The Devil You Know

by Sophia Holloway

  I remain,

  Your ladyship’s most devoted servant,

  Geoffrey Knowle’

  Kitty read the letter twice. It was strange to find a man who might legitimately be her confidante, and she was both touched and unsettled by it. After all, he was not even some family friend of many years, some avuncular figure to whom she was used to turn, and just at this minute the entire male sex stood condemned. All those with whom she had had close contact had disappointed. Her father had dismissed her as an irrelevance, her brother had ‘sold’ her to get rid of her, and her husband, oh how that word jarred today, her husband had betrayed her utterly. She folded the letter, and when she went to her room, placed it in a drawer. She would perhaps read it again before deciding whether to ignore it or not.

  *

  The effect of intoxication numbing enough to rid Lord Ledbury, temporarily, of his sense of ill usage and gloom, meant that he remained at his club for dinner and did not return until the small hours, thereby avoiding his wife, who dined in solitary state and went to her bed shortly afterwards, where she lay awake so long that she heard the muttered oath as his lordship knocked into a side table as he made his way, somewhat erratically, to his bedchamber.

  He rang for Whicham, who could tell that this was not the result of an overindulgence on a merry evening. Lord Ledbury was inclined to be short-tempered when foxed, but occasionally became maudlin, and this was the case tonight. It usually followed an extremely bad run of luck with his horses. He assisted his employer to his bed, and wished him a good night in the full knowledge that he would not have one. He was quite surprised, however, to find the next morning that the earl was in a brisk if unsmiling mood, not nearly as hung-over as he had expected, and giving him instructions to pack for Newmarket.

  ‘I want to see Fly By Night run tomorrow,’ was the only reason given for this sudden departure.

  George Ledbury was doing the easiest, and worst thing. He was avoiding the situation, and thereby dwelt more and more upon his own position as a man falsely represented as the villain of the piece. His feeling of victimisation grew and in consequence he thought less of what Kitty might feel. Indeed, he told himself he was no longer interested. Women, the entire sex, were trouble.

  If he had remained, had he seen his wife and how utterly miserable she was, then perhaps he might have made the attempt at reconciliation, just as if she had seen the change in him. However, both parties were left to feel sorry for themselves, and harden their attitude towards the other. Newmarket was followed by a week at his Suffolk property, from which he might visit his race horses, though Fly By Night’s four length victory, and the good reports on a colt that was being prepared for the Derby meeting did little to make him feel better.

  *

  In his absence, Lord Inglesham took it upon himself to keep an eye on his friend’s wife. He did not initially give any verbal indication that he knew anything of what had happened, though Kitty thought he must know from Ledbury’s own mouth, but came to offer to accompany her should she desire it, riding in the park, or even, and he gave a fake grimace, upon shopping expeditions, in her lord’s absence.

  ‘For I think it well enough known that I stand as friend to you both.’ This was said with a look which indicated its deeper meaning, ‘and so it will not occasion remark’.

  She thanked him with a small smile.

  ‘Will it not rather highlight his absence? Not that the reason will be unknown, alas. It must be a popular topic of conversation by now.’ She paused. ‘With you, my lord, a friend as you say, I need not dissimulate. I am sure he told you what happened.’

  ‘He did. My dear Lady Ledbury, I would not tell you a lie, even on the behalf of my best friend. I have to tell you that he is as unhappy as you must be over it all.’

  ‘Then he ought not to have created the “problem”.’

  ‘I do not believe that he did. I must be frank with you. He feels he is the victim in this as much as you. He assured me, and he had no reason to lie, that he had not been conducting an affair with Lady Yarningale. Indeed, I know as fact he has found her persistently annoying, since he married.’

  ‘But I saw, with my own eyes, my lord, and what I saw was not a man “being annoyed”. I have been married barely three months, but I have learned to tell the difference between annoyance and… desire.’ She spoke with bitterness as well as sadness.

  Lord Inglesham looked embarrassed.

  ‘This is a very delicate subject, but… you do also see that desire and love are not the same?’

