by Dorothy Mack
CHAPTER SEVEN
The viscount paid a morning call on his betrothed, determined to use all his powers of persuasion to press for an early wedding. Certainly, his financial embarrassment dictated this course, for on his marriage his allowance would be greatly increased to support the responsibility of maintaining an establishment in the style befitting the heir to an affluent earldom. Despite his faults as a parent, Lord Sedgeley could never be accused of being niggardly. He had always made his sons a generous allowance, and they would be the first to admit that he could scarcely be held accountable if the excesses of youth rendered them unable from time to time to live within their means.
Greatly though Nicholas would have preferred to arrive at a better understanding with his fiancée before taking their vows, last night’s experience had amply confirmed that her initial revulsion from him would not easily be overcome. Each of his private conversational overtures had been met with a pleasant civility that was enough to chill the blood of anyone able to discern the wall of reserve behind the social manner. Thankfully, she seemed to relax her guard a bit in company, permitting a natural friendliness and interest in others to lend more spontaneity to her conversation. At these times, he was included in the radius of her inherent warmth. He should be grateful that she contrived to conceal her true feelings in public, thus lessening the amount of gossip, but honesty compelled him to admit that gratitude was not among the feelings struggling for supremacy in his breast as he banged the knocker on the Harmon front door with more force than was strictly necessary.
An hour later he descended the same steps, a tiny line between his dark brows and their upward curve more satanic than usual as he set his curly-brimmed beaver at a precise angle. He began to stroll slowly toward White’s, but his attention was upon his thoughts rather than on anything along his path. His reactions on being compelled to contract an arranged marriage had been straightforward and predictable, with anger uppermost, accompanied by a corresponding reluctance to proceed. Once acted upon, however, he would have anticipated feeling nothing save a flat boredom as he went through the motions of performing his expected part in the customary betrothal routine, with perhaps an impatience to be done with the charade. Once married, he would be able to take up his interrupted life again, though unfortunately never quite so free to order the activities of his days and nights with no reference to anything save his own interest. As matters had arranged themselves, however, boredom was the farthest thought from his mind.
If he had to describe his state of mind during the early days of his engagement, he would have to admit to feeling baffled rather than anything of a more positive or negative nature. His mood had swung from pleased surprise on discovering the identity of his intended bride to consternation almost in the next moment, when he imagined his brother might have an interest in that direction. Once this situation had been clarified (from Robin’s angle at least), he had proceeded to the actual proposal with an impersonal satisfaction that the girl’s looks and behaviour pleased him. And that had been the last moment when anything had gone according to his expectations. The first interview with Kate had been productive of shock and chagrin; his brain had been busy conjecturing during the interval before their second meeting, and he had come out of that one engaged but strangely dissatisfied. Since then, their two additional meetings had only served to increase his impatience to get to the bottom of his fiancée’s inexplicable aversion to him, and, he must acknowledge, to increase his now burning desire to reverse her disapprobation. Kate would have been perfectly appalled to learn just how quickly she had succeeded in arousing the hunter in the viscount’s nature.
Nicholas paused in his ruminating to raise his hat politely to an old friend of his mother’s, and was constrained to accept the lady’s gushing felicitations with a well-concealed impatience to be gone. In reply to her query, he admitted that they had just set the date for the wedding — four weeks hence. Once armed with news to impart to all and sundry, she showed less inclination to dally, and Nicholas was able to extricate himself from a conversation that had interrupted his train of thought.
He walked on slowly, reviewing this latest session with Kate. Again she had received him in company with her mother and sister, and again she had been politely responsive to all his suggestions. Any wedding date he decided upon was acceptable to her and, yes, she would have ample time to gather her bride clothes together. At this point, Lady Langston had ventured an objection but had been silenced by her daughter’s calm reiteration of her willingness to accomplish what was necessary in four weeks’ time. Kate would be most happy to meet her prospective father-in-law at the earliest date Torvil and the earl might find convenient, and, no, she had no objection (and no interest either, he had fumed) to taking up residence initially in his maternal grandfather’s empty house on Albemarle Street. It was exceedingly kind of Lord Bartram to offer his house to his grandson and his bride, and she would look forward to making his lordship’s acquaintance at the wedding.
