by Pam Roller
Lord Drayton stood there, his shoulders spanning the doorframe. “The soldiers have gone.” His cool gaze lowered to Katherine’s soiled dress, and then to her hands. A fleeting compassion crossed his annoyingly handsome features. “Millie,” he said decisively, “you will feed Lady Katherine her meals until she is able to handle....”
His voice trailed off as Katherine gave him a fierce stare and shook her head. Would he allow her no dignity!
Lord Drayton’s face resumed a mask of indifference. “As you wish. I came to tell you that I leave for Chiswick this morning to meet with a lawyer and draw up a marriage contract for you.”
Katherine’s eyes widened in stunned surprise. So soon? Livid now, she brushed at the quill until the end of it extended off the edge of the table.
“But she-she is injured,” Elizabeth said.
Katherine finally grasped the quill between her thumb and palm and thrust the point straight to the bottom of the inkbottle.
“I said I would meet with him. I did not say she would leave immediately. I know what’s best for her.”
And now he was speaking as if she weren’t in the room—as if she were a mere child. She struggled to keep the pen from slipping around in her bandages as she wrote.
“Who is he?” Elizabeth asked.
Lord Drayton hesitated, and Katherine glanced up to see him looking down at his boots as if expecting their worn leather toes to answer. “I would rather not say in case he refuses her,” he said.
“Oh,” said Elizabeth meekly.
Katherine finished, straightened, and jerked an aching finger toward her words, which were barely legible and dotted with black splatters.
Lord Drayton walked to the table, picked up the paper, and read, “I meet him. I decide.” A deep rumble in his chest suggested a chuckle, although his lips revealed his scorn and his eyes became icy. “No, you will not decide. You will marry whomever I choose for you.”
Katherine shook her head and glared at him while the quill slipped from her hand to the floor.
He tossed the paper onto the table, and his derisive laugh sent chills through her body. “Yes, I know. You want only to marry for love. But as I told you, there is no such thing.” He walked to the door, then turned to face her. “Tolerance, yes. Perhaps dislike, or in my case, pure hatred. But never love.”
Such bitterness! What on earth had happened to the man? Katherine followed him out the door, but his long legs had carried him quickly down the corridor.
And he was gone.
Chapter Eight
Riding east, Alex detoured to Robert’s house to leave his copy of Paradise Lost for Edward to borrow. A man near Robert’s barn pointed to Edward’s herbarium.
Alex dismounted and ambled down the pebbled path to the small, squat building, and stopped with his hand on the door latch. Edward wasn’t alone. Heated words carried through the glassless window to his right.
“I cannot believe it. Are you sure he wants to court you?”
“He would like to. Why do you doubt his intentions? Am I not good enough for him?”
The voices belonged to Agnes and Edward. Disinclined to interrupt their private conversation, Alex released the latch and turned to leave the book with Sarah, but the next words rooted him.
“His year of mourning for Madcap Mary has ended,” Agnes said. “At last.”
“Has he expressed interest? Spoken to Father?”
“Not yet. Likely Alexander is as slow as you in your courtship. He doesn’t wish to offend me by moving forward too quickly.” A slight hesitation, and then Agnes added, “You know, Ed, I think you should court Katherine instead of Elizabeth.”
“What? No, I do not think—”
“She is pretty, you know,” Agnes said. “Almost as pretty as I am. Father said so. Her clothes sit on her like a saddle on a sow’s back, and she cannot talk, and she is stupid no matter what anyone says, but you’d have plenty of time to dry your herbs and write love poems.”
Alex instinctively stiffened at the insult to Katherine.
“Bear in mind that I mean to continue courting Elizabeth.”
Agnes laughed. “Tell me. Have you kissed her yet?”
“No. We are in no hurry.”
“So you say.”
A clatter echoed from inside. Edward must have dropped something. “What? Has Elizabeth said something to you?”
“Only that it is your decision whether you wish to turn your attentions to Katherine,” Agnes replied. “Apparently, Lizzy cares not what you do.”
