Scandal's Child (10 page)

“Oh, I don’t believe you! You just don’t wish to waltz!” Very nearly, Caroline stamped her slipper clad foot, but instead marched up to Jules.

He bowed. “Good evening, Miss Strange.”

“Oh, Count, is it true Lord Thistlewait cannot waltz with me because we have not been formally introduced?” She fumed. “That is perfectly absurd because we have been traveling together for weeks.”

Jules shot Jacko an apologetic look. “I believe that only applies to Almack’s,” he drawled.

“Oh, I knew it!” she gushed triumphantly.

“Dash it, I’m no good at this.” Jacko pouted, but nonetheless led the determined Miss Strange onto the dance floor. Jules noticed that within a very few minutes she had him at ease and when next they glided by, Jacko was doing a tolerable job and was even laughing at something Caroline was saying.

To Jules’s delight when the waltz ended Kathryn appeared to search the crowd for him. She hurried to his side.

“Can it be that this is finally my dance, Madame Countess?” he asked, placing her hand on his arm.

Sighing, she turned him toward the terrace. “The countess needs some fresh air. Would you mind forgoing our country dance?”

Chuckling, he shook his head, effortlessly guiding her through the throng to the dimly lit terrace. He couldn’t quite believe his luck; all evening he had been plotting how to get his young wife out into the moonlight, and now she had suggested it herself.

“I believe there is a gazebo down the path to our right. Would you care to see it?” he felt as nervous as a schoolboy.

“That would be lovely,” she sighed again. “Perhaps we could sit there for a few moments and enjoy the night.”

The bench in the gazebo was barely large enough for two, especially when Kathryn turned sideways and tilted her face upward.

“Jules, would you mind very much, but I think something flew into my eye.” Blinking her long lashes, she gazed up at him.

Cradling her face in his hands, he studiously examined each beautiful eye; they were wide, clear, and deep enough to drown in.

“I don’t see anything, Kathryn,” he said slowly.

She fluttered her lashes a few times. “There, I think it is better.”

Jules couldn’t help himself. He kissed her eyelids, her long lashes feathering his lips. Then he brushed her high cheekbone with his searching mouth, and when she gave a breathless sigh he caught it with his lips in a long caressing kiss. He felt her body yield its softness to his, and his mouth moved hungrily to the curve of her throat. Carefully, he repressed his body’s desires; with Kathryn he must go slow.

A woman’s laughter broke them apart; a couple was coming down the path toward them. Kathryn stared at him, her eyes sparkling like jewels in the moonlight. He pressed a brief kiss on her sweet lips one last time. “I believe it is about to become crowded in here. Shall we go in?”

She was uncharacteristically quiet on the way back into the house, but really there was no need for words. Jules was more determined than ever that very soon the connecting door between their rooms would be permanently open.

Kathryn stared at herself in the mirror. Did she look all right? She was wearing another low-cut gown; this one in her favorite color of sea-foam green. And tonight for the opera she had allowed one fat curl to fall over her shoulder and onto the curve of her breast. Was she being too obvious? Had last night’s ploy of wishing for some fresh air been too blatant? Perhaps pretending something had gotten into her eye had been a bit much. But these were new waters for Kat; she didn’t know how to go about seducing someone, let alone her husband. She was simply acting by instinct. She twirled, checking every detail of her costume in the mirror and smiled secretly to herself. Her actions had had the desired effect. Jules was not totally immune to her charms. When he had held her and kissed her in the gazebo she had experienced the most remarkable sensations. Warmth had flooded through her; she’d felt like she was floating in a sea of new, wonderful emotions. If she had anything to say about it, she determined to her reflection, tonight would hold even more such delights!

Jules waited for her in the foyer, his black evening cape swirling around him as he turned to her. She experienced that breathless anticipation again when he gazed up at her and smiled.

“You look lovely tonight, Kathryn, as always. That color very nearly matches your eyes,” he complimented.

Kat shivered as his fingers brushed her bare shoulders when he placed her dark velvet cape lined in the same sea-foam green satin about her.

She moved quickly away so he wouldn’t notice, still unsure of her tactics around him. “Have Jacko and Caroline not arrived yet?”

“They have gone ahead in the first carriage. Come, we shall miss the curtain.”

He handed her up into a large, crested town carriage and climbed in beside her, sliding his arm along the seat back. His fingers began to absently stroke the curl falling down her throat.

