A Matter of Duty (13 page)

She stared at him, a myriad emotions crossing her face. Anger and hurt swept through her: anger that he so obviously believed her guilty where Geoffrey Lawrence was concerned, and hurt that he could so easily treat her like this. She raised her chin defiantly. ‘Good night,’ she replied.

He inclined his head and went out again, closing the door softly behind him. The room was once more engulfed in darkness.

S
he was embarrassed as well as unhappy as she went down to breakfast the next morning, for she knew that her lonely wedding night would be common knowledge belowstairs; they’d be talking of little else. She felt low, and the prospect of the opera that evening was daunting.

She wore a high-waisted light-green muslin gown by Madame Coty, with a dark-green velvet ribbon tied beneath her breasts. Rows of dainty lace on the hem swung richly as she descended the staircase. Her hair was pinned up beneath a little day bonnet, with soft curls framing her face, and there was a light cashmere shawl draped over her arms. She wasn’t looking forward to facing Kit, for the hurt still lingered deeply that he had so swiftly believed ill of her; it was a hurt tinged with resentment, for even if she’d behaved wantonly with Geoffrey Lawrence – which she hadn’t – did that make her any worse than Kit himself, who’d been bedding another man’s wife?

The dining room lay at the back of the house, next to the library, and had French windows overlooking the same walled garden. Outside, the sun was shining, catching brightly on the dolphin fountain. The room itself was decorated with blue-and-cream-striped silk wallpaper, and a soft sapphire-blue carpet almost completely covered the floor. A great sideboard ranged down one wall, the silver-domed dishes supervised by Miller, and Kit sat at the oval mahogany table reading
The Times
. The white tablecloth was very bright in the morning light, and the smell of coffee and toasted bread hung in the warm air.

Kit rose as she entered. He was wearing a dark-red silk dressing gown over a shirt and cream cord trousers, and his blond hair was a little ruffled. His eyes were impenetrable as he spoke to her. ‘Good morning, Louisa.’

‘Good morning.’

Miller hastened to draw out a chair for her.

Kit waited until she was seated and then sat down again himself. ‘I trust you slept well.’

She flushed, her glance flying toward the butler, who was bringing some freshly made toast to the table. ‘Yes, thank you. Quite well,’ she replied.

He nodded toward the newspaper. ‘
The Times
speaks highly this morning of Catalini’s performance in
Cosi Fan Tutte
. I think we can be assured of an excellent evening.’

‘Indeed?’ It was dreadful making idle conversation about things that really didn’t matter when so many unspoken words hung almost audibly in the air. It was made even worse by the butler’s hovering presence.

Kit glanced at her, his eyes still veiled. ‘Aren’t you looking forward to tonight?’

‘It doesn’t exactly fill me with eager anticipation.’

He studied her for a moment and then nodded at the butler. ‘That will be all for the moment, Miller.’

The butler bowed and withdrew.

Kit looked at her again. ‘You appear to have something on your mind, Louisa.’

‘Is that really surprising?’

‘I suggest you tell me whatever it is.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘You say that as if you expect me to confess to a passionate affair with Captain Lawrence! I’m sorry to disappoint you, because I’m not about to confess to something that isn’t at all true!’

‘You told me yesterday that you were innocent of misconduct. I accept your word.’

‘Do you? Then why have you been so cold toward me since?’

‘I haven’t been cold, I’ve been very civil.’

‘That, sir, is a monstrous untruth, and you know it. Before I received that odious locket, you were very agreeable, but since then you’ve been disagreeable in the extreme. You imagine me to be guilty of considerable indiscretion, and you consequently treat me badly. I don’t imagine you to be guilty of indiscretion, I
know
you are, and that, sir, makes you something of a hypocrite.’ She was reckless because he’d caught her so much on the raw.

‘Does it indeed?’ he replied shortly. ‘I think you’ve said more than enough, Louisa.’

‘I’ve only said what needed to be said. I refuse to be unfairly condemned, especially by someone as patently guilty of double standards as you.’ The rashness still gripped her.

‘I said that was enough, Louisa, and I meant it.’ There was an edge to his voice, and his eyes were angry. ‘You may be my wife, but I won’t be spoken to in that tone. Is that quite clear?’

‘Oh, it’s perfectly clear, sir,’ she replied in a quivering tone. ‘Do you now expect me to sally forth to the opera house tonight and dote upon you as if we’re a love match? To do that I’ll need to be a veritable Mrs Siddons!’ She didn’t know why she was blundering on, but she couldn’t help herself. He’d touched a very sensitive nerve, arousing her considerable hurt and indignation. ‘Madam,’ he said quietly, ‘if Lawrence had any reason to send you that locket, as far as I’m concerned you already
are
a Mrs Siddons. I vow your act of sweet innocence was breathtakingly convincing.’

