With the candelabrum in his hand, Rudley moved to stand before the old globe of the world. How well he remembered spinning it when his tutor was absent from the room. He and Oliver had always preferred games to geography. Their youngest brother John was the bookish one, always telling them to apply themselves. How long ago it seemed.
He stepped around the globe to the table where they had partaken of their afternoon tea; it was being used now as a drawing desk. Sketched on a paper was a rough outline of the stable-yard. Beyond the table, carefully pinned to a board, was a finished drawing of the main stable and its attached yard. It was minutely detailed, each brick of the building faithfully diagramed, not suggested. The perspective was excellent, the shadows fixing the time of day at midmorning. In one corner a young lad held a lady’s horse while she mounted from the block. In the foreground several grooms harnessed a team to a curricle, while in the background any number of stable boys hurried about mucking out stalls. Some pitched fresh bedding and hay while others carried heavy buckets of water. Rudley noted that one bucket had even spilled over, making a wet spot on the bricks.
“Pamela did this?” he asked without turning his head.
“Yes,” Katherine returned. “They are all hers.” She watched in silence as he moved from one work to another.
He made no comment until he came to the winter scene of the house and lake. “This is done from the same perspective as my mother’s chair in the drawing room.” He stood for long minutes before the portrait of himself but said nothing. When he had seen them all, he moved back to the table where Katherine stood. “She wants for discipline and technique, but the most important part, the instinctive talent, is there. How long has she been doing work like this?”
“Miss Shaw says she began to make copies of things she saw when she was barely six, but most of these she has done during the past year. You do think she is good then?”
“She has a God-given gift, and there is no question but that it should be nurtured. I will hire a special tutor as you suggest. I am certain she could benefit from further instruction.” He moved back to the far wall, once again studying the portrait of himself. “You must find it disgraceful that I know so little about those things that most closely concern Pamela.”
“It is not what I am accustomed to. I was very close to my parents.”
“And I to mine,’’ he returned. “But it is not the same with Pamela. I have never felt any bond . . .”
“Because she reminds you of her mother.”
“Partly. She . . .” He paused, then seemed unwilling to continue.
After a few moments she said, “You need not tell me. I do not wish to anger you by interfering.”
He moved back toward her, placing his candles on the table nearby. “You are a part of the family now, Katherine. Any concerns you have cannot be considered interference. One of the many things I love about you is your perceptiveness. I would be a fool indeed if I did not allow you to exercise it. Besides, I am not easily angered, as you may have noticed.”
“Yes, I have noticed,” she answered, “and you have spoiled a very pretty compliment by mentioning it.”
They stood close, and as she smiled at him in the candlelight, he brought his hands up to hold her arms above the elbows. His face was stern and her own smile faded. “Katherine, I hope you will be patient with me. I have not been in the habit of noticing how people feel or caring what they think. Arabella gave me a distaste for wanting to know people that way. I have found it much simpler, and a lot less painful, to avoid such involvement.”
“I think you are too hard on yourself,” she argued. “You have been very sensitive with me.”
“Perhaps. But then I am convinced you bring out the best in me. Thank you for bringing me here tonight. I have been at fault where Pamela is concerned. I will try to make amends, if it is not too late.”
“I am sure it is not.” She raised herself on tiptoe and kissed him impulsively on the mouth, a shy smile skimming over her face. She was so quick that he had no time to respond, and when his hands tightened on her arms, she turned away. He released her, his eyes following her as she moved about the room extinguishing the candles. He glanced once again at the intricate stable-yard charcoal before lifting the candelabrum from the table. “I would like to see all these again with the benefit of daylight.’’
Katherine was pleased. “Come anytime. I know Pamela will be delighted to show them.”
* * * *
The following day Rudley had planned an expedition to a fine thoroughbred stud. It was a two-hour drive, and since the morning was sunny with only a light breeze, he suggested that they travel in his curricle.
The sights and sounds of spring were everywhere, from the greening of the trees and the pink and white of the dog roses and honeysuckle, to the tiny cry of a newborn lamb separated from its mother. Katherine felt wonderful. She could never remember being happier or more at peace.
