by Dorothy Mack
“I shan’t be able to face Hawthorne until I have repaired the damage,” scolded Kate, but her attempt to look severe was greatly hampered by the presence of the elusive dimple he found so enchanting.
“A sweet disorder in the dress, kindles in clothes a wantonness,” quoted Nicholas softly into her ear since her gaze had faltered, unable as yet to meet the blaze in his.
“First Shakespeare, now Herrick. You are indeed erudite, my lord.”
“With such an inspiration, I am ashamed to be reduced to quoting the ancients. I should be able to compose an original tribute to such glowing loveliness.” As he looked deep into the amber eyes in her rapt face, all trace of light-hearted foolery vanished; in fact, all efforts at speech ended. He cupped her rounded chin in long fingers and studied the soft curves of her lips before yielding to the temptation they had always represented to him.
Kate was ecstatically happy in those early June days, experiencing a joy in Nicholas’s company and in his love-making that she had never looked for in marriage, pleasure of an order she had never dreamed of in her ignorance. In the early days of their acquaintance, she had steeled herself against the easy charm of manner that she was persuaded concealed a selfish, callous streak. Even when she made the surprising discovery that he could be supremely companionable and had a mind that could reach out to hers, her opinion of his basic nature had not been challenged. From the moment he had put their marriage on a regular basis, however, her fears had started to evaporate in the warmth of his concern for her. She had been totally unprepared for such generous consideration and was wholly disarmed. All the barriers she had erected against him fell before it like a line of toy soldiers swept by a gleeful, rampaging arm. In the beginning, her response to his pervasive charm had been reluctant and tentative, but now she could deny him nothing. The unguarded warmth of her own nature triumphed over her initial caution.
The rewards were certainly fulsome. Kate blossomed and grew lovely in the sunshine of her husband’s attentions. She exuded a radiance that could not be mistaken. Lady Jersey, chatting away nonstop on various topics during a morning call in Albermarle Street, remarked on it.
“Marriage certainly suits you, my dear. You are absolutely blooming these days. Torvil is to be congratulated.”
“Th… thank you. After all the bustle attending our engagement and wedding, I am finding the more moderate pace of life since our marriage a great relief,” said Kate, unsure just how to answer the implications of this flattering observation and annoyed that she could not control the sudden heat in her cheeks.
Lady Jersey noted the blush and laughed indulgently, but whatever embarrassingly candid comment she might have produced next was forestalled by the arrival of another caller, much to Kate’s relief. In her gratitude at the interruption, she greeted her brother-in-law with more than ordinary warmth, concealing her surprise at the unexpected visit. The trio continued to converse lightly on some upcoming social events. Kate could not imagine that Robin would find such frivolous chatter entertaining, and after nearly half an hour spent in this manner, had arrived at the conclusion that he was bent on outstaying Lady Jersey. She contained her curiosity and presently had the satisfaction of seeing the Queen of the ton off the premises after an offer to take Mister Dunston up in her carriage had been courteously refused. The door had scarcely closed behind Lady Jersey when Robin rose from his chair as if on wires and walked restlessly over to the window.
“Lord, how that woman prattles! She can prose on about nothing for hours. Small wonder they call her Silence.” He gave a crack of laughter and fell silent himself.
Kate tilted her head on one side and studied her brother-in-law with a thoughtful air. “Did you have something of a particular nature to say to me, Robin?” she prompted in an attempt to help him begin.
“I’m not sure, perhaps not; in fact, most probably not, but I thought I’d best prepare you in case events don’t fall out the way they ought.” He lapsed into silence again and Kate waited patiently, admiring the set of his olive brown coat across the broad Dunston shoulders. Robin was not quite as tall as Nicholas, but he had a fine, athletic build that set off his clothes to advantage. He also possessed a tendency toward moderate dandyism, unshared by his more casual brother who declined to be made uncomfortable by the stiff shirt points and more elaborate arrangements of neck-clothes favoured by Robin. Today’s version Kate judged to be the Waterfall, most difficult to achieve and in imminent danger of being ruined as Robin tugged nervously at its constricting folds.
