“My fortune is over one hundred thousand pounds, including the loan Lucien still owes.”
Indeed. That was far more than he had expected, and Gerard had to work hard to keep his astonishment from showing. He could tell from her face that the sum was her trump card, that she expected him to be bowled over by the amount and fall to his knees, stammering acceptance. And damn it all, it was a near call. Many men would have, even those not caught in the coils of his present situation. Gerard hated to admit it, but part of him wanted to do it. He’d wanted to find a wealthy bride, and here was one presenting herself to him without any effort on his part—yet—and with a larger fortune than he’d even hoped for. All he had to say was yes.
But the other, more cynical, part of him wasn’t about to be bought that easily. Marriage was forever, as his father had demonstrated all too well, and the only thing worse than not being able to find a wife was having one he would give anything to be rid of. Gerard had seen men who had sold themselves for a fortune and spent the rest of their lives repenting the poor bargain. Katherine Howe didn’t look intimidating, but he’d seen enough steel in her to know she wasn’t going to be a quiet, biddable wife who never troubled him. Not even for a hundred thousand pounds would Gerard let himself be tied to her apron strings or kept under her thumb, and she might as well realize that now.
“Impressive,” he said carelessly. “What else? There’s more to marriage than money.”
For the first time a spot of color came into her cheeks. “I won’t be a demanding wife, Captain, but I will be a loyal one. I shall do my utmost not to impose on you. I know I’m not a beauty, and I am old, past the usual age for bearing children. But in every other respect I shall give you no reason to regret wedding me.”
“Then you don’t intend this to be a sterile marriage of convenience?”
The color in her face grew brighter. “I would be satisfied with one. But if you insist on more, I will agree.”
And then she would lie there like a wooden doll, he thought. It must be a sign of what lengths she would go to in order to persuade him. She obviously wasn’t keen on the prospect, given her stiff, prickly attitude and obvious disinterest in lovemaking. He didn’t see the need to force a wife to accommodate him when he could easily find someone else who would actually enjoy the experience. Still, he didn’t want to tie himself for life to a cold, untouchable woman. Who knew—perhaps with a little coaxing, Katherine Howe would thaw and soften. Some men might see it as a challenge to warm her up. Gerard, unfortunately, tended to be one of those men.
“Very well,” he replied opaquely, neither confirming nor denying her implied question. “But—you’ll pardon my wariness—your proposal comes with some significant shadows about it. You’ve done your research; I hope you’ll allow me to do mine as I ponder your proposal.”
“Of course.” She put one hand into her pocket and drew out a sealed letter. “You may speak to my father’s solicitor in the City, who knows all the particulars. This letter will assure him he may speak to you in confidence. I hope that will be sufficient.”
Gerard took the packet and tapped it against his knee. “It should be.” Along with some other discreet probing of his own, of course. “How shall I inform you of my decision? Where is your home?”
“You cannot come to the house,” she said quickly. “Whatever your answer is. I—I shall return here. How long do you need?”
“I hadn’t planned to stay that long,” Gerard said, watching her from beneath lowered eyelids. “I have pressing concerns elsewhere and expected to quit London in the morning.”
She didn’t move. “Should I take that as refusal?”
“No.” He turned her letter over, gingerly, as one might handle any dangerous object. Was this the solution to his quandary or an invitation to further disaster? “Not yet.”
“I also would appreciate an answer as soon as possible,” she said.
He glanced at her. “So you can find another candidate if I say no.”
“Yes.” She spat the word out.
“Very well.” Gerard sat forward in his chair. “Two days? Three?”
She flinched backward at his movement, but nodded. “Yes. I can return in three nights.”
“I suppose I can’t offer to escort you home.”
“No, that isn’t necessary.” She got to her feet, and Gerard did the same. Although not a tiny thing, she still only came to his shoulder. Watching her intently in the firelight, Gerard caught the flicker of unease in her face as she sized him up from so close. He wondered if her husband had beaten her; she had the defiant but skittish posture of someone who’d been abused. “Thank you,” she said stiffly, raising her gaze to his.