They made excellent time, arriving at Lord Gilborough’s estate far sooner than Katherine expected they would. Rudley turned his team onto a long winding drive bordered on both sides by fenced pasture. A short distance ahead she could see a group of mares and suckling foals. As they came closer, the earl drew his team to a walk and then a standstill. He pointed to one particular mare.
“Do you see the bay on the left, the one with no markings? She is Karma’s dam. I have been trying to buy her from Gilborough for years, but he will not part with her. Every one of her race-bred foals has been a winner, and even Karma, who was bred for hunting, has plenty of speed.”
Katherine looked the mare over appreciatively. “What is she called?”
“Her name is Thistledown,” the earl replied, “but they call her Lady Halfmile. When she was a three year old, there was not another filly, or even a colt for that matter, that could touch her speed at the half-mile.”
“Do you remember asking me the other day what I should like for a wedding present,” Katherine asked, “even though I told you I consider Karma a more than generous gift?”
“I bought Karma from Marcus because I knew how much you fancied her,” he said. “I have a stable full of horses equally good. I want your wedding gift to be something special, unique.”
“I think I have found the present I should like,” she said, never taking her eyes from the stunning mare.
“Oh, no, you don’t, Katherine. Never say you want Lady Halfmile. I have just told you that Gilborough will not sell her.”
“But, my lord!” she exclaimed in shocked tones. “As I recall your offer, you said you would give me anything I desired, so long as it was within your means. Are you telling me you cannot afford the mare?”
“You are a wicked woman, Katherine. If you continue to take literally every word I speak, I will make good my threat to beat you. And you may believe me when I say I shall enjoy it!”
They were still laughing as they pulled up in front of Lord Gilborough’s home, and they remained in high spirits throughout the day. After a delicious luncheon, they enjoyed a tour of the entire stud. They viewed stall after stall and pastures full of magnificent thoroughbreds.
When it came time to leave and Rudley was saying his farewells to Lady Gilborough, Lord Gilborough approached Katherine. He congratulated her once again on her marriage and handed her a small sealed note. “Lady Rudley, would you be so kind as to give this to your husband
after
you have arrived home? It is something he can do for me, if he would.”
“Certainly, my lord, I shall be happy to.” She took the note curiously and tucked it safely away in her reticule. They drove home in a leisurely fashion, arriving in good time for dinner and declaring themselves very satisfied with the day’s adventure.
Rudley found a letter from Oliver awaiting him. After dinner that evening he informed Katherine and Pamela that young Master Nicholas was coming home the next day—a prospect that delighted Pamela. Nicholas, turned six, was somewhat younger than she, but Katherine had gathered from conversations with Pamela that the two often shared adventures together. This was not surprising, considering how children were naturally drawn to one another. Katherine could remember how often as a child she had wished for companions near her own age. After Pamela retired, Katherine asked her husband how Nicholas came to be living at Rudley Court.
“When Oliver and Lydia married, they took a house in Kensington,” Rudley answered. “They had only two short years together. When she was so cruelly taken from him, he had no desire to stay on there. He sold the house after he and I decided to leave for Spain. That was when Nicholas came to live here.”
“What is Nicholas like?”
“Do you remember the portrait of Lydia I showed you in the gallery?” Katherine nodded. “The boy is the living image of his mother. Even as a baby he had curly fair hair, as she did, and the same round face. Every year as he grows older he resembles her more closely.”
“Does it trouble Oliver that Nicholas looks so like his mother?”
“I do not believe so. They are very close.”
“But I thought Oliver seldom saw his son.”
“On the contrary. They spend a great deal of time together. They have been together these past weeks in Sussex with Lydia’s parents, and Oliver often comes here to see Nicholas. Lately, I suspect he has been thinking of marrying again, in which case Nick would go permanently to live with him.”
“Did he say which lady has captured his interest?” Katherine asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
“I think it is plain to anyone with eyes to see that it is your friend Miss Harrington whom he admires.” It was now Rudley’s turn to go fishing for information. “Do you think she would welcome his suit?”
“I believe she would,” Katherine said. “I know she admires him.”
“That pleases me. I believe a relationship prospers best when there is mutual affection.’’
