by Wilma Counts
“There is another matter I want to discuss with you,” Jeremy said. “It concerns Mrs. Arthur—”
But before he could continue, the sound of an arriving carriage with a large team and several outriders floated through the open French doors. Both brothers looked out to see what the commotion was.
“Do you recognize that crest—a rampant lion before crossed swords?” Jeremy asked and was surprised at seeing recognition and a profound sense of alarm on Robert’s face.
“Oh, my God!” Robert said. “The Duke of Wynstan.”
CHAPTER 17
As she oversaw the household routine the next morning, Kate pretended to herself that there had been little change in her status at Kenrick Hall. She met with gardeners who supplied the homegrown fruits and vegetables for the earl’s table; she then conferred with Mrs. Jenkins about menus for the week, and set maids to turning mattresses, laundering bedding, and dusting furniture. None of the staff treated her differently; there were no sly glances, no sudden pauses in conversations when she approached. Her secret—hers and Jeremy’s—seemed safe, and she hugged it to her.
She had not seen Jeremy yet and, after that quarrel, she was apprehensive about facing him. He was not a man to ignore an issue and pretend nothing was amiss. He would surely demand an explanation of her behavior. No matter how he might react to her deception, it was time—past time—to tell him the truth. She just had to find the right opportunity to do so.
It was mid-morning; Kate and Lady Elinor occupied padded straight-backed chairs as a small table in the morning room, so called because it faced east and caught the morning sun through tall windows. The family used it as an informal sitting room. Furnished for comfort rather than show and boasting light floral colors, it was Kate’s favorite room in the Hall, even though it, like the rest of the house, showed signs of age and neglect: worn upholstery and sun-streaked draperies. Having dispensed with items from a day-old newspaper, Kate had just opened a new novel by Mrs. Edgeworth when Ned, closely followed by Cassie, burst into the room.
“Mama! Mama! He found us!”
Alerted by the alarm in her son’s voice, Kate felt an answering frisson of fear—Ned’s terror-filled reference to he could mean only one person. She sought to quell her own and Ned’s emotions by speaking very calmly. “Good morning, Ned. Cassie.”
Ned grasped her arm and shook it. “The duke, Mama. He’s here!”
“Oh, dear God, no.” The words exploded from her in a hoarse whisper before she could bring reason to control the fear.
“We saw the carriage. It’s his crest. I saw the lion. Him too. He found us, Mama!”
Fear sought to grab and twist her innards; she fought nausea. Kate felt her life, her whole being crumbling as she put her arm around her son. “No. No.” The words now came as a soft wail. She hugged Ned tightly and, despite the chaos churning within her, pressed her forehead to his and said softly, “We must not panic.”
“What is it, my dear?” Lady Elinor asked.
“It’s—it’s Wynstan. He wants Ned,” Kate said without thinking to dissemble in answering.
“Wynstan? The Duke of Wynstan? Cedric Gardiner?” Lady Elinor was clearly mystified.
“Please, Mama. We can hide, can’t we? Cassie knows a place.”
“Cassie knows a—? Cassie?” Lady Elinor shot a questioning look toward the little girl.
“In the dining room. There’s a secret door.” Cassie had caught Ned’s sense of urgency.
“Ah, the priest hole.” Lady Elinor calmly accepted and dealt with the excitement of the moment. “Cassie, my dear, why don’t you show it to Ned while his mama and I sort this out? We shall call you when it is safe.”
Cassie shifted the ever-present Lady Lobo to one arm and grabbed Ned’s hand. “Come on, Ned.”
“Mama?”
“I—it’s all right, Ned.” Taking deep breaths, Kate was regaining control of herself. She patted him on the back. “You go along with Cassie until we call you.”
With a glance over his shoulder and reluctance in every step, Ned followed Cassie from the room.
Kate seized on the trivial to buy time to think. “There’s a priest hole here in Kenrick Hall?”
Lady Elinor’s matter-of-fact response barely registered as Kate frantically tried to think what to do. Her instinct was to grab Ned and just run. But where? How? She could achieve nothing alone.