“I like your hair like this, Kathryn,” he drawled, seemingly intent on the movement of his hand.

Kat was feeling decidedly warm. If only he would look at her, perhaps then he might kiss her again. Shocked at her thoughts at such an inappropriate moment, right here in the street, a hot flush crept up her neck and face.

It was a relief when the carriage stopped, for Kat was having difficulty breathing with Jules so near.

With him as guide they made their way smoothly to Lady Tutwilliger’s box. Caroline was already seated at the front with Jacko behind her. To Kat’s surprise, Jacko did not appear peevish as he usually did when called upon to do something he disliked. Instead, he was eagerly leaning forward, listening to Caroline’s chatter.

“Oh, look, there are the Duke and Duchess of York. And there is Lady Sefton. Oh, Kathryn, come sit down! Everyone has been looking up at our box.”

“Then let us give them something beautiful to look at,” Jules drawled, drawing her forward. “Smile, my dear, remember what your godmother told us. The sooner the
ton
gets their fill of us, the sooner we shall cease being a novelty.” With that, he lifted her fingers to his lips for all the world to see.

She did not have to pretend to be a loving wife in return. If only he wasn’t pretending, she speculated as he seated her and pulled his chair close enough that his arm rested near her.

She could hardly keep her mind on the music because of his nearness. Drifting between the love story being enacted on the stage and thoughts of her own romantic predicament, she was startled when the house lights went up at the end of the first act. She blinked in confusion. There was a great hubbub as the patrons filed out to the foyer. But, Kat suddenly noticed that one woman in the box directly across the theater was staring at her quite intensely. Kat didn’t recognize her. She was lushly beautiful, with blond hair falling daringly about her bare shoulders. The woman tilted her head to speak to someone behind her and when the man leaned forward Kat gasped. Sir Edmund Trigge!

“What is it, Kathryn?” Jules inquired, then followed her stunned gaze. She felt him go rigid beside her.

She turned to him with wide eyes. “Did you see him, Jules? Sir Edmund.”

“Where?” he bit out.

“In the box across from us.” Frowning, she shook her head. “I thought you saw him, too.”

He stood purposefully. “Don’t be concerned, Kathryn. I will handle this.”

She rose to stop him but he was already out of their box and lost in the throng promenading in the hallway.

“Is something wrong, Kat?” her twin, engrossed in conversation with Caroline, finally took notice of her.

“Of course not,” she laughed. “Why don’t you take Caroline for an orangeade? You might bring me back a glass.”

“Are you sure you’ll be all right here alone?”

“Go, silly!” she insisted. “Jules will be returning any moment.”

But he didn’t come back. The moments lengthened into minutes. Kat stared intently at the box across the theater. The woman had gone and there was no sign of Sir Edmund. Had she imagined it was him? Truth to tell, the lighting had been dim. Maybe she had conjured him out of shadows.

The door opened, and she twirled in relief. Slowly she rose to her feet in surprise. The lovely blond woman, who at closer range seemed much older and more sophisticated, stood in the doorway. She smiled, her gaze searching the box.

“I am so sorry, but I just had to see my dear friend, Jules. But it appears I have missed him.”

“May I help you? I am the Countess Saville.” It was the first time Kat had used the title, and it sounded strange to her.

Obviously it sounded strange to the woman also, because a rather hard look came over her soft mouth. “Yes, so I have been informed. When last I saw Jules he did not mention you,” she stated baldly.

Kat was shocked. She wasn’t so green that she couldn’t guess what kind of friendship Jules had with this woman. That she should confront Jules’s wife and in so obvious a way was unheard of. Kat had been raised to deal with every social situation; confronting a mistress could be no different, say, than dealing with a pushy tradesman.

She thrust up her chin. “Although our acquaintance was long-standing Jules had patience only for a brief engagement before our marriage. You are with Sir Edmund Trigge I see,” Kat stated boldly and was rewarded with a cool smile.

“Yes, the three of us, Jules, Sir Edmund, and I spent much time together in Rome last year…”

Having confirmed that it was indeed Sir Edmund, Kat could not bear to speak to this creature another moment. “I shall tell my husband you stopped by. I am sorry, but I didn’t get your name?”

Tossing back her head, the creature smiled in such a way that Kat wanted to scratch her eyes out.

