He paused at the hall table where a pile of letters lay. Several were for Katherine. One he knew was from her sister—he recognized the handwriting—from the Lincoln boarding school; another was almost certainly from Charity Harrington, who corresponded regularly with Katherine. Also on the table was a letter for the outgoing post. It was addressed in Katherine’s hand to a Sir Humphrey Corey, also of Lincolnshire. Assuming Katherine had left it there for him to frank, he uncovered the ink, selected a quill, and scribbled his name across the corner of the folded sheet. Then, taking his own letters with him, he went upstairs to change.
Later that evening during dinner he thought of the letters again. “You had a wealth of correspondence today,” he said.
“Yes, I did,” Katherine replied. “Actually, I need to talk to you about something. Lady Brent wrote last week to say that she is taking Marie to Bath for part of the summer and she offered to take Serena, too. There will be parties and informal dances, picnics, and so forth. Her ladyship thought Serena might enjoy it.”
“I think it sounds like an excellent idea if Serena wishes it. When do they go?”
“They plan to leave in ten days’ time.”
“I thought you said Serena did not finish school until the thirtieth.”
“I do not see why she could not leave a few days early.”
‘‘How would you like her to travel? Shall I send a coach?’’
“Actually, I was hoping to go myself.”
“Yourself?”
“I thought I could leave the day after tomorrow, spend several days with Charity and her parents, then travel back to London with Serena and leave her in Lady Brent’s capable hands. I am almost certain Serena will wish to go to Bath. She has never had such an opportunity before.”
“Are you sure you wish to undertake such a journey?”
“If Serena is to go with Lady Brent, I should like to see her first. I have not been with her since just after Christmas. And Charity has been my closest friend for years.”
“I’m sorry. I am being selfish, am I not?” he asked. “I cannot expect you to desert your family and friends for me. I will order the coach for early Monday morning. You will take Bess, of course, and Henderson, and Kendall.”
“I cannot take your secretary with me,” she objected. “Not when you are so busy here.”
“With you gone I will have nothing but time,” he replied. “I can do his work as well as mine. You must take him. He will arrange accommodations, see to any problems that may arise, and keep impertinent persons at a distance.”
She smiled at the image this created. “You insist upon protecting me as if I were a rare piece of china. I am not.”
He reached to cover her hand where it lay on the linen tablecloth. “You are to me. Rare—and precious.”
She had feared that Rudley would offer to accompany her, so she had included the visit to Charity, feeling relatively certain that he would not wish to intrude on such a reunion.
Now that he had acquiesced so readily, Katherine felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She would go north alone; she would confront Sir Humphrey, this time from a position of strength; she would rid her life of him once and for all.
This thought did much to lift her spirits. She returned the pressure of her husband’s hand before withdrawing her own to lift her crystal wineglass, which had just been refilled by a hovering footman.
“Who is Sir Humphrey Corey?” Rudley asked, serving himself from a dish of braised fowl.
Katherine’s delicate glass, held daintily between thumb and fingers, suddenly parted company with her hand. It fell directly onto a plate below, shattering into dozens of slivers and spewing red liquid over the white cloth and onto Katherine’s dress. She jumped up, brushing the wine from her gown as a footman hurried to wipe up the spill.
“I am . . . so . . . sorry,” Katherine sputtered. “How clumsy of me.”
Rudley, too, was instantly on his feet.
“I am afraid I have broken your beautiful crystal and spoiled this dress,” she said. The front of her pale yellow gown was liberally splattered with wine stains. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I should like to change.’’
“Yes, of course.”
As Katherine turned to leave the room, she paused and asked, “Would you mind very much if I retired for the night? I had a long day and I am weary.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Rudley answered. “I also had a tiring day.”
After Katherine had bid him good night and left the room, Rudley reseated himself at the table. When one of the footmen began to collect the shattered crystal from the tablecloth, he said, “Leave it. Bring me the brandy decanter.”
For some time afterward he remained at the dining table, contemplating the brandy in his glass and the shattered wreckage of his wife’s wineglass.
