A Simple Lady

by Carolynn Carey

  Kenrick jumped from his chair and began pacing in front of the windows. “As you no doubt have seen for yourself, my mother is very gullible. She has lived secluded for much of her life and is unable to judge when she is being exploited by others. She has grown to love you in a very short period of time and has tried to assure me that you are not the manipulator I believe you to be. However, I know from experience that my mother sees only good in even the most heinous of personalities. For example, she has adored my cousin Gerald for years, despite the fact that Gerald is naught but a troublemaker.”

  Elizabeth frowned, wondering where this conversation was leading, but she decided to say nothing until she could judge her husband’s motives.

  “I mention my mother’s proclivity to see only good in other people because, madam, I want you to understand that while you have pulled the wool over her eyes, my own vision is unimpaired. I know you for what you are, but I am willing, for my mother’s sake, to allow you to stay in London and to take your place in society as my wife. My mother’s happiness means a great deal to me, and since you appear at the moment to make her happy, I shall tolerate your presence. However, should you at any time begin exhibiting behavior that upsets her, I will bundle you into a carriage and send you straight back to Cramdon Cottage. Is that clear?”

  Elizabeth took a deep breath while suppressing a strong desire to stand and slap her husband full in the face. The man had judged her on scant evidence, found her wanting, and sentenced her to a lifetime of open hostility. But her personality had been forged in the fires of hostilities more hurtful than his, and she was determined not to allow his distrust to undo her. She stood, a smile of feigned complacency lifting the corners of her lips, and silently prayed she could respond without stuttering. “Yes, my lord, you have made yourself quite clear. Was there anything else you wished to speak to me about? If not, your mother is waiting for me to accompany her to the milliner’s.”

  The marquess had moved away from the window, enabling Elizabeth to view the full scope of his scowl. When she merely opened her eyes a bit wider and continued to smile, he sighed and shook his head.

  “No, madam, there is nothing else at the moment.”

  “Then if you will excuse me…” With a slight curtsy Elizabeth turned and walked toward the door. She was already lifting the latch when her husband spoke again.

  “I hope you do not think, madam, that you have gained the upper hand in this little game you have initiated.”

  Elizabeth turned slowly, her smile fading. “Excuse my ignorance, my lord,” she said, hoping her tone reflected the cold anger that had surged through her, “but I was unaware that I had initiated any game.”

  His lip curled. “On the contrary, I am sure you know exactly what you are doing.”

  “If so, my lord, that is m-m-more than you can say for yourself,” Elizabeth informed him before slipping through the door and closing it rather ungently behind her.

  Chapter Nine

  “Madam, might I have a word with you?”

  Startled, Elizabeth looked up from her breakfast plate and into the scowling face of her husband. Dressed for a morning ride, he stood in the doorway of the breakfast parlor, his right hand thrust behind his back, his left hand clenched into a fist at his side. He reminded Elizabeth of a storm cloud about to explode.

  “Certainly, my l-l-lord,” she said, quickly closing the book she had propped open beside her plate and easing it into the chair beside her. It was peculiar, she was thinking, that her heartbeat always accelerated whenever Kenrick was near. She had not thought herself so timid. But perhaps this morning she had a right to be. Obviously something had happened to infuriate him, and she feared she was about to find out what that something was.

  “Does this, perchance, belong to you?”

  Elizabeth inhaled swiftly as Kenrick abruptly swung his right hand forward and held up for her inspection a small yellow kitten.

  Kenrick was holding Apollo by the scruff of his neck and at arm’s length, so that the kitten’s legs dangled ungracefully in space. Only Apollo’s spirit appeared unaffected by his helpless position. He was hissing ferociously at his captor.

  “Oh no,” Elizabeth murmured, sliding her chair back abruptly and jumping to her feet to rush around the table. “What has Apollo done?”

  “Apollo?” the marquess repeated, even as a glint of amusement crept into his eyes, supplanting the fury that had startled Elizabeth. Holding the kitten a bit higher, he smiled ruefully and, with raised eyebrows, quoted softly: “The fire-rob’d god, Golden Apollo.”