“Tell him Contessa Marietta Louisa Primavetta is most eager to renew his … acquaintance.”

“Good evening.” Kat dismissed the other woman. Trembling, she sank slowly into her chair. How sure the contessa must be of Jules to so blatantly make an appearance. Kat knew that wives did not give their husbands messages from their mistresses. This would be another secret she would keep to herself, just as she was keeping silent about Sir Edmund’s threats.

There was no doubt in her mind he had been behind the contessa’s little visit. As much as she hated to admit it, Sir Edmund had accomplished his task; Kat was frightened. He seemed to know where she was vulnerable. First, Jacko; now, Jules.

Suddenly, Kat’s plan to somehow seduce her husband into loving her seemed very young and foolish. How could she compete for a heart? Kat wiped away a tear with her lace handkerchief. She must be composed before Jules returned. Not by a flicker of her eyelashes would she let it be known that her heart now possessed a small crack.

As much as she longed to lie in bed, pulling not only the lavender-scented sheets but also the heavy silk bedcover over her head, there was work to be done. The duchess was a darling, once you got used to her strident tongue, and Kat felt obligated not to be a burden on her household.

She wished Jules would move them out of London as fast as possible! Then perhaps no one need ever see her private heartbreak.

The manor house the duke and duchess had so generously deeded to them sounded a perfect retreat. There at least she could keep occupied with running the staff and managing the household. Even the little taste she’d had at the château had whetted her appetite for more.

Her house would be as efficiently run as this one, she decided, running lightly down the steps. As forthright as the duchess was, no one had ever heard her berate a servant. And the staff adored her.

The under-house parlor maid had already trimmed the lamps and candles and straightened the formal salon. Kat wandered back toward the kitchens. It was too early for breakfast, and she was restless. The chef, preparing cutlets for Jules’s delight, was scandalized when Kat entered his domain.

“I wish only to see how your kitchen functions,” Kat apologized, then added ingenuously, “Someday I will have to know all these things myself.”

She must have spoken the magic words for Gaston immediately unbent and Kat spent a delightful hour perched on a wooden chair, hastily brought from the servant’s dining hall, observing and commenting on her surroundings. When she could delay there no longer she went to the morning room where she planned to write a long introductory letter to her new sister-in-law.

Fate, which seemed to be popping up with alarming regularity in her life, intervened. Jules, looking as if he hadn’t yet been to bed since they returned from the opera last night, was rummaging through a drawer. His cravat had been loosened, and his clothes were rumpled. He stopped short when Kat entered.

“Kathryn…” he took a step toward her. “What do you here so early?”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord,” she returned most correctly. “I thought perhaps I could take care of some correspondence. However, I do not wish to bother you…”

They had dealt together much better than this in France before they were married. As they had dealt well here until last night. Kat felt the veriest green schoolgirl! She had honestly believed she could capture this dashing man’s heart and make him wish for no one else, just as her parents had loved.

He stiffened, just as he had done upon returning to the box to find Kat had withdrawn to treat him like a distant stranger. Really! she thought. It was nigh impossible to deal with men and their peccadilloes, but it was the outside of enough when they made a woman feel it was her fault!

Where was the kind friend of the boat? The entertaining companion at the château? The vulnerable brave man who needed her when they had been attacked? The gentle man who had stood before her, making her wedding fears disappear? That was the Jules she had fallen in love with; still loved, even though he might not be faithful to their wedding vows. That thought was so painful she blinked rapidly, stepping away from him. If he wished to have a marriage with her in name only, well, two could play at that game.

“I must be off, then.” She waved one hand languidly. “I believe I’ll spend the day with my sister and godmother. There’s no need to disturb yourself.”

She flew up the stairs before Jules could have a chance to reply, or to see the tears threatening in her burning eyes.

“Damnation!” Jules said it aloud. Since last night she had become another person, brittle and distant. What had he done? He had racked his brain all night and still come up empty. This was not his Kat, full of warmth and fire. What could have changed her in those few minutes? He knew he shouldn’t have left her at all, but the shock of seeing Marietta was so great he had to make inquiries. Even though their liaison had ended amicably when he came home to England over a year ago, he wasn’t pleased she had turned up just now. And with Edmund Trigge. That made her appearance in London, which she heartily detested because of the dampness, particularly worrisome. What new mischief might Trigge plot? Jules couldn’t be certain how Kat might react now that she was behaving so peculiarly.

