His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7)

by Jennie Goutet

Kitty’s cheeks tinged pink. “None.” She darted her eyes up at him and gave the ghost of a smile.

  Phineas frowned. “How unusual. I would have thought the local families would have visited by now.”

  True, he did not have much experience with calling customs—it was usually his mother who handled such things, and he had never paid much attention. But he and Kitty had been in residence a couple days, and the leading families would not have delayed in making his wife's acquaintance. Perhaps they did not know she was here? They hardly even knew Phineas because he was so rarely at Giddenhall, although that would change now.

  “It would have been better for the families to come and leave their calling cards if you're not able to receive them than to risk offense by not coming. It is very strange they did not do so.”

  “Perhaps they are not pleased with your choice of a wife,” Kitty replied and gave him another significant glance. He began to appreciate the way she could voice opinions with the expression in her eyes. “After all, I do not know who should be visiting me, but I imagine it is the gentry and not the merchants.”

  He looked at her and gave a slow shake of his head. “It would not be the merchants.”

  She raised her eyebrows and smiled faintly. “I fear we may have our answer. Do you know the neighbors?”

  “I do not—not very well.” Phineas glanced at Kitty from under his brows. She held his gaze, and he drank in the sight of her unadorned beauty. He wanted to take her to every house in the village himself just to make sure they recognized her quality. “Well, I suppose we shall wait and see. We have time before the Christmas holidays, and that is generally a season when people begin to be more charitable and welcoming.” In any case, nothing could be done tonight.

  The inevitable moment had come. “Shall we retire?”

  She gave a nod, and the brisk manner in which she rose to her feet erased all cause to hope. They walked up the stairs in near silence, and Phineas brought her to her door. They stood outside of it, and he waited for her to say something, his heart rate picking up slightly. He was standing close enough to her to pick up a soft, unmistakably feminine scent and see the curve of her lips in the dim light. His feet were rooted to the spot.

  A soft smile touched those lips. “I enjoyed talking with you over dinner.” She turned to open her door and looked back at him.

  “I also enjoyed it.” Phineas stared at her an instant longer, noticing her hesitation. Would she invite him in? When her smile began to falter, Phineas saw that he had misread her intent. He bowed and turned toward his room, overcome with a sense of foolishness for having hoped. But he reflected on their conversation over dinner. It had been … comfortable. She seemed to care about what occupied his thoughts, and they had even laughed together. Try as he might, he could not imagine his parents having been able to do such a thing, even in the first blush of love.

  10

  Two days later, Kitty managed to catch Phineas at breakfast before he left by calling for Sterling an hour earlier than usual. If her aim was to spend time with him because it brought her pleasure, she kept that to herself, employing the excuse of desiring to speak with him on diverse topics, such as where he intended to find a new steward, what to do if none of the neighbors came to visit, and how much of the linens it was within her power to replace. Mrs. Morley had maintained a reserve with Kitty whenever they spoke, but she did disclose that the linens were near worn through, and that there were only two sets suitable for guests.

  “I give you full run of the household,” Phineas had said, flashing her a smile as he slathered butter on his roll. “You shall bring me your receipts, of course, to make sure we don't run into dun territory. But I believe you will do just as you ought.” This he said with something so akin to a wink, her heart was insensibly lifted. It appeared they had found peace for the present, despite their different means for coming into the marriage, and that they would heretofore be friends. It was a glimpse at domestic felicity to which she had not dared aspire.

  When the carriage was brought to the front, Kitty followed Phineas outside. He began to walk toward it but stopped after a few steps. Kitty lifted her eyes to his when he turned back, stood before her, and clasped her hand in his. He turned her hand to expose her wrist and pressed a kiss on her bare skin. When he raised his head and studied her face, she saw his eyes were more hazel than brown.

  “Unless my father insists I prolong my stay, I will bid you au revoir for one day.” Phineas bowed, his lips stretched in a smile. “Until tomorrow.”

