there’s bound to be gossip. It’s not every day one’s grandson marries one’s companion.’
‘There’s always gossip.’
‘Not about my family there isn’t!’ The dowager peered haughtily at him.
Ravensmede laughed. ‘The tabbies wouldn’t dare discuss my misdemeanours in your presence, Grandmama. They’re really rather afraid of you.’
‘I don’t know why!’ she snorted, but the glimmer of a smile touched to her lips. Then the smile faded. ‘If you marry her, you’ll find yourself related to Henry and Anna Marchant. You cannot alter the fact that they are her uncle and aunt.’
‘The Marchants have no part in Kathryn’s life now, nor will they do so in the future. I mean to see to that.’
‘Then, your mind’s made up.’
‘Yes, Grandmama, my mind’s made up.’
They looked at one another in silence for a moment.
‘To Kathryn, the future Viscountess of Ravensmede.’
Clink of glasses in a toast, and then the wine was drained, and the small private parlour stood empty.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, when it came time to depart, Ravensmede was in the process of escorting Kathryn and his grandmother out to the waiting carriage when they came face to face with a lady and gentleman known to them from London.
‘Mr and Mrs Parker.’ Ravensmede bowed politely.
Ernest Parker’s chubby cheeks took on a ruddy hue. ‘Lord Ravensmede, Lady Maybury. Arrived last night from town, travelling down for a brief sojourn in Brighthelmstone. Emily has a notion to try one of those bathing contraptions.’ His wife’s head nodded in the most peculiar manner and she seemed to be having difficulty in meeting the Viscount’s gaze.
‘We too have been enjoying the delights of Brighthelmstone.’ The dowager smiled. ‘May I introduce my companion, Miss Marchant.’ An elderly hand of surprising strength thrust Kathryn forward.
Emily Parker’s expression froze into one of horror. For one awkward minute there was silence. Then, without even so much as a glance in Kathryn’s direction, Mrs Parker grabbed her husband’s arm in a lock that would have crushed a smaller man, and announced, ‘Dear Lady Maybury, I’m afraid we really must leave. Please do excuse us.’ And with that she practically ran across the courtyard, dragging her husband in her wake.
Ernest Parker cast a silent appeal at Lord Ravensmede. ‘Your servant, sir,’ came the gruff utterance as he disappeared into the carriage.
‘Well, of all the most ninny-headed females, Emily Parker must take the biscuit!’ said Lady Maybury with a scowl. ‘Such an appalling lack of manners, I’m not surprised she’s not invited anywhere of consequence.’
Ravensmede cast a curious look at the Parkers’ carriage, but the door had been shut and the curtain closed across the window.
The dowager’s breast puffed dangerously towards high dudgeon. ‘How dare she slight m’companion. Kathryn’s got more breeding in her little toe than that creature shall ever have!’
‘My lady,’ cajoled Kathryn from the lady’s side, ‘I’m not in the least offended. No doubt it is still too early in the morning for Mrs Parker.’
Lady Maybury seemed marginally calmed by Kathryn’s words and allowed h
erself to be steered across the yard to the waiting carriage.
The landlord’s predictions concerning the weather proved to be true. The day was quite the foulest that the summer had seen. Blustery cold winds and one heavy rain shower after the other slowed their journey considerably. The roads were muddied and filled with expanding puddles, the sky grey and forbidding with rain.
In contrast to her behaviour of the past fortnight, Lady Maybury showed not the slightest objection to her grandson sitting within the carriage beside her and her companion. Indeed, she positively encouraged Lord Ravensmede’s presence, something of which Kathryn could only be glad on seeing the deterioration in the weather conditions. And rather than keeping a close scrutiny upon his person as she had taken to doing of late, the dowager was not five minutes into the journey when she fell asleep beneath her mound of travelling rugs. The snuffle of her snore competed with the rumble of the wheels and the pounding of the horses’ hooves.
Kathryn looked at Nicholas.
Nicholas looked at Kathryn sitting at Lady Maybury’s side.
He seeming to fill the whole of the carriage with his presence just by sitting on the seat opposite.
‘At last,’ he said.
Kathryn’s gaze flickered towards the dowager.
‘My grandmother is an extremely heavy sleeper.’
A tremor of panic fluttered through her.
Something of her feelings must have shown on her face, for Lord Ravensmede moved back to lounge against the squabs. ‘I only wish to speak to you.’ The smouldering intensity in his green eyes sent a shiver of anticipation from the top of her head down to the very tips of her toes. He did not look like he wanted to talk to her. Everything about his long lean body seemed poised to pull her into his arms and ravage her mouth with his. A lazy lop-sided smile spread across his face and he stretched out his legs so that his booted shins brushed against her skirt.
She waited.
‘When you came to my bedchamber in Brighthelmstone—’
‘Nicholas…’ Her throat was dry and his name little more than a whisper. Her eyes flicked nervously towards the sleeping form of the dowager. ‘We do not need to discuss this.’
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