SoundsofLove (6 page)

The coach lurched forward into traffic, and Violet turned
away. Cathryn waited until his carriage disappeared around a corner, sighing
when she lost sight of him. It was adolescent behavior, but she couldn’t help
herself.

“Well then, what do you plan to do with Sir Percival?”

She didn’t want to think about Percival—she wanted Julian.
She gathered her thoughts to respond to Violet’s question. “I don’t believe
Ahlquist is a candidate for marriage…” She puffed a small pillow and set it
back down on the seat. “So I am conflicted over further involvement.” She made
her way slowly to the settee, savoring the way everything appeared new to her
eyes. The plants were glossier, the fire brighter, the sunshine warmer on her
back. “The earl has asked me to settle with Percival before we…proceed.”

Violet retrieved her needlepoint from the end table. “He’s
asked you to be his mistress?”

“Not in so many words, no, but I believe that is his intent.”
Only twenty minutes ago, such a limited liaison seemed perfectly reasonable,
even if dangerous to her future well-being. A shot of panic surged through her.
Now that the words had been spoken aloud, and she planned to end her betrothal,
she was abandoning a lifeline she hadn’t known she valued. Percival was safety,
for her and for Violet. Dallying with Julian was perilous.

Violet settled in the chair by the fire. “Is that what you
want?”

Cathryn nodded in spite of her reservations, and her alarm
subsided. Julian would do well by her, he had told her as much. “I do. I know
he’s wrong for me, but what woman wouldn’t want him?” His image flooded her
mind, and she continued, “I would give up a great deal to wake up next to a man
as handsome as he is, even if only for a few months.”

“He is a striking man and most congenial.” Violet paused in
her stitching. “You’ve been attending meetings for nearly a year, how is it
that you never mentioned him before?”

Cathryn swallowed hard as she faced a painful truth. “I
thought him above me.” She felt like a green girl admitting it, but her sights
had never rested on him because he was too good-looking and landed regularly in
the gossip columns. She’d believed her destiny rested with a man of lesser
stature, and steadier temperament.

“Nonsense,” Violet rushed to assure her. “You’re a person of
superior character in every regard. He’s the honored party in this affair.
Don’t forget that, Cat.”

Cathryn nodded as she took her seat and prayed Violet was
right. Her father was a baron with little property, a recluse in his dusty
library since her mother passed a decade ago. Her eldest brother’s only
interest appeared to be modern agricultural techniques, her other three brothers
had scattered to the edges of the earth, and none yet achieved fame or fortune.
Her family had little to recommend them to such a grand man as the earl.

Nonetheless, Julian Ahlquist had just been here in her
parlor, as entranced by her as she was by him. He was beyond her dreams, and
yet, the tantalizing temptation was exquisitely real.

“How do you think Percival will take this?”

Cathryn resented the intrusion on the thoughts of her
lover-to-be, and her eyes drifted slowly to Violet threading a pink strand for
her embroidery. “You know him better than I, you tell me.”

“Well, he lacks charm—Ahlquist has enough for them both. But
Percival is proud as the day is long, and he can be vindictive if he feels
crossed.” She poked at the fabric. “He’s a baron now, and I imagine that has
gone to his head. I could envision him bringing a breach of promise suit if he
feels injured by you. That would be a scandal, and the earl wouldn’t want to be
party to that.”

Cathryn pondered Violet’s words as she stared at the fire
and was startled when Violet added, “Perhaps you misunderstood Ahlquist, and he
means to court you.”

“No, I think not.” Cathryn shook her head. “He needs a
younger wife, or a woman with a history of bearing sons.”

“Geoffrey had no children from his first marriage. It’s
likely he’s the infertile one.”

Cathryn dearly hoped so, she wanted children very badly. “In
any case, Ahlquist’s interest in me is purely physical.” Perhaps he had ways to
keep his mistresses from conceiving—she would have to ask. She didn’t want a
child out of wedlock.

Violet snorted lightly. “He quoted you, Cat. I think that’s
a sign you two are destined for one another.”

Cathryn warmed at the thought. Could Julian Ahlquist be her
destiny? It was an outlandish thought, audacious beyond imagination. She had
simply caught his eye and he was attracted to her.

He planned nothing more than an affair—or had she
misunderstood him?