Her breath caught as if he’d physically struck her.

Slowly he rose to his feet. ‘Absorbing as this conversation is, I fear I must bring it to a close as I have much to attend to. I intend to be out all day, but I’ll return in time for the opera. Good day to you, Louisa.’

She didn’t reply, and as the door closed behind him, she remained motionless in her chair, devastated with hurt that he could say and think such things.

She had a lonely day, spent mostly reading in the garden temple. She’d found a book about Highclare and the Isle of Wight in the library, and as it contained several illustrations of the house that she would soon be seeing, she was very interested. It looked very beautiful, with grounds sweeping right down to the Solent, but as she looked at it, she wondered what awaited her there. What would the earl have to say about his grandson’s undoubted misalliance? Her gaze moved away from the book to the dancing waters of the dolphin fountain. Maybe it was all academic anyway, for things had gone so very wrong that Kit might already be contemplating having the marriage set aside. He now believed her to be less than virtuous, and he hadn’t spent the night with her. She wasn’t yet really his wife.

When evening came, she went to her room to dress for the opera, having first taken a lonely dinner in the dining room. For her first appearance in society as Lady Highclare, she selected one of Madame Coty’s finest gowns, a creation in lilac silk with an overgown of plowman’s gauze sprinkled with small silver spots. It had a very low, scooped neckline decorated with silver embroidery, and dainty little puffed sleeves made of the gauze alone. Its high waistline was marked by a silver drawstring directly beneath her breasts, and its hem was adorned with more of the fine silver embroidery. Pattie piled her hair up into an intricate knot, teasing wispy curls around her face, and then looped silver ribbons through the knot, allowing them to tumble down to the nape of her neck.

She heard Kit return, but he didn’t come to her room. Pattie must have been curious about the strange coolness between the newlyweds, but she gave no outward sign of it. She brought her mistress’s silver-threaded shawl and lilac velvet reticule, and then her long white gloves and ivory fan. A few moments later, Louisa was ready to go down. With a last look at her reflection in the cheval glass, she left the room. The drawing room was a large, elegant chamber on the first floor, its tall windows overlooking the square. Its walls were pale peach, with white-and-gold niches containing marble busts and statuettes.

The furniture was upholstered in gray brocade, and the specially woven Axminster carpet picked out the gray, peach, and beige design on the beautiful ceiling. Three chandeliers gleamed in the fading evening light, and they moved just a little in the draft of cool evening air drifting in through the open windows. The room was deserted as she went in, for Kit had yet to come down.

Outside, a carriage was passing, and a church bell was striking the half-hour. Was it the bell of St George’s in Hanover Square? For a moment her thoughts threatened to return to Tom, but she struggled to prevent that happening. She needed her composure if she was to face society, for there wouldn’t be a veil to be behind this time.

At last she heard Kit approaching. The white-and-gold double doors opened and he came in. He was dressed in the very formal attire required of gentlemen attending the opera, his appearance completed by a dress sword and cocked hat, both of which were
de rigueur
for such occasions. His fair hair shone in the fading light, and there was still a shadow in his eyes as he came toward her. ‘Good evening, Louisa,’ he said coolly.

‘Sir.’ She responded to his reserve, but her heart tightened within her. Nothing had changed since this morning: he still thought ill of her.

He looked her over from head to toe. ‘You’re looking particularly lovely tonight.’

‘Thank you.’ She wished she could take pleasure in the compliment, but she knew it meant nothing.

He went to a painting on the wall, and to her surprise she saw that it concealed a cupboard set flush into the plasterwork. Taking a key from his pocket, he unlocked it and lifted out an elegant silver casket, which he brought to a table. With yet another key, he unlocked the casket, and she saw inside a magnificent collection of jewelry. He looked at her. ‘These are the Highclare jewels, given to each new Lady Highclare. They are therefore now yours.’

She stared at them and then at him. ‘Do you really want me to have them?’

‘You’re Lady Highclare now, Louisa, and therefore you have the right to them.’

‘But what if I don’t remain Lady Highclare?’ she asked hesitantly, unable to help herself because of her thoughts in the garden temple earlier in the day.

‘Why wouldn’t you remain my wife?’

She looked into his eyes. ‘Because you could want to set me aside.’

‘Is that what you think I intend?’

‘I can’t deny that it’s crossed my mind.’

‘Then let me assure you that you’re wrong. You are my wife and will remain so.’

