Then Comes Seduction

by Mary Balogh

  Her head came up again, and her eyes met his from only inches away They were still huge and bright with unshed tears.

  “It would seem,” she said, “that I have little choice, Lord Montford.”

  Loverlike words indeed.

  “Is that a yes?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her lips. He forced a smile, which he hoped was neither twisted nor mocking.

  “Yes,” she said. “It is a yes.”

  “Thank you,” he said, and he moved his head closer in order to kiss those lips.

  Except that she turned her head aside, leaving his mouth half an inch from her ear.

  Leaving him feeling like an ass after all.

  Ah. Well.

  “Perhaps,” he said, “we had better—”

  He did not complete the thought. There was a tap on the door and it opened before either of them could respond.

  “Kate,” Merton said, all pokered up and looking very aristocratic and older than his twenty years, “is everything all right? You said you would be back upstairs within five minutes.”

  He did not even look at Jasper. Neither did the elder Miss Huxtable, who stood in the doorway at her brother’s shoulder. Nor did the Duchess of Moreland, who was behind them.

  An affecting family tableau.

  “It has taken longer than I expected,” Katherine Huxtable said. “But we have finished now and you might as well all come inside and congratulate us. I have just accepted a marriage offer from Lord Montford. He is my betrothed.”

  They all looked suitably stunned. Obviously it had been understood that their sister would say a quick no before his offer was even made and that she would be back with them within minutes of his arrival.

  Then her sisters rushed into the room to catch her up in a hug—whether of congratulation or commiseration was not evident—and Merton advanced upon Jasper, his mouth set in a grim line, his hand outstretched.

  “I am to congratulate you, then, Montford,” he said, all arctic frost.

  Not Monty any longer?

  Jasper set his hand in that of his future brother-in-law.

  Lord! He was an affianced man, soon to be a married man. There was an unfamiliar ball of something that felt like panic in the pit of his stomach. But it was too late now to run for the hills. He was a dead goner, as someone had predicted at White’s this morning.

  Clarence Forester had better watch his back, by thunder, if he ever plucked up the courage to leave the safety of his home in Kent again.

  And his front too, by God.

  She might have married Tom Hubbard or one of a number of other suitors she had had when she still lived in Throckbridge, Katherine thought, and lived a worthy life of contentment.

  She might have married Phillip Grainger almost any time since she had moved to Warren Hall and lived a worthy life of contentment with him.

  But she had held out for that elusive something called romantic love, and now she was to marry Lord Montford, who did not know the meaning of either romance or love. She had no illusions about him. He was incapable of commitment.

  And how could she commit herself to a man who did not take life at all seriously? One who was willing to wager that he could make her fall in love with him for the sheer amusement of tackling an impossible challenge? One who thought that physical desire and going to bed with each other were the only ingredients necessary to a good and lasting marriage?

  They were pointless thoughts. She was betrothed to him anyway.

  In one month’s time they would be married. The nuptials were to be at St. George’s in Hanover Square with as many of the ton present as could be persuaded to remain in town after what would normally be the end of the Season. If she were a wagering person, she would bet that that would be a large number. They would not be able to resist witnessing what they had collectively forced upon two people who had become victims of the vicious gossip spread by one of their own.

  What a farce it all was! If it were not also tragic, she would laugh until the tears ran down her cheeks.

  Elliott, who had remained upstairs in the drawing room when the others came down to the library, had thought it was best to have a proper society wedding instead of a quiet ceremony by special license. He had said so after they all went upstairs to break the news of the betrothal to him. Stephen had agreed with him. So had Meg and Nessie.

  So had Lord Montford.

  Katherine had not expressed an opinion. She did not care when or where they married.

  She was sitting now, half an hour later, staring into the empty fireplace in the drawing room while her family talked about her with false heartiness. They talked with one another, having given up trying to comfort her and draw her into the conversation. Lord Montford had left.

  And then the butler appeared with a visitor’s card on his tray.

  Whoever could be calling at this hour, so late in the afternoon? She would go up to her room, Katherine decided, and avoid whoever it was. She had had quite enough for one day This was surely the final straw

  “Miss Wrayburn is calling with Miss Daniels,” Margaret said, looking across the room at Katherine.

  Katherine sighed. There was to be no escape yet.

  “Let them come up, then,” she said, and stayed where she was.

  Did Miss Wrayburn know about the betrothal? Al ready? Or had she merely heard about the gossip and scandal?

  A minute later she had her answer when the girl came hurrying into the room with a bounce in her step, all bright, happy smiles. She beamed about at everyone, but it was Katherine who was the focus of her attention. She came across the room, her hands outstretched, as Katherine got to her feet.

  “Oh,” she said, “I am so happy I could burst. I have never been happier in my life. You are going to be my sister, Miss Huxtable. May I call you Katherine, please? And you must call me Charlotte.”

  Katherine took her hands and smiled. Her facial muscles did not seem quite to belong to her.

  “I would prefer Kate,” she said. “My family calls me that.”