Then, in a sudden change of subject, he said, “It grows late. Please allow me to escort you upstairs. It has been a long day, and you must be well rested for your first meeting with young Nick.”
“Heavens, my lord, you fill me with terror! Is he such a firebrand?’’
“I must admit I find the activities of a normal six year old fatiguing in the extreme, but I have not the slightest doubt that you, dear Katherine, will find his antics very much to your liking.”
He left her at her door, and with her maid’s help she was soon ready for bed.
“Shall I blow out the candles, m’ lady?”
“No, Bess, please leave them. I think I shall read for a bit, but you may go.”
As the door closed quietly behind the maid, Katherine settled comfortably to enjoy a few pages of the novel she was reading. After a few minutes she discovered she could not concentrate. She was pleased to discover that Oliver was close to his son but was puzzled as to why Rudley spoke of Oliver’s son with more warmth than he spared for his own daughter.
Katherine awoke with a start. The candle at her bedside was guttering, and she realized she had fallen asleep. She rose from her bed to extinguish the other candles in the room and saw that the clock on the mantel showed a quarter to midnight. She must have been more tired by the day’s drive than she suspected.
Thinking of Lord Gilborough’s lovely horses, she suddenly remembered the note he had given her for Ned. She had forgotten to give it to him. She took it from her reticule on the dressing table, wondering what best to do with it. “I will give it to him first thing in the morning,” she told herself aloud. Then she reconsidered. “But Lord Gilborough did ask me to give it to him tonight.”
She turned decisively toward the communicating door, thinking that her husband might still be awake. She passed through the dressing room connecting Rudley’s bedchamber with her own and saw light showing beneath his door. She knocked quietly, and when there was no reply, she knocked more loudly. Still there was no answer. Turning the handle, she found the door unlocked. She entered the room to find several candles lit and the fire still burning. There was, however, no sign of the earl. The bed had not been disturbed, and it was quite obvious that he was not in the room.
Katherine looked about with interest, for she had never been in the room before. She stepped inside, moving toward the warmth of the fire. The bank of windows to her right was shrouded by crimson velvet. Directly before them sat an ornate low-profile writing desk. Clearly her husband enjoyed a view of the lake while occupied with his correspondence. Against the far wall a massive bed, also hung in crimson, displayed an intricately embroidered counterpane. Several framed paintings, indistinguishable in the shadows, adorned the dark-paneled walls. Katherine’s feet sank into a plush Axminster carpet worked in an intricate floral pattern of blues and reds. Even as she was appreciating the softness of the carpet and realizing she had come away without her slippers, the hallway door opened and Rudley entered.
“Katherine!” His voice exhibited pleased surprise when he saw her standing there. “Did you want me? I decided I wanted some brandy and did not care to drag Wiggin from his bed, so I went to fetch some from the library.”
She held out the note to him. “This is for you. Lord Gilborough entrusted it to me this afternoon and asked me specifically to give it to you tonight, but I had forgotten it until now. I am glad I found you still awake.”
He seemed to notice how lightly she was clad, for he stepped to the bed where a loose quilt lay and carried it to a small couch set near the fire.
“Sit here, Katherine, and wrap yourself in this.” She traded him the note for the quilt and sat down as he suggested. She watched as he crossed to the candles on his desk, broke the seal, and unfolded the paper. He had discarded the coat and waistcoat he had worn earlier in the evening; he was in his shirtsleeves with his neckcloth removed and his shirt open at the throat. His hair was slightly ruffled as if he had absentmindedly run a hand through it. As Katherine watched him, the firelight full upon his face, she tried to guess the contents of the note by reading his expression.
Rudley,
You have stolen a march on us all by capturing the most sensible woman in all of England. I cannot imagine why she would have you, but, as they say, there was never any accounting for taste. For your lovely wife’s sake you may have Lady Halfmile at the figure you offered me last summer. You may collect her any time after her colt is weaned. No doubt when you race the foal she is now carrying and beat me, I will regret this generous impulse. I write this to you so that you may keep the mare as a surprise if you wish. Once more, my friend, you have my compliments on your marriage. May it be a long and joyful one.
Gilborough