‘I cannot see you playing that role.’ She shook her head.
‘I can act.’
‘How well?’
He altered his position in his chair. He had been relaxed, insolently casual, half reclining and with one arm along its back. Now he sat near the edge, knees together, fists slightly clenched and placed upon his knees, and schooled his features into wide eyed worry, not quite daring to look directly at her. The transformation was too much for her. She covered her face and rocked to and fro with merriment.
‘For shame, madam, mocking the timorous.’ Even his voice had changed. It was prissy, exact.
‘Oh my! No, no, please, I shall have a spasm. That is so funny!’
As if to prove this she suddenly hiccoughed, and that broke him. He too laughed, but rang the bell.
‘Take deep breaths.’
Syde entered and his eyebrows rose in surprise.
‘A glass of water for her ladyship, Syde, as soon as possible. As you can see, she is afflicted. Thank you.’
‘Immediately, my lord.’ The butler withdrew hastily, and the earl rose and came to sit beside his wife, taking her hands.
‘Deep… breaths.’
She tried, but her eyes were streaming and the hiccoughs persisted till she felt quite dizzy. Syde returned with a glass of water, which his lordship took, with thanks but without looking at him.
‘Here, take a sip of this.’ He held the glass to her lips and she took a small sip, followed by a splutter. The door shut behind the butler. ‘There is another way to make you hold your breath.’ He set the glass down, turned her to face him, and kissed her without urgency, lingeringly, until his own need to breathe indicated that she would also. He pulled back, and waited. She said nothing, and then a small hiccough broke the silence. ‘We must persist with the treatment, I see.’
He kissed her again, and involuntarily her hand moved to touch his cheek, her fingertips at the nape of his neck. His hold tightened. The dizziness now owed nothing to hiccoughs. When they parted a second time, she spoke, her voice shaking a little.
‘And what act was that, my lord?’
‘What would you like it to be? The husband or the lover?’ He looked at her intently.
‘Could it not be both?’
‘Such a thought had not previously occurred to me, but yes, Kitty, I think it could.’
‘And how does one… dally with a “husband and lover” simultaneously?’
‘I think that depends upon whether or not they are the same man. If they are not then I can see it would be extremely difficult. But if one and the same… by being you, my sweet.’ He took her hand and kissed the fingers one by one.
For some peculiar reason, it broke the spell. She had been sinking into a warm fuzziness, but the action seemed to her too much habitual. She stiffened.
‘What is it? Do you not like it?’
She shook her head. ‘I am sorry. I… I could just see you doing the same with… your previous conquests. It felt contrived, part of the “routine”.’
He frowned.
‘It was not intended to be.’ The frown deepened. ‘When I am with you, I will not be comparing you to another, I swear it.’
‘Well, at least your cure for hiccoughs works.’ Her smile was lopsided.
‘It does, and I have never tried it before. What would you like to do now?’
‘Talk.’
‘Talk? About what?’
‘Us. I mean who we are. There is so much we do not know about each other.’
‘Would it not be better if some things remained unknown?’ He frowned slightly.
‘Perhaps, but there are many more it would be good to share. I mean, what do you know of me, my lord?’
He looked at her, meditatively.
‘You are competent, a little shy, dislike Bidford intensely, and with good reason, ride well and love your horses, are clever but no blue stocking, and no man ever kissed you, properly, until I did.’
‘And is that not insufficient? You must have known at least as much about your inamoratas, and they were transient. Think of all you have known of Lady Yarningale, Lady Minsterley,’ she caught her breath, ‘Lady Feltham.’
‘Do you know the names of all my previous fancies? It is not endearing, I assure you.’ He looked annoyed.
‘No, Almost certainly I do not, but those like Lady Yarningale will be sure to let me know of their “prior connection”.’
‘Lady Yarningale need not concern you.’
‘She does not. But you do, my lord.’ She sighed. ‘I want to be a good wife.’
