The Lady Who Broke the Rules

by Marguerite Kaye

  Virgil laughed. ‘I would like to see him try.’

  ‘I wish you could—come to Castonbury with me, that is,’ Kate said impulsively.

  ‘Well, I… That’s very nice of you, but—’

  ‘It’s not nice, it’s selfish. I have to leave first thing tomorrow, you see, and I haven’t had the chance to talk to you properly. There is so much I would love to discuss with you, I have so many questions, but there are matters—family matters—oh, why is it that family matters always arise at the most inconvenient of times?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, since I have no family,’ Virgil said.

  ‘Lucky you!’ Kate exclaimed, then was immediately contrite. ‘Oh, I am so dreadfully sorry, I did not think. Have you indeed no family at all? Your parents—?’

  ‘I was separated from my mother as soon as I was weaned,’ Virgil said tersely.

  ‘So, too, was I. Mama was not much interested in any of her children, and as a female of course, I was…’ Kate broke off, covering her mouth in horror. ‘Do you mean you were sold?’

  ‘Family ties are very much discouraged in the plantations. It was—still is—common practice to separate mothers and children.’

  ‘And your father?’

  Virgil shrugged. ‘I never knew him.’ He took a draught of claret. ‘As I said, family ties were discouraged. You should be grateful for yours, whatever your relationship with them.’

  ‘I am quite humbled.’

  ‘That was not my intention.’

  ‘You need not concern yourself. To be honest, what I meant was that I ought to be humbled. If you knew my family, you would understand why it’s very difficult to be grateful for them—some of them, at least.’

  He liked that hint of wickedness in her smile. She was not only unconventional but irrepressible. It was a pity their acquaintance was doomed to be of such short duration, Virgil thought. ‘You are not, then, in the habit of doing as you ought?’

  Her smile disappeared abruptly. ‘My aunt would tell you that I am rather in the habit of never doing so. Tell me, Mr Jackson, did Weston make that coat?’

  He would have taken the change of subject for a deliberate snub had it come from anyone else, but he was pretty sure that a snub from Lady Kate would be much more direct. He had obviously quite inadvertently touched upon a sore point. ‘My tailor was Weston, though how you knew I have no idea.’

  To Virgil’s relief, Lady Kate laughed. ‘My brothers go to Scott, being military men, so I knew it was not one of his, and I confess that I know only one other tailor. It was an educated guess, that’s all. You will have the Bostonian ladies sighing into their teacups at your style, Mr Jackson. Though perhaps you are interested in the sighs of just one particular lady?’

  ‘I am not married, and nor do I have any particular lady in my life,’ Virgil replied curtly. ‘As to my coat—I doubt it will see the light of day when I get home. It took that valet I hired several minutes to get me into it, and I feel as if every time I breathe the shoulders will burst at the seams. Back home, I dress for comfort.’

  ‘I’d like to hear more about back home,’ Kate said, telling herself that the fact that Mr Jackson was unattached was neither here nor there. ‘May I ask how long you expect business to keep you here in Staffordshire?’

  ‘Actually, I’m planning on heading north tomorrow while Josiah’s men work on the samples for our wares. We’ll meet up in London to conclude our business before I return to America, but I have other business in Glasgow to see to in the meantime, and there is a model village not far from that city which I have arranged to visit.’

  ‘Do you mean Mr Owen’s New Lanark?’ Kate exclaimed. ‘How I would love to see it. I am a great admirer of Mr Owen, I have read all his works, and in fact our own little school in Castonbury was established along similar lines—or at least that is what I would like to believe.’

  ‘Your school—you mean you have set up a village school?’

  ‘Do not look so astonished. Not all English ladies confine themselves to playing the pianoforte and painting watercolours for amusement, Mr Jackson. Some of us prefer to utilise our time to more effect,’ Kate said stiffly.

  ‘So you rescue streetwalkers and educate the village children. I did not mean to offend you, but you’ll admit it is something out of the common way, to meet a duke’s daughter who is a revolutionary.’