  ‘Oh yes. I do not believe he loves Lady Yarningale, but then nor do I now believe that he loves me, and that was what I had begun to think.’ Her voice trailed off and she sighed. ‘He could not fall in love with me at the same time as “desiring” her. I refuse to accept that. No, my lord, what he played with me was a game, and nothing more. How could I possibly trust such a man again, in anything?’ She bit her lip.

  Lord Inglesham realised his friend was in a worse case than he thought. Protesting that he had every reason to think George Ledbury loved his wife was not going to cut much ice when the fellow had run away to lick his wounds among his horses. He went only so far as to say that appearances might be deceptive, and that he hoped, with time, her ladyship might come to trust her husband once more.

  ‘I speak as one who knows him. He can be brutally frank, deplorably cutting, easily bored, and totally infuriating, but behind all that is a man whom I do not believe would lie to you, nor willingly hurt you.’

  ‘I agree with the first parts, and only wish I could do so with the last part.’ Kitty’s shoulders sagged a little.

  ‘You ought not sit at home and be blue-devilled, Kitty.’ He had never used her name before, but their openness made formality suddenly seem rather silly.

  She looked at him.

  ‘I can be blue-devilled in public?’ Her smile was lopsided.

  ‘Er, no. I was thinking you could visit your friend Lady Rowington.’

  ‘And you might accompany me there?’ She did not reveal that Charlotte Rowington had already heard her confidences.

  ‘To the door, if you care to walk, of course. You might arrange for your carriage to collect you at a suitable hour thereafter, or let me know the time and I will be available to escort you home.’

  ‘Thus doing the job of a footman! Oh dear, that does sound a misuse of a friend.’

  ‘Not at all. I would be glad to be of some small service.’

  He really did intend to act only as escort, but as they approached the house they encountered Lady Rowington and her sister coming towards them from the opposite direction. They met in front of the steps, and whilst Lord Inglesham made his bow and excused himself, Lady Rowington, responding to a covert tug on her sleeve from Lucy, invited him to partake of tea with them. He demurred, but gave in when Miss Sudbury added her entreaties. He was, he told himself, a moth at her flame.

  His presence, whilst pleasing Miss Sudbury, meant that any very private conversation between the friends was impossible, although, when he was in deep discussion with her sister over the merits of the latest opera at Covent Garden, Lady Rowington dropped her voice and asked about was uppermost in both ladies’ minds.

  ‘Is it true? Ledbury has been at the races?’

  ‘Oh yes. I have not seen him since… and I have no reason to think he will return swiftly.’

  ‘Oh Kitty, I am sorry.’

  ‘Perhaps it is for the best. If we are apart there can be no deepening of the gulf between us, if that were possible.’

  ‘But nor can that gulf be bridged, my dear.’ She touched her friend’s arm. ‘Can you face going out? You ought, for form’s sake. It will dispel rumour.’

  ‘Face it, yes. Enjoy it, no, and it cannot prevent everyone knowing.’

  ‘I assure you not a whisper have I heard these last few days, Kitty. Everyone knows Ledbury is devoted to his stable so his absence merely occasioned the comment that marriage would not change him in that, not
hing more. Come to the Measham’s tonight with me. Rowington was going to accompany us, but has had an invitation to dine with some aged uncle whom he cannot put off. I will get our carriage to pick you up at nine. Do say yes.’

  Kitty agreed, but as she dressed for the evening, felt that she would be an exhibit.

  It was therefore a great surprise to find that what Lady Rowington had said was true. Not a breath of what had transpired at the Easebourne ball seemed to have spread. She was watchful, trying to see if anyone whispered, but there was absolutely no sign. Just before supper, Sir Geoffrey Knowle came up to her and made his bow, offering his escort.

  ‘I am glad to see you about, ma’am. It is the best thing to do. Now, may I have the pleasure of taking you to supper?’

  She assented, conscious of having another small prop to help her get through a currently bleak future. He attempted to entertain her with weak drolleries and rather funnier unintentional comments, and though her mood did not change, for half an hour the wound was less raw. Lady Rowington asked her how the evening had gone, as they were driven home. Kitty admitted it had been a trial but that in some ways better than expected.

