This communication so startled the earl that he missed his step. “The devil he has!”
“Indeed he has, my lord,” she insisted, “and for the second time in four days!”
His frown intensified as he asked, “And have you accepted him?” The dance was ending, and now it was Rudley’s turn to draw Katherine away. As they moved away from the crowded rooms, he led her down a narrow passageway and a flight of stairs toward the conservatory. As the crowd around them thinned, he repeated his question impatiently. “Have you accepted him?”
“No, my lord, I have not,” she replied testily.
“Will you?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps. At first I did not believe him to be sincere, although he assures me that he is. He is also most persistent.”
“I believe I know why,” the earl replied. “Witford has buried two wives already and has no sons. No doubt he has perused the eligible young ladies and chosen you as the best brood mare of the lot.”
This comment stopped Katherine in her tracks, and she turned disbelieving, angry eyes to him. “You are insulting, my lord,” she said.
“I am truthful, Katherine,” he replied, using her Christian name, “and
that
I thought you, of all people, would appreciate. How can you even consider an alliance with a notorious womanizer, a man old enough to be your father? You cannot possibly think to find happiness there!”
“My happiness is not the issue here, my lord,” she replied tartly. “Rather, it is my opportunity to have position and independence, to be able to provide a proper home for my sister. I would be foolish indeed if I did not at least consider such a chance to establish myself. Ask any of your friends here tonight,” she challenged. “You will not find one in ten who would not think me fortunate to receive such an offer.”
“I daresay you are right,” he agreed ruefully. “But I did not think you the person to accept a man like Witford only because society in general would approve it.”
“Nor did I ever think to do so,” she agreed, “but I am beginning to change my mind.”
“Why?” They had been walking slowly through the narrow aisles of the conservatory. The air was humid and heavy with the combined odor of fragrant blossoms and warm earth.
“I am learning, my lord, that people in society are more realistic than I, and that if I intend to make my way in this world I must learn to accept the facts of life.’’
“Which are?”
“Which are, that if a woman wishes to find security, she had best put aside all notions of love, destiny, and other such nonsense and make the best bargain she can with whatever assets she has at her disposal.”
“Sell yourself to the highest bidder, in fact?”
She met his eyes defiantly. “Yes. Why not? If I cannot have the life of my dreams, I can at least have the security that wealth and position offer.’’ As she finished speaking she dropped her eyes to the handkerchief she had been ruthlessly twisting between her hands. A long silence followed.
Finally Rudley put his hand beneath her chin and lifted her face until her eyes met his once again. He spoke gently. “I cannot bear to think of you wed to Witford. You are much too young to do such a desperate thing.”
She trembled at his touch but managed to answer him quite steadily. “I am four and twenty, my lord.”
An indulgent smile crossed his face. “You are a babe,” he insisted. “You deserve a chance to have at least some of your dreams come true.”
Confused by the tenderness in his voice, she turned away and without speaking again they retraced their steps to the ballroom.
* * * *
Nothing is so detrimental to a good night’s sleep as a mind that will not be quiet. Katherine lay awake long into the night, her eyes open, staring into the blackness above her, pondering questions that had no answers. More now than at any other time in her life she wished for a confidant, someone who could share her burden. She was stuck with one set of thoughts and feelings—her own—and by themselves they had no depth. She had decisions to make that would affect her future, and she found herself incapable of making them. The weight was too heavy, the answers obscure.
Katherine believed those things she had said to Rudley: that Lord Witford’s offer was a flattering one, and that she should take what she could get in terms of security for her future and Serena’s. Yet she was not ready to give up her dreams. She did not wish to marry Witford, but she was determined to end her dependency on her stepfather. The earl was right in saying that Lord Witford was no bargain, but then neither was she. She was not well-connected; she had no particular beauty; her income was modest.
The knowledge that she was not likely to receive a better offer had kept Katherine from refusing Witford. But neither had she accepted him. He was becoming impatient, pressuring her for an answer, while she was confused, weighing her options and finding no easy road.