Edward’s voice grew stronger. “Do not touch that, Agnes. It is mandrake root. Makes one sleep like the dead.” A moment later he said, “What does Elizabeth want? Does she not care for me?”
Alex leaned against the wall and shook his head. What was that vixen doing to her brother?
“Oh, I suppose she does,” Agnes said. “She doesn’t speak openly about her feelings. Katherine speaks not at all, yet her face and body reveal much. It is how I know of her desire for Alexander. This is why you must turn your attentions to her before he does.”
Almost bellowing his surprise, Alex jolted from the wall. Katherine desired him?
Agnes continued in a plea. “I want to be Lady Drayton. It is always what I have wanted. Will you court Lady Katherine?”
“No. Alex isn’t going to marry her, Ag. Or anyone. You heard what he said at his dinner table. He doesn’t want another wife.”
“Yes, he does,” Agnes said with clear irritation. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Footsteps approached the door. Feeling rather foolish for his covertness, Alex slid around the corner until Agnes had left the herbarium.
It mattered not what she said about Katherine. They were the words of a jealous, possessive woman. Nothing more.
****
Such a dark home, full of misery and loss.
Three days ago Lord Drayton had left for Kensington where there lived a prospective suitor.
Whom did he so eagerly seek to procure as Katherine’s husband?
She had to feel the sunlight on her face. A few minutes later, she was in her light summer cloak and outside.
Light. Warmth. She stood for a moment with her eyes squeezed shut, her face tilted to the sun. Here, she was at peace, could breathe without scrutiny.
A soaring hill beyond the barn beckoned to her with its height and open green span, and, gathering her skirts between her open hands, she slowly climbed it.
At the top, she turned and looked at the castle, a masculine splendor in gray stone. The late afternoon sun made jewels of the leaded window panes, so different than they had appeared on the rainy day of her arrival. Then, it had seemed that they had stared at her like so many hooded eyes.
On the front lawn, the shoddy boxwood cluster she had seen was actually an unkempt maze, clearly not enjoyed for many years. Beside it sat an almost unrecognizable knot garden, and further on, a dilapidated flower patch choked with weeds. It could be beautiful, with a little care. As could, perhaps, its owner.
Here on the hill, Katherine had a better view of the towering twin battlements flanking the castle in the back. The stones there were ancient and crumbling.
Millie stood at the bottom of the hill with her hands on her hips, plainly reluctant to climb it. Finally, she turned and walked to a stone bench in the middle of the flower garden, and plopped down on it.
The air up here held a delicate warmth. Katherine tugged off her hood with clumsy fingers, then shook out her hair in a rippling spill down over her shoulders.
It mattered not that she was outdoors with her hair loose and tangled. No one would see her, and no one cared.
She draped the cloak on the ground and sat down with a contented sigh. A quiet breeze caressed her cheek, and the sun swathed the top of her head like a warm hat.
The stillness out here, broken only by the twitter of birds and occasional far-off bleating of lambs, contradicted the steady racket that pervaded London’s busy streets. Perhaps the
tranquil peace would work its way into her heart.
But it only made her loneliness worse. She almost preferred London.
Lord Drayton sheltered her out of some favor to the king, but would be rid of her as soon as he could. When would that be? And who would want a destitute woman with no voice?
She swallowed at the lump in her throat and blinked back sudden tears. Raising her face to the sky, she took a deep breath, then lowered her head and coughed.
Damnation! Without warning, frustration and hopeless rage engulfed her at the fire that killed her father, at the heated smoke that stole her voice.
She closed her eyes and tried to quiet her thoughts, but only heard the screaming of the two children trapped in the townhouse next to hers. She crossed her arms over her knees and lowered her head.
The cries of the children trailed away as they had on that day. The silence on the hill became absolute.
No city noise, no plague, no fire, no one to tell her she had become an embarrassment or a burden.