  ‘Yes, but I wish you were not cornered so frequently by Geoffrey Knowle.’

  ‘He did not corner me, merely offered his arm to supper.’

  ‘I still find him peculiar,’ remarked Lady Rowington, and Lucy, half asleep in the corner of the carriage murmured that he talked to his watch. Kitty smiled, and although it was a small smile, it was something.

  20

  Lord Ledbury returned after nine days, and with no apparent improvement in his mood. When he encountered his wife, he looked reproachful, which set her back up, and was disinclined to remain in a room longer than he had to do so with her. How could he, she thought, when his was the fault? Then Lord Inglesham’s words returned to her, and if her husband had but repeated them himself she might, just might, have given them credence. As it was, she was in such low spirits she could not face asking him herself. What good would it do, if he threw back at her that whatever had occurred was her own fault? The house was therefore inhabited by two lonely, miserable people who avoided one another and tended to meet by accident.

  *

  The day after his return, Syde was able to report to his mistress that her bedchamber was now fully refurbished and ready for inspection. She thanked him without enthusiasm, and went to see for herself. The room was bright, almost cheery, with fresh paintwork and the wallpaper and furnishings they had selected together, which seemed a lifetime ago. Even that moderate degree of companionship now seemed an impossibility. Kitty sat upon the bed, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed. She might have been nervous when the renovations had begun, but as the works had progressed, she had come to view this day as a culmination when everything she had dreamed of would come together, and now it lay in tatters. What was worse, she did not know what she would say if Ledbury, with at least some justification, now demanded that she stand by her part of the bargain. He had held to his part, at least in that he had not pressed her unduly, even if he had been taking his pleasures elsewhere. And then she thought. He had seemed to be longing so obviously, anticipating. Would a man be able to pretend that well if all his desires were satisfied elsewhere? It was not a question she could ask out loud. She dried her eyes and attempted to place all the ‘what ifs’ in a sequence. What if he really had been ‘ambushed’ by Lady Yarningale? He had said his reaction was instinct. So what if it had been true? From his perspective her reaction would have seemed lacking in faith, and he was still going about in a sulk. She decided that she would try, very hard, not to look at him and judge, not today, and not tonight, and the key would not lock the door.

  In the end, however, there was nothing to judge, and the door was not opened. He too was told of the departure of the workmen, and resolved to keep as far away as he could. It would be rubbing salt into the wound thinking how tonight could have been, should have been, so he went early to his club and returned about four in the morning, too sober for his own liking.

  Whicham was worried. His lordship had lost weight, was thinner of cheek and flank, and his scowl had taken on a permanent nature. That he was short-tempered, even with his valet, was, considered Whicham, nothing personal, and he tried valiantly to remain sanguine. There had been a brief hope that upon their return from East Anglia, the relations between lord and lady would have thawed, but that had not come to pass, and Whicham could not see how things might resolve happily.

  *

  In this he was joined by Lord Inglesham, who was feeling low on his own behalf also, and disinclined to see things in a positive light. Miss Sudbury had not become betrothed, which would have been the final straw, but she was looking a little careworn, and Lord Inglesham blamed himself, contrarily, for pushing too many young men in her path for whom she could not find a spark of liking. He was failing her. Added to this, his friends, who had appeared on the verge of bliss, were now inhabiting the same house and different worlds. He felt powerless to help them, though he knew they needed help. Why neither could see that their misery was mirrored eluded him, but then he was the man who could not see that there was a young lady pining for him.