‘In spite of what you think of me?’

‘I have your word that you’re innocent where Lawrence is concerned.’

‘But you don’t believe that word, do you? You’ve made that only too clear.’

‘You’re my wife,’ he said again, in a tone that closed the subject. He looked through the jewels for a moment and then selected a silver circlet set with three very large amethysts. He raised it to her head, resting it gently around her forehead. ‘The finishing touch, I believe,’ he murmured.

‘Kit …’

‘When society sees that circlet,’ he interrupted, ‘it will know beyond a doubt that you are my wife, for it’s well-known as part of the Highclare collection.’

‘Kit, I haven’t done anything of which I’m ashamed. Captain Lawrence has never meant anything to me, I swear he hasn’t.’

He met her gaze for a long moment, then he offered her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

Renewed hurt surged through her, but she said nothing more, accepting his arm.

They went down to the entrance hall, where Miller waited to open the front door, then they emerged into the gentle evening air to go to the waiting carriage.

T
he Italian Opera House, also known as the King’s Theater, stood at the foot of the Haymarket. It was an impressive building, its ground floor graced by a lamplit arcade, behind which were the brightly illuminated bow windows of little shops. Madame Angelica Catalani was always a great attraction, and tonight was no exception. A constant flow of fine coaches arrived and departed outside the main entrance.

Louisa grew more and more apprehensive as she sat opposite Kit in the town carriage. Her heart was pounding as the vehicle swayed to a standstill, and Kit alighted, turning to assist her. Her gown rustled richly as she stepped down, and the silver spots on the plowman’s gauze shone in the light from the lamps in the arcade. It was almost completely dark, the sunset a stain of dull red on the western horizon.

She’d barely alighted when another carriage drew up, and Reggie Carruthers got out, accompanied by a slender young man with receding auburn hair. They were both clad for the theater, although Reggie was as always in blue. He saw Louisa and Kit and came over immediately, his friend at his side. ‘
Mes enfants
, I trust you’ve kissed and made up.’

She hardly dared glance at Kit, but he was smiling.

‘A lover’s tiff, dear boy, no more and no less,’ he said.

‘I’m glad to hear it. Mind you, with a wife as glorious as this, I can’t wonder you got into a jealous pet.’ Reggie grinned at him and then drew Louisa’s hand to his lips.

Kit was looking at the other man. ‘Good evening, Harry. How goes Almack’s and the War Office these days?’

‘Both go very well,’ the other replied. He had an agreeable face, with a high forehead, and he looked at Louisa, waiting to be presented.

Kit hastened to effect the introduction. ‘Harry, this is my wife, Louisa. Louisa, allow me to present Harry Temple, Lord Palmerston, our disgustingly youthful Secretary of War.’

The man Geoffrey Lawrence had had an appointment with. She made herself smile. ‘Good evening, Lord Palmerston.’

He kissed her hand. ‘
Enchanté, madame
. I trust I’m one of the first to have the honor of meeting you.’

‘The second, sir. Mr Carruthers was the first.’

‘Wretched fellow, always pushing in.’ He smiled at her. ‘I must confess that the stir you’ve created hasn’t prepared me for your beauty.’

‘You flatter me, I think.’

‘On the contrary, for such a small compliment doesn’t do you justice. Actually, by a strange coincidence I was speaking only the other day to Captain Geoffrey Lawrence, the son of.…’ He broke off in some embarrassment.

‘Of my former employer?’ she finished for him, her heart sinking that Geoffrey’s name had been mentioned.

‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to speak out of turn.’

She was aware of a barely discernible reaction from Kit. Outwardly he was as affable as before, but she’d felt the tightening of his gloved hand over hers. She managed a light smile. ‘You haven’t spoken out of turn, Lord Palmerston, for there’s no gainsaying that I was employed as a governess at Lawrence Park.’

‘But nevertheless, I’m sure you don’t wish to be reminded of the fact. Please forgive me, and say that when we next meet you’ll kindly forget my blunder and allow me to begin again.’

‘There’s nothing to forgive, sir, but if it will please you to hear me say it, then of course I’ll forget.’

Another carriage was drawing up, and he seemed to find it rather interesting. ‘If you’ll excuse me, there’s someone I wish to speak to.’ He bowed over her hand again, nodded to Kit, and then hurried away to the other vehicle.

Reggie lingered for a moment more. ‘I say, I trust mentionin’ that toad Lawrence isn’t goin’ to make you two fall out again. That dashed prank of his with the locket really ain’t worth squabblin’ over, you know.’

‘I know,’ answered Kit, ‘and we won’t fall out.’

