Blame It on Bath: The Truth About the Duke

by Caroline Linden

  “I’m very sorry, Mama. If you’d sent word you were arriving, I would have been better prepared to entertain you. But our engagement is with dear friends, and neither the captain nor I will offend them by breaking it.” She looked away from her mother’s expression of tragic betrayal and glanced at Lucien, who was watching her with an unfamiliar interest. “If you haven’t taken rooms yet, our man Bragg will be happy to help secure lodgings for you.”

  “We are at the White Hart Inn. We should go there and settle in, now that your things are delivered.” He contemplated her speculatively for a moment. “When Captain de Lacey returns, please give him my regards. I should like to have a word with him at some time.”

  “Of course.” Kate hid her surprise with a polite nod. “Thank you for bringing my things.”

  When her mother and Lucien left, Mama gazing at her with disapproval and disappointment, Kate sank down on the lid of a nearby trunk and drew in an unsteady breath. Part of her was amazed she’d actually defied her mother’s wishes and held firm. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how much her mother had controlled her life, but suddenly it became apparent that the last few weeks had been the first period of real independence in her life. Her mother had hovered over her when she was a child, constantly correcting and gently directing her in everything. Howe had imposed rules on her, although he left her much to her own devices so long as she obeyed them. Lucien was so intent on securing her money, he’d kept her a virtual prisoner. Only in Bath, away from her former life, did she feel bold enough—and even encouraged—to do as she wished. To visit the lending library whenever she liked. To buy a red dress. To lift her skirt in the dining room and make love to her husband on a chair.

  She was still sitting there, smiling a little in memory of the last, when the door opened and the man in question walked in. Kate jumped to her feet, flushing at the indecency of her thoughts. “You’re home early,” she exclaimed.

  “But welcome, I hope.” He winked at her as he doffed his hat and tossed his gloves on the table, then frowned at the trunks still blocking the hall. “What the devil is this?”

  “My trunks.” She waved one hand helplessly. “All my things.”

  “Ah. Bragg!” His man popped out of the door at the rear of the hall. “Let’s take these upstairs.”

  “They didn’t arrive alone.” Kate watched with slight shock as her husband stripped off his coat and hefted one end of the largest trunk himself as Bragg took the other end. “My mother and Lucien brought them to Bath personally.”

  Gerard shot her a sharp glance but said nothing. He and Bragg carried the trunk up the stairs and deposited it in her dressing room. Kate trailed along behind, watching with hidden admiration as her husband maneuvered the heavy trunk so easily.

  “We’ll get the other in a moment,” he said to Bragg, waving his man out the door. When Birdie appeared in the open doorway with a dust cloth in her hand, Gerard held up a hand. “A moment, Mrs. Dennis.” Then he closed the door and turned to Kate. “Is there a particular reason your mother and Lucien Howe felt compelled to journey all the way to Bath when a servant might have brought your trunks?”

  She twisted her hands together. “I don’t know. Lucien asked me to extend his best regards to you and indicated he would like a private word sometime.”

  “No doubt,” he said dryly. “And your mother?”

  Kate nibbled the inside of her lip. “She wishes to become better acquainted with you, she said.”

  He looked at her for a long moment. “I believe a little of your mother’s company goes a long way.”

  She blushed. “I already invited them to dine tomorrow evening. I’m sorry.”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” He came across the room and tipped up her chin until she looked at him. “I will see her as much as you wish to. Or as little.”

  “I cannot refuse to see my own mother.”

  “You don’t have to. But if you wish to find yourself otherwise engaged most evenings . . .”

  She bit her lip as his voice trailed off suggestively. It was tempting. She always felt dull and insignificant next to her beautiful, sparkling mother. How startling that Gerard should appear immune to Mama’s charm. “We are already engaged several evenings this week.”

  “I certainly won’t cancel an invitation from friends.”

  A smile crept over her face. “Nor would I.”

  “Well.” He grinned. “We shall dine with them tomorrow night. Perhaps they’ll become swept up in Bath society, and we shall be hoping for invitations from them.”

