It transpired that Kate was actually a good pianist, though she had never enjoyed it as much as painting. Jack had a lusty tenor voice, and accompanied by her, sang many a rollicking ballad, while his mother laughed and clapped her hands.
His mother also read to them from her newest work, and it amused him greatly to hear his wife making suggestions for her gothic tales.
“It is actually very uncomfortable to be kidnapped,” Kate said. “And even a heroine feels quite helpless with her hands and feet tied, bumping along in a fast carriage. And kicking your attacker does not do much good unless you are wearing stout half boots instead of slippers. And sometimes your hero gets shot and is no good at all.” At this she peeped at him under her lashes.
He laughed, and they joined in.
As he was still recovering, during the night, he merely held her in his arms and stroked her hair, while she nuzzled her head under his chin. They talked of past, present, and future.
“I am sorry I was so horribly ill-tempered when you were pulling your ox out of the mire,” she told him.
“I am sorry I was so abominably rude about poor Francesco,” he answered in his turn.
“I thought you had another woman.”
“No, Katherine. It was always you. You are the one and only minx in my life. And you always will be.”
“What if we have a daughter, my lord?”
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “I do not even want to think about that possibility.”
Kate giggled. “She will bring you right about her thumb. I can foresee it all now.”
“When we go to Italy, she is staying home.”
* * *
Finally, knowing his wife was anxious, he proclaimed himself well enough for the relatively short drive to Berkshire to rescue Joey. They set out on a lovely June morning that promptly clouded over before they had gone five miles. By ten miles, rain was sluicing down in torrents. and they were forced by the state of the roads to stop at an inn.
Inasmuch as it took several days for the mud to dry and permit them to go further, Jack persuaded Kate that he was well enough to resume making love to her. They spent their respite in the Rose and Crown almost entirely in bed, enjoying a second honeymoon. His desire for her only grew greater as she became increasingly more responsive and loving.
“My Kate, I believe I have tamed you, at last.”
“You need not be so smug. I predict you will miss my shrewishness.”
“Perhaps, on occasion, you could manage a little storm in a teapot, or to make a mountain out of a molehill.”
“I plan to take the reins occasionally, as well. Just to keep my hand in.”
* * *
When they finally reached Eton and asked to see the headmaster, they were shown in to his comfortable study, lined with books and overlooking the cricket field. Memories flooded Jack. How he had loved it here. It had been such a sturdy, predictable environment for a boy who had lived his life waiting for the next violent outburst. Had he been any older than eight when he was sent here, it might have been too late for him to learn that there was safety in the world and grown men who were kind.
This headmaster, Mr. Addison, was tall and very slim, quite young, but balding prematurely.
Kate explained their mission. “My stepbrother, Joseph Wood, is in the fifth form. He was sent here by his former guardian. However, since my marriage, my husband has become his guardian. We wish to take him home with us, where he will be taught by a tutor.”
Mr. Addison’s face changed from bland interest to active attention. He adjusted the pince nez on his nose. “Joseph Wood is your stepbrother?” he asked.
“Yes. I just said so. Why? I cannot believe he has been disobedient.”
“Not in the least. Why do you wish to remove him from Eton?”
“I thought that would be quite obvious,” she said. “His stutter must make him a figure of fun.”
“His stutter? Does he have a stutter?”
Kate looked at Jack, puzzled. He took over the interview. “It is quite pronounced, according to my wife, Mr. Wood.”
“All I know is that he is our number one cricket batter. He is breaking records right and left.”
“Joey?” Kate asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Addison said. “Perhaps he has found his feet here at Eton. He is very well regarded, I assure you. More than one time, he has been carried off the field on his teammates’ shoulders.”
“Oh, merciful heavens!” Kate exclaimed. “Can it be that horrible Cousin Freddie was right after all?”
“What a facer,” Jack said, and began to laugh. “Kate, do you realize what this means?”