When Rudley had taken her face in his hand and called her a babe, she had denied it, yet that was exactly how she felt. She wanted more than anything to cry like a child, admit that she was confused and alone, and beg him to tell her what she should do. But she had not been able to admit it, and she could not ask for his help. She had to keep her fears and misgivings about the future to herself, just as she had to bear the pain of James’s rejection, just as she had kept inside, all these years, the anger she felt when her father had died and her mother soon followed him, leaving her alone.
The following morning Katherine was seated before her dressing table in a close-fitting riding habit of forest green when Charity poked her head in the door. “I saw you disappear with Lord Rudley last night, Katy. Where did you go?”
“He showed me the duke’s conservatory,” Katherine answered. “It was lovely. There were many blooms, marvelous colors. I am surprised you noticed us though,” she teased. “You seem to have eyes only for Mr. Seaton.”
“I do admire him a great deal,” Charity admitted, “but I am not letting myself hope for too much.”
There was so much sadness in her voice that Katherine asked, “Can it be that you have fallen in love at last? I could not be more happy for you!”
“It may be too soon for joy, Katy. Marie says Mr. Seaton was devoted to his first wife. I do not think he is particularly eager to marry again.”
“Then you must see to it that you change his mind,” Katherine persisted. “How wonderful it would be if you could marry the man you love! I do not know anyone who ever did that. Even my own parents’ marriage was arranged, though my mother admitted that she fell in love with my father afterward.’’
“Well, whatever the future holds,” Charity said practically, “Mr. Seaton and I enjoy being friends. I cannot wait to see the expression on Papa’s face when he sees that I am riding. I have not written to him about it. I intend to surprise him with a demonstration.”
As they left the room together, Katherine remembered her conversation with Rudley the previous evening and considered that it might be uncomfortable to meet him this morning. But then, she reasoned, it was quite likely he would not ride with them today.
She was not prepared, therefore, when she and Charity descended the steps some moments later, to find that Oliver Seaton was indeed accompanied by his brother. Oliver was, as usual, at Charity’s stirrup, so Katherine accepted Rudley’s assistance in mounting. They rode through the streets in silence and entered Hyde Park by the Stanhope Gate. There were seldom many people about during these early-morning rides, for late afternoon was the fashionable time to be seen there. Most of the riders taking exercise at this hour were men, either alone or in pairs.
The silence between them was becoming oppressive when the earl finally broke it. “I would like to apologize for my behavior last night,” he began. “I should not presume to tell you how to conduct yourself. It is, after all, none of my affair. I was merely surprised to learn that you are so eager to marry.’’
“I am not particularly
eager,
my lord, but the offer is tempting. I believe I am not unlike most women in wanting a husband, a home, and children. I am no longer a young girl. I cannot expect such opportunities to last forever. I am only here for the Season because the Brents were kind enough to invite me.”
“Are you still considering Witford’s offer?”
“Yes, my lord, I am.”
“Will you then be pleased to consider mine as well?’’
“
Yours,
my lord?”
“I would deem it a great honor, Katherine, if you would consent to become my wife.”
Nothing he could have said would have shocked her more. She turned to stare at him in utter astonishment and then struggled to find her voice. “You wish to marry
me,
my lord? I can believe you might wish to marry again, but I understood that Lady Milicent Battle was your choice for a bride.’’
“Indeed? What makes you think that?”
“I have heard several people speak of it.”
“Saying precisely what?”
“The usual things: that you make a handsome couple, that you are well suited both in rank and fortune.”
“And what do you think, Katherine? Do you think Lady Milicent and I are well suited?”
“I do not know her well, but yes, I suppose I do.”
“So, as a friend, you would advise me to offer for her?”
“If you wish to marry again, yes, I suppose I would.”
“I am sorry to hear that my happiness is not important to you.”
“What?” she asked, startled.
“You know as well as I do that Lady Milicent would make me the worst possible wife,” he replied bluntly. “She talks incessantly of herself and has more pride than an entire regiment of Hussars.”
“Well, if not Lady Milicent,” Katherine persisted, “then some other young lady. There must be any number of them, most more attractive than I, some with fortune or rank to match your own.”
“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.”