* * * *
Once in her own room Katherine rang for Bess. While she waited, she struggled out of the spoiled dress as best she could on her own. She found that her hands were trembling as she fumbled with the buttons.
She did not know how it was possible, but Rudley must have somehow seen the letter she had written today to Sir Humphrey.
When Bess appeared, Katherine asked peremptorily. “Did you post the letter I gave you earlier, Bess?”
“I took it down straightaway when you had finished, m’lady, but the post from the village was early today. I left it on the table so Jim could take it tomorrow. Is there a problem?”
“No. I had thought it would go today, that is all.”
“I can have one of the footmen take it to the receiving office now if you like, m’lady.”
“That won’t be necessary, Bess. Tomorrow will be fine.”
As Bess left to take the dress to the laundry to deal with the stain before it set, Katherine chided herself for her carelessness. She should have taken the letter to the village herself. What a fool she had been to react so violently when Rudley mentioned Sir Humphrey’s name. What must he think? Yet if she had not dropped the glass, what would she have said to her husband? How would she have answered his question? Could she have lied to him? Would she have been forced to tell him the whole truth at last?
Katherine slipped her nightgown over her head and tied the delicate ribbons at the neck. She had escaped the earl’s question for tonight, but what would she say if he required an answer tomorrow?
She spent a restless night. The following morning she ordered breakfast in her room, then busied herself in writing to Serena, Charity, and Lady Brent. With her letters finished she supervised the packing for her trip. When she casually asked Bess if she knew what his lordship’s plans for the day were, Bess replied that Lord Rudley had gone out with Mr. Kendall directly after breakfast.
“I expect with Mr. Kendall accompanying us, m’lady, they have many things to discuss before we leave.”
“I am sure you are right. What about shoes? Should I take these half boots or not?”
Katherine worried all day about dinner. She saw no way to avoid meeting her husband then and knew not what she would say if he repeated his question about Sir Humphrey. When she stopped in the late afternoon to say good-bye to Pamela, the child was unhappy to hear that Katherine was planning a trip.
Pamela’s distress prompted Katherine to offer, “Why do not you and Miss Shaw come downstairs and join me and your father for dinner tonight? You have never done so. We would both enjoy your company.’’
Pamela accepted readily, flattered to be treated in so grown-up a fashion, and Katherine realized she had probably solved her problem with Rudley. He would be unlikely to mention her letter at dinner with both his daughter and her governess present.
When the four gathered in the drawing room before dinner, Rudley welcomed Pamela and Miss Shaw genially. Although Katherine watched closely, she could detect no sign of annoyance in him. His manners throughout the meal were warm and gracious, even though the same emotional distance persisted between him and his daughter.
After the dessert had been served, Miss Shaw asked for permission to retire, taking her young charge with her. Katherine rose at the same time. “If you will excuse me, my lord, I believe I shall withdraw as well. Mr. Kendall informs me that we leave at dawn.”
Rudley stood at the head of the table while all three ladies exited, then resumed his seat and motioned for a footman to pour his port.
Assuring herself that all was in order for the morning, Katherine was soon ready for bed. Into her small case she packed her writing implements and the journal in which she had written her list of husband candidates while she was in London. After she had accepted the earl, she continued to use the blank pages as a diary to record the events leading up to her marriage and her personal reflections during the weeks that had passed. Closing the case, she buckled it securely, then set it near the doorway before returning to sit on the edge of her bed. She was reaching to snuff out her candle when the passageway door opened and Rudley entered.
“I saw Bess in the hallway,” he said. “She said you were ready for bed.”
“Indeed I am. Was there something you wanted?”
“I am sorry to have to tell you this, Katherine, but your diversionary plan for dinner will not save you from an interview with me. I know you have been avoiding me and I suspect it is because you would rather not tell me who Sir Humphrey Corey is.”
Katherine started to speak, but he held up a hand to stop her. “No, please let me finish. I know you did not live the first twenty-four years of your life in a vacuum and that you must have ties in Lincolnshire.
