In the Shadow of Arabella Page 7

  “You are quick to criticize yourself, Katherine. You do not then consider yourself a suitable bride for me?”

  “No, my lord, I do not!” she answered baldly. “I think it would be a very uneven match.”

  “You have frankly admitted yourself to be lacking in beauty, fortune, and rank,” he continued. “Are you willing to give an honest appraisal of your feelings for me as well?’’

  She answered unhesitatingly. “You surely know that I have a great regard for you, my lord. I consider you my friend, and I admire and respect you, but I am not in love with you.”

  These things were indeed true, although as Katherine answered she realized she had not been aware of how strong her attachment for Rudley had grown over the past weeks. She did enjoy his company, more than that of any other gentleman of her acquaintance. She never had to guard her tongue with him but could say exactly what she was thinking and be sure of a fair and sensible response. What had initially been admiration for his pleasing manner and address had become a preference for his company; from this companionship, trust and affection had quickly sprung. To say she was not in love with him was simply a matter of form. After weeks of brooding over James, she was more than willing to admit that any clear understanding of that emotion was beyond her comprehension.

  Charity and Oliver had trotted ahead, and the earl saw that they had stopped. He brought his horse to a standstill, and as Katherine did likewise, he turned to her.

  “Katherine, you know I was married before. Arabella was the daughter of a duke, endowed with a handsome marriage portion. She was young and beautiful, and we were in love. You have cited all these things as desirable in a marriage. My marriage had them all, yet it was not a success. You have said you respect me, that I am your friend. These things, unbelievably, were lacking in my marriage.” He paused briefly, then continued, “There is something I should like to tell you about myself before you make any decision concerning my offer. Could we walk for a space?’’

  “Yes, of course.” She tried to keep her voice casual, but the conversation was causing her mind to reel. One part of her brain warned her that she should instantly refuse his offer and decline to hear his confidences, yet another part was intrigued. She had not known that his marriage was troubled.

  He helped her to dismount and then led both horses as they walked on across the damp grass. Just ahead, Charity and Oliver were enjoying their privacy yet taking care to remain properly within sight of their companions.

  “What I am about to relate is extremely personal,” he began, “and something I have never spoken of to anyone save Oliver. I was eighteen when my father died and I succeeded to the title. I was only twenty-two when I met the Lady Arabella Holt. I fell head over heels. I had never seen such a lovely creature. She was beautiful, witty, and charming beyond belief. We were married as soon as arrangements could be made, but it was a disastrous mistake. Within a few months the marriage was over. The immediate family realized, of course, but for the rest of the world we made some attempt at normalcy.”

  Katherine knew she should not interrupt but found herself asking, “What happened?”

  He looked at her strangely, as though he had momentarily forgotten she was there. “We were totally unsuited. The passion between us soon died, and we found we had little in common. Our tastes in almost all things were dissimilar. We were not friends. We could not communicate, or share even the simplest feelings. And, perhaps most shocking of all, there was little honesty between us.

  “The first four years of my marriage were a prison sentence for me. I hated living a lie—a mockery of marriage—but there was no escape. Then, when Oliver’s wife Lydia died in 1811, we both joined the army in the Peninsula. We found plenty there to occupy us, but in the autumn of 1813 I was wounded and sent home. Oliver stayed on until the peace was signed the following spring.

  “It seemed that during my absence my wife had developed the habit of riding out to meet her lover. One day about six months after my return she was caught in a sudden storm and took cold. The congestion settled in her chest. Other complications led to a fever that the doctors could not break. She died three days later without ever once asking to see me or our daughter, Pamela. I will never forget the relief I felt when she was dead.”

  Katherine halted suddenly and turned to stare at him.

  “Yes.” He returned her look steadily. “Relief. I could not leave Rudley Court quickly enough. I came to town and have spent most of my time here since. I try not to dwell on the past, but, speaking of it now, I realize that time has done little to heal the pain.”

  As he paused to take a slow, deep breath, she could think of nothing to say. A short distance ahead Charity and Oliver had begun walking their horses again.

  Katherine knew he was waiting for a response and she began hesitantly. “My lord, I must beg you to understand that all this has come as a great shock to me. I never expected to receive an offer from Lord Witford, and now this from you …”

  “I know I have surprised you. I had not intended to speak so soon. I had hoped we could become better acquainted first. But when you said last night that you were considering Witford’s offer, I could wait no longer. Do you remember our conversation the first night we danced together?”

  “I remember it quite well, my lord.” She blushed, knowing her words that evening had been blatant disapproval of his life-style and that of many of his friends.

  “You said you found London society to be frivolous and pleasure-seeking.”

  “I was perhaps too critical, my lord.”

  “No. You were not. Your appraisal was accurate. And I, more than most, have been guilty of wasteful, decadent behavior. I made an unfortunate marriage, but it is time that I put it behind me. I have duties and responsibilities to my family and my tenants that have been too long left in the hands of others. Lately I have felt that I would like to live at my seat again. I would be pleased and proud if you would accompany me to Hampshire as my wife.”

