“Very good, sir. I am certain we may be of help. She did not come with you?”
“No, I thought to bring them as gifts for her.” Phineas looked around, hoping something appropriate might leap out at him in the way of a gift.
“I see.” The modiste gestured toward a table with bolts of fabric arranged, it seemed, according to thickness. “Are you looking for a morning dress or an evening gown? Does your wife ride?”
Phineas almost gasped. That was the very idea. “My wife does ride,” he answered with confidence. “As a matter of fact, I should like to get her a few riding habits. Can you help?”
“When can you bring your wife in so that we may take her measurements?” The modiste looked at him expectantly.
This was a difficulty Phineas had not entertained. Of course she would need to be measured. “She is not currently in Bath. I would just like to buy her a few gifts, and when we come next month, I can bring her in to be measured.”
The modiste bit her lip and looked down at the fabric, considering. “Hmn. I see. Although we are not in the habit of giving fabric to have the dresses made up elsewhere, I might make an exception in this case. The draper is on the other side of Bath, and it will put you to a great deal of trouble to go there.” She smiled at him. “Your wife can come when she’s in town and be measured for any gown she wishes. Here are the cloths suitable for riding, and if you tell me her complexion and what pleases you, I will give you suggestions.”
Phineas explained about her red hair that had hints of brown and gold, and when he came to her pale skin and brown eyes, he stopped short. The modiste and her assistant appeared perfectly serious, but he could not help but feel they were laughing at him for his obvious calf love, especially when he let fall that he wanted one fabric in a color to match her hair, another her skin, another her eyes… Together they chose five different fabrics for riding, and Phineas pulled out his card and handed it to the modiste. “You may send the purchases and bills to this address.”
She glanced at the card, and her eyebrows lifted just slightly. “We will do so right away, my lord. If it pleases you to purchase matching hats, you may bring these swatches of fabric to the milliner, who is across the road, a bit farther. Tell him I have sent you.”
Phineas left the modiste with his swatches and walked with purpose to the milliner’s shop where an assortment of caps and bonnets were displayed. When he showed the swatches of fabric and explained what he was looking for, the clerk quickly found fetching hats to match all the fabric. Phineas had no trouble imagining his wife wearing them. These were also sent to his father's residence.
Following the milliner was the art gallery where, to Phineas’s astonishment, he discovered among the landscapes a painting of Bristol overlooking the wharf. It looked very like the street where Stokes lived. He bought it immediately, wanting Kitty to gaze upon the scene of her childhood, so she would not be lonely for it. The painting was large and unwieldy, and he ordered to have that sent to his father's home as well.
A sense of foolishness followed him as he left the gallery. His father would have something to say about all these packages that were arriving for Phineas. Still, he walked even farther to the jeweler. He would stop at this one last place. Inside, he looked over each set of jewels the clerk showed him and settled on the yellow and green sapphires, the green of which reminded him of Kitty’s wedding dress. The chain of the necklace was gold, which would be pretty against her neck. And yellow was a color of autumn, which would suit her to perfection.
Phineas had them wrapped up, and he tucked them in his pocket before heading to his parents’ home. It was growing late. He had spent all this time outdoors and in the shops, but he now walked with brisk steps against the cold. There was something good and right in showing his wife how much he valued her. He could not wait for her to know it.
12
Kitty’s new life, as wife to a viscount in a strange estate, in a strange village, had not had a promising beginning. She had met with resistance from both her housekeeper and Mrs. Dutton, having expected it from neither. She well knew the loss of freedom she was likely to have as a wife negotiated for convenience rather than sought by love. What she did not expect was the lack of respect shown her—a thing she had never experienced in her small but esteemed former circle. How odd that the thing she feared the most—being married to a stranger—ended up being the thing she most cherished. And the thing she took for granted—respect and a degree of honor from the servants, at the very least, if not the local families—was withheld from her.
Kitty missed Phineas. She could only describe her mood as despondent when he didn’t return the next day as she’d hoped. That was another odd sensation—feeling incomplete when someone wasn’t there. Perhaps it was simply because he was the only person she could talk to as an equal, and his conversation had been surprisingly agreeable. He was not above showing himself interested in learning her views. This was something to which she was not accustomed, for neither her brother nor her father had ever shown the slightest interest in what she had to say. Between the sullen housekeeper and the veiled hostility of her guests, Kitty had no one that entered into her feelings. The loneliness she was used to. The animosity she was not.
It was time for her riding lesson with Craddock. So far, she had not missed a morning since her first lesson, except for the day when she had decided it might interfere with her husband's departure and her meeting with Mrs. Morley. Considering how things had gone with the housekeeper, she would have done better to have gone riding. In their lessons, she and Craddock had grown more familiar to a certain degree, and the groom had succeeded in making her laugh and forget for a minute that she was in a household where the housekeeper did not esteem her very much, and the local families were not overly desirous of meeting her.
Today, Craddock would be riding next to her on his own horse instead of walking and leading hers, and they would venture farther on the path that wound around the estate and through the woods that encircled it. They set out at a comfortable pace, and the conversation sprang up more easily between them when riding side by side.
