The Raven's Revenge (27 page)

“Nay, Nicky, I speak of yer wife, or have ye forgot ye married the lass.” Henry burped, and then graced Nicholas with a smile. “I ne’er did think I’d see ye married. But glad I am, as long as ye treat her good and kind. Mayhap this marriage will see ye settled down, no longer drifting from place to place. And I would not be surprised to see you with a wee babe in yer arms a nine-month from now.”

Nicholas scowled. “I do not forget I have a wife. But, she does not yet know she is Lady Ashton, and I do not care for your prodding me on’t.”

“Ye did say ye would tell her.”

“I did tell her once, to see how it would go.” At Henry’s puzzled look, he added, “I spoke while she slept. She did not mind that time. I think she will mind when I tell her again. But I must find the right moment.”

“The moment will be right when ye make it right. ’Tis like me tooth. The longer ye wait, the worse it will be.”

Nicholas nodded. What Henry said was true. Today he could shoulder his responsibilities and do the right thing by both of them. He would start with Henry’s tooth.

He ordered a full bottle of brandy and set it between them. Henry eyed the bottle, and then looked up at his old friend.

Nicholas sighed and poured Henry a slug of brandy. “You need not scowl at me so. Because of our marriage, Katherine’s lot is much improved. Now that she is wed, Finch should leave her alone.”

“How is he to know this? An’ d’ye think he will give up so easily? He was never a one to do that before. He’ll fight ye on’t, ye can be sure about that.”

“I shall write to her father tonight,” Nicholas said, uncomfortably remembering the last missive he’d sent the man. Henry did not know about that.

“What are yer plans?”

“Other than telling Katherine the truth, I have none,” Nicholas sighed. “Until then, we cannot go out safely for fear I shall be recognized. I begin to think we should quit London anyway. Mayhap ’tis time to quit England. ’Tis not really my home, after all.”

He found himself clenching his teeth against a tide of emotion. “Ashfield was not as I recalled. It seemed lesser than that grand manse my father spoke of, and smaller than I remembered.” He sighed. “I am not a squire or a courtier. I mislike court and idle conversation. There is not much here for me.” He found himself restating what he had told Katherine. “My home is the sea.”

“Will she go w’ye?” It was the same question Jeremy had asked him.

“And you?” asked Nicholas, seeking to avoid an answer by asking a question. “Will you settle here with a good English maid, or perhaps a well-to-do widow?” he chuckled.

“Mayhap I could settle at the bottom of a brandy bottle. My cup is empty.” Henry held it upside down and not even a drop splashed onto the table between them.

Nicholas filled his cup. Drunk as a piper, it would be much easier to get Henry—and the offending tooth—to a barber.

* * *

Katherine cracked open an eye. Golden sunlight streamed through the window. Montford lay curled at her feet, but there was no great body beside her. Nicholas was gone.

She stretched from the ends of her fingers to her toes—a great feline stretch—and smiled, happy to greet the new day and its myriad possibilities.

First, she must find her husband and her breakfast.

Katherine rose. She eyed her horrible black dress. Its somber tone belied the happiness of her life, but she had naught else to wear. Perhaps she could liven it up with some ribbons. Later. Not this morning. She needed to get out of this room, among good company. She had not seen Jeremy and Henry for many days. Although they would know what she and Nicholas had been doing, she would have to face them sometime.

She used the chamber pot and pulled on her clothing. Leaving Montford asleep, Katherine opened the door to the hallway and almost fell over Jeremy who lay before it.

“What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. Could he have been there the whole time? What had he heard?

“The Master bid me guard the door.” He yawned and pulled a straggling lock of hair out of his face as he got up. “I had not thought to fall asleep. But ’tis a busy place and I have not been able to get much rest. ’Tis quieter here than downstairs.”

Katherine relaxed. “I’m sorry, Jeremy. I did not mean to be shrill. Is Nicholas below? ’Tis hungry I am.”

“Aye, he is with Henry, poor fellow. His tooth is paining him fierce as ever.”

* * *

At Katherine’s entrance, Nicholas stood. He came to her and kissed her, right there in the common room for all to see. Katherine could feel herself blush, but she did not care overmuch.