At the time, he had been too pleased to have his suggestions ratified so easily to cavil at her attitude, but the more he thought about it the more annoyed he became. She had behaved with all the insipid propriety of a Bath miss, and that she was not! He had been privileged to see her in a naturally mischievous mood at Almack’s, in great agitation on the occasion of their first meeting, and proudly dignified at their second. For some reason, she was now determined to present herself as completely cool and passionless, indeed almost without personality, but he was not deceived by her playacting, annoyingly competent though it might be. Her pretence had slipped a bit when he had tentatively suggested that she might prefer to postpone a wedding trip until the summer, since the season would still be in full swing in late May. Though her voice was indifferent, her eyes had flashed defiant amber fire as she had questioned the necessity of a wedding trip at any time. This had had the unexpected effect of firing him with a determination to compel her to accede to going away the instant the vows were spoken, but common sense and sanity had prevailed, and he had made no answer except with his own eloquent eyes.
There had been one other disturbing element at the meeting — her brother. He had not failed to notice the ill-concealed grimness beneath Lord Langston’s civil manner on their introduction at the Opera last night, but he had dismissed that as the natural reaction of a young man who was nominally the head of his family upon learning that his mother had arranged his sister’s marriage settlement without consulting him or even advising him of the fact. Lord Sedgeley had told his son that all his dealings had been with Lady Langston, who was her daughter’s guardian, though only considerations of Lord Langston’s extreme youth prevented him from approaching the latter in preference to dealing with a woman. When Nicholas had noticed Kate searching the audience in the pit, she had mentioned that she had thought she had caught a glimpse of her brother, and had added that he had been away for nearly a sennight. Today, however, when presumably he had had an opportunity to discuss the matter with his mother and sister, there had been no increase in cordiality in Langston’s manner when he had joined them for a few moments. The hard expression in the young man’s eyes when studying himself had sat oddly upon his youthful countenance, aging it perceptibly. Obviously Roger disliked the match, though his excesses were in no slight degree responsible for the necessity for the contract. In Kate’s presence, he could do nothing to reassure the young chub that he would treat his sister with every consideration, but he must make an effort to see him privately in the immediate future.
As Nicholas climbed the steps to his club, he had reached the inescapable conclusion that, although far from dull, the period of his betrothal promised to be both uncomfortable and frustrating at times.
Four weeks later, he could admit the rueful necessity of congratulating himself on the unfortunate accuracy of this prediction.
Events in the interval between his betrothal and marriage had more than justified his presentiment of discomfort and frustration, and he could but be th
ankful that a longer engagement had not been decided upon. He had performed the task expected of him in providing an almost constant escort to the polite stranger who was his fiancée. The time had passed pleasantly enough in the main, though there had been a fair number of unavoidable engagements that had proved just as tedious as anticipated. Even if he and Kate had been rapturously in love, the necessity of being constantly on parade, as it were, could not have been less than irksome. As matters stood, however, he found himself becoming increasingly irritated at the chains that were being tightened about him, perhaps especially so when he considered that his fiancée moved imperturbably through the ordeal with a cool grace that annoyed him increasingly. Though he admired her social finesse, he would have preferred to have guided an awkward but trusting girl through the social intricacies. At least then he would have felt that he had something to contribute to the scene apart from his physical presence. Kate neither sought nor required support from him as she moved confidently through the prodigious number of social engagements and entertainments arranged in honour of the affianced pair.