‘For which you require a “good” husband? I have no idea if I can promise you that.’ He laid his hand upon her knee. ‘I fear our evening of “entertainment” has become dismally sober. Should we resort to spillikins after all? If so I warn you I do not think there are any in the house.’
‘It does seem too desperate, but it is barely gone nine, my lord. You could still go out and enjoy an evening with your friends. I… have a slight headache, and can retire to my bed.’
‘Do you want to do so?’
‘Yes… No… I am not sure. It must sound weak, being so confused, but I am.’
‘Then take your rest, so that you are fit for our ride in the morning.’ He rose, and pulled her gently to her feet, then in closer, and kissed her, lightly. ‘I move too fast for you, don’t I. Well, you had best know it now. I have every intention that by the time your bedchamber is redecorated, you will be anticipating our “second chance” as fervently as I am. Sleep well, my dear.’
He led her to the door, and up to her room, where he bowed over her hand, and, rather than go out, went to the library with a decanter of brandy, which he barely touched, and did a lot of thinking.
12
Whatever the result of his lordship’s cogitations, there was no obvious difference in his demeanour the following morning, when he rode with his lady for an hour. He did flirt very light-heartedly, and made her laugh, but was at other times perfectly serious. It was a very pleasant hour, even if the wind was a little chill. He then went in search of Lord Inglesham, whom he found in his club, perusing the newspaper. Inglesham lowered the periodical.
‘Only two things give you such a bright eye and healthy “glow”, and since it is far too early in the day to chase women, you must have been riding.’
‘And I am a married man.’
‘So you are, my dear fellow.’
‘And in a way I have been chasing after a woman, whilst taking equine exercise.’
‘The image in my mind must be wrong.’ Inglesham grinned. ‘I really cannot see you galloping towards Kensington following a lady in a chaise, and yelling, “Wait for me!”’
‘No, not my style at all. I have in fact been riding with my wife.’
‘And you are chasing after her?’
‘Not literally, though Something is, I am sure, very fleet.’
‘Something?’
‘That is the name of that mare I bought her. It would take too long to explain.’ The earl beckoned a servant and ordered coffee. ‘Would you say I was a poor seducer, Henry?’
Lord Inglesham’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Too damned good at it, if you must know.’
‘Then why am I having such a hard time of it seducing my wife?’
‘You are? I mean seducing her, that is.’
‘Yes. Is one own’s wife always so… evasive?’ Ledbury sighed.
‘I never seduced another man’s wife, so I cannot make comparisons,’ remarked Inglesham, dryly.
‘I woo her, making it a bit of a game so as not so scare her, and all seems to be going swimmingly, and then,’ he snapped his fingers, ‘she has me on the defensive, challenging my sincerity.’
‘Are you sincere? If you are making it a game?’
‘That is how I intend to get under her guard, not making it seem too serious a thing. She is, I think, afraid.’
‘Of you?’
‘Of love.’
&nb
sp; ‘The action or the emotion, my friend?’
‘Er, perhaps both.’
‘But you are sincere?’
‘Yes, I tell you.’ Ledbury sounded frustrated.
‘Well, it is not an obvious conclusion to draw. If you were one of your horses I would say look at the form book and what would you think? Likes the going soft, good sprinter, not much of a stayer.’
Lord Ledbury’s scowl resolved into a twisted smile.
‘Damn it all, Henry, you are too accurate by half. Trouble is, this time it has to be different. After all, afterwards I have to live with her.’
‘Wherein I think lies the problem.’ Lord Inglesham steepled his fingers and regarded his friend over the top of them.
‘You think I could not do so?’
‘No, but you speak of “afterwards”. Has it not occurred to you that this ought not to be transitory?’
‘I am merely being realistic.’ Ledbury shrugged. He paused. ‘There is something though, underneath.’
‘Not “Something” the horse?’ Inglesham’s lips twitched.
