In the Shadow of Arabella Read online

  “He was your first choice, is that not so?”

  “He never offered for me.”

  Rudley walked to the window and gazed out with unseeing eyes. He wanted to ask why she had married him. He wanted to ask if she loved Parnaby, but the answer was obvious. She had gone north to meet Parnaby; she had chosen Rudley as her husband because of all the candidates on her “list” he had the most to offer. He found he could not bring himself to ask these questions, for he knew he could not bear to hear her answers.

  The silence in the room dragged on as Rudley continued at the window and Katherine remained in her chair. He threw open one of the casements and allowed the warm breeze to pour over him. The day was as fresh as ever, the sky as blue. White clouds hung soft as feathers above and the surface of the lake sparkled as sunshine bounced off ripples stirred by the breeze.

  He saw none of the beauty before him, for he was consumed by only one thought. Katherine was pregnant—possibly with another man’s child.

  He turned suddenly from the window. His tone was that of a stranger, harsh and unfamiliar. “Did you go to Parnaby’s home repeatedly while you were in Lincolnshire?”

  “Yes. I went to visit his mother. She—”

  “Do you truly expect me to believe that? Even Kendall saw you with him.”

  “I rode with him. Is that so terrible?”

  “You took no groom along. You were alone with a man you once hoped to wed. And you swear nothing inappropriate happened?’’

  She opened her mouth to deny any wrongdoing, then hesitated as she remembered the indelicate conversation she had shared with James, remembered the kiss to which she had initially responded. The pause lengthened while she tried to form an answer that would be both honest and unhurtful to him.

  “Your silence speaks most eloquently, Katherine. I think we have said all there is to say.”

  He paused for a few moments, and when he continued, his voice was devoid of all feeling. “I will be leaving for London immediately, and I will hope that no pressing business calls me back here in the near future.”

  She looked up in shock at these words. “Can we not talk? I can explain!”

  “You could offer explanations from now until sundown, and not one of them would alter the facts. I knew you were attracted to Parnaby, but I thought that once he was lost to you, you would put it all behind you. I never imagined you would carry on an affaire with him—”

  She interrupted him in quick defense. “It was not an affaire! I rode with him. I kissed him, but we were never together—not in the way you think!”

  “So you say. Unfortunately, I find myself unable to believe you. If this is his child, and if it should be a boy, I will be expected to accept Parnaby’s bastard as my legitimate heir! Yesterday I would have willingly laid down my life for love of you. Today I cannot forgive you for forcing me into this compromising position and for placing the future of my family in jeopardy.”

  Then, without waiting for a reply, he tossed the journal into her lap, turned on his heel, and was gone. Katherine knew, as she watched him leave the room, that her only chance for happiness went with him.

  Rudley sent orders round to the stables for Navigator, and when he descended the steps twenty minutes later, he found his head groom holding the horse in the drive. “Do not expect him back, Henderson. I am taking him to London.”

  “Your lordship would make better time with the curricle.’’

  “I am not in a hurry, and I wish to have him with me in town.”

  “But it is forty-five miles, m’lord,” the groom objected.

  “I am well aware of the distance, Henderson,” he snapped. “If you are concerned for Navigator, rest assured your concern can be no greater than mine. I will not overtax his strength.”

  “No, of course not, m’lord. I did not mean to imply that you would.”

  Rudley sprang easily into the saddle, gathered the reins, and moved off down the drive at a brisk trot. When he joined the main road, he did not turn toward London but struck off to the west instead. He followed the high road for a short distance and then turned left-handed onto a narrow bridle path that wound its way slowly downhill until it came to the stream that fed the lake at Rudley Court.

  It was a small stream, perhaps five feet across, and shallow. Years ago, someone had constructed a sturdy footbridge in the event that the path should be used by pedestrians.

  Rudley dismounted and, tethering Navigator to a low branch, walked onto the bridge and sat down upon its edge. The water was higher than usual with the recent rains, but his boots still cleared the surface by more than a foot.

  He stared down into the rushing water and could recall almost word for word the conversation he and Arabella had here nearly eleven years ago. It was on this bridge that she had told him she was increasing and the child was not his. Not content with the initial pain she inflicted, she turned the knife in the wound by adding that the only reason she had married at all was to save herself from disgrace and that she had chosen him simply for his title and his wealth.

  He and his wife had been estranged from that day forth. For the next five months until Pamela was born, he suffered agonies, cursing himself for the impatience that prompted his hasty marriage and blaming himself for his stupidity in the choice of a wife.

  Until today he had not given much credence to the maxim that history repeats itself, but now he had become an example of it. What evil fate haunted his life that he should be burdened with the support of children, none of them his own? Arabella died without revealing the identity of Pamela’s father. Rudley publicly acknowledged the child as his own but could never feel close to her, for she was a living testament to her mother’s duplicity. Katherine’s condition had plunged him back into the same hell from which he had struggled to climb for ten miserable years.

  After remounting Navigator, Rudley returned to the high road and set a steady pace toward London. He stopped for dinner at Woking, having fasted since breakfast, and bespoke a room there for the night. He arrived in Cavendish Square the following day to find that Oliver was not in town but had gone down to Buckinghamshire to spend a few days with Lord and Lady Finley.

  “I am going to bathe, Benson. When I come down, I would like some brandy in the library. If anyone should call, I am not at home.”

  When Rudley announced the plans for his marriage, his aunt Helen had declared her intention to return to her cottage near Greenwich. At the same time Oliver offered to take rooms of his own in town, but Rudley rejected the idea. “Nonsense. Katherine and I plan to spend most of our time in Hampshire and you will oblige me by staying here. You know how much I dislike having the house empty.”

  So Oliver had stayed on at Rudley House, but the earl was relieved to find him away from home on this occasion. He was not yet prepared to discuss his reasons for leaving the country, and it would be impossible to hide his distress from his intuitive brother.

  For three days Rudley stayed alone at home, eating little and sleeping less. As a young man of twenty-two he had been overcome by despair when he learned of Arabella’s treachery. To a man in his position, the family, the title, the direct line of descent were paramount. He had carried a heavy burden of guilt for failing those generations of Seatons who had gone before him. It had been his responsibility to faithfully protect the line, and he had failed. The family honor had been compromised. He had not known what he would do if his wife bore a son. But Arabella had borne a daughter, and disaster had been averted.

  Yet now he found himself facing the same impossible situation again. He had lived this nightmare before and knew from past experience that there was no solution to the problem now facing him. Yet he could not bid his mind be still, for this time fate had woven a subtle alteration into the fabric of his dilemma.

  When Arabella had admitted her deceit to him, it had been an easy thing for his bitterness and disillusionment to override and destroy any tender feelings he had ever borne her. But with Katherine he was not to b
e so fortunate. She, like Arabella, had deceived him. Yet, beneath the fury in his mind and the pain in his heart, he could not deny he loved her still.

  Oliver arrived in London late in the afternoon on Monday, and Benson greeted him at the door with profound relief. “His lordship is here, sir. He arrived Friday, from Hampshire.”

  Oliver relinquished his hat, gloves, and whip into the man’s hands as he answered, “Is he? The Brents are back in town. No doubt he came up to collect Miss Stillwell.”

  “His lordship has not been to the Brents’, sir. He has not gone out at all since he arrived. I am concerned for him. He says very little, and he has eaten almost nothing since he came. He sits hour after hour in the library drinking a bit too much brandy, if you don’t mind my saying so. Last night he never went to bed at all but just sat all night by the fire.”

  “Where is he now, Benson?”

  “Still there, sir, in the library, with strict orders that he is not to be disturbed.”

  “Thank you, Benson. Try not to worry. I will see what I can do.” Oliver stepped across the hall and entered the library.

  Rudley was standing by the windows that gave onto the square. He turned to face the door as Oliver entered, and Oliver saw at once that the butler was not exaggerating his brother’s condition. Rudley had not been shaved and his clothes certainly looked as if they had been slept in. He seemed thinner, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. The eyes themselves were red-rimmed and bloodshot from a lack of sleep and an excess of alcohol.

  Oliver crossed to his brother in a few long strides. He made no attempt to hide the concern in his voice when he said, “My God, Ned, what have you been doing to yourself? You look awful!”

  Rudley ignored the question as he asked, “Did you find our sister and her husband well?”

  “Well enough. What are you doing here? Is there some trouble between you and Katherine?”

  The earl gave a short, scornful laugh. “That is certainly one way of putting it. Let us just say I have found it necessary to put some distance between my wife and myself.”

  “Must we speak in riddles, Ned? Tell me what has happened, and perhaps there will be some way I can help.”

  Rudley shook his head with finality. “No, dear brother, there is no way you can help this time, any more than you could the last. My wife, you see, has decided to do a repeat performance of Arabella’s marvelous pregnancy scene. It is to be my pleasure and privilege to receive, for the second time in my life, the gift of another man’s child to raise as my own.”

  “What madness is this?” Oliver exclaimed in shocked disbelief. “Katherine’s child is yours!”

  “So I believed. Until last Thursday, when I had the pleasure of meeting Katherine’s stepfather and learning from him of Katherine’s tryst with Parnaby in Lincolnshire in May.”

  “Her stepfather? I thought she had no family aside from her sister.’’

  “So did I. It seems that was not true.”

  “But this is incredible! There must be some explanation. Katherine would not purposely deceive you! She is not at all like …” He broke off, unwilling to continue.

  “Not at all like Arabella? A week ago I would have agreed with you. But it appears we have both been mistaken.”

  “What explanation did she offer?”

  “She said she was visiting Parnaby’s mother.”

  “Perhaps she was.”

  Rudley regarded his brother scornfully. “Katherine is not the forthright person we believed her to be. Do you know she kept a list of husband candidates when she first came to London? We were both on it.”

  “What?”

  “Truly. Although she told me she generously struck you off when she suspected you fancied Miss Harrington. She told me at the time that she needed to establish herself in order to make a home for her sister. As it turns out, she and her sister had a perfectly good home with their stepfather.”

  “Then why was she so determined to marry?”

  “She is in love with Parnaby, but he needed to marry a fortune. By marrying me she could safely be with him whenever the opportunity presented itself. She won’t be the first woman who married one man in order to safely carry on an affaire with another. I can tell you something else that will surprise you. Katherine was considering an offer from Lord Witford.”

  “Witford!”

  “My exact sentiments when I heard. Fool that I was, I played right into her hands by making an offer ten times as good as Witford’s. There is no way she would have refused me, yet she feigned reticence. I remember sitting up half the night, pondering just how to word my proposal in order to gain her acceptance.’’ He finished his brandy, then turned the empty glass between his fingers. “These past weeks, Oliver, I was convinced her love was equal to mine. But I realize now that she has never admitted loving me. Never said the words. Not even once.”

  As Oliver sank into a chair, Rudley sat, too. “My God,” he said, “why did I ever sway from my resolve? I had sworn I would never again allow a woman any power over me, but I did. Why? Why did I do it?”

  “Because you loved her. Running away does not help the situation, Ned.”

  “Nothing helps,” Rudley returned.

  There was a pause before Oliver asked, “Could the child be yours?”

  “Yes. But it could also be Parnaby’s.”

  “Did Katherine admit to intimacy with him?”

  “No, but I did not expect her to. When her stepfather accused her, she denied nothing.”

  “He said such things in your presence?”

  “No. I overheard a conversation between them.”

  ‘‘Did you ask her yourself about her relationship with Parnaby?’’

  “Yes. She answered my question with silence.”

  ‘‘Perhaps you hurt her simply by asking it. If she has been a faithful wife, Ned, such a question would be cruel.”

  As Rudley reached for the brandy decanter once again, Oliver shoved it out of his reach. “Is this your solution?” he asked angrily. “To sit here and drink yourself into a stupor? You should go home and stay there until you have heard every word Katherine has to say.”

  “I have heard enough. I will not go back. God help us all if this child should be a boy! It is too much to hope for another girl; not even I can expect such luck two times running.”

  Rudley’s face was grim, and Oliver could see that three days and nights of dismal reflections had taken their toll both physically and mentally. If he continued much longer in this state, he was likely to make himself truly ill. Oliver strove for a lighter tone. “Enough of this incarceration of yours,” he said. “I am famished. We are going upstairs where you will shave and change and then we are going to dine at Watier’s.”

  To Oliver’s surprise, Rudley raised no objection to this proposal and even made a fairly decent meal. Sharing his problem with his brother had seemed to lighten his burden. When they returned home soon after dinner, he went willingly to his bed and slept soundly until morning.

  At breakfast Rudley announced his plans to post immediately into Yorkshire, where he had extensive property. “Kendall has been plaguing me for years to look into my holdings there. From what I understand, considerable work needs to be done, and I would like to keep myself occupied.”

  “What of Katherine?” Oliver asked.

  “She must do without me. I cannot go back, not now.”

  “The Brents are back in town. That is why I thought you were here—to take Miss Stillwell home with you.”

  Rudley sighed. “I had forgotten. Could you take her down?”

  “Certainly. Would you object to my taking Charity Harrington as well?”

  Rudley considered the suggestion. “Katherine spoke of having her come. It would certainly make my absence appear more natural. Why are we always plotting ways, dear brother, to keep our family wounds from bleeding in public? Surely. Take Miss Harrington if she will go, and fob the world off with the tale that I am detained by business in the
north. If you would stay at Rudley Court yourself, you could do me a great service by helping Kendall to carry on the work we have started. There will be dozens of decisions to be made. I would be easier in my mind if I knew you were there to keep all running smoothly.”

  “If Katherine is agreeable, I am convinced Miss Harrington’s parents will have no objection to her bearing her friend company, especially if they know you are to be absent for some time. You must write the letter though, Ned. To Katherine. I could not invite myself, nor Miss Harrington.”

  Accordingly, Rudley composed a brief missive and sent it off immediately. He had no plans, however, to wait for a reply. Within a very short space of time he had completed all the arrangements for his trip north and was well on his way when his letter arrived at Rudley Court.

  Katherine,

  Oliver will be arriving shortly from the city to oversee the management of Rudley Court in my absence. He will be escorting your sister and has expressed his willingness to bring Miss Harrington should both you and she wish it. Please inform him as soon as possible of your decision. He will await your answer in London. I have enclosed a letter for Kendall, and you will oblige me by seeing that he receives it.

  Rudley

  Katherine had broken the seal of this letter with trembling hands, but its contents did nothing to lift her depression. She, like Rudley, had passed through days of emotional turmoil following his sudden departure. Again and again she had relived the horrible scene in her bedchamber. She could still see the anger, the pain in his eyes. She had never imagined that keeping her secret about Sir Humphrey would ever escalate into a disaster of such magnitude. One moment her life had been nearly perfect, then Sir Humphrey’s visit had brought everything crashing down about her head.

  At first she had been shocked to think Rudley would suspect her of infidelity, but after she had time to view it from his perspective, she understood how he could doubt her. She should have told him about Sir Humphrey. She should have refused to ride with James, or at the very least told Ned about their meeting the moment she returned home. She should have denied Sir Humphrey’s accusations instead of retreating into angry silence.