  *

  There were but a few days before the Ledburys held their large party, and Kitty was preoccupied with the arrangements, even as she dreaded standing at the top of the stairs and smiling so falsely. A myriad of things would need to be checked, from the deliveries of flowers, wines and champagne, to the availability of ingredients for the dinner, so carefully chosen. It was Kitty’s first big event as the lady of the house. She wondered if it might be her last. Why should she come to London next year at all? Her head swam with the mixture of worry and misery, and a dull ache of loss. Most peculiar of all was a sorrow that he was unhappy, one which had quietly burgeoned since his return. He ought, as the ‘villain’ of the piece, to be callously distant, but was like an injured dog that snaps to keep from having its wounds touched. There was a small part of her that whispered, ‘If you forgive him…’ to which the remnants of pride and common sense responded that if she did so now, she would spend a lifetime doing it, becoming one of those sad-eyed women married to serial philanderers. And yet, if it bought even a step back to what had been… Having spent hours with ‘what if’ uppermost in her mind, she was now subject to ‘if only’ and it made things even worse.

  The Jerseys’ ball, which Kitty had carefully avoided when choosing the date for their own party, was one which the Earl and Countess of Ledbury simply had to attend, although they sat in the carriage with a significant, if small, gap between them. He took her hand as she came down the lowered step, and it was the first time they had touched since the night of the Easebourne ball. They glanced at each other, both conscious of the frisson, and for a fraction of a second the desperation was mirrored in both pair of eyes. Then Kitty thanked him politely, and they passed up the steps, to enter into the brightly lit vestibule.

  There were acknowledgements to be made, nods and greetings, words exchanged with their host and hostess, and then they parted, as was to be expected. Kitty was going through the motions, her mind preoccupied. She danced, though she could not say with whom, and never saw that she was watched, and by two gentlemen.

  Lord Ledbury was jealous of every movement of the dances that brought the partners close together, holding hands. She should be in his arms, and his alone. Lady Feltham had said that once the tie was cut, it was cut forever, but he had not made that cut; he was still, if she would but let him be so, bound lover-tight to his Kitty.

  Sir Geoffrey Knowle also watched her, with a smile that was secret rather than possessive, and opened his pocket watch, within which a miniature of a fair young woman with wide eyes and a slightly twisted smile was set opposite the watch face. His smile broadened.

  ‘Soon, Mama. It will be soon,’ he murmured.

  *

  It was a little after eleven when Kitty encountered Sir Geoffrey. He bowed over her
hand, lingered a fraction too long, pressed his lips a fraction too much to her gloved fingers.

  ‘You look charming, Lady Ledbury. May I suggest the ices. It is a very warm evening, is it not, and since I know how pale you have become, I can tell that even a slight pinkness to your cheeks means that you are heated. Only a few moments ago I saw Lady Feltham fanning herself and looking distinctly warm, which does not suit one of her hair colouring. I am sure it was the heat, and not what Lord Ledbury was saying to her.’

  ‘What?’ Kitty had been paying but half attention to him.

  ‘Lord Ledbury was in conversation with Lady Feltham.’ He sounded as if it were just another ballroom exchange, but Kitty felt that she could barely breathe. ‘Have I said the wrong thing? Oh dear, she is not another of his… You deserve so much better, so much better. I am sorry, dear lady. Are you quite well? You look a little faint.’ All solicitude, he offered his arm and she held out her hand. He placed it tenderly upon his arm and his free hand secured it. She looked up into his face blindly, seeking something, anything, upon which to focus. It was his moment of success. The glance he gave back spoke of a bond. Lord Ledbury, who had, as he knew, been watching them from the moment he made his bow, seemed to pounce out of nowhere, a muscle working in his cheek, his eyes blazing.

  ‘If any man is to escort my wife, sir, it is me,’ he managed, through gritted teeth.

  ‘Her ladyship is a little flustered, my lord, and…’

  ‘Then I will take her home.’ He almost snatched her hand from Knowle’s arm and clamped it to his own.

  Sir Geoffrey gazed into the angry eyes of the Earl of Ledbury, and that smile enraged further, just as he intended. It was a smile with implications.

  ‘Come, Kitty.’ It was a command, and Kitty found herself nearly dragged from the room. It was Lord Ledbury who made their excuses, in a voice that was casual enough, but his expression was fixed, and the muscle in his arm beneath Kitty’s fingers was bowstring tight. He handed her silently into the carriage, and glowered at her all the way back to Ledbury House. She could do nothing but await the explosion.