His Disinclined Bride (Seasons of Change Book 7)

by Jennie Goutet

  Kitty took steps forward. “Because he has become too familiar.” She lay her hand on Phineas’s desk. “I allowed him liberties in his speech because he is my neighbor’s cousin, and I did not wish to put tension in our two families. But he has gone too far.”

  Phineas shot to his feet and came to the side of the desk where he faced Kitty. “What has he done?”

  Kitty pressed her lips together. She still did not want to ruin their family relations, but Craddock had propositioned her after all. This was not something she could keep from her husband. “He has not touched me…” Her words trailed away when she remembered his hand on her knee, his hands on her arms to keep her from leaving, his touching her cheek. “Well, not in such a very bad way.”

  When Phineas opened his mouth in outrage, she hastened to explain. “I beg you not to do something hasty. I did not allow him to press his advantage. But he did offer me a dishonorable proposition, which I refused at once.”

  “You refused?” Phineas’s words came out harshly, but she saw the hurt and the hope in his eyes. It was the hope that gave her the strength to continue.

  “I most certainly refused. Phineas, we are married. I do not take those vows lightly. Although I do not wish to harm my relationship with my neighbor, I see no choice for it but to let him go and replace him with someone”—her brows knit as she attempted to find a suitable word—“older?”

  Phineas’s tension showed in the cords of his neck and his clenched jaw, but at Kitty’s words a laugh escaped him. A relieved, agonized laugh. “Older?” he said.

  She decided to stick to it, and nodded. A nervous laugh escaped her as well. “Older,” she repeated.

  Phineas looked down at his hand resting on the desk near hers. His shoulders relaxed. “He will be gone by morning.”

  When Phineas lifted his gaze to Kitty’s, it was filled with longing. She thought this must be how he had looked at her when he’d kissed her last night, but she could only imagine it in the dim, moonlit corridor. Now she saw it in broad daylight. She took a tiny step forward, longing to run to him and have him wrap her in an embrace—longing to be comforted with his arms around her—but she did not dare close the distance.

  “I did not trust you,” Phineas said.

  Kitty looked down and lifted a shoulder wordlessly. She’d known it, and it had saddened her, but what could she say? She wasn’t sure she deserved his trust when she hadn’t cut Craddock’s attentions short.

  “I am sorry,” he said softly.

  His gentle words brought her gaze back up to meet his, and the moment grew heavy with meaning and then longing. Kitty parted her lips but could not speak the words he’d claimed he wished to hear from her. He was a good man and was showing himself to be an ideal husband. He even treated Samuel like family. A yearning grew in her own breast for something more than this friendly, civil arrangement of theirs. “Phineas—”

  The door swung open abruptly. “Phineas, Kitty! Come and see! I shot an arrow fifteen yards and hit my target!”

  Phineas shifted his gaze to Samuel, then looked back at Kitty, a rueful smile hovering on his lips. He gave a small shrug. “That sounds like something I can’t miss, Sam.” He brushed past her, leaving a scent of sandalwood and warmth.

  At the door, Phineas looked back at her. “Coming?”

  She nodded and hurried to catch up. Not only was Phineas kinder than she had had any right to expect from an arranged match—if she were being honest with herself, she would likely not have done much better—but he was extending his heart to her in his own reserved way. Perhaps it would not be long before he declared his love for her the way every woman longed to hear from her husband.

  18

  Early the next morning, Phineas entered the stable. Craddock stood on one side of the aisle, rubbing a saddle with a cloth. He looked up in time to spot Phineas and stood straight, folding his arms.

  Phineas came to stand in front of him. “Have you seen that the wheel is aligned on the traveling coach as I requested of you?”

  Craddock shifted on his feet and met Phineas’s gaze fleetingly. “I have, my lord. The coach is ready to depart for Bath.”

  “Very good. You may hitch the horses to it and have it brought around to the front of the house by one of the stable hands.” Phineas flicked a piece of invisible lint from his sleeve. “You are not to accompany the coach, for I do not want my wife to have to meet you again before you leave.”