He spoke into her ear. “I am working on a plan.”

His warm breath sent tingles down Katherine’s spine, and she nodded.

“I am plying Henry with brandy,” Nicholas continued. “He is on his third cup since I have joined him, and he was already a bit inebriated when I arrived. He is almost drunk enough to have the tooth pulled.” He kissed her on the ear, and Katherine giggled.

“I need you to stay with him while I arrange for a barber.  I will not be away long.”

Katherine smiled. If it had been her plan, she would have made sure that Henry knew what was to come, but Nicholas knew his friend best, and she would abide by his wisdom. They kissed again, and she watched him walk from the room, his tall wide-shouldered form filling her with happiness.

Henry nodded as she sat down in the place vacated by Nicholas. “’Tis good to see ye, m’lady.”

“Thank you, Henry,” Katherine smiled.

“Shall I get you something to break your fast? Perhaps a bit of meat-pie?” Jeremy asked her.

“Yes, please.” Katherine’s stomach made a loud grumble of assent.

Jeremy made a slight bow and walked off.

She smiled at Henry.

He smiled back.

It was the first cheerful look she had seen him make since Devizes, and the swelling on his jaw gave it a humorous touch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, two people who did not know what to say to each other.

“’Tis a good lad ye married,” Henry finally said, a slight slur to his words. “I knowed him since he was a wee boy, and though his actions may be a bit rash, his heart is good. Ye may need to be a bit extra patient with him from time to time, but I think he’ll respond to your good nature.”

“Thank you, Henry. I did not know you have known him so long.”

“We have known each other in good times and some very bad ones too. Nicky does not like to dwell on the hardships in his life. The old Earl, God rest his soul, could never gi’up the past. But mayhap that ’twas good after all since it brought Nicky to England and to you.” He clapped a hand on the table and made a lopsided grin at her.

Katherine frowned. Henry was very drunk and made no sense. “The old Earl…?”

Henry nodded. “His da. Forever pining after Ashfield he was, and for his Lady who was buried there. He left his heart with her, he did. And when they murdered the King…after that he drank his way through many bottles until he died.” Henry looked at his bottle and took a slug of brandy. “It hurt the lad very bad to see his da like that. He doesna like it when I drink neither. Which I do now because of me tooth, which feels better.” He looked around the room and chuckled. “Everything feels better now.”

Katherine stiffened. Could he be saying what she thought he was? Or were his words the incoherent ramblings of a drunkard?

“How is it you have known him so long?” she asked, her voice barely controlled. She braced herself, not wanting to hear his answer.

“Steward to Ashfield I was, as my father before me, and his before that,” Henry said making a careful effort not to slur, and then burped.

Shock hit Katherine like one of her father’s slaps. For a moment, she could not breathe as heat, and then a bitter cold enclosed her.

Nicholas.

Ashfield.

The old Earl.

She shivered, and her voice shook. “Montford.” Answers to questions she had not known to ask fell into place before she could stop them. She nodded. “The Earl of Ashton.”

Henry nodded, and gave her another lopsided grin.

“Nicholas is the Earl of Ashton,” she said in dawning disbelief.
 

Henry’s smile faded to a mild frown.

Katherine stood up. Her seat fell back with a bang.

Henry flinched and put up a hand to cover his ear.

“Katherine,” Nicholas called to her. She turned to see him striding into the room. “Is aught amiss?” He smiled his charming smile, yet she found herself looking upon a stranger, not her beloved Nicholas, Sir Outlaw. This was a man called the Earl of Ashton.

Tears filled her eyes. She blinked hard. “Amiss?” she said backing away from him. “I have just heard I married a man who did not tell me who he is. But ’tis no matter, for now I see you for who
you
are: a scoundrel and a knave. A man with no honor and no conscience. ‘Twould have been a favor to leave me with my father, at least he did not lie to me. You pretended to be my friend so you could get what you really wanted.” Katherine’s voice became a whisper. “And that was not me.”

“That is not so,” Nicholas protested, walking toward her once again.

“Stay back,” Katherine admonished. “Do you deny you married me for my property?”

Nicholas looked uncomfortable. “’Twas only one reason.”