He bowed, never looking away from her face. “It appears I should thank you. I shall expect you in three nights.”
She just nodded, and he turned to go. At the door he paused and looked back at her. He held up the letter, which had his name written on the front in a neat, small hand. “Were you that certain I would say yes?”
“No.” She was pulling her cloak around her again but met his eyes steadily. “But I was that certain you would consider it.”
Chapter 3
The second the door closed behind Captain de Lacey, Katherine whirled to Mrs. Dennis. “What do you think, Birdie?” she whispered as she retied her cloak. “What is your impression of him?”
Birdie snorted, reaching for her own cloak. “Determined. Suspicious. Not used to being thwarted. That one’ll work out every secret you have.”
“But big,” Katherine said softly, casting another glance at the door. “And strong.” Gerard de Lacey was tall and broad and all man. Not fat in the slightest, and he looked strong enough to break her in two. When he’d reached out to take the letter from her, just the size of his hands had taken her aback. She remembered him as a tall stripling of a fellow, his boyish face alight with laughter. That had been over a decade ago, but she hadn’t been able to alter the image in her mind. The Gerard she remembered was kind and patient, even to a plain, awkward girl too shy to speak properly to him. She knew she hadn’t improved in looks, but at least she’d become bolder.
Of course he barely resembled that boy in her memory, from the several stone of muscle he’d put on to the way his face had filled out and grown sharply attractive. When he stepped into the room, her first thought was that Birdie must have knocked on the wrong door and summoned the wrong man, a powerful, dangerous man with a cynical intelligence glinting in his eyes. Not until she took a step forward and got a better look at his face was she assured it really was Gerard de Lacey, the charming boy grown into a man. It was clear he didn’t remember her at all—she hadn’t really expected him to although some stupid corner of her heart harbored hope that he might, just a little. Once she saw him, though, it was almost a relief he did not. If she’d known before their meeting how much he had changed . . .
But she hadn’t. Katherine tried not to think about those changes except as they related to her immediate need, and not how much they appealed to more frivolous feelings like attraction. She needed a husband who would stand between her and Lucien Howe’s demands. Gerard de Lacey needed a wife with money. Whether he was strong and broad-shouldered, or skinny and balding, all that mattered was his willingness to help her. She had chosen him mainly for his family connections and his need of her, not his physical appeal. She would do well to keep that thought firmly in mind, and all others out.
She finished tying her cloak and pulled the hood far down over her face until she could only see the floor in front of her. Birdie went to the door and peered cautiously out, then whispered for her to come. Without a word Katherine followed. Her heart had barely calmed down from the shock of Captain de Lacey’s appearance and the stress of their interview; now it thumped hard and fast inside her chest as they hurried quietly down the back corridor of the inn and out the door to the stand of trees near the road where they had told the hired hackney to wait. If she go
t caught sneaking out of London this way, it wouldn’t matter what the captain decided; she’d never be able to get out of the house again to hear his answer.
The driver had drifted off to sleep on his box but roused when Birdie poked his foot. Katherine climbed into the carriage without looking his way. A moment later Birdie joined her, and the cab lurched forward.
“I offered him an extra half crown if he gets us back before the hour,” Birdie said.
“Very good.” Katherine undid the bundle of clothing left on the floor of the carriage. She knew they were cutting it very fine with this expedition and hadn’t a moment to waste. She shook out her nightdress and handed it to Birdie with her slippers.
“You spoke longer than anticipated with him.” Birdie took the cloak from her when Katherine pulled it off. “Was he not what you expected?”
“Partially.” Katherine stripped off her gloves and began unbuttoning her dress. “Not quite as I remembered him, but he’ll do.”
