Chapter Eighteen
She was gone. Grayson tore through the town house like a madman, thinking the worst—that she had been abducted or was out proving Raleigh right with some scoundrel.
But when he was going to tear through Town, as well, Badcock told him the truth. Apparently, the rest of his staff quaked in terror at the thought of admitting that his wife had left him, returning to her childhood home in one of his own coaches.
It had come back—without her, of course.
Grayson had nearly dismissed the driver on the spot, but he knew that the poor man hardly could have gainsaid the marchioness.
And a determined Kate would have found a way, if not in his private vehicle, then on the mail or the common stage.
Grayson shuddered to think of such dangers.
But what of her now? How safe was she at a house that had been closed, without even that old fool Tom to keep watch over her? The young woman he had thought so sensible had proved herself to be a reckless fool. He ought to ride over there and bring her back, over his shoulder if necessary.
But he was too angry at her defection. What more did she want from him?
He had married her, had given his name, his title, his wealth, and his attention, while she…
She had destroyed a self-control he had honed to razor-sharpness over the years and had turned him into a bloody slave to his own body.
Wasn’t that enough? What else could he possibly give her, some sappy declaration of love? His very soul?
Grayson’s hand tightened painfully on the glass of brandy Badcock had brought him, but he did not loosen his grip.
Instead, he tossed the thing into the fireplace, watching with satisfaction as it shattered to pieces upon the grate.
So much for Wycliffe’s fantastical notions of romantic love!
His wife had left him, and he would be damned if he was going to chase after her like some whipped dog.
And he had things to do. Ostensibly, he had come to Town in order to conduct unfinished business.
Instead, he had danced attendance upon his wife.
But no more. He needed updates on several enterprises, including the mysterious whereabouts of Jasper Gilroy.
Grayson’s lips curved grimly, for he was eager to take out his ill humor on someone as deserving as Kate’s uncle.
His smile faded. As for Kate… he didn’t need her. He didn’t need anyone. And now he would prove it to her—and himself. But Grayson felt no triumph at the thought, only a dark emptiness that yawned before him like the pit itself, waiting to drag him down.
Kate walked slowly through Hargate’s silent rooms, reaching out to touch a familiar object or view an ancestral portrait, but even her former house could not lift her spirits.
The joyous sense of homecoming she had expected to feel had never materialized, not when she sighted the building or when she sent the coachman back to London and stood alone in the foyer.
And not now, when her footsteps echoed loudly as she made her way to the kitchen.
Hargate had never seemed so big and empty before, Kate thought, even when there had been only Lucy and Tom to join her. Perhaps that was the difference. As long as you were surrounded by people you cared about, the size of your residence or your purse did not matter.
Blinking rapidly, Kate shied away from such thoughts, for they led in a dangerous direction: back to Grayson. And she was better off alone than clinging to that illusion.
A sound outside made her crack open the kitchen door, and she had to step back as an orange blur swept past her ankles. Cyclops! Kate reached down to pick up the feline and hold him close.
“Have you been catching mice and staying fat, my friend?” she asked. She sank down, hugging the cat until somehow her face was buried in its fur and the tears she had fought for so long escaped in great, endless gulps.
Twilight was settling around the house when Kate finished washing the dishes, one plate for her and one plate for Cyclops.
Having been fed, the cat moved to its favorite spot by the hearth, and Kate gazed at it wistfully.
Her old room would seem cold and lonely tonight, her bed huge and empty.
Loosing a sigh, she turned her attention elsewhere.
Tomorrow she would send word to Lucy that she was home, and then the place wouldn’t seem so desolate, at least until Lucy married. As if her thoughts had conjured up her sister, Kate heard the sound of horses outside and hurried to the window.
A small carriage was drawing up to the stables, but it could not be Lucy, for she recognized that crest all too well as the Wroth coat of arms. Had Grayson come after her?
Kate’s heart thudded wildly as she tried to come to grips with the prospect of facing her husband. Excitement, anger, despair, and love all fought for supremacy as she flew to the door. In truth, she did not know what to feel, for she had never expected him to follow her.
And he hadn’t.
Kate swallowed a hard lump of disappointment at the sight of Tom leaving the stables alone.