“You may not know — in fact, I’m dead certain you don’t know because Nick wouldn’t go blabbing — but he pulled me out of a hole a couple of weeks ago, lent me the blunt to pay off a bet. I promised him I wouldn’t take that kind of chance again.” He paused and looked straight at Kate for the first time. She had never seen her insouciant brother-in-law with such a serious expression. “I meant to keep my word, believe me, but I was at the Fives Court the other night and fell into a discussion with some sporting types that think they’re top of the trees Corinthians, when they’re nothing of the sort.” He tugged again at his neckcloth and finished miserably, “The upshot of it all was that I engaged to race against one of them, who fancies himself a top sawyer with a curricle and pair. That was all right if I’d let it go at that, but they were all egging me on, and I got so hot under the collar that I laid a big bet on the outcome before I remembered my promise to Nick. Couldn’t back out then, of course, point of honour.”
“Of course not,” Kate said soothingly, touched by his shamefaced air. “You were most likely all drinking too much blue ruin, too, and forgot discretion.”
“Fireballs,” Robin corrected with a grin, “but it’s all the same thing in the end.”
“Do you wish me to explain it to Nicholas?”
“Lord, no! I don’t want Nick to know anything about it.”
“Oh.” Kate was puzzled. “I do not think I perfectly understand then why you are telling me, Robin.”
He looked even more guilty. “Wouldn’t be if I was sure of winning the wager, but my friend Wolford was telling me Gantry, the chap I’m racing against, has just bought a tidy pair of bays from Ellsworth’s stable. Gantry’s a cow-handed driver, but these horses have never been beaten.”
Enlightenment began to dawn on Kate. “How much was the wager for, Robin?”
“Three hundred pounds.”
“Do you have the money if you lose?”
“Just over half. That’s why I thought I’d best warn you, in case I had to hit you up for a loan.” Now that the sorry tale was told, he looked much more himself. Kate could not forbear smiling at the absurdity of men and their egos, but she solemnly assured her anxious brother-in-law that she could afford to make him a loan in the unlikely event that it should become necessary.
“And you won’t tell Nick anything about it?”
“I shan’t even mention that you came to see me,” she promised.
Robin went away reconfirmed in the belief that his new sister-in-law was a very good sort of girl, handy to have in the family, and Kate, recalling that Nicholas had once used that very phrase “cow-handed” to describe his brother’s driving, went off to check the state of her finances in the firm conviction that a loan would indeed be required.
The viscount came home for lunch that day, eager to talk over plans for the summer months with Kate but, as usual, he inquired how she had spent her morning. When she reported Lady Jersey’s call, he grinned and remarked that at least the conversation would not have flagged. Beyond inquiring whether or not her guest had had some new titbit of gossip to relate he did not display much interest, being more concerned with his own news. Kate was more than willing to change the subject. She felt a trifle uncomfortable about concealing Robin’s visit from Nicholas, although it seemed a small matter. However, her husband’s news was of sufficient moment to drive all thoughts of his brother’s problem from her mind.
“Do you think you might care to spend
the summer by the sea?” Nicholas asked casually, but with a look of anticipation enlivening his features.
“At Brighton, do you mean?”
This fashionable waterhole had become a summer playground for the Polite World ever since the Prince Regent had shown such a marked preference for the resort town. The fabulous Pavilion he had built there had become a source of lavish hospitality which set the tone for summer revels amongst the privileged class. Nicholas had mentioned hiring a house for several weeks but had not seemed overly enthusiastic at the time.
“No, not Brighton unless you particularly wish it. My father has a small estate near the sea in Sussex. It has been neglected of late, but I thought you might enjoy spending a quiet summer, just the two of us, in the country. We can ride and drive about the area, and I can teach you to fish and sail. Father keeps a small yacht in the harbour at Rye. It can be sailed by two persons, so you may crew for me.”