Birdie sniffed. She had fretted over this from the moment Katherine told her of it, but like the dutiful abigail she was, she hadn’t argued. Katherine still felt Birdie’s worry, for it scraped at the edges of her own mind. She had turned this plan over in her mind for some time, but choosing the captain in particular was the act of an impulse. She saw his name—or rather, his father’s name—in the scandal papers, and the idea came to her like a bolt of lightning. She had been straining to think of a gentleman who might suit her purpose and be amenable to her suggestion, and here was one she knew, however slightly, and even admired, however secretly, in dire need of someone just like her. It seemed a sign of divine providence.
It had taken her two days to learn where to find him without arousing suspicion, and then she had almost missed him entirely, for he was about to leave town. Birdie paid a large percentage of Katherine’s dwindling pin money to a groom at Durham House to find out where he was headed. By a stroke of good fortune, Lucien was out that night at one of his meetings, and Katherine was able to plead a headache to her mother, then sneak out with Birdie after dinner. Then they traveled all the way across London, over the river to this inn on the main road away from town. It took quite some time, but Katherine was immensely grateful it was even possible. Just one more day of delay would have meant disaster, for the captain would have been too far out of town for her to catch.
Not that she was safe yet, though. She wriggled out of the dress and petticoat, and Birdie bundled them into a ball. It took some doing to unlace her stays and get them off in the dark, narrow carriage, even with Birdie’s help, but she finally slipped her nightdress over her head. She took off her shoes and put on her slippers over her woolen stockings. The chill night air raised gooseflesh on her limbs, and she shivered as she pulled the cloak gratefully back around herself.
“You’ll catch your death of cold,” muttered Birdie. “Such foolishness this was.”
“It would have been more foolish to do nothing,” Katherine replied.
“Hard to say yet.”
“I say so.”
Birdie’s mouth twisted, but she said nothing more. She motioned with one hand. “Turn, so I can take down your hair.”
Katherine obediently twisted on the seat. She clenched her teeth as Birdie tugged and pulled, fishing out the handful of pins that secured her hair in a tight knot at her neck. She wished she’d been able to meet the captain looking well dressed and groomed instead of like a runaway from the workhouse, but it was vital she not be seen or recognized. Her mother had assured Lucien that Katherine would surely accept his proposal, so he grudgingly allowed her some freedom. If he came to suspect she was scheming to wed someone else and deprive him of her money, he would put an end to it at once. And to be honest, Katherine admitted that even at her best, her looks weren’t likely to sway the captain one way or another. Perhaps it was better that he saw her first at her most drab; then she could only improve on further acquaintance.
Birdie was just plaiting her hair into a long braid when the carriage slowed to a stop. Again the abigail stepped down first, waving behind her back for Katherine when it was safe. Head down, she slipped from the cab and walked quickly away, whisking into the darkest shadows in an alley nearby. After Birdie paid the driver and the cab rattled away over the cobbles, Katherine peeked around the corner. The square was dark and quiet. The house across the street was also rather dark, which was a good sign; Lucien probably wasn’t home yet.
Birdie hustled up and Katherine handed her the bundle of clothes. Together they hurried silently across the street, circling the square until they reached the mews near the house. Again Birdie went in first. Katherine huddled in her cloak, waiting, sure the pounding of her heart would be audible to each and every neighbor. She listened to Birdie talk with the housekeeper for a moment, then with a male servant. The minutes ticked by, and her feet grew numb in her slippers. She could hear an occasional carriage rattle past on the street in front of the house but kept her eyes resolutely fixed on the door.
Finally Birdie opened it and beckoned to her. Instantly Katherine slipped into the house, shedding her cloak in one quick motion into Birdie’s waiting arm. Her abigail pressed a candle into her hand and pushed her toward the stairs. “He’s home,” she whispered, putting her cheek almost against Katherine’s as she draped a shawl around her shoulders. “Go quietly.”
Katherine nodded. Her nerves were gone now, for the most part. She was back in the house, dressed for bed, with no proof she’d been away. She mounted the stairs quietly but no longer afraid of being caught.
Which, of course, she was, by Lucien himself, in the corridor outside her room. “There you are,” he said in his vaguely reproving way. “You weren’t in your room.”