Turning to him in her astonishment, she said, “Yes. I need not have married you after all!” His wife joined him in laughter and threw herself into his arms. He welcomed her there with a passionate kiss.
When they turned to Mr. Addison, they saw that he was standing transfixed, eyebrows up and blinking very fast. Clearly, the headmaster of Eton College was shocked to his toes.
“Umm. There is a game this afternoon. Perhaps you would care to watch Joseph?”
“Oh, that would be perfect!” Kate said.
And so it was that Jack first became acquainted with his brother-in-law as he stepped up to bat. Instead of a cringing stutterer, he saw a large young man with a good set of shoulders who knew instinctively how to hold a cricket bat.
“He’s a fine young fellow, Kate.”
“Yes. And I know no one can replace the brother you lost, but Joey will find his own place in your heart.”
“And my mother’s. God bless you, Kate, for all the happiness you have brought into our lives.”
“You will not miss chasing spies?”
“And risk getting shot again? No. I cannot afford to be out of commission.”
Joey hit the ball with a crack of the bat.
When Jack had finished cheering him on, Kate asked, “Out of commission?”
“I have a family to sire, my dear.” Putting his arm about her, he kissed the end of her nose. “I cannot believe you have forgotten.”
The End
Miss
Braithwaite’s
Secret
A Regency Romance
G.G. Vandagriff
THE PLAYERS IN MISS BRAITHWAITE’S SECRET
Miss Caroline (Caro) Braithwaite—A debutante in her first London Season, considered “The Incomparable”
The Marchioness of Northbrooke, Katherine (Kate) Bailey-Wintersham—Recently married and now neighbor of Caro’s in Wiltshire.
The Marquis of Northbrooke, John (Jack) Bailey-Wintersham—Kate’s husband, Caro’s childhood sweetheart and nearest neighbor in Wiltshire.
Lord and Lady Jonathan Braithwaite—Caro’s parents.
The Dowager Marchioness of Northbrooke, Serena Bailey-Wintersham—Jack’ mother
Members of the House Party:
The Duke and Duchess of Ruisdell—a young couple intimate with the Northbrooke’s.
The Marquis of Somerset—An intimate of the Duke’s and the biggest gossip in England
Miss Violet Archer—The Duchess of Ruisdell (Elise’s) childhood friend
The Duke of Beverley, Edward (Ned) Fitzhugh—Caro’s secret love interest who has, unbeknownst to anyone, broken her heart.
The Marquis of Cleaverings—Stephen—Playmate of the dowager in Devon, cousin to the Marchioness of Northbrooke and heir to her father’s estate.
Other players:
Lady Sarah Randolph—former fiancé of Duke of Beverley
Lord Harry- Retired soldier, son of Cleaverings, and suitor for Caro’s hand.
Lord William-Vicar, son of Cleaverings, and suitor for Caro’s hand.
CHAPTER ONE
IN WHICH OUR HEROINE
IS NOT ENTIRELY TRUTHFUL
“Caro, your mother told me that you were unhappy in London,” the marchioness of Northbrooke said to her friend with the forthrightness for which she was known. It was the first time t
hey had met since Caro’s return from Town last month. They were sitting in Caro’s mother’s rose garden, and the scents that hung heavily in the humid air presaged a thunderstorm. A lazy bumblebee tumbled off a blossom and buzzed into flight between them.
The smile on Miss Caroline Braithwaite’s face remained fixed.
Drat, Mama!
Effecting a yawn, she said, “Kate, I love Mama dearly, but she does have this penchant for making a drama of everything. It was nothing worse than ennui. You remember—every night, a different entertainment. Smiles all round. Every afternoon, calls or an at-home and then a ride in the park. Everyone’s eyes upon one. Every bit of conversation so insincere.”
“I thought that certainly, but had no idea that you did. You were so vastly popular! The Season’s Incomparable! And a person less likely than you to suffer ennui, I have never known.” Kate’s eyes grew stern. “Come now. Cut line, as Jack would say. World-weariness does not suit you in the least.”