  She laughed, as he’d hoped she would. Gerard hoped his impressions of his mother-in-law and Lord Howe would improve on further acquaintance, but he doubted it. He sensed Mrs. Hollenbrook was drawn to titles and wealth, and that if he’d been Gerard de Lacey, son of a prosperous boot maker instead of the Duke of Durham, she wouldn’t have nearly as much interest in getting to know him. He remembered what Tyrell, Kate’s father’s attorney, had said: Mrs. Hollenbrook was eager for her daughter to marry well. There was nothing exceptional in that, particularly when the daughter was an heiress, but she’d chosen a middle-aged viscount for her only child. Gerard could think of no less than four good, decent men in the army, all sons of dukes or earls, all in the prime of life, who would have waited attendance on any heiress with more than ten thousand pounds, were she ugly, quarrelsome, or elderly. Kate was none of those. If she’d been brought out properly, dressed becomingly, she would have had more than one suitor. Instead she ended up stashed quietly in the country while Howe went about his business. Even Lady Eccleston, society spy premiere, had heard nothing of Kate.

  So why had Mrs. Hollenbrook been so keen on the Howe marriage? Was there something else between the families? Gerard didn’t know, but knowing how lonely and neglected Kate had been during her first marriage made him loath to spend much time with his mother-in-law.

  Nothing happened the next evening during dinner to change his mind. Mrs. Hollenbrook, for all her beauty, was the shallowest woman he’d ever met. To him, she was warm and solicitous; when he spoke to her, she gazed at him as if the sun shone at his command. Her demeanor toward Lord Howe was similar although with a touch of familiarity that put Gerard in mind of a mother artlessly embarrassing her grown son. But it was her effect on Kate that caught his attention more. When Kate spoke, her mother’s reply often had some subtle shade of rebuke, and Gerard watched in silent dismay as his wife grew quieter as the evening went on. Finally he understood the ice maiden. If one’s every word was judged lacking, why bother to speak?

  When the ladies excused themselves after dinner, Gerard caught Kate’s hand. “We won’t be long,” he breathed. He had no more desire to sit over port with Lucien Howe than he wanted to leave Kate to her mother’s mercies.

  She looked at him somberly, then the light was back in her eyes. “Good.” She smiled and went out with her mother.

  Relieved, Gerard waved to Bragg to pour the wine and bring out cigars. A quarter hour should be plenty of time, and they could rejoin the ladies.

  “I hope it is not presumptuous of me, de Lacey, but I must speak to you on business.” Howe faced him with grim resolve in his face.

  “So soon after dinner?” He really didn’t want to deal with “business” tonight.

  Howe’s lips thinned. “I came to Bath for nothing else.”

  “A letter would have sufficed.” Gerard tossed back the rest of his wine. A quarter hour was too long after all. “Shall we join the ladies?”

  A deep flush covered the other man’s face. “The ladies can wait. You must see reason; that note is ruinous. I cannot pay four percent.”

  Gerard raised one eyebrow. “Your uncle expected he could make the payments. Surely he knew his estate’s income.”

  “Perhaps,” said Howe in a stony voice. “Unfortunately he died a few months after signing it.”

  “Then where did the money go? Surely he didn’t spend all ten thousa
nd pounds in a few months.”

  The viscount glared at him. “Very nearly, much to my dismay.”

  Gerard snorted. “What terms do you want?”

  “Leniency. I need time—a year—to reorder my finances. A rate of two percent would be more reasonable, especially between family.”

  “What, pray, is our familial relation?” he asked sharply. “And I understand you don’t have to repay a farthing; there was a security, which you could simply cede or sell to pay off the debt.”

  “That property has been in my family for decades,” said Howe through his teeth. “Surely a gentleman would understand I cannot sell it.”

  “I expect you shall have to retrench, then. Make economies. Reduce travel, and perhaps tailoring bills.” Howe, in his fine evening clothes, turned white with fury at that, but Gerard didn’t care. He remembered overspending his pocket money as a young boy and having to ask his father for more, blithely confident it would be given without scolding because Durham was one of the richest estates in England. But his father, who hadn’t been born to wealth, made him shovel out stalls in the stables for a week to impress upon him the value of economy and the dangers of debt. He never forgot it. It irked him that Howe had assumed he would secure Kate’s fortune and so had done nothing to address the debt until she married someone else. It irked him that Howe’s manner of negotiating was to blame his uncle and glare at Gerard with barely concealed contempt and hatred. He’d known men who scrambled desperately to save their properties, selling the silver to satisfy creditors. It didn’t escape his notice that Howe’s first line of attack was to ask for reduced terms. True, Howe had inherited the debt; but nothing in his conduct since made Gerard feel disposed to forgive it.