“The first earl and his countess remained Catholic, though they publicly accepted the crown’s new religion. Many people did, you know. But it was very dangerous in this area to receive church sacraments—hence a hiding place for a priest should they be interrupted.” Lady Elinor paused. She had clearly resorted to this history-book explanation to allow Kate to collect herself, for her voice now became more firm. “Now, Mrs. Arthur, it is time you explained yourself. And I want the truth—as will Jeremy.”
Kate sucked in a long, quavering breath. “It’s a long story.”
“Begin with your connection to Wynstan.”
Kate took another deep breath. “My husband was Lord Arthur Gardiner, Wynstan’s son.”
Lady Elinor’s eyebrows shot up. “Good heavens! Go on.”
In a soft, resigned voice, wringing her hands nervously, Kate gave her a hurried summary of events that had brought her and Ned to Kenrick Hall. Occasionally, the older woman interrupted with a question or a comment, but mostly she just listened. When Kate finished, Lady Elinor sat quietly. Kate sat in misery and sheer terror at the thought of losing Ned. She had been so sure they would be safe for a while longer.
Finally, Lady Elinor asked, “Do Jeremy and Robert know all this?”
“Robert does. Jer—Lord Kenrick does not—or did not. I imagine he is being informed right now of what an imposter he has been harboring.” Kate swallowed hard and clenched her hand on the table. “I did not know what else to do. I could not—cannot—allow the duke to mistreat my son.” She fought tears of despair.
Lady Elinor reached across to pat Kate’s hand. “Of course not. But, my goodness, what a predicament this is. Do you realize how it may affect Jeremy?”
“At first, I did not think of that at all. I just wanted Ned to be safe. I never counted the cost to others. But lately—Oh, Lady Elinor, what am I to do?”
Again the older woman patted Kate’s hand. “Let’s just see what happens. Jeremy and Robert are very capable men. Your son is safe for the time being.”
Still apprehensive, but grateful for the older woman’s sympathy, Kate gripped the hand of friendship. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Further conversation was cut short by the appearance of Wilkins, who announced, “Mrs. Arthur, his lordship wishes to see you in the library.”
“I am coming with you,” Lady Elinor said.
Jeremy turned from the scene out the window to look intently at Robert. “Wynstan? You know him?”
“Know of him. He’s here about Kate.”
“Kate?”
“Kate. She needs our help, Jeremy. We both owe her. We must protect her. We must.”
A sense of urgency swept from Robert to Jeremy, where it quickly blended with apprehension and anger.
“Kate? Kate needs protection? From a duke? What does that mean? Just what the hell is going on?”
“Just trust me, all right?” Robert begged over the furious knocking at the door. “Trust her.”
Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “Trust. There seems to have been an amazing lack of that commodity around here lately.”
An open door from the library to the entrance hall allowed Jeremy and Robert to hear clearly an imperious male voice.
“Inform your master that the Duke of Wynstan wishes to see him immediately.”
Jeremy stepped into the hall. “That will not be necessary, Wilkins.” He then quietly instructed Wilkins to locate Mrs. Arthur.
Two men stood before him, but Jeremy had no difficulty distinguishing between them. The duke was a tall, thin man with a shock of thick white hair and
heavy black eyebrows over granite-hard, almost black eyes. A square jaw and thin lips did little to soften one’s impression. He was dressed in black and carried an ebony cane, though he held himself erect. The other man, heavier, and not as tall or as forbidding in demeanor, wore the signature red vest of a Bow Street Runner.
“I demand that you produce my grandson this instant,” the duke said.
“How do you do, your grace? Welcome to Kenrick Hall,” Jeremy said with exaggerated politeness and extended his hand. “I am Kenrick. This is my brother, the Honorable Robert Chilton.”
Wynstan ignored the proffered hand. “I know who you are. And I know you are sheltering that slut who kidnapped my grandson. I have come to retrieve him and Hoskins here has a warrant from the London magistrate for her arrest.”
