Chapter Fifteen
Katie was disappointed when she went down to breakfast the following morning and discovered that Dulverton had eaten hours earlier and left on estate business.
“And the dowager? Has she already come down?” she asked the footman, a man she did not recognize.
“Her Grace takes a tray in her room, Your Grace.”
Katie was amused by the sheer number of your graces around. What a recipe for confusion.
She was relieved that she would not need to face Betje first thing in the morning. She liked the sweet, garrulous woman, but a little of her chatter went a long way—especially before Katie had ingested the requisite amount of coffee.
She took a little from each of the various chafing dishes and sat at the table, telling herself that she was glad Dulverton was not there.
After all, it wasn’t as if they would have anything to say to one another.
And if he did say anything it would be to find fault with something she was doing.
Or where she was sitting or what she was wearing or—
Katie gritted her teeth against the flood of resentment and pushed her eggs around on her plate.
She was not really hungry but was in no hurry to leave the room and get on with her day.
After all, what on earth was she supposed to do at Briarly?
The house ran like clockwork and Katie would likely muck everything up if she interfered.
She could ask Dulverton about her duties—aside from the obvious one, of course—but her husband had evidently fled at dawn. Doubtless Betje would have some suggestions, but did she really want to listen to a woman who got on Dulverton’s nerves so badly?
Katie chewed and stared moodily out the window at the beautiful garden, mulling over the matter and dawdling over her breakfast for a quarter of an hour before she could stand the tedium no longer.
The footman she’d spoken to earlier hastened toward the door when she stood.
“What is your name?” Katie asked.
“Thomas, Your Grace.”
“Where is the library, Thomas?”
“The first set of carved double doors to the right of the stairs, Your Grace.”
Katie passed at least four housemaids on her way to the library. Each one dropped a low curtsey and then quickly scuttled away. Given how early Dulverton had left the house they were probably not accustomed to seeing their employers wandering about at this time of day.
Her mother would have thrown a tantrum if her eyes had been blighted by the sight of a servant working. The Countess of Addiscombe was not alone in that opinion; many aristocrats felt servants should neither be seen nor heard unless one summoned them.
She hoped Dulverton did not live by the countess’s code.
She could accept his need for order and symmetry—although it was annoying—but she refused to behave as if servants were dumb animals or pieces of furniture.
And she would give Dulverton her opinion in no uncertain terms if he thought to impose such behavior on her.
Katie was so caught up in mentally drafting the dressing down she would deliver to her husband that she almost passed the library. She reached for the handle but then paused and rapped her knuckles on the slick surface, just in case.
When no sound came from within, she opened the door and sucked in a breath. The library in London had been grand, but this was truly magnificent and rose up two stories with a mezzanine level that wrapped all the way around the capacious room.
Just like the rest of the house, there were two of everything, except… Katie squinted across to where four identical tables sat, two chairs at each. Even from this distance she could see there were chess sets on them. Or chess games, rather, as the pieces were not set up in the starting position.
The usual mix of nostalgia and revulsion flooded her at the sight of the familiar pieces. Normally, she would bolt in the opposite direction to avoid being dragooned into a game. But she was alone, so she allowed her curiosity to draw her closer, interested despite herself.
Katie’s family had been as poor as church mice when she’d been a girl and they’d had to make their own entertainment, which had meant lots of chess, draughts, charades, dictionary, and a dozen other games—everything but cards, which her mother did not allow in her house.
In a family filled with talented, clever sisters, Katie had excelled at only two things: needlework and chess.
When one of her sisters wanted pretty embroidery on a gown or help sewing a new dress, they had come to Katie.
As for chess, Katie had often pitted herself against all four sisters—and Doddy, too, when he was old enough to play—at once. And she always won.
Until she met Jasper.
As Katie stared at the chessboards, memories of that summer with Jasper flooded her.
Her aunt had been so delighted that Katie received so many invitations to the Marquess of Lindhurst’s—Jasper’s father—house.
Not just for the small, informal dances the marchioness gave every two weeks for her unmarried twin daughters—Jasper’s youngest siblings—but also several times a week to take tea with the girls, who were the same age as Katie.