  “Until tomorrow,” Kitty repeated, her heart thumping as he climbed in the carriage and the driver pulled forward. Phineas had treated her with unaccustomed tenderness—affection she had never known, even in her childhood home—and her heart continued to beat painfully when the carriage was no longer in sight.

  Kitty could not stand in the drive like a mooncalf wearing her sentiments for all the servants to see. It was time to demonstrate she was capable of running this household. Her husband’s show of confidence in her at breakfast was an encouraging start, for he planned to let her run things the way she liked. And Kitty did indeed enjoy running a household. She would most particularly enjoy running a nursery. The notion brought a sharp pain of longing, and she quickened her steps into the house.

  She distracted herself from Phineas’s absence and the thought that she might face yet another day that brought no visitors, by seeking out Mrs. Morley and asking to examine the two tea services.

  Mrs. Morley set down the quill she had been using to label preserves. “Of course, my lady. Right away.” She glanced at the stack of unlabelled jars, as if affronted by the delay, and walked with a stately gait into the narrow hallway that branched off into the kitchen and led to the upstairs. When Kitty did not follow, the housekeeper paused and turned. “The tea service is kept in the chinoiserie cabinet in the breakfast room.”

  “Of course.” Kitty started forward instantly, somewhat chastized. At home, their tea service was kept in the kitchen for easy washing.

  The Spode blue and gold tea service was elegant and in perfect order, except for a slight wearing on the rims of certain cups and a tiny crack in the handle of the cream pot. She examined the Sèvres tea set, which was an interesting deep pink color with gold accents, and this one did not appear to show any wear.

  “The Spode is generally used for lesser company,” Mrs. Morley said, as she carefully lifted the tall cup from Kitty’s hand. “The Sèvres is newer and has a more complete set. The dowager favoured the Spode, however, and rarely used the other.”

  “Have you inventoried the pieces?” Kitty asked, and received a look of reproof in return.

  “Of course, my lady. You will find the list of items here.” Mrs. Morley unlocked the narrow drawer in the cabinet and handed Kitty the paper. Kitty began to compare the Sèvres service with the list, but the weight of the housekeeper’s stare became uncomfortable, and she replaced the inventory in the drawer.

  “I will look this over at another time and will get the key from you when I am ready for it.”

  Mrs. Morley locked the cabinet and clasped her hands in front of her apron, waiting. Kitty was tempted to cower under the housekeeper’s cold demeanor, but she was the mistress after all. “Since I’ve seen the silver and the linens, let us now go over the napery.”

  Mrs. Morley gave a cool nod and turned without a word to lead her to the linen cupboard. She opened it and turned to the portion dedicated to tablecloths and napkins. “These are all in good order, save this set here, which is growing threadbare. It is used for the grandest dinners and will need to be replaced.”

  Kitty touched the perfectly pressed and folded table linens on the shelf above, which appeared to be similar in quality. “Can we not use these in its place? We have bed linens to purchase and that must receive our first attention.”

  “My lady,” Mrs. Morley answered, in a voice that bordered on disapproval. “You have perhaps not noticed that those are embroidered with green
foliage on the corners. That is our Christmas napery.”

  “So it is,” Kitty said, quietly, her brows drawn together. “But surely that does not prevent us from using them until something suitable may be bought.”

  A growing suspicion that her housekeeper was not overly pleased with the viscount's choice of a wife was born upon Kitty when Mrs. Morley stated with as much grandiloquence as a daughter of the peerage, “Most ladies know by instinct which napkins are to be used for the Christmas dinner, and that the cutlery showing the arms should be placed face down. But I suppose you are not to be blamed if you do not know these things.”

  Kitty pressed her lips together. Never before had she met with such insolence from a servant, but she did not think her husband’s full confidence in her extended to firing faithful servants whose employment at the estate predated her. “Mrs. Morley,” she answered evenly, “I was educated in the same manner as a gentleman’s daughter. It is only that I did not know the customs of this estate.”