  He rose. “Enough of business, sir. I hope you will join the ladies with me.”

  He went into the drawing room, Howe following in stiff silence. Both ladies looked up at his entrance with smiles, Mrs. Hollenbrook’s one of dazzling delight, Kate’s one of relief. He took the chair near her, feeling rather ready to be her knight again.

  Conversation lagged. Kate suggested cards, but her mother sighed and said cards were for larger parties. Gerard was glad for it; he knew Mrs. Hollenbrook would want to partner him, and he didn’t want to leave Kate to Howe.

  “Perhaps some music,” he suggested. No conversation was needed if there was music. From the corner of his eye he could see the clock on the mantel. Another hour, and the guests would go home if he had to tell Bragg to shove them out the door.

  “Sadly I do not play anymore,” said Mrs. Hollenbrook. “Katherine, dear, have you kept up your practicing? You were making such progress.”

  Kate looked self-conscious but got to her feet. “Very well, Mama.” She went to the pianoforte in the corner and opened the cover.

  Whatever her musical talent, it soon became clear the pianoforte needed to be tuned. One note in particular was flat. When she struck it the second time with a dissonant twang, Gerard leaped to his feet and began singing. The song was a well-known hymn. He crossed the room to the pianoforte, and whenever that one bad note came up, he sang particularly loudly. Kate soon barely touched that key, leading to an odd break in the sound when his voice rose and the instrument fell almost silent. Dogs all over the Square would be howling if we keep this up, Gerard thought, and nothing could encourage their guests to depart faster. Howe already looked sick to his stomach, and even Mrs. Hollenbrook’s mouth was pinched. Excellent. He reached out to turn the page of music and noticed Kate’s shoulders were shaking, her lips trembling. She glanced up at him with eyes teary with laughter, and he grinned in relief.

  If she could laugh about this, in front of her mother, all was well.

  Chapter 19

  Mama expressed a wish to visit the Pump Room the next day. Kate hadn’t gone yet, for a number of reasons, and so was curious to see the celebrated springs. Much to her mother’s delight, the room was filled with Bath’s most fashionable. Kate left her happily chatting with Lady Deane, also newly arrived in town, and went to fetch glasses of the mineral water.

  “Dear Lady Gerard!” Mrs. Woodforde descended on her, towing her admiral behind her. “How fortunate to see you here!”

  “How do you do?” Smiling, Kate dropped a curtsey. “It’s a pleasure to see you. This is my first visit to the Pump Room.”

  “First! Goodness, we come every morning, for the admiral’s health.”

  “We come for the society,” said her husband. He was a lean, weathered man with sharp eyes who didn’t look much in need of the healing waters.

  “Nonsense,” his wife protested. “We come for the waters. Now, Lady Gerard, have you signed the Visitor’s Book? You simply must; everyone signs it. It is quite the register of Bath!”

  “As I said,” murmured Admiral Woodforde. “The society.”

  His wife just rolled her eyes and tucked Kate’s arm firmly around her own. “We shall see who has arrived recently. My sister relies on me to report to her since Sir Philip disavows any need of the waters and of course Barbara herself would never dream of admitting weakness. Here we are.” She turned the page, making no secret of her interest. “Lady Hurst has arrived! But you must meet her, my dear; she is a bit eccentric but wonderfully entertaining. Five husbands she’s had—oh, the stories she can tell!” Mrs. Woodforde giggled, skimming down the next page. “Mr. Westley! Oh, a very foolish man. If ever he asks you to dance, you must refuse at once. I wouldn’t receive him, either. Your ears won’t recover for days.”

  “Katherine dear, have you forgotten me?” Her mother came up beside them. “I thought you were to fetch the water.”