‘No. Seriously, Henry, I would not have believed it when we first met, but there is a certain… yes, “something”, about my wife I rather like.’ He became pensive.
‘Has it occurred to you, George, that after years of falling in love, or at least into bed, with other men’s wives, you are in danger of falling in love with your own?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Ledbury retorted instantly, as if such a thing would be a failing.
‘Why is it so? Do not tell me it is because she is unlike all your previous mistresses, because you have never loved even one of them. In fact it makes it more likely that you have eventually found a woman worth loving. Love is not a weakness you know, like knock knees.’ He paused, and said more gently, ‘What do you want from your marriage, George?’
‘Want from it?’ His brows drew together in a frown of perplexity. ‘I do not really know. What should I want from it? Besides an heir, of course.’
‘I suggest you address the question, and now. You are wooing her for what? To prove you can? Because you think you “ought” to do it, and have her “tamed” by your magnetic masculinity? If those are your aims I will not wish you success, my friend, because you will hurt her in a way that will linger and fester and leave nothing but a coldness between you.’
‘And what do you think I should want?’ grumbled the earl.
‘The best a man can get; a woman who loves him, who is tolerant of his failings, proud of his good attributes, who will defend him in the face of the world, stand by him whatever life throws at him; a woman who understands him enough so that words are not needed; a woman who will solace his sorrows, boost his ego when required, keep it in check when too great, be the greatest friend and the most passionate of lovers even when he is grey and creaking of joints.’
Ledbury gave a crack of laughter, but it was sardonic.
‘You want me to howl for the moon, Henry. It is a very pretty picture you paint but the stuff of dreams. Such women do not exist.’
‘They do, I promise you, and I am not at all sure you have not got one sitting in Ledbury House. She wants to love you.’
‘She is afraid of loving me.’
‘They are not mutually exclusive. Ask yourself why she is afraid.’
‘Because she has never loved before I suppose, and because she is so very conscious of my “reputation”. She even asked me not to call her “my love” unless and until I could mean it.’
‘That does not seem an unnatural request.’
‘It makes seducing her more difficult. How do you woo a woman like that?’
‘Simple, my friend. With your heart engaged.’
‘But I do not possess one.’
‘I think, I hope, that you do, and this is its awakening.’
‘You, Henry, are an incurable romantic. How about a game of billiards?’
*
Kitty, returning from her ride to the labour of writing the invitation cards for the Ledbury House party, spent the rest of the morning in not unpleasant solitude, her thoughts frequently drifting to her husband, and thence tying themselves in knots.
She was torn, and acknowledged as much. Part of her stood back and regarded what was happening and foretold the worst, but it was undeniably exciting, sending a physical and emotional charge through her. It was what he intended, of course; he had admitted it. He had said he wanted her to be looking forward to their ‘second chance’ as ‘fervently’ as he was, and she believed him. There was certainly fervour in his kisses, an intoxicating mix of desperation and power, and she could feel herself responding. That first night she had been too surprised, too shocked, and he had been too much the stranger. There was so much she still did not know about him, but she was now even finding his faults occasionally endearing. With the exception of his kindness to Lord Inglesham in his time of trouble, he had no more notion of thinking of others than a three-year-old, and doing so was both new and hard. He failed, frequently, but there were touches, signs that his selfishness was habit rather than character to the core. Had he not bought her Something, when he had no reason to think of her? The Voice of Cynicism replied that he had liked the horse, was flush with money that came with her as dowry, and if he had to be seen with her, wanted it to be whilst he could enjoy an activity he loved. She countered this with his care for her in her sickness, at which Cynicism shook its head and told her to have gone hunting when his bride of but a few weeks lay, if not at death’s door, certainly in very a poorly state, would have held him up as a heartless brute, callous in the extreme.