  ‘You are far too modest. Rare as we revolutionary aristocrats may be, a freed slave who has made himself into one of the richest men in New England must be rarer. I wish you would tell me more about how you became so.’

  Virgil shook his head. ‘I am much more interested in your school. Do you teach there yourself?’

  ‘I help out when I can, but we have an excellent mistress in the form of Miss Thomson. I rescue governesses in addition to streetwalkers,’ Kate said with a smile. ‘Miss Thomson tries to follow the principles which Mr Owen set down, but to see them in practice would be so much better than reading about them. I wish I could visit New Lanark. How I envy you. Were you serious about establishing a similar place?’

  ‘Serious about testing its merits. Very serious about the school. Without education, it is not possible to make the most of freedom. I believe that education is power.’

  ‘With that I wholeheartedly agree. My own education did not amount to much, which goes some way to explaining why even setting up a simple school has taken an enormous amount of effort.’ Kate pulled a face. ‘That, and the fact that as a mere woman I am not considered worthy of having an opinion on the subject. Being female does rather shackle one.’

  Virgil bit back a smile. ‘You don’t strike me as being someone constrained by her position in society.’

  ‘I know perfectly well that there is no real comparison between myself and a female slave,’ she replied, disconcerting him by reading his thoughts, ‘but it is nevertheless how I feel sometimes. Perception and reality are not always the same thing.’

  ‘That is most certainly true.’

  How had he come by his education? Kate was about to ask when a footman leaned over her shoulder, a huge lemon syllabub trembling on the platter in his hands. She shook her head impatiently. Sir Merkland was clearing his throat. The change of course dictated a turn in the conversation. Port and cigars and business would detain the gentlemen until tea. She would be obliged to surrender her monopoly of Virgil Jackson to the other guests when she had barely scratched the surface of what she wanted to know about him.

  ‘You could do a lot worse than come to Castonbury with me,’ she said impulsively. ‘Then you could see our school for yourself and it would give you something to compare with Mr Owen’s. You know, the more I think about it, the more I am sure it is the perfect solution.’

  ‘To what?’ Virgil asked, confused by the sudden change in the conversation.

  Kate had been thinking only of her desire to know him better, so his question threw her, for though of course it was because she wished to know him better, to say so would imply something much more personal. And though it was personal in a way, it was not that sort of personal because she wasn’t the type of female with whom men wished to be that sort of personal. ‘The solution of your travelling all the way to Scotland without having seen anything of our true English countryside,’ she said mendaciously. ‘Derbyshire is the most beautiful of the counties, and though I admit to being rather biased, Castonbury is one of the most beautiful houses.’

  ‘Are you serious?’

  Determined, more like, now that the idea was in her head, but Kate thought better, at the last minute, of saying so, for Virgil Jackson looked like a man who would resist any attempt to force his will. ‘Perfectly,’ she said instead. ‘I would love to show you our school, and I would welcome your opinion on the plans I have to extend it.’

  Virgil frowned. He was tempted. A school established on the Owen model would certainly merit a break in his journey, and he had not yet confirmed the precise dates of his visit with New Lanark’s proprietor. Besides,
there could be no denying that a visit to a real stately pile held its own subversive pleasure. He shook his head reluctantly. ‘Much as I appreciate the honour, I very much doubt your family would be as welcoming as you,’ he said.

  Which was, as far as her father and Aunt Wilhelmina were concerned, the truth, but that only made Kate more determined. Since those same two relatives had taken such pains to collaborate in her ruin, she would have no compunction in flaunting that ruin in their faces. ‘Actually, it is rather your birth than the colour of your skin which will concern my father. According to him, there are less than a dozen other families in the country with blood so blue as the Montagues. Though since he chooses to confine himself to his own quarters, his opinions do not particularly matter. My brother Giles is acting head of the family at present and he is not at all prejudiced.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Virgil said, ‘I do not think…’

  She could see she was losing the battle, but Kate, now quite set on winning, switched tactics. ‘Are you afraid you will be put under the spyglass, Mr Jackson?’ She could see from the way he stilled, that she had hit home. ‘How can you expect to break down barriers if you do not face them?’