  He stopped walking and, turning to face her, took one of her hands in his. “I am very fond of you, Katherine. We have mutual respect for each other rooted in a strong friendship. We have the beginnings of an honest relationship that cannot help but grow with time.” He smiled ruefully. “If you are seriously considering a marriage to Witford, you would have a much better bargain in me.’’

  Katherine smiled, too, for she had been thinking the same thing herself. “Your offer is tempting, sir.”

  “Then why do you hesitate?”

  “I like you too well, my lord, and I fear to be the cause of making you unhappy again if you find you have made a bad bargain.”

  He took her other hand and held them both together between his. “I have asked you to marry me, Katherine, because I feel that together we will be able to bring some meaning and purpose to our lives.”

  “Don’t you think that you should take more time to consider? You have not known me long … you know very little about me.”

  “It may surprise you to learn this,” he countered, “but I have given a great deal of consideration to this proposal. I feel that marriage should provide contentment and companionship. I want a wife who is intelligent and informed, industrious and diligent. You have all these qualities and many more admirable ones as well. As you have said, there are many women from whom I may choose, but I know my own mind, and I have chosen you.”

  She stood gazing up at him. His eyes were tender and sincere. His hands were warm, his clasp vital, and somehow, in that moment, she felt she could trust his instincts. Perhaps with him she could realize some of those earlier dreams she had cherished. She would have a handsome and attentive husband, a man reputed to be wealthier than she could even imagine. She did not love him, and yet, she reasoned, loving James had brought her no happiness. Perhaps the fondness she and the earl felt for each other would be enough.

  Even as she considered accepting him, her thoughts swung back the other way. She knew so little about him. What would his dau
ghter think about such a marriage? She was old enough to have an opinion. And others of his family—perhaps they would object. Finally, and most important, she knew she was not all she seemed to be. She was certain that Rudley would not want her if he knew she was in love with another man. He had told her plainly that there had been little honesty in his first marriage. She could not accept him with such deceit between them.

  “My lord,” she began quietly, “I cannot accept your flattering proposal.” Her hands broke from his and she extended one to take the reins he held.

  She looked up to meet his eyes as he asked, “Can you tell me why?’’

  “There is so much you do not know about me—”

  “I am not interested in history,” he interrupted.

  “But I am,” she insisted. “And there are other things, things I do not know about you and your family.”

  “When you have told me what you think I should know, and when you have learned what you would of me, then will you reconsider my offer?” he asked.

  “Perhaps.”

  “And will you promise not to accept Witford meanwhile?”

  “Yes, sir, I can safely promise that.”

  “Good. My brother and Miss Harrington are coming to join us, so I fear your questions must wait. If you are to be at the Martinsons’ this evening, perhaps we will find the time to continue this conversation.”

  When Katherine returned from her ride, she found a letter from her sister awaiting her. Its tone could only be described as frantic.

  Westleigh Academy

  Lincoln

  Dearest Katy,

  I am sending this to the address you gave me in London and hoping you will answer immediately, for I am in dire distress! Angela Longstreet has written me that she heard her father tell her mother that he overheard Archibald Postlethwaite boasting at the Red Lion that he had struck a deal with Sir Humphrey for my hand in marriage! I am praying that her ears deceived her or that Mr. Postlethwaite was in his cups, for if this should be the truth, I could not bear it! Can you confirm or deny this rumor? Of all the males of my acquaintance, Archibald Postlethwaite is the most odious. His teeth are rotten and his breath always reeks of garlic. He is also ancient beyond belief. What can Sir Humphrey be thinking? I would sooner die a thousand deaths than be wed to that revolting, repulsive, loathsome man. Please answer soon.

  Your loving sister, Rena

  Katherine realized that she should have guessed that some word of Sir Humphrey’s plans might reach Serena. They lived in a relatively small village where such an arrangement would be startling news. She answered her sister’s letter immediately.

  Brent House

  Berkeley Square

  London

  Dear Serena,

  I am sorry to say that the news Miss Longstreet conveyed to you is indeed genuine. Sir Humphrey and Archie Postlethwaite have come to some such agreement. But please, I beg you, do not let it concern you, for I promise (and you know I have never broken a promise to you) you will never marry Archie. When I wrote you last, I did not mention that I have plans to marry soon myself.

  Here Katherine hesitated, wishing she could truthfully say she was engaged to be wed. Instead she wrote:

  When I am established, I am convinced Sir Humphrey will relinquish your guardianship to me. If not, I am prepared, with my husband’s help, to seek it through legal means. There is, after all, no blood relation between you and Sir Humphrey. Please trust me to do as I say. I love you dearly and will take care of you always.

  Your devoted sister, Katherine

  *

  Chapter 7

  Some people have minds so quick that they have a retort at their command the moment their companion stops speaking. Others, no less intelligent, need more time to formulate a reply. Katherine belonged to the latter group. She liked to consider her words, at least for a few seconds, before she spoke. But even with an entire afternoon to consider how she would tell Lord Rudley about her stepfather and her involvement with Lord Parnaby, she had discovered no satisfactory approach. By the time she finished dressing for the evening, she realized she was no more prepared to speak with him than she had been that morning. She was determined to be honest about James, but although she practiced several ways to introduce the topic, she finally decided there was no graceful way to broach such a subject.