Regrettably, their relationship was as impersonal at the end of the betrothal as on the day she accepted his suit. Nor, except for small gleanings from his own observation, did he know the real Kate one whit better after a dozen evenings spent in each other’s company than on their second meeting. He knew well that this was exactly the way Kate desired matters, but hours devoted to the problem had not brought him any insight into why she preferred to keep a thick wall between them. At first, he had striven earnestly to forge a better understanding, but her persistent refusal to recognize and respond to his overtures had quickly cured him of his good intentions. Though ashamed of his reactions in his better moments, he had commenced sniping at her in private, telling himself that any reaction at all was preferable to her impersonal affability. Perhaps it was fortunate that they spent almost no time in each other’s exclusive company, because his most provocative thrusts had met with an identical response on his fiancée’s part. She blandly ignored any personal remarks and was always quite content to remain silent until he wished to discuss an impersonal topic or until he asked her something that demanded a reply. She accepted compliments unblushingly, but with an air of disinterest, and when he pointedly denied her compliments that might be expected of a suitor, she accepted this situation with equal composure, never directing at her fiancé, when complimented by a third party, a single one of those looks most females seemed unable to resist, that said plainly “others appreciate what you do not.”
A case in point had been the initial meeting between the earl and his prospective daughter-in-law. Nicholas had escorted Kate to his family home for dinner one evening shortly after the official announcement of the engagement. As they ascended the outside stairs, he had sought to soothe away any apprehensions or qualms she might have been suffering at the prospect of being looked over by a notoriously difficult and intimidating personage. She had turned those enormous golden brown eyes to his face in a more searching look than any she had directed at him up to then, but on her lips was a little smile that had struck him as being so condescending that it had the instant effect of causing him to abandon her to her own devices with his father. Accordingly, he had escorted her to the main saloon under the benevolent eye of Marsden, then had left her in solitude while he sought out his father in his study, surprising the butler by a dismissal, but not noticeably discomposing his betrothed, who was sitting on a green velvet chair taking stock of the elegant furnishings of the room. When he returned with the earl, it was to find a smiling Kate being very well entertained by his brother. She rose at the sight of his father and came forward a few steps. He knew by her quick glance from father to son that she had marked the resemblance and wondered with a wicked delight if she would freeze his sire because of the unfortunate similarity.
It seemed not.
“My dear child,” said the earl at his unsuspected, courtly best, “this is indeed a pleasure. I have been eagerly looking forward to this meeting.”
Kate smiled with eyes and mouth. “Your lordship is most kind. I, too, have looked forward to our meeting. I understand from my mother that you were a friend of my grandfather’s.”
The earl was still holding Kate’s hand, which he now patted with a paternal gesture that astounded his sons. “Yes, my dear, and I see that you have a very great look of him, especially about the eyes. That particular shade of brown is quite rare. Though I had not seen your grandfather for fifteen years prior to his death, I am going to claim the privilege of this old and lasting friendship to call you Kate, which I believe was his name for you.”
“I shall be delighted to have you do so, sir,” Kate replied simply.
Before his speechless sons knew what was happening, the earl had whisked Kate off to the library to show her a chased gold inkwell that had been a gift from her grandfather thirty years before.
“Well, a conquest, by gad!” declared Robin theatrically. “Who would have thought that our little Kate was just in the pater’s style?”
“I should have done, I suppose. After all she was his choice, albeit sight unseen.” Nick’s thoughtful tones became brisk as he added, “And may I correct you on one small point, brother? She is not our Kate, but mine, for better or worse.”
Robin refused to take offense. “Well, you’ll just have to lend her services when I need someone to intervene with the old man for me.” At his brother’s sardonic expression, he explained carelessly, “At the very least, a loving sister-in-law should be good for that, and perhaps a few meals before quarter day.”
It was fully ten minutes before the earl and Kate returned, obviously on the best of terms with each other, and as Marsden had appeared to announce dinner, the earl retained possession of Kate’s arm to escort her into the dining room.
The talk at dinner touched lightly on many subjects and occasionally delved deeper into some literary or political criticisms. The earl dominated the conversation, addressing most of his remarks to Kate, despite a determined participation by Nicholas. Initially, Kate’s sense of social duty prompted her to try to include the younger men in the discussion, but Lord Sedgeley ruthlessly overrode his heir’s opinions and slew unborn any original thoughts his younger son might have expressed by forthrightly condemning him as a silly lobcock, unfit for better society than a lady’s drawing room. From long habit Robin took this in good part, better in fact than did Miss Harmon, who appeared ready to bristle slightly, though whether on behalf of the Honourable Robin or in defence of the level of conversational skill attained in ladies’ drawing rooms, they were not to learn, for the earl immediately drew her attention back to his discourse. Soon she abandoned her efforts to promote a general discussion from the necessity to devote all her mental energies to following her host’s brilliant but sometimes convoluted reasonings. To Nicholas, watching her as closely as possible while carrying on a desultory conversation with his brother, his fiancée appeared to have succumbed completely to the spell of eloquent intensity his father could create when he chose to exert himself. Unless she was a consummate actress, she was totally absorbed in her host. He and Robin might not have existed for all the attention they received. Though she did not venture more than one or two mild challenges to his lordship’s theories, her rapid comprehension must have pleased him, for he continued to expand on his themes throughout the delicious meal served by Marsden and one of the footmen. Nicholas, who knew all the old retainer’s little ways, was cynically aware of the benevolent approval welling up behind Marsden’s impeccably wooden facade as he unobtrusively carried out his duties. Kate had added another conquest, it seemed. She certainly did not appear to require any assistance from him in smoothing her path into his family. He was conscious of a faint resentment, if this was not too strong a word, that this should be so, and this feeling might have prompted his next unbecoming actions.
The earl turned from his guest to his heir, saying with a heavy attempt at gallantry, “You are to be f
elicitated, my boy, upon winning a bride who will do you the greatest credit.”
Considering the circumstances, this was coming in much too strong! Ignoring the blatant cue, Nicholas said smoothly. “You are too generous, sir. All the credit must go to you.”
His father glared at him but closed his lips after a quick glance at Kate revealed that this lack of chivalry had apparently passed unnoticed. She was calmly searching in her reticule for her handkerchief, her face serene and composed.
And so it was throughout the period of their betrothal — pleasant enough on the surface, but with each meeting producing a minute accretion in the structure of frustration Nicholas had foreseen. Perhaps the thing that chafed most was his seeming inability to overlook the unsatisfactory aspect of their relationship. He could — and repeatedly did — tell himself that a marriage such as his and Kate’s was destined to be did not require that they be en rapport. The fact that between his first glimpse of Kate and that abortive first meeting there must have sprouted some semi-realised but tenacious idea of what their union might mean was a clear indication that after all, he had not outgrown a romantic and unrealistic conception of marriage. In this respect, Kate, young as she was, had proved the more realistic of the two. She might have taken him in dislike, but after that involuntary revulsion, she had calmly suppressed her personal feelings and set about readying herself for her new position with a total lack of wasteful emotion.
His own efforts to do the same might have been more satisfactory had he continued to enjoy the familiar pleasures of his association with Lady Montaigne on a regular basis during his betrothal. It soon became apparent, however, that Cécile had been correct when she had protested that she would see much less of him. His imagination was inadequate to the high flight required to picture Kate demanding his attention, but certainly the fact of being an affianced bridegroom made great demands on his time. The first occasion after the announcement of his engagement when he had been able to visit Cécile had been the night he had first introduced his fiancée to his father. He had returned Kate to her home at a fairly early hour after an evening spent watching the earl monopolize her attention, in a mood to enjoy a bit of feminine attention himself. It had not improved his temper to find Cécile out when he arrived at the slim house on Green Street where she lived with a faded female dependent who supposedly lent her countenance, but was most conveniently invisible upon request. There was no question of his being admitted, of course, and he spent the next two hours awaiting Cécile’s return, glancing through some periodicals in her boudoir between bouts of impatient prowling about the ultrafeminine room with its superfluity of mirrors. There was certainly no excuse for Cécile’s not being familiar with every angle and view of her lovely self, clothed or naked. By the time his inamorata arrived home, he was heartily sick of the sight of his own dark visage reflected in a dozen surfaces.
