Chapter Thirty-Four
The evening after Lady Grimsby’s party had been one of the longest of her life as Katie waited for Gerrit to confront her about the carriage ride with Jasper.
But the servants must have held their tongues because her husband never mentioned it.
Indeed, he had been more affectionate than usual last night.
He’d stayed in her bed after their passionate coupling, but—for once—Katie had not slept.
Instead, her mind had raced, her thoughts churning endlessly about Jasper and what to do.
Thanks to her sleepless night Katie was heavy-eyed this morning and grateful that Dulverton—who was busy with his bailiff—had postponed going to the dig until two o’clock.
Katie had ordered a pot of tea rather than her usual chocolate because she’d needed something to wake her up. Something to help her think.
She finished her last cup of tea an hour ago and now she was staring at the product of her morning’s labor: two sheets filled with her cramped handwriting. Did she dare give this to Jasper when she met him? Or should she bring the jewels?
“Your Grace, it is here!”
Katie jolted and swung around, ready to chide Becky about sneaking up behind her. But her maid held out a letter with familiar handwriting.
“Already?” she stupidly said, taking the message she’d hoped would not come for at least another day. She sighed and unfolded the letter, her eyes flickering over the few sentences.
“Well, what does it say?” Becky asked, radiating impatience.
It amused and comforted her when Becky forgot Katie was now a duchess and hectored her just as she had when they’d been girls.
“He wants to meet at that cottage… tonight.”
“Tonight? That is impossible!” When Katie did not immediately agree, Becky groaned. “Please tell me you are not considering it.”
“I am considering it.”
Becky cast her eyes ceilingward. “Why, why, why, why?”
“Do you think I am enjoying this, Becky? I have to end this, and it is not as if he is giving me any choice.”
“But tonight? How on earth could you get away?”
“I don’t know.”
“What time?”
“Midnight.”
“Midnight!”
Katie winced and cut Becky a quelling look.
Becky crossed her arms and shook her head, unquelled. “It will be full dark and too dangerous,”
“There is a half-moon.” Katie tore the message into tiny pieces before throwing it away. “It is as good a time as any and the path is well-trodden. There will be plenty of light.” At Becky’s skeptical glare she added, “I promise to be careful; will that satisfy you?”
“None of this satisfies me. Whatever will you tell His Grace? He is either in your chambers every night or you are in his.” She bit her lip, her face flaming.
Her friend’s mortification amused her and lightened her grim mood.
Becky was scandalized by how often the duke came to his wife’s bed, not to mention being outraged that he did not just do his duty but stayed in Katie’s bed for part of the night.
She had pondered telling the other woman that one’s wifely duty could be pleasurable, but decided to leave that conversation until Becky became betrothed.
Judging by how much she idolized Mr. Court, hung on his every word, and spent all her free time with the taciturn valet, that would not be long.
“I don’t know what you’re smirking about,” Becky snapped.
“You will,” Katie said.
Becky narrowed her eyes.
“As for His Grace, I will just tell him I do not feel well. Or I will tell him—” Katie frowned and pulled open the overstuffed drawer on her secretaire desk, pawing the contents until she found her appointments diary.
She’d hardly consulted the little book since she had no balls, parties, or other social engagements that required scheduling.
She skimmed over the prior months, tracking the dates that marked the beginning and end of her flux.
And then she read them again. And again.
She closed the slim book and looked at Becky.
Becky nodded, even though Katie hadn’t said a word. “Yes, you completely forgot about it, didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought it was better if I did not mention it. I didn’t want you to think too much about it until some time had passed.”
“Do you think I am—” Katie could not make herself say the words.
“I think it highly likely,” Becky said with the certitude of a woman who had seven younger siblings. Becky might be shy about the subject of coupling, but when it came to childbirth, she spoke with the dry practicality of a matron in her eighth decade.
Katie placed her hands over her midriff, which felt the same as always, which was to say soft and relatively flat. “You will tell Court that my time of the month is here.”
“What? But then how will you tell His Grace you were wrong afterward?”
“I will confess when I tell him everything else and admit that I lied so I could finish this business with Jasper.”
Becky pursed her lips and shook her head in disgust.