  Craddock's face hardened with suspicion, and he pulled at the cloth between his two hands. “What do you mean … before I leave?”

  “I mean you are no longer welcome here. Not after you have made advances on my wife.” Phineas had been in control of himself until now—had prepared himself to be perfectly restrained during the conversation—but a burst of anger propelled him a step closer until he was face to face with Craddock.

  “And although I have every right to run you through—and do not think I lack the courage or the skill to do it—I will not. It is enough that you have lost. My wife has no interest in you, and you will have to answer to God for what you are. As for the rest, your employment at Giddenhall is done. You may collect your earnings from the steward. If ever I see that you have attempted to contact my wife again, it will be the last thing you do. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Perfectly.” Craddock spoke the word through gritted teeth, and turned away.

  Kitty was already in the entryway, charmingly attired in yet another traveling dress Phineas had never seen. In everything she wore, she demonstrated her superior taste. He noticed a familiar package in her hands as she climbed into the coach behind Samuel. Her maid came next, carrying a small case.

  Phineas swung himself into the coach and sat at Kitty’s side with Samuel and Sterling facing them. “What is that?” he asked, nodding at the package in her hands.

  “These are some of the fabrics I plan to have made into riding habits when I am in Bath. I will have the others made up by a seamstress in Castle Combe to support the work of someone local.” Kitty’s direct gaze started his heart thumping again. The restraint between them had fled, now that he knew he had been wrong about her interest in Craddock, and the man would not be here to bother them when they returned.

  And she was at last planning to have the fabric he bought her put to use. Nothing could be better. “I can bring you to the modiste who sold the cloth to me. I am sure she will be very glad to have your business. My friend, Bromley, recommended her to me.” Phineas placed his hand on the package Kitty held—a poor second to placing his hand in hers. “I am glad you are going to use them.”

  “How could I not? The colors suit me so well, and the feel of the cloth is exquisite.” Kitty turned to smile at him, and he was momentarily blinded. She looked ahead quickly. “Sam, don't place your feet on Lord Hayworth’s seat.”

  “Sam has permission to call me Phineas,” her husband corrected her.

  She flashed him another grateful smile before Samuel claimed Phineas’s attention. He launched into a whirlwind of what he'd seen on his ride to Giddenhall, asking if they would be traveling back on the same road. Phineas answered his questions whenever Samuel paused for breath, but his mind was on Kitty. She liked my gifts. It was too bad he had never been inside her bedroom to see whether she had had the painting hung and where she put it.

  They arrived in Bath without much difficulty, and Phineas directed the driver to the house Erasmus had rented for the wedding. He had received a letter stating that Erasmus would be renting the same house for Kitty's arrival, and that they could bring Samuel there. The coach pulled up in front of the door, and the footman went to ring the bell. Phineas ordered the driver to bring the maid to his parents’ townhouse and then come back for them.

  “Sam!” Edward came running out to greet his cousin, with Helen following behind. Kitty climbed out of the carriage and lay her hand on Phineas’s arm. “Are we intending to stay for a bit or do we go directly to your parents’ house?”

  “What
would you like to do?” Phineas placed his other hand over hers as the groom stepped down to stand at the lead horse’s head.

  “I would like to see the children if possible,” Kitty answered. “Perhaps we might go in just for tea?”

  Phineas nodded and modified his instructions to the driver to have the coach brought to the mews after having deposited Sterling. Inside, they were relieved of their outerwear, and Mrs. Stokes came forward with a smile that did not appear to Phineas to hold any warmth.

  “Kitty, my lord—Erasmus will be right with you. He has only to finish a letter. We have been expecting you, and I had the tea service readied. The maid will bring it up as soon as the water is hot. Please come to the drawing room.”

  Phineas followed Kitty into the drawing room, where Samuel was demonstrating his archery victory to a rapt younger cousin in the corner of the room. Kitty faced her sister-in-law. “Mary, will you bring William to see me?”