Of course he looked in her room. He considered every inch of the house his, open to his inspection at any moment. Katherine walked past him and opened her door, no longer wasting her breath in protesting it. “I wanted a cup of tea and went to fetch Birdie.”
“She should answer the bell,” he said, following her into the room but leaving the door open. “I’ve half a mind to sack such a lazy servant.”
“She is my abigail, and I would be lost without her. I gave her leave to go out this evening since I was indisposed.” Katherine hated to subject Birdie to Lucien’s censure, but everyone knew Birdie had left the house. There was nothing to gain by trying to hide it. At least claiming she had given Birdie permission to go meant Lucien couldn’t direct his full ire on the abigail. Katherine set her candle down on the mantel. The room looked as she had left it, a fire burning low and a lamp glowing on the table by the armchair near the hearth. “Why were you looking for me?”
He glanced pointedly at the bed, cloaked in shadows in the corner but clearly untouched. “I wished to see that you were well, but obviously you are. Your headache, I presume, is better?”
“Some. I couldn’t sleep,” she said evenly. “I was reading.” She gestured toward the chair.
He walked over and picked up the book she had left on the table. “Tillotson’s Sermons.” He glanced at her, pleasure lighting his face for the first time. “I’m pleased to see you reading it.”
“Every night.” Lucien had given her the book and urged her to read it, so she did. Every night she read another sentence or two, just to prove it. She might have had more respect for Lucien’s devout faith if he hadn’t used it as a cudgel against her, berating her for any sign of independence or gaiety, which he termed willfulness and indecency. Katherine never thought of herself as a frivolous person, but her heart and soul strained against the dour, obedient cage into which Lucien wanted to shut her. Even her late husband Lord Howe enjoyed the theater, and he’d certainly had no objection to drink and fine clothing.
Lucien turned the book over, seeing where she had marked her place. “I see you haven’t progressed far.”
“I have tried to give it the thought and consideration you requested.”
He shot her a keen
look, but Katherine knew her face was placid and serene. She had become quite expert at masking any sign of impatience or disgust, happiness or eagerness, any emotion at all, really. Howe had liked his wife to be ever calm and undemanding; vigorous emotion wasn’t healthy for women, he claimed. Lucien only enlarged upon that desire, wanting her to be subservient and biddable, subjecting herself to his judgment at all times. Katherine sometimes wasn’t sure if she still knew how to smile or laugh, although she was pretty certain she could still lose her temper, given enough privacy and space to do so. Even now, when the chill of her evening’s daring escapade still clung to her skin and Lucien watched her with sharp, critical eyes, she could feel the heat of fury licking at the edges of her mind. She couldn’t give in to it, but she could still feel it.
“I hope it will show you enlightenment on what you must do,” Lucien said. His moment of approval had faded already, and he fixed a stern eye on her. “You cannot put it off forever, Katherine.”
“I hardly think it has been forever,” she replied. “Not even a year yet of mourning for your uncle.”
He pressed his lips together in irritation and glared at her, but he was caught by his own words there. Lucien had never been subtle about his belief that a woman should obey every dictate of propriety, and at first he praised her circumspection. Then he learned how badly indebted his inherited estate was to her, however, and his views on mourning periods underwent a marked change. Katherine had used that mourning like a shield as she tried to find a way out, but she had a feeling Lucien would soon declare her mourning—and his patience—at an end. Katherine pictured tall, strong, handsome Gerard de Lacey facing down Lucien, whisking her away from the grim, ascetic life Lucien planned, and said a silent prayer he would agree to her proposal.
“Nevertheless,” Lucien said in a cool voice, “we cannot delay forever, my dear. Your respect for my late uncle’s memory does you great credit, but we must secure the estate. I am sure no one could fault you for shortening your mourning when the circumstances are so pressing. You know we came to town only to settle your affairs and make arrangements for the wedding. I expect us to be married by the end of this month at the very latest.”
Blame It on Bath: The Truth About the Duke Page 3