“Oh, don’t look at me that way. He will be so happy about the prospect of a child that he will forgive me the lie.”
“Something tells me he will be even angrier that you are risking your child meeting with such a villain.”
“Jasper is hardly going to attack me.” Katie dropped the diary into the overstuffed drawer and shoved it hard to close it.
“I think His Grace will beat you when he discovers you’ve gone to meet a man alone. At midnight. And he should beat you.” Becky glared at her.
“Probably,” Katie agreed. Not that all the slapping and pinching and verbal abusing her mother had subjected her to had ever made her obey. She had just been sneakier about disobeying.
“I am your maid and should attend you. It isn’t proper for you to go alone.”
Katie seriously considered the other woman’s offer. She did not want to go alone, and having her maid along might help soothe Dulverton once this was all over. But then she groaned. “You do not ride, Becky. I can hardly put you up before me on Robin.”
“There must be some way—”
“How? Do you propose to run behind me in the darkness?”
“We could walk.”
“That would take three-quarters of an hour each way. No,” she said before Becky could argue. “I shall go alone. I will be fine.”
“But what about your horse?”
“I am no fragile flower, Becky. I can saddle my own mount.”
Becky looked unconvinced. “You have been lucky before, but if you press your—”
“This is the last time, Becks. And then he will be gone.”
“Aye, but not forever. There is nothing to say he can’t come back and ask for more.”
“That is certainly true, but—”
“And where are you going to get that much money?” she interrupted.
“I’m not giving him any money.”
“Katie!”
“Shhhh,” Katie hissed, glancing toward the connecting door. “I can hear Court moving about in there—perhaps even Dulverton—do you want to get me caught?”
Becky ignored her question, but she did lower her voice, “Why on earth are you meeting him if not to pay him?”
“Because I am going to tell him I will send my own letter to the newspapers.” Katie was ashamed it had taken her so long to come up with a response to his threats. How could she be so good at chess and yet have neglected to see the best move against him?
Becky’s perplexed expression was comical. “What?”
“It’s a gambit. A bluff,” she explained when her friend continued to look confused.
She gestured to the missive she’d worked on all morning.
It had been painful, but she’d laid out the general circumstances of their liaison—including his false promise to marry her—and then gone on to describe their physical relations in excruciating detail, depicting Jasper as a selfish and inept lover.
Katie hadn’t even needed to exaggerate much.
Jasper was an appallingly selfish lover compared to Dulverton.
Katie was relying on Jasper’s towering conceit and pride to work in her favor.
What man would enjoy having his lack of amorous skills broadcast to the world?
Becky snatched the letter Katie had written off the desk.
Her cheeks turned brighter and brighter as she read.
“I do not even know what half of this means,” she admitted with obvious mortification.
“But the half I do understand?” She shook her head.
“You are just as mad as he is, Katie—madder, for you actually have something to lose.”
“What are my other options? Tell me, what do you think Dulverton would do if I told him right now that Jasper was threatening to expose me if I did not pay him?”
Becky opened her mouth, but then closed it, furrows marring her forehead. Katie knew the other woman was recalling Dulverton’s rage toward Ampthill for merely talking to her. She finally sighed. “His Grace would probably kill him.”
“Precisely. And if I pay Jasper now, he will just come back again in a few years—or maybe even less time—when he is pockets-to-let. I have no other choice, Becky. He needs to leave here knowing that I cannot be bullied or threatened into doing his bidding. I need to show him I am willing to tell my side of the story if he tells his. It is fighting fire with fire.”
Becky’s expression was grimmer than Katie had ever seen. “I hope it will be enough, Katie. I surely do.”
So did Katie.
***
Getting through dinner and two chess games afterward was difficult. Not because of anything Dulverton did, but because of Katy’s own guilt.
And then there was the fact that he was so uncharacteristically sweet when he stopped outside her door. “I will miss you tonight,” he said, and then kissed her palm, opened the door, and left her with a pounding pulse and equally pounding conscience at lying about her flux.
“Are you sure about this?” Becky asked half an hour later, her cornflower-blue eyes flickering over the buckskin breeches and clawhammer coat that Hy had given Katie several years back so they could ride astride around the grounds of Chatham Park.