Caro stripped the petals from the coral rose in her lap, but did not reply.
Kate stood, hands on her hips, winged eyebrows raised. With that note of authority Caro dreaded, she said, “Tell me who he is and what he did to you.”
“You and Jack suit each other down to the ground,” she said. “You sound just like him. I pity your children!”
“I am sure parenthood will be a humbling experience for us both. Now! Caro! Out with it, my girl.”
“Very well. I fancied myself in love, Kate. Completely taken in, as it turned out. I thought he loved me, too. But I was sadly mistaken in him. He found someone he liked better. They became engaged almost overnight. End of tale. Now, are you satisfied, you ghoul?”
Her friend swooped down upon her and pulled her up off the low garden wall into a comforting embrace. Kate’s warmth and jasmine scent surrounded Caro. There was, when all was said and done, nothing like a friend. How glad she was that Kate had married Jack and come to live in her Wiltshire neighborhood.
“Oh, Caro. How horribly grim. Who is the beggar? I am certain Jack would be glad to shoot him for you.”
“I would rather no one knew what a fool I made of myself. Mama and Papa do not even know. If you knew, you would think I aspired too high. But he did encourage my affections. I swear it.”
“Did he know that you loved him, Caro? Though you are a sad rattlepate in regards to everything else, about your own affairs, you are divinely reticent. And you had so many suitors. You were always surrounded. Perhaps he just thought he was one of the crowd.”
“To his credit, he did not know of my feelings.” She rolled a velvety petal on the palm of one hand, then crushed it. She was not about to admit the frightfully strong attraction she had felt for the man who lived so vividly in her memory. It had overwhelmed her. She had been reticent.
“But to have this man become engaged right before your eyes!” Kate said.
It had been brutal. Caro had lain awake in bed at night and remembered his face as it had looked right before he kissed her hand. Those soulful, deep blue eyes were his most speaking feature, and he had had a special way of fixing her with them as though they shared a secret of vital importance. That look had turned her knees to water, though she would not admit it to another human being.
Briskly brushing off her skirt, Caro rid it of flowers and endeavored to sound practical. “Pray, do not refine upon it anymore. I am not threatening to go into a decline. I am home to do the fête. You have never been here for one, but I adore the fête. It is my pet project. In the past few years, Jack’s mother has left it to me, as such things are not to her taste. I always write a play for the children.” She smiled at her friend. “This year, my drama is to be based on the Mother Goose Nursery Rhymes. I am going to throw myself into a whirl of activity. The women in the village will do the costumes. Perhaps you could ply your brush to help with the scenery if you have time.”
“Of course. But I hope you can find time for a house party! I came over this morning expressly to invite you.”
A house party! Caro felt misgivings worm in her breast. Though she vigorously denied it, she had come home to avoid society and any word she might hear of him. “Who is to be there, Kate?”
“Only a few people. You know my cousin, the duchess of Ruisdell, and her husband, the duke.”
“Oh, yes. Elise is someone I truly admire. And I know Jack is particularly fond of the duke.”
Maybe it would not be so terrible. She would like to further her acquaintance with the Ruisdells.
“Do you know Ruisdell’s friend, the marquis of Somerset?”
Caro frowned. “He is the biggest gossip in England.”
“Well, he once did a favor for Jack, besides being an intimate of the duke. And we have a further reason for inviting him. Elise’s great friend Violet will be coming. The duchess is hoping a spark will ignite between the two of them.”
“Maybe if he gets married, Somerset will cease to be a troublemaker.” Caro hoped this would be the case. “But it seems that if I come, the numbers will be wrong.”
“No. The duke is bringing another friend. Someone who wants cheering up, apparently. Another patron of Elise’s soup kitchen, so he is bound to be worthy. Jack likes him. Further evidence that he is certain to be a good sort. But Jack does not want me to fuss. He is teasing me by withholding the man’s name.” She gave Caro another brief embrace and then stood back, her face alight with glee. “You have not heard the best part, however!”