  Glancing into her husband’s face, Elizabeth saw there his fond smile and breathed a silent sigh of relief. She had been reaching for Apollo but quickly dropped her hand. It would obviously be best to allow the kitten time to weave his own spells of enchantment.

  Kenrick was soon cuddling Apollo in his arms and gently rubbing the small yellow head. Apollo’s purrs were now as enthusiastic as his hisses had been just moments before. Kenrick chuckled. “A fickle fellow,” he said, looking at Elizabeth with a measure of complicity in his expression. “Is he yours?”

  “Yes. I found him in an apple tree near Cramdon Cottage and grew too fond of him to leave him behind when your mother and I came to London. I hope he is not making a pest of himself.”

  “Not at all,” Kenrick assured her quickly, a bit too quickly, Elizabeth feared. When he bent to set Apollo on the floor beside his feet, she could not help noting the scratches on what appeared to be new riding boots. She bit her lip but then relaxed when her husband smiled while watching the kitten dash up beside her chair to investigate a few stray crumbs. Then his gaze shifted from the kitten back to her. “Forgive me. I have interrupted your breakfast. Please be seated again.”

  For reasons she couldn’t analyze, Elizabeth felt heat rising to color her cheeks so she quickly turned and hurried back to her place at the table. “Shall I ring for fresh tea?” she asked a bit breathlessly. When Kenrick smiled and nodded, she gulped, not only surprised that he would agree but also puzzled by her body’s reaction to his presence. When had she stopped disliking him so much? Or was she being naïve and letting a mere smile charm her into letting down her guard? In either case, she knew she must watch herself very carefully. Developing a tendre for her husband was the last thing she needed.

  * * *

  Kenrick had surprised himself by accepting his wife’s invitation. His intentions when he entered the breakfast parlor had certainly not included sitting down at the table with his wife. But the kitten had mellowed his mood, and Elizabeth was looking unusually attractive this morning. Her soft brown curls were drawn back from her face, emphasizing the fine bone structure that enhanced a clear complexion and deep brown eyes. The color of her morning dress, obviously from one of the finest dressmakers in London, reminded Kenrick of springtime violets.

  “Your eggs have surely grown cold by now,” he said, wrenching his gaze from his wife and picking up a plate from the sideboard where numerous covered dishes awaited his pleasure. “May I serve you something warm?”

  “Thank you, no,” Elizabeth said softly, pushing her plate to one side. Her eyes had grown larger at his question, and he couldn’t help wondering what direction her thoughts were taking. His curiosity was piqued, and he decided to take his time over breakfast and see what he could discover about his wife’s preferences.

  After leisurely filling his plate, he seated himself in a chair directly opposite Elizabeth and looked across the table at her. “I noticed you were reading when I came in. May I be permitted to know what author keeps you so enthralled that you read while you eat?”

  “I always read while I eat,” Elizabeth informed him. She caught and held his gaze, apparently watching for some sign from him. When he merely raised his brows to indicate his interest, she continued. “That is, I read when I am eating alone, especially at breakfast. It is a bad habit, I fear, but one I developed many years ago and cannot seem to break.”

  Kenrick smiled.
“Not such an extremely bad habit, I hope, since it is one in which I frequently indulge. Of course, I usually read the newspaper. Do you prefer novels? If so, you must not assume I will condescend to you. Unlike some of my sex, I have no objection to novels. To denigrate one category of writing because it is lighter than another seems illogical to me. Such reasoning would be synonymous to rejecting bread at dinner because it is lighter than meat. A well-rounded person would indulge in both.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened again, and a smile appeared to tug at the corners of her lips. “I admire your philosophy on reading, my lord. I agree, and while I enjoy an occasional novel, today I’m indulging my love of Shakespeare by re-reading one of my favorite plays.”

  “May I ask which one?”

  Elizabeth pulled in a deep breath. “A Winter’s Tale.”

  Kenrick could not subdue a wide grin. “A convenient coincidence,” he said.