  ‘I hope, Lady Kate, that you are not thinking of using me as a weapon in some sort of private war. Are you perhaps eager to prove your reputation for being a revolutionary to your father and your aunt?’

  He spoke softly, but there was an underlying air of menace which made Kate’s skin prickle. Virgil Jackson was obviously not a man who could be threatened. She threw up her hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I admit, there is a part of me which relishes the notion of introducing you to Aunt Wilhelmina, but I promise you, it is only a small part. What I really want is to get to know you better.’

  Her frankness disarmed him. He was tempted. Who would not be, by such an argument put forward by such a— He could not think of a word to describe Lady Kate Montague. Not that her personal attractions had anything to do with his decision. ‘I will think about it,’ Virgil said.

  ‘With a view to saying yes?’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he repeated, telling himself he would, though he had already more than half decided.

  Chapter Two

  His valet brought the note with his shaving water, proffering the folded sheet of thick paper on a sliver tray. Virgil knew who it was from the moment he saw it, though he couldn’t have said how. Had he been expecting it? Hoping for it? His name was written in a clear hand utterly bereft of flourishes, starkly legible. A man’s hand, he would have taken it for, under other circumstances. His valet was not taken in either though, judging from the curious looks he was casting at him via the mirror over the dressing stand.

  ‘I’ll shave myself, Watson,’ Virgil said, deliberately catching the man’s eye. Though he would have preferred to break the seal in private, he would not lower himself to the subterfuge of sending the valet away, nor indeed would he grant the note the importance such an act would imply.

  I was perfectly serious. I wish you would do me the honour of paying a visit to Castonbury. We have much in common, and I am most eager to further our acquaintance. I leave at ten. I have sent a note ahead warning them to expect us, and arranged for your man to travel separately with my maid and the baggage. From what Polly has told me of him, he will have an entertaining journey! K.

  Virgil smiled. Practical, blunt and wry, and leaving him with very little option but to accept. It was as well he had already resolved to go, for he made a point of never allowing himself to be coerced. Reading it again, he could picture the sparkle in her eyes as she wrote that last sentence.

  ‘A change of plan, sir?’

  From the supercilious look on his face, Watson already knew the contents of the letter. How the hell? In the way that all servants knew, Virgil supposed. It had been the same on the plantation. Knowledge was power; he shouldn’t judge the man for that. He folded the note and placed it in the pocket of his silk dressing gown. ‘I take it you’ve been speaking to Lady Kate’s maid?’

  Lathering his face, Virgil watched out of the corner of his eye as his valet debated between honesty and what seemed to be the English servant’s custom of pretended ignorance. He was relieved when the man plumped for the truth. ‘Miss Fisher did mention that Her Ladyship had invited you to Castonbury,’ the man admitted grudgingly.

  ‘And did Miss Fisher happen to share her views as to my likely reception there?’

  Watson blanched. ‘Miss Fisher had a— She was— The truth is, sir, that Miss Fisher is not short of opinions,’ he said grimly. ‘I cannot imagine how Lady Katherine came by such a female, nor indeed how such a female survives in a ducal household.’

  ‘Like her mistress, I believe she is rather unconventional,’ Virgil replied. ‘Prepare yourself, Watson, for you will be sharing the baggage coach with her.’

  ‘You mean we are going to Castonbury? You wish me to accompany you? I was under the impression that you were journeying north alone.’

  Judging from the look in his valet’s eye, the invitation was even more of an honour than Virgil had surmised. ‘Do you wish to return to London?’

  ‘No indeed, sir. I would not dream of leaving you to the ministrations of another,’ Watson declared.

  ‘Nothing better to do with your time, eh?’