Jeremy assumed a haughty attitude to match that of his boorish guest. “I am not accustomed, your grace, to allowing demeaning references to women in my home, nor to discussing important matters in my entrance hall. Please step into the library.” He shot Robert a questioning glance and mouthed the question, His grandson?
Robert nodded glumly. Suddenly much that had puzzled Jeremy about his housekeeper and her son fell into place. But he still had a number of questions and he thought he might thoroughly throttle her once this was over. He had no doubt she was the boy’s mother, but what was her relationship to the duke? Surely the man would not refer to his own daughter in such coarse terms. But just as surely Kate—his Kate—was a woman of quality; her education and speech proclaimed her such. She had deceived him profoundly, but he was damned if he would allow this man—duke or not—to mistreat her, nor to ride roughshod over someone under even the unknowing protection of the Earl of Kenrick.
Jeremy gestured to seats for their guests as Robert closed the library door. The duke looked around the room disparagingly and seemed to be withholding himself from the shabby elegance he saw. When Robert too was seated, Jeremy said, “Would you care to explain what, exactly, you are doing here, your grace?”
“I told you,” Wynstan replied in the same superior tone. “Hoskins, you tell him in the simple terms he might understand.”
The Runner looked uncomfortable, but explained as though he were reading a report. “After an exhaustive investigation, we have determined that the woman passing herself off as ‘Mrs. Arthur’ here at Kenrick Hall is, in fact, Lady Arthur Gardiner, widow of Lord Arthur Gardiner, youngest son of the Duke of Wynstan. The child Edward Arthur Gardiner is the Marquis of Spenland, heir to the Duke of Wynstan.”
Jeremy looked at Robert for confirmation, but he knew, even before seeing Robert’s nod, that it was true.
The Runner went on in the same rote tone: “As head of the family and in the absence of the child’s father, the Duke of Wynstan is asserting his legal right to take charge of said child. He has sworn out a warrant for the woman’s arrest.”
“I am having her transported,” Wynstan said. “Teach that baggage to cross swords with me.”
“Careful of your language,” Jeremy said softly. “Another slur, and, duke or not, I will have you thrown out of my home.”
Red with outrage, the duke spit his words sliced through clenched jaws. “You would not dare such. Do you even know with whom you are dealing?”
“I am fully aware of who you are, but as a guest in my home—invited or not—you will behave accordingly.”
“Just produce the woman and the child and let us get this over with,” the duke ordered.
Robert addressed the Bow Street Runner. “Mr. Hoskins, I am sure you have a much better acquaintance with the law than I have, but have Lord Spenland’s guardians been contacted in this matter?”
“Guardians?” The man looked in surprise at Wynstan. “Why—we assumed the duke had full legal standing. Male head of the family and all, you know.”
Robert replied, “I happen to know that Lord Spenland’s father appointed two respected and responsible gentlemen to serve as his surrogates should he be unable to manage his son’s affairs.”
“This certainly sheds a different light on the picture. You did not tell us this when you swore out that warrant, your grace,” the Runner accused.
The duke issued a contemptuous snort. “Of course I did not do so. It was irrelevant. My position supersedes a scribbled paper.” He turned to Jeremy. “Now will you produce the—uh—woman and the boy, or must I have this place ransacked looking for them?”
“You will do no such thing,” Jeremy said. “You would need an army for such an endeavor, and I assure you those outriders who accompanied you would not be sufficient to the task. Nor will Mrs. Arthur—Lady Arthur—go anywhere against her will.”
“I demand you require that woman’s presence here and now.” The duke rapped his cane against the floor. “And Hoskins, you are to arrest her forthwith.”
“I cannot do that, your grace, until we know the legal status of guardianship,” Hoskins said.
The duke turned to Jeremy. “Bah! Send for her! Now!”
“I am right here, your grace.”
Kate, accompanied by Lady Elinor, stepped through the door.