  “Yes,” Elizabeth agreed, also grinning. “It’s fortunate that I’m re-reading that particular play. Otherwise, I might not have recognized your quotation about Golden Apollo.”

  “Oh? Then Shakespeare didn’t inspire your name for yon marauding kitten?” Kenrick nodded toward a chair at the end of the table. Apollo had managed to clamber into it and, by stretching mightily, had planted his front paws on the edge of the table. His eyes could be seen just above the table top, greedily surveying Elizabeth’s plate.

  “No,” Elizabeth said, frowning nervously at Apollo while wishing the kitten’s memory was more adaptable to circumstances. She could not feed him from her plate this morning with her husband looking on. Darting a glance at Kenrick, Elizabeth saw he was watching her with what appeared to be amusement in his eyes. Biting her lip and flinging one last warning glare in Apollo’s direction, Elizabeth quickly picked up the thread of the conversation she had abandoned. “You were asking why I chose the name of Apollo. You see, I have always enjoyed mythology, and Apollo was one of my favorite gods.”

  Hearing his name being bandied about at the breakfast table was clearly invitation enough for Apollo. With a robust lunge, he propelled himself to the top of the table and made a dash for Kenrick’s plate.

  “No Apollo,” Elizabeth yelled. She jumped to her feet and threw herself onto the table in a desperate attempt to catch Apollo before he could nab Kenrick’s kidneys. She was too late. Apollo grabbed his prize and jumped into the floor just as Elizabeth flattened herself on the table, both arms stretched toward her husband’s plate.

  Kenrick had been too amused to attempt to intercept the kitten. Now he was delighted he had not. His wife lay stomach down on the table before him, her low-cut bodice revealing very charmingly the upper portions of two soft white mounds. He found he could not tear his eyes away from them.

  “Oh dear!” A blush moved rapidly from Elizabeth’s neck to her hairline as she pushed herself upright and dropped back into her chair. “I am so very sorry, my lord.”

  “What?” Kenrick asked. The thread of the conversation had almost escaped him. “Oh! The kitten! Think nothing of it, my dear. There were dozens of cats around the house when I was growing up. I find I often enjoy their antics.” Then, beneath his breath, he added, “Especially this morning.”

  Noting that Elizabeth’s face was still scarlet, he suppressed a smile, saying instead, “By the way, I was just about to go for a ride in the park. Would you care to join me?”

  Elizabeth’s widened eyes provided abundant evidence of her surprise at this unexpected invitation. Truth to tell, Kenrick was no less amazed than she appeared to be. He certainly had not intended to invite her to join him. No doubt, he assured himself, his unplanned actions arose from his desire to ease his wife’s embarrassment by changing the subject. In any case, he immediately followed his invitation by asking her if she liked to ride.

  “Oh yes,” Elizabeth responded. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I learned to ride on a plow horse when I was eight years old. The squire later invited me to join his daughters when they learned to ride, and he even provided a mount for me, very kindly claiming that any girl with a seat as good as mine deserved a decent mount.”

  Kenrick clenched his teeth. He should have known that her parents wouldn’t have bothered to ensure that she had a decent horse to ride. They’d neglected their daughter shamefully. Obviously the squire and his family had tried to take up the slack to some extent, which explained the squire’s presence at their wedding.

  Kenrick realized that he was indeed beginning to learn a bit about his wife, although he cautioned himself to be wary. There was still a very real possibility that she’d purposely led him to believe she was simpleminded when obviously she was not.

  And that thought led to his experiencing some regrets about inviting her to ride with him this morning. He generally preferred riding alone because he often did his clearest thinking while mounted on Solomon. On the other hand, he couldn’t help noting that his wife’s eyes had been brightened by an anticipatory glint, a bright sparkle that appeared to emphasize flecks of gold hitherto hidden amid the brown. He could no more have disappointed her than he could have chastised Apollo for snatching his kidneys. He smiled as though delighted with her acceptance. “In that case, I will send word to the stables to have mother’s mare, Missy, saddled for you.”

  Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “I’ll change into my riding habit and be ready in fifteen minutes,” she said. She dashed from the room, an eager smile lighting her face.

