Chapter Eighteen #2
“It most certainly is!” Lucy said, throwing up her hands.
“I do not understand you, Katie. The squire says that Wroth is one of the richest men in the whole country. You can have anything you want, after years of skimping and scraping by, and you have given it all up to come back here to nothing? I’ve never understood you, but this… this is beyond folly.”
Unwilling to talk about Grayson, Kate turned the conversation back to Lucy. “You belong at Hargate,” she said, fixing her sister with a look that brooked no argument. For a long moment, their gazes locked, and then Lucy rose to her feet.
“All right, you win, as usual! I’ll stay here, but I won’t lift a finger to help out, and as soon as Archibold and I are married, I’m leaving.” With a whirl of shiny new skirts, she turned to go after her betrothed, but paused on the threshold to toss one last barb at her sister.
“Enjoy your suffering, Katie.”
Grayson was suffering. Leaning his head back, he released a long, guttural sigh.
He never thought it would be this difficult to survive without her, but like an opium addict deprived of his pipe, he struggled through each day.
Each hour. He had hoped to regain his sanity and his control, but now he wondered if he could ever go back to the man he had been before Kate entered his life.
She had changed him irrevocably.
And not for the better, he thought grimly.
Yet, even as he scorned his weakness, he was beginning to wonder if it was such a big price to pay for Kate, for her company, her warmth, her passion.
He missed her strength, her intelligence, the dark satin of her hair, her amazing amethyst eyes, her mouth, her taste, the look on her face when she cried out his name…
Grayson swore under his breath. He was mooning over her like some lovesick boy. He slammed his fist down on the surface of the desk, as if the act of violence could marshal his wits. He needed them today.
He had kept Kate’s defection quiet, for he wanted no further speculation about his abrupt, tumultuous marriage, but something must have gotten out, because he had received a cryptic note from a certain Mrs. Parker requesting a private audience with him concerning Kate.
And he refused to let a missing wife make him vulnerable to anything or anyone. Drawing himself up to his usual, imposing height, Grayson banished all traces of weariness and longing as the door to his study opened to reveal his butler.
“Mrs. Parker is here to see you, my lord,” the man said, frowning slightly in disapproval. The servants had become devoted to Kate during her brief residence, and Grayson had been receiving black looks from nearly every member of his household since her departure.
He began to wonder if peace, or some slight semblance of it, ever would reign in his life again. Giving the impertinent man a hard look, Grayson nodded, bowing slightly to the woman who stepped into the room.
“I appreciate you seeing me under such unorthodox circumstances,” Mrs. Parker said, taking a seat and fanning herself gently as the butler withdrew. “I’m sure you think it unusual of me to come here like this, but I had an errand of most pressing concern.”
Grayson thought it highly unusual for a woman, even a widow, to visit him, but nothing connected with Kate surprised him any longer. “You have something to share concerning my wife?”
“In a way, yes,” she said, smiling slyly above her fan.
“What sort of way?” Grayson asked. Unmoved by her arch glance, he lifted a brow in question.
“Well, if you wish to be blunt, I can be,” Mrs. Parker said, dropping her efforts at flirtation. “The truth of the matter is that I am privy to certain information about the marchioness that you will not wish to be made public.”
Anger, swift and sure, made him fist his hand at his side, but he hid it, leaning casually on the edge of the desk. He was accustomed to dealing with attacks on himself, but Kate was another matter entirely. “Such as?” he asked evenly.
“My, you are a cool one!” Mrs. Parker replied, her eyes sharp under partially lowered lashes. She leaned forward, unable to conceal her avarice. “I know plenty, but I’m not fool enough to share it without the promise that I will be adequately compensated for my trouble.”
Grayson laughed, startling her, and she drew back, as well she should.
He fixed her with a fierce glare. “You won’t get a farthing from me, and if you think to wag your tongue, let me give you fair warning.
You will only ruin yourself.” Reaching behind him, Grayson opened a drawer and dropped a handful of papers on the desk.
“My vowels!” Mrs. Parker shrieked as soon as she recognized the evidence of her debts. “How did you get them?”
“Do you think you are the first person to try to deal ignobly with me, madam?” Grayson asked, his lips curling in contempt.
“If so, I would advise you to think again. I have bested the worst, and your feeble attempts at petty thievery hardly merit my attention. Be glad I don’t have you thrown in gaol. ”
He stood, slanting a glance over her arrogantly. “And here is another warning, madam. Do not trifle with me or mine again. Nor do I want to find out that you have bothered my wife with your noxious tricks.”
The flicker of fear in her eyes sent unease stealing along Grayson’s spine, and he knew the truth before he even spoke. “You have already spoken to her.”
The accusation struck home, for Mrs. Parker quaked in her seat, no longer the bold blackmailer.
She must have glimpsed his rage, for she cringed, as if fearful he might strike her.
He was tempted, fueled by a primitive urge to wreak vengeance upon any who would harm Kate.
He was restrained only by his formidable will and the dawning realization that this wretched creature might be responsible for Kate’s flight.
Grayson stilled. Was this why she had left him, to shield him from gossip? Struggling against the powerful emotions that surged through him, Grayson walked to the door and threw it open. He would try to decipher his wife’s strange motivations later. Now he would rid himself of her tormentor.
“Get out,” he snapped at the wide-eyed woman. “And if you breathe one word about my wife, I’ll see you reduced to a Spitalfields beggar, whoring for your dinner.”
Kate silently washed her breakfast plate.
The pleasure she had taken in cooking for Tom and Lucy had faded, like her every other attempt to recapture the past. Seething with resentment, Lucy spent as little time at Hargate as possible, while Tom no longer appreciated her efforts, giving her black looks and championing Grayson over the breakfast table.