  It did not take long for Kitty to excuse herself from their inventory and pick up a load of sheets she thought could be saved with a little darning. There was no shame in doing such a domestic chore herself, and it was something she rather liked. The concentration required would do much to soothe the ire that had built throughout the conversation with her housekeeper.

  A knock resounded through the hall, and Kitty looked up, her heart thumping. At last, there was a visitor—and one who would hopefully provide her introduction into village society. Kitty heard the butler's footsteps as he went to answer the door. She folded the sheet she had been darning and tucked it out of sight with the other sheets behind the servant’s door in the corner. Suddenly gripped by nerves, Kitty sat and gave a quick glance around the room to make sure everything was in order. If the neighbors had meant to let her know she was not welcome, she would not give them anything further to gossip about by having a mismanaged home.

  Bexley entered the drawing room, carrying a card. He handed it to her, and Kitty read the name, gratified to see the name Phineas had mentioned. Mrs. Dutton and her daughter, Miss Lucretia Dutton. “Send them in. I am at home to visitors.”

  Minutes later, Mrs. Dutton and her daughter were ushered in, and Kitty rose to her feet to greet them. They smiled and curtsied as they assessed one another, and Kitty signaled to the departing butler to have tea sent.

  Mrs. Dutton was a short woman with a heavy bust and small waist. Her daughter took after her, but the effect was less pronounced, and she had sweet blonde curls to her mother’s severe black hair tied under her bonnet.

  “We did not want to delay in coming to seek your acquaintance,” Mrs. Dutton said, “but we’ve been frightfully busy. I imagine you have had little time to spare with your other visits?” Her raised eyebrows and penetrating look seemed to show her hope to the contrary.

  Kitty briefly considered the idea of lying but thought the better of it. In such a small village, word was sure to get out that she’d had no visitors. “I am afraid there has been no one to see me as of yet. You are my first guests, and I'm very glad to make your acquaintance. Do sit down.”

  Mrs. Dutton’s eyes widened as she sat on the embroidered silk couch. “You don't say? Not a one? Sometimes Society, even in a small village such as this one, can be quite vicious.”

  Kitty studied her, speculating, and thought she had taken this woman's measure. Mrs. Dutton was here to collect gossip for the rest of the village and leave behind any barbs she possibly could for Kitty to painfully pluck from her heart when the visit had concluded. She decided not to be so weak. “Do you know why I am being snubbed?”

  Mrs. Dutton faltered, as she had clearly not expected such directness. It took her a moment before she was able to formulate her reply. “I am afraid I have no idea. Certainly nothing that would stop us from coming, as you can see for yourself.” Kitty did not remind her that it had taken her a week before she’d finally made her visit.

  The younger Miss Dutton seemed to be at pains to soften her mother’s words. “Where do you come from, my lady?”

  Kitty bestowed a smile upon her that was more natural than the one Mrs. Dutton had inspired. “I am from Bristol, where my brother runs a shipping company. This is how he and Lord Hayworth met.”

  “Very interesting, to be sure,” Mrs. Dutton said, seizing the reins of the conversation. “We were certain the story of your betrothal must be vastly interesting for Lord Hayworth to have favored you over all the eligible maidens who could be found closer to home. Once we saw workmen coming into the estate, we realized, of course, his wife must be someone of substance.”

  Kitty leveled a gaze at Mrs. Dutton. She was being measured once again—and this time by someone who should have no say in Kitty’s worth—sized up like some piece of merchandise that one decided to purchase or reject. Either Kitty would fit into the community or she would not, but she refused to give that power to anyone.

  “Yes, it must seem that way from the outside, but ours was a love match.” Kitty swallowed nervously, astonished that such a lie flew out of her mouth, and almost blushing to think what her husband would say if he heard it.

  Mrs. Dutton opened her eyes wide and exclaimed, “Why, how marvelous. Not one of us would have guessed it. And how did you two meet?”

  Kitty's mind was not very nimble, but she managed to conjure a most basic scenario. “It was at a private gathering of friends of my brother. Lord Hayworth was invited, and we were seated next to one another at the table. We found it very easy to converse, and our courtship started then.”