“I have had news from my sister-in-law, which should not be astonishing, I own. But with Mary it is. She is not overly fond of me.”
Craddock held a rope attached to Fawn’s cavesson, and he gave a gentle tug when Fawn threatened to fall behind. “Mrs. Stokes, is it? I believe I have met her once. My cousin invited her to tea while I was there.” Craddock shot Kitty a measuring glance. “She seems an unfriendly sort. Spoke about her children.”
Kitty did not want to throw her own sister-in-law to the wolves, so she merely shrugged. “She is not so very bad. It is true she concerns herself with her own children and the affairs of her household, but I suppose that should not be surprising. However, her household interests did not extend to me. That is why I was all the more delighted to receive a letter from her with news of my niece and nephews, whom I miss dreadfully—and my brother was given space to write, as well.”
“You mean Stokes? Mary’s husband?” Craddock clarified.
She shook her head. The thought of Erasmus taking the time to write made her want to laugh. “No, my younger brother, Sam. He will be heading off to Harrow next autumn and has asked if he might come here to visit. I hope it might be arranged.”
Craddock gestured to the left. “We will follow this path for it is smoother, and the horses are less likely to be spooked by a rabbit darting across the road or some such thing.” She followed his lead, and the conversation turned to trite subjects as they rode on the path that eventually circled back toward the estate. She relaxed as she listened to his Bristolian accent, only slightly different from Somerset and Wiltshire. It sounded familiar and like home, and Kitty could almost fill in the gaps and add affection where there had been none just from its musical lilt.
She had forgotten their earlier topic of conversation until he said, “Do you think your husband would allow your brother to come and visit? You bei
ng so newly married?”
Kitty breathed in the brisk air and looked over to where the meadow stretched and sloped downward. There was a line of trees far in the distance. “I cannot know until I ask him,” she replied. “I shall have to do so.”
“So he does entertain your requests?” Craddock glanced sideways at Kitty, his gaze assessing. The thought flashed through her mind that perhaps this friendly conversation was not entirely proper between mistress and servant—discussing her husband's affairs with the groom, never mind that he was her neighbor’s cousin.
“I have no reason to believe he would do otherwise,” she said, her gaze forward. She hoped he would sense the inappropriateness without her needing to wound him by a snub.
“He is an unusual member of the peerage, then.” Craddock trained his gaze ahead, his posture and voice easy, as if he were a peer himself, or a gentleman coming to court her, rather than a groom. “I had guessed yours was an arranged marriage that gave little promise for happiness. There is small chance of having an understanding like you might find with someone from your own set. Surely you must have turned down several offers?”
Kitty pressed her lips together. She would not speak about her offers. As it stood, there had been one, and as wholly ineligible in her mind as it had been unwelcome. However, this was not a subject to discuss, no matter how connected she was to the groom.
After some silence, Craddock looked up at the canopy of bare branches stretching over the road and sighed. “I suppose I must ask your forgiveness. I am being impertinent with my questions.”
Kitty focused on the bobbing head of her horse before answering. His questions had crossed a line, but he had apologized. He did seem to come to her in the guise of a friend, and she had so few of those now. “It is kind of you to concern yourself with me,” she said at last. “However, I will say that I don't believe my husband to be an ogre.”
“No, he is not that. He may not be distinguished looking, but he is not so repulsive as an ogre.” Craddock laughed, and she was struck by the air of coldness underneath his handsome features.
Kitty furrowed her brows. She supposed in objective study, Craddock was by far the more handsome of the two with his even features, glinting regard and masculine jaw. But Phineas was distinguished looking. Perhaps his natural expression was one of brooding, but his smile lit his face and reached even his eyes. She would have to see that he smiled more often.
Not distinguished looking. The words continued to echo in the silence, grating like vinegar on a wound. Perhaps that was the measure used by a man such as Craddock, who had been blessed with more than the ordinary share of physical attraction. But her husband was certainly distinguished looking, at least in her eyes. She could not let the claim go unchecked.
“He is not repulsive, no,” she replied with a small smile, causing Craddock to glance at her again. He reached over as they neared the stables and steered the reins, his gloved hands touching hers. She knew an impulse to pull away, but she did not want to make a scene. He was her instructor after all, and there was nothing so inappropriate in that.
Once inside the stables, Craddock slid off his horse and latched the reins around the peg on the stable door. “Here, allow me to assist you,” he said.
Kitty sat without moving for a moment, unsure how she was to dismount. Her thighs were chafed and her legs were very sore. This was the farthest they had gone yet, and she was not used to this particular exercise. However, she could not remain sitting on the horse. With a deep breath, she lay her hand on the one he held out and slid to the ground. Her feet stinging with pins and needles and her knees weak, Kitty found her legs could not hold her, and she stumbled forward. Craddock caught her around her waist.
She was shocked into inaction at their nearness and her knees too feeble from riding for her to pull away. Craddock bent his head down and caught her gaze, his smile too intimate for what their situation could allow. She opened her mouth to speak and pushed off from his chest at the same time. Her attempt was far from effective.