  Following Elizabeth’s hurried exit from the breakfast parlor, Kenrick retrieved her abandoned book, opened it to one of his favorite plays, and settled back for a long wait while his wife changed clothes. He was pleasantly surprised when she returned in less than twenty minutes attired in a chestnut riding habit with chocolate trim. A matching hat sat jauntily atop her curls. The last of Kenrick’s earlier regrets faded away.

  Ten minutes later he was forced to admit to himself that Elizabeth was one of the most pleasing riding companions he had ever known. Not only could she ride as though she had been born in a saddle, she also exhibited more common sense than most of Kenrick’s acquaintances. She made no attempt to initiate a conversation while they were negotiating the bustling streets leading to the park.

  Although the day was clear, the park was thin of company so early in the morning. “Would you like to canter?” Kenrick asked, turning in his saddle to smile at Elizabeth. “I would suggest a gallop but that, as you know, is forbidden.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “A canter would be lovely.”

  By the time they had worked the fidgets from Missy and Solomon, the park was beginning to fill up.

  “Kenrick!” A gentleman astride a showy bay approached, waving one elegantly gloved hand. “I had not expected to see you in town this summer. But no doubt you have good reasons for abandoning your usual summer activities.” The fellow eyed Elizabeth with open curiosity. His sly smile and roving gaze suggested that whatever he was thinking about her, it was not quite respectable.

  Kenrick pulled Solomon to a halt and responded coolly. “Davisson. I have not yet had the honor of introducing you to my wife, Lady Kenrick.”

  “Your wife!” Davisson’s tone expressed his astonishment. “But I thought your wife was—”

  “Was what?” Kenrick interrupted quickly. His narrowed eyes and cold gaze would have suggested to a slower wit than Davisson that care was needed in finishing that sentence.

  “I, eh,” Davisson continued, gulping, “I thought your wife was, eh, in the country.”

  “As you see, you were mistaken. Elizabeth, my dear, may I present the Earl of Davisson.”

  Elizabeth inclined her head. “My lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  Davisson responded suitably but shortly, appearing anxious to be on his way. He quickly said his goodbyes and trotted away, bouncing ungracefully in the saddle.

  As soon as they were once again alone, Kenrick turned to Elizabeth, concern clear in his eyes. “Have you met others in London who appear surpr
ised that you are capable of appearing in public?”

  Elizabeth averted her gaze and answered him shortly. “No, I have not.”

  Although he was not oblivious to the deepening furrow on his wife’s brow, Kenrick assured himself she was merely unhappy about Davisson’s behavior, not this discussion he was determined to continue. “I’m guessing that Mother’s friends concealed their surprise better than Davisson did. In all likelihood, everyone in town has heard some degree of gossip. It was bound to be a popular on dit when I rode out of town, a special license in my pocket, with the intentions of marrying a simpleminded girl. What I fail to understand is why your father was so vocal about our arrangements. Had he made his offer to me in private rather than at a crowded table in White’s, all London need not have known of his duplicity.”

  Elizabeth inhaled deeply. For the first time in her life, she found herself wishing to defend her father’s actions. “It was not duplicity, my lord,” she said stiffly. “My father believed what he told you.”

  Although Elizabeth was not looking at him, Kenrick made sure she could hear his snort of skepticism. “Do you ask me to believe, madam, that your own father is unaware of your very obvious abilities?”

  “Yes, I do ask you to believe that, my lord, for it is true,” Elizabeth replied, now looking directly into his eyes.

  “Then you ask too much, madam. Your father is no fool, nor am I. I was prepared, for my mother’s sake, to accept you in public, despite your and your parents’ very successful strategy to ensnare me through falsehoods and pretense. I will not, however, subscribe to pretense myself by professing to believe your lies when we are in private.”

  They had reached the edge of the park and must soon plunge into the noisy and crowded streets where private conversation would be impossible. Elizabeth lifted her chin and spoke clearly. “If, after we return to Kenrick House, I might have a few moments of your time, I believe I can explain my father’s misapprehensions about my mental capacities in such a way that you will understand.”