She sighed, and crossed the next name off her list. By the time she halted to take a light luncheon there were ink stains upon her index finger and she had had to sharpen the pen. However, she regarded it as a task discharged, and knew she could look her lord in the eye and say that she had done as he had instructed. She changed her gown, made strenuous efforts to remove the indications of secretarial labour and took up the hemming of a shift. With London only beginning to fill and uncertain about leaving her card, willy nilly, Kitty did not venture out upon morning calls. Once she had attended a few parties, made new acquaintances, settled back with old ones, the afternoons would be busier. She was quite surprised when at three precisely, Syde came to announce that Lady Jersey had come to pay a call.
‘Goodness. Do show her up to the Blue Saloon, Syde.’ Kitty smoothed her skirts, and took a quick glance at her reflection in a pier glass before going to the chamber herself. She had not thought the Earl of Jersey would have been so swift to pass on her presence in the metropolis. A visit from one of the Patronesses was not to be treated lightly. For one brief moment Kitty felt as nervous as she had been as a debutante.
Lady Jersey came in smiling, clearly in a good mood. If she noticed the slightly outmoded furnishings, and Kitty could not see how she could not, she ignored them.
‘Lady Ledbury, how nice to find you in Town.’ She came forward more in the manner of one who had been crossing off the days until they could meet, rather than visiting someone whose face she could barely recall. ‘I am hopeful that this next week will see everything far more gay and bustling, though it does mean that shopping is far less of a trial, do you not think?’
‘Yes, that is very true, ma’am.’
‘And you will, I am sure, have already been for fittings. Now you are married there are so many more options. Marriage is frequently bad for the figure, but wonderful for colours. And you will be so envied you know, having “caught” such a prize as Ledbury. He is terribly good friends with Jersey, through the hunting of course, so I am sure we will see you at Middleton Park around Christmas. Ledbury has come for several years and is most entertaining.’
It occurred to Kitty that all she need do was answer appropriately in short sentences and let ‘silence’ go on as she wished. In a foul mood, Lady Jersey could be very cutting, but she was disposed to be friendly, and if she put one on her list of ‘friends’ th
en invitations would flood in. She smiled, avoided adroitly one teasing question about how she was enjoying married life, was suitably grateful when her ladyship promised to send round vouchers for Almack’s by the morrow and at the end of the half hour, felt as if she had survived a gale.
She had not long alone before a more restful visitor arrived, in the form of Lady Rowington, with her sister, Miss Sudbury. Charlotte was a proper friend, and Kitty could relax.
‘Sally Jersey came? Goodness, well if she takes you up I shall have to book long in advance just to take tea with you, my dear. Mrs Drummond-Burrell met us in the park yesterday afternoon and has offered to procure vouchers for Lucy.’ Lady Rowington looked at her sister, who sat, perched upon the edge of a sofa, and did not show the delight her elder sibling felt she ought. ‘Not that there would be any problem of course, but it is nice not to have to make a push for them. We have been to the dressmakers, but poor Lucy is so pale I fear all the muslins are going to make her look like a wraith.’ She sighed. ‘I shall not despair, however. I…’
Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the entry of Lord Ledbury, accompanied by Lord Inglesham. The ladies rose, introductions were made, and Kitty called for more tea. Seats were resumed, and the gentlemen joined the conversation. Lady Rowington was unknown to Lord Ledbury, who marked her down as a well-favoured and good-tempered young matron who would have the occasional visit to London but was not a socialite. The pale dab on the sofa was just the sort of girl he had always avoided. She looked not just nervous but miserable also, and he knew, from the moment he addressed his first remark to her, that conversation would be a trial. What he enjoyed with a woman was wit and a little banter, not prosaic answers delivered like a well-learned catechism.
*
Lord Inglesham watched, as Miss Sudbury wilted under Lord Ledbury’s critical scrutiny. Her responses were delivered in a shy, low monotone, and when he made some remark in jest she actually flinched. In the face of this, his lordship gave up, and Miss Sudbury shrank back upon the sofa and clutched her reticule as if it would give her solace, or possibly protection.
The Devil You Know Page 14