  “And I am to be your family,” the girl said, laughing. “I am to be your sister, Kate. And I will be able to live with you and Jasper until I marry You will be able to bring me out next year, and I will not have to worry about Aunt Prunella ever again.”

  “No, you will not.” Katherine squeezed her hands.

  “I am happy for myself,” Charlotte said, biting her lip. “How selfish of me. But I am even happier for Jasper and for you. I have known for ages that you love each other. I have seen it in your faces. I know you are going to be happy forever.”

  Katherine merely smiled.

  Charlotte released her hands and turned to look about at everyone else in the room.

  “We are all going to be family,” she said. “Is it not wonderful? I had to come immediately as soon as Jasper came home to tell me, though Miss Daniels did not think it was quite the proper time to make a call. You will forgive me, will you not? I am almost family already, after all. Next month I will be.”

  “There is absolutely nothing to forgive, Miss Wrayburn,” Stephen said. “Do please have a seat, Miss Daniels.”

  “We will consider you a part of our family from this moment on,” Vanessa said, getting to her feet to hug the girl. “May I call you Charlotte too?”

  “And yes,” Margaret said, “it is indeed wonderful.”

  “I am almost glad Clarence has been such a beast,” Charlotte said as she took a seat between Margaret and Vanessa. “Jasper might not have come to the point before the end of the Season, and we might all have had to wait another year before he did. By that time I would have been with Aunt Prunella. Even so, Clarence is a beast, and I apologize to all of you for the fact that he is my cousin. I heartily wish he weren’t. But no matter. Soon I am to have a whole new family.”

  Had they all been so young and innocent once upon a time?

  Katherine sat down and continued to smile.

  Someone was happy, anyway

  At least someone
was.

  Jasper also had a visitor late in the afternoon—a mere quarter of an hour after Charlotte had gone dashing off to Merton House like a kitten with two tails, in fact. He had not stopped her. This was a strange day for all of them, and if she was filled to the brim with exuberance, then why stop it from spilling over? She would surely be forgiven at Merton House.

  He was sitting at his desk in the library, though there was nothing on its surface except pens and ink and a large blotter. He had one elbow propped on the desktop and his thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose.

  He was trying his hardest not to think. There was no point in thought. It was a useless effort, of course.

  It will not be so bad if we choose not to let it be. The expectations of society and our concern for the well-being of our family may force us into marrying, Miss Huxtable, but they cannot force us into being miserable forever after. Only we can do that. Let us not do it. Let us make each other happy instead.

  Lord! He ought to hire himself out as a three-handkerchief speech writer. He would have the whole nation awash in sentimental tears.

  But the trouble was that he must act upon those words, like it or not. His salad days were over. His wild oats had all been sown. He was going to be that dullest of dull fellows —a married man.

  Such gloomy thoughts were interrupted when Horton scratched discreetly on the door, opened it quietly, and was then swept aside by the very visitor he had obviously come to announce.

  Con Huxtable strode into the room, obviously in a black humor, looking like grim Greek thunder, and Jasper got to his feet and strolled about the desk.

  Con did not stop until his face was an inch away from Jasper’s.

  “Do come in, Con,” Jasper said. “No need to wait to be announced.”

  Con grabbed him by the neckcloth with one hand and hoisted upward. His face moved half an inch closer so that they were almost nose-to-nose.

  Ah. This again.

  Jasper did not allow his heels to leave the floor, but his breathing was somewhat restricted. He did nothing to free himself though he might have done so with some justification, since Con was neither her brother nor her brother- in- law. Or her guardian.

  “I suppose,” Con said, “you have offered her marriage.”

  “I have,” Jasper said.

  “And has she accepted?”

  “She has.”

  Con backed him against the desk until the top of it, which overhung the side, dug painfully into his back. He still did not resist. A man must be allowed to defend his female relatives even if they were only second cousins.

  “If I should hear one word,” Con said through his teeth, “one word about you mistreating her or making her miserable or dishonoring her by continuing with your raking, I’ll… I’ll…”

  Jasper raised his eyebrows. The main physical difference between Con Huxtable and Moreland, he realized for the first time, was the color of their eyes. They could easily pass for brothers, almost twins, but Con’s eyes matched his dark Greek coloring. They were such a dark brown at the moment that they might easily be mistaken for black. Moreland’s were a surprising blue.

  “So help me, Montford,” Con said, still between his teeth, “I’ll put your lights out.”

  “Fortunately for me—or for you, Con,” Jasper said, “since I daresay you would not enjoy an appointment with the hangman, you will never be called upon to put your threat into effect. Tell me, did you always know about that wager?”

  Con released him suddenly and took one step back. His nostrils flared.

  “I knew,” he said curtly “You would have been a dead man if you had won it.”

  “And yet,” Jasper said, “it is only now that you choose to demonstrate your righteous indignation? Three years after the fact?”

  “Some things are best not spoken of,” Con said. “Sometimes it is best not to stir up gossip, especially when it will swallow up an innocent—as it has now.”

  “Courtesy of Forester,” Jasper said. “Do have a seat, Con, or pour yourself a drink, or pace the carpet. I find my eyes having a hard time focusing at such close range.”