‘Good. Well, I suppose I’d better toddle along, then. Harry’s dead set on joinin’ the Jerseys in their box. It’s damned embarrassin’, if you ask me.’ Drawing Louisa’s hand to his lips again, he took his leave of them, strolling over to join Lord Palmerston, who stood talking with the lady and gentleman who’d alighted from the other carriage.

The lady was very beautiful, but seemed a little imperious, and she glittered with jewels, from the dazzling comb in her hair to the rhinestones adorning every inch of her yellow taffeta gown. She looked about twenty-five years old, and her husband, if husband he was, looked about forty. Unlike his wife, he had a pleasant, easygoing countenance, his face breaking into a pleased smile as he saw Reggie approaching.

Louisa was anxious to forget Geoffrey Lawrence; she glanced at Kit. ‘The Jerseys? Does that mean the Earl and Countess of Jersey?’

‘Yes, and if you wonder what Reggie’s cryptic remark about embarrassment implied, it’s because Harry Temple is merely the latest in a long, long line of Sarah’s lovers. Her long-suffering husband has been heard to declare that he refuses to defend her honor, for if he did, he’d have to call out nearly every gentleman in London.’

Louisa stared at the little group. The earl was speaking to Lord Palmerston now, and was giving no sign of resenting him. ‘Does the earl know about Lord Palmerston?’ she asked.

‘Of course. Sarah isn’t one to keep her amours a secret.’

‘Oh.’ Louisa was a little taken aback.

‘I detect a certain note of disapproval, but then I suppose that’s only to be expected, since you dislike such double standards.’

She flushed a little, remembering their breakfast conversation. ‘You’re quite correct, sir, I do dislike them.’

‘And yet you’ve quite willingly entered into a marriage based solely on those double standards,’ he said softly. ‘Shall we go in?’

‘By all means,’ she replied coolly, wishing that all the awkwardness and mistrust could be dispelled and their place taken by the gentleness and understanding that had existed before.

They proceeded into the theater, but their progress to Kit’s private box was a very slow business, because they encountered a great many of his friends and acquaintances, all of them eager to make her acquaintance at last. The whole of society appeared to be buzzing about the astonishing match, and was consumed with speculation as to why she’d become Lady Highclare quite so swiftly.

For her it was every bit the ordeal she’d been dreading, and was made even worse because of the false attention Kit was so assiduously paying her. No one watching could have known that he wasn’t in love with her, or that each smile he awarded her cut through her like a knife. The memory of the kiss in the Grosvenor Chapel seemed all around her, for it had awakened a desire that burned like a flame. She wished she could protect herself by being indifferent to him, but she couldn’t, she was falling more and more in love all the time.

She managed to remain outwardly calm as she was presented to face after face. Her fan wafted almost lazily to and fro, and she parried their questions with an ease she didn’t know she possessed. It seemed a lifetime before they at last reached the sanctuary of the box.

She sat in one of the blue velvet chairs, gazing around the huge auditorium, where the drone of refined conversation seemed like the hum of a million bees. The auditorium was horseshoe-shaped, with five tiers of boxes, a gallery, and a pit where fops and dandies displayed themselves, rattling their canes and snuff-boxes, and talking in loud tones. Over three thousand persons could be accommodated in these magnificent surroundings of Bourbon blue and silver, and tonight it seemed that that many were present.

Almost directly opposite, she could see the Earl and Countess of Jersey’s box, with Lord Palmerston and Reggie Carruthers among its occupants. She watched them for a moment, still a little astonished by the earl’s amazing forbearance where his unfaithful wife’s
amours
were concerned. Glancing at her own wedding ring, she reflected that she’d never sit knowingly with Kit and his beloved T; unwittingly she might fall into the trap, but never knowingly.

Kit had noticed her looking at the other box. ‘You’ll encounter many such double standards in society, Louisa.’

‘And so I might as well get used to them?’

‘Something of the sort.’

‘Maybe you’re right, where others are concerned,’ she replied, looking at him, ‘but where we’re concerned it’s different. Lord Jersey is free to sit amicably with his wife’s latest lover if he wishes, but I’ll never sit knowingly like that with you and your mistress.’

His gaze became cold. ‘If you think I’d expect such a thing of you, you don’t know me very well.’

‘That’s right, I don’t know you very well, but I do know that soon we’ll be leaving for Cowes, and then you’ll see her again. You may claim that it’s over between you, but we both know it isn’t. What’s going to happen when you see her again? What am I to expect?’

‘Nothing will change, I’ll still treat you with the consideration due to a wife. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to discuss it further.’