“You’ve a new life now, Katie. It’s time you left the old one behind. Your father is dead, and there will be no new earl unless you produce one,” he had said this morning.
Kate had flushed and glared at his bold speech. Afraid to consider the possibility of a child, she had shooed him from her kitchen, preferring to do the dishes herself rather than listen to his harping. He had no idea what stood between herself and Grayson.
No one did. And no one knew how she cried herself to sleep every night, yearning for him to come after her. But he did not, and he never would. He did not care enough about her to make the effort, while she cared too much.
Pride made Kate swallow and blink away her misery. Relegating her tears to the quiet darkness, she concentrated on the tasks that would keep her busy this afternoon. She had just decided to do some gardening when she heard the sound of a coach outside.
Rushing to the window, she looked out to see the squire’s carriage. Not Grayson. Never Grayson. It was Lucy, but today was Sunday. Surely, her pampered sister would spend the afternoon with the Wortleys and their requisite number of servants. And wasn’t it early yet for church to let out?
Wiping her hands, Kate hurried toward the foyer. No doubt Lucy was too good these days to come in by the servant’s entrance, she thought wryly.
Sure enough, Kate reached the front doors just as Lucy burst in, Rutledge and another man following close behind. Dressed as she was in trousers, Kate was unprepared for company, but she abandoned all hope of fleeing upstairs when Lucy threw herself into her arms.
“Oh, Kate, it is a catastrophe! And it is all Wroth’s fault, lifting my hopes only to dash them so cruelly,” she cried, sobbing against Kate’s shoulder.
“What is it? What happened?” Kate looked to Rutledge, who shook his head helplessly.
“I’ll tell you what’s what, young gent!” The other man swaggered forward, and Kate eyed him with curiosity.
He was short and wiry, and although he wore a gentleman’s clothes, they were ill-fitting and not of the finest quality.
His hair was thin and greasy, his eyes dark and beady, and he fit Kate’s vision of a blackmailer far better than Mrs. Parker.
Lucy lifted her head long enough to wail loudly. “He objected to the banns!”
“What?” Lucy began crying once more, and Kate glared at the interloper. “Just who do you think you are, sir?”
“I’m Brown. Mr. Brown to you, and I’ve been sent by the man what runs this household. He’s her guardian, he is, and she has no right to be married without his consent.”
Uncle Jasper. Kate’s heart sank. What were they to do now? Although her thoughts were in a turmoil, she lifted her chin. “And how do we know you are who you say? Have you a letter of introduction?”
Brown laughed. It was an ugly, deadly sound. “No, I don’t have a letter, and I don’t need one, either. Now, where’s the sister? I’ve got some business with her, too,” he said, with an evil leer.
Kate eyed him coldly. “I am she,” she said, in imitation of Grayson’s most arrogant tone.
The fellow gaped at her, his mouth falling open. Then he shook his head. “Naw. Don’t gammon me. I’m looking for one of the earl’s daughters, not some doxy in boy’s clothes.”
For once, Kate regretted her ragged attire. As she had learned in London, appearance was everything. Nevertheless, she gave him an imperious stare. “Believe what you will. You are no longer welcome here.”
“I told you Kate would make you go away, you wretched man!” Lucy said, lifting her head long enough to scowl at Brown.
His small eyes narrowing, he looked from Lucy to Kate and back again. “Kate, you say?” He smiled as he gave her a bold perusal. “Well, well. So you are her.”
The commotion drew Tom, who chose that moment to march into the room. “Who’s this, Katie?” he asked, hitching up his trousers.
“He claims to have been sent by our guardian,” Kate said, forcing herself to speak evenly.
“I have no business with you, old man,” Brown said, dismissing Tom with a glance. “I’m just here to make sure these two behave themselves until Jasper arrives.” He grinned evilly. “Meaning no weddings for the gels.”
“Too late,” Kate said coolly. “I already have married, and my husband, the Marquess of Wroth, will not take kindly to interference of any sort.” She kept the threat vague, for what sort of husband would allow her to remain here, virtually alone?
Suddenly, her retreat to Hargate seemed unwise and childish.
The little man barked out a laugh. “Well, then, you’ll just have to get an annulment or a divorce, won’t you?”
Although Kate had contemplated such things, when voiced aloud the suggestion made her flinch. It was too final. Too permanent. Too painful. With an insight born of panic, Kate realized that whether Grayson loved her or not, she could not give him up, now or ever.
The discovery gave her strength, and she smiled in amusement. “You cannot touch Wroth. He is one of the most powerful men in the country.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Brown warned, stepping forward.
Kate stayed her ground as Tom moved in front of her. “Get away from Lady Wroth, you brute, or I’ll call the magistrate and have you hauled away. You are not wanted here.”
Brown’s face twisted into an obscene grimace. “No, you’re the one that’s not wanted here. These fine ladies don’t own this house and neither do you, so get out!”
Tom would have lunged at the man, but Kate grabbed hold of his arm, restraining him. Although short, Brown had the look of a mean fighter, and he might be armed. She did not want Tom hurt, and he could do little if Jasper arrived to lay claim to Hargate.
There was only one person who could help them now. Leaning close, she whispered in the coachman’s ear. “Bring Wroth.”
Giving her an odd look, Tom reluctantly turned away, muttering dire warnings should anything happen to the ladies. Brown just laughed, sending Lucy into fresh tears, while Rutledge stood by, looking alarmed.
Kate eyed him over her sister’s head. Although she knew her sister’s lover to be a coward, still she did not think he would let anything happen to her. Unless Jasper arrived. What could the boy do then?
Suppressing a shiver, Kate knew that their only hope lay with Grayson. But would he care enough to come to the aid of a wife who had run away from him?