  Mary signaled for the footman to notify Nurse, then turned to Kitty. “Yes, he has grown since you last saw him I believe. He is quite a handsome boy by now and looks very like Edward.” Mary took a chair near Kitty and cast an indulgent glance at her oldest son.

  “He was always a darling,” Kitty said. William was soon brought in and immediately reached out for Kitty, who sat and tucked him into her arms. She mouthed sweet nothings to the baby, who beamed at her in return, then bent down to kiss his neck, making William laugh. It was a beautiful moment, if a bit tortuous to watch. This woman was destined to be a mother, and if her children looked anything like her, they would be beautiful. Still, so little progress had been made in that direction.

  Kitty glanced at him, and Phineas averted his gaze, fearing his desire was written on his face. He ardently wanted this woman to bear his children. She so clearly wanted to be a mother as well—but did she want that with him?

  Erasmus entered the room. “Hayworth.” He walked forward and reached out his hand, and Phineas shook it.

  Kitty darted her eyes to her brother, and Phineas wondered whether it was because Stokes had dropped the ‘my lord’ or because he hadn’t bothered to greet her. To tell the truth, the intimacy of his name on Stokes’s lips irritated Phineas, but he hid it. This was his wife's brother, and it was part of the bargain.

  Taking a seat, Erasmus asked about their journey and the improvements at Giddenhall but directed all his questions to Phineas. Kitty kept her attention on William and did not seem to notice the slight. At last, Erasmus paused and glanced at his wife. “Why do you not both join us for dinner this week, now that you are here? What evening would be suitable for you?”

  Kitty directed pleading eyes to Phineas. He could see that she was pleased by the invitation. As for himself, he had little desire to dine with Stokes, but he supposed he owed it to his wife since they were staying with his family.

  “I believe Wednesday next would suit,” Phineas replied. “I will have much to attend to once we arrive, but my family cannot claim our attention every day.”

  A smile lit Kitty’s face as Erasmus announced, “We will have dinner on Wednesday, then. Well, Samuel.” At last, Erasmus noticed his younger brother. “How did you find your stay at Giddenhall?”

  Samuel abandoned his conversation with Edward at once and came over, eyes shining. “I learned how to shoot my arrow farther than ever, and I learned to ride.”

  “That puts me in mind of something, Erasmus.” Kitty swiveled in her seat, her hands still caressing the baby’s head. “You must see to Samuel's riding lessons if he is going to find his place at Harrow. I know you would not wish him to be behind in such matters. Lord Hayworth went to Harrow, and he can tell you.” She turned to Phineas. “Is that not so? That he must have riding lessons?”

  Phineas did not wish to tell another man how to rear his own family, but he could not be insensible to Kitty’s plea on Samuel’s behalf. “It is true. Without them, he will be at a disadvantage compared to the other boys. However, if the idea does not displease you, we thought to invite Samuel again early in the winter for another stay.” Samuel was following the conversation closely, and he turned eager eyes on Erasmus.

  Stokes rubbed his chin and nodded. “Of course, of course. Whatever you think is best for the boy. I hope he was not too much trouble for you?”

  “None at all.” The conversation passed on to other topics, and they took tea while Kitty focused on keeping the cup far out of William’s reach. When finished, Phineas called to have the carriage brought back around before riding the short distance to his parent’s house.

  “I fear you may have to put up with another round of tea with my parents,” he said in the carriage, glad to have her alone again. He wondered where his mother would put them in their house. There was a larger bedroom on the west side of the house that would be perfect.

  “Not to worry,” she said, her mind appearing to be untroubled by such thoughts as he was entertaining. “Although I'm not sure I can drink very much more before I float away.”

  Phineas laughed at the sally, but he was nervous. He hoped his parents would be on their best behavior and treat Kitty with the warmth and respect she deserved as his wife.

  Seamus showed them into the drawing room, and Phineas’s parents joined them shortly afterwards.

  “Well, Katherine…” Phineas’s mother pinched her lips as though it was hard enough for her to say Kitty's proper name. The nickname was nigh impossible. “I hope you are pleased with your marriage so far—and your life at Giddenhall.”