What Aunt Agnes hadn’t known was that Katie spent part of every visit alone in Lord Jasper’s company.
She’d been terribly flattered that he’d singled her out on those magical afternoons, walking with her in the gardens, always choosing her for charades, and then one fateful afternoon when rain had kept them all inside playing three games of chess with her in the magnificent library.
During the first game he had surreptitiously caressed her hand while smiling warmly into her eyes.
After she’d won, he’d laughingly chided her for distracting him and demanded a chance to redeem himself.
There’d been no caresses during the second game.
And by the time Katie had won the third game, his eyes, usually a bright sky blue, had taken on an arctic edge.
Jasper had not thrown a tantrum as Doddy had done on occasion when he lost. No, his reaction had been far more subtle and punitive.
That very night Jasper had chosen to lead every other girl except Katie onto the dance floor. The other men in the neighborhood—all of whom idolized the older and more sophisticated Lord Jasper—had followed his lead, leaving Katie a wallflower.
Katie had been frantic by the time supper came, finding it harder and harder to breathe.
Her keen-eyed aunt had been furious. “Why is Lord Jasper giving you the cut direct? You see how the others are all following his lead. What have you done, Kathryn?” She’d sounded so much like her sister, the Countess of Addiscombe, that Katie had frozen just as she always did whenever her mother rebuked her.
“I’ve d-done nothing, Aunt Agnes!”
But that had been a lie. She knew exactly what she’d done.
Not even the wallflowers had wanted to sit beside her after supper, and Katie was almost lost to despair by the time Jasper asked her to dance the very last set.
He’d smiled coolly down at her, a worrying glitter in his eyes. Only by biting her tongue so hard it bled had Katie been able to keep from shaming herself and begging his forgiveness for thrashing him at chess. As green as she’d been she’d still known not to expose his weakness in such a way.
Instead, she had simpered and flattered and prayed it would be enough to appease him.
For ten days there were no invitations from the marchioness.
By the time Jasper called at her aunt’s house on the eleventh day and asked her to go for a drive in his curricle, Katie had been so desperate to please him that she’d almost wept with gratitude when he’d driven them to a small hunting cabin on his father’s estate and relieved Katie of her virginity.
Katie shoved away the nauseating memory and turned to study the four games. Two were likely to end in a draw and white should win the other two.
She felt something cool and smooth in her hand and was stunned to see her fingers curled around a black bishop. She dropped the piece as if it was a live coal. Thankfully it landed harmlessly on carpet rather than shattering on the hard wood floor.
Once she’d put the piece back, she stepped away from the tables.
Katie could just imagine how Gerrit—who’d looked thunderous when she’d merely looked at his shadowboxes in London—would react if she actually touched any of his possessions.
Of course, the boards might be the dowager’s.
Katie smiled at the thought of the flighty woman playing chess.
No, these would be her husband’s games, and something told her that Jasper’s long-ago punishment would pale in comparison to Dulverton’s if she moved so much as one piece. She shivered at the thought and put her hands behind her back, not trusting them.
An irrational but irresistible urge to get away from the boards seized her. By the time she reached the double doors she was almost running. She flung open the door and almost collided with the dowager.
“Goodness!” the older woman squeaked, taking a hasty step back. “What is wrong, my dear? You look like the devil was on your heels.”
Even if she could have spoken, Katie had no rational explanation for the terror that had just gripped her.
The dowager took Katie’s arm. “Come and sit down for a mo—”
“No,” Katie said in a far-too loud voice, pulling away as Betje led her back into the library, or at least tried to. “I—I’m fine.” She forced a smile. “Truly, I am fine.”
The dowager’s somber expression looked incongruous with her frivolous pink crepe gown.
“I am sorry I did not come join you at breakfast, my dear.” She pursed her lips.
“I told Dove to wake me early this morning but—” She broke off and fluttered her hands.
“Well, you know how it can be with servants one has had all one’s life.
They wish to coddle and protect one, even from one’s own commands. ”
“Yes, I do know how they can be.”
The dowager suddenly smiled. “Today is a special day.” Her smile spread until it was an infectious grin.
“Er, it is?”