“My lady.” A familiar, albeit icy, voice reached Kitty, and she turned and saw her husband standing in the entrance of the stable.
Phineas! He must have breakfasted early and left Bath immediately afterward. The look in his eyes was hard and glittering, so wholly unlike anything Kitty had seen in him before. What must her husband think? Phineas doubted her innocence. How could he not when he came upon such a picture? His frowning gaze caused her own guilt to prick at her. Perhaps she was not quite so innocent, having allowed such familiarity to grow between her and Craddock. She tried to respond calmly.
“My lord, how glad I am to see you safely returned. Might I request your assistance? My ride has been longer than I'm accustomed, and I fear my legs will not hold me.”
After an instant’s pause, Phineas bowed and moved her way.
“Craddock,” he said curtly, as he passed the groom. He held out his arm, and Kitty put her hand in it. Using her husband’s arm for support, she left the stable on shaky legs that did not entirely have to do with having ridden for two hours.
They walked out of the stables into the bright sun. Their feet crunched over the frozen ground and Kitty's nose smarted from the cold air. It seemed it would not be long before there was snow, although it was early in the season for that. They were silent, and Kitty felt her husband's anger through his tense muscles and the brisk stride to which she had to hurry to keep up. She ought to say something, to defend herself, because she was certainly innocent. Phineas likely drew some conclusion over her proximity to Craddock, but he should give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps she was not a lady in the sense of having been born to the gentry, but she was certainly raised as one.
However, the silence could not continue. She had to say something. “Was your journey a successful one?”
“It was.” She thought the clipped reply would be all he offered her, but Phineas added, “I have a steward who will join me next week.”
Her husband slowed his pace somewhat, perhaps at last realizing Kitty had trouble keeping up. She strove for a topic that could ease them into the natural conversation they’d had before he left. She missed it. “My riding lessons have gone well. I have progressed to riding outside the pasture.”
“So I see.” His voice had reverted to its harsh tone and was now tinged with awful irony.
A surge of irritation welled up in Kitty's breast. He was set on punishing her. Should not a gentleman have more trust in his wife? Still, she strove for reconciliation by keeping to more neutral topics. “I have gone over various housekeeping duties with Mrs. Morley and have made some small changes.” She did not think it necessary to add that the housekeeper treated her with barely concealed disdain. They were nearing the manor now, and Kitty had the unreasonable fear that if they reached the house without understanding one another, all was lost.
“That is good,” was the only answer he gave. All would be lost.
They climbed the stone steps, and before they reached the top, Phineas paused and looked at her. His eyes had lost some of their hardness, but they were still veiled and distant. “I have purchased a few necessities for you. I will see that the footman brings them to your room.” He continued the rest of the way up the stairs, and the butler opened the door from within. “I have much to see to,” he continued. “I will be in my study if you need anything.” Once inside, he dropped his arm and slid away from her. Her own arm dropped to her side.
Kitty had been so looking forward to her husband's return, and this was not the welcome she’d hoped for. She did not know how to bridge the gap. It seemed like such a trivial, ridiculous thing to confess that nothing had happened with the groom. It would almost make her seem guilty to have to defend herself in this way. And she had needed Phineas’s support, not his condemnation. No, begging his understanding was not something she could or would do.
The butler was looking at her strangely, and Kitty realized she was standing, lost in thought, in the semi-dar
kened hallway. She turned and went up the stairs. Perhaps if she rang a bell, someone would bring a tea tray to her room. Maybe there were at least one or two servants loyal enough to her to do her bidding.
A short while later, Sterling brought her a platter of tea, and there were cookies as well, and the two restored Kitty’s comfort. Sterling was not warm, but she did not openly rebel against Kitty. No footman had arrived with any of the items Phineas had thought her in need of, and she had had time to wonder what they might be. A full wardrobe accompanied her, and Kitty could not imagine what he thought she lacked. Perhaps he had bought her books, thinking to educate her. Apparently, his opinion of her did not run overly high if he thought she was so ill bred as to engage in some dalliance the minute he left the estate. She set her cup and saucer down with force, and the porcelain clinked on the tray.
An hour later, Kitty heard a knock, and she opened the door. There was not one, but three footmen bringing in packages for her. Her eyes widened as she stepped aside to make way. “You may set those things on the table near the fireplace.” The three footmen did as she bid and closed the door behind them when they left.
Kitty examined the packages. One of the objects was rather large and was wrapped in cloth. She pulled at the string, and it opened to reveal a square gilded frame that was the perfect size for where the wall was bare above the chest of drawers. The painting was heavy, but she was able to pick it up and lean it against the table and stand back to look at it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a painting of Bristol, not far from where she lived at her brother’s house—a portion of the wharf she sometimes walked with Sam and her niece and nephew. She blinked several times, prey to a mix of emotions that encompassed nostalgia and a strange vulnerability. Her husband had not purchased a necessity, but rather an exceptionally thoughtful gift. And he had thought of her when he was in Bath.
His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7) Page 11