Had he been too forward, kissing her in the gazebo? In all honesty he couldn’t help himself that she had been so appealing. Had he frightened her with his advances? On their wedding night he’d thought he was doing the right thing, being understanding, giving her time to know him. Nothing was working out the way he’d planned.

He’d never have what Dominic had with his Juliana because Kat did not love him. He’d been a fool to believe they were growing closer and that in time she’d come to care for him. Care for him! Damnation, that wasn’t what he yearned for! He wished for her to feel the burning ache that tortured him whenever he was near her. He would not rest until he won her heart. This was simply a momentary setback he determined grimly.

Perhaps if he could take her to the manor house. They’d be in the country; they could recapture the feelings he knew had begun in France. Then, too, they would be closer to Dominic and Juliana. Maybe if Kat could experience their relationship … she would want it for herself. But, he could never take her from the gaiety of London at the height of the Season. She reveled in this—it was her world. How could he, practically a stranger, take her away from her only family and friends?

He raked long, frustrated fingers through his hair. It was nearly impossible for him to live here much longer. His grandmother, he never thought of her any other way even though they truly were not related, had given Kathryn and him a lovely suite. Unfortunately it wasn’t big enough, the house wasn’t big enough, he was beginning to think the city wasn’t big enough … he couldn’t be this close to Kathryn and not desire her. That was why he had gone to White’s all night, not playing, hardly listening to all that went on around him, just trying with all his willpower to stay away from her.

There was only one thing for it—he had to keep himself so occupied he would have no time to think of her. He sat at the writing desk, quickly penned two notes and summoned a footman to deliver them.

An hour later found him working up a sweat at the establishment named for Gentleman Jackson. Jacko and a group of his friends watched openmouthed as Jules went three rounds with the esteemed proprietor.

“My brother-in-law, the Comte de Saville,” Jacko proudly introduced him later. “Didn’t know you went in for this sort of thing.”

Jules gave him an enigmatic smile. “Just brushing up my technique a bit. It never hurts to keep on top of things.”

Jacko asked him to join his friends for a ride in the park, but Jules murmured something about a business appointment, so Jacko went merrily off. It was just as well, Jules wasn’t fit company for anyone. Not even himself.

It was worse luck to run into Marietta on Bond Street. After all the years they had known each other, he could not cut her. As it was, she came up right beside him.

“I received your note about Sir Edmund. Thank you for warning me,
caro
.” She shrugged, batting her darkened eyelashes. “He was always only barely acceptable at best.”

“Then why were you at the opera with him last night?” Jules asked coolly.

“
Caro,
you know I have few acquaintances in London,” she pouted. “And now that you are married, I suppose we—”

“You are correct, Marietta,” he lifted his eyebrow. “We ended as friends, I would like to keep that memory.”

“You know I wish that, too.” Suddenly she lifted a hand to her eyes. “This terrible English damp. I have the most shocking headache. Would you help me to my carriage? It is just down the street.”

Jules could not be so ungallant as to leave Marietta ill in the middle of the street so he allowed her to tuck her hand into his arm as they made their way to her carriage.

She brightened slightly as he helped her in.

“
Caro,
I will try to stay out of your way, and your wife’s, too. She is a spirited young woman, is she not?”

“How would you know that, Marietta?” he questioned, rejecting the idea that somehow, somewhere, they might have met.

“One knows these things,” she returned with a wave of her hand. “
Ciao, caro.”

With a slight feeling of relief Jules watched her carriage disappear into the traffic. Glancing around, he was pleased to see no one he knew. With everything else that was going wrong, all he needed was some rattle carrying this tale to his beautiful, exasperating wife.

Kathryn had wasted hours on her toilette. She’d heard Jules come and go from their suite without making the least push to see her. Then she’d spent far too long deciding over unimportant purchases at the Pantheon Bazaar. Finally it was eleven o’clock, and, she felt reasonably sure, a civilized hour for a newly married lady to pay a call on her very own sister without raising too much speculation on the subject of her marriage.

Unfortunately, she turned into Bond Street just in time to see the contessa strolling arm in arm, and looking very cozy, with Jules. For once, she so far forgot herself as to urge her horse forward into traffic, uncaring of the other drivers around her.