“En garde!”

Julian parried the thrust and lunged forward to return one
of his own, which was easily deflected.

“Too low,” the fencing master warned, then scored a hit on
Julian’s right shoulder. “And too slow.”

Julian resumed his stance, and his instructor continued to
decimate him. Normally they were more equally matched, but he was distracted
this afternoon. Lilith had made a terrible scene just hours before, breaking
glassware and maligning his character and person most thoroughly. He ached to
see Cathryn but had no excuse to do so. He would have to wait until tomorrow.

Another hit scored very near his heart, and even through his
protective leather jacket he suffered the force of the blunt tip and took a
step back.

“Enough!” yelled his fencing master. “Your tempo and
distance are off today. I cannot fence with you or I will become polluted by
your incompetence.”

Julian dropped his sword tip and removed his leather
facemask. “My apologies, Master Aubrey.”

“Who is she?” Master Aubrey removed a similar mask, and a
cascade of light-blonde hair fell nearly to her waist.

Julian stared at his instructor’s unusual tresses for a
moment before turning away. Fiona Aubrey was not only the finest fencer in
London, she was exquisite, even as she approached forty. “You don’t know her,”
he muttered as he accepted a towel to wipe his face.

“Well, you’d best get under her skirts quickly or your
fencing will degrade.”

Julian shook his head. “What makes you think I haven’t—”

“I’ve been instructing you for two decades. You slow down a
full measure when your balls are full.”

A bark of laughter from the doorway caught both their
attention. “Ah, Fiona, my delicate flower.” Noel Ahlquist, Marquis of
Darlington approached his mistress of nearly twenty years with a broad grin. “I
see you are giving my son lessons in anatomy now.”

“He’s fortunate there are no wars to wage, he would need a
whore before every battle.”

“Is that so uncommon?” Noel reached her and gave her a kiss
on the lips.

Julian turned away to shed his gear and wished the sight of
Fiona with his father didn’t still tug at his chest.

“No.” The frost in her voice seemed to thaw at his touch. “If
I had a penny for every whore I heard moaning in our camp on the night before a
battle, I would not need to teach.”

“I would give you a thousand pennies, my love, if I could
ease your memories.”

“It wouldn’t be enough,” she said as Noel helped her remove
her protective jacket. “On the night before Waterloo, there was a chorus of
passionate wailing all around our tent.”

“Surely they weren’t all whores.”

“Well, my mother never wailed. Her breathing barely changed
when Father mounted her.”

Julian and Noel exchanged an amused look as Fiona strode
across the room in her black breeches and close-fitting top.

“And Melina’s parents were equally quiet.”

Noel bristled at the mention of Fiona’s tentmate from the
Napoleonic wars. Julian wondered if he knew of Melina Burns’ correspondence
with the Philological Society. He didn’t want to mention it in front of his
father, who shared his jealous discomfort over the infamous woman’s alliance
with Fiona.

She slipped a sapphire-blue skirt on over her breeches. “Our
mothers’ self-control was remarkable, actually.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she
smoothed her skirt. “Such was the life of a soldier’s wife.” She took Noel’s
arm casually. “You’re early. Didn’t your meeting go well?”

“It went very well, my love, or I wouldn’t have offered you
all those pennies.” Noel recovered and winked at Julian, who had shed his gear
and was accepting a jacket from an attendant. “All is well with the estate. We
had bumper crops this year.”

“Lindenhorn and Fair Hill were also productive.” As earl, he
had only two holdings to the marquis’ seven, but the earnings were more than
adequate for his needs.

“Good.” Noel smiled down at Fiona on his arm. “So what’s
this I hear about Julian’s new mistress?”

Fiona laughed. “He says I don’t know her, but I’ll wager you
a guinea I do.” She led him towards the door.

“You know I abhor gambling, love. That’s how I save my
pennies.”

Julian shared his father’s animosity towards gambling. Too
many fortunes had been needlessly lost at the tables. The Ahlquist men preferred
to spend their money on land and women.

Fiona whispered something in Noel’s ear, and he chuckled. “Very
well, I’ll take that wager.” Turning to Julian, he wore an enviable air of deep
contentment. “So, who is your new conquest? Do I know her?”

“She’s not mine yet.” He opened the door for the couple to
pass and followed them out into the cold hallway.