“What is that?”
“Jack and I are doing some matchmaking of our own. We have invited an old beau of his mother’s.”
Kate twirled and then curtseyed as though taking a bow, holding out the edge of her primrose muslin gown. Caro laughed. “Is he in his dotage?”
“Serena is only just fifty. He is her age. They grew up together in the parish next to mine in Devonshire.” Kate sat down on the garden wall next to Caro and took one of her hands, squeezing it in her excitement. “It is the most amazing thing, but we are distantly related. He is become the new Marquis of Cleaverings!”
Caro’s mood lightened genuinely at her friend’s delight. “That is famous! Is he very handsome? I call it unfair that men never lose their looks, but just grow more distinguished.” Her spirits were on the rise. Maybe it would be fun to be part of such a romantically ambitious house party. It was not like Caro to entertain the doldrums.
“I have only met him once, last month when he came into Papa’s title. He is going gray, but has all his hair and all his teeth. Only a very slight paunch.” Kate giggled. “So it is bound to be a lovely party, don’t you agree? Everyone is descending upon us on Friday. Just for the weekend.” She clasped Caro’s hands in hers. “I am persuaded that the very best thing for you at this moment is to be taken out of yourself, Caro. Besides which, you are so ornamental. Can we count on you?”
“Oh, I think so. It does sound like fun,” Caro said. She forced herself to enter the spirit of the occasion, just as she would have done when they were living together with their aunts in London. “Only three days to get ready. I must get my wardrobe in order. There are repairs to make. I wonder if Mrs. Feather could run me up a new evening gown. I have a particular fashion plate in mind in the La Belle Assemblée.” She looked at her friend with affection. “You will not put me all alone in the east wing, will you?” Caro considered Jack’s Gothic mansion a fright, though Kate had made significant improvements in the single month since she had been married.
“Of course not. You shall be in the buttercup yellow room down the hall from me. Darling Caro!” Kate said, standing back and studying her, her gray-blue eyes glinting with pleasure. “I am convinced this is exactly what you need!”
* * *
When Kate had taken her leave, Caro went to communicate the happy tidings to her Mama.
“Oh, I foresee a tangle of delicious complications!” Lady Jonathan said with a chirping laugh. “I am coming to know Kate as a very managing sort of woman. Not always with the
results she intends.”
“But she always does it with the warmest heart,” Caro said.
“I am given up being sorry you did not accept Jack when he asked you to marry him. I can see that they suit one another perfectly. And I have seen such a change in Serena. It is time she had some happiness in her life. She is so looking forward to having Kate’s stepbrother come down from Eton for the summer holiday. He is become a renown cricketeer, you know.”
“I only hope I can keep the dowager and Kate from managing me. They are two of a kind, I fear.”
“Darling, I must tempt your appetite. You are far too thin! And your hair. Do you think you would like to cut it? Short hair is all the mode, you know.”
“Mama, I am not going to eat as to put on a stone in three days. As for my hair--” Caro considered her heavy, honey-colored mane. “I do not know why I resist cutting it, but I do.”
That was an outright lie. She resisted cutting it because the Duke of Beverley had once told her in a whisper while they were dancing that, while he knew it most improper, he could not keep from picturing her golden hair tumbling about her shoulders and down her back. The look in those eyes had been warm and assessing, as though he were having no trouble imagining the scene. It had been the most intimate moment they had shared.
Really, she was very silly.
CHAPTER TWO
IN WHICH OUR HERO ALLOWS HIMSELF
TO BE CONVINCED
“Ned, your face is so long, it will drop in your soup,” Peter Northcott, Duke of Ruisdell, said, taking his turn at piquet while lounging in the oval subscription room at White’s.
“There is no soup in sight.” Ned stared grimly at his cards. “If only I could understand why she did it!” He threw down his unlucky hand. “I’ve no head for this game, Peter.” Staring fixedly at the fire burning in the fireplace across the room, he said, “What woman wouldn’t want to be a duchess?”
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