‘Very well.’ She returned her attention to the rest of the auditorium. The brief exchange had upset her, although she endeavored not to show it. Why had fate had to deal her such a cruel hand? Why had she had to fall in love with him?

Her glance moved along the tiers of boxes opposite, coming to a halt suddenly on two gentlemen seated alone together. One was of coldly aesthetic appearance, his dark hair graying prematurely at the temples. His left arm was in a sling, and his chill glance was fixed upon her as he lounged in his chair. His gaze was steady and unsmiling, and it sent an unaccountable shiver through her, making her look quickly at his companion instead. With a jolt she found herself staring into Geoffrey Lawrence’s slyly smiling face. Her breath caught as he inclined his head to her.

Kit saw and his eyes narrowed angrily. ‘The fellow seems set to haunt us, does he not?’

She didn’t reply. The last thing she wanted was for Geoffrey to once again become a bone of contention. She gazed with resentment across at the other box, despising the man whose spite had made such a horrid difference to her relationship with Kit. Determined to talk about anything but him, she gave further attention to his companion. ‘Who is the other man?’ she inquired.

He hesitated. ‘Lord Rowe,’ he said reluctantly.

The name fell into the air like ice. Lord Rowe, the man who’d killed Tom. The color went from her cheeks, and suddenly the sounds of the theater were deadened.

Kit put a warning hand over hers. ‘Don’t show your feelings so clearly, you’re like an open book. Everyone now knows about the duel and so they know your brother died at Rowe’s hand, they’ll be watching you.’

‘How can you expect me to hide my feelings when I’m faced with my brother’s murderer?’ she breathed.

‘That’s too strong a word to use in public,’ he said sharply. ‘Behave with decorum, for Tom knew full well what he was doing when he embarked upon that duel, and you’d do well to remember that.’

‘Would you have me smile at him? I cannot believe even you would be guilty of
that
double standard!’

‘Lower your voice, madam. You’re no longer a governess and this isn’t the schoolroom.’

The words brought her up sharply, just as he’d intended. ‘How – how kind of you to remind me,’ she said stiffly.

There wasn’t time to say any more, for at that moment the curtain rose and the performance began. Catalini was brilliant, with a charming, vivacious manner and a rich, harmonious voice. She held the audience enthralled throughout, but Louisa would have enjoyed it far more had it not been for the presence opposite of two men she loathed so much: the one who’d set out to rob her of her virtue and Kit’s kindness, the other who’d robbed her of her brother.

When the performance was over and everyone began to leave, she and Kit waited for most of the crush to pass before they quit their box, but somehow she knew that they’d still come face to face with Geoffrey and Rowe. It happened at the head of the staircase, and there were still a number of people there to witness it.

Kit saw them first and took her elbow to firmly steer her past, but Rowe stepped deliberately into their path, determined to force a meeting. ‘Good evening, Highclare. Madam.’ His cold eyes moved speculatively over her.

Kit gave a cool response, but she was trembling with loathing, knowing that her feelings were very close to getting the better of her, and so she didn’t acknowledge either man.

Rowe smiled a little at achieving such a reaction from her, but Geoffrey decided to try to provoke her into a response. ‘Good evening, Miss Cherington,’ he said, affecting to bow gallantly. ‘Ah, forgive me, it’s Lady Highclare now, isn’t it?’ She met his eyes, looking straight through him, thus delivering a very deliberate snub.

All those watching – and there were quite a few because all interest was directed at the noteworthy new Lady Highclare – couldn’t help recognizing her action for what it was. A stir passed through them all.

Geoffrey was a little uneasy, not having expected her to make her feelings quite so publicly clear, but Rowe wasn’t deterred in the slightest; on the contrary he seemed to find it rather amusing, challenging even. ‘Well, now, Highclare,’ he murmured, ‘aren’t you going to introduce me to the lady who has all town
en emoi
?’

Kit’s fingers tightened warningly over hers as he saw how stormy her eyes were, then he looked at Rowe with deep dislike. ‘Do you really think such an introduction is entirely appropriate at the present time?’

‘My dear fellow, manners are always appropriate,’ came the smooth reply.

It was too much for her; she couldn’t hold her tongue a moment longer. ‘I refuse to be introduced to you, sirrah,’ she said, her tone loud and clear.

A pin could have been heard to drop in the ensuing silence. Rowe’s unpleasant smile froze. ‘It seems, madam, that for a governess you stand in strange need of a lesson in civility.’

Kit replied sharply to that. ‘Have a care, Rowe, for it’s to my wife that you speak, and therefore to me.’

‘Does she then think for both of you?’ inquired Rowe softly.