My
past, I am certain, will also intrude upon us from time to time.”
He took her hands and drew her to her feet, holding her fingers clasped between his own. “For now, while our alliance is so new, I will respect your reticence. But someday, when our marriage is whole, I will not allow any holding back. There will be no secrets, no shame, no past to put to rest, no phantoms to cast their shadows over the future.”
As his arms slid around her waist, she came unresistingly to rest against him as he continued, his words hypnotically tender. “We have not been married long, and I know that trust is not built overnight, but I hope you know you can trust me, for I have pledged to protect you until I die.”
He kissed her then, a warm, melting kiss that left her breathless and caused her knees to tremble. When he released her, she sat down abruptly on the bed as he turned away and retraced his steps to the door.
“Good night, Katherine. Sleep well.”
Katherine blew out her candle and crawled under the quilts, but it was a long time before she slept.
* * * *
The following morning at dawn two coaches rolled away from Rudley Court, headed north. Mr. Kendall rode in the first with Katherine and her maid, while the baggage coach followed.
Rudley had joined his wife for breakfast in the predawn darkness and then walked with her to the coach waiting in the drive.
“Ned,” she said, as they had descended the steps together. “I want you to know I appreciate all you said last night.”
“Godspeed, Katherine. And hurry home. I will miss you. If you should discover that Serena cares not for the Bath scheme, bring her back with you. She will be most welcome here.”
He took her hand, lightly brushing it with his lips before he helped her into the coach. Then he stood on the drive and watched until both vehicles disappeared from sight, wondering if he had been wise after all. Perhaps he should have followed his first instinct, which was to demand she tell him all there was to know about Sir Humphrey Corey.
During the two days it took Katherine to travel to Harrington Manor in Lincolnshire, she had ample opportunity to understand why Rudley held his secretary in such high esteem. The smallest detail of Katherine’s journey had been attended to with the greatest care. Nothing had been left to chance.
At each stop the change of horses was accomplished swiftly, but the women were nevertheless invited to step down either to exercise their limbs or to avail themselves of the facilities offered at the coaching inns. Wherever they were scheduled to dine, instructions had been sent ahead to reserve a private parlor and a tasty meal. The best available rooms were bespoken for overnight accommodations.
The hours in the coach passed pleasantly also, for Mr. Kendall could converse intelligently on many subjects. When Katherine asked how he had come to work for Lord Rudley, Kendall told her he had been recommended by his father, who was the village rector. He had held his position for five years; he was now twenty-six years of age.
Although Katherine had laughed at Rudley’s suggestion that Kendall be her shield against importunate persons, she discovered this to be his duty on more than one occasion. When an inn yard was crowded with men (as one was in a town where a prizefight was being held), he escorted her expertly through the throng, then attended her in the private parlor throughout her dinner, lest any drunken reveler enter her door by mischance. At the inn where they were to spend the night, he escorted Katherine and Bess to their room and then waited outside until he heard the bolt slide safely home.
Remembering dusty trips with Sir Humphrey—with few stops and the reward of a flea-infested bed at the end of a long day—Katherine decided she could easily be spoiled by such treatment.
When they arrived at Harrington Manor precisely on schedule, Katherine was not in the least surprised. “I must thank you, Mr. Kendall, for quite the most pleasant journey I have ever taken.”
He bowed slightly as he acknowledged the compliment. “You are very kind, Lady Rudley. I am pleased to know you were comfortable.”
When urged to accept Lord Harrington’s hospitality, Mr. Kendall declined, saying that he had been instructed to reserve lodgings for himself, the coachmen, and the footmen at the George Inn. They would be content there, he insisted, for as long as her ladyship desired to remain with her friends.
When all of Katherine’s baggage had been unloaded, Mr. Kendall rose from the seat he had taken when Lady Harrington insisted he join them for tea. Katherine walked with him to the front door, where she said, “I have spent two entire days in your company, sir, and I do not even know your given name.”