  “That is a lovely way to begin a marriage,” Miss Dutton said with a soft smile. But she seemed to possess little power next to her wolf of a mother.

  “How very astonishing,” Mrs. Dutton exclaimed, the sound of gloating evident in her tone. “I am particular friends with Lady Leighton in Bath, who grew up on the estate nearest to mine. She said that Lord Hayworth's parents were simply amazed that such a match had taken place and without their consent. They were sure Lord Hayworth had intentions for … someone else.”

  Kitty directed her regard to Mrs. Dutton, her hands clenched tightly on her lap. “A man does not generally marry to suit his parents, I believe. Whatever hopes they may have had for him, he is a grown man, of age, and able to make the decision for himself—as is evidenced by his marriage to me.”

  Every smile became more fixed. The door opened, and the butler brought the tea tray in, and Kitty stood to open the tea cabinet for the leaves and sugar. However, Mrs. Dutton stood as well, giving Kitty no time to extend an invitation. “Well, we shall not overstay our welcome. In Society, I believe a short stay is preferable to a long one. Is your husband at home now? Mr. Dutton had some matter on which he wished to speak with him. Perhaps I may give my respects.”

  Kitty turned from the cabinet and clasped her hands. “No, Lord Hayworth had business in Bath, and he is gone these two days.”

  “Gone so soon in the marriage? That must be very hard on you,” Mrs. Dutton said with spurious sympathy. “I will tell my husband to come at the end of the week, so that he is sure to catch him.”

  “I am sure my husband will be delighted to welcome him. He expressed surprise that so few people from the village had come by to felicitate him on his marriage. He will be eager to see more of his neighbors as soon as the visits may be arranged.” She met Mrs. Dutton’s stare with an even one of her own. She would not back down before such a woman.

  The three women curtsied, and when the guests turned to leave, Miss Dutton sent Kitty a soft, apologetic smile that promised, if not peace, then at least not outright war. When they left, Kitty could not sit back down. Her mind was in a turmoil. She was not accustomed to being treated to such condescension. Her brother was a respected member in Bristol society and even the Prince Regent had requested an audience with him once about a naval matter, although it had not been as long as Erasmus would have liked and had not been repeated. Everyone had always looked up to the Stokes family for t
heir connections.

  Surely her husband could not have guessed she’d have to endure such treatment, or he would not have left her to face them alone. Although there had been no very great affection in her home, Kitty had not been raised to think so little of herself. She stared at the closed door and listened to the sounds of the Duttons taking their leave. She supposed if they made no friends here, it did not matter so very much. In any case, Midlington would eventually be their home. However, since she did not expect much better treatment there, the thought did little to elevate her spirits.

  She had forgotten to speak to Craddock about her lesson, and she was just about to do that when the butler brought the mail in. There was a letter for her, which she took with eager hands. She had never felt more out of her element than she did today between Mrs. Morley’s treatment and that of Mrs. Dutton’s.

  “Thank you, Bexley.” Kitty sat and slid open the seal on the letter. The direction was in Mary's hand, and Kitty thought it decent of her to write. She had wondered if Mary would be able to find time to return her letter.

  Kitty scanned the missive, which was filled with news about her niece and nephews. At the end, some small space had been allotted to her younger brother, and she drank the words in eagerly, realizing just how much she had missed Samuel.

  Mary has allowed me a very little room in her letter, it said, and said I must use my best penmanship. I wanted to ask if I might come visit you? I believe I will not be a trouble. And I am not to leave for school for some months yet. Answer me quickly please. Yours, Samuel.

  Kitty set the letter on her lap. With Erasmus’s warning, she had set aside any hopes of having Samuel come, but now that she and Phineas had begun spending time together… Dare she ask her husband? If he said no, her disappointment would probably put more distance between them, and she thought they had been growing friendly—familiar, even. However, there was only one way she could know, and that was to ask. She resolved to do so when he returned from Bath.