“Perhaps we can help you with your mission,” Fiona offered. “What’s
her name?”

They would find out soon enough. “Lady Cathryn Sibley.”

“The writer? Oh, she’s lovely, and I adore her columns.” She
shot him a quizzical look. “I never thought you’d become casually involved with
someone like her.”

“What has she written, love?” Noel asked.

“Women’s advice columns. She wants the masses to read and
study. She says women are more interesting people when they read.” She picked a
piece of lint off the marquis’ jacket. “Men as well, I suppose.”

Thinking about how interesting Cathryn had become after
reading
Fanny Hill
, Julian chuckled. “Well, I read a great deal, Fiona.”
Once they left the fencing studio, he relaxed with her. “Why wouldn’t Lady
Sibley suit me?”

“Well, she’s a lady, for one.”

“I’ve been with other noblewomen.”

Fiona tsked. “Not many. You prefer actresses and
light-skirts.”

“Nonetheless.” He shrugged at the truth of it. Such women
were easy to acquire and dispose of in London.

She led them into her dining room, where a fire blazed but
the sideboard was empty. “Is her mourning over?” He nodded and followed her to
the liquor tray. “Baron Sibley was ill for some time and his estate was not
large. Did he leave her well-off?”

“She appears to be very comfortable. She and her
sister-in-law, Mrs. Pickering, share a townhouse off Grosvenor Square.” He
poured glasses of port for himself and his father.

“Well, it will still cost her to become involved with you.
I’ll wager she has no proper evening gown, and she’ll need two if Mrs.
Pickering accompanies her.”

Gowns cost a small fortune in London. He had the bills to
prove it.

“Pickering’s a widow as well, isn’t she?” Fiona continued.

As he handed his father the drink, he asked, “How do you
know so much about her?”

She shrugged and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder.
She often wore it down when his father was present. “Charity work and such.”

He had never envisioned Fiona outside her roles as one of
London’s premier fencing instructors, his father’s long-standing mistress and
the bane of his youth, as he craved her in spite of her allegiance to his
father.

“In any case, Julian, she is a woman of substance. A paragon
of virtue by her actions and words.”

Noel added, “Baron Sibley died without issue, and I’d heard
his cousin agreed to marry the widow after he inherited. That woman who attends
the Philological Society meetings. Is it the same woman?”

Julian’s temper flared. “She’s too good for Hedges. She
plans to set him aside.”

“To become a mistress?” Fiona shook with laughter. “She
might toy with you, Julian. Most of the women in England would share a night
with you without regret. But a few nights is all you’ll get from her. She needs
to marry, or don’t you read the papers?” Impoverished widows were a common
theme in the London chronicles.

Noel chuckled. “I heard you had a heated exchange with the
lovely Lady Sibley at the last meeting. ‘Gracious but persistent’, that’s how
Waldemere described her.”

“That describes her well.”

“Why don’t you just marry the girl and sire me an heir? You
must marry soon, or you’ll be the oldest father at Eton’s graduation ceremony.
You don’t want to embarrass my grandson that way, do you?”

“I’ve no desire to marry, Father. I prefer my freedom.”

Fiona tsked again. “Freedom is overrated. Let me see if I
can hurry lunch. I’ll only be a minute.” She strode towards the door to the
kitchen with long steps that served her well as an athlete but were decidedly
unladylike.

Noel watched her leave and spoke softly. “There’s a greater
freedom to be found with the right woman, son. She’ll free you to become your
best self, she’ll bear witness to your accomplishments and comfort you when
you’re in need.”

“Do you wish you’d married Fiona?” He surprised himself in
asking the age-old question and was relieved when his father chuckled.

“Now that would have been a scandal. I suspect Fiona suits
me because I have your mother to provide a contrast.” Elenora Ahlquist was a
dour woman, cold and sexless in Julian’s mind, and far away from London. “I
know that none of your mother’s choices of brides have held any appeal, but she
is determined to have you wed before your birthday in July. You’d best act on
your own behalf, or she will find a way to secure an heir.”

Julian had heard this before, but the threat held little
weight with him. “I’ll marry when I find the right woman and not before. Thinking
of marriage is nigh on impossible when a fine mistress is always available.” He
had to admit that Lilith’s painted beauty paled next to Cathryn’s natural
radiance.
I imagine she looks lovely in the morning, tousled and wanton.