No sanctuary, anywhere. She was utterly alone.
****
Alex rode Neos up his drive at the slowest possible pace. Even after three days away from her, taking his time both there and back, he couldn’t shake Katherine from his mind.
Thomas Bliss, Lord Wiltshire, would suit her perfectly. The baron owned a country estate as well as a London residence, and he and Katherine had probably met at one time or another. Since they no doubt socialized within the same circles, Wiltshire would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’d grown accustomed.
She probably couldn’t wait to return to fashionable London and its parties. As someone’s property in marriage, Katherine’s punishment for her father’s crimes would become invalid, and Wiltshire would treat her well.
Yes. Alex had done his part and could now let her go.
He glanced up at the top of his favorite hill, and then reigned in sharply.
There she sat, still and pensive, the wind caressing her long, beautiful brown tresses.
After a moment, he opened his mouth and gasped, and realized he’d stopped breathing.
She reached up and back, and brought her hair around to one shoulder. Despite the bulky bandages covering her hands, the movement was graceful and feminine, and it captivated him.
He hoped she wouldn’t look to her left and see him watching her because he knew he would continue staring. He simply couldn’t look away.
Then, she lowered her head, and her shoulders shook.
God’s nails. Was she weeping?
Alex’s hands tightened on the reins as pangs of guilt slammed into him. Her tears were his fault. She had lost her voice, her family, her home, and whatever dowry she’d had, and all he had done was to add to her misery by making her feel as if she were nothing but a burden to him. He’d even voiced this to Robert within her hearing. It was probably what had made her wander around and become trapped in her closet.
When had he become such an insensitive, heartless man?
Her father had been a spy, yes, and his death in the fire put the burden of punishment on Katherine to bear. But did she know what he’d done? Or was she pretending ignorance? Should Alex find out or just leave her alone?
While he pondered what to do, his horse whickered to another in the field nearby.
“Ah, Neos, you cannot be quiet, can you,” he murmured, and patted the horse on his silky gray neck as he looked back up at Katherine.
She had seen him and jumped to her feet. Hiking her skirts to her shapely ankles, she descended the hill.
Alex trotted Neos toward her. “Katherine.”
She stopped and looked up at him. Her face was pink from weeping, and in her eyes shone a tender vulnerability that twisted his heart into a knot.
He dismounted, unable to take his eyes off the sunlit copper glints in her hair. “You are the first woman since my mother to climb that hill. I go up there when I need to think.”
Katherine, looking tired and forlorn, nodded her understanding.
“You’ve lost a great deal.” Alex stared at the ground and struggled for words that he’d never spoken to anyone. “I also know of grief. Last year, I lost my wife when she killed herself.”
A guarded concern, and puzzlement, flickered in her eyes.
He went on, the words falling from his lips like a halting confession. “My parents died under the hands of Cromwell’s men when I was twelve.” Alex looked at an area of grass just beyond the drive. “There they were murdered. Then, one of the men came for me. While the others watched, he beat me and threw me onto my parents’ bodies. I suppose he thought I would die.”
Katherine stood very still, deep compassion now evident in the softness of her lips, the moist intensity of her eyes.
Alex touched the white scar along his jaw. “He wore a ring with some hard edge that cut me. Perhaps that saved my life, because my face was covered with blood.”
Why was he telling her all this? These memories only brought forth the surge of anger that he tried to keep locked up. But now it was too late, and his long-buried fury spilled forth. His voice became a growl in its intensity and he clenched his hands. “I have always wanted to find that man. I want to find his family and make him watch while I run them all through with my sword. And then I want to kill him.”
Katherine stumbled back with a frightened grimace, tears glistening in her wide eyes.
“No. Wait,” Alex said, walking toward her, hating himself for fouling this up. “I am sorry. ’Tis an old boyhood wound within me that has never healed. I just need to forget about it.” He speared his fingers through his hair. “I am not doing so well in helping you lessen your pain, am I?”