“’Twas the only reason you did not tell me. And without any of the others, ’twas reason enough.” Katherine put her hand to her throat. She felt as if she were choking, and took in ragged gulps of air. Her fingers tangled in the gold chain. Grasping it in her palm, she ripped it off, easily breaking the fine links. She looked at the love-token hanging in her hand for a long sad moment, then opened her fingers and let it fall to the ground. A sob escaped her lips.

“’Tis sorry I am, my Lady” Henry called after her.

Katherine looked back at him. “Thank you, Henry, but I am not your Lady, nor anyone else’s.” She bit hard on her cheeks to keep from crying. “I am but a country squire’s daughter.” She focused on Nicholas. “But at least I am who I say I am.”

“If you would give me a chance to explain,” Nicholas said, as if trying to persuade a small child.
 

Katherine crossed her arms over her chest. “Since I found you in the storm you have had that chance, every minute of every day when we have been together. But I will give you one last opportunity to explain. If you can.”

He held out his hands. “I meant to tell you. I planned to do so.”

“’Tis not an explanation, Nicholas. ’Tis a lie.”

“I would have told you this afternoon.”

“Am I to believe you? You must think me a silly, foolish girl.” The tears she had been holding back spilled down her cheeks, and she angrily wiped them away. “But I am not so foolish as to believe you anymore. I am not that stupid.”

 
Nicholas had dropped his hands. “I . . . I am sorry.”

“No more than I.” And with that, Katherine went to the door. Opening it, she did not look back, but stepped onto the top stair. Shaking from shock and emotion, she took a deep breath of the fetid London air, and walked forward into the noisy, bustling street before her.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

KATHERINE HAD NO MONEY for a hackney coach or sedan chair, and she’d just thrown away the only thing of value she owned. She had left Montford behind as well. But she would not go back. She could not go back. All she could do was find her way to Cousin Alicia’s house.

Fenchurch Street could not be that hard to locate.

However, it turned out she was wrong. Katherine soon found that the streets in London twisted and turned and, although there were numerous signboards, the names of the actual streets were nowhere to be found. 

If she’d had a purse it would have been stolen within the first few minutes. She felt so many hands on her body that she stopped crying out, merely hurried faster each time she was touched.

Nor was that the only danger. Twice she found herself in dank alleyways rife with unsavory characters and smells. Once she’d come across a man urinating on a wall. On the wider thoroughfares, she dodged coaches, horse riders, dung carts, and slops tossed out of second story windows, before realizing she had a better chance of avoiding the filth if she walked right alongside the buildings, under their projecting upper stories.  

Feeling dirtier and dirtier with each new block, she trudged on. The overwhelming numbness from Nicholas’s betrayal was replaced by a state of alarm, when she realized she’d passed a row of shops before, perhaps more than once before. A wary exhaustion seeped through her bones. She could not keep walking without knowing where she headed.

Tired and discouraged, she stopped a rag-picker to ask directions. Once he realized she was not a paying customer he brushed her off and walked on, as did an ink-seller. At last a kindly chimney sweep stopped. After making sure she wanted Fenchurch Street, not Avenue or Place, he gave her very thorough directions of how many blocks to go, where to turn, how many doors to count and how many steps to climb.

As the sun began to sink behind the buildings, Katherine began to fear she had misunderstood the man, or miscounted the blocks. Finally, she turned a corner onto a quiet street and spied a blue door, five doors down, set in a tall brick residence.

That must be it.

Her pace picked up. Taking a deep breath and brushing off the front of her dress, Katherine climbed the steps.

She pounded with the knocker and then waited, heart quaking, hands trembling. Finally, the door was wrenched open and a butler, wig askew, peered out at her.

Katherine pulled herself up to her full height and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Mistress Alicia Pemberton, please,” she said. “Do let her know cousin Katherine Welles has arrived.”

He peered at her first with one eye and then the other, as if not at all sure she wasn’t playing a prank on him.

“This is the Pemberton household, is it not?” Katherine inquired.

He cleared his throat. “It is.”

“Then please convey my message,” she said, almost stomping her foot with impatience and pent up frustration.

The man nodded with a frown. Then he closed the door, leaving her to wait outside.