The men, even the duke, stood as the women entered, though Kate noted that Wynstan studiously ignored her. She saw him frown in confusion at Lady Elinor and then turn away from her. When the women were seated, Kate ventured a look at Jeremy, but it was difficult to read his expression. However, she had heard enough of the conversation to know that he would not allow the duke free reign.
The duke, who remained standing, pointed an accusing finger at Kate and glared at her. “You! Who do you think you are, spiriting away my heir as you did?”
“I am his mother,” she said simply. “And I shall continue to do all I can to protect him from being abused by you—or anyone else, for that matter. He has been happy here. Children should be allowed to be happy.”
He responded with another derisive snort. “Happy! The boy needs discipline and training if he is to one day take my place. Discipline and training. And I intend to see he gets them.”
“Over my dead body,” Kate snapped.
“Oh, I shouldn’t think it would come that,” the duke said with a mirthless chuckle. His next words were stones flung directly at her heart. “But you will be out of the picture. The penal colony in New South Wales.”
Kate felt an icy shiver course through her. She knew it was very possible for this cold specimen of humanity to achieve just such an end.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Cedric. You always were an outrageous bully, but this is quite beyond enough.” Lady Elinor’s outburst focused surprised attention on her.
A deep flush suffused the duke’s face as he peered more closely at the source of this affront to his person. “Eh? Who? Oh, I say—it—it cannot be. Lady Elinor Chilton?”
“Elinor Baxter, you old curmudgeon. As you well know. After all these years, you still think you can dictate to everyone. Browbeat people enough and they fall like dominoes, eh?”
“Well, I—I—”
“You could not dictate to Baxter and me years ago, and believe me, you cannot dictate here, either.”
Kate watched, mesmerized, as Wynstan engaged in an internal struggle to regain the upper hand. Surprise, chagrin, and arrogance flashed across his features. Vindictiveness won.
“We shall see who has the final say on this matter,” he threatened. “The law is likely to take a very dim view of a woman’s grabbing a child from his ancestral home to take up residence in the establishment of an unmarried man. It’s indecent, I tell you.”
“Here, now—” Robert interjected.
Jeremy stood and held up a hand to halt any further outburst from the duke. “That’s enough, Wynstan. You’ve gone too far. Too far by half.”
Lady Elinor sat up straighter. Her voice dripped honey and vinegar. “And you forget, Cedric, that I am very much a part of this household. I do hope you are not attempting to question my character. I doubt our mutual friends in the ton would tolerate that.”
Kate felt a shiver of premonition. Instinctively, she looked at Jeremy, who gave her a slight nod as he took a stance at the fireplace, resting his arm along the mantel.
“Nothing will be resolved here and now,” he said. “It will take a few days to get the legalities of this matter sorted out. Meanwhile Mrs.—Lady—Arthur and her son will stay where they are. And you, your grace, may find accommodation to your liking at the Kenrick Inn in town. I would offer you the hospitality of Kenrick Hall, but under the circumstances, I feel sure you would be more comfortable elsewhere.”
Jeremy’s tone left no room for quibbling and Kate felt a twinge of satisfaction at this slight to the duke’s consequence.
Her satisfaction was short-lived, for as soon as the door closed on the departing duke and his companion, Jeremy’s rather enigmatic gaze shifted from Kate to Robert and back to Kate. She squirmed inwardly, wishing this moment could have been avoided.
“Lady Arthur, Robert,” he said, laying an ironic twist to her title, “I believe Aunt Elinor and I are entitled to some sort of explanation.”
His voice was calm, detached, but Kate wished she knew what he thought, what he felt.
What Jeremy thought, what he felt as she told her story could be summed up in a single word: betrayal.
Amelia.
Willow.
Kate.
Three women he had cared for—and each of them had betrayed him. Even as he listened to Kate’s story, he recalled his earlier misjudgments of women in his life.
So what if his feelings for Amelia amounted to adolescent infatuation—a boy naively equating physical beauty and an unassailable position in his father’s household with perfection in character? His stepmother had found his puppy-like adoration amusing, his innocence laughable.