Kate’s face was alive with pleasure. “Oh, Nicholas, what a lovely idea! I would prefer it above anything. I have never even been on a sailing boat.”
Her husband looked as pleased as a small boy on his birthday. “It’s settled then. I’ll see Father today and tell him you like the plan. If it should become too slow for you, we can always invite some friends down for a visit. The house is not large but it is comfortable enough, and the couple who run it are good people and very accommodating. They enjoy company.”
“Perhaps later, but I think it would be delightful to be by ourselves for a bit, don’t you?”
Since Mudgrave came into the room just at that moment to remove the dishes, Nicholas contented himself with an enthusiastic verbal agreement in lieu of hugging Kate for her sweetly serious air. She was losing some of her shyness with him, and although he must still initiate any affectionate exchanges, he was thrilled with the warmth of her response. He was confident a few weeks in his exclusive company would overcome the strict upbringing that turned young women into unnaturally formal creatures with a boring sameness about the majority of them. He was convinced that Kate’s was a warm, impulsive nature and looked forward with impatience to getting her all to himself in the country.
To forward this end, he presented himself in Brook Street that same afternoon to complete arrangements with his father. As he exited from his paternal home, a familiar carriage came down the street. He doffed his hat politely but was not best pleased to see the coachman pull in the reins. He presented himself to the two ladies within the barouche and greeted them with flattering deference. The Countess of Lieven merely inclined her head graciously, but Lady Jersey had summoned him for a purpose.
“I called on your little bride today, Torvil, and found her in radiant looks. If this is the effect marriage has on her, you are to be congratulated.”
If the viscount found her archness difficult to stomach, he disguised it with suave civility.
“Much as it would suit my male vanity to claim all the credit, ma’am, honesty compels me to demur. My wife, quite simply, is a lovely girl.”
“Very prettily said,” approved Lady Jersey with one of her trilling laughs. “Your brother would no doubt agree with you. I left him in your drawing room determined to enjoy a private chat with Lady Torvil.”
“Robin is not the only one who would agree with me,” Nicholas countered smoothly. “Kate has captivated all the members of my family, including my grandfather.” He bowed smilingly to the ladies and proceeded on his way, a bit surprised that Kate had not mentioned Robin’s morning call when she had told him of Lady Jersey’s visit. He recalled then that he had been so eager to tell her of his plans that he had rather passed over her report of the morning’s activities. Most probably his proposition had driven everything else from her mind. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward his club. Her reaction to his suggestion of spending the summer alone and away from society had been as enthusiastic as any bridegroom could wish.
Like Kate, Nicholas was finding the early weeks of his married life to be a time of unexpected happiness. He congratulated himself on having knocked down the barriers his wife had erected between them during their engagement. Kate with her defences down was an unending delight to him. Strangely enough, he actually begrudged the time he was forced to spend away from her by the demands of his friends. He had good-naturedly endured their ragging when he had left them early on several occasions to return home, and he admitted willingly that the lifestyle of a bachelor was hardly compatible with that of a newly married man. This summer was going to be a wonderful opportunity to consolidate his gains and bind Kate to him even more closely.
A few days after taking the decision to retire to the country at the end of the season, the complacent glow that surrounded Nicholas like a warm breeze was diminished abruptly by an icy draught. Rounding a corner onto Bond Street one fine afternoon, he suddenly came face to face with Lady Montaigne. Cécile had been so far from his thoughts for weeks that he stopped and gaped at her in blank surprise for a second, until he could gather his wits and make a recovery. Fortunately, her enthusiastic greeting covered his hesitation.
“Nick! How lovely to see you so soon, darling. We just returned from Yorkshire yesterday. I was planning to send a note around this evening telling you of our arrival.”
Nicholas ignored the implications of this and offered his hand first to Cécile and then to her mouselike cousin, Mrs. Rafferty.