  Kitty curtsied to Lord and Lady Midlington. “I am very pleased,” she replied. There was respect in her tone, but no obsequiousness, and Phineas was glad. She would finish by earning his parents’ respect; there was no question.

  “And what changes have you begun to make to your estate?” his father asked Phineas, settling into the armchair across from theirs. He had done little more than nod at Kitty.

  Phineas launched into the repairs made on the tenants’ houses, while his mother and Kitty listened to their conversation. This was not exactly how he’d hoped their first real meeting would go. He hoped his wife and mother would discover shared interests and have their own conversation.

  When the subject of repairs was spent, Phineas’s mother sat up straighter. “We have decided to host a ball in a week. This will introduce Katherine to Society and show everyone that we are pleased with the match. It is something we should have done from the beginning, but the betrothal was performed in such a rushed manner.” Lady Midlington’s eyes darted to Kitty's belly, and Phineas was startled. The realization of what his mother had implied filled him with shock and disgust. She went on smoothly. “If you have no objections, that is.”

  Phineas was unsure if Kitty had seen the glance and all that it meant. She answered in an even tone. “I've no objections at all, my lady. I will be very happy to meet your acquaintances.”

  Phineas’s mother primmed her mouth. “Mind you, it is not so much for you to make their acquaintance as it is for us to show them there is nothing wrong with your marriage. Nothing could be worse than scandal attached to our name.” At those words, Kitty's expression fell.

  It was the worst timing and Phineas felt it acutely, but it could not be avoided. “I beg your pardon—Mother, Father.” He glanced at his wife, sympathy in his expression. “Kitty, I have arranged to meet Carter to bring him up to date on the affairs of the estate. I did not intend to stay so long at Stokes's house, and I see now I have fallen behind. Mother, I know you will make Kitty feel welcome while I attend to this visit. I am sure Kitty would like to rest after her journey.”

  Phineas stood and took a step toward Kitty with an impulse to kiss her on the cheek. He could not bring himself to do it, however. Not with his parents watching, and not with the memory of his mother’s meaning-filled glance at her midsection. He opened his mouth to speak but could not think of anything that would make the situation better, so Phineas gave a brief nod instead and left.

  The silence that ensu
ed as he shut the door behind him was not reassuring. He stood in the corridor listening, thinking that perhaps he should send word to Carter that he would not come after all. It would only delay matters, and they had weeks of work to catch up on, but he could not bear for his wife to suffer any awkwardness so soon upon arrival.

  After a long moment, he heard his mother speaking, then his father. He heard Kitty’s voice as well. The conversation had picked up again in his absence. This would give them a chance to know one another more freely. A sense of relief coursed through him, and he picked up his hat and gloves that were lying on the side table as the footman opened the door.

  Had it really been necessary for Phineas to arrange to meet his man of business on the day they arrived? By doing so, he had left her completely unprotected, and Kitty’s breath quickened in her irritation. She refused to be nervous before her in-laws, although she did not feel their welcome. Lord Midlington got to his feet immediately and muttered about having some important affairs to see to. She stood and curtsied, then sat again and turned to Lady Midlington, hopeful of finding some common ground.

  “I am glad we were able to come to Bath. It gives me a chance to discover where Phineas spent his childhood.”

  “Well, you should know that Phineas grew up on Midlington Estate. He is the son of an earl, although I understand if the significance is difficult for you to appreciate, having had no experience with grand estates.”

  Kitty's tea was practically untouched, and although she had taken it again in her hands, she now set it down on the table before her. “It is true. I have never lived on an estate until Giddenhall, but I do have some understanding of how estates are run from my time spent there.”

  Lady Midlington began lining up the spoons on the tray before her. “Yes, but you have spent mere weeks. Not a lifetime like my son has. Giddenhall is nothing like Midlington. It is much smaller, and neither Lord Midlington nor I can understand why he chose to go there rather than continue working on the estate he will one day inherit.”