Noel finished his drink and Julian followed suit, struggling
to dislodge the image of Cathryn in his bed when he woke with his usual morning
erection. “Son, there are few women who possess the intellect, wit and physical
assets to captivate a man’s full attention and attend to her duties as a mother
and countess. You’ve always said that when you found one, you’d pursue her.”

He had found such a woman, Julian realized with a start,
setting down his glass hard. After years of dreary soirees making idle chatter
with vacant minds, and countless dances with partners who proved lacking within
the first beats, he had found a worthy woman. Cathryn Sibley would be a
superior countess, and his attraction for her was strong.

Perhaps marriage was not such an outlandish concept. He’d
attended five weddings at the end of this season alone, and nearly all of his
friends had succumbed, most with admirable results. Cathryn would blend with
his circle easily, and he with hers.

Waiting until tomorrow to see her again was out of the
question. He would deliver flowers himself, just before dinner.

Julian knocked a third time, but it was clear from the dim
glow in the parlor window above that no one was at home. It must be the
servants’ night off, and the ladies had an evening outing of some sort. His blood
simmered at the thought that other gentlemen had caught scent of the two lovely
widows. Waldemere was blathering all over town about the gracious Lady Sibley.

Filled with nervous energy, Julian nearly left the bouquet
of giant white chrysanthemums on her front steps, but he didn’t want to risk
the theft. He turned to his coach and remembered he employed only one driver
and no footmen tonight. With no desire to take the reins of his own carriage,
he ducked around the side of the townhouse through a narrow alleyway to the
back of the house, to a broader alley that was pitch-black. He heard voices in
the darkness and decided against leaving his offerings at the kitchen door.
With a huff, he returned to his carriage and directed his coachman to take him
to his club.

An afternoon spent poring over Cathryn’s magnificent
translations had deepened his conviction that she was a worthy countess. He
needed to see her, and now he was doubly concerned. The poorhouse couldn’t be a
safe place for ladies, and he prayed she had not accepted an invitation with
any other man.

No, he should not doubt her response to him just hours
before. He needed to trust her, as she trusted him. He would return in a few
hours.

Cathryn stood wedged between Violet and the minister’s wife
in a narrow pew as they finished singing “Be Thou My Vision”. The women’s
chorus met late to accommodate shop clerks and other working girls. On
Thursdays, the church provided tea and the ladies brought sandwiches and
desserts to share after choir practice, which normally made for a very pleasant
evening.

But this week Cathryn was ready to leave early, and she had
told Violet as much. Surely, Julian would send flowers or another poem. It was
the servants’ night off and she had nearly stayed at home alone to wait for a
delivery, but she’d chided herself for giving up her independence for the mere
possibility of some sign of his affection. She fixed half a cup of tea, with
her mind set on Julian and their outing the next day.

Another member of the choir sidled up beside her and asked, “Did
you hear about Mildred Stonesworth?”

“No, Miss Connors, I haven’t, although I noticed her
absence. Is she ill?”

“She lost her house and had to move to Liverpool to live
with her daughter. Her son-in-law is said to be a wretched man.” The ruddy miss
finished a dainty sandwich and muttered, “It’s dreadful to be at the mercy of
relatives.”

Lady Stonesworth was a woman of quality, a pillar of the
charitable community, a widow of good repute.

Cathryn hated gossip, but her curiosity got the best of her.
“What happened to her?”

“Her steward bilked her. He and the housekeeper ran off to
America with her earnings and most of her savings. She lasted only two months
before her creditors began to hound her.” Miss Connors reached for another
sandwich. “She’s up to her eyeballs in debts.”

“Dear heavens, poor Lady Stonesworth. I shall remember her
in my prayers.” Cathryn trembled as she finished her tea. Her own situation was
no more secure. She hadn’t received any correspondence from the Sibley steward
in over a month, and she wasn’t certain Percival had assumed control of any
estate affairs. It would be easy for greed to flourish amongst such neglect.
Most of her income came from her dower’s portion and a jointure Geoffrey had
arranged, both of which were dependent on estate earnings. Violet had a similar
situation, and together they were comfortable, if they stayed within a strict
budget.