She had worked herself into a fine snit by the time she arrived at Lady Tutwilliger’s town house. Insisting that her maid hold the reins while she informed Westley to have a footman take her carriage round to the mews was entirely uncharacteristic behavior. The scandalized maid was only too happy to escape to the kitchen.

Willy was holding court in the dining room with a listless Mariah and a resigned, albeit attentive, Hannah Hamilton.

“Where is Caroline?” Kat asked, stripping off her gloves and settling into the chair Westley pulled out for her.

“Jacko came by with two of his cohorts and took her for a ride in the park. I sent along a maid, of course,” Lady Tutwilliger sniffed, favoring Kat with a piercing look. “When are we going to have that little chat you promised me?”

Kat should have known Willy could not be fobbed off when she wanted to know something. Since the day they arrived back in London, Willy had wanted to know about Kat’s marriage. Yesterday Kat could honestly have told her godmother that she was happy, but not today, so she changed the subject.

“Mariah dear, you look pale,” Kat said, noticing that in all truth her beautiful sister did look decidedly ill.

“It is my tooth. It is killing me,” she murmured, cupping the offending jaw with her fingers.

“You need a dose of laudanum,” Hannah stated matter-of-factly. “I often use it for the same problem. It will do the trick, I promise you.”

“Then let us get some now,” Mariah cried, rising to her feet. “I cannot take more of this pain.”

Making soothing noises Hannah shepherded a slumped-shouldered Mariah from the room.

Flicking her godmother an apologetic smile, Kat followed them. “I’ll be back as soon as she is settled.”

An hour later, Mariah was tucked cozily under the covers, peacefully asleep with the help of the laudanum. As promised Kat rejoined her godmother who had moved to the salon to receive visitors.

“Mariah is sleeping now,” Kat informed her godmother before she began to roam restlessly about the room.

“Do sit down! I promise not to quiz you. It is obvious to even the meanest intellect that you do not wish to talk. Besides, we have a more immediate problem!” Willy declared with a look of doom.

“What is it?” Kat asked, happy to be able to deal with anyone else’s problems. She slipped down beside Willy on the couch.

“It is your sister and Mr. Vanderworth. The wretched man is no closer to declaring himself than ever. They were to ride together today, now what do I tell him?”

“The truth. Mariah has the toothache.” Kat shrugged, not really seeing the problem.

“Don’t be a peagoose! A toothache indeed! The truth is totally unacceptable.” Willy’s foot tapped in rhythm with her finger upon her pursed lips. There was a decided gleam in her eyes that Kat found alarming. She had seen it before and bedlam usually followed.

Promptly fifteen minutes later, Mr. Vanderworth presented himself for his ride with Mariah. He was as correct as ever, black Hessians gleaming and his cravat tied to perfection. How could Mariah be drawn to this stony-faced man whom Kat had never seen express any emotion besides the barest smile?

“Mr. Vanderworth, it is
delightful
to see you, but I’m afraid Mariah is unable to ride with you today,” Willy sighed mournfully.

Was there a spark of emotion in those eyes? And, yes, Kat did see a faint flush on his chiseled cheeks!

“I hope nothing is amiss?” he inquired politely.

Willy lifted a handkerchief to her eyes, but not before she had flashed Kat a quelling look.

“We don’t know … yet. The physician is on his way.”

“The physician! Is it that serious?”

Kat nearly jumped at the force of his voice and watched in fascination as Mr. Vanderworth’s cool facade melted before her eyes.

“There is no way…” Willy tried to continue.

“The king’s physician must be called in!” He jumped to his feet and paced the salon. “He is the best in the land. Mariah must have the best care possible!”

“I really don’t think the king’s physician is necessary,” Willy offered timidly.

“Not necessary! Of course it is! I insist upon it!” He nearly shouted, his eyes wild with concern.

“You insist, Mr. Vanderworth?” Willy asked softly with a self-satisfied smile upon her face.

“Lady Tutwilliger, surely you have not failed to notice my regard for Lady Mariah. This is possibly not the time, but…”

Willy stopped his eager attempts with the lift of her hand. “Tomorrow you might speak to Lord Thistlewait. Nine o’clock sharp.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he nodded backing from the room. “Please send me a note after the doctor calls. I shall be waiting.”

“Of course, dear boy. The instant we know!” Willy promised, gently smiling as a shaken Mr. Vanderworth took his leave.

“Willy, you are shameless,” Kat scolded, unable to keep herself from chuckling.