Of course, Grayson would not charge to Hargate to retrieve her.
No doubt, he was relieved to have her out of his life.
And that, she told herself firmly, was just what they both wanted.
Pushing all thoughts of her husband aside, she forced a smile of greeting to her lips.
“Tom! What are you doing here?”
“You don’t think I’d let you stay here all by yourself, do you?” he asked. His gruff question touched her, and Kate blinked. Although she took greedy delight in his small show of affection, she did not want to be a burden to anyone.
“Oh, Tom, you don’t have to stay here,” she said.
“I do, and if you think I don’t, you’re a fool, Katie. You’re a marchioness now. You can’t live like a tenant farmer!”
Kate’s smile of welcome faded. “I can live wherever and however I wish.”
“Not now that you’re married!”
“Well, perhaps I’ll obtain a divorce,” she declared.
The coachman swore low and long. “Are you daft? You love the man, Katie. Anyone can see that, and he loves you, too.”
Before she could deny it, Tom went on, his voice rising “You should have seen him, Katie. Why, even I felt sorry for the fellow when he came home to find you gone. He acted like a crazy man until Badcock finally got up the nerve to tell him the truth.”
“The marriage was a mistake,” Kate said stiffly.
Tom stared at her for a long moment and then shook his head. “You’re as pigheaded as he is. A perfect match, I’d say.” With a snort of disgust, he stalked past her into the house.
It took two days for Lucy to come to Hargate, two long days in which Kate tramped around the grounds dressed in old trousers, while she and Tom remained at loggerheads. The peace she had hoped to find at her old home eluded her, for the makeshift family she had known was splintered apart.
Kate frantically sought to repair it. She was just about to send another note to the squire’s manor house when Lucy finally arrived in the Wortley carriage, escorted by Mr. Rutledge.
Dressed in a bright, showy gown, and preening under her betrothed’s attentions, Lucy sailed into her old home like a regal visitor.
Her greeting was less than enthusiastic. Suffering Kate’s brief hug, she glanced about the silent foyer with a frown, as if to decry the absence of servants to attend her arrival. “Archibold, will you please wait for me in the garden? I wish to speak with my sister privately in the drawing room.”
Impatient with such formalities, Kate frowned, but followed her sister along the gallery. Lucy fanned herself rapidly as she stepped into the drawing room. “My, it is warm. I don’t suppose you have anything cool to drink, some lemonade perhaps?”
Kate laughed humorlessly. Although the pantry was not as bare as it once had been, there were no lemons to be had at Hargate.
It appeared that Lucy had become accustomed to better fare at the squire’s laden table.
And, from her languid movements, Kate deduced that she was no longer used to doing for herself, either.
“Some water then, please. My condition demands cool liquids and rest, Katie,” she said, piling the cushions behind her as she sank onto a sofa.
Unprepared to wait upon her sister, but seeing no other choice, Kate nodded curtly. She could hardly ask Tom, who spent most of his time in the stables, so she trudged off to the kitchen herself, suppressing a growing nostalgia for Grayson’s multitude of servants.
When she returned, glass in hand, Lucy looked at it and pouted. “Have you no ice?”
Kate bit back a sharp retort and smiled instead. “I did not wish to go out to the icehouse.”
“At the squire’s, there always seems to be plenty at hand. I vow, it’s the only thing that keeps me from becoming queasy. They have quite spoiled me there, you know. I shall be sorry to leave the bosom of my dear husband-to-be’s family after we are wed.”
Kate refrained from pointing out that Lucy’s uncle-to-be had once practically stolen the Chister heirlooms from them with his greedy bargaining, for she was determined not to quarrel with her sister.
“I regret that you will miss some things available at the squire’s, but I will be so glad to have you here with me, Lucy,” Kate said.
Lucy’s brows furrowed in dismay. “Here? With you? Whatever do you mean?”
Kate’s mouth tightened. What else could she mean? “Now that I am back, there is no need for you to stay with the Wortleys.”
“You cannot mean to remain here like… this?” Lucy asked, in horrified accents. “Without any staff?”
“It is no different than before,” Kate said, refusing to allude to her new position or her absent husband.