  “Yes, Mama, I met my neighbor, Mrs. Woodforde, and stopped to greet her.” Kate turned to Mrs. Woodforde, who was pretending not to listen. “Mrs. Woodforde, may I present my mother, Mrs. Hollenbrook. Mama, my neighbor. The Woodfordes live across Queen Square. Her sister, Lady Darby, has the house next to ours.”

  Eyeing each other with curiosity, the ladies curtsied. “How pleasant to make your acquaintance,” said Mama with one of her beautiful, rather dreamy smiles.

  “And yours,” cried Mrs. Woodforde. “My sister and I envy you completely, ma’am, for having such a fine daughter. She has brightened Queen Square to no end.”

  “Really?” Her mother turned to Kate in surprise. “She was always such a quiet girl.”

  “Oh, you’ve no cause for complaint,” Mrs. Woodforde said quickly. “Lady Gerard is a perfect lady! So fashionable, so amiable, and so charmingly doted on by her husband.” She tittered, with a glance at Kate that made her blush. “He’s a lucky man to have her.”

  “Oh. Yes,” murmured Mama, looking a bit shocked. “It was quite a surprise when they married. He is one of the Durham family, you know. Katherine was raised in Sussex, near the ducal seat, but I never dreamed one of the sons would deign to look at her.”

  “Pish. He’s a very clever fellow, that Captain de Lacey. Much like my husband the admiral—where did he go?” Mrs. Woodforde craned her neck, but her husband had strolled away. “Oh, he’s off with Mr. Thorpe again, no doubt talking about cricket.” She waved one hand with a smile. “But Captain de Lacey, I am sure, recognized a gem when he saw one. Especially today, when you look as pretty as a rose, my dear!” She winked at Kate, who smiled in return.

  Mama regarded Kate’s deep pink dress with a shadow of doubt. “You’ve taken such a turn, Katherine. You never wore pink before.”

  “I like it, Mama.”

  “Of course, dear,” said her mother. “It’s just a young lady’s color, really.”

  At her slight emphasis on the word “young,” Mrs. Woodforde’s head came up and her eyes narrowed. She glanced at Kate, who tried to smile as if it meant nothing. Cora had assured her the pink was flattering, and she did like it. Her mother just wasn’t accustomed to seeing her in it.

  “I was talking with Lady Deane, Katherine, and she mentioned that the Countess of Swinton has just arrived in Bath. I beli
eve, my dear, the Earl of Swinton is related very distantly to your husband. You must call on her.” Mama beamed as if she’d just laid a great prize at Kate’s feet.

  “I’ve never heard him speak of Lady Swinton, but I will ask, Mama.”

  “A bit high in the instep, Lady Swinton,” said Mrs. Woodforde to Kate but with her gaze on Mama.

  “I’m sure she would be delighted to meet her new kinswoman.” Mama smiled at Mrs. Woodforde. “Family is so important, you know.”

  “If the captain wishes to call on her, of course we shall,” said Kate. “But I wouldn’t wish to intrude on Lady Swinton otherwise.”

  “Oh, you must, Katherine,” protested her mother. “She moves in the very best circles.”

  Kate wanted to walk away in mortification. Her mother was a terrible snob—oddly so, since she herself was only the daughter of a baron and the widow of a merchant. From Mrs. Woodforde’s expression, she took Mama’s meaning all too well. Suddenly Kate felt a flicker of anger. Mrs. Woodforde wasn’t very fashionable, and her husband wasn’t titled, but they were kind and warm, and had been friendly to her when she knew no one. She raised her chin. “I move in very nice circles as well, Mama. Mrs. Woodforde has become such a dear friend in only a few weeks. She and the admiral were so welcoming to me and Gerard.” She used her husband’s Christian name on purpose, unable to resist flaunting a little bit of intimacy.

  Her neighbor smiled back at her, a touch proudly. “The best circles, I always say, are the ones filled with good company, regardless of their ranks.”

  “I quite agree.” Kate grinned back at her.

  “I merely wish you not to neglect your duty, Katherine,” said her mother, opening her eyes wide. “Even if you do not care for rank, it wouldn’t do to offend your husband’s family.”

  Kate doubted Gerard would be very upset if they didn’t call on Lady Swinton. He’d never once mentioned her name. He seemed to prefer the company of his army mates like Lieutenant Carter, and so did she.