In answer, Katherine shook her head. For a frozen moment she wavered. Then, she moistened her lips, slowly reached out her hand, and folded her bandaged fingers over his.
Her gentle brown eyes and tender touch made Alex take a sudden, ragged breath. He looked down at her small hand in his and then enveloped it, gently and completely, with his.
And by the heavens, he wanted to take her in his arms and kiss away all her hurt. “Katherine, I—”
A sudden flap of wings and angry chirping broke the moment. Overhead, two birds carried on an in-air brawl, mayhap over some female.
Katherine blinked then, seeming to awaken from a dream, and pulled her hand from his. Without a glance back, she whirled and fled toward the house.
Alex stood staring after her with a mixture of bemusement and relief. Then, shoving out a breath, he remounted Neos and trotted the horse toward the barn.
He hadn’t asked her what she knew. But her acute compassion told him he didn’t have to.
Until she was protected by marriage, he would keep her safe.
****
That evening, as Katherine finished dressing for dinner, she frowned with concern at Millie’s despondent countenance. She placed a light hand on the maid’s shoulder.
“It’s yer hands, the bandages. Reminds me of Lady Drayton. She often—” Millie abruptly turned to the dressing table. She busily straightened the brush, comb, and ribbons in their case.
Katherine stepped closer to Millie and met her eyes in the mirror.
Finally, Millie spoke. “She bit her nails, tore at them until her fingers bled. I tried to keep them wrapped, but it didn’t help. She just took off the bandages. Two of her fingers lost the nails completely.”
Katherine’s fingertips stung afresh. In the mirror she caught her wince, but also saw the same sorrow she had felt this morning after Lord Drayton had shared his grief. Briefly felt, anyway, until he had gone into his tirade of revenge.
Did it matter that his heart could shatter, that he was not the unemotional boar he strove to appear? No. It did not. She would do well to remember not only that he wanted her gone from his life, but also that he was capable of a fierce vengeance.
What of the man he had gone to see in Kensington? She would try to write her questions during the meal.
“Lord Drayton sends her ladyship’s meal.”
Katherine stared at the tray in confusion.
“Her ladyship is going to the dining room,” Millie told the girl. She turned questioningly toward Katherine.
“But he ordered supper brought to her room,” the younger servant said.
Why? To make her stay in her bedchamber until her departure? Katherine’s cheeks flushed hotly and her heart drummed like the hooves of a runaway mare.
Oh, no. The scoundrel might think he could dictate every aspect of her life and frighten her with his seething male anger, but he was truly mistaken. Hot wrath rushed through her as she looked at Millie and pointed to her slate.
She strode past both servants out of her room.
Chapter Nine
When Katherine stood in the doorway of the dining room, Alex knew that his calm dinner, attended by Elizabeth, Robert, and two woman-chasing merchants from London, was at an end. But with her eyes ablaze and cheeks flaming color, Katherine’s fury only made her more beautiful.
“Good evening, Lady Katherine,” Robert said in a mild tone. Brows raised, his gaze lowered to her hands, then back to her face. “How are you?”
She acknowledged Robert with a curt nod and then resumed glaring at Alex, who, despite his decision to exclude her from this meal to keep her away from the lewd stares of the merchants, rose to help her into a chair next to Elizabeth. He drew in breath as he took in the graceful curve of her neck. Were he only able to lean down and touch his lips to her creamy, scented skin.
He crushed his thoughts and returned to his chair, giving an inward growl at the merchants licking their lips over her low bodice. Elizabeth, thankfully, had dressed with her customary modesty. “Your meal was sent to your room,” he said to Katherine, gesturing to a servant to bring writing supplies to the table. “Did you not receive it?”
Sitting on Alex’s left, Elizabeth flitted him a bird-like glance.
Katherine reached for the quill. Mouth set and brow furrowed in concentration, she brushed her hand over the pen until she could grasp it, then maneuvered it within the cotton bandages of her hand until it was upright.