  “Merton has a powerful arm,” Con said, stepping back. “He almost certainly broke Forester’s nose. Both his eyes are black today from the impact.”

  “You have seen him?” Jasper said, crossing to the brandy decanter in order to pour them both a drink.

  “One of the servants left behind obviously felt no need to be loyal or closemouthed,” Con said. “I suspect he had not been paid.”

  “That will teach him to take employment with someone of Forester’s ilk,” Jasper said, turning with both glasses in his hand. “Katherine Huxtable is to be my bride in one month’s time—as soon as the banns have been read. Banns have been judged more proper than a special license under the circumstances. The nuptials are to be celebrated at St. George’s, of course. You will be my best man if you will, Con.”

  14

  K A T H E R I N E’S prediction proved quite correct. Although by the time of her wedding day it was July and the Season was officially over and normally the ton would already have made a mass exodus for their country estates or Brighton or one of the spas, a significant number of them remained in town to attend the event.

  Baron Montford was actually getting married. No one could resist seeing it happen, especially since the circumstances surrounding it had been so very scandalous. And everyone had always considered Katherine Huxtable to be so very proper and so very respectable. It was hard to picture her as the bride of such a notorious rake, poor lady Though of course she had brought it all entirely upon herself by allowing him to dangle after her this year despite that shocking wager of three years ago. She was fortunate indeed that he was willing to do the decent thing. It would have been entirely in character if he had abandoned her to her fate.

  The Duke and Duchess of Moreland were to host a wedding breakfast at Moreland House following the nuptials. The bride and groom were to leave for the country immediately after for a brief honeymoon before the arrival of the houseguests who had been invited to Cedarhurst Park to celebrate Miss Wrayburn’s eighteenth birthday. Those guests were the envy of the ton. They were to have all the pleasure of witnessing the early progress of such an unlikely union.

  But for now it was Katherine’s wedding day

  She was wearing a new pale blue muslin gown that fell in soft folds from its high waistline to the silver-embroidered hem. Similar embroidery trimmed the short puffed sleeves and the modestly scooped neck.

  Her new straw bonnet was lavishly trimmed with blue cornflowers and was held in place beneath her chin with wide blue silk ribbons.

  The white gold chain about her neck with its faceted diamond pendant, which to her mind resembled a large teardrop, had been a betrothal gift from her bridegroom.

  She wore long white gloves and silver slippers.

  She knew she was looking her best. She needed to. Today had very little to do with her except that following it she would be married forever after to Lord Montford. No, today was all about respectability, belonging, accepting the rules and conventions of society She was a member of society whether she liked it or not. She had been ever since Elliott, still Viscount Lyngate at the time, had ridden into Throckbridge to inform Stephen that he was the Earl of Merton. She owed it to her family to fit into society as best she could.

  And when all was said and done, her family was all that really mattered. She loved them. She was doing this primarily for them, though they would be perturbed if they knew it. All of them at one time or other during the past month had found time for a private tête-à- tête with her and had urged her to put an end to the betrothal and wedding preparations if she really did not want to marry Lord Montford. Each had offered his or her undying support if she made such a decision.

  Margaret and Vanessa were in her dressing room now They had both stopped in the doorway to exclaim with admiration and assure her that she looked beau tiful.

 
“And we were quite right about the color,” Meg said, coming closer to take Katherine’s hands in her own— with a painfully tight grip. “It is the very best color and shade for you. It matches your eyes and flatters your hair. Oh, Kate, are you quite, quite sure…”

  Meg had even offered to move somewhere in the country with her if she wished—far away from London and Warren Hall and even Throckbridge. They would be quiet and happy together in a small cottage for the rest of their lives, and the beau monde could go to Hades —Meg’s own words.

  Poor Meg! This was all harder on her than on anyone else with the possible exception of Katherine herself. She had given years of her life since their father’s death—all of her youth and most of her twenties, in fact—to the care of her brother and sisters. She had even given up Crispin Dew, the man she had loved and perhaps still did. Her one goal had always been to see them well settled in life. But more important even than that, she had wanted to see them all happily settled.

  Katherine smiled and returned the pressure of Meg’s hands.

  “Of course I am sure, silly goose,” she said, as she had said numerous times before. “I was horribly embarrassed by all those foolish stories a month ago, it is true, and I was terribly angry at having my hand so forced. And of course I was not best pleased with Lord Montford either since in many ways—though not in every way—he was the cause of it all. But that is all in the past now, and I am well content with what has come of it. I am twenty- three years old and eager to marry at last—and I am to do it with the man of my choice. I really am enormously fond of him, you know”

  She was overdoing it. That word enormously especially did not ring at all true. But Meg was looking reassured nonetheless.

  “Then I am content too,” she said, tears brightening her eyes. “And I do believe he has a regard for you too, Kate. Oh, I think so, and I thought it even before all this nastiness happened. I will forgive him all his sins against you if this turns into the love match I dream of for you.”

  Vanessa took Meg’s place and hugged Katherine tightly.