“You are looking as charming as ever, Cécile. I trust you enjoyed your visit and found your mother well?”
“Oh yes, but I am delighted to be back in London. I missed you, Nick.” There was no misunderstanding the husky, seductive tone.
“Flattering but unlikely, my dear Cécile. You will not easily convince me that every man within a radius of thirty miles was not scheming for an introduction once the news got around that the beautiful Lady Montaigne was in residence.”
Cécile smiled perfunctorily at this blatant piece of flattery but her eyes had narrowed, and the viscount was aware that her regard never left his face while he listened with a fixed smile to Mrs. Rafferty’s diffidently expressed concurrence with his remark. He could only hope fervently that his profound discomfort was less apparent than he feared.
“When shall I see you, Nicholas?” Cécile cut across her cousin’s effusions abruptly. She was still smiling, but now there was also a challenging glint in the light blue eyes.
“I will do myself the honour of calling upon you in the next few days,” the viscount replied readily, and brought the meeting to a close with exquisite courtesy that masked a craven urge to flee.
As he increased the distance between himself and his mistress, Nicholas was reeling mentally from his second shock in as many minutes. It had just struck him that the sight of Cécile had proved so unnerving only because he had not given her a moment’s consideration since his marriage, perhaps not even since she had departed for Yorkshire before his marriage. And the reason for this was to be found in one word — Kate. The fact that the sight of a beautiful woman with whom he had only recently enjoyed the most satisfactory intimacy should be productive of no other emotion than intense embarrassment was mute testimony to the thoroughness with which Kate had invaded his life. How could she have moved in and filled his world without his being aware of the process?
Nicholas gave up trying to answer the unanswerable in favour of addressing his mental energies to the complication that had arisen out of this unanticipated meeting with Cécile. She obviously expected their affaire to continue unchanged, and for this he had only himself to thank. With distasteful clarity, he recalled promising her that his marriage would make no difference to their relationship. They had parted on the best of terms, and here she was expecting, with good reason, to continue as before. How had he managed to get himself enmeshed in such a coil? Never before had he experienced the least difficulty in extricating himself from an entanglement after the novelty had worn off, but he acknowledged with ruthless honesty that this time his sins had come home to roost. He could ig
nore her invitation, of course, but that was the coward’s way out. He must see Cécile and try to explain to her that his marriage had changed him; certainly he owed her the truth. She was assuming nothing that his behaviour had not encouraged her to assume, and it was not of the slightest use to tell himself he was not Cécile’s only admirer. She had repudiated all her numerous cicisbei when their affaire had intensified, and no matter how he tried to excuse his conduct on the grounds that promiscuous women got what they deserved, he felt a complete cad. He also felt a decided unease. Cécile was a woman of strong passions; it was something he had admired in her formerly. For a certainty she would not ease his path; in fact, he rather guessed she would adopt the role of the woman scorned and play it to the hilt.
He was in for a deuced rough voyage, and this reflection brought a black scowl to his face as he approached his grandfather’s house. James, opening the door to his master, needed but one glance to assess the situation and quietly effaced himself without venturing the least remark. Ulysses, too, glanced up from his comfortable position in front of the fireplace in Kate’s sitting room and immediately returned to his slumbers without making his customary welcoming circuit of the viscount’s legs. A slight wry smile replaced the scowl at this ability of his household to gauge his mood despite his efforts at concealment. At sight of the glad radiance in Kate’s face as she came through the door from her bedchamber, the mood vanished and his smile became real, but he caught her in his arms with a tightness that verged on desperation, as though something had threatened her.
The forthcoming interview with Cécile preyed on his mind over the next few days, but he had not yet called at Green Street when he accidentally met Robin as he was coming out of Rundell and Bridge one afternoon. The brothers strolled along together for a bit making casual small talk. Nicholas received the definite impression that Robin would prefer to pass over his own current activities, so determined were his efforts to keep the conversation on impersonal matters. He eyed him consideringly but followed his lead.