  Watson drew himself up. ‘If I have fallen short of your expectations…’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot, you know perfectly well that you’ve been keeping me right. I don’t like to be waited on, but it seems I must be, and you do it very well, so if you wish to continue with me in the short term…’

  ‘I do indeed, sir.’

  ‘Then get packing. I must make my farewells to my host.’

  * * *

  Kate swept down the stairs with her gloves and whip in her hand, trying to ignore the fact that her heart was fluttering in a quite ridiculous manner for one of her age. It was simply that she was interested in Virgil Jackson, that was all. There was a lot to find interesting in him. It was nothing, nothing at all, to do with the fact that he was an attractive man.

  Just as the fact that she had spent much longer than usual dressing had nothing to do with wanting to look her best. As she very well knew, even at her best, she could never aspire to beauty, though it had to be said that this particular shade of blue was becoming, and the rather military cut of her riding habit, with its silver braiding and snugly fitting jacket, draped well on her slim form. Kate made a face, chastising herself. What mattered was that she was pleased with her appearance, she reminded herself. What did not matter was what Virgil Jackson thought.

  Except, as she turned the corner to the last flight of stairs and saw that he was waiting for her in the tiled hall, dressed in a plain black coat with a grey waistcoat, buckskins and top boots polished to a gleam, and she noticed that his eyes lingered on her as she made her way towards him, she found that she did care. Chiding herself for it, she couldn’t help the tiniest flush of pleasure at seeing that he liked what he saw any more than she could deny that she liked what she saw too. Very much.

  She held out her hand. To her surprise, he bent low over it, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. His lips were warm. The touch was fleeting, but it was enough to set her pulses skittering. In the bright light of the early-autumn sunshine streaming through the fanlight above the door, his skin gleamed. His eyes were more amber than brown. The way he looked at her warmed her, as if he saw something in her that no one else could see. ‘I’m so glad you decided to accept my invitation,’ she said brusquely, for it was embarrassing enough, this girlish reaction, without letting him see it.

  ‘I could not pass up the opportunity to visit this school of yours.’

  It was most foolish of her to be disappointed, for what else was there between them save such business? Kate smiled brightly. ‘I’m glad.’

  Virgil frowned. ‘Yes, but I’m not so sure that your family will be as enthusiastic. It is one thing to test barriers, as you said last night, but another t
o force an uninvited guest on people who, frankly, may not be very happy to receive me.’

  ‘You are invited, for I invited you.’

  ‘Did you tell them— The note you sent—how did you describe me?’

  ‘As a man of great wealth and extraordinary influence, a business associate of Josiah with a fascinating history.’

  She had not mentioned the one salient fact that he was sure would have been the first to occur to almost anyone else. ‘You don’t think,’ Virgil asked tentatively, ‘that it would have been safer to warn them about my heritage?’

  ‘Why should I? I look at you and I see a man who has achieved what very few others have. You are rich and powerful and you have succeeded against overwhelming odds which also makes you fascinating. Why should I tell them the colour of your skin any more than I should inform them the colour of your hair, or whether you are fat or scrawny.’ Or attractive. Really extraordinarily attractive. Which, she should remember, was quite irrelevant. ‘Besides,’ Kate said disparagingly, ‘why encourage them to judge you before they have even met you?’

  Virgil drew himself up. ‘I don’t give a damn—begging your pardon—about what your family think of me. I was more concerned about what they’d think of you.’

  ‘My family can think no worse of me than they already do. They are perfectly well aware of my support for the abolition laws, and I am perfectly capable of defending myself, if that is what you are concerned about,’ Kate said with a toss of her head. ‘I’ve had practice enough, God knows.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that. I suspect you take pride in being a rule-breaker.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Kate said, ‘you misunderstand me. Breaking rules, even unjust rules, is far more painful than unquestioning obedience. I wish I did not have to be a rule-breaker, as you call me. Life would be so much more pleasant if what one believed and what was expected of one coincided more often.’