  Rudley greeted her soon after their party arrived at the Martinsons’ soiree. During their first dance together she asked him about his daughter.

  “Pamela is one of my responsibilities that I have left too long in the hands of others,” he said. “I admit I am not a good parent. I spent little time with the child while my wife was alive, and have spent even less since Arabella’s death. My sister misses no opportunity to inform me that Pamela needs a mother, but please do not think my offer puts any obligation upon you in that regard. Oliver’s son Nicholas also makes his home at Rudley Court, but both children are provided with worthy and capable persons to care for them. I would not have you think that if we wed, you will become a mother overnight, with all the duties and responsibilities of such a position.”

  “Would your daughter object to your marrying again? Do you think she would resent another woman taking her mother’s place?’’

  “I really could not say. I am not certain what sort of memories she has of her mother. In any case, I do not intend to allow a ten-year-old child to dictate my future.”

  This comment, along with others the earl had made about his daughter, led Katherine to suspect that all was not right in their relationship. Remembering vividly how her own world had crumbled at the age of thirteen, she sympathized with this child who had, like her, lost a parent. Katherine knew it was hard for some men to show the tenderer emotions, particularly to children. But in Rudley’s case she sensed there was something more than that. Did he resent Pamela because she was not the male heir every man wants, or did it have something to do with Pamela’s mother and his bitterness over his failed marriage?

  Katherine had little time to ponder these questions, for as the earl turned her in the waltz, her eyes alighted on Lord Parnaby standing not ten feet away.

  Katherine stumbled, and as Rudley’s arm tightened to steady her, she quickly apologized. But he had seen Parnaby and said easily, “It has become oppressively warm in here, Miss Stillwell. Perhaps a turn on the balcony?”

  Katherine followed his lead gratefully as he guided her out of the brightly lit room toward a deserted portion of the dim balcony. As the earl had suspected, Parnaby followed them almost immediately and was the first to speak. “Miss Stillwell, I must beg a word with you.”

  Rudley gazed at the frozen couple before him, from Katherine’s face, white with shock, to the viscount’s flushed handsome one. Only seconds passed, but it seemed longer before Rudley said, “Excuse me,” then turned and walked away.

  Parnaby stepped toward Katherine, leaving an arm’s length between them. “Katherine, I am so sorry. I know the news of my engagement must have been a shock. I wanted to tell you myself, but the marquess announced it without warning only minutes after all was settled between us.”

  His words piled up one after another, but they made no sense to Katherine. During the time that had passed since the announcement of his engagement, she had not taken the time to consider what she would say if she spoke to him. He gestured with his hands and her eyes were drawn to them. As she recalled how he had once held her, she grew angry.

  “I do not know why you feel it necessary to speak with me. Your actions have shown your wishes plainly.”

  “I have not done as I wished. I have done what I had to do to preserve my family name and my honor—”

  “Your honor! Only a few weeks ago you asked me to wait for you, while all along you were planning to ask another woman to be your wife.”

  “It did not happen that way. I had no intention of asking for her. It was her father’s idea. He offered huge settlements, enough to pay all my debts and restore my lands to the prosperity they
once enjoyed. It was the opportunity I had prayed for. You must understand why I had to accept it, why I had no choice.”

  “I do not see that you had no choice, only that your choice did not include me.”

  He took an impulsive step closer. “Katherine, I love you, that will never change—”

  “Please do not speak of love,” she interrupted in a bitter undertone. “You do not understand what love is. Whatever was between us, James, is over. Please do not come near me again.”

  He suddenly closed the space between them, taking her shoulders in his hands. She recoiled from his touch and moved quickly from the balcony into the house.

  Rudley had been watching for her and moved to her side. He noted her heightened color and her quickened breath as she said quietly, “I am not well, my lord. I must go home.”

  A few steps brought them to Lady Brent and Charity. “Miss Stillwell is feeling tired, ma’am,” he began, addressing Lady Brent.

  “With your permission, my lady,” Katherine added, “I should like to go home.”

  “Well, of course, my dear. My, my, you are looking quite flushed.”

  “But, Mama,” Marie objected, “we have only just arrived.”

  “Marie is right,” Katherine said. “There is no need for you to accompany me. I do not wish to spoil your evening.”

  “If you will permit me, Lady Brent,” Rudley said unexpectedly, “I would be more than happy to see Miss Stillwell home.”

  As Katherine opened her mouth to protest, Lady Brent accepted his lordship’s offer with a gracious smile. “So kind of you, my lord.”

  Charity looked her concern. “Shall I come with you?”

  “No, please. It is only the headache again.”

  “You are doing too much, my dear,” Lady Brent said, “staying out late each night, then riding at the crack of dawn. Have Cook mix you one of her draughts for the headache and go straight to